My Last Christmas!

The night was cool

and calm and quiet,

and then i saw it-

A dazzling sight!

Was it Him

Among the lots?

For I don’t believe,

In religious knots.

I shook my head

And quietly said

That it was a dream,

And nothing to scream

But I saw him again

Amongst the rain

With open arms,

Calling my name

Then I went close

To that image

And that moment he chose

To lessen my rage.

“My child”, He said

With a smiling face
“I know you had troubles,

For you chase,

Everything that a person

Has never achieved,

Without paying,

For something received

My child, I know

That you are angry

For I didn’t help you

Throughout your misery.

But always remember

It will be there

At adverse conditions

When you have nowhere"

And so He vanished

And I  understood

That I love Him so much

As much no one would

This was my Christmas

Before I departed

My Christmas,

My Last Christmas!

LOUD WORDS...

          The leaves were swaying in the wind. The birds resting on the branch just flee off. The sight looked so very beautiful through the window of the auditorium I was seated in. I snapped back from my ‘nature lover’ trance when I heard the loud words ‘ FIGHTING CORRUPTION’. These wise words were coming from the speaker, whom I had conveniently tuned out for the last couple of hours.

          This renowned speaker had come to preach the newly discovered virtue of ‘Anti-Corruption’ to the young generation. He was seated on the stage along with two of his associates. One of the associates was done with his share of preaching. Another associate walked on to the podium with absolute confidence and flawless style. He started his speech by the golden words ‘corruption is like cancer....’ and went on with it. According to him corruption should be eradicated right from its roots. He put forth the idea that we should not bribe the traffic police if we are caught breaking the traffic rules. Instead we should pay the fine and ask for the receipt.

          I was absolutely impressed by this person and all his views of stopping corruption and bribery and creating a better and peaceful society to live in. I wanted to be a part of this noble movement. So, highly motivated, I went backstage after the session with the intention of joining his corruption fighting organisation. When I went there he was speaking to the other associate inside a closed classroom. I was about to knock but as you know curiosity is just not limited to cats. I decided to eavesdrop and I heard him saying, “The parking space here was so crammed with cars that the watchman refused to let me take my car in. I had to slip him twenty bucks in order to get a parking spot…..”      

SLEEPING LOCAL…

         

           Going back home in a local train is fun. You get to observe different kinds of people…good, bad and some ugly ones. The evening hours are what the railway authorities call, “the peak hours”  in other words what they mean is “its not our fault if you find the trains over crowded. Blame population growth”

            During these hours the train resembles a huge popcorn tub, which we get in multiplexes, with popcorns overflowing the tub. But the tub is still a peaceful place in comparison to trains. Atleast you don’t have to worry about the popcorns fighting with each other inside the tub. Contrary to this, the train compartments witness a lot of fist fights during these hours, the characters in the ring are the people who don’t get a seat to sit through the journey.

            The people who are fortunate enough to get a seat are indifferent towards this fight, mostly because they are busy sleeping. Their eyes flicker open for a moment when someone yells out loud but then they go back into their slumber.  They start leaning onto the person sitting next to them when they are in deep dreamy sleep and wake up for a while when that person’s body moves a little. It requires a lot of courage to wake these people up because then they would scream like a banshee until you actually go deaf.  Lot of sensible people avoid these “peak hours” if they want to survive their travel in the local trains.

            And yet here I am, in the first class ladies compartment of a local train, witnessing a fist fight, sitting in between two sleeping beauties and procuring a sadistic pleasure by moving my body away from them whenever they lean on me in their deep dreamy sleep….

Three steps too far…

        Another morning…every thing started as it usually does. I messed up my bedroom as usual, left my breakfast leftovers on the dining table, messed up the living room while I searched for my books and left my place in a hurry stuffing the books into my bag and waving good bye to my mother. I half ran to the railway station and stood waiting on the platform, the daily ritual. The trains were running late again, nothing new about it. I checked the time for the hundredth time and then frowned at the railway indicator. My eyes slid down from the indicator and I saw him standing there, just three steps away, my once best friend.

 He looked up and our eyes met. I saw different emotions running on his face and then it turned cold, frozen, as if carved out of ice. I tried to read those emotions, what was it?....pain? sorrow? love? hate? I couldn’t read them.

            Sometimes our mind turns numb in certain situations. You want to walk but you can’t feel your legs, you want to talk but you are  tongue-tied. I was momentarily paralysed top to bottom. I couldn’t think of what to do or what to say. My brain started flashing images of the past, of us together, as if I wasn’t in an awful condition already. Neither of us looked away. What was he recalling? The first date? The spilt coffee? The unattended lectures? The weird fashion? The forgiven mistakes? The stupid jokes?  The baseless arguments? The half drunk wine? Or the lost time?

 I could have walked three steps to him, I could have said ‘I’m sorry’. But I didn’t. We just stared at each other, as two strangers. The train was announced. It was going to arrive. I had to act quickly. I don’t know if I will see him again. Some one between us started the radio. The song playing was ‘girls just wanna have fun’. I saw a flicker of recognition in his eyes. Wasn’t this the same song he made me sing in the karaoke? Yes, he remembered, just like I did.

Memories are stored in our mind like pages of a diary, and sometimes certain songs, situations, smell, touch acts like tags. You hear a song and suddenly you remember some past memory attached to that song. This memory then pokes another emotion attached to the memory itself and before you know it,  you are smack in the middle of a pathetic puddle of emotions and memories and more emotions.

 I was just trying to scramble out of this puddle and at that very moment the train arrived. Even then I couldn’t cross the three steps towards him or wave goodbye. I got into the train.  The radio guy flicked the radio channel and the song changed to “Ye dooriyan…..”. Wait… till I spot this guy and kill his radio….slowly and painfully….

The Sketch...

The canvas was blank 

And my thoughts sank

Into the only picture in my mind

The face, one of a kind.

I pictured his face 

And began to trace  

Those black eyes intense

Showing love immense.

I recalled the scene

Actioned when i was eighteen

When those three words escaped

From his lips well shaped.

Ah! those lips...

When it moves, my heart it rips.

Yes, I’ll draw them,

As they are as precious as a gem

I’ll draw them in such a pose

So that to mine they are close

I’ll use kohl so fine

To draw him close and make him mine.

When I finished,

I stood back and relished,

The sketch of me and him,

Together in light so dim.

Then I felt his hand

On my shoulder and time slipped like sand….

And then I knew,

The sketch had come true

When we stood in the same pose

Close…….so very close……

Grown Ups!

I drew up a paper and sketched a car,

And told them that it will take us to a star,

But they didn’t understand.

I showed them a rose with beautiful folds,

And asked them to see the pleasure it holds,

But they didn’t understand.

I told them that it gives so much happiness even in pain,

To smell the fragrance of the earth during the first rain,

But they didn’t understand.

I showed them paintings of countryside,

And pointed out the secrets they hide,

But they didn’t understand.

And then I gave up,

And then I grew up,

And then I wept,

Away in the night,

And then I cried,

Over the lost innocence,

And I mourned,

Through the darkness.

For

The grown ups didn’t understand,

The pleasure in simple things on this land.

FRIEND INDEED

There are people and people and people around me

But still I feel oh so lonely

Without the person so close to my heart

My friend my lovely friend from the start

Before departing we met on this wet monsoon day

Both of us had nothing to say

But we dint need words in stock

For the tears in our eyes did the talk

We revised all the days we spent

Together playing doll house inside the tent

And the memories of us nineteen

Bunking our lectures and singing in the canteen

No I shall not leave without my friend

With whom I promised to stay till the end

The friend who fulfilled my friendship need

My dear friend, my friend indeed.