Time To Say It..

I’ve been thinking on and on

Days shall pass and you’ll be gone

On threshold I shall stand

And all I’ll do is wave my hand.

I’ll stand and wonder why

The happy times have so fast passed by

I can’t believe you’d be going away

Far from me, so far away

When you’ll be going, just look at me

I’ll smile and time will cease.

There will be so many goodbyes

It’ll be hard not to cry.

The feeling of having you near

Will be rubbed by the goodbye I’ll have to hear

Now that it’s time that you have to go

You’d leave us all alone.

Sometime look at our photographs

The moments will make you laugh.

To see you leave it hurts so bad

You’ve been the best that I’ve had.

And this love shall never erase.

No one can take your place.

But now that you‘ll have to leave

I can hardly believe.

I can’t stop. I will cry.

Oh it’s so hard to say good bye!

Ma

She stood at the doorstep,

She fixed my tie,

She tied the buckle

As I cried.

“I don’t want to go mamma”

I moaned on and on,

She smiled at me

And to my bus stop, she walked along.

The horn blew, the brakes screeched

I pleaded not to go

I gripped her hand tight

And so she stepped in too and sat beside.

I walked into the class and pearls rolled down,

She could stay no more.

She sat out and when I looked about,

A reassuring smile she wore.

I peeped outside all day,

Fearing she left, if she may

But she sat there with no regret,

Still assuring me, there’s nothing to fret.

I don’t remember how long she’s passed her days like this,

And waited till the day I stopped peeping

Sat outside with the same smile

Till I stopped weeping.

Today, I am old, strong and bold

But she shelters me like a kid

And when I moan, sulk or groan,

She smiles again like she did.

I wonder how long she can still come

To all the places that I fuss to go,

How long will she comfort me

When I feel so numb and low?

When she sleeps beside me at night,

And on the bed we lay,

I still clutch her hand tight

Fearing she leaves, if she may.

Lost

I stand here and struggle

With thoughts that juggle

In my mind for long

It’s like a slow song.

A song that goes on

Which has no stop

No meaning, no rhyme

Just memories sublime.

But now, the empty frame hangs around.

The moments I thought I had bound

Today, I found, were suddenly all gone

Washed by the tide of time and storm.

What I thought was evergreen

Today is not.

And what I live today,

Of that, there are no photos shot.

The Morning News

Today morning as I got out of my bed, I saw the connector. Every morning, it is through this I realise and discover the world I live in. Every morning, it updates me of the latest ongoing and the breaking news to go with a hot cup of coffee. Humans call this daily dose of entertainment a "NEWSPAPER".

My dad always wishes I read the main paper first but all I do is jump, bounce and pounce on the Page 3 section. With maximum attention I read all the important (huh?) and crisp gossip and interviews of the “Page 3 people” (and I have to do that quickly before mom tries to snatch it away!).

However, today, unlike the other days, I was summoned to read the main paper with the look in dad’s eyes that might have sounded (if he had spoken) like “The Ultimate Warning”. And so, resistant yet compelled, I read the “Breaking News".

“A thirty year MBA killed as rash driving auto driver bangs the auto into a six feet crater” and a thesis cum analysis of the entire situation, expert comments on whether it was actually the fault of the auto driver, the mini bus driver who ran over him, the government's lack in maintaining the roads of the city or the sheer bad luck of the dead whose hands were still clutching on to an appointment letter and whose parents were waiting for him to reach home and the celebration to begin.

The second half of the paper read “Rizwanur case appeal this week. Todis refused to be present at the hearing” which reminded me (of the one time that I happened to read the cover page) that it was the same Rizwanur who got killed a year ago for loving and marrying a Hindu in this secular country and whose parents, relatives and other fans still light candles and wait for the culprits to be sent behind the bars.

A corner part of the paper was dedicated to the Tatas and whose headline read “Band to be declared in protest to resist Tata’s Nano investment” accompanied by photos of starving villagers whose sole hope rested on the “once-going-to-get-their-family-job” from the Nano project and who now committed suicides instead to get rid of the burden of never ending poverty.

Every morning, as I get out of my bed and look at the paper, all I do is jump, bounce and pounce on the Page 3 section and read with the maximum attention; not because it enlightens me of the hypocrite world I live in but I prefer to read and live in such a world than the one which has just become!

So, I’d rephrase this one and say, Today morning as I got out of my bed, I saw the connector.Every morning, it is through this I realise and discover the world of murderers that I live in. Every morning, it updates me of the hatred among people, the latest deaths, slaughters and slaughterers-which the butchers like to call the current "hot" and "breaking" news to go with a hot cup of coffee. Humans call this daily dose of “ENTERTAINMENT” a newspaper!

It's Time Already?

When I screamed at her for wearing my skirt, mum thought I'd grow up someday.

When she showed off her clean gown, I looked at my chocolate-moose-spread-supposedly white t-shirt and thought she was acting too old.

When we plotted and made brother sleep on the edge of the bed while we slept under the fan, cosy and comfortably, he thought he'd grow up someday and show off too.

When we decided to paint the room ourselves with sparkles, dad was petrified by our new found art and so he asked us to rub it off immediately. Perhaps he thought we were just kids!

I can't say it's been years since then. At least we don't fight for the same skirt anymore! But are we too old already?

That I couldn't realise we can't possibly share the same bed anymore?

That we can't have the midnight talks where we sat and laughed all night?

That she might just not be with us on the next holiday?

That we'll be going for dinner alone from now?

Not that I've been with her always. I haven't. She'd been off for studies for an year too but that didn't get the same feeling.

The other day, after dinner, she drove us back home. I felt strange thinking days later, we'll be dropping her back home.

Caught In A Box

The creative mind wiggles with ease as Einstein theories are given birth to every day, every second.

A new way, a new style, a newer discovery in a while!

And then, you reach to what they call the “abode of knowledge”.

Teachers teach, train and open up different spheres of life. Everyday turns into a realization of what surrounds you.

You think and you want to know. You read and you want to grow.

This knowledge that has no end, no boundaries, no tag of “conditions apply”.

You read and store. You even apply. You feel elated, you touch the sky.

Then, you read more but read what your teacher asked you at school. You heed to parents and confine yourself to syllabus and rules.

It sucks you on and on. You lose your urge to think beyond.

You please teachers, you soar heights, you gain marks, you win prize.

The machine thinks what it is taught to, you don’t condemn. The wings shed, you think like all of them.

And when the chain locks, that’s when you know you’ve trapped yourself inside the box.

A Toast To Diabolism!

Declaration:

I have decided to shed my angel wings and bear the canines of the evil:)

Readers are requested to limit laughter to smiles in fond remembrance of their friend, the blogger and to bar questions like "But you already were one!" in their respective minds.

And now that I have reached to this hellish abode, I hereby wish to indulge my sadist friend on the very same.

So, on the start of this journey, I wish to recollect some angel like helpings of ours which were done on purely unintentional basis.

To begin with, I would mention my affection towards the senior of Class X whom I happened to slap on face in Class 2. It was sheer innocence that had gripped me.

My friend's deed of overturning the sea saw and jumping out of it to bask pleasure of seeing the mate break her teeth were again some sings of a sinless childhood.

We forgive those who in spite of these out shown courtesies underestimated and punished us as though we had committed sins. We hereby shower mercy on the one who rebuked us in front of the class for merely trying to (laughing and jesting to the minimum) help her understand how Malaysia was not the capital of Kualalampur. The fact we never followed her class nor took notes were intentional more to enlighten her of the unwanted"ness" of her classes than anything bad.

I would, at this juncture like to defend my friend who had strong urge to throw back the chalk flung at her by that person on grounds that it had been those rare events when she was highly occupied in copying (previous classes notes)for the same person!(

Together, we were not very anxious to see our teacher cry for help while on verge of falling off the rocking chair but we credit our respective determination to have accepted that circumstance and to have limited ourselves to our seats.

To pour ice cold water in months of January on fellow mate and blackmail him to recieve punishments on our behalves, to drop an unwanted classmate back home by "white-lying" and making her believe we had angel intentions while we went partying all day, to pass on the "not-to-be-told" to "whom-to-be-told" and console person who befalls in tribulation were events where we were guided by sheer philanthropist morals and values.

And so, at this juncture, I declare ourselves free from the grips of the "angel-wings" that barred us from doing anything wrong.

I hereby raise a toast to celebrate times to come for the "diabolic duo"!

The Walk Never Ends..

We've been off some tough times,

and have made it through,

and that I want you to know

the only one I ever trusted was you.

You helped me through anger;

you've chased away my fears.

You held me through sadness,

and blown away all my tears.

When the world turned away

You stayed in my favor.

And when you knew I would drown

You became my lifesaver.

I'm not sure

I've always been the best to you;

I know I'm not perfect,

but the above is all true.

When you are in trouble

I’ll be your pal

Just know that I'll be there

Whenever you call.

When life pulls us under,

Whether we swim or drown.

I'll try to be the one for you

If I cant please don’t frown.

When the time comes

that we'll be put to rest.

Be sure that you know ,

My friend, you're the best.

And if there is Heaven,

I'll soon join you ,

but be sure I’ll miss you each day

Remember you in all I do.

And then we'll be together,

and never grow old.

and we'll walk hand in hand

on the streets paved of gold.

DAMN IT!

The short succinct almost agitated sounding in itself word "DAMN IT" is the only relief I look upon during test times these days. Even the thought of ripping apart the crystal clinging on to the narrow hooks of my window or the nib of the pen yearning to be scratched on the blank white sheet to finally summon it to death by fracturing the ball point comes as no relief at this very circumstance. All that I wish to do is say "DAMNIT!"

I have given up screaming. It reveals agitation to people you do not wish to disclose to, arouses curiosity and annoyance of neighbours, barking of my pet dog which is followed shortly by the street dogs in unison. Hence the cause of noise pollution.

I have given up (partly)(thou shall not lie) the temptation to resort to obnoxious slangs for half the people gaze at me with confused brows. This is followed by a die hard protest to make the not-so-knowledgeable comprehend what I actually intended to express. I drop this idea on grounds of the arousal of a rather disapproving situation - expression of agitation with patience assuming it to be a lesson of English being taught in class.(My English teacher apparently seems to display immense patience with our not-so-genuine class) :D

I have also given up (recently) the making of the dissent faces, the portrayal of a disgraceful look contributed by the quick-to-detect-my-thought cheek muscle and the highly deviled expression of the eye. My recent knowledge-gain proves that it just makes people, who earlier were perplexed about my existence and current status, believe of my being the copy of "Dunston" (of Dunston Checks-in) mistakenly placed amidst the human race!!

I have completely blackened the idea of ripping my hair apart, thumping the ground with legs and the disapproving groan. The first reason is contributed by the thought that pulling my hair adds to the hair fall which I am already groaning of day in and out. Thumping the ground makes my maid get a broomstick.(Affirmative belief in the existence of lizards/cockroaches/spiders on presence of which I show similar instantaneous reactions). And the last option struck to me as an entirely hopeless one when my mother confirmed she had genuine problems detecting whether I was crying or laughing. Thus no fruitful outcome than another groan/laugh was my reaction.

And hence I have hereby resolved to resort to this- Blogging.

By the time the writing process of the blog ends, I actually forget what instigated me to write.

So after all this, desperately trying to recollect the reason, aimlessly and just-for-the-sake-of-it, all I wish to say to end this all would be

DAMN IT!

Reborn

Deep into my heart you see

An elated me reseeds

A smile touches the tip of my eye

And happy thoughts come thereby.

A joy blossoms from within

A step into the world so pure from sin

Where the heart chooses its way

In this act of the life everyday.

The clear blue sky that shows

Miles and more to go

While the cloud above steals

A look to say at times, just ease...

The summer with the sun so bright

The yellow golden rays of light

The spring which makes the world anew

All a difference in the ways to view.

As the feel of a loved one is dawned

A fresh me is born

An amber light that shines to warn

That dark nights are now bygones.

Inflated Ideas..

Its the time when a whisper became a sound and the sound an echo. All nations of the country utter the same word "INFLATION"!

When such a scenario clutches the world from within, the intellectual me resolves to discuss the matter.

Close Hand Target One: Father

Question: Dad, What's the cause of inflation?

Ans: Ahem..various factors. The oil price rise for instance.

Aroused enthusiasm and curiosity. Questions back to back.

Question: So do people have less demand?

Ans: Yes, they have less money in hand.

Question: So consumption decreases?

Ans : Yes, there may be a mild depression even.

An extended curiosity. Before another question, father gladly recollects his delay for work. Disappointed, I think.

Eureka! Idea struck.

Resolve to ask Close Hand Target II: Economics Teacher.

Question: Mam now that we have inflation, and less money in hand, what do economists suggest to come out of this?

Ans: Ah, well its simple. They follow the basic economics principle.

Question : And that is?

Ans: That is, they assume the economy is out of inflation!

Umm..I think why I really wish to study this subject.

May be because when I am unemployed, at least I'll know why I am so!

Stand To Win

I stand here to dazzle the world

I stand here to face it all

I stand here to fight

I stand alight.

I think a while

I think as time flies

I think of ways

I think for days.

I have dreams

I have aims

I have my future

To make my name.

We all stand

We want to shine

We all strive

In that long line.

I stand through thick

I stand through thin

But unlike the rest

I stand to win.

A Cake Walk?

Few days ago, when I sat gazing at my books, I was reminded of an extremely unrelated task to attend to- a chocolate cake. Yes, the food addict part of me was aroused and the self discovery path was treaded.

The slightest notion of that ‘in-making’ delicacy was quick enough to make dual space in mind and stomach for that scrumptious desert for dinner. My study suggested that it was easier to convince your maid when your mom is not at home. So clicking in the right idea at the right time, I set off to furnish this in built thought.

Ingredients required:

3 eggs, 100 ml butter, 3 cups crushed sugar, 1 and half cup flour, half cup milk chocolate, 2 tea spoons of vanilla essence and 2 table spoons of baking powder.

Procedure:

Start off by choosing a bowl for the reactions to be carried out. I call them reactions to make novice aware of the deleterious circumstances they may be involving themselves into.

The eggs are to be crucified one by one and forced to mingle with dear butter. After being sure of their relation, proceed to unite the loner, crushed sugar with them. The trio must appear decently satisfied with their newborn relation to advance into further complex family planning steps.

After liberally permitting them to rejoice each other’s company for 5 minutes, resolve to indulge flour into the affair. With an extra effort by the spoon, the intervention to this mixture is to be followed closely by a mild attack of vanilla essence, baking powder and milk chocolate.

After 10 minutes of evil whips by the churner, shower pity at the dear reaction mixtures. It is the test time. Transfer the would-be-mouth-watering-desert-batter into the bowl. Flatter self by the appeal of the batter.

Being confident of the supreme make, put the batter into the microwave. Set the timer. 24 minutes. At ease by the thought of the desert coming on its way.

A patient wait for 25 minutes. Open the microwave. Smell the cake and arouse the addiction. Hold a knife, cut the cake and look at the piece in a succulent manner. A deep breath, an aroma to fill the kitchen, a bite of that heaven-made product.

Instantly look at your eyes pop out, mouth drop open and tongue roll out.

Nauseating!

Console soul, shoot an inquisitive look at the cake with eyes speaking the loud question. “WHAT WENT WRONG?”

Try to deduce the wrong step. Fail miserably. Anticipate mom’s arrival. Plead her to taste the cake. (Moms are genuine souls!). See her twitch her body, shoot a look at that merely “good-looking” cake. Follow her by running right into the kitchen and extract the bottle of crushed sugar. Watch her inquisitive question ”Is this what you used?” After a nod, giggle,chuckle, hear her utter, “Oh! The maid must have changed bottles. This is salt afterall!”

Now did I say it was an easy way out with the maids??

Precisely my first cake. So you see what a cake walk I had!

Colorful Memoirs

When the blown and filled up embodiment (rather emphasizing the stout looking stomach) of the water balloons are made to dive from a two storied building, the reaction on the targets is a little more than shock.

Sometimes when the precision of the shooter surpasses its anticipated levels of accuracy then unfortunately it is the head of the target that becomes a reason for the pat on the back.

Replacements to balloons are eggs and tomatoes. However personal experience makes me recommend an avoidance of the latter.

The wide spread logic of “eggs cracked on heads are good for the hair” comes as no relief. The not-so-known fact remains that maintenance of the mucky-egg yolk filled; albumen dripping hair becomes rather unmanageable.

Hence it is advisable not to feel the sensation of anxiety if being boycotted. Rather, an advisable option would be to check (not smell for it might be intolerable) the head for cracked, ruptured tomatoes, eggs and other sticky vegetables.

Occasionally the notion of the head-has-become-a-vegetable-farm may strike you too. To satisfy self, I preferred ignoring the thought.

The festive mood starts with a color-everyone session which is followed by marching house to house scrutinizing reasons for the rest sheltering self at home. Only on being satisfied for the aptness of the motive does the “terror party” move forward.

Then, a baking-self-under-the-sun-afternoon is highlighted with cheerful discussions, jokes, songs and nutty talks.

Dusting self to get rid of the eye-catchy colors lest to horrify respective parents, all return home only late in the afternoon. A good session of scrubbing and scouring self and then a hungry stomach yearning for food coalesces to provide a long-sleep-hangover.

Frankly, the festival is not as dirty (rather veggie) as I describe it to be but I’ll like to believe experiences maketh a man. However, it is a must for updating memory doses once a year.

Recently my encountered with a golden colored man updated my invention knowledge of such colors to what I considered a “just-gulal” festival.

And so, the look on the man’s face contented me to believe “All that glitters is not gold!”

And so a color-water sans holi is my choice. :)

Goodbye...

I looked into the deep-questioning eyes. It still bore the same innocence. No complaint, no anguish. They still had the power to engulf me.

Nothing had changed. The hair still touched the neatly outlined brows and eyes glittered with excitement. The air of merriment spread out by the smiled.

My knees melted. The taut mouth was unable to reproduce thoughts as words died at the tip of my tongue. The disease was spreading faster than I had expected. I felt weak again.

It was happening.

Time passed by as memories flooded my brain and the thoughts swam in the ocean with high tides. It had never been so hard.

I tried to smile back. It was him. I tried to recollect when I had last seen him. It had been so long now.

Perhaps

Good bye’s the saddest thing I would ever hear.

Good bye’s the last time I would hold him near.

He’d say that word and I would cry.

It’s such a shame I’d have to say goodbye.

In Rhythm with God

A gust of wind

passes by me.

In the eerie evening of autumn,

The trees swirl for me to see

Their dancing in felicity,

the delectation all along,

The leaves swinging in motion,

In the melody of the song.

Whilst the clouds above wait,

In the rhythm of the song they flow;

Darkness descends amidst them,

To shatter rain below.

The tiny droplets,

Are they cheer or pain?

Why do clouds weep

Down the lane?

As the cool breeze touches past me,

And I stand there by-

All relish the pelt

It is just I who sighs.

The silhouette of my anguish

is created by the rain;

The portrait is clear,

But none understand- all in vain!

Show it...

If you have a song, try it

If you have a tear, dry it

If you have a confession, make it

If you feel the sorrow of the others, take it,

If you have trouble, face it

If you have earned the fruit of your hard work, taste it

If you have happiness, share it

If you have a challenge, dare it

If you have strength, give it

If you have a moment, live it

If you have a dream, fulfill it

If you have a fear, kill it.

If there is a wrong, right it

If there is darkness, lighten it

If you have faith, show it

And let the world know it.