Saturday, October 26, 2013

Dark and Dreary

The afternoon set in, rainy and dark. The clouds had pulled over the sun for having trespassed over my dark period and cried till I felt safe within the multitudinous folds of my quilt. The room gleamed with an eerie gloom that could only be best described as my own mind while a lonely hand stretched hard and waved the curtains across to let in a passive stream of light, exploring the path of the dust that lay accumulated from time lost on its way to Earth.

    The  knocking hasn't ceased. The person is relentless and won't give up. Dragging my heavy feet across  a cold marble floor, I moved, blinking between sorrow and seeing through tears. Stopping at the door, I yelled that I was coming, wiping away the slate clean of any traces of smudged chalk with the sweater whose hands fill mine. The door creaked, almost out of practice from the last few days. I pulled open the heavy door.

 The light was unbearable for me to take. A door-ful of radiance hit me as he entered the house with a kiss and some big bear hugs. I couldn't but stare at the silhouette of light that lit my house like a Christmas star that throws its dots of light, life and hope according to engraved patterns by an artist, a lover in his own accord.

'Maybe you should try coming in,' he said.

I stood rooted near the door as he walked back to me, throwing his light and shadow across the room split by him alone and shut the door tight to retain the flavour this house has become accustomed to.


'Yes, me.' he uttered, through those perfectly formed teeth. His overgrown locks fell across my face as he carried me in all ease and grace, that I have never seen anyone else do. Walking to my darker chamber with the single ray of light, I fondled his cheeks with those beautiful dimples that could very well act as the life-saving pond to fish in need of life, that which only grew deeper as my hands traveled their distance.

The imaginary boundary between us threw itself into the corner, the sides of the bed became but one. All I could perceive was his stubble against my collar bone, his body pressed to mine and hands that caressed what I was, every inch through. I twiddled a while, moving away only to be pressed against him, a little closer, some more passionate kisses and tickles transmitting across my own body moving onto his own. Every time he smiled, a burst of light burped out of my laughter, every time his hands played their tune across the boulevards of my body, strings connected from my head and till my toe; music flowed and resonated through the entire room. I could smell the smoke off him and we reveled in our own world of beer and vodka, the scent raising our sensitivity. No longer was any part of me insignificant or strong, it was but whet and vulnerable. For a long time there, we were but one fused mass that might have even melted had not there been that darkness in the air and the coldness in the light. In that warmth that he radiated, I closed my eyes to receive his love and never woke up.

  Hard, breathless raps on the front door landed on my ears.

  The darkness rolled under my eyelids, tears streaming hard as I woke up to an absence where presence was uncertain. The knocking on the door only grew harder. I wiped my face clean of pain and walked towards the edge of the world, in hope of death for a visitor. I passed the shelf and saw the calender lying around, the same from the last time I ever saw it.

Source:Google images 


Friday, October 18, 2013

Book Review- Pittho's World

The book's cover and the blurb is what makes any reader pick up any book. (Sniffing the book follows preceding this action.) 'Pittho's World' seemed to have a very luring cover design and blurb, but the book was definitely not what the blurb promised.

   It was interesting to read the detailed episodes of many of the protagonist Sheiku's relatives as narrated to his what seemed like a rather disinterested listener of a girlfriend, Rani. The family origins and the rather monotonous narration could have been dealt with much better given the rather unexpected characters that arise in the course of the story. 

 The characters Apa and Abbu were rather intriguing. While some parts of their lives seemed to have been stated without reason or any connection, the character sketch has been well done, especially that of Apa's whose strong-headed and independent nature opposed the very setting of the times in the book. The initial thought that strikes people is that these stories are to mingle to reach somewhere, but that never happened except for the fact that the author has tried to establish in 200-odd pages that he is ready to move on to the future. 
It was an overall decent read but not brilliant. Probably a buffer book, a light read between heavy reading.Last but not the least, I still don't understand why the book is titled 'Pittho's World'. There appears to be no direct relation, though if thought about, some abstract answers could be presented. It could have rather be titled- 'Sheiku's World'. 



Wednesday, October 9, 2013

Of Dances and Dyslexia

Way too many titles await patiently to be crossed off an old list on a cupboard old
and yellowing paper
while being stuck with a story for more than a month seems the trend.
More stories waiting to be read dance in sporadic instincts
and the list isn't patient anymore.
The letters dance and jumble among themselves
Tales are getting mixed up.
Good story it might be in itself
or I'm down with dyslexia creeping in at twenty-two.

Thanks Bill Watterson.  

Tuesday, October 8, 2013

A Junction

There is this particular junction I cross everyday on the way back from college. One of the main roads in the city which is now a huge mix of one-ways,complicated yet simple routes that has been changed from its main course ever since the construction and all the digging began for the Metro Rail project.Envisaged by the traffic policemen in white and fluorescent overall-ed workers regulating the traffic with red flags, I am like the flock of sheep they push towards a certain direction every single day,to and fro the same route.

By now, after years of riding, I am more or less mechanical, with the music playing through my player and regular checks on the rear-view mirror, I am good to go at any point in time. But something struck me of late. I have been using this route for a long time before the construction process (with huge cranes) ever began and never noticed anything extraordinary. Just the same old schools and colleges in the locality, the buses and the ever impeding vehicular traffic. I guess that's the thing about two-ways. When you have the option to look and you don't? Or is it just that a whole lot of obstacles have been removed from the view for us to appreciate the possible beauty?


 I get a couple of seconds to admire the sky and the overall setting everyday while waiting for the traffic to move. Sometimes I wish it was more because everything looks so beautiful. The way the cranes' load stands in mid-air and the steel containers lie still- it's almost poetic, that I could keep staring at it for hours.  Sometimes, the sun is out in the open blinding me and at the other times, dark, rolling cottony-clouds set the perfect background for all the cranes and the tiny people in small helmets. A natural hierarchy exists there. Colourful hemets, little people, the containers, the cranes and the sky. What's more astonishing is the ability for the setting to change everyday yet appear similarly enthralling and beautiful. Some days, the crane is moving and some days its still, but for the sly wind to brush against it, different sky settings... but it's lovely, every single day. In the entire half hour ride back home, that's a scene I neither look forward to nor avoid, but enjoy just as it comes. In that singular couple of moments.

 I wonder if the junction is in new light or if I am perceiving it to be.Am I supplied with a new choice or have I trained myself to look around? Whatever it is, it is beautiful. Maybe, I could apply it to my life and move on as and when the signal turns green.

Do you have a similar story? Finding something utterly peaceful in the midst of chaos and loudness?
Please do share it with me here. I would love to know what I am missing out on. Cheers and much love! :)