Feb 13, 2009

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

Dec 4, 2008

I can manage



When the tide turns on me
When every step beholds a rock
I'll be fine
Cos I can manage.

When the world seems lost
And I grapple with directions
I'll be fine
Cos I can manage.

As you worry about your own
Go on with your life
Don't bother about me
Cos I can manage.

When I need someone
I'll hold my own hand
Don't look back at me
Cos I can manage.

But don't worry for when you are low
Or just need a push to go
It's you who I'll look at first
Cos my own I can manage.

- © HAEM ROY
Dec 04, 2008.

Oct 1, 2008

The lonely bungalow feel


The sweet smell of grass envelops
dew hanging mid-air
mist tying you up all around
a gush of darkness approaches the ground

stars float about, having their siesta
the moon has just stopped bothering
the cottage before you stands in a permanent shadow
the trees covering its promiscuity

and as the crickets begin their speech
the tiny world silently listens
tip-toe, whisper or scream

No other sound will get ears

a wave of eeriness and you walk faster
wanting to get away, but being pulled back
as you crunch the gravel along the road
it's always a wide stretch - behind you or ahead

all your senses alert almost
your Mind wafting away
hushed whispers are all your mouth can manage
seems like someone's carried your voice away

your lonely cottage is your Den
the shadows around it ignored
a tiny lamp your constant companion
the trees sharing the secrets hidden from you
with restless peace your heart keeps beating
as you sleep enveloped by the Lonely Bungalow Feeling...
- © HAEM ROY 
1.10.08

Sep 11, 2008

I want to run away

I want to backpack...

Just pick a haversack, put in a few things, carry some money, a map and set out. Maybe decide the 1st location, only the 1st. And then go by the wind, or impulse. Explore the uninhabited, dine with the locals, hitchhike down roads, bathe in waterfalls and write by the stream. Breathe in the fresh air, read a story that the clouds draw, listen to the music that the little village boy with the flute composes... and sleep in a sleeping bag under the stars.

But... (there is always a fricking but), responsibilities, home... family to care for!

Ah well.. some day for sure. I know. And those wishing to join me are most welcome.

Aug 25, 2008

Ode to the brave train traveller

This was originally written for the Open Humour Blog:

To the brave train traveller


Thou brave child of Alexander the great
Thou who fights long battles with fate
O’ lucky bearer of the choicest insults
Enlightened thou be, by the foul-mouthed cult.

Ye rise early, crosst many roads
Before thy might the villains bowed
Ascending a wagon full of faces so vain
Thousands to battle, hundreds will be slain.

An umbrella beest thy sword,
With closed eyes as thou climbs aboard
Elbows be thy armour and shield
Thy feet danceth when the hands are sealed.

Protecting the land where thee sets foot
Forever it seems, thou will stay put,
Jostling and pushing hath no effect
Thy strong body suffers no defect.

None dareth rise up against thy might
For if they do, you are all set to fight
The teaching of years, the words in thy mouth
Flying like bullets, at those vagrants uncouth.

None can attempt a feat like thee
Hanging by a finger, avoiding that tree
Standing up to that army twice a day
It ain’t that easy, to battle everyday.

A salute to the master kicker,
The uncrowned king of trains
The soldier that bravely battles fate
And steps out alive, injured but not slain.


- © HAEM ROY

For those interested, the above verse was an attempt to parody the heroic couplet style of writing that was prominent during the Renaissance age. It is characterised by exaggeration and grandeur, making the subject seem almost divine. Another characteristic is the form which is rhymed couplets in iambic metre, though this one is not in iambic metre. (do you even know how tough it is to calculate it, let alone write in it!)

*Definitions*:
The heroic couplet, lines in iambic pentameter rhymed in pairs(aa, bb, cc), appeared early in English — it was Chaucer's favorite meter — and came into vogue in poetic drama in the seventeenth century, but in the eighteenth century, in the hands of masters like Dryden, Pope, and Johnson, it became for many years the dominant English verse form. Its name derives from its use in seventeenth-century "heroic" (epic) drama and poetry.

Alexander Pope's Rape of the Lock is an excellent example of a parody of heroic couplet, and very very funny too.

Aug 8, 2008

SOMETHING'S MISSING


a vOid - hOllOwness
Breeze drilling through you
It’s not just your ReflEction in that puddle
that’s restless, It’s a ReflEction of you.

An incomplete WhOLe you feel like
A leaking jar –
filled to the brim
You don’t know where that bastard piercing is
that’s draining the you out of yOu.


- © HAEM ROY 
[For the curious, the capitals and placement of lines is on purpose.]

Apr 10, 2008

Kuch Lamhe

Some nazms that I penned some time ago

KUCH LAMHE:
1) Taaron ki shaant timtimaahat
Aur andhere sannate ke beech
Uthti awaaz jo failaye madhoshi
Andhadhun samaa mein hai ye roshni ki nazuk aahat

2) Suryoday gagan ki rangeen chadar odhe
Raat ki thand mein garmahat ka aagman
Oas ab kho rahe apna astitva
Ruke nahin jeevan ka chalan, bas ab dikhai pade

3) Ped ke patton mein dhup ki luka-chippi
Kabhi kabhi vayu maharaj ki dakhal andazi
Thake musafir aur ped ka saath to suna sunaya hai
Par dhup aur vayu hi hain is rahi ke humrahi

4) Varsha mein paani ki boondein khelti ajab raas
Kabhi tez ya madhdham koi na keh pata
Josh mein aa gayee to sab Ram-bharose
Aas-paas na dekhti kuch… anjaam sarvanash

5) Phool jab pathjad ke hruday se khilte
Toh soonepan ko chod dete soona
Par gar hota na pathjad bahaar se pehle
Toh kya phool itni muskuraahat faila pate?

6) Saanjh ki lapet mein phir sab aane lage
Kuch jeev shuru, kuch thame, par jeevan toh abhi bhi chale
Bheeni mitti ki mahek ghulti raatrani ki sugandh se
Sab kuch abhi bhi sada-sa manmohit lage

7) Subah uthte hi palkon ke saamne chaye dhundhlapan
Sapnon ki duniya ke nishaan abhi bhi
Nidra aur jaagran ke beech ki ajab sthiti
Jab hosh dagmagaata, shantata ke dariya mein behekta man

8) Palkein jhapakte hi, oas ki boonden khaari,
Khud mein koi raaz samaaye,
Girte aur ho jaate hain ye toh nadaarad
Par de jaate hain ahsaas halke, jab ho jaati hain yaadein bhaari

9) Madhraatra… Kehte hain ki hai sannaata
Toh phir kya hai vo jantuon ki nishani
Woh tarraana, madhur awaazein
Aisa anokha shor kyon koi na sun paata?

10) Ant kabhi ho sakta hai samaapt?
Kya shuruaat bhi nahin anth ka aagman?
Chakravyuh mein ghoom, vipda mein phase
Gar yahi sochne baithe, toh kya manzil hogi praapt?
- © HAEM ROY 

Feb 29, 2008

Comfort has to be sought

Comfort is naturally a very relative term by all means. Every person keeps aiming for his/her comfort zone at every point in life. The way one chases comfort keeps reminding me of how men chase women, playing all tricks, trying to woo her in all possible ways, trying to figure out what makes her click and leaving no stone unturned. Comfort is no less than the stubbornest of women, probably even worse, as it keeps eluding you, and just when you think you are settled in its lap serenely, disturbed not even by dreams, a humungous pin decides to lodge itself in your backside.

The problem more often is deciphering what exactly YOUR comfort zone is. It is misjudged and one is left scurrying about in pursuit of something which eventually is futile. Only on reaching do we realise that we probably seek something else, and the mad run begins again.

Thats the cycle of life. Comfort keeps eluding, wrong judgement manifests itself at every turn, and mirages keep blinding long sight.

But to look at it from a better perspective, even though the destination may not be a permanent comfort zone, it definitely is not worthless. One can treat it more like a pitstop, a refuelling junction. The bliss of reaching the mountain peak may not be there, but there is a definite respite from the endless turbulences of the journey, and the motion sickness. A nap for an hour, some food, a calming of the senses before you are back to the grind.

I found a similar 'comfort-post' recently. Something cliched yet unfailing - books. Sometimes the processes of our own mind are so complex and confusing, that you fail to keep pace with it. You don't understand what is happening and it is almost the verge of a breakdown. Everything around you seems like its spinning, and that its bent on knocking you down for sheer sadistic pleasure. Probably you can do something to stop this, but that would be possible if you grasp what is happening!

Those are time when you try and seek the comfort zone. You desperately need it. The chase obviously beings you to the 'nap and food break'. And i ended up with a book, that helped me drown the world around me. I shut myself to the rivers and island world of 'The Hungry Tide', an all-time favourite of mine, and revelled in the fictional characters and emotions the book offered me. The pace and gripping narrative of the book played their part in keeping me glued, even at a re-reading. And in time, the storm within me had settled, I don't know how, as I took things in their stride. The smile was back, and I was not being knocked down. (Even if I was, I probably turned into a huge, green giant who could not be knocked down!) As for the tiny pins that were being flung at me constantly, I learnt to deflect them in a way that they barely scratched me.

But I still seek my mountain peak
Momentary posts may refuel me
But my eyes are set on a destination I cant yet see
Till then I try to be happy with breeze that whistles by.


- © Haem Roy