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The Good Old Days…!

The brisk walk across the street had left droplets of sweat on my forehead. Although there was cold in the weather, I had that feeling of excitement running around in my blood. That was the precise reason that the chill did not affect me in the slightest.

I was doing exactly those things which I would have done a few years back, in my teenage years, as a college going happy go lucky individual would have done; except for the time of the day at which I was doing them. The sun had already set, and the bitter truth of having a shorter day and longer night bothered me. Today was a reverie for me. It seemed I had almost shunned the daily rigorous routine in those cramped up surroundings I just left behind some time ago.

The streetlights gave out there accustomed dim glow, the buses plied along their routes, the roadside vendors still sold the same merchandise. Nothing had changed; except that maybe the thoughts continuously revolving in my mind had a matured touch today. I was a changed man, an altogether different individual. But I had sought this particular chance to revisit my old surroundings, my old routes, and my old individuality.

Life was the same; yet today, I was feeling a bit less tired, although it was somewhat late now. I had a mouthful of my favourite snack from a vendor, smacked my lips as the memory of enjoying such economical snacks at one time engulfed me. I kept looking at the stars, and began to wonder how many times I happened to see them nowadays. Only things I saw these days were electronically illuminated screens. I was utterly enjoying the peace of walking on crowded streets with nothing to think and get tensed about.

The laptop bag on my shoulder contained only a few books today, and nothing else. A bottle of water hung from the pouch at my side. There I felt, was the ‘load’ of carrying nothing but careless attitude on one’s shoulder. I silently carried on my mid-evening trot through the unknowing crowd. Gently, with a smiling face, (the grin was particularly satisfying to me, it might have surprised onlookers beside), I entered the railway station. A striking flash of those fine moments when I had purposely missed trains for friends went through my mind.

The old staircase struck me as empty, I longed for the chatter which I did not hear today. I remembered my old habit, and strolled across to the farthest end of the station platform, the good old days when you used to sit here concealed, and I would come there searching. My feet stood numb as my heart felt for a second, that it just might be a slight possibility that you might still be secluded in the shadows somewhere behind that pillar waiting eagerly for me…….

But Ah!!!!!! The good old days have gone……

Smog…

Smog……

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“I am off to the morning walk aunty!” He called over his shoulder.

“Why do you need to wander in this chill outside, look at the fog, you would not see someone near your nose!” She called back.

He didn’t stop to listen to her comments, clanked the bungalow gate shut and off he went. Even as he began tracing his footsteps into the white oblivion, he could not help but listen to his aunt complaining to his uncle and his uncle advising her to let the boy lead his life as he wants it. He wondered whether he had any microphones plugged somewhere in the house. His years of association with his only ‘family’ had made him rehearse even what was said behind him. The people loved him; only failed to show it at the right time. Nevertheless he carried on with his tread.

His present morning walk was far from wandering. He had a purpose, a driving force that pulled him in these freaking, sub-normal temperatures; out the cosy little bedroom and the subtle warmth of his quilt. He checked his upper t-shirt pocket and felt the bulge. Satisfied that he had not forgotten, he marched past waking roosters, dogs lying succumbed to the utter cold, birdies woken & chattering meekly with their tiny beaks. He wondered whether the animal kingdom too suffers from cold, or is only the humankind subjected to such ‘cruelty!’

As he approached his destination, he caught glimpse of the figure standing far away beside the old ruin of a monument. The place was a bit on the outside of town and was quite lonely at this time. The sun was not even out of its nightly shadows and yet the slender figure was standing there gazing skywards. As he neared the ruin, he noticed that the figure was that of a young lady, maybe in her mid-twenties. Even in that petty light, he saw she was wearing the usual, white coloured Salwar-kameez, with a faint beige-coloured shawl, wrapped tightly across her body. She was clearly waiting there for somebody.

She turned, to reveal a beautiful face, with an innocent yet mesmerizing frankness. The lips, bright pink as they were, glowed in the wake of the pristine visage. Even as the sun shone its first rays on her, the sudden light made her eyelashes flutter revealing the deep blue eyes it protected. She smiled a smile of knowing as he walked towards her with eager gait.

“Well” he said, “Yet another bountiful morning!”

She looked at him as he stood beside her; witnessing the glorious light emitting from the single largest source known. “How are you?” she asked with ease.

“I am good. Tell me, How is it that you always come here before me, I have tried beating you to it, but I have failed; always.” He added as an afterthought.

“Maybe it is the eagerness that brings me here before you!” she retorted quickly.

“Eagerness for what? Meeting me, or the sun?”

Her reply was merely a smile. “Tell me what are you made up of? I bet it is something very unusual.” He asked out of sheer curiosity.

“Yup! You bet right. I am made up of chilling fog & smoke – pretty warm smoke at that!”

“’Smog’ is the word you want!” he laughed at her cunning. She would never reveal herself.

“I have always wanted to ask you a question,” he said with some audacity and more of a hope, “What might your name be? Pray tell.” He added.

For the first time she replied without a pause, “Its Mitra…!”

“Mitra! Meaning ‘friend’?”

“Yes, A friend in need…”

“Indeed!” he exclaimed. “You come here daily just because you know I…….

“Feel lonely,” she completed his words. “I know something about you, all of your history, some of your biology and much of your literature. I know you love to smoke when aloof and alone. Shall I tell you something; what you feel is not true, you are not alone.”

“Alone for eternity – right after my birth, this proves you don’t know me after all.” He said with some dignity. “If you say, I am not alone, where are you when I am lost during the day and in the scary torture of the night, searching for solace? True! Work gives solace, poetry does too, but they have their limitations, what about the whole life? Will you be there?”

“I am Omni-existent. The thing is, you fail to recognise me, after all I am in your thoughts, I am your thoughts, to be precise.” He noticed her shiver as a gust of wind tried to blow her shawl away. She clinched it even tighter around herself. “Now if I ask you to come with me into this thick mist, will you?”

“I have people at home. I can’t.” He said.

“And then you say you are alone, do your own words go together?” She gave him yet another of her subtle looks, held his hand amidst her cold-reddened palms, turned and started to go. She went a few steps into the now thinning fog as he watched her going, and gradually she was gone; like smoke.

He thoughtfully took out the cigarette pack from his pocket. Suddenly a thought struck him. “What gave more warmth, this cigarette smoke or her palms which were made of nothing but warm ‘smoke’?” Grinning to himself he threw the cigarette away just as he heard people behind walking along the path. He thought he heard them saying, “That guy there is surely out of his senses, why would he talk to the air otherwise?”

He did not pay any heed to those words. After all, he loved the fog, the ‘smog’ and then he ‘loved’…………

FEAR….

Fears are stories we tell ourselves…

The greatest victory you ever give to the opponent is by showing him that you have lost. The greatest defeat is when you succumb, to fear. Fear that maybe the enemy will win, by taking your advantage. One thing you forget however, is that this ‘fear’ may be the exact reason you are giving him the victory – and at the same time adding to your own misery.

Staying away from a possible difficulty won’t necessarily give a solution. The best thing to do is stay up, come back from the little ‘safe zone’ and stage up a fight. People are busy creating a field for you to come. The only thing required is the desire to move on in life, chuck out the fear or disbelief in you for yourself and return to normalcy.

Time goes on, and I personally believe that a person should too.

FEAR

The End of a day…

sunset              

With a tender hum of love and caress, the evening began glimpsing its way through the bountifully coloured archway across the seemingly endless horizon.

               The light faded early these days, leaving very little merriment for her. The dark lady soon came, singing yet another soothing hum of rest peace and with that was a blissful tingle of the wind.

               The night set in with a graceful sweep with dreams to carefully chart its way and to take her towards yet another beautifully adored saffroned horizon in the same utterly eternal blue heaven tomorrow…

River beside…..

 

The Bridge across the river in the city glittered in the citylights that shimmered through the manifold of buses, cars, two wheelers, glow signs and an occasional blinking of fireflies. Two traffic signals demarcated the bridge edges plainly. There were some benches put up by the municipality for bypassers to rest their souls. The benches too were graced mostly by the older generation frequently. There was also a pavement on the bridge road for pedestrians.

The youth was drifting aimlessly along the road leading to the bridge. Dejection was quite evident in his gait. His twisted face was clearly showing poor grace. He surpassed the honking of the vehicles waiting impatiently at the signals and continued his journey towards the pursuit of the cool breeze that flew over the bridge.

The wind blew his ruffled hair askance, but he apparently felt better. Muttering few beautiful hindi songs, he began to walk across to one end of the bridge return to another end and so forth. It had been atleast 20 minutes since he had begun his stroll in the pleasant weather. The time on the watch showed 9.05 p.m. Yet he seemed to have no concern about it. He was in deep thought.

His steps marked a beat to the songs which he was singing, now to the full of his voice. There was only the crowd which showed petty interest in his venture in the wind. Buses toiled, pedestrians bristled, but there he was all alone; but forgetting all his loneliness was a herculean task. He had heard his friend saying that the ultimate realisation of aloofness comes when you get the feeling – that nobody has time for You in this whole wide world. He however, thought otherwise.He felt,oneis never alone. Onehas blessings, memories, thoughts, and songs together to keep company.

Dampened with the brisk walk and the cherish of hissongs, he rested on the bench. The street was now becoming a bit emptier with the clock ticking away towards the night.

He checked out his cellphone and dropped his head on the back rest of the solitary bench on the pavement. He was tired, tired of this routine, tired of going around in circles over and over, he wanted change. He……..

 

 

With a sudden surge he got up, and with quicksteps boarded a bus. “Last trip hai kya bhai?” he asked the conductor.

He got the answer in negative. “Last stop dena aur return bhi diya to chalega…” He spoke with the knowledge that there are no return tickets in buses. He secured a place by the window and started gazing outside. There was a benefit in not taking the bike, perhaps you could admire the stars and look at the moon at times. He stared at the few passengers in the bus. Half of them were too tired toeven look straight, drowsiness in the eyes paving its way towards sleep. He felt warm; at least he was fortunate enough to return home early. ‘Home!!!’ Ha! he never had a home. His home was always only a “house” but never ever did he feel it to be like home-with all those strangers for roommates.He enjoyed with them, frolicked, but he felt they were dark faces only present to take treats, borrow money and have fun. The sudden screech of the bus brought him back. A speeding car had almost crushed the kid. Ah! He thought, at least I have a place to rest. The next stop witnessed a drunk couple, a young college going couple, who were perhaps on a night out but seemed to have crossed the saturation level in God knows what areas. He felt a bitter sense of irresponsibility on their part.

He began to wonder what was the last time he had had a date with his girlfriend and couldn’t remember it. Pitied on his own self, he started looking out of the window only to be faced by more thoughts of negation. The moon shone brightly but its glory had been marred by clouds blocking the clean light. “Just like my life!”, he thought.

The bus although empty by now was moving at an ominous pace. Suddenly the enginestartedmaking strange sounds.By this time it had reached the place beside the river, where he had started this last journey. The youth abruptly got up, leapt from the moving bus, ran a few quick steps, jumped on top of the steel railing, and with one deep breath, he went soaring into the black void which only depicted darkness due to the plainly flowing river beneath.

…

The sunshine on the glistening bike mirror disrupted his sojourn, he felt the sunlight gleaming onto his face. He yawned. His eyes weren’t as yet accustomed to so bright a surrounding. It took him a moment to dawn upon himself that he was wide awake from an overnight slumber, that he seemed lucky enough, he had a perfectly settled livelihood, his parents were not fighting or divorced, he had a particularly caring brother, then there was this friend of his, who made him forget gloom with her splendid little smile, had a superbly cool home to live in, and what not.

He got up, perhaps not a bad dream after all, and not a nightmare even. All he did was to succumb to the rivery winds and let them carry thoughts across bridges and make them come back with changed attitudes. All he did was to sit on the bench, drop down as if dead, not bother for a while about the traffic, on the street and in the mind; and life gave him answers,

River beside………….Camera360_2014_6_19_093456

The ‘Local’ite

The Localite… 

Walking down a little has taken the breath out of me. Patiently I wait for the Lady of the dreams. I have often called her so, as she is often characterized by making me wait for long durations, in daylight and in starry nights, with all those signals and lonely wooden chairs. Don’t get me wrong. I am not talking about my girlfriend. I am talking about my lifeline – or maybe everybody’s lifeline – The Inevitable Local i.e. the suburban train.

She comes out of the darkness, shimmering lights on the longing platform crowd. The usual cracking sound of the wheels screeching along the rails, and the gushing rush of the crowd to board and secure a place – to sit or stand whatever one aspires, or rather what destiny has in store for him/her. What I do, is simply start gazing out of the window, and what happens is thoughts start flowing in all directions…..

This 12 car/bogie train, wields diversity with it along the two railed path of its life. In the morning, when most of the commuters are drowsy due to sheer lack of a good night sleep; most probably the first local of the day; there is this old man with a wrinkled face, gazing silently at the deep withered lines on his palm. Then there is another, a serviceman travelling for the ‘paapi pet'(The sinful stomach). Then one gets to see those young children all packed with tiffin boxes and rucksacks for school. Also there is the youth like me travelling to colleges spread out in the city. Perhaps a study-engrossed damsel, some door-standing ‘chhapris’ (rowdies) and a lot more…

You may find a ‘weighted’ individual believing the local to be his legacied inheritance, and there is an irate fourth seater who is angry at the non-budging occupants of the seat. Then there are informants- people like me who shout about the following stations up ahead, just to ensure that people get up in time.

There are times when except for the rattling of the wheels, silence ensues for a little while until some salesman starts displaying his marketing skills.” Sabhi yatri yahan meri awaaj ki taraf dhyan de.”(All passengers please listen to my voice). You might have the chance to find young talents singing “Badi mastani hai, meri mehbooba”, with such grace as might shame an artist, coupled with the taal (beat) provided by just two pieces of cement tiles.  Falling ahead of them is the usual blind man which is sure to generate enough pity in the commuters’ minds to have a rupee or two of them; just enough to sustain life with.

You might surely see some old man, selling chocolates or lemon drops. He might not advertise his product, all he does is look at you with such pain in the eyes, that you will, hundred chances out of hundred have the feeling to somehow help him by buying at least a packet or two. Then there vendors selling “Safar ka timepass- Masala popcorn” with great pomp.

The real fun starts when a Ticket Checker squad enters the bogie in such unhurried countenance. They manage in catching red handed at least one to two rogues and other hapless commuters who have conveniently ‘missed’ purchasing a ticket. Some try to run away by juggling past the officer but alas! The team of TC’s never travel alone. They board in groups and catch in groups.

Then there is a concept called “My place”. A regular train commuter is well versed with this concept of sitting in the same place everyday in groups, securing places for fellow men and obstructing other passers-by exclusively. I tell you, this second class compartment is a broad gateway to conversations, arguments, discussions, and friendship in general. Time passes in a jiffy, and we get down at the destination as if it was just another cozy chat with friends in a garden.

There are also certain peculiarities while getting down from the train. People usually have the habit of vacating their seats for the next station in advance and queuing up in the gangway. Sometimes I wonder whether the etymology of the word has its roots somewhere in this crowd…! There also is an occasional lazy guy who has to be shaken to get up and reach down to the platform for his destination. There is great physics even in the act of unboarding the local. Just wait and watch, The crowd force gives velocity, display inertia with fellow commuters and disembark like a hare and stride along on the narrow foot over bridge like antelope.

The local trains is a great place to think. Sitting in the window and penning down some good poetry becomes the favourite pastime. The reasons are as such- Gently moving panorama of trees, blooming cosmos flowers, converging and diverging railway tracks, red yellow & green signals. At times that long haired young beauty boarding the general compartment, overjoyedness, her finding the way across the plethora of people and luggage, sitting beside you, at that moment you get to see her boyfriend’s hand. Sadness, you become once more very busy in your poetry. Still, watching whether that beauty is about to get down at the same stop as yours… What I love the feeling…

It happens sometime and particularly with me this has happened countless of times. Sitting on a fourth seat is pathetic, the lower part of the body is agonizing and as I offer the place to some elderly lady or gent, blessings sum up in their eyes. And just after a couple of stops, someone gets down and I get a window seat. Help helps!!! There is an occasional mother fighting that her child should get ample space to seat for the simple reason that she has paid for it. (The burden of proof lies on whom, don’t know).

There is also a usual anti railway campaign going on after a train delay or such similar event. People shout, abuse the authorities but again they cannot possibly leave their lifeline.

Now, when I am, with due effort, typing away this essay in my mobile, somehow adjusting to the ‘largely’ available space in the window seat, I hear far away somewhere, an aunty plainly advising her kid to go stand in the window near ‘Dada’ and at the same time a thought for maybe a fifth seat for the kid, is about to enter her mind. I am, as always showing deep interest in the mobile with sacred indifference to the twisted faces and abuses that already have been said in my ‘praise’….

I continue my commute along parallel tracks….

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A Cup of Coffee…

A Cup of Coffee…

“Those standard coffee-shops don’t agree with me at all. Instead, We could go to some garden. It will be fun.” I was trying to take her out of the sedentary positions which always make you stick to something. Either the chair butt, or your laptop or the ah! the cellphone – during office hours.

My colleague retreated, “Hey, what will you get by going there? My tensions are getting the worst of me, and you are interested in scenery?”

She continued, “Exams are on the verge, the boss is all excited on new projects, the deadlines are drumming off my head. And there you are, describing the gushing surge and the blissful urge.”

I momentarily looked at her tensed up and sweat ridden face, droplets of pure exhaustion were visible even inspite of the ‘23 degrees’ display peeking at her from the sidewall of our cubicle.

“Dear lady, I am a poet by birth, my mind will wander in trees, it will marvel at flowers and beautiful faces.” (I never left a chance to indicate his intentions, though…)

“Ah you surprise me!” said she.

But, in any case, she was looking dainty and delicate as ever. The traces of a mild lipstick that she had smeared while giving the latest presentation were still blocking my attention towards work. The tangy twirl of hair was further inviting me to whirl around in the chair and……

The right bottom part of the desktop screen was already alarming. “Hey you, it is time to… leave the office. It is already 5.30 p.m. Your bike is waiting for you downstairs.

I started packing my belongings in the usual untidy way. She was still sitting gradually dropping miscellaneous things into her handbag. Slowly but neatly. I marveled at her ability to chat on WhatsApp, pack her bag and maintain those tensed forehead lines simultaneously.

“You are coming with me right?” Sheer expectation; although I didn’t show it on my face.

“Hmmm, let’s try. Come on!…” (Ha, finally)

We reached the hill top in about half an hour. Securing a place partly hidden in a dense shrubbery, I said, “Look Adi, (short for Aditi), you are going to do few things before we take a start.”

“Start what?” She stared at me blankly. (Start expressing my feelings, I thought)

“Before we start soothing out your tensions.” I replied in a jiffy.

“First you are going to switch off all electronic devices.”

“All? I only have my cellphone dear.” She prompted. (Thank god for that.)

“Now nothing will disturb us, I mean you.” I faltered.

“Next, sit straight, close your eyes, and take a deep breath. Close your eyes dear!!!” I exclaimed out of apprehension.

She closed her eyes with the expertise of a trained yoga teacher. “Better. Now forget everything- the boss, the beauty contest this week, your exams next month, friends, even my presence.” (Don’t forget me though.)

I was muttering slowly in her ear, fully aware that my warm breath was clashing against the cool, breeze lashing her red cheeks. Yet I continued, “You are now independent. Free from everything; observe the plain audacity of the wind, the occasional chirping of the returning bird.  Listen to the sound of silence….. Forget the desk, talk with stones… Forget the seats, talk with leaves….”

I left her in this trance and became engrossed with the vivid sunset. The setting sun shone on me, but what I saw was her face.

After some time she opened her eyes. “Feeling better.” she said. I took her hand in mine, “Adi, Did you just witness that you can remain aloof if you want to; without ever needing closed walls and air-conditioned rooms? To talk. Talk with nature and it talks back….”

“Hmmm.” She replied.

“So, now what, after this sacred realization?” she asked.

“Now what!!” I muttered under my breath in just an attempt to say something to pour my heart out.

“Let’s have a cup of coffee….”

 

Phew!!!!

She lurched towards the bike to indicate movement; and me; I pat my hand on the forehead. Suggesting ‘succumbance’ to her majesty.

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You….

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She is waiting for me. I have purposely fallen behind for half an hour or so. I have already received three missed calls in my logs. And don’t know maybe a lot more on my private telepathic wavelength with her.

I walk casually into the park. Twinkling with enthusiasm, I duck behind a tree just across our decided park bench. She is a gorgeous sight. Dressed in pure Indian attire, she looks beautiful as ever. Blessed as I am in her presence, I stand there far too engrossed looking at her….

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You..

Meeting You, is a fantasy.

Catching a glimpse of You, is soothing.

Finding You engrossed in something, is pleasing.

Seeing You smile, is in itself destiny.

Eyeing Your eyes, is density.

Hearing You saying my name, is “lovely”

Tracing Your expressions, is heavenly.

Catching Your hints, is bravery.

Holding Your hand, is smoothness.

Touching Your heart, is fullness.

Sitting beside You, is peaceful.

And watching Your going steps, is indeed “grateful”.

Dedicated to someone’s “HER”……

From a soulful heart…♥♥♥

The Title story…….

The Rivulet of thoughts…

 

                      I get up, yet another day of my life, I rub my eyes. The world is same as yesterday; it will be same tomorrow and the day after. Probably, for the next few days also. But it is a surety it will change over time. Then something dawns on me, I began to ponder. I begin to search the difference. My habit of having a “thought for the day” through school beckons me. I start guessing the reason for my living this day, I search for questions and the answers to them, and I exclaim, and I beg nature for ideas that will leave me guessing about its wonderful ways!!!!!!

                   I do a horde many more things than just sit there in the bed enjoying the breeze flowing out of the sun shone morning air. I remember the half read book, resting idly at my bedside. My notice the wrinkled blanket and wonder what intriguing dream I had, last night, will it come true or won’t, Or what on earth was its significance in my cerebellum. I gather my emotions, my feelings, my beliefs, my faiths, and my hopes and I step out into this whole wide world.

                   I check out my mails, texts to me, whatsapp chat histories, messages sent to me sincerely, faithfully, truly, lovingly or simply ending with a curt FYI or PFA and Regards without actually meaning it. I scan the newspaper with a broad gateway to outside world; gulp down some tea with all sorts of bitter and sweet memoirs of the previous days to begin the day afresh!!!

                   I move out of the house. I arrive at the train platform. Oh What I love crowds!! The crowd inspires and elevates me. I listen to people, I watch them, I communicate, I discuss, I argue, I criticise, I praise, I condemn; and Oh! What a response I get! Reaching my workplace, opening up the laptop gives me a sense of responsibility. Working, I strain my eyes, meet colleagues, deal with them, berate juniors, mock seniors, admire some, respect them, and have awe for few others. Few I inspire NOT to be like, ever in my life.

                   I leave work, going through all the idiosyncrasies again, I witness the sunset, I watch the birds returning to the safety of their homes, check out my favourite sport to play, burn some fat and sweat a bit. A meet with a friend gives me extra energy to carry on during the rest of the 24 hours allotted for “Today”. Casually I drift down the street, catching a glimpse of few sufferings, some romance in and around the trees, or maybe a tearful eye on a shoulder or a restful bliss on a fair face. I notice people noticing me and I keep on walking. Some time or the other I may get a chance to sit beside a river, the flow moves something in the insides of the soul and not just the body which gets soothed by the calm waters. I climb my own mountains, my ambitions, everything just to get a bird’s eye view, just to satisfy myself to be above the world. In the evening, I return to the recesses of my own desk at my home. Yet another eventful day has passed…….

                   I come back to where I had started, I began to wonder, and once again I gather myself, I thank people I met during the day and express a desire to meet someone special in due course. I gather myself over the intricate coincidences happening in and around me. I keep pondering over in my mind – begin to get a state of completeness and there I am…………..

                  All that I see gives me a reason to think. That is the moment when a small trickle runs down the lane, drop by drop it gathers strength, and out flows a rivulet…… A rivulet of thoughts……

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For Calm and cold as it may flow,

Weed or Reed along may grow,

Thirst to write is all it needs,

Imagine, and there it is for all you know…….