Happy Valentine’s Day

Here it is once again. Is it because of the air or  if it is something about the month that makes boys and girls go head over heels during the month of Feb. And as always being single adds to the despondency. When you go to the market and you see little red heart shaped the “heart” hung around the shops and people buying it, what you do yes you just smirk and your mind says “yes, God saved me some bucks” and in my case God has been saving my bucks since what like college, that’s when you know the month love is here with open arms.

So what makes the month of Feb that entire special after all don’t lovers go around hand in hand the whole year. It’s not like they will only bother you with their public display of affection  and that’s the full form of PDA if , if you are wondering the first time I heard greeting-valentine-s-day-card-tree-hearts-kids-kissi-kissing-49704172that term I thought of it as some kind of mobile device that you can take with and roam around with, only during a designated time of the year. This is a month when you already know that for these 28 days or 29(god forbid if it’s a leap year) you will have to tell yourself and say “Deal with it its Feb after all” and the other months you still can’t run away from it.

Mind you loving is not everyone’s cup of tea. Arreee it requires a lot of hard work. Waking up the so called “baby” from bed  that is 10 bucks wasted because a well-loved baby does not get up so easily mind you that baby requires a lot of  “love yous ” and “there for yous”. After dressing up for the office it’s now baby’s turn to call you to say “love yous and love you toos”, that’s another 10 minutes wasted. Once you reach the office and begin the tasks you get so much engrossed that you forget that its lunch hour and your baby does not eat lunch without you and you rush towards the canteen just so late that  it’s time for the baby to go and apparently she always has a busy day and yet she finds time for you. On enquiring and much pursuing it is revealed the baby was waiting for you for so long when instead what she could have done was go out with her friends, not a bad idea is what you think but what you actually say is “oooo baby sorry let me make you eat with my own hands”.  What is a lunch without a walk because lunch is not just lunch idiot it is a way to spend time with loved ones as they say. So after spending a whole 1 hour at lunch you come back to your desk only to find a message on your phone from the baby informing that you forgot to say the parting words that you always used to say and you actually wonder what is the thing you have been doing since long is “wiping your ass”. Anyhow you continue your work till the next time you look at the clock and its evening and you need to go. You have to surprise the loved one after all you know the monster “Feb” is coming. To make things worse they have these designated days teddy, chocolate, hug, propose, and kiss and Valentine’s Day and the poor guy after all the hard work thinks why did they stop at Valentine ’s Day. They should have topped it up with a make-out day.

So you see if you are a lover feel good because you have been doing a job no not just a job but two full-time jobs. And if you are not a lover cheer up and feel good because you saved yourself your hard earned bucks. And to that I wake up from this wild dream and say fuck that “I am a whole lot richer, i am gonna drink to that”. Now that I must say is a “Happy Valentine’s day” boys.
Valentines-Day-Funny-Jokes-4

This Independence Day let it be free

3Coulors_Bird

In the realms of my hands cuddling as if its world is comprised of just the area within the cup of my hand. I came to me on a one fine morning when I was a kid, starting an unknown journey that I don’t know what would have been if not without it. After all I can’t find one instance when it was not there with me if not physically then in my thoughts. It was not long before the days passed when we were always together no matter what the weather or the place, it always came to me. The window sill where she sat while I crammed for my History exams or the treetop in the prayer grounds where it sat smiling while I collected awards and used to see it from the stage wondering would I have the same smile if it won’t be there clapping or those times when I just used to smile just at the sight of it in the morning while I waited for my school bus

I stroke its weathers gently  trying to count them as the time passes softly before she flies away to a strange little bird world. After all life is transient and no matter how much we try we have to let go of the best of things and on the other hand no matter how much we try their memories continue to make us smile halfheartedly, longingly wishing how would it have been if only it had stayed.

The rays of the sun are piercing the body now as if trying to melt the outer core and exposing the innards, the innards that have been covered by multiple layers of happiness sorrow and the toughest of them all resolution. She looks towards me with gleaming eyes, bubbling with energy and raring to go. After all new place, life and people await her. I thought only humans feel elated at the  prospects of new but here it was feeling excited about leaving the past and embracing something new. I look back at my past and see that I too have run away from people and situations but the fact was in the hindsight I knew she would be there overlooking me from somewhere behind the clouds above.

It flew spanning its small wings high in the sky circling above me getting ready for a long flight that will take it towards mountains that will be hard to scale, that will offer various hurdles and test its limits. I am skeptical about the future but my concerns wither away when I see its determination and enthusiasm.

So I smile one more time before saying adios to the bird who had been second to none and who I don’t want it to turn back to say final wishes because breaking the chains of past and unleashing the ropes of future  is what helps in the journey of life.

This independence I let it fly to somewhere………far.

A City of dreams through the gates of sleep

2c8e64d

Shortly after you get down from the train of everyday life at the station of dreams you take a cab and  drive straight through the bustling town of dreams you would see a valley of flowers that is as mesmerizing and beautiful as the face of the first love. After a 20 kms drive not far from the forests of everyday life is a town called tomorrowland”.

No readers this is no alien town, it is a town similar to Delhi, New York or Paris but without a sense of reality. In this town after you get inside the gates of “sleep “you see the people living here. They  talk just like us and go to their offices everyday just like us. Here they live inside houses that are called “goals“, which are made not of bricks or woods but by their hard-work, the hard work that they do each and every single day in their big offices that lie just outside the realms of this city.

Like us mortals these people also have vehicles but here they don’t drive any Hondas, Hyundais or Marutis.  They drive in their aspirations. Well actually the size of  the vehicle  defines its kind here vehicle of small size are called “ambitions”, the medium ones are called “dreams” and the abysmally larger ones are called “fantasies” and if  you dare to think of a bigger images (1)vehicle than the fantasy you have the ultimate beauty called “greed” . The intriguing thing about greed is that although everyone big or small in status thinks or wants to own it actually nobody does or can. So to satisfy themselves they try to go in for multiple vehicles and take pride in themselves and for that they work night and day to earn more, after all greed is costly even in a fictional world. So ultimately they slog at work so much that they forget the way to the town which goes through the gates of “sleep”.

But hey I forgot to mention about the people with no cars, actually they are an endangered breed not worth mentioning about. They talk of something called “contentment” and “higher self”, idiots somebody tell them that the status and position in the society is ultimately defined by the number of cars driven and plots purchased. So let’s not talk about these laughing stocks of the town the contented ones. Let’s content them with just one word that defines them best “losers”.

Coming back to our dreamy and fantasy world once again, I see a solid structure here where everyone sits in silence and bows their head. Some bow in front of a cloth covered coffin, some sit fanning a book and some stand with folded hands in front of the idols. I notice that these idols are crafted with perfection these are so perfect that you barely can tell the imagesdifference a male idol and a female idol. So whether a book, idol, a coffin or in some cases just a mathematical sign of addition these are all housed inside a structure called “hope”. Everyone whether big or small, irritated or contented comes here to satiate their hope. A hope to have a better tomorrow, this is the only thing that is shared by everyone. It gives them reasons to wake up and get on with the day.

Here the town has three seasons in a year. The difference is that these seasons are personal to each citizen. The first is the season of loss, and then comes hard work and ultimately success. These seasons repeat every year for each and every person and the longevity of each season also varies from person to person. Everyone can’t be successful always after all.

In midst of all this these, people miss out on small things that result in happiness. No matter how much they try to make it big or try to reach the place between the stars as they call it, the happiness is elusive to them as it was yesterday. Some are happy in chunks and some in pieces. So there is this new trader who has his shop set up just outside the city of dreams on the outskirts of the city of reality. This trader swaps the dreams, aspirations and fantasies of the citizens for smiles. So everyone who comes to this trader leaves with a smile. The trader, yes you guessed it right is the man whom everyone respects he is called the “money- man”. People trade their bad memories from the past and leave with a smile. If you thought everyone leaves behind their bad memories and goes with a smile you are wrong because it is tough to leave our past behind, isn’t it. Everyone likes dwelling and remembering there past particularly the bad memories. We feel a bitter pain that accompanies this reminiscence followed by the self pity and ultimately that half hearted smile accompanied by shaking the head from side to side  that acts as the ultimate pill and brings us a flood of tears that swell in the eyes. But some people like to be happy and tend to leave their bad memories with the trader, after all past is past and whether bitter or sweet it is gone.sunrise multicolor station railway 2592x1462 wallpaper_www.knowledgehi.com_93

The next time you happen to go to this part of the world just remember to pay a visit to this town that lies just outside the kingdom of realty and the road to which passes through the gates of sleep.

Part4: The Contrast

If you have not read the previous part of this series then I would suggest to click the following link and read:

https://rishabhagnihotri01.wordpress.com/2015/06/13/part-3-the-hope/

But if you are just like me and dont giv a fuck, well then go on 🙂

Rita lay on the gazing at the clouds in the sky, peculiar things that seemed to take a different shape each and everytime she tried to look at them . The sound of the waves hitting the shore is profound as if the vociferous sea would cut into the land and proclaim its farfetched triumph. Ram sat looking into the distance.

Rita shook his shoulder and broke his chain of thoughts.

“Tomorrow is the last day of my college”.

“Ïf anything flies, its time and it seemed to fly at a great pace” Ram thought to himself and nodded his head.

“For a farewell we are going to meet at zodiacs for a treat, get-together sort of no big deal”said Rita.

“So now, bidding goodbyes is celebrated in coffee shops, the idea seems ill conceived and preposterous to me ” Ram smirked and threw a pebble into the sea which made three bounces,

“hmm not bad ” said Rita as she got up and sat beside him. She picked a pebble and  tried to repeat the same feat, failing once again.

Maybe you should come with me and should see how preposterous it is, really now should I call you an antisocial worm but that is a little too rational for you. Maybe one of these days I can see you do a single thing differently than how do you do it every day” she said and raised her hand as she elaborated her point.

Hmm”, Ram sighed as he saw the sun going down and the same route and exactly the same way as it does everyday how can I get bored when all that he does every day is rise in the morning and set in the evening.

The regularity and the fixed pattern that governed his whole life now was a concern for his sister. The daily work and then evenings at the beach were the elements that pretty much constituted the major part of his moribund life.

The clocks have turned and it seemed to have shaped up the personalities of both the siblings quite well. To put in one line

“For him a good day is the one that started well, on the other hand for Riya a good day was the one that ended well.”

But that was 5 years back and they were still together in parts for each  other and in parts because of each other……

Part3: The Hope

If you have not read the previous part of this series then I would suggest to click the following link and read:

https://rishabhagnihotri01.wordpress.com/2015/06/02/part2-the-winner/

But if you are just like me and dont giv a fuck, well then go on 🙂

They ran with all their might. Initially the power, pace and the will is comparable.The tenacity of droplets rushing down the sides of the cold glass withers  as the distance increases. The trail left behind the drops contains just too much water to make the flow lose its pace. Her legs begin to ache after a few well run meters and the beads of perspiration clog her vision. The destination blurs and she opens her mouth to take in a gush of air that is a last ditch attempt to gather some momentum hoping to last for just a few more miles. He is amazed at this sudden determination shown by his competitor. He has been winning these races since as far his memory goes. Right when they used to run for the chocolate offered as a bait by the father. Today neither the father nor the chocolate remains but for him winning is his legacy. Something he offers as a tribute to his father. Prospects of losing today to his sister are profound and if it is true he will not entirely be sad. At last after a few attempts at trying to make it to the finish line she gives up and she stops. Bended and holding her knees she gasps and looks at her brother who will hit the sea any time from now. The brother who will win one more time and the brother who will be the receiver of one more chocolate and ultimately the brother who will be celebrated by her father.  She raises her head towards the heavens and looks with longing eyes which say “Not even once God!”. She cries and calls him from behind. “You always start ahead. This is not fair”, she says in exasperation. “If you don’t stop I will, go back to home”, saying this she sits on the sand and looks at his reaction. She reprimands herself for being such a whiner. If As he losses the sound of footsteps behind him he knows he is going to win. Winning one more of these races is not such a big feat for him than the legacy which he revers. He hears faint cries of his sister. The prospects of spending a lonely evening by the sea was an idea enough to scare him and lose his sight of the finish line so he turns and looks at the figure sitting on the sand with her head in her palms. He sees the exasperation and the dejection in her eyes. For him, winning was no more an act of defeating your competitors anymore and if that competitor happens to be his sister than it is all the more irrelevant. The idea of having his sister win races of life was not too far- fetched. He stops and retreats. After all  the last words that his mother said to him were “Whatever happens, You don’t give up on your sister”. So he returns to his sister with the determination to make her win races and competitions, to keep all the little that is left at stake. He sits beside her and looks in her eyes moist eyes. He wipes  the small tear on her cheek and says “You know tears are special”. “Hah funny, now you will philosophize the tears too”, She smirks as she knows what is coming is one more of her brother’s weird analogies. “Yes after all that’s what I do best”, says he haughtily. “Yeah go on come out with it. The analogy”, said she appearing to be disinterested yet lending an ear. “They are special because they always create their own path”, he said “Now don’t start with the be a self-made person shit, I have heard it many times” “No there is more, the peculiar thing is that those paths or trails dry or are wiped off so that no more tears can follow suit.  The bottom-line is more tears new paths. So what I want you to do is create new paths and wipe away those trails”, he said and he knew he was bang on the point. “That was new. Lets see how many tears can create new paths now”, said she. They both laughed at the moral that seemed too simple and well cheeky but they both understood the meaning clearly. They sat there for sometime chatting and looking at the setting sun. But that was 10 years back when “hoping for the best “was just what they clinged on to…..

Part2: The Winner

If you have not read the previous part of this series then I would suggest to click the following link and read:

https://rishabhagnihotri01.wordpress.com/2015/05/25/part1-the-innocence/

But if you are just like me and dont giv a fuck, well then go on 🙂

“Let’s race and see who touches the water first”, said Ram as he turned back to look at her.

“No” she screamed “You started first” and then stopped running. He still ran with all his might hoping and now determined to win the race.  He felt jovial and was full with the anticipation of the win that was about to come his way. He was closing in on the beach, at his destination. He looked back one more time only to make sure that the distance was enough between him and the little sister who was now sitting on the sand with her head in her hands and legs folded upto the chin. The waves of the success are too strong to be stopped by the tiny pebbles of tears. The rush of achievement can even break the chains of resilience. Winners are seldom dithered by the dejection of the losers.

He looked ahead once again and raced as has as he could until the blue water touched his feet and a gust of wind felt through his hair. He spread his hands to acknowledge the wind and screamed at it to come fast because success apparently is an incomplete feeling. It gives happiness only when someone appreciates or “If someone loses”.

But that was 15 years back and winning was his motive, the sole motive…

Part1: The Innocence

“Who wants to go for a swim”, said Father.

“I will”, said the boy already down to his blue beach undies.

“But don’t go too far into the sea”, remarked mom passing an order in the guise of a suggestion.

“Yes Mother”, echoed both father and son and ran towards the sea that seemed to welcome them with open arms. The blue waters shone like pearl in the late afternoon sunlight. Somewhere a ship sounded an alarm signifying the return of the fishermen with their catch for the day. Mother spread a bedsheet on the sand and after putting all the eatables on one side she looked at the two enjoying in the sea, she wanted to capture this moment in her eyes, this was priceless, this was uncorrupted. Her daughter sat beside her on the sand in her little frock making castles in the sand. She was quiet as the sea and thoughtful as a mountain. She would do something good thought her mother. With these thoughts in mind she lay down and looked at the cloudy sky. The weather  made her hum a soft tune “If I had a choice, I would”, beautiful lines that defined this moment. She did not know when she slept and by the time she woke up the father son duo was back from the sea. They both were drenched with water and were hungry. But before food she gave them a towel and fresh clothes to put on. Ram sat behind his sister Rita who was looking at the sea, expressionless. Seeing this, father gave them a plastic black ball to play with. Rita took the ball and threw it with all her might towards the sea. The ball fell into the water and danced on the waves as if it was shaking a leg to the melodious song sung by the white foamy waves. They went and picked up the ball. They took turns to throw the ball into the sea as far as they could. Rita laughed everytime the ball danced on the waves before hitting the shore. The entire process of the ball fighting against the waves and ultimately giving up and hitting the shore was enough to make her giggle. Her brother was the storehouse of energy for her the ultimate winner and protector. To see him struggling to throw the ball against the strong winds was surprising and a source of amazement for her. No matter how high or how far he threw the ball always returned back to the shore.

“Bhaiya, Will it always return back to us , no matter how far we throw?” She asks.

“Maybe Rita , it looks like yes”, and shrugged at the silly question.

They went back to their mother who was calling them to eat something. After a fun day at the beach the family retreated back to their abode. Father holding the girl on his shoulders and the mother holding onto the son. The sun was packing to leave the horizon and the waves were dancing to welcome the night.

But that was 20 years back and life had not thrown much at them…….

Elusion

feather

Swiftly and slowly it comes down from the skies, trying to figure out a way to its destination. Weird it is how we always try to go to the top whereas it is determined to touch the ground. It tries to sway a little as if buying time before reaching the destination It reminds me of something that still eludes me. Something that every now and then approaches me in disguise and before I could hold it, have it and feel it, it vanishes as the early morning purple that precedes the yellow that sets in welcoming the golden sun.

It is frail and short and guided by wind. I see it struggling against the breeze so I put out my hand to hold it with an intention to protect it and care for it just then it glides sways the other way and escape my hold. I close my fist thinking I have caught it. But as always it deceives my anticipation and expectations. I eye it closely this time determined to hold it with an act that is more out of fear of failure than the protective instinct. This time the touch is soft and velvet I smile knowing I have caught it. With a feeling of win I open my fist to see and look at my achievement.

I find it crumpled under the confines of my fist. It now looked fragile and afraid. It is white and gets darker near the core as if hiding things in its heart. Maybe the secret of longing eyes and secretive smiles that it encounters in its journey is held in its core. On viewing it more closely I find it comes from a far off place and from an unknown bird that I did not know of before, the guilt sets in.

The breeze grows stronger with each passing second. It begins to flutter on my palm as if trying to take a flight and making one more of those umpteen attempts to travel far and wide before touching its Ithaca, the ground.

I resent ultimately understanding that it is never mine. Its beauty is coupled with the air it flies in, the terraces it land upon and the million palms that try to hold it. I smile at my fate. I open my palm more and more and more until the fingers straighten, to help it take off. It takes off with the help of the wind and goes far and goes wide as if smiling at deceiving me once again. I eye it as far as I can until it goes beyond my reach. I know one day at some point of life when I am sitting at the terrace brooding over the present and future it will come and sit in my lap reminding of something from the past but this time I will not hold but let it fly, maybe I will help it fly.

1.0 Rocks And Waves

A few days back someone who holds just as much importance in my life as before and with whom I had no contact for quite sometime now  accussed me of being partial to “men” and “boys”. That someone read all my blogs and found my stories soft on male. She texted me “Is it your sordid past you write about mister or are you really that selfish, if it is so stop accussing and prophesizing your sorrows. I wonder if you would ever tell the other side of the story”. So here it is, first time I am trying to write a story with a women’s point of view. I Hope it does justice to her thoughts:

The story begins:

rocks and waves 2

She walks back towards her house in the uptown area of New York. The weather is good and summer is what every New Yorker looks forward to after a harsh winter. She decides to walk towards her house which is 6 blocks down from the next right from the upcoming signal. The gentle breeze blowing across her face forming swirls on her perfectly ironed skirt as if caressing it with a gentle pace that is not too fast and not very slow either, just perfect so as not to destroy the pleats formed on the front clothe. The momentary pleasures tend to wither away as soon as they are formed like a lover’s touch or the early morning glow of the rising sun, which leave you longing for more. Today she was in no mood to go home early. There is nothing expecting her at home at this hour anyway the kids won’t be back from the evening tuitions until an hour and Ric had already called that he would turn up late. So she decides to make the most of this opportunity today which is hard to come by her. She used to be a regular visitor to the beaches during her post graduation years at the NYU until her kids and husband took the better of her.
The gentle wind was threatening to gather some speed, with the met department already sounding an alarm of an approaching storm she knew the timing cannot be perfect. Coincidentally she found her legs turning towards the left instead of taking the right which was her usual way to home. A force pushed her towards the direction that she had stopped taking since that fateful day 16 years back. She knew she had to turn back from here, the way to her home was not so sandy, it was hard. It can’t be so irregular after all New York doesn’t have space for irregularities, here people and things are alike, perfect. She wouldn’t have been where she was if it was for the irregular. But today it was different, she thought. She stopped thinking right there “let me see where this force takes me“, as someone from her distant past echoed “you need to go with the force , at least sometimes, you always try to be so very hard“. Maybe she was hard but hardness was the weapon of a woman, a woman can’t succeed if she is not hard because this is the only attribute that God did not bestow a woman with, He made her soft and supple so that she could be caring and loving. “She” made herself as hard as a rock and pointed at the edges so as to succeed and make her mark. In her mind she knew she had succeeded after all her life here at New York was a testament to that, but what about her heart, well she never cared about what her heart felt as long as the mind had a control over it. She kept walking until the sounds of the violent waves hitting the shoreline rang in her ears. She found herself standing at the perfect spot, for others it was a rough weather but for her it was a perfect time to visit her favourite pastime of those childhood days of her life in Cochin, India.
She stared at the vast expanse of the raging Atlantic that was hitting the rocks with all its might. She stood at the little opening of rocks inside the ocean just when a shower of sea water hit her face thus enabling her escape the thoughts that were beginning to overpower her and snatched her from the past, the past that was grim, a past that was not so distant as the date suggests it to be. She lies down on the rocks and looks above towards the sky. The night was falling on her in the form of little coloured openings from the sky . Even the sky has openings that are only visible at night, she thought. The sun had set down and it appeared as if the orange was the new black. A little strand of hair was hindering her vision of stars and the. She does away with the involuntary thought of removing it and kept her gaze at the place beyond the dark among the stars and the memories of her sordid past begin encompassing her her vision , her mind …………to be continued

Pole Star

polaris

Last time I had a dream of doing something, achieving something and giving my everything for something was about four years back. When expectations were sky high and the only thing I cared about was making a big 1000 letter name for me to showcase the world. Life takes turns and sometimes turns the world upside down and I found myself finishing the task at hand with no aspirations or hope of future prospects for me personal or career wise. That is life and you live it whether stoically or passionately, it’s your choice. I preferred the former way of life.

I am of the view that each one of us has a pole star in life that we continue to follow each and every moment. That pole star sometimes hidden from us but always comes out of the clouds and again shines like a bright dot. In my case it took four years. But four years is not that long when you consider it in light years. And suddenly out of the blue I got a meaning to move forward. To see the bright future for those  who are meant to be languishing in darkness due to their fate while we the more privileged ones talk here about our lost chances and lost fucking meanings.

So with this view in mind and to find the answers to some specific questions that have been plaguing me I plan to embark on a journey that would take me on a new path completely away from my career and whatever I have done until now. I don’t care for myself because fending for me is the last relevant question that I have in my mind. But the questions that I need the answers to are what about my parents. Till now when I looked into their eyes it was filled with hope. A hope and content to give me a thriving and a comfortable future. But now when I look into them I find desperate attempts to stop me from this self-destroying feat that I suddenly feel a liking for. It’s  a risk and the last call would be mine because this time father won’t be there to clean up my mess.

So I am stuck with options on one side of the road I have a life that guarantees me a  certain minimum standard of life and on the other hand a life that takes away everything from me at one shot and gives me a chance to begin afresh. On one side people have suggestions to all the problems on the other side I have the opportunity to find the answers myself. On one side I will have a future on the other hand each and every child will have a future. But I know whatever I choose I will always have my pole star to guide me and a road to walk upon but what means will I have to travel on it will be defined by the side I take.

Sometimes options are tough to choose from.

%d bloggers like this: