Surrenders and Dead ends

Very long ago, I wrote a short fiction piece called 'Flailing Arms, Quiet Surrender'. Today, I found myself with a follow up, and decided to try a new direction to this story. Comments welcome.

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It was a dead end. He had failed.

And so had she.

When he met her all those years ago, he heard her, felt her, and found comfort around her. She closed him out but he was determined to heal her. Only... his determination faded faster than his t-shirt.

He hadn't realised it would be this tough. Or this emotional. There was history, so much history, behind all her complexities. And with every page he turned he got terrified. "Maybe I will only make it worse." "Maybe I can't handle this. She needs someone stronger."

She had started opening up. Revealing secrets. Sharing fears. She was starting to believe he was strong. Maybe strong enough to stay. And rebuild her. She would rebuild him too. She hoped to patch up his insecurities, his fears, with smiles, words and a comforting presence just like he had done with her.

He didn't want to be rebuilt. She was patching him up and he feared getting lost. Losing his past. Slipping away from the sharp edges he loved to toy with.

What do you do when one side of the sinking boat tries to float and find the sky, while the other is eyeing the seabed delightfully?

The boat broke. And so did they. She lost sight of the sky, always hiding from the light and never to try to float again. And he found his seabed, familiar and welcoming, dark and deep.

 - ©Haem Roy

March 2017

Scents

Scents. They imprint themselves. Not just with their whiff, but with their stories.

They become a part of us. They take away a part of us. And store it with them.

They take us back in time and bring alive memories as fresh as dewdrops.

The scent of the floral soap in the bathroom where you grew up, reminding you of the early mornings for school and the towel whipping your long hair received after a wash.

The scent of antiseptic taking you back to the ‘stumble’ in the playground which left a scar on your calf that hasn’t faded.

The scent of mustard seeds and curry leaves as they crackled in the pan to bring alive feelings of anticipation, eagerness, hunger.

The scent of Gulmohar flowers squashed upon the road, turning the path red. Just like the one you lived on as a child.

The scent of mogra flowers bringing back the prayer songs to your ears. Close your eyes and you can feel your grandmother’s touch once again, holding on to her pallu at the temple.

The scent of musk and sweat, blending with your emotions and taking you back to the tizzy of your first kiss.

The scent of freshly brewed tea with sprigs of mint, taking you to the little tea stall on the highway and an hour long conversation with a stranger.

The scent of an old book can make you nervous again. It holds the entire library where you spent the weeks just before the exams.

The scent of fresh ink, little love notes scribbled on tiny paper that made your day.

The blended scent of marigold and grass and you can almost taste the salty tears from your first heartbreak at the park.

The scent of smoke and perfume, and nights half forgotten. Music and lights, friendship and frenzy, adventures and regrets.

The scent of that deodorant. Used liberally on the trip of a lifetime, with hours spent in the train and on the road.

The scent of you. Bottled in my head. Locked away in my mind.

The scents linger. The scents never go away. The scents will always stay mine.

 - ©Haem Roy

January 2017

Wedding Blurs part 3: The other side of the glass

This story is a continuation of the Wedding Blurs series I started on this blog. If you haven't already, you can read the first two parts here:
Wedding Blurs Part 1
Wedding Blurs Part 2

THE OTHER SIDE OF THE GLASS

The honking was getting louder and louder. He couldn't hear himself think anymore. Good. These were thoughts he did not want to hear or think. He had finally made the decision to get married, and he didn't want that Devil's advocate brain of his toppling things over again, all because he had a ‘hunch’. He needed to stop sabotaging his life, and he would not go and spoil something potentially good once again.

This marriage proposal had arrived through the family matchmaker. She looked pretty, at least in the pictures. The 'bio-data' as they called it was also impressive. A top ranker throughout college. Constant promotions at her job. But would she be the right one? Was this the right way to look for a partner? There goes the brain questioning everything again! He had insisted on meeting her alone first. Family pressures can get daunting, and he didn't want any of the nosy relatives making his decisions. Or worse, her decisions. They met at a coffee shop near her workplace. Familiar surroundings would probably make her feel a little less awkward. He reached early and found a table that wouldn't be the centre of attention. She walked in just then, dressed in simple denims and a collared maroon shirt. Hair tied back in a tight ponytail, no make-up and no extra accessories. She hadn't gone out of her way to dress up for 'the guy', he thought. And he immediately liked that about her. He got up and pulled a chair for her. Once they had ordered, he looked up from the menu trying very hard to keep the glance just right. Too long and it would be a creepy stare, too less and it would be a fidgety ferret. It was tough for guys out there wasn't it!

He had always been a little awkward growing up. Until that year he was working in South Africa. Some say an experience away from home changes you. Or does it merely show you a hidden side if you that you never knew existed? It is true that everyone has a past and he was no different. He hadn't spoken about it since. He hadn't even told his family. It was so long ago after all.

Inside the small coffee shop, the music was constantly playing somewhere in the background. She wasn't initiating conversation and hence he began.
"So... Having a good day at work?"
"It is just normal. Hectic and chaotic. But nothing beyond manageable."
"Ok. Umm...
Err... Your bio mentioned you like Chinese food and reading? What do you read?"
"The family wrote all that actually. I usually read non-fiction now. Biographies. Have read fiction in the past but I stopped."
"Oh! Wait... They wrote? Does that mean you are here against your will? If that is so please tell me. I am not going to force any conversations."
"No that's ok. We can talk. They didn't force me to come here."
"Alright. My work makes me travel a lot. Do you like to travel?"
"Not really. I am more of a quiet person and would prefer to stay indoors."

What was it about the quiet girls that appealed to him so much? She had been a quiet one too. Reserved, shy, reticent even. He had met her at a conference where she was handling the publicity. She handed him the name tag and schedule for the day with a smile and looked away. He didn't. Light brown eyes hidden under a fringe, a wide smile and pretty hands. He didn't know why he noticed the hands but he did. During the entire conference he kept finding ways to go back and talk to her - to borrow a pen, to ask where the washrooms were, to request for coffee, to request another copy of the schedule. He noticed her colleagues giggling at the side. Damn it she knew! It was best to come clean then. At the end of the conference he mustered the courage to ask her number, and she already had it written for him.

The conversation and coffee did not last more than twenty minutes. She hadn't spoken much. But maybe she was just hesitant. After all, arranged meetings can get overwhelming. Plus he liked that she hadn't tried to be someone else or put on an excited face just for him. He had no reason to say no. The next thing he knew, it was a week before the wedding. Even then, they had barely met three or four times and that too surrounded by relatives or to shop for trousseau. She was still quiet, and had agreed to almost all the suggestions the relatives would make. That seemed unusual to him. He had heard of bride-zillas and how finicky women could be, especially for their weddings.

Ah finicky women! SHE had been extra particular about many things - where to eat, how she liked her food, how he should hold her hand, and so on. It was just a few dates after their first meeting at the conference, and very soon, they were head over heels in love. Days were spent texting, and nights cuddling. Every weekend they would explore some new getaway around the city - and she made him try all that he never would have imagined. From hiking to skinny dipping to cosplay, it was an exciting new world for him. And he was soaking it all in wide eyed.

The day of the wedding arrived. He realised he would have to rush to the shop to pick up his wedding shoes. No point sending anyone else because they all had their duties. And honestly, he was the only one with no preparation duty at the moment. On his way to the shop, he got a call from an old friend who had moved out of the city long ago. "What the hell! I heard you are getting married? You sneaky bastard! Who is she? You better tell me everything right now or I am coming there to spill all your secrets."

His secret ‘foreign awakening’ had made him feel so far removed from home and everyone there. His family had no idea, and he barely spoke to any of his old friends. He had started speculating settling in South Africa. He had started wondering about a future with her. When things changed. She was pregnant. The news hit him like a brick. But... Didn't they take precautions? Yes, but something must have been missed. It was done now, and it was here in front of him. He wasn't casual about what they had, but he had never given the future any serious thought yet. Suddenly he was thrown into adulthood, with serious decisions to make. "Let's talk about it then" he said.

The friend asked him everything - her name, what she does and how it all happened. "Wait a minute... I have heard that name before." He tried to recall how he knew her. After a few questions about where she studied and worked, he remembered. She used to date an acquaintance. "Oh... Date? Was it serious?" "I think so. He was pretty crazy about her from what I could figure. But I didn't know him that well." His mind was racing now on the various possibilities. The many things that could go wrong if they got married. Was she still in love with him? Is it over? Oh shut up! She had agreed to this willingly. She was probably over it all. But then why hadn’t she told him? Controlling the flurry of emotions in his voice, he pretended to casually ask the friend, "So where is he now?" "Unfortunately he is no more."

"What is there to talk about? I have taken care of it. The baby is no more."\

Coffee with a stranger

She walked back two steps and peeked. Nothing. She could have sworn she had sensed someone there.

But then again, her mind had been playing tricks with her these days. All she could think of was him. Not that she was distracted. On the other hand, she was her most efficient self, churning out work faster than ever. The work actually was the distraction. From him. From the thought of having lost him.

The best part about her job was that it allowed her to pretend. She could always find numerous excuses to cover for her slightly puffy eyes. "Oh, it's probably from staring at the screen all day". She could always explain the quiet moods. "Well, there is so much work. Do you expect me to be chatty or to work?" Mustering up a made up smile was breeze on most days.

But the pain showed up in those few spare moments. It was burden of knowledge, knowledge that she could reach out to him, touch him, talk to him, but had lost him. He was always there in person, but for her, he was gone.

Then again, the ghost was with her. His ghost. Of course living beings could have ghosts. Every person you've met and left an impact on, you've left behind a ghost. And his ghost is what she saw that day too.

She went back to that spot the next day. There was surely something she could sense. There was a café just around the corner and she decided to grab a Cappuccino there. As she sat, staring into blank space, a tall guy, book in hand dashed into the chair next to her. It broke her reverie and she almost dropped her coffee.

He noticed that and highly apologetically, offered to get her something. She refused, but he sat down at the same table and started talking. "I'm so sorry. You see, I was actually looking at that little kid in the corner and didn't really watch whereI was going. I don't usually do that, but sometimes I get distracted. Ok very often. Is the coffee here good? I think I need coffee. Excuse me, can I please order!"

She wasn't really listening. She was watching. Him, his mannerisms. Oh gosh! The chair crasher reminded her of HIM. That did not happen much, because not many could meet those benchmarks he'd set. No one ever seemed to match what they had.  Yet somehow, in just less than two minutes though, chair crasher had managed to cross a few.

She forced herself to talk to him. The conversation wasn't bad. The laughter and wit was ample too. And just then, coffee was over. It was time to head back.

She got up and excused herself. "It was really nice to meet you". He grinned widely, sprung up and gave her a hug. "It indeed was ". And she walked away.

No. Numbers were not exchanged. Numbers were not asked. Names were not asked. And yet, this half an hour with a stranger liberated her. She knew she would never meet him again in all likelihood. She knew this wasn't a date or even a new friend. And she also knew, that it was this stranger who just broke her shackles.

She had just discovered, that the benchmarks she was bound by could be broken. That they were possible. She had lost him long ago, but today, she had lost his ghost too.

Wedding blurs part 2: Erasing the blurs

This is my attempt at a sequel for a story I had earlier written. You can find the original story (Wedding Blurs) here.

The story continues:

The music was loud. That's a good thing. She wouldn't have to indulge in small talk. It's not like she didn't like talking. Oh no! She loved it. But now was not the time. This was not the place. And these were not the people.

She was here for a reason. And she was determined to return only once her purpose was achieved.

She walked up to the bar, carefully evading the spots with bright light. She was wearing a simple, elegant navy blue dress, short enough to show off her shapely legs, but long enough to differentiate her from the teenage girls who had just found freedom from their uniforms and were leaving no stones unturned to enjoy it. She smirked a little. She'd been there, and she knew that feeling. But that was another time. Seemed almost like another life to her.

He was with her then.

They had just met, and were still a little formal with each other, but his infectious company was not something anyone could ignore. She would glance at him from the corner of her eyes, and smirk shyly at his quips to the other friends. He would chat up the server like he was a regular, and he even managed to get a free round of drinks for everyone. No one knew how. He just did.

She shook her head to clear these thoughts. No. This wasn't a time to get nostalgic. It would make things even more difficult. She ordered a drink - strong scotch on the rocks. That was her new poison. She was far from her Cosmo and Mojito days. With a swirl of the glass, her gaze swirled, and then stopped. Yes. That one. In the corner. He was quiet, but looked eager. He was young, yet not so young that he would be impressionable. She picked up her glass, and started walking towards him. Her hands were steady, but the same could not be said of her knees.

The knees were always a dead giveaway with her. It is how he would catch her fibbing. When they fought (oh yes they fought!), she would try to be stubborn and stand her ground. She feared losing him, and while her face never showed it, her knees would just not stop quivering. Of course he knew, and of course he let her win, with a little knowing grin. He hated that she feared so much. He would always tell her, 'You cannot stop what may or may not happen. Instead of fearing the possibilities, just experience the present.' Preachy. But then again, it is exactly how he lived.

She walked up to the young man at the club, and struck up a conversation. Mindless small talk. She was an expert at it now. Relatives, in-laws, friends of the husband, even with the husband, practice was aplenty. The husband was on a business trip, and in a way so was she. With the husband and other relatives around, the mindless housework would aid in drowning the screams in her head. For them she was the ideal daughter in law. Always the first to volunteer for any chore, always busy with keeping everything in order, and even assisting her husband with office work. But only she knew how important it was to her that she stay busy all the time. And then, there were days like these. When no amount of work would be enough, when the screams leaped out of her head and surrounded her like a numbing reality. And here she was, finding another way to drown them.

She laughed and drank with the young man and his friends. An hour later, she whispered to him, 'Tell me you have a place', and smiled. A practiced smile. And expressionless eyes. He on the other hand, could not believe his luck. He stuttered a yes, and fumbled in his pocket for the car keys. She lead the way out of the club as he followed, quite shocked.

She was going to do it. She was going to have another one night stand. Maybe it will work eventually. These empty, meaningless encounters would eventually forge an empty meaningless hole in her soul. So that she could finally live without him, and could finally bear to live with his memory.

Mini-post: Scented memories

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Softly scented memories wafting through the corners of my mind. 
The scents that once enveloped me. The scents that have drifted away.

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Wedding blurs

UPDATE: This post was picked as a weekend must read by blogadda. Thank you for the support guys - http://blog.blogadda.com/2012/06/30/indian-bloggers-queries-conversations-best-blog-posts

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The drone of the shehnai music was filling the background.

I could see him standing right before me. The tall, lean physique. Smiling as he always did. With a glint of mischief in his eyes, the sparkle visible even from a distance. My tears instantly dried up at his sight. His smile had always had that effect on me. I had started believing that crying around him was impossible.

My mother pulled me away and I lost sight of him among the throngs of women. They were applying make up on my face and draping my sari. It was all a blur really. I just followed all instructions like a puppet, always keeping a lookout for him. Where did he disappear?

He would always do that. Disappear without notice. Back in college, we had just become friends. His sister was my classmate, and that's how we met. We'd hang out in the canteen, and his resounding laughter would just draw everyone in. He left every girl giggling. The way he imitated the teachers, but never disrespected them. The way he would immediately pull a chair for me when I arrived, as if it was a reflex. I was the quiet one, but he never let me get lost in the crowd. He would pull me into the conversation with a question directed at me. And all so nonchalantly. So effortlessly.

They were pulling at my hair now. Ouch! It hurt. Some pins and flowers being poked in, and the fake bun was too heavy. But I didn't really care much to object. The parlour lady asked me if I wanted something specific, and I just pointed to my mum, who was much to eager to provide inputs. Then all I had to do was sit and let them fiddle with me.

Now that I think about it, I always tried to escape making a decision, or forming an opinion. Only he could catch me. He sensed it early on, and never let my sly attempts succeed. He would ask me, "Where do you want to go for dinner tonight?" And my response would always be, "Anywhere is good." But he was relentless, and would bombard me with questions, till he understood what my mood was. "You feel like having Chinese? How about some Bamboo rice? Or you want some parathas? Pasta?" He knew every expression. He was quite different from most guys that way. All my girlfriends would complain how their boyfriends never paid enough attention to the little things, or how they never caught the moods and gestures. With him, he never missed a thing! Maybe it was because he was the only man in the house, with three women.

The women around me were getting noisier. They wanted to sing. I hated all this drama, and singing and dancing.

He loved it. He'd sing to me, and never paid heed to my objections.

Someone knocked on the door to beckon the 'bride'. They ushered me out and towards the mandap. My eyes wandered, and found him. Locked on him. I could sense a smile on my face. How could anyone be so charming?

The pandit began to chant mantras. The fire was too hot. I could feel the burning on my face. I just turned it away and faced him. Nothing mattered when I could see him, and that smile of his.

The way his thick lips gave way to reveal those slightly crooked teeth. The way his eyes turned really small, and his left cheek caved in to form a dimple. When we had first kissed, his thick lips were such a surprise for me. He was a good kisser yes. A really good one. And those hands. It's like they had a mind of his own. Playing with my hair, a finger down my cheeks, fondling my neck, tightly holding my back - so caring and yet so strong. Gentle, yet never clumsy.

My hand was now above the fire. Rice being thrown, and so much of commotion. They asked me to get up for the pheras. I was getting dizzy.

I had never wanted a big wedding. I always told him that I would prefer a court marriage any day. But he would argue, that our parents would be unhappy if we didn't marry according to customs. "A wedding is more for the parents sometimes, than the bride and groom", he would tell me. And the way he coaxed me, how could I ever disagree?

I sat back down. Sindoor was being applied to my forehead. I closed my eyes to avoid getting it in my eyes.
You know, if something ever got into my eye, he'd come real close and softly blow into the eye. Whether the dust particle left the eye or not I don't know, but his hot breath on my face always sent shivers down my spine. He always made me feel like a teenager with a crush. I'd go weak kneed when he'd whisper in my ears. I'd almost let out a giggle when he held my hand on the road. Not that he didn't notice. He knew the effect he had on me very well. And he was pretty happy with himself for that! And just to make me feel better, he'd tell me how much he adored me. I loved his stories of "When I saw you the first time..." and "You look so beautiful when...". He indulged me.

The magalsutra was in my neck now. I was married. And there he was, grinning from ear to ear. I touched the mangalsutra, looked at him, and his smile made me smile too.

They made me get up and sit on a chair. I looked around. I was surrounded by relatives. As I turned back in his direction, he was gone! I looked about frantically, but he was nowhere to be seen. That is when the blood rushed back to my head. He couldn't have been here. It was impossible. It was an illusion. That is when one tear finally escaped my eye and rolled down my cheek.

I remembered. He was gone. And, here I was, married to someone else. But I didn't care. I could live all my life with just a memory of those two beautiful years. Live with the pain of the fact that I had lost him. On that fateful day. That he was gone. 

Forever. 

Flailing arms, quiet surrender

Her game was finally over.
She was not the kind of person who'd let people in. She'd pretend, she'd smile and she'd put on a show of strength to hide every emotion. But for the first time, she had opened up her heart - to him. For the first time she had let someone into her mind.
Around him, all her facade was futile. He saw right through her smile, and caught her moist eyes. He never said a word, he never offered help, but he always stood by, playing along as she tried hard to hide. almost like an adult indulging a child with a game of peek a boo.
I can manage on my own, she'd say. Of course you can, he'd answer. But I'm here just in case. And that made her heart rise. That made her trust him. Trust him enough to even show her tears.
It just flowed. Her past. Her struggles. how she had made it through and how she had withstood those who tried taking advantage of her. She was a strong woman, this one.
But he was no fool.
He knew that the world had made her lock up her gentleness. There was a soft spoken maiden under those determined eyes. And he resolved to set her free.
He heard her stories of betrayal. Her stories of abuse. No wonder she had lost trust.
And all through, he just held her. No words were needed. Words would only make it frivolous. Words would only bring sympathy. She didn't need sympathy. She deserved care. Trust. Love.
And he'd give her that. Even if she fought him off. Even if she pushed him away. Because those were just her reflexes. Her battle scars.
He was determined to heal them. And his determination was what she needed more than anything. Ever.

The computer creatures

This is something I think about a lot of times when I am sitting on my comp. When I see processes moving slow, or very fast due to more or less load, I always imagine little creatures inside the CPU working really fast. When you are doing too many things, they can't multitask, and therefore everything becomes slow. If the comp is on for too long, they are tired, and everything gets delayed. Otherwise, they work in perfect sync, passing on information to each other and quickly finishing work.


So here is an attempt at a story, based on that imagination of mine.

The computer creatures

They were sleeping peacefully after a long night of running around when they were suddenly roused early in the morning. Work beckoned again. They got up lethargically and started carrying the items to their right places. Within microseconds, their speed had increased 10 times and they were rushing about faster than light. The little orbs of information had to be transported from place to place, and it was their job, their life to do it.

An authoritative voice shouted out orders into the loudspeaker. Some file had to be opened, and the little green creatures turned the key hanging around their necks and opened the large file in a micro-micro second. At the same time, there were orders to move a 'boulder file', as they called it, to the far end of the area. Immediately, many of them rushed to the spot and lifted the boulder to carry it across.

That was not enough, it was time to set up 'the connection'. As if working within the area wasn't enough, now it was time to work with other green creatures, in other areas. Did the humans even know how chaotic and exhausting that was? Did they even know how many casualties that led to? One 'virus' and half the area could be affected by the plague and be wiped out. Plus, everyone was afraid of that 'Worldwide Web'. It was like the black hole. No one knew where it led to, what would emerge out of it, or even where it would lead them. Only the daredevil ones ventured into that profession. The meek and timid ones stayed back and took care of the area work. They managed the old files, managed the backups and archiving, sat in the library for hours and took care of all those details. Adventure was a bit too much for them.

The portal to the black hole had been opened, and a few daredevils plunged in with their parachutes. They had special search torches to find their way in case they were lost. And they hoped to God that the human had hired the special forces for security against the terrorist viruses! Because only the specialists had training in recognising unwanted elements before opening or bringing them home.


As the day progressed, the green creatures were reaching the limits of exhaustion. The movers team was working ever so slowly, and parcels would just get stuck mid-way because someone had collapsed on some aisle. Yes yes, the human was frustrated with the 'not responding' errors, but there is only so much a green creature can do. Everyone has their limits.

Dragging their feet along the ground, the daredevil team finally returned home. It was a good adventure today, no casualties, just a lot of exhaustion and work. They had to rest before the next trip now, because, well, you couldn't trust the humans. They would press the buzzer and wake everyone up at any time. Better to catch a few winks when you can!

So, buzz ya later! Keep clicking.

How to identify the Gujritius homo sapiens (GHS)

This certain species originated in the West Coast of India and belong to the Indo-Aryan race of homo sapiens. With the advent of globalisation and human export though, these creatures can now be found in every little remote country there is, including that little country stuck in between Egypt. There are a few sure shot ways of identifying this widely found species:

1. They are collective animals. They will always be found with almost their entire clan. If on a rare occasion you do chance upon a lone GHS, you will see him befriending (or scares) other clans and species aggressively.
2. Their vocal chords are differently developed to speak at louder tones. They are incapable of whispering, mumbling or muttering. Even at a distance of 5 feet, they will be found using their full vocal capabilities to beckon each other.
3. Not quite unlike cows, they have a primary need to keep chewing. Their food chambers are located outside their body through and they will always be found with some edible items on their person. While travelling, if you are out of food, you can rely on them to have some stored at all times.
4. They are characterised by a peculiar form of dance movement. They are sure to perform the same when you play music of any kind, as the clan gathers in a circle and dances around.
5. Their currency comprehension and value recognition capabilities are quite low. As a result, they have their personal judgement of a value of an item. You will always find them fighting to obtain the same at a lower price, and at most times, they exasperate the vendor enough to gain their way. Something obtained free of cost of course holds most value for them.
6. Although they travel in clans, they readily include anyone from the same species. In fact, they are always on the look out for fellow GHS, and will go all out to find one if there is.
7. Be wary of swallowing their food if you are allergic to sweetness. If you are not, you can identify a GHS in an instant by tasting simply a morsel. Their sugar consumption level far exceeds that of an average homo sapien.
8. A social event or a wedding is actually a meeting ground of potential matches, and you will find the elder of the species discussing prospective matches at all times. No young GHS can hope to be spared of this custom of inspection at any event.
9. If you spot meat, be sure not to find a GHS in that area. GHS are herbivores and avoid any meat consumption. But the younger of the species have begun adapting to meat eating patterns.
10. Lastly, even the most unlikely GHS will believe in exploitation of resources. They use the available resource to the optimum and then find a way to go even beyond it.

Statutory warning: If unprepared and unarmed, stay within escapable distance of a GHS.

Time-travel in a split second

Sleep in your mother’s arms once again. Experience the first rain. Discover the secret cave behind your house. Feel the snow between your fingers.

Invent things that haven’t yet been invented. Or fly in a plane without leaving the ground. Lie among tulips as you watch the birds. Live on the moon for that little while.

Fast forward or rewind. Freeze time and play with it.

Jump back to that moment. Or create one you imagined.

Forget the world. Find the world.

Bring life into one moment… a moment of escape.

Life @ 10 km/hr

Escape. To the little bylanes while zooming on a highway.
Choose the diversion, even when the road ahead is wide open. Take the sudden left turn down the mud-track. Steer away from long roads to travel at 10 km/hr. Discover your own road, and follow the scents and sounds.

Escape. To unknown places some afternoon.
Jump the fence, and reach strange yards. Climb a tree and look at the world down below. Fly a kite on the hill no one goes to. Lie down in the hay with your dog.

Escape. To find life in everything.
Compete with the wind to laugh out loud. Splash in the rain while on your way to work. Walk slowly and follow the snail. Smell the leaves and wave at the trees. Wink at the stars. Lie in the grass and stare at the sky.

Escape. To take a day off from time.
Forget your age and run in the park. Eat all you can. Leave a boat in the stream nearby. Find shapes in clouds of places far away. Watch the sky change colours through the day. Sing with the birds. Dance without reason.

Once in a while, walk slowly through life. Once in a while, escape the ordinary.

Don’t grow wings. Learn to fly without them.

Sometimes, when a room feels stuffy, all you need to do is open the window.

Just like in life.

All you need to do is break free. Just like a little kid, trying to break free from his inabilities, to try and reach his favourite toy. Like a tree swaying with the wind, trying to break free from the ground.

Break the permanency of routine. And be the vagrant ray of light that winds its way through darkness. Be the whiff of scent that leaves its flowers to mingle with the air around.

Be the little drop of water that trickles down unknown roads to find its puddle. Be the moonlight that finds a way into the most reticent corners of earth. When you are the tired traveller in the heat, be your own valley of flowers.

When looking for an escape, don’t look around. Create one within you. Leave your mind blank for a moment, and let all thoughts escape you. Don’t go looking for the answers to life. Make up the most interesting answers yourself.

Close your eyes and reach your heart. Don’t run away to look for a haven. Find your paradise right where you are.

Let a moment of change enter every second. Let a smile escape when moods are sombre. Don’t wait for wings to sprout so you can fly. Escape to your paradise anyway.

OPPOSITES

(just a short story I wrote very very long ago)

Opposites

I am introverted, have always been so. I have never liked being in the limelight too much. The ‘In’ crowd is something I totally despise. I just can’t understand how they can live a life so dependent on others, on their friends; how they can share all their thoughts and feelings with someone else; and dress up and act and behave to impress others. Aren’t they satisfied with themselves? Why do they need others? I remain by myself most of the time; enjoy dressing up for my own pleasure. I am Sanskriti and I live with and for Sanskriti.

Oh yes, Sanskriti is one of the boring types I must say! I have known her since my childhood. Let me introduce myself first. I am Susie, and though I am 4 years younger than Sanskriti, I do know her very well. But she doesn’t know me. She was always scared to make friends, whereas I, quite unlike her, have always been a social person. I hold pride in my numerous friends and the ability to charm people. Sanskriti can’t charm even a dog even if she tries her best! I mean, look at her…oiled hair, no sense of dressing (where does she get these rags from?), cannot talk properly – forget English, always oblivious to everything…

Many laugh and make fun of my appearance. But then, what’s wrong with it? Oil is good for the hair; no one has hair as strong and healthy as mine. Those who have coloured their hair following the ‘trends’ will regret later on. I like my dresses, they are extremely comfortable and don’t suffocate you, or indulge in skin-show. And I speak very well when I am by myself, it’s just that I am not comfortable in company. I have been living a satisfied life, barring a few weird incidents. There are some periods in time when I am completely lost. It’s as if I lose consciousness and when I regain myself, I do not know what happened, don’t remember anything. But then, it just be due to weakness, as I often do not eat; I just don’t feel hungry.

Crazy she definitely is, and these ‘weakness effects’ are just signs of her madness. Living all by yourself will have some effect on the mind! No man is an island and all islands are in deep water. Forget her! I just can’t imagine her life. I live a life where I eat a lot, talk a lot and laugh a lot. Going to the movies, partying, enjoying all the pleasures that life has to offer. I have always been a free bird, with no one to bind me or stop me. I did what I liked, when I liked, since I was a kid. Who needs parents when you have so many friends?

My childhood was a learning process. My father was a strict disciplinarian and my Ma was a deeply religious lady. They imbibed in me their values and morals. I was taught to respect and obey all orders, work around the house, pray regularly, never speak or shout out loud and contain myself. I did try to follow all that, but I guess I am too clumsy. I wasn’t allowed to be friends with the guys, and they were too rough for me anyways. I had a couple of girlfriends, but none too close. I never had much to talk and was happy being with myself. That is the way to live – in all harmony and proper order. It was disastrous for me the day my father died. I was around 12 years old. I felt this deep sense of regret and loss. I do not know how he died, no one told me, and was kept away during his last rites. I was not allowed to even look at the body. Maybe they thought I would get scared. After Pa’s death, Ma’s behaviour towards me changed. She did not talk to me, or care for me. She just shunned me and always kept shouting at me whenever she spotted me. I think the death had affected her mentally. I cooked my own food when hungry, and continued with my activities by myself. She also died after a year or so, how I do not know or remember. After her death, I was sent to an orphanage as any of my relatives refused to accept me.

My Pop never gave me any freedom, always restricting and tracking every movement of mine. I wasn’t allowed to have many friends and boys were a strict no. But I loved hanging out with the boys; they were so much fun. We would play football, climb trees and do all sorts of cranky stuff. Of course Pop wasn’t supposed to know! Mom would ask me to do household chores, pray, etc. But I hated all that. I would mess up the chores purposely. These restrictions in fact egged me further and I tried my best to do just the opposite. They were bearing upon me too much. Finally, one day I couldn’t take it any longer and I killed Pop with my switchblade knife. Everyone was shocked and thought I had gone crazy. Mom now hated me and stayed away. Maybe she was scared! She would occasionally try to discipline me and order me around. But I showed her too that I was not to be pushed around. I killed her too…

I considered the orphanage my home and started living there normally. I got used to the lifestyle and didn’t need much for myself. I got into college and concentrated only on my studies. But, however hard I studied, I never managed to get satisfying marks. College was when these weakness-blackouts increased, sometimes even during exams. But I managed.

Yes, it was the orphanage where I knew Sanskriti properly. I was sent there after I killed Mom as all were now scared of me. Maybe they thought I was a serial killer! Ha ha! She would follow all orders, stay within her room and remain to herself. Most boring I believe! I, on the other hand, got friendly with almost everyone, including the watchman and peon. They would help me when I wanted to sneak out for a party or something. Studies were never my interest. In fact, I hardly studied. During exams I somehow managed to scrape through with a bit of divine and ‘other’ help.

These blackout phases are seriously scaring me now. I recently visited the doctor finally and he too was confused. He did not know what ailed me and thought maybe I should see a psychiatrist or something. I just hope it’s no serious illness. Two days ago I found some things in my cupboard, which did not belong to me. There were some clothes, the modern ‘trendy’ types and make-up. I found some cigarette packets and a switchblade knife and was shocked. There was also a diary with Susie written on the front cover. I did not know how all that came there. Maybe I had made a new friend during these unconscious ‘blackout’ phases that I do not remember. That’s when it started to worry me.

Well, she had to find out one day, and so she will. She found my stuff in her cupboard and wondered whose it was. Of course she doesn’t know me yet, so she is confused. But once she does, she will be shocked, terrified maybe. Earlier I would hide my things at places she never looked at, but at the orphanage there was no option. And it was here that I felt more free and expressed myself more often. That’s how she became suspicious and went to that stupid doctor. But of course he couldn’t find out anything. I can hide myself so well that I bet even the psychiatrist will be baffled. Though I do intend to get introduced to Sanskriti soon. I am eager to see her reaction, because helpless as she is, she won’t be able to harm me of course. I am much stronger. But she has to know me, her opposite, her other half, her other personality ….

Haem Roy

Buzzy Fly - Mission 'Harass Haem'!!

"It has become so hot. The sun has decided to roast my poor delicate body. Now its impossible to fly around any longer. I will have to get some rest. Maybe a parapet or a tree will do for a while.

Hey what it that? The weather!! O My God, its changing. I can see the clouds coming. I can sense them. I will have to tell my fellowmates and warn them. We have to start planning now and start buzzing around in groups.

'Hey guys! Did you notice the change in the weather? Its here now. Any moment. Come on, lets gang up now. Its the attack season, the season on invasion. Lets prepare our strategy.'

This is what we do every time. We are now buzzing in groups or rather a swarm as you would term it. Oh my God, its starting to rain!!

'Come on warriors, that house there. I see the window open. Lets rush in everyone. Fast fast, move it!

Try and invade each and every corner of the house that you can. The rain will not get us here. We are quite safe. Just be alert of those stupid fly swatters. Have your reflexes on guard.

Oh look there... target spotted. I think it will be good to start attack. Everyone move towards the human. Her name is Haem. Surround her.

Now, everyone, remember your job is to keep on buzzing in her ear. Create as much noise as possible. But never do that in a way that she can see you. Stay out of sight. That is more irritating. The other, groups 2 and 3, you are in charge of the hand and torso. Work like you are playing Kabaddi. You have to touch and fly away. Just remember, touch and fly away, and do it in turns. Never at the same side. When one finishes his turn on one side, the other takes over on the other and then back to one, and so on.

Groups 4 and 5, leg area. Keep moving around it and while circulating, like groups 2 and 3, keep touching and flying away. Remember, fly within sight for some time and then disappear and then come back within sight. All this has to be very quick.

Group 6 should be incharge of food. Everytime a plate or any morsel is spotted, it is your job to attack it. Hover over it, sit on it, and dont let Haem peacefully finish it. We have our right on it too, so while some can distract her by flying around her, the rest can deal with the food.

I will be incharge of overall supervision, and will continue to hover everywhere, and distract as much as possible.

MISSION BEGIN!!'

We have begun our mission and the hovering continues. This will be our daily task till the rains stop. And since the windows will not be closed always, we always have a way to enter. Once we are in, who can shoo us out. Sometimes they try and scare us with napkins but we fool them as we pretend to get out of the house and come right back in.

Its invasion time, and our mission -
HARASS HAEM AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE. NOT TO LET HER EAT AND SIT IN PEACE AND KEEP BUZZING AND KEEP BUZZING. HA HA!"