Home

  How could I forget that night? It was exactly ten days since my grandfather had passed away. I was close to 1400KM away from home at Bombay, unable to sleep; merely staring at the wall a little before midnight. There was a sense of melancholy and wishful dreaming over my head. My teammates were fast asleep, heads buried in makeshift pillows. It was January; the floor was as cold as ice but yet, vaguely comforting.

  Silence screeched as the wall suddenly lit up to life, reflecting the warm hues of an oriflamme presence somewhere. The sound of the crackling rose up to the second floor apartment where we lay as the fog lifted, disintegrating into nothingness in the face of the bonfire built out of all which held people back.

   Bhoghi, the harvest festival, had dawned. It was midnight as heavy drumming began to sound, awakening the sleeping souls to stare out into the dark; where below, there lay a mound of light and lilt. Smiles cast invitations even when we couldn't see. We ran, our flip-flops slapping the bare mosaic flooring. The sound of the dholaks and laughter intensified with every step of ours, the excitement building. I rolled out only stopping to a reckless halt before the fire. The flames, a feet away leaped about, taller than I was, a fourteen year old girl in disarray. A Sardar, otherwise camouflaged by his beard and black turban smiled through it, holding out sweetmeats to me.The flames blazed higher, smoke spiraling into the vast sky charring the past and ready for the future.

    Slowly, the other state gymnasts descended the stairs and gathered around smiling, laughing and chattering away. Girls who would otherwise be dressed like dolls before the floor exercise performances began to dance in baggy pajamas and disheveled hair holding hands. My hands slowly slipped into theirs, strangers I didn't know in a place I wasn't really acquainted with. All I knew then was that the sound synced with my heartbeat and that the dance came from within.

It didn't matter that midnight in a strange place that I was holding hands and dancing with strangers. It didn't matter how close I was to the fire that night because I didn't feel any heat, only the warmth. It didn't matter that night that my grandfather was dead. I learned to laugh out loud again after a ten-day hiatus. It didn't matter that I was celebrating the festival away from home because, that moment in the dark when all our eyes met lingering with joy, shining in untamed light, I felt at home.  

Source: GOOGLE IMAGES. I do not own this image.  

~Hemu

Oh, Date The Girl Who Reads and Writes and Thinks and Dreams

|Way too much has been said about the girl who reads and the girl who writes, travels and takes pictures. Here I am offering you a package in a woman, many I know stuck in a bubble as huge as the solar system.. maybe much bigger.|

Date the girl who reads and writes and thinks and dreams for her worlds are interconnected. She flits between the real and the unreal, uses logical reasoning one moment and points her wand at your nose to turn  it into a great purple snout the next. She's the one who'll want long eventful screams on the roller coaster but also be the one who denies your bike ride when you forget your helmet back at home.

  Never mind with statistics about deaths by roller coasters and bikes or dancing on the road around her. She won't consider them most often. Chances are that you'll end up in an argument in which she'll win hands down unless of course; you are debating, for you'll be allowed to talk once in a while. (You'll maybe even learn the difference between the two)

Date the girl who reads and writes and thinks and dreams for she creates stories in her head picking up from her stories in life all real, trying to leave hints for the ones she wishes to see herself with and weaving it in magic and lyric; written with tears and some pretty good grammar. If you can't spot that, then maybe you are not the one. Then again, you'll know she'll think of ways to tell this to you. (which you in all probability will never understand) But oh, don't worry. These are the times her thinking blurs and imagination begins.

   Date the girl who reads and writes and thinks and dreams for she throws your life upside down. She'll want you as sexy as Rhett Butler but also as calm as Atticus Finch, goofy as Ron Weasley and seemingly obnoxious as Fitzwilliam Darcy. 'Perhaps you could learn something from Eeyore who builds his house everytime it's knocked down,' she'll tell you occasionally. You might not know these names or these people, you probably don't even know she called you a donkey towards the end. As opposed to most advice, do not hold her close when this happens and say that you understand when you don't. She'll find it out and yell out loud stating you are a dishonest asshole.

Date the girl who reads and writes and thinks and dreams because she is constantly scared and filled with ideas that could get you killed along with her. Her dreams are unclassified and chances are that you'll have to help her find the perfect spot for skydiving or hunt down at 30 stores before she finds 6 mismatched chairs and a table. You won't understand her wishlist for there is no coherence between successive bullets because she thinks one moment grounded in reality and then takes off to the sky and skydive from there, again. She'll want to buy the complete Calvin and Hobbes collection with her first salary when you'd think she'll donate it to charity and make you come with her in the pouring rain in search of a pitiful yelp at 1:00 AM in the morning when you really just want to sleep.

Date the girl who reads and writes and thinks and dreams for she'll make you think and dream before you speak if not write and read. She'll teach you the constellations and then connect the stars in her own way. You'll get a 'that's my niece, there's a dog and that cloud looks like Babloo, my first soft-toy-teddy'. (No, all of them don't look the same and she doesn't sleep cuddling a teddy bear either) She'll show you her diaries but you'll learn to never open it without her permission though it's probably filled with your name in every page. She's dumb at times. She might gift you a pink teddy bear key chain on your birthday and 'Donate your eyes' application form to her mother on her 45th birthday, but that's because she falls outside the rule book that tells people 'What to gift people on their birthdays'. Sometimes you'll have a star named after you and sometimes all you'll ever get is a bag of apples. Remember, that's because she hasn't still completely grasped the ideas of celebrating one's birthday.

Date the girl who reads and writes and thinks and dreams for she's filled with wanderlust and you'll be on your tiptoes all the time like the ballet dancer whose dance she takes you to see, spending all the money you have on the tickets that you have nothing left for dinner. But she'll make you good tea, the best for the ones who read know what support it. You've got to stand by though, never lie on the couch if you're hungry. You'll never get anything to eat if you dwindle around while she makes dinner. But wait, chances are that you're making it for she preferred attending sports lessons when a lot of her peers began to make the tastiest pasta ever. Good luck with that for she'll tell you that the salt is a pinch more than it should be unless you're exceptionally good.

Date the girl who reads and writes and thinks and dreams for she will go on whiskey drinking competitions and burp louder than you will for that's another feather on her cap already preening with many like karaoke nights and book readings at quaint little bookstores. She'll know people at every street she turns into and wishes she didn't for she loves new people and bumping into ventures round the corner. You will have a ball of a time for many people trust her unpredictability to be true and honest and you'll probably even get cookies for free. (that's a jackpot, isn't it?)

Date the girl who reads and writes and thinks and dreams for she a messy mix of what you might not like in a girl. Seeming obnoxiousness, a handful of ego, too many ideal prepositions and demanding stances, craziness hard to control and someone who'll never be subdued.She'll punch you in a fit of anger if I have understood her right. But she'll also pass on her infectious lifestyle of uncertainty and music, her varied concepts of love and your own space to do your own little crazy things, a dog, a cozy home you'll hardly be at owing to all the globe-trotting and perhaps 24 dogs to greet you at the door when come back home from work, together. Later, she'll dance in the rain with you and sing for the same.

Date the girl who reads and writes and thinks and dreams for she's the mess you want for the rest of your life. The perfect mess that will set the crooked painting on the wall straight.

SOURCE FOR IMAGES: GOOGLE- I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP OVER ANY OF THESE PICTURES.

Cheers!
Hemu

Croaking Under the Sun

I run around with this paper cup in hand,

handing out smiles in return for cynicism and more laughter. 

I am probably stupid

to bear the misery they have to offer 

Source: Google images 

weighing my pockets down

just so I can be myself,

but it seemed so much easier 

than lunging around much heavier masks 

of happiness and sorrow;

prim and proper. 

Of love and hate colliding 

against the face that perceives. 

So, I chucked them all 

as people taught me to build 

the same

with restraint and probable intelligence,

to immerse myself in blissful nonchalance. 

I won't drown. 

Agony vanishes in water

and nothing else keeps me down

as I fight heavy judgmental

currents 

telling my tale to the fish that leaps 

forth into the air so bereft while full of life 

for brief laps of time,

enjoying the edge but always back to safety,

unlike me.

I don't know how to swim yet.

But croak I shall if I must 

as I am,

but never cloak.*

*It doesn't apply when I am flying around saving people. Just saying. 

Wishlist to a thirty seconds memory!

When I was younger and even now, people told me, 'Wait till you see the real world'. I said I will. In images and sketches,my dream of the real life floated : designs of an exposed brick work house filled with framed pictures of my life, traveling toes, love, financial and personal success, a little studio and work that I love. It ran in my head that I'd earn all the cash I need to trot around the world and do all that I want to. To dote on designs by virtue of livelihood and live in writing as filled with heavy passion. To read all the beautiful books in the world, sometimes the bad ones- just to know the worth of the good ones, a cosy personal library.. Ah, dreams. Clouds dressed up as angels looming over our heads giving us hope and then filling us with the sweet sweat of the sky. So many things. Little little things.
   And I'm still dreaming of them all.
   It's fun to float in there.

~Hemu 

Speak up!

Meaningful conversations are few, intellectual discussions are rare and a lovely debate treating the other as an equal happens once in a blue moon. But what happens very easily, like snapping one's fingers arises counterattacks in an argument owing to reasons silly, stupid or even on a higher plane of thought.. but the approach just brings down the whole level of importance and pertinence of the subject as the topic finds it's way down into deep blue seas while we just end up with the skim of an oil layer on its surface- mucky, icky and annoying.

   I am a person who enjoys everything of the above to a good deal. Invariably conversations, discussions and debates arise only in a circle of close friends whose thoughts and ideas vary from mine, but knowing our base and the underlining factor is the same. Sometimes, it so happens that conversations and discussions with many others that I might initiate leads to arguments, which might not be as healthy as the above.

     Having an inclination towards the notion of women to be treated for who they are, varied views on religion and spirituality and the ever living subject of love, sex and life as such,  I always land up in discussions-turned-arguments. Though I may not enjoy the rather diversified opinions of chauvinism or practices that don't have any relevance to the current world, I must say I thoroughly enjoy and have fun talking about it with logic, rationality and some emotion. But, what saddens me nowadays is the unwillingness of people to ever sort out differences or atleast talk about the different views without involving oneself's emotions riding an upper hand.

   Frankly, I guess I was on that side.. I used to let my emotions, rage and anger fall through with the words that I say. I have even felt like slapping a few in my hotheadedness. But looking back at it all, I feel silly to have done it. I realize it's of no use getting agitated in a debate as it doesn't put one's point across while rational, logical points do. Neither am I going to say that I don't involve my emotions in any sort of such scenarios. But to know and realize that the whole exchange is fun-filled, an opportunity to learn and converse, to know that that very essence has been lost in a whole crowd nowadays is sad.

 As I did mention earlier, many discussions have been turned into arguments nowadays. To know that people you love might have a wrong notion about something (Well, so may I. But that is what a conversation is all about, isn't it?)
and it might directly come in the way of your life or of someone else's whom you care about, is not a great feeling. It is not an interference but a mutual togetherness towards betterment and understanding.

   What I do want to tell people is to just stand up and talk and not discontinue when a small spark of conflict arises. Friends bond after fights, families hold a difference in opinion always, relationships' parties have a necessity to know the others' mind and for the last cheap happiness of having gotten a message across to a total stranger are all tiny little facts whose personal stories run across the skies. Everyday I see more and people moving away from talking about or indulging in healthy arguments about the issues that don't go along with them.

  What is there to fear? Why is it so difficult to say what one has on one's mind? From many personal experiences, I have noticed people getting away from an argument or a debatable topic. There are times when you need to preserve another's ego and moments when you have to shatter it for the good of both parties involved. And it so happens that some of them even perceive and think I might want to start a fight if I put a point across firmly.. Why have we reached a state where a healthy conversation turns into an unhealthy phenomenon, where cartoons are beginning to lose their very essence called humour in the eyes of many with the happy and full-bodied life going in for a toss.

   I am not asking you to initiate fights but spark off conversations. Let's all try to open up our minds and pour out our conventions and ideas.. to plunge into great talk and not always small ones.. to discuss what bothers oneself and find solutions.. to lead a new revolution, to learn to speak our minds and argue like crazy animals in a fight yet developing a maturity to drop it when need be and to have dinner or tea together. For only he is a truly evolved human being who can respect another persons' opinion while retaining his own and debating or discussing it about it for the greater good.
 I think we should all stop fighting cold wars, drop our inhibitions and talk without fear. So, yeah, Speak up, mate! :)

P.S : I must warn you that indulging in a discussion or debate without an open mind is of no use and you might as well stay away from one if you have no intentions of finding out the truth.

Images from the internet 

Little acts of love

My hand in yours as we walk across a beach's stretch,

basking in the glory of the full moon's rays,

A little look into my eyes.. and a small tilt in your face, 

A moment shared, a happiness so known,I shall see it along the bays...

A day off from our works and fatigue, 

to stand next to the stove, an island of vegetables and wine,

A kiss with the machete cutting away the intrigue

A dinner table for two shared, as we dine.. 

To a gathering as we leave, 

I'd love to stand in front of the mirror as you lean,

To look into the man and woman that we see

in an embrace and a smile of a thousand stars gleaming with love...

A night away into darkness as I sleep,

and to wake up, to find you staring at me,

In full knowledge of the hours that passed

I know that my day is made, by the eyes of yours that I see...

In a festive swing, as we do meet,

People of all classes, yours and mine

to say with pride, that I'm your wife,

To hold my hands and make me dance...

As you fall sick and I do tend,

cancelling every other event, for you look blue

yet when you lie down there, with weary eyes : that do send,

glances of love and a strong,silent thank you..

A tired day followed by an evening nap,

to wake up in the blankets of the night and the door locked tight,

To see a light at the edge of the bed,

You, standing there, as you do give me, from the cake,a bite..

To see you gleam in that candlelight,

with the soft breeze kissing your cheek.,

you look at me as my birthday starts

to endless infinity, a journey, our life so shared..

For you to know that it aches me as I walk

and to press my feet after a dance,

To look at you as I own you as just mine,

And knowing you love sleeping on me, by every single chance...

As a day that leads to the birth of a new one,

To see your eyes water in pain to look at my strain

to wake up from slumber, to see you looking at my face, you own

now you say, A beautiful wife and a pink little gain... 

To  remove framed photographs from a carton packed

to fight over which goes where and later lighter moments we do share,

In reverse, a few steps back. together, in constant rhythm,

our hands over each others shoulders, to glance at an ordered wall...

To hug me in front of my kids and say that you love me more

to help me with my chores and take me out for vacations I love

to travel in a steam locomotive train as it puffs smoke so grey 

Like the colour of our hair, we've grown old, lets say...

Love is here, in these little things so cute

for a kiss on a wedding and a hug so special,

Me in a gown and you in a suit..

It just feels like love out of the notes of a flute...

Hemu