Can I sleep for sometime on Ur lap, Mom? I want to hug U the same way I used to, after I finished one chapter of revision for my 10th Boards. And today, my eyes are paining….looking at this computer screen for so long. I want to sleep on Ur lap, Mom. The warmth of Ur lap will recharge me for a couple of weeks again.........I m coming to U Mom…………Looking fwd for Saturde to b here……..:)

Will U let me Cry in Peace or not? U can’t take away my only Happiness. I become my Heart when I cry, coz tears originate from there. Eyes r only the instrument to bring them out in the open. I truly love my Tears. Maybe Tears & Heart are Lovers. When Tears r leaving the Heart, then the Heart cries. And what does it release from itself? More Tears. That’s Love, I think. U let go. U might cry, but still U actually let go. Whole heartedly………
And then U find Peace……………….
That same Peace that I feel, after I cry my Heart out………….

She

Maybe she wanted to be the only person who loved her own Self. She did not allow others to love her. Maybe she did not even want others to love her. Sometimes she felt the "void", seeing others around her, who were not like her. They seemed to have people ( apart from their immediate family) who loved them, more than they loved themselves or others, at any point of time. She thought- " Is this some abnormality with me?"


Sometimes she even thought that maybe others thought her to be a wierdo, living like that, and refusing spending time with people who asked her out, or for just some time with her. But, she always bluntly refused those people a part of her Life, which she would never get back again. As an afterthought, she did wonder whether it was okay to do that or not; whether she was hurting them or not, by bluntly refusing their love; by showing that she did not care much.

But then, after such reflections, she always found a strange peace, a strange satisfaction, within Her Self.

She would look at the mirror, at herself, and think- ' I am happy like this only. I don't want others to depend on me for their happiness. And neither do I want to depend on them for mine. I am doing the right thing, coz allowing them one moment's dependence will lead to the next, and then to the next, and then to the next, which I will never provide or even care for.

My Time is Mine and My Love is Mine. I love each moment, and each moment loves Me for being Me.



I Love My Self.'



She would Smile, and then go on with Life.........................................

A Marriage To Be Lived Through

I had married my company looooooooooong back- June 22 2007 to be precise. No dhol baaja, no baraati, almost a registered marriage. Sitting in a Hall, we had signed papers, and had lawfully become Bride and Groom. Then, we had our Honeymoon time. It's called Training Period. Hyderabad was our Honeymoon city and what an absolute delight it was!! Three months of non-stop fun and frolic. My Company loved me, and I loved my Company back. I gave 100 percent of myself to whatever my Company wanted me to be trained in. My Company also gave itself upto me, and rewarded me beautifully for my enthusiasm and dedication, by making me much more rich than others. :)

The Honeymoon soon got over. And the small tiffs of married life started, when my Company unexpectedly sent me to Chennai on Posting. My Company said- "Sweetheart, U need to endure for me. U kno I love you." I said-" Hey dear, that's not done. U can't do this to me if U love me". And my Company replied- " Don't worry Sweetheart. U'll endure. U'll b one happy woman. And we'll love each other much more. Trust me."

And here I am, serving my Company, and Clients. My Company did not break my Trust. Believe me. I am one Woman who endured the initial times. And came out Trumps. One Happy Woman.:)

But hey, I forgot to tell you the Golden Rule of this Marriage- no Sindoor, no Bangles, no Mangal Sutra. Yes, but what's remotely close to the Mangal Sutra is- our Holy ID Card. Every morning the proof of my Marriage hangs around my neck till it is late evening, and then I must remove it, for the outside world should not know my Company, lest they should know my 'richness', and then extract our money. That is about the money seekers. But otherwise, the outside world sees me with the respect that only a Woman married to my Company, and its identical Brotherhood Companies, deserves.

This is another day of Married Life...............Another day of sweet Marital strife...............:)

And My Company and Me...............live happily............for one more day..............:)

I
----
I can confess here.
I have nothing to fear.
Whenever I have felt love,
I have cried pearly tears.

Choked with emotion,
Warm fogginess before me,
And nothing else but,
The feeling I am loved….

And then I feel,
I can never thank them,
Who made me feel such joy…

Just coz I am loving ME…..
For what I am…..

All I can do is,
Be good to them,
And be loving to them,
Every moment of the year.

But alas,
My goodness,
Doesn’t last.

Alas I don’t
Love them enuff back.

Alas I lose my loving self,
Only to discover it,
After Someone makes me Love Myself,
All over again……..

II
----
I want that Someone to be Me,
I don’t wish to depend,
On Anybody other…….

But alas,
I have not yet reached,
That state of finality……….

I will reach there,
There is no doubt,
In my mind.

It’s the beauty of this journey…..
Which seems to be,
Infinitely interesting.

But hey,
Could it be more fulfilling,
Than the destination itself would be………..?

I have no answer as of now,
To this puzzling question………..:)

I like peace. I like the silence that comes with peace.

I like silence. I like the peace that comes with silence.

Hyderabad Blues

Hyderabad's rain is like a paradox. It drenches you, but still does not drench you.

Same for your clothes. It will continue to rain- an ever-so-slight drizzle- but it will continue nevertheless- conspiring to never let your clothes dry. And then it'll come at the least unexpected of times. Like, it'll be bright and sunny and U'll think- 'Hey it won't rain today!' But then suddenly, it'll start. And sometimes, even when it's cloudy in the morning, and U expect rain to grace the still muddy earth very soon, it'll not rain.

And then, as if it is an instrument of God's justice system, it lashes and drenches those people, at those very times, when they have knowingly done some terribly unjust and wrong things to other people. So, they get drenched, and suffer from cold, and curse the wretched rain for their evening outing gone horribly wrong, and for their misery.

But they don't realise that this is God's way of doing justice on them, for their wretchedness. The rain is not wretched. They are wretched. For which, Nature obviously seems terribly wretched and unrelenting to them.

And then, like a naughty playful boy, the rain gets to the streets and stays there( potholes & depressions are no less on Hyd's roads)- getting splashed on passersby and people sitting on the edges inside autos, and on people going merrily on bikes.

And the naughty rain even conspires with the as-it-is slippery and lavish granite floors of some software company buildings, to make more IT- people slip. And they fall. And then they rise again. And the rain even collects on some unlevelled walking areas, again continuing the splashing phenomenon, this time unknowingly by one employee on the other.

Then on evenings when it rains heavily, it rains gold for autowallahs. They charge exhorbitant rates, and if not agreed to by the potential passengers, the scoundrels simply refuse to take them. That's in case the autos are present and available, which is highly improbable on such days, especially just after office hours end- like 6:30 p.m.

In all probability autos won't be available, and IT people returning from office ( who don't avail company bus services), have to walk down some kilometres. In the rain, in scarcity of umbrellas, covering themselves with hankies/dupattas/books, tiny/huge splashes of muddy water filling the lower half of their jeans/chudidars/trousers/salwars( whatever the case may be).

In Orissa the rain acts more professionally. Heavy rains for half hour or one hour or whatever it is, and then it stops. Stop means a complete STOP. No irritating drizzle which will neither let clothes dry nor let people get wet.

There, whenever it rains, it rains like it never rained- with great enthusiasm and force.

But Hyderabad's rain is like a paradox. It drenches you, but still does not drench you.

This face, this mask

This face, this mask,
And this gruesome task;
To live,
And to enjoy life,
With this mask.

Clouded behind clouds,
Crowded behind crowds,
Torn apart by two worlds,
Walking the middle path.

Searching for me,
Knowing I am deep,
Inside me.

Searching for bliss,
Growing the gold,
Inside me.

This face, this mask
And this gruesome task;
I know one day,
I shall live,
And enjoy life,
Without this mask.

Nobody knows what is love.
They say love is this,
They say love is that.
I listen to them,
Watch them, read them.
While they say,
They act, they write.

All that I know,
Is that it is an enigma,
Which I do not know.
And which no one knows.
But which all think they know.

Devdas

I can literally smell the cold virus. Anytime. Anywhere. The sensation when it first enters my nose is like no other. The other day i was standing by the window,attracted to it due to the sights and sounds outside. Winds lashing wildly and rains falling in huge drops. The Summer Sun had been unrelenting before that, and the wild storm had come as a welcome relief. Almost a wild relief, I must say.

The gusts of wind were pleasant. Even playful. They were trying to meddle with my newly shortened hair& how?! Not in full force- just with how much pleasant force was possible through the window. Outside they were wild. Inside they were gentle.

And just then, I had that familiar feeling; of the cold virus visiting my nose, and sniffing the insides of my right nostril greedily. The air it released inside my prized nostril, within a jiffy, was warm- the signature of the revisiting cold virus. That signature feeling, which I had had my maiden experience of, during my stay in Delhi for my 11th and 12th. I had perfected the feeling over those two years while over there. And the perfecting art continued even after I came back to Bhubaneswar.

Not that the cold virus did not exist in Bhubaneswar (before I went to Delhi). Just that it had not acquainted itself with me as strongly in my birth town. But believe me. In Delhi, it became my lover. And an obsessive one at that.

Every season change found the cold virus finding me.

A slight rain, and it caught me and forced itself on me.
The first coming of winter, and it caught me and grew wilder loving me.
The end of winter and the start of summer and some cold drinks( even a wee bit of cold water), and it wildly loved me.

It came back to torture me every season. And each time I knew it whenever it might have just even touched my nose. No it wasn'tGabbar Singh and did not have footsteps. But it had that habit of releasing warm air when it touched my under-nostril skin.

My body always bravely fought back and let it know how much I absolutely detested it. But the illogical lover would listen to nothing. It would relentlessly rape me every season and cause my nose to bleed with salty water and block my breathing and make me sneeze unendingly and choke me obsessively to force me to accept it, and leave me weak and conquered.

And gradually I found, I had no escape from being the obsession of this relentless lover. I could feel the antibody soldiers within me slowly losing their ability to fight. Almost unbelievably and unintentionally, I became Chandramukhi welcoming Devdas into the Chaukhat of my luxurious nose. Defencelessly forced into prostitution.

Now, Devdas comes whenever he likes. He revels in the clarity of my nose, in the submission of my body to its whims, in its ability to wield its power and dominion upon me.......

And thus he found me again while I was standing by the window. On the day of the first thunder shower in summer, and he found me and sniffed me greedily, as though he had missed me badly since long. Precisely, since the last season change. He uses me as a prostitute, disposes me and does not forget me.

He comes back again.

He is Devdas. The cold virus.

U

I've known U for long,
Still why are U a stranger?

U peep in and make me happy,
And then U are gone.

U are me, and I am U,
But still U are U.

I just want to be U forever,
And I will be too........

I know not anything,
A drop in the ocean.

Let me be buried under the earth,
Let me be torn by a tiger.

Let me be burnt by Helios,
Let me be poisoned to the brim.

Let me be sucked of my blood,
Let me be hungry to death.

Let me be thirsty till eternity,
Let me be whipped and beaten.

Let me be tortured and chained,
Let me be imprisoned and jailed.

And still I shall survive.

Despite all,
I will win.

There was not a bitter day,
When I did not feel better.

There was not a happy day,
When I was not melancholy.

There was not a bright day,
When there was no darkness...

There is no single day,
When everything happens,
And everything does not happen.......

I
------

It was my soul,
Crying out.
Reaching out.
It reached out,
And said,
Why did I come?

II
------

I want to control,
Yet I am controlled,
By some Super Natural Power,
By a changing Fate.

What has to happen,
Will happen for the best.
Realising this,
Makes everything easy to accept.

III
-----------

Seconds, minutes and hours tick by,
Have you ever wondered why?
Ever sat silently on a dark night,
And listened to the ceaselessly ticking time?

Ever wondered about a night,
When the peace and calm would be unpierced,
By the ticking time?

The Common Man

The alarm crowed. A lusty king of the farmyard cock-a-doodle-do. He shut the mobile up. One hour and five minutes was all he had before his day began. He would steal five minutes from that. Look the other way, he told that frowning creature in his soul. I do it all the time. A little corruption. A little bribery. I negotiate with the world 24 /7. So why not an extra 5 minutes of sleep? he told himself and buried his head under the pillow. And so began another day in the life of an Indian.


He had seen corruption in every sphere of his life. News of corruption had followed his life as an Indian way better than the cops followed the trail of the murderers in this country. Be it the Kirana storeowners who made huge profits at the cost of unsuspecting consumers or be it the police officials collecting exhorbitant fines for no reason. Everyday he wore a helmet and no police official checked. A few days back he did not wear one, and was made to part with 200 bucks. He knew that no amount of complaints would get him justice, and did not set out to fight- he was a common man, in a simple job and wished to live a simple life. As a college student, even he had signed that he was present, later, while he was actually absent. That was also- a little corruption. When his little brother would not listen, then he would tempt him with a chocolate. That was also- a little bribery. But as he stepped out into the real world- working at the job, buying things for the house, applying for telephone and (later) internet connections, getting electricity complaints redressed and so on, did he come to know corruption and bribery as though they were his family members.

He tossed on the bed at these thoughts and buried his head deeper this time, under the warm pillow.

The pillow was extra-ordinary. The man with the sleepy eyes had sold it to him, at what seemed to be a cheap price. But who knows? He might have made a neat profit. A little corruption again. But hey, it was okay. At least there was peace in the darkness of the pillow.

Aaaah...what peace! In such bliss, he could only forget all woes of his monotonous life, and remember the graceful curves of the young woman he had met a month back. She was selling flowers on the fringes of the busy road. He had just got down from the taxi with a tampered meter, having paid the money without bad-mouthing with the paan-chewing taxi driver.

He had an important purpose now- to attend his colleague's reception. Thus, avoiding feel-bad factors was necessary. And first and foremost, he had to buy a bouquet. Desperately looking for a florist, his eyes fell on God’s most beautiful creation- sitting and selling God’s fragrant creations, even while the vehicles honked and swerved frantically.

Her eyes glowed and her face and exposed neck, shone radiantly in the bulb light, and partly, in the vehicular beams of light. As he neared, he felt his pulse racing. He asked,” One bouquet please”. She looked at the new customer, nodded, almost winked and started to briskly make a fresh bouquet. He watched her eagerly gathering gladiola and roses, arranging them in a beautiful way and then suddenly asking him,” That’s okay? Or need more?”

He was staring at her and was suddenly taken aback, but quickly composed himself and nodded. Her voice sounded like the tinkling of bells. She was using scissors to size up the bottoms of the stems, wrapping silver foil and thread, and keeping a silent smile all through. He liked watching her collar bones protrude and show the soft hollows in her neck, while she was zestfully working with her hands.

When it was done, she handed it over and he felt the soft (deliberate?) touch of her fingers. “ Seventy rupees Sir”, she said and smiled. He took out a hundred rupee note and handed it to her. He refused the change she immediately held out.

He waited a few moments to see her face flushed and to see her extreme happiness, but he saw nothing. He just saw her knowing glance- he just saw that she made so much money and more. Perhaps she wanted more, because she was capable of giving much more. Maybe she did. For men paying her much more than what she spent on her flowers. He turned away before thinking much more, and resumed his purpose. But the encounter with her, he would not forget for a long time.

It feels like ages.
Or perhaps just a moment.
Where were you?

You were only closeby,
In the morning dew.

The petal smiled,
The flower bloomed,
And there was the dew,
Or was it you.....

Thinking was not necessary,
Even consciousness was not.
No urge felt of missing,
Or remembering you a lot.

You were a steady flame,
Lighting the background...
Am glad you are always there,
Spreading warmth around.....