She and Me (III)

At this juncture, I would like to make an honest confession.

My room is safe, atleast for a while.

To those who have been wondering what made me say this, well, I'll let you make your own guess (Don't panic. It won't require Newton's brain to guess :P)

She:"Mamma, I don't like it. I get up so late here. Home is different. I am up by 6:30am."

Me: (Excuse me? Aren't you up by 7:15 EVERY morning, Sundays included!)

Post phonecall,

She: "Yayy (in what made me drop my pen which I am yet to find!) I am going home in a week!"

Me: (Wait, that's my reaction! Yayyiee, she's going hoome in a week!!)

She: (continuing)"So, I am going shopping today."

(Me: W-H-A-T! That would be NEWS!)

She: "To buy books."

(Me: W-H-A-T!!!!)

She: "But oh, I'll have to miss the lunch in the mess."

(Me: *faints*)

Roomie Diaries-II

Being with a student of psychology, I wonder if I have started putting my mind in deriving and unravelling the hidden meanings of statements. Well, I tried to experiment, but on the statements made by her.

‘Newspapers are gossip material. I don’t like to waste time on them.’ (Umm, I guess “Psychopathic Analysis of YOU-ARE-A-NERD” isn’t!)

‘Why do you need a dustbin in the room?’ (Or was it, my bed space is enough. Use that instead!)

‘I hate girls.’ (I dislike wasting time on talking, shopping, dressing?)

‘At 1230 am: It's bed time Surabhi.’ (Okay, my mom said the exact thing to me in Class II!!)

Humph.

More to come. DEFINITELY.

(New) Roommate Diaries

My roommate precisely occupies 45*45 centimeters of space in my room.

I say that because that’s the amount of space a chair occupies. Yes, your sense of reasoning might force you to reconsider the view but leap beyond it, you’re right. She sits on it ALL DAY.

Evidences (her all-day-neatly-laid-out-bed, dining-cum-study-table, friends who enter the room with their eye-sights affixed in the direction of the table etc) confirm the like.

I have given it considerable thought and deducted the following possibilities.

• · She is unfavourably biased towards her bed, or the room for that matter.
• · The chair has a gripping spell on it.
• · Forces like novels, music (ideally driving one to the bed) are repulsive in nature in her case.
• · She is immobile.

:|

I feel smart, finally!

And like the header goes, I feel smart.

For reasons manifold, weather god and I could never negotiate a deal, until today! So first thing I am going to do is raise a toast to our first-ever understanding!

To those who haven’t yet figured out, I am referring to the perfect synchronisation of my clothes and rain. Einstein neurons managed to get activated (oh yes, I believe I have one-two of them) and after I slipped into my light denim jeans, they vigorously fought with my laziness quotient to convince my mind to change into something shorter. My first pick was a rather ragged cotton skirt. (No, it was not white, luckily!) Suffering from a restricted shoe wardrobe, (due to space and unbelievable amount of shoe-bites) I decided to wear the ugliest of footwear I possess, the floaters.

What I still can’t get to believing was WHY and WHAT made me take my raincoat, the garment I always keep close to me when it doesn’t rain and fail to find during torrential rain! (And this news has to be refrained from getting till my mother’s ears, who has invested utmost trust that the raincoat she bought for me, after my vigorous rounds of selection and trial, (and her wait) would serve and replace the purpose of the umbrella.)

Why I don’t use the umbrella is another story which I shall venture at another point in time. For now, we shall concentrate over my abruptly activated smartness DNA.

So it rained and I had in place, all resources I required to combat it. The road that I have to tread during rains particularly is a picture of mini Sunder bans minus the tigers. If it weren’t for Delhi, a non-port city, I am sure boatmen would have come flocking to render transportation services in this locality. Imagine getting up to view from your balconies boatmen selling vegetables. Venice-like? Uh-umm, let’s move on!

While most people were stuck with their fruitless negotiations and deals with Rain God, I began my walk back post the rain on the otherwise evidently visible tar-substance. There was, only mud and water and dirt and (no, no fish or tadpoles!) slime. On my way, my only fear were (since I was, like I have highlighted my smartness for the zillionth time now, well equipped to deal with rain and mud) the ruthless owners of mechanically driven wheels who on such days sit callously inside their metal guarded regions and sadistically splash water on poor venturers like me.

However, fortune favoured the brave (and that is me here!) and I, on witnessing the enemy tank advance through knee deep water, post my long-jump towards the no-water-region above the road, to my utmost surprise, saw him smiling at me with genuinely philanthropist intentions!

Back to my room, to my utmost delight, (combined with an ounce of ‘unintentional’ sadism) I saw, my wise roommate, who acted otherwise today, came back drenched, with sticky jeans, slime, mud and yuck.

So, refusing to acknowledge any other reason and believing there ought to be ONE day I should rejoice the above established idea, I was smart.

:D

Auction

Another night, I cry to sleep;

The pillow, the shoulder to weep.

It tried in vain to console,

That gush of tear I could not hold.

Flash. A vision. Turning back.

He had said: "Fault, mistake and other lack."

And had summoned and complained,

Of Immaturity, he had blamed.

And I thought again, and wept.

In spite of the promises I kept,

I failed another one again,

Some more hurt, I felt some more pain.

Disappointed he was in me. He said,

“Come to me instead.

I will teach you. It’s a tough road ahead,

Come to me baby, don’t fret.”

And so it was, like a game;

An auction board that read “Bid to Claim”.

I had to go, for he came,

And reared me up, again, much the same.

I grew, but to hear

“You’re still so careless dear!

Now come to me, I shall teach,”

Said another. The bidding process was to repeat.

But to my readers, before you are caught,

In this world, you won’t be taught,

That to live your own way,

You needn’t always obey.

A smart player will know it quick,

To play the game, learn its trick.

The only way, soon you'll see,

Is to learn to breakfree.

The Princess

When she was born, they said:

“That princess is a gift, wrap her with care;

Shield her, love her.”

They whispered a prayer.

“Don’t leave her alone,

Keep her sound,

Lest she cries,

When none around.”

Drapes were drawn,

The sun might hurt.

Carpets unfolded,

Lest crawling knees caught dirt.

An all-rounder she be,

They taught her to swim,

To dance, to sing,

They taught her to win.

The loveliest of dresses,

The prettiest of shoes,

All she desired, they got,

To chase away her woes.

A fragile heart raised by tender love,

A protected soul she was of all above.

One day it shattered, her glass world,

They were gone, her life swirled.

That love, that touch,

She so longed;

But she knew in that bereft world,

She could never belong.

The Joint-Account

The grass is ALWAYS greener on the other end? Perhaps is. When I was young, I always dreamt of getting older. Unaware of what being 'older' meant or comprised of. Being old is cool or so it seemed.

Positives:

• Boss younger siblings with zero resistance.
• Talk bullshit (which is idolised as 'her stand on the issue').
• Cellphones and Debit Cards are mandatory.
• Own a shoe wardrobe on the claim that your feet size won't grow more!
• The maid servant doesn't call you 'baby/baba' anymore!
• The teeth-falling ceremony is over now. :)
• In a position to give 'crucial' career advices (Wonder why they are never self-implied!)

Negatives:

• Cannot wear pink frill frocks :(
• Chocolate bars no longer come as gifts!
• Are branded 'ill-mannered' for licking the maggie-masala in the end.
• Appear amusing if using Johnson and Johnson soap and shampoo.
• STRICTLY cannot drool in public profanity.

Besides, age does make you realise that education is an unchangeable fact in life. No, tearing textbooks is NOT the simple end to it.

However, there are some harsh facts of growing old too and 'Responsibility' is one of them. Every word you speak is a statement of your parents' investment into you. Don't debit it out completely if you don't want your cheque to bounce. It's after all a joint account, isn't it?

End?

When the ink on newspapers leak printing deaths,

When killing becomes a trend,

You seem to like the new flavour of biscuit with the morning tea,

Is this the end?

Bogged down by work,

You have chores to attend;

In hurry you skip greetings and prayers,

Is it then the end?

When television screens blurt terror attack news,

With your favourite show to begin at 5, you seem indifferent.

Ignorant, as you turn to be,

Are you not progressing towards that end?

If only there was one article on the paper,

One flash of news,

One phonecall,

One loss,

One death.

Would that make you question?

How long is that you could pretend?

To be at ease, to take what comes,

Would you then know the end?

When THAT fear grips you under,

And you realise loss of tools to defend,

Progressing towards mere helplessness,

Won't it be the end?

When anxiety from violence seems like a shadow,

Will you realise the need to amend?

Isn't it the time to act?

The need to voice dissent.

An urge to suspend

rather TRASH resilience.

Only if that one question makes you think,

Only if that one question you cannot forget,

No it's not the end,

Not yet.

Strength. Power. Aim. Goal. Victory.

Let these words not swim,

Lest they drown;

Let morale not dwindle,

Lest it be down.

Let determination not be shaken,

What if you frown?

Have the courage of barrier-breaking.

Look within to find the leader in making.