The Shadow

These days the shadow that thrives on my happiness has gotten darker. It has gotten darker to the extent of being indestructible by the feeble lights I flash on it. The shadow only gets darker each day. The shadow eats into my happiness. Every time life gives me a reason to be happy, the shadow creeps up from behind the walls like a hungry dog that has smelt meat.

It devours the juicy meat, sends the pieces of flesh flying as its teeth rapidly sink into it. All that is left behind is a bone. The reminder of the shadow’s existence. A reminder that the shadow needs to be fed. A reminder that there is nothing that can be hidden from the shadow, it will come to demand. But why? Who gave the shadow that right.

I am going to run away from the shadow. I run through the dark alleyways, onto the swarming streets. The shadow only gets darker. I run run run to find daylight. The daylight which might kill the shadow. The shadow is yet darker. The next moment I turn, the shadow is starting to grow its own eyes and nose. It has a face…. It has acquired a face. The shadow is no more a shadow. It has broken free of the chains to be its own self. And then the shadow looks down at herself and smiles. Her solid hand reaches to me and feels my face, neck, hands as if I were a toy. Her fiery eyes bear into me and I feel my form dissolve. I become the shadow.

...Starfish

While walking down a clean beach early one morning, I came across an almost dead starfish. It was stuck in the sand, stagnated. There was an urge to pick the fish up and take him home, and match it with the starfish in the book- 1001 words. But as I went down on my knees to pick the blue-grey wonder, it moved its tentacles, begging for another chance. The sea must have heard it; the chilly early morning sea wave splashed its transparent self onto the beach and washed the starfish back with it, freeing it from the sand that held it. The sea must have wanted me to have him too; another wave splashed on my foot a tickling feeling. And there it was; the star fish at my feet, resigned to its fate, stuck in the sand, motionless.

I picked it up, and stared at it. I decided to walk with it on my palm through the waking village. They later told me that it was very rare to find a starfish in Malvan. I saw no meaning in it. Until the angel who was taking care of me then whispered to me, ‘It is here to remind you my girl, that no matter how big your problems seem to you, they will always be small as compared to the universe. Look at this little starfish and think of how big his problem was, being stuck in the sand. Look how small it was to you-his problem.’

The softness of its body had changed into hardness within a day as the experience in the world outside the ocean dried it up. But it sat there, to remind me of my negligible existence in the universe!

I want to write
Breaking free from the chains
That bind me down
To me

I want to float away
Far from the reach
Of these constellations
Into a land of my mind

I want to break open,
This cage of my soul,
And explore new horizons
And let the writer be born.

Born free of me,
Free to tell the stories,
Some them my own,
Carefree…

Free of my existence,
And existence of its own…
An existence without a face
An existence defined by the constellations
Of the stories I wove.

In my cave
Deep beneath the ground
I wait for inspiration to strike
Amongst the muffled sounds…
Sounds of thumping feet,
Sounds of muffled speech,
Sounds of dying music
And of the music that has died
Life reaches me
Seeping through the ground,
I don’t want it here
And in my cocoon I crouch
I dive back into my thoughts
Thinking of the music
Thinking of you, me, him, her, us and them
My heart flows to my hand,
And I bring it all alive,
Into the world of my words.

Plain Jane

I don’t have the long pretty hair,

For you to lose yourself in.

And my cheeks aren’t that fair,

That your touch would make them pink.

I don’t have those deep blue eyes,

In which you might want to drown.

I don’t have the long lashes,

To flutter up and down.

I don’t have a sweet, melodious voice,

That might melt your heart away,

I am not even a tender angel,

That in your arms could sway.

All I am is what you see,

And I am no poets dream,

No fairy tale will tell a tale,

Of the plain-Jane that is me.

I have tried hard and now,

I am tired of this game.

To be a muse, to be a woman,

I don’t want to change

Try to love my smile,

And try to love my frowns,

Try to love my crazy hair,

And my cheeks so brown.

Love me for being who I am,

Else it’s not worth the hype,

I’d rather lose your love my man,

Than be a stereotype!

...A moment

His eyes are full of hope

But sometimes that hope just can’t cope

With the realities that he perceives

Perceptions deceive,

Until his heart grieves

For he begins to think he cannot…

The mind races with the heart,

An intense argument starts…

Hopes and fears, start shifting gears…

They are at war…

Deep blues of the iris deepen,

Open shut. Shut and open

Assuming this weird motion,

His mind resists, yet the heart has spoken.

A touch, a smile, a hug

Takes the conversation,

Beyond the realm of emotions

A bond that can’t be broken…

A bond with me, a silly girl…

What would I know of his woes?

He thinks,

She’s a girl and I am a man

She can’t understand.

I don’t, yet I hold him…

And to him all of a sudden,

I am a woman!

First Attempt at Hindi!!!!!!!

Not particularly proud of it.... but its my first attempt at writing Hindi....Feedback pls....

Ankhon me jo chehra tha
Aaj jaane kahan kho gaya
Shayad yahin kahin hoga
Kya tumne use dekha

uske Ankhon me ek chamak thi,
Muskurahat me koi jadu tha,
Aur uski ek nazar,
Meri zindagi ka har gham bhoola deti

Aaj achanak ankhen mundi maine
Who muskan, who nazar,
Jaane kahan thi
Wahan the to sirf tum

Aur main tumse poch rahi thi
Kya tumne us chehre ko kahin dekha hai?

Legal system

'How many times can a man turn his head and pretend he just cannot see?' These Bob Dylan lines came to my mind when I read that Jessica Lal’s murderers had been acquitted. A girl shot twice, at a crowded party for refusing to serve drinks, because the bar was closed. And years later her murderer goes scott-free. Why? Because he happens to have a powerful and rich father. Newspapers and social activists are blaming the hostile witnesses and favourable judges. But it is us Indians in general at fault, it is not just the system, but we who let people take advantage of the system that are at fault. How many times will we see the country’s legal system, being twisted and turned around to deny justice to the weak of the society it is supposed to help. How many times will the rich and powerful get away unscathed for their crimes.

People show apathy to this news, because for them Jessica is dead, and that's all there is to it. But a day will come when someone important to us will be left hungry for justice and we will bleed to see people being apathetic. The important thing is to understand how this case can encourage the rich and the powerful of the society to take law in their hand. Eventually a day might come when it will be a crime to be poor and weak. And any criminal act of the rich and powerful will be pardoned by their position in the society. A democracy that is a servant of money and power…. That’s what we will be reduced to!

Groups Continued

I have said goodbye to all those groups and to life and I have been dead into another group. I cannot tell you what group this is, because it is useless having any knowledge whatsoever of it before you die. You hear a lot of stories of what happens after you die. Some say you go on to another world, some say you can watch over the world, over your loved ones. Like I am trying to watch over you… What the stories don’t tell you is the pain of watching your loved ones go wrong, seeing them fall into a pit and then being helpless to tell them what you feel… That is the first rule of this group, we don’t communicate explicitly with your group. You need to have a higher power to be able to do that.

How can they expect me not to communicate with you, a part of me, a part of my soul, a reflection of my life. You learnt your first words with me. You learnt to look at the outside world through me. Eventually, you helped me see the outside world… And now I am in a different world, one that you can’t see or feel, but it is there. From this world I can see the dangers coming to you, I can tell your true friends from the false ones, I can see the mistakes you make but I cant tell you. I cannot break the code. It is like going back to your teenage years when I wanted to tell you about the mistakes you were about to make, but you didn’t need me. I felt helpless then and I feel helpless now. You sit by your bed every night looking at me, frozen in that little photo twenty years ago, and tears well up. I can almost hear you call me as if I were lost or hiding from you. I wish I could whisper in your ear, ‘I am right here’. I feel the urge to cry, to weep, to stretch out my hand to you in distress like I did on my deathbed, but now, there are no hands to stretch out, and there are no eyes to weep with, no voice to call out with. All that remains is an essence of my being. But I see myself in you right now… I see your daughter hold you and comfort you, just the way you comforted me when your grandmother left us. I am alive, in you…

Groups

A group is a set of people having things in common to do, to say or just have common goals, a group is made up of you, me, she, him and them. Eventually with time these hes, shes and thems become us. You begin to belong to the group and the group starts belonging to you.

We live our whole life in groups, a family is a group, our friends are a group, our school, our education, our profession, our social position, our income, our culture, our religion, our gender, our age, our language, our music. Everything in life is divided into groups. Everywhere we go we look for a group to belong to. Sometimes when you realize that some person belongs to the same group as you, you feel excited, because you have at least one thing in common; the group. Many relationships in life are built on this foundation of a common group.

Sometimes you leave a group, or sometimes time comes for the group to leave you. It is like birth and death. You are born into a group of people, your family and when you die you say goodbye to an extended group, which is the universal group of all the groups you were a part of.

Crushed in Movieland

Shakespeare said that life is a stage and all of us are actors. But I object; I say life is a set in Universal studios and I am the leading lady. Yes it totally sounds moronic doesn’t it? It sounds moronic to me too. But then I have lived many of those eternal love stories of Hollywood. Only, in my case they turned out to be not so eternal. Through my phase of obsessions with movies and guys I guess I forgot to differentiate between both altogether. My first crush was Shah Rukh Khan. Yes the actor. Now almost half the nation was in love with Shah Rukh at that point of time and I am sure, they are still, so I had to do something to stand out amongst those millions. Well I met a friend who was equally in love with Shah Rukh and we decided to be two special ones amongst those millions. We didn’t mind sharing SRK at all. So we started with skimming through 65 Filmfares that I had managed to collect and cut out all the possible pictures of SRK and yes there were fights because most of the times we both wanted the same picture. Finally we had our own scrapbooks ready but my partner ditched me and left for her school. So it was I all by myself to win Mr. Shah Rukh’s heart. I wrote poems for him, I went and saw each one of his films, only to realize that half the nation was already doing that. Any new way I found to win SRK, a million people would already be doing that. Finally I decided to quit and try to win the heart of some less sought after person. In the complete madness of school affairs and giving advice to my girl friends about their boys and giving my guy friends advice about their girls and setting them up, I fell in love with one of the boys in the school. Now boys and girls weren’t really allowed to mix a lot in my school. And the funniest part was, till date I have never spoken to that guy. Heck of a clueless love story I tell you.Chatting with Ajnabis was the in-thing and I started off too. I made a lot of friends online and a couple of them became my phone friends too. But one among them became special, why? I still ask myself. Again thankfully, this movie was incomplete. And I was bored of having crushes for more than an hour. So a guy on a bus stop, a guy at McDonald’s, a guy who comes for a jog to Shivaji Park everyday at 5 pm, went on to be a part of the historical list of my crushes. Now came a time to start another movie because these trailers were too short to to teach me a lesson. So I started a new movie again. This time it was my own version of Best Friend’s Wedding, only there was no wedding and I wasn’t trying to break them up at all. Basically I fell in love with a very very close friend of mine, and here’s the catch he was in love with someone else and this chick wasn’t giving him any ghaas or even phuss for that matter. But I managed to somehow get him to fall for me, or so I thought. Now after the mahashay turned his affections to me, the chick realized that she loves the mahashay. Ab meri prem kahani mein yeh naya twist aa gaya. Bass after cracking a million brain cells over it, this particular movie didn’t have the usual vanilla ending. But the moral of the story is this last movie that I cast myself in, has taught me an important lesson. Now I shall only be a casting director and watch the fun during both the making of the movie and the movie itself. Cause love stories are synonyms to disaster stories…only for me though.

Pang of Depression

Feelings of inadequacy
Sense of insecurity,
Belief in myself shattered,
Dreams lost; uncertainty.

A fuzzy picture,
Of the future,
The past a distant mistake,
Putting their faith at stake,
In the current present.

Storms and fuzzy gray skies,
Leafless trees with green highlights,
Raindrops lashing on the window,
Freezing cold stinging the skin.

Fight the cold,
Walk along,
Open the window,
And face the storm…
No matter what just walk on.

past, past...zoom into the future...

When I was 6….Life was much about the others. I went out with my parent’s friends. My grandma took me to the market and she bought me sweets. My grandfather narrated stories to me. Dad told me right from wrong. Mum taught me how to love. They made the decisions for me, they worried for me, they thought for me, and I was a carefree little child. These people surrounded me and I was doing things they were doing, completely unaware of life beyond them. It was my own little world and I was their world. They were a window and the world outside was an alien universe at which I looked through these windows.

When I was 16…It had all changed, the center of the universe was still me but I was dying to do things my own way. And I had just started believing that the things I was doing were the best option and I could never go wrong. I was meeting ‘my’ friends, I was going to the market and buying myself whatever ‘I’ wanted, I was choosing the stories to hear. The alien universe outside seemed tempting and I wanted to explore it at any cost. Even if it meant jumping out of the windows and running in the meadows till you have left the windows far behind. I wanted to make my own decisions, and yet leave the worrying to the ones who loved me. I wanted to be selfish and expected them to make sacrifices for me. I wanted to take on the rights of being an adult and shun the responsibility… I was only thinking about me.

When I am 26… I will be radically different from what I am today. And I will be disappointed if I am not. I will have seen the world and faced a few difficulties. And have learned from them enough. I will be holding the hands that once showed me the way and taught me how to walk, remembering that I must not hurt them. I will be their window, to look at the new world. A world that has changed as their little girl has turned into a woman. I will try my best to keep sorrow away from those eyes that looked at me with pride all the time and I will make them prouder. When I will be 26, I won’t have to think about these things or plan them. They will come to me naturally, and at the right time. There will be no place for regret arising out of late realizations like this one. When will I be 26?

the valley and the sun

If they ask you who I am,
Just say I m a scent…
That reminds you of the moon
And makes you want to flow
With the springs in the valley…

If someone asks me who you are,
I promise to call you the first ray of the sun,
That feels like a warm fire in the cold of the winter…
If it snows, I'll write your name on it to melt it away…

When you smile, the sun comes out…
And when I am in your arms,
The sun hides behind the clouds…


When we meet tomorrow,
The warmth of the sun will always glow,
And the valley will look brighter,


But never tell them my name,
And I promise never to tell them yours…
And yet, I will never hide,
The wonderful feeling that is, You

Tick Tock

Tick tock tick
Tock tick tock,
Sounds the clock,
As I lay on my bed,
Counting a flock.

the wind is ruffling
the curtains aside,
letting in a dim light
I shut my eyes tight.

Capture those dreams,
And the nightmares...
But come to me please
I am utterly in despair

If not now,
Don’t come to me ever.
Stay away then
Do me a favour

Creaking down the stairs,
A warm cup of milk,
Rearranging the chairs
And cleaning the sink

Watching the sounds,
Hearing the clouds,
And the music
of the wild wild wind

Yet no show,
The sky begins to glow,
The sun is out,
But you are missing.

I give up on the sack,
And hit the books,
Taking the notes,
And sorting the quotes,
Barely a word I wrote,
And you come to me,
My much beloved sleep….

She...

She was walking down to a place, where she was going to be completely alone. She had chosen that path and was warned but now as she walked, she felt the confidence with which she had justified her path melt away and an unknown fear build up… She was unaware of what was to come, who was to come or where she was to go. She decided to follow the path till she could, but she couldn’t resist looking back, at what she was leaving behind. She kept looking until they faded away; it faded away and then she couldn’t see anything. It was a big black void she was looking back at and then she stumbled and fell. She lay there hurt, waiting for them to come and help her, to comfort, to take care of her, but they didn’t come. She lay there until she knew, she was by herself now and she needed to pick herself up from there. She had to comfort herself. She was the only person for her now. She looked back one last time, at the dark void, where her family was or had they gone… At a life which was hers but was it now? She walks until she sees a ray of light. And she sees something new- a new country, new people and above all, a new life. This is her future, and the fear melts away and the confidence builds up yet again. She knows she can do it without them, because they are miles away-emotionally and physically. And then she breathes in…. That is how freedom smelt….

Freedom smelt just like fresh flowers for a butterfly, it smelt like a new patch of grass for sheep and probably they didn’t even realize how sweet it smells-freedom. To her it smelt like how it smells now. She felt like she had had a blocked nose and suddenly a whiff of fresh scented air had come her way. It felt like that whiff reached every cell of her body and made them feel anew. Freedom was the scent of satisfaction. She had never smelt it before, but it was amazing to identify it by its scent. Its scent can’t be felt by anyone but the one who feels free. Free as a bird to explore new skies, free as a bee to find new flowers, free as a dog to find a new place to hide his bones.

But… The chains binding her, were actually her roots. The roots that made her stand tall and strong. They were the roots that made her and they weren’t gone at all. They were with her. Without them she would be body without a soul, a mind without thoughts and a heart without feelings. She had a new life, she was reborn but this time, she is born with her roots, her values and she is a baby adult…Maybe!

Heartache, Pain & Then Peace

In some corner of this town,
There is a memory lane.
Long ago we walked it down,
'Tis where we saw flowers, sunshine and rain.

There’s the corner of happiness,
Where we laughed as we walked.
Holding her hands we felt safe,
We felt like a careless flock.

Can you see that shrine?
Here she used to spend some of her time.
Here she was none but herself,
That sweet old grandmum of mine…

Under that tree we took shade,
Looking for flowers everywhere.
Flowers yellow, blue and red.
For hours at the branches we stared…

There’s that window where she stood,
Looking over us like God.
The window’s there but she’s gone…
Leaving us neglected and forlorn

As I walk by, teary eyed,
To my heart I confide,
That was the time and it was mine
I know she still walks by my side.

Wailing aloud my heart explains,
Those happy time aren’t coming again,
The time is lost and she is gone,
All I have is a lonesome pain…

The glass is shattered but the window remains,
Just like her memories in my heart engraved…
The wailing stops and the chaos ends…
The best I have is this very lane.

Me Mumbaikar

Me Mumbaikar

The rain Gods manage flooding the streets of Mumbai with showers of their love almost every year…There is a bit of inconvenience but hey we enjoy it and have fun for those few hours. This year the rain Gods seemed to love Mumbai a bit too much…They rained down for almost the entire day, creating miniature Olympic pools for Mumbaikars to swim in… What might seem a natural calamity was made into a fun picnic by the Mumbaikars who hit the damp roads without dampening their spirit. And among the thousands of those stranded, was I.

being stuck in my car for three hours at Dharavi, we realized that taking the car any further would be impossible in the chest deep water. We decided to take the water logged road and walk home leaving our car. While wading through the chest deep water at Matunga, I realized that the city was abuzz with Mumbaikars all set to help people, come what may. We saw volunteers helping everyone find a safe path with their friendly guidelines, “Udhar gutter open hai, idhar se jao” “aunty dekh ke idhar divider hai lagega han” “yeh wala rasta mat lo pnai bahut jyada hai… udhar thoda uncha hai udhar se jao”.

By the time we made it to king’s circle, we were famished but glad to find Madras Café open. The annas served wadas and upmas and coffees in the candle lit ambience (the electricity was kaput!). People walked in drenched and the friendly owner gave them space wherever possible.

Moving on from king’s circle we started on the main road where there were abandoned buses and cars standing haphazardly. These were to later serve as bedrooms to the many left stranded on the road. As we walked, we heard songs and jokes. I quite expected some bickering about the floods, but Mumbaikars had decided to demonstrate their ability to have fun, no matter what…

Finally we came to our destination, thinking, ‘Oh! What an ordeal?’ That was until we saw the news about north Mumbai being cut off from the outside world, about many left helpless in the middle of the city, unable to reach home and worst of all about the people who had lost their life to the water. With collapsed cell phone networks and jammed phone lines, it was hard to locate your loved ones. But the night passed as the showers mildewed. Many took refuge in Municipal schools, buses and even bus-stops. Some kept going…

Next morning most of the water had receded but the cars still remained on the road along with people. No milk, no newspapers, but Mumbai’s very own Mumbaikars were down on the road with biscuits, bananas and clean drinking water for the stranded. These volunteers did not rest until each of the stranded passengers was provided with some kind of transport home.

In such a disastrous situation, help from government was scanty, but Mumbaikars were out on the road throwing their hearts and homes open, ensuring that the fellow Mumbaikar suffered as little as possible. The disaster management cell was invisible yesterday but help came from the amazing citizens of this amazing city.

This just goes to show that no matter what, Mumbai doesn’t stop living… The city has a million hearts that understand the needs of their city. These hearts understand their duties to the city and more importantly to the fellow citizens. A Mumbaikar becomes a brother to a fellow Mumbaikar in such times of need. And when you see the Mumbaikar striving hard to keep Mumbai’s spirit alive when challenged, you feel proud to be saying, ‘Me Mumbaikar!’

Potter Slaughter

Yes, I have finished reading the latest adventure of Mr.Potter. And now that I am writing my own feelings about the book I realize that I am a tad bit later than people who finished the book the same weekend. I admit I have been slow. But I feel the need to blame J.K. Rowling for the slow pace at which I read the book. I had finished the Order of The Phoenix in 10 hours flat, but the half-blood prince felt more like a mills n boon set against the background of a magical world being taken over by the dark lord.

I kept reading and within no time I knew that this book was to claim Albus Dumbledore’s life. That was the only exciting thing that happens in the book. Probably Rowling leaves us bored with ths one because the next book will be full of exciting adventures that will lead to the death of Harry Potter… But I am not pinning my hopes on it… I did so the last time and The half blood prince left me unsatisfied and thoroughly bored.

Pain

Pain

Pain you are my truest companion,
Physically, you come rarely,
But you torture me through emotion.

You never left my side
And I too keep coming back to you.
In every happy moment of mine,
Somehow you are there too…

Sometimes you come to my eyes
And come out as a teardrop,
And sometimes to feel you my heart cries,
You always bring me to a fullstop.

No, don’t you think I am complaining,
Because I have no right to.
It’s because of you I am living
And helping others to eliminate you.

They all are crazy,
Because know not how good you are,
We’re meant to be together,
Because I am not me without you…