Walking in the rain

I like walking in the rain because it hides my tears.
I like walking in the rain because it soaks my fears.

The rain drowns my doubts,
The rain washes my worries,
It keeps me in the moment,
The past, the future, packed away and sent.

I like walking in the rain because it makes me forget.
I like walking in the rain because it tunes my mind to reset.

The rain brings me romance,
The rain makes me dream,
I build my world within those droplets,
I imagine conversations, moments and the life I expect.

I like walking in the rain because it makes me smile,
Let me walk in the rain for another mile.

- © Haem Roy

Kya maanga?

Titli ke rang nahin maange,
Na chand, na taare, na aasmaa,
Bas itna hi toh maanga tumse humne,
Jatao zara apni chaahat ka nazraana.

Phoolon ke baag nahin maange,
Na moti, na heere, na jevraat,
Kuch bada nahin maange tumse,
Kyun mann tumhara phir hichkicha raha?

Satrangi indradhanush na maanga,
Na zid ki, ke kadmon tale ho jahaa,
Duniya bhulaane nahin kahaa tumse,
Lekin tumne meri guzaarish ko bhula diya.

Sang e marmar ka mahal na maanga,
Na sone ki chaadar, na chaandi ka bistra,
Na lutne na lootaane ki baatein hui tumse,
Aakhir kiss baat ne tumhe itna darra diya?

Pyaar ka vaada kataihi nahin maanga,
Na koi kasam, na saath janmon ka,
Abhi toh shuruvaat hai, kya hoga inse?
Bas thoda apnapan jataane ko kahaa.

Na hum tum jaane, na jaane yeh jaahaan,
Jo kal hoga woh kal dekha jaayega,
Aaj itna hi toh maanga tumse humne,
Jatao zara apni chaahat ka nazraana.

- © Haem Roy

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.

Stupid, silly me

I met him at a party,
We got along like wild fire,
Spoke for hours and laughed for hours,
With a promise to meet the next day
We said goodbye under the stars.
And promptly he called,
There was a smile in his voice
Asking to meet, rather dying to meet,
He said to me he could hardly wait,
His enthusiasm nothing could beat.

How could I not see?
That he had a thing for me
Oh stupid silly me.

He'd bring me flowers,
He pampered me like crazy,
Took me to the best places in the city,
I was the queen for him
And he was smitten completely.

How could I not see?
That he was in love with me
Oh stupid silly me.

But then came the time,
When the fights slowly began,
He called me names and locked me up,
my every word annoyed him
And I just seemed to mess up.

How could I not see?
This wasn't supposed to be
Oh stupid silly me.

He'd return home late,
He would not even kiss me,
I wondered why he never spoke to me,
Till I found a picture hidden,
and it wasn't a picture of me.

How could I not see?
That he was betraying me
How could I not see?
That we were no longer 'we'
Oh stupid silly me.

- © Haem Roy

My music and nature soaked weekend

I had heard about it through a friend, but I wasn't really sure what The Great Gig in the Sky really was. I read up the page, I asked around, I tried to figure it out, but in my head, there were still a load of doubts. I can get pretty introverted in social situations, and I wondered, would I feel lost here. Add the fact that my musical inclination is sporadic and very mood-induced.

But my love for the outdoors, hikes, treks, open air and more got me going for it. And let me begin with - I am glad I did.

To introduce the concept, The Great Gig in the Sky is something started by a group called Jumpstart India. They travel with a band / singer-songwriter to a location that is nestled amidst nature, and that is where the gig is. No frills, no equipment, no fancy lights or speakers, no set-up or stage. Just a small selected audience, and the performer. This is usually an overnight camping trip, and the best part is that you get to travel, interact and get to know the musicians you are listening to. Music is better appreciated when you appreciate the people creating it. Isn't it?

Now that I have explained it, about the one I went for.

We travelled with a band called Dischordian. Here emerged my second hesitation. I had never heard the. Or heard of them either. They describe their music in these words: Spanning multiple genres, but primarily grounded in folk, punk, and blues, Dischordian’s sound is difficult to categorise or describe. 


But would I like it? Would they be a bunch of snooty band members who just stomped around?

Fast forward to the bus ride. Hot as hell, and sweaty, it was where we awkwardly smiled at each other. A courteous hi, and a basic ice breaker round of introductions. We arrived at Kondivane, gasping for something cool, a breeze, a gush of air, something. Heading for a local hut, the fan turned into the second ice breaker, as everyone plopped under it.

Lunch and lazy bonding, some talk and getting to know each other was followed by impromptu jamming as a Ukulele was discovered. Cut to looking for a decent spot to swim, in the parched stream. As one of the band members put it, Dhiren from Jumpstart tricked us into a mini hike by guiding us to a spot a little further ahead, before we decided it wasn't large enough and walked back to the main stream. Loads of fun followed, splashing about, and even recreating 'We will rock you' with water splashes (yes, I am not kidding!) To my utter delight, the band members turned out to be total fun, with no airs, and a great sense of humour.

We learnt how to pitch tents and pitched our own tents in an open field. The band was working with us, clearing ground, pitching tents, moving stones and more. Then we headed to a 'chowk' sort of area, under a tree, for the main event of the trip - the gig. There were just a few of us on this trip, and that transformed into a more intimate setting and performance. The band played some really nice songs from their latest album, and I discovered a new sound. I was also fascinated by the number of different instruments they could play and used for their music. They had us jamming along, as everyone drowned in the general mood of the night. And it was even better, when all the lights were turned completely off.

We were told that this gig that lasted over two hours was one of the longest Great Gigs. Did not feel that long if you asked the audience. Tired and sleepy, everyone headed back to the freshly pitched tents, and decided to sleep under the stars! I was still hungover on music, so it was my headphones, my phone playlist and me gazing up making shapes out of the stars for a long time. I even got to use my brand new sleeping bag, but that is just a personal landmark! :)



The next day was pretty hot (still!) and lazy. Some decided to go back for a swim, while the rest just lazed around chatting, sketching, writing (only I did that!) and generally vegging out. More random jamming ensued.

If I had to, I could point out things to dislike. But the best part about this little trip was that it made me not want to point those out. Except the heat of course. You cannot ignore that. Nor can you do something about it. I dived in expecting no luxury, nothing big, and returned with some good friends and fond memories. A cooler time of the year would have helped a lot, but that did not stop us from having fun.

Jumpstart is a company that is new, young and has just kickstarted. They have a brilliant concept in this, and over time, they shall probably make it more professional. But I do hope that does not happen. Because, for me, the charm was in doing things together, in figuring out solutions to a glitch together, in a joint recce to decide on the location of the performance, and in the exchange of ideas that actually brings a group together.  I would definitely recommend something like this, but I will also throw in a warning. Do not sign up if you are used to luxuries everywhere you go, if you expect a prim and proper world around you and if you cannot bear the thought of roughing it out. That is not the purpose of these gigs. Sign up with an open mind, no huge expectations and a drive to have fun no matter what, and you shall have an experience you will be proud of.

Also, if you are travelling in the summer, carry shorts!
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You can find Dischordian on Facebook here or check out their website.

Check out what Jumpstart is and does here.

Photos Clicked by Manish Usapkar and Vilas Chavan. All copyrights with Jumpstart India.

Drunk on Music

So, I spent the weekend on a musical-nature trip with a band (more on this in another post). Nature has always inspired me to write. Words flow in like the rain, and peace just drowns me. I can sit quietly and watch the sky full of stars for hours. And this time, we had music to lift the mood a notch higher. Obviously then, my pen could not be left alone. I scribbled some things and here is one of them:

DRUNK ON MUSIC

Rhythms that fill, the streams and the hills,
The strings hum tunes, singing with the wind,
The stars blink, drunk on the music,
Nature moves, rejoicing in sync.

We've carried backpacks of joy,
We've brought along smiles,
All we need is our music,
And we can carry on for miles.

Miles turn to minutes, and minutes just dash by,
When you're drunk on music, the world all passes by.
Let the birds chirp with you, for they too want in,
No one's left out, even the trees are jamming.

- © Haem Roy
29th April, 2012.


I also wrote another one in Hindi. But I don't have a title for it yet. Here it is. If you have any suggestions, let me know:


Chuppi si chaayi hai, aankhon mein dhundhlaahat,

Saans dheemi dheemi, bas dhunon ki aahat.

Yaadon ke palchinnhon ko hum sang liye,

Jholi mein lamhon ko sanjooye,

Apni dhunki mein sabko sang liye,

Sab sunn liya hamne kuch na kehte hue.

Chuppi si chaayi hai, aankhon mein dhundhlaahat,

Saans dheemi dheemi, bas dhunon ki aahat.

Palkon ke neeche chipe manmauji khayaal,

Chaahein woh fal latke jo taaron ki daal,

Jhoomte gaate hue khushi se behaal,

Phool bhi chale dekho tumhari hi chaal.

Chuppi si chaayi hai, aankhon mein dhundhlaahat,

Saans dheemi dheemi, bas dhunon ki aahat.

- © Haem Roy
29th April, 2012.

The butterflies

All is calm as you walk ahead,
On the road your gaze is set,
Bam! Wham! You spot him then
Forget the who, what, where, when.

Within you they start to rise…
Don't you love the butterflies?
I do. I do.
Don't you love the butterflies?
Don't you?

You look at him, he smiles back
Sparkly eyes and you lose your track
Clouds of a dream floating in
On your face a nervous silly grin.

They follow his little bright eyes....
Don't you love the butterflies?
I do. I do.
Don't you love the butterflies?
Don't you?

Your oyster is the world
Headlong you are hurled
Dizzy at the ride yet wanting more
You love the rush. encore! Encore!

They discovered where happiness lies...
Don't you love the butterflies?
I do. I do.
Don't you love the butterflies?
Don't you?

You think of him, the voice, the hair,
You love yourself, sniff the air,
The tingles, excitement, sober highs,
Leaving you with a bundle of sighs.

You just can't control the smiles...
Don't you love the butterflies?
I do. I do.
Don't you love the butterflies?
Don't you?

- © Haem Roy
19th April, 2012.