THE CHOCOLATE, THE GIRL IN PINK AND A SILLY SMILE…

The frills and laces bounced softly as she hopped up the three steps to reach the waist high counter. Her's was pink- with a diffusing white towards the hem of the frock that seemed so fragile; quite in contrast to the husky black of the evening and the elders around with their dark shades of attire stained in sweats of toil and blotched with the umpteen upheavals of outrage and despair the hours under the sun had hailed! The cool of a trapped, suffocated urban wind wrapped us in a shawl of uncomforted relief. But there she was quite unaware of the heaviness around and untouched by the sermons of the devils we grown ups have discovered with the years of maturity!
'Uncle!'… And she is out of breath. The run down from the neighborhood seemed to have taken her breath away. Or was it that the obscure people painted in the grays of life, burnt in the scorching sun, now radiated off a certain heat, unsettling her? She was just about reaching the counter of the shop and in her out stretched hand there was a fifty. 'A gel pen uncle', the sonorous voice seemed like wishful music, a tastefully crafted symphony, for even after the words had diffused into the environs around, it seemed to vibrate in the hollow of my cranium. I wished she would shoot her barrel of questions! Black ink or blue! The dozen brands would be scanned or an elderly bargain for a deal on the price! In my mind, startled, a little dazed, kind of lost… I was doing some unexpected, babyish thinking. And I didn't even know the child. But aint we all strangers waiting to be arranged in the neural networks of human relationship? But then what could she be for me? A sister… a friend, or with her blocks of wisdom she might even guide me through the elderly trouble-shoots of life! It is so funny sometimes the way we weave into space and piece in the virtuals of selfish desires, realizing later that quick sands of time have gotten us laid again!
'What's your name', I ask with a barely audible whisper… trying to drag the spills of unreal thinking back to the times at hand. Being practical- focus- shoo off these immature wanderings of my hapless mind…
'Sweta'
She says with the bulging blacks of her eye looking at me with a glitter that makes me shrink. Again the syllables seem to comfort me like 'drops of Jupiter'. Who says the fairy tales aint meant for the grown-ups! The vulnerable edge of the little girl connected to the fears lurking in me; the apprehensions, trepidations, of the years added to my skin and bones seemed to leap out and seek refuge in her nonchalance, the innocence of a little girl.
'Which class are you in?'
'Fourth standard'
The red vermillion and yellow sandalwood on her forehead added to the beauty of this little fairy. Who knew what lines of fate, destiny, were etched for her… what would she grow up into battling against the darks of the night and heats of the day. Somewhere deep inside I wished her well… I never could apply the engineering logic to the tenets of my life but there as she turned back to the shop-keeper for her little deal; I tried to stretch myself back and forth trying to find a place in her little world.
I offered a chocolate, for that was why I had come to the shop myself. Got a few bars of dairy milk for our Pavlovian interests (us- me and my roomies) and offered her one… 'Here, this is for you'.
'No, I cannot take it… no, no…' And she had nodded her head in a strange determination. It was not the usual blush of a child trying to weigh out her love for the chocolate against the prohibitions of accepting stuff from strangers. She was not in doubt and I could see the surety in her eyes- maybe a little bit irritated she was by my gesture.
And she had turned away from me, closing the deal with shop-keeper 'uncle', as I turned back to enter the microcosm of my existence.
Amidst the cacophony of vehicular traffic, of strangers pitted against each other, on road, trying to surge ahead… I suddenly felt a flutter inside. Suddenly the babble seemed to subside; the evening air seemed to carry a distant smell of those white flowers from our garden which bloomed in the autumn. But how could it be possible, for I was far away from home waging the wars of survival!
I turned back once just before the blind left would take me away from her… forever, who knows whether I would even meet her in this fair of life! Who knows whether she'd remember me or the tinge of shame and hurt that might have reflected from me…
She was walking down the steps, the gel pen in tow, the bounce and rhythm in her steps and she looked up to meet my eyes.
A slight smile and a wave I offered to Sweta as I took the turn of this amazing maze of life. Somewhere I realized that years of education, learning and unlearning had not rubbed off certain notes from my music; and it was wrong to imagine, assume, that life would only be a cross of changes… some nuances never wither away. And there is no yard stick to measure, no explanation sought… for some it's just the way of life.
And again, even though she remained a stranger, the girl of standard four made me befriend a shade of my own self.
How we mature is not encompassed fully in the chronometer of survival.
I munched into the choco-bar and a silly smile lit up my face- someone seeing me then would be startled but how would I explain that certain joys were just… beyond words… beyond lines…

LOVE ACTUALLY

Love. Of making life… nurturing life… uniting…shouldering, even remembering long after it has gone- love, an emotional hopscotch drawn all over the canvas of our being. The Trojan horse in human existence, the Achilles heel of steadfast survival… the matrix behind equations of human bondage- love fuels us, keeps us alive!
Measured wrongly in the pans of give and take, abused repeatedly in selfish interests, misunderstood alas! In the clots of pain, moments of despair, love is the mistress of everyone’s heart. Sometimes we seal it with the tests of time- measure it like five year plans, tie it with threads of social bonds, rituals and inheritance. A macro-level idea forced on the ‘little hearts’, love becomes a sugar coated bitter pill- saccharine!!
It becomes a right! It becomes a demand- it degenerates into evaluations. Love rocks hard the cradle of human existence, only the intensity varies with the tides of time.
Again it is not in the scriptures nor in the sciences and literatures to be understood objectively- it is only in the abstract smells and tastes of human heart that love germinates.
Not statistically bound, not measurable, not even visible to the x-rays of civilization (!!)- this darn thing is the salt of life without which all the dishes seem bland.
If oxygen fuels the biological, physical attributes of survival, love is its universal catalyst. Building blocks of life cemented together in love- even the seeds of destruction are watered by the loves astray…
What is it… what it is that can launch a thousand ships? What is it that breathes life into the white marbles on a full moon night… what is it that defines the threads of human relations and beautifies the prowess of humankind in the facets of life? What is this love actually?
Well… love is a book of synonyms & antonyms. Alphabetically, it generates all the feels and passions but in time the screen behind the mirror tests our grammar of life :))
It generates happiness! Utmost joy… in the togetherness, the trust, the shares of little nothings of life. The suns bright in the space shared, where the rose’s red enchants the soul! Dreams bubble in the frizz of childish banter, naughty whispers and solemn promises… till death do us apart?!
Love gives us a reason, makes us look out to the unexplored, to walk that extra mile… to make someone feel special- and to feel that tinge of selfish owning, the right!
But with seasons in the sun… the winters follow autumn; the rains lash on after the warm summers bid adieu. In the twilight of love, we walk away… walk away from the castles of time, the sketches of much debated dreams… the desires of awaited futures- together.
The lashes of rain hitting the metals of construction in the rhythmic fervor… the rumbles afar like fury unleashed from the dregs of the heart… and the tears washed away in the incessant rain- seeps back into Mother Nature.
The panel of juries holding court inside the chambers of the heart battle out the Q’s &A’s and we win every time- alas! To win was never the objective! To evaluate was never the motive, to analyze-no! But love’s like that… the sinusoids sometime have phase shifts which blow the fuse of life. Huh, aint possible to get an electrician for that :))
Love’s lost… the papers of obscure tales (fairy-tales!), those letters… words remain… voice rings in the hollow of the cranium and darkness envelops the logics of existence. The pain tears into the muscles of strength and craves for the familiars.
People do move on… they discover stories of love in times another, the suns await them in distant hemispheres but love? Never dies… trickling through the arteries and veins of life it gives us strength, makes us weak, portrays the joys and sorrows together in one reel cause life is all about those ‘opposites’ written in the language of love! Deep within we know… love actually… is the greatest magic of life!
To those who have felt it… the moments remain beautiful, for even if the letters have been smudged in the tears of pain, sense of loss- love still is the favorite ring-tone in the ‘cellular’ combinations of our life!!
Like a candle in the wind… it flutters, scared, vulnerable, shivering… but aint gonna blow out- how can it, when, love is in the air… huh!

reflectionz.... don wanna lose them...

We would arrange friendly matches, cricket, during the summer hols. Pooling in one rupee each, various prizes would be taken. Comic books, rubber balls, use-and-throw pens and once we even had a round ‘electronics’ watch. Actually the watches were given as a freebie with some health drink and someone had already had half a dozen- decided on some good hearted charity! And so! We had everything to play for and bag the digital dial. There used to be three match, five match series.
Collecting player profile cards during world cup; the prized Maradona, Pele and Klinsman would be hunted for! Exchange schemes, deals struck and card counts compared daily- little envy, considerable pride! On birthdays we had to buy those bubble gums (cards coming free with them) for everyone but you could keep the card! A sweet lure to egg the b’day boy into being benevolent for his own prosperity! It was so precious for us- our own concept of shares and debentures!
Sharing our worldly possessions was the convention. Video games, story books, cricket gear, indoor games or even those ‘phoren’ chocolates we would get from relatives offshore- it was one big treasure trove. The gang would meet whenever there was something new added to our property list! Running around the neighborhood, shouting out names, in no time we would be all happy faces- proud and richer!
Academic interests were shared too. Class notes, books, ‘egg-jam’ rescues or even the ruckus at school- forever partners in crime J
During the umpteen religious and social festivities, we would go around the locality in all finery, trying to match steps with elders around. Rendering help with over-enthusiasm when someone would ask for. Arranging flowers for the deity, serving food for community lunch or putting up skits for the evening function, we would co-star in all the verticals of life.
Sitting down, tired bodies, we would plan some ingenious strategy; solving any local problem which we would have inkling of (from censored elderly conversations) to deciding on a winning combination of our cricket team, we would gate crash into all the domains around. And we always perceived that we could make a difference in a big way!
The girls in the group would complain a little about cricket and football though some were exceptionally good athletes! They would win the tack events of the community sports- those desiring indoor game sets would be given off to them! Still, we would all huddle in the next day and life didn’t change J
Girls were especially good at the fancy dress competition! Aided by their maa, they seemed to walk away with all the goodies. We would always blame it on their elaborate dressing skills, their natural make-up habits and sigh… hahaha!
There was nothing shameful in asking for a second helping… or even a third… and we believed in this mantra even during ‘aunty sponsored’ meals at each others’ place. Chatting, shouting and guffawing with an excitement that was never moderated by the scolds. And even the ‘kakimaas’, as we used to call our aunts (friends’ mother) would never tire of us! There was never a gap between the son and the rest of the group. Affections and rebukes were shared equally- but they really never made us change!
We never changed, or so we felt!

Climbing up the ladder from the rudiments of education to middle school, we were all a bunch of friends who walked the path together. Who had never thought about taking, exploring the by lanes around. Who had never tried to measure out certain aspects and see how life would seem without certain shades, certain people!
Who never feared… of change.
But the metamorphosis had begun inside each one of us. As education and social commandments showed us the individual track of life! The importance of ‘I, me and myself’ mixed in the veins of a gang of friends… like air bubbles trapped in a vessel, the collective bunch started to keep aside some oxygen for selfish interests. ‘We’ were just a collective ‘I’ only. And we never realized how time ate away into the forts of our friendship.
People re-located, new people came in; the zombie of Indian education system started strangling us with school, tuitions and examinations! Of all those virtues of science, commerce and then again graduating and working with dignity in the same substrate- society!
The evaluations were pasted on each one of us, as if suddenly the kids were no more friends but rivals- fighting out for the morsels and armed to the teeth with varied resources. Even… even parental affections seemed colored as kakimaa seemed no more like ‘my’ own.
The sharing of possessions stopped, slowly, and even those knowledge sharing were banned by some social dis-trust! Hahaha… time played hara-kiri with the gang of friends… and now! In time, has died the sweetness of a bunch of kids who had looked at the panorama of life together- hand-in-hand!
Did anyone ask them whether they wanted to change? Were they given a chance to re-group and battle the titanic of time? Or did anyone help them to retain the collective smiles, their essence of life?
I have lost them with the years. In moments of strange silence, pains, tears or even utmost happiness, have missed them. Their antics, their laughter, their cries and even the scuffles we used to have! I have just missed the silly smiles which never faded.
Or even would I recognize them, more than a decade after the cross of changes? Ironically it’s no looking back. The ladder rungs swinging in the airs of life and the ascending climb would be hindered with this stoppage.
Those ‘half-pants’, t-shirts, frocks and ribbons have given way to brand formals, starched manners and corporate codes.
And so, as I now walk down the winding puzzles of life, maybe I meet my friends from the days of yore… and brush past; or in measured silence or words, and the new found etiquette just maintain a distance.
Life has become a stranger for me. I am running fast they say, I am running good, they even have given me a handsome raise- they have clapped and toasted to my success! They have really made my life- where the past is prohibited. Where the future gobbles down the measures of present to suffocate existence… where friendship translates into profit margins. And here- I, me and myself- just lost in translation!

Sourav, Sanjay, Chotka, Ruku, Bapi, Pompi, Papai, Tultuli… even some names now escape me but am I complaining? I have to fly down to Japan tomorrow and rake in a new deal with the conglomerate there.

The shadow of happiness...

Measures of life hard done by gloom
Grains of sand hour-glass fill
Stains left by the scorching heat-
As life seemed sacrificed in the temple of doom

God of small things- those temples reside
Rituals and lore- threads of belief
In prayers and offing, our selfish need-
Measures of life in benevolence decide!

Benevolence, the virtue, of the blessed soul
Those tales of yesteryears- bygone
Shares of joys and pains alike
Yellows of life, from the parchments unroll…

Seasons of the sun, those parchments grace-
Pendulous life, the waging wars!
Efforts to steal every inch of ground-
Where the shadows of happiness did impress

The shadows of happiness- color o’ rainbow!
Born of tears, the pains of life-
And far away on the creation canvas
Do light up the horizon in its celestial glow.

Ordinariness of life in the celestial light!
Peeps out to shake the slumber melancholic
As again the distant dreams germinate-
With the vibgyor of life in the distant bright!!