Fringes of the past

Sometimes while sitting on computer, with fingers moving on the keyboard, with no just no background, I get flashes of scenes running in my past, appearing very vivid before my eyes. I even feel the pleasure, attraction, excitement, grief, disappointment that I had felt at that very moment.

I just got the flash of that winter night of 9^th February, 2008, seeing myself dancing on Punjabi beats, and mom, and a lot of other females dressed in gaudy clothes and jewellery, clapping and smiling and singing, circling around me, laughing, cheering me up, girls whistling, Bhaiyya making faces at me in fun .  I could even hear the music played, kids giggling around and door bells ringing, vehicles honking, passersby staring and street lights twinkling from the widow.

I see myself in blue shirt and blue jeans, showing off my bangles and anklets, my hair bouncing with every step  of my dance steps, my heart thumping with joy and mind, so much at peace to feel that all near and dear ones around me were happy, well, and alright as I was happy.

And, in that deep corner of my heart, sat that thing, that I lost forever- Love for life.  

The Auditorium

After much excitement and curiosity, I went into the Auditorium. The average age of the audience was 60 years, as if even after spending 40 years of their lives with their respective soul mates, they were looking for a ‘one point’ peace in life. And, I, being less than half of the average age, had already realized that it doesn’t exist.

The stage is set. The eyes are waiting. And the music of peace begins.

Gradually, the fumes start evolving out of our burning hearts, whereas we had, so strongly assumed that the flames inside us had extinguished with time??

No, the music was just a valve, not water.

There is no water actually, to extinguish the fires of the heart.

Only fire. Only sting. Only pain. The enjoyable, glamorous pain. Some have legalized sophisticated ones, which are sharable. Some have bigger un-sharable chunks.

But, pain is pain. Only definitions and perceptions differ.

I was happy that I was feeling the correct thing.

I was alone, and I knew that I was alone. So, I felt alone.

People, there, were not alone, but they felt more lonesome that I.

As the music started, the eyes started to get watery.

The handkerchiefs silently, hesitantly, getting humid.

Women can cry openly. Men can’t and they don’t.

I suggest they should.

Sometimes, I think crying is like masturbation. It is just playing, talking to your own self, your own pains, and your own words, emotions and your world, and there, with every drop, leaving your eyes, you self relieve your discomforts out of your body, and feel relaxed.

Every ghazal sung, every verse shared, had a meaning- in everybody’s life.

Each one of us has encountered a moment of falling in love, a moment of losing our love, a last moment in life, with somebody, an irreparable damage, an irreversible time, an unending hope, a betrayal, infidelity,  loving inspite of infidelity, acute hatred, and loving back again.

It is love, that’s the measuring unit. Isnt it.

All the stories range from no love to acute love to dead love.

Love, a lot of love, a loveless love, betrayal in love, no love, absence of love, a painful love et al.

In the dark auditorium, and dimly lit stage, as if we all were seeing, our past reeling, in every single word sung, and every beat of sitar.

I doubt, only women cried.

People come to realize their pain and cry. On these occasions, they get a reason to cry legitimately.

I concluded, probably there is no peace, for which we keep yearning, all through our life.

There is only, a hope for peace.

 A hope that remains a hope forever, and dies with us, finally.

What do you say?

He went, finally

You need to go.

You need to leave me.

With the pack of memories that we have, woven together

I know I have to let you go.

Not for the sake of leaving, but in real.

I see you going

I just have to stand under this demolished roof of hope and planned future 

And,  watch you walking 

Away from me

Where the distances keep increasing with every step you take 

Every step that you take, takes you away from me

My heart is churning and dying with commotion of the silence filled in inside

But my lips are sealed

I see your back

I see your body getting smaller and smaller as you move away 

And the ghost of insecurity grabbing me by my neck

and pulling me

I shout

Ok, I lose all

I will do all that you want me to, and be what you want me to be 

O my dear 

I call your name

Can you hear me

I know you can

Please come back

I am sorry

Please return

Just dont listen, dont count, dont think, dont.....just dont do anything 

Just come back

to me

I need you.

I really do......

The new Me

It gives a great feeling when I cook just for myself. I buy only the groceries that I like. There is nothing in my kitchen that I dislike. When I go to super market and see my favorite ice cream- I try to convince how much I want that ice cream and that I request the other part in me to buy that for me,  to which my other part replies and asks me to calculate the calories and then these both parts of mine fight within me and finally, as expected I am seen coming out of the store with a biggest family pack ice cream.

I reach home, I change, I switch on my laptop, wrap myself in my cozy quilt that Mom gave me, and unwrap the chocolate ice cream and with every bite, I close my eyes and enjoy every single bit of sweetness that it infuses in my body, soothing my soul.

I go to wet market alone. I find it so hard to buy vegetable for the other me, you know, I throw so much tantrums when it comes to eating healthy. Like a mother, I buy and like a spoilt baby, I refuse those yukk tasting yet extremely healthy vegetables.

I wander around the florists and deep inside my heart I want to buy those yellow roses and drooping pink coronations, smiling at me. I dont get the courage to buy flowers for myself.

The glimpse of flower excites me and its smell holds me by my arms , pulling me...not letting me go. And this part of the strict me inside, pulls me by my collars and takes me away from the street, asking me not to indulge in this stupid acts of staring flowers.

I go to this park adjacent to my building. Cutest kids play there. I always see myself and my brother playing, laughing, jumping from the bench, inventing the silliest ways to do things and then fighting over trifles, and then not talking to each other and then again seen plucking grass and throwing each other. I smile with happiness and cry out of joy to see those happy kids.

I go for shopping. I don't remember when was the last time when I bought some dress suggested by someone. I just buy whatever I like- whether I wear it or not, just because I like it- just like a stinky rich father asking his daughter to pick anything she wants from the store. And, I do.

I go to Church. I sit there staring at the being prayed figure. I don't burden Him much by asking a lot of things for myself- He is already busy with pending supplications. I empathize with Him, thank Him for whatever He has done to me, and assure Him that I'll keep on surrendering myself to Him.

I go to sea side (when was the last time I wrote something without mentioning sea in it). I see the green waters semi covered with bed sheet of white waves. I stand gazing at it for hours. Sometimes I feel, if I stretch my palms, the waves will touch me in love. I see the moon pasted over the grey sky- it is so real that it looks so unreal. Some airplanes dodge and twinkle like stars. The sky looks like mom's grey Mokaish dupatta that she used to wear while bringing me back from school.

The days pass and the nights are passing. I see myself growing old with someone I am in love with- the new me. 

A late night walk

Night has always been the time best time of my day, for the peace and calmness it contains in its womb. A time when everything stands at still. The world is allowed to take rest, sleep. The pacifying effect it has on every face, is what I love the most.

As a child too, I always dreamt that when I grow bigger one day, and when I'll be able to take care of myself, I'll walk alone on the grey roads of black nights, pocketing my hands, enjoying the star lit sky.

I didnt realise that I had grown bigger. I never fulfilled my dream.

Last Friday, I was coming back home, from Police Station, all alone, past midnight.

Freezing breeze, star lit night, lonely road and the pacifying silence spread around.

At that moment, I realised what is happening now is what I always wanted.

I had grown bigger. I was alone. I could take care of myself. And I could do what I yearned for- a late night walk.

As I walked, behind the swaying palm trees, I saw the sexy hunk Sea smiling like a boyfriend, and calling me by my name, pleading naughtily to make full use of the moment, and invited me.

As I moved ahead, the chilling sea breeze, like flood water, started to rise from my ankles to my legs, to my knees- where the skirt allowed it to, and my legs froze - dont know in pain or excitement to meet my beloved.

I felt the breeze coming from Eastern sky, playing with my hair, throwing my curls on the other side of my face, and picking it up again as I turned my face.

My face glittered and my eyes twinkled, the moment I got the view of the sea. An automatic smile curved my lips, forgetting what all I went through during the day and the Police Station.

I almost embraced the sea with a teary face and he, like my lover, assured me that all will be fine, because we both know that no matter how much you are cheated, words do carry a certain quantum of faith in them, and they are not hollow as we start thinking about them as grow in our experiences in our life.

                                

I saw some ships flashing in the middle of the grey black sea, and the foggy sky over it.

I heard some dogs barking. As I turned to see, a maid with three big rich dogs taking a stroll over the sea side, talking to some super rich man in his extra super rich black car.

I noticed some object kept on a sheltered bench behind me. As I tried to fathom, I found an old man, cuddled up in extra jackets and caps, sitting with a big plastic bag kept besides him. To his left, a parcel of food, half eaten with a plastic spoon kept over it.

Oh, that feeling of insecurity that I keep shooing away, caught me by throat again.

Looked like that oldie had no place to go. And, that I'll also be as alone, as feeble and as helpless and homeless like him when I grow old. 

The night appeared getting elongated. And as if a thousand arms approaching me to strangulate me from the deep corners of the night and the Sea I just trusted.

At the end of the day, and after the night, we all are deeply alone from inside, finding means to trust someone in the world of disbelief and rejection. 

The Experience

Each time something good happens to us, it mostly goes in the database of our memoirs.

And, each time something bad happens, we name it experience.

Off late, I wasn't getting much new 'experiences'  but was continuing with the feeble old ones.

So, I got a new one. A big one. International one.

I was cheated on my money. By a woman I don't know and never met.  Well, I sternly believe in what men staring at the Sensex, smiling at each other, comment at 3:30 pm in Bombay Stock Exchange: Waqt se pehle aur kismet se zyada kuch nahi milta (You don't get before time and more than your destiny) . I too have learnt this hard way.

But getting cheated and making a profit/ loss is different. I tell you how.

Making profit or incurring loss makes you happy or sad. But getting cheated makes you a different person altogether. I don't say that it makes you an alert citizen, the way your local police advertises, but it makes a deep impact on your personality. It makes you a non believer. Negative. Practical and dry. It teaches you to be a grandfather on the road and not to play football like a kid there. It gives you an unnecessary mature approach in all things that you would have wanted to do without thinking. Sometimes beauty lies in doing something without thinking of its conclusion.  This is where it fills ugliness in your life. Which, I think is more than the actual money you lost in cheating.

Of course money does matter. But there are two things that are bothering me.

First, the fact that I have been cheated. I am not able to sleep, eat, sit (and even sh*t, I am serious). I know I won't be able to, till I accept that I have been. And, once I do, all body parts will become functional automatically. It is a temporary phase.

But the second one is not. It is that it has deprived me of my right to believe my decisions. And questioning the fact that I am wrong and incapable. A question emanating my own heart and hitting me where it hurts the most. It has shattered me and I cant let myself heal for the fear of getting hurt again. A high sense of responsibility coupled with higher sense of apprehension. It is like missing something for the fear of missing what I have. This is how  'losing' becomes a greater word than 'getting' in your life. It has made me what I am not and what I never wanted to be.

And yes, the third impact, that I am forgetting to mention. This will advance after I have accepted the fact that I was cheated. Ah that feeling of scornfulness, hatred, revenge with unending curses that your heart secretes for the person who cheated you, that spurns to leave for quite some time. It keeps coming and going at various intervals, till it gets dissolved and you are healed out of this temporary madness effect.

Well, as I know, I am just on the threshold to plunge into this dark ugly phase and have to start from the Step one, and when I reach the finish line, i ll too  have to call it my new 'experience'....

The Old lady

They say, when your love is strong, it goes a long way.  I think I should also start believing  it now.

I love sea. I have loved sea much before I saw it.

So much I love it that God picked me up from an island city and put me in another.

Each time I go for an evening walk sea side, I always wonder to see the rising waves of the green waters, how perfect God can be. Everyday I see the same sea, from the same jetty, under the same light poles, but the beauty of the green waves of the blue sea never seems to diminish.

Anyways, the description of the place requires a different write up altogether.

So, I have been going there almost everyday since I have shifted here.

I seldom notice the people coming there at the time when I go. All Chinese people look same- including men and women look alike to me...probably the sense of differentiation will prevail after I have spent a long time here. Except one old lady, who walks with a stick in her hand, with bent spine, excessively wrinkled face,  wrapped in unnecessary woolens  and passing smiles to the passersby.

She did that with me too. With a rude and unruly woman who never even shares an eye contact while walking on the road, in spite of knowing that strangers (especially Europeans) exchange smiles here- on road, in bus, in lifts, in shops, I mean,  anywhere and   everywhere.

So, this was a routine.  Our timings were same. I will come back from work, cook and leave. Everyday, we'll see each other  there. Exchange smiles. Wave at each other, then resume our jogging/ running. One day, while I was doing some stretching exercises, she joined me. She said something to me. I signaled, that I didnt understand her language. I tried to speak with easiest English, so that she catches some of my words. But, she could not. English was as French for her as was Chinese for me.

We could not  talk. Well, this didn't mean that we could not communicate.  Indeed, we become true humans when we are silent.  She was doing her Marshal Arts type typical slow motion Chinese exercises. In order to show respect, I stopped doing what  I was doing and started following her, communicating with just smiles. She too kept showing and teaching me new ways. "Chaula" I said, and I left, though I knew my Chinese grammar was not correct here.

Our smiles became more closer, I mean something more than just no-stranger smiles. And, now every day, my eyes would search for her at that place. I would describe that place. It is a long jetty right in the middle of the sea and ferries to Macau and different islands pass from there. Lit up with yellow beaming flood lights. Can be compared to a long lonely road lit with lamp posts in the middle of the road, with sea on either side.

The temperature was dropping by 2 degrees everyday. I too had to buy woolens. But I was not seeing her.  Got a little worried. But consoled myself saying, lesser people were turning up owing to the falling temperature.

After some time, got busy with work and didnt go for another week. But somehow, deep inside my heart, I missed her.

I went today. Got late with respect to our common time. While I was jogging around the sea waves, it started to drizzle. I could not see a single person till far end.  Waited under a shed and was convinced that she at least wont come today.

As the rain stopped, she just appeared from nowhere.  And waved me.

I went running towards her. As if, I had got her back. As if I had really lost her. For a moment, I felt like just hugging her. I applied hand brakes on my emotions.

We exercised. In her style. Indo Chinese style, you know.

Then she signaled that it was over and that we should make a move. We both were walking together.  A tinkling  plane was flying over the black clouded sky. She smiled and pointed it over to show me.

I again felt the strong urge to hug her. I applied emergency brakes on my heart. My heart pleaded, "I lost Daadi (grand ma) seven years back, even when my sixth sense had warned me that it was my last summers with her and that day in 2003, I went to drop her at the Bus stop, I wont be seeing her after that. And now, when Daadi is back, physically, in this way, please let me hug her and ask for forgiveness for all the times I made excuses, for all the things I wanted to share with her, for all the girly talk I wanted to do, while sitting in her lap like a spoilt kid. I want to compensate for all those moments lost. I dont want to miss this chance- this moment to hug her and tell her that I love her.  I can do this much at least. Please let me..........". My belly churned. My internal controls went haywire, my machinery got jammed.  All brakes failed.

I simply opened up my arms and caught hold of the poor woman by surprise. I was in tears.  My chin on her shoulders and my palms around her back.

Poor she, she didnt react. She was still under shock with my unexpected gesture.  Little did she realize how destiny had planned our meeting. Before she could think of reacting, I said "Chaula" and walked back. I cried again. My face, full of tears, showing satisfaction of what I did.

After I had walked a few steps, I realised the gravity of the mistake that I did. She could take my action other way round, and never talk to me, thinking that I am some cynical- crack woman. Mr. Heart again pleaded that he wanted to undo the harm done. I stopped a woman passing by and asked her if she could be my interpreter.

I took her to that old lady, and requested the woman to tell the motive behind my stupid action.  As she explained, she nodded and smiled. The woman translated for me and told me that she wants to tell me that she got worried about me as I didnt come here for a week, and requests me to come here every day. We cracked some jokes, I mean the interpreter did the job for us.

Along the sea side, realised, how strong my love was, for my Daadi.

As we were all chatting, behind my newly found Daadi stood the immaculate sea, none noticed, but something divine and pious touched that part of the horizon that very second, and told me, 'those who go, do come back'.

Christmas Eve

Well, before I name it something else, I want to call it achievement....

Yes, I did something today that I never did in my life, and yet always wanted to. I did try too. Never succeeded.

I always wanted to go to Church on Christmas eve, feel good about the wonderful lights and congregated Believers, and pray.

I did that today.

Never knew that God wanted me to start praying from the foreign lands.

Dad's old T-shirt that hides my oversized bosom during my jogging and ill fitting jeans is what I spent my whole day in and didn't bother to change when I was going to Church.

On the road itself, saw chirpy girls dressed in red, yellow, with curled hair, smiling, wishing merry Xmas to everyone on the road- known or unknown. When they just passed by me, fresh perfume was spread.

I knew in advance that I ll be the ugliest of the women in the Church. Felt sad to notice that this fact too didnt bother me and i continued with my shabby looks. Beauty, attraction was no more a beauty, attraction for me.

My landlady had warned me that the Church will be flooded with people at that moment.

I just muttered a small prayer that I should get a place to sit. And, I knew I will.

As I was walking by, a chill of insecurity again touched my spine, and it didn't go. Walking alone on a foggy road uphill was never so insecure as I felt today.

I did keep some money in my pocket, but keeping more, you know, makes your more insecure.

As I entered the Church, I it was dark. I loved that darkness.

All the seats were occupied. I sat behind a heavy old man, with a girl was snorting in the wet tissues pack she was carrying and whose guy was busy texting on his touch screen phone.

I thanked God for finally letting me come and pray, and I thanked for the darkness.

I could cry, without getting noticed. And, the huffing female besides me made my job easier.

I cried. In the darkness. In the Church. Repented for all the sins- intended/ unintended, attempted/ unattempted, past/future.

I prayed for ...........well, I have only thing to pray for... and God has given me everything else.

I prayed for my family, my neighbours- in Chandigarh, Mumbai and HK. I prayed for all the hard working people of Mumbai,  talkative people of Chandigarh and the silent people of HK.

I prayed for all those men who had a crush on me.

I prayed for all those women who envy me, and had done bad to me.

I prayed for all those women, who, like me, were spending a lonely life.

I prayed for the people I see on roads, and those inside the big buildings that I see from road on my way to office, and all those who dream to be inside those buildings one day.

I prayed for all Filipino maids who stay here and work day and night.

I prayed for all those people who have none in their lives...none to talk to when they get home after work and spend silent evenings everyday, cooking just for themselves.

I prayed to God that I should also see the whole world, before I die.

I prayed for blue eyed kids...hahaha

I prayed for the Chinese cute baby tht I had seen last time.

I prayed for all the soldiers of all countries.

I prayed that peace should prevail over all countries and the Governments should think of more human welfare than warfare.

And soon it was 12. People prayed in the local language- I didnt understand. I prayed for all those whose language I didnt understand and who, in buses, MTR, trams, lifts, shops, wet markets, exchange smiles with me.

I left after some time. The lights were juggling and taxis running on the roads. The roads in HK were still lonely and dark and cold.

Solitude and me

They say, the more you run away from girls, the more they come near you...
Solitude, I infer now, is exactly opposite to that...
More than enough I have ran away from it..but it looks like never leaving me
So, why not, for a change, pause and let it reach me...as they say, no one should go unheard.

As the definitions of life have been recetly changed for me, I realised, I am now, getting more attracted towards solitude and its reated stuff..

Earlier, when i used to roam at the beach, i used to get amused to see the couples holding hands, laughing, kissing, hugging and playing..
But now, i feel like getting more attracted towards the singles..of all age groups...of all sexes..of all creeds..of all social statuses..
I have observed that people who stay single are more healthy, more independent, more smiling, choosy and seem like being proud of themselves..
They work as an insignia of human race.. i may be wrong..but they look like so powerful from inside
Probably when we are alone, we are assured that we have got nothing to lose, hence we feel contended, happy and secured

Initially, when i encountered solitude for the first time after separation from my partner, it symbolised death to me...gradually i realised that staying with solitude was not a compromise, but a blessing as it taught me how important i was for myself...and it really taught me how to love myself..

But gradually, as per the law of diminishing utilities, the love for myself, after reaching its height started to diminish, and at that stage, i felt like giving clues to myself that i was decaying..

As a matter of fact, I am going to complete 6 months of the exile period now, and i m passing through so many questions, probabilties, some larger uncertainties and some self framed lessons of life...

The season of tears, in between, arrives every two months..ha ha
I have just finished over with it..i m allowed to have a tearless smile for another 2 months now...

By staying alone, I realised that there are 26 hours, and not 24 hours in a day..
And i know every single hour that i live with during the day, now-a-days.

The days are long..especialy sundays
Nights are grey..they used to be sparkling black earlier
Mornings are patchy and pale yellow in color.. they used to be orangy red earlier

Meanings of life have changed substantially

The things that used to look big in years to come in life, smell smaller and vice versa
Life used to look so planned, just like a passing affair...
Time, similarly, i took as a weak warrior
I am contented to know that I am wrong, before wrong actually happened to me..

Solitude has made me realise my mistakes and my potential and answer the questions for which i never was able to shell out time..strange, but true!!
It has helped me to suggest myself what all do i need and at what time to fill up the vaccuums created within me..

It has helped me know myself, as a being, as a female, as a growing woman, as a professional, as an individual..

At the same time, it has uncovered the bitter variances of life that I used to assume as constants in my equations...

I am reminded of Joseph Konrad's saying...."We live as we dream- ALONE !!"
The new law of my "Individualism" replaces "we" by "I" and "as" by "and", thereby making it...."I live and I dream- ALONE !!" 

Eat Pray Love- Movie Review

I saw the movie yesterday on TV again. Then remembered that I had written its review long back. Searched for the file and pasted it here.....

Life is more than just a choice between a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’. And, when, life asks you to choose ‘yes’, you must grab it before it leaves a ‘no’ for you as a last choice. This is what Ryan Murphy, the director, wants to convey.

As kids, we used to idolize Julia Roberts for the way she looked, and today we admired more of how she still looked.  As if, she was a perfect choice for being a ‘Liz’ who ate, prayed and loved.

The movie suggests- Eat Pray Love

Eating- portrayed by enjoying life, making merry, being a part of a family- loving, caring for those who may not be related to you in blood, and worrying with them for the ‘have nots’ and ‘but must have’ problems and participating in their lives and learning from them.

Pray- meant not just praying God, but yourself too, as the God, (as they say) dwells within you. And. Praying is not just praying, but understanding. After all, we don’t live for the things we pray for… or do we?

And finally love.

After losing somebody we loved/ trusted or just equating unhappiness with someone who loved us, we forget that there is always a next time, and tomorrow, another day.

Like Physics theory of gaining momentum by an object that is constantly at rest, we make our life too, constant and gain momentum and ‘for our good’, we decide not to hurt ourselves again, by falling in  love again, and more, not to lose ourselves and the balance we have attained.

Very truly, the healer in Bali told Roberts, that it is okay to imbalance your life for love.

Commercially speaking, the movie could not do well because of romanticizing the western fantasy of finding solace in the arms of tepid Eastern culture. Through the book's two and a half hour celluloid version, protagonist Julia Roberts does nothing to break the much hammered myth of India being the land of snake charmers and elephants. Her character Liz goes through more than just a mid life crisis -- multiple failed relationships and stagnation in every aspect of live scar her to the extent where she decides its time to address the 'I' within her, hence the trips to Italy (eat), India (pray) and Indonesia (love). Each segment in the three countries tells us a different story, yet the problem (Julia) remains the same. There are ample scenic moments that capture the lush landscapes of these three diverse terrains beautifully. Be it the Roman piazzas, or the crowded streets of Bali the camera captures every detail and magnifies it to appease your senses. Out of the three places, Italy offers the most fun setting, while the other two give the film a more serious tone. 

As the plot progresses, however, and Julia's character arrives at an ashram in India, there is some terrific acting both from Roberts and from Richard Jenkins, who plays Richard from Texas, and who gives the best performance of the movie when he finally reveals his painful story. 
One of the most beautiful inferences that Roberts drew, in the movie was that ‘ruins are beautiful’. What has ended now is over. Its remains remind you that it has passed over and in no case, it is likely to haunt or disturb or affect you in any manner.

One message conveyed to the society by the movie says- ‘a divorcee’ is not an insignia of being in a ‘wretched forever status’. Rather it is somebody who gathered courage to choose to say ‘yes’ to life and move on rather than staying with a ‘no’ all through his/ her life with a fake ‘ok’ till death.

Hence, certainly the movie is a one time see, and Julia being the reason of ‘once more’.

Tip tip tip

The location of my seat in the office is such that, even if the day of resurrection arrives, and the whole universe is destroyed, I’ll be the last one to get to know about it and run.

Whether it is raining, or is sunny, I get to see only when either I go to the cafeteria for lunch or down the stairs for outdoor work.

When I climb down the stairs, even then, I can’t see the weather.

I keep guessing it with the footprints at the door of the lifts. If I see drops of water and wet foot prints, a smile curves my lips- for it signals rain. If I don’t see such things, an inverse curve makes my face frown.

Rain is a ‘big’ reason of joy, for me, still.

It still makes me happy, like earlier.

Nostalgic...

While the watchman sitting at the entrance always get bewildered to see my uncommon expressions when I see that it is raining. While people make faces and put out their rain coats in an ‘uff’ gesture, my overjoyed face can’t hide the felicity. I feel the urgent need to zip my lips, when somebody tries to read my delight laden looks.

Like others, I too have to behave as if I am also bugged with the untimely rains. With a sullen face to show them, I open up my umbrella, and take off with a swoosh for a wonderful walk in the bent dripping green trees; wet, extra blackened road; full of green and yellow leaves and colorful-wet-round umbrellas; the sweetened humid 22 degrees breeze; the washed look on the faces of flowers and leaves of the pots and flower beds, and the slanted falling little droplets of water- giving a romantic blurred vision of the scene. I just love it, before anything else.

 Not a single day I have missed out to get drenched in rain, since the rainy season has started… I am breaking my own records everyday, for getting drenched and having enjoyed the drops of ‘sky water’.

It gives me a feeling as if this whole arrangement is made for me- to make me feel blessed and privileged. As if signifying, that the best moments are not waited for, or can’t be secured, but are meant to be consumed and enjoyed NOW!!!

Minutes after a fresh downpour, the ground looks dried up...as if it didnt rain at all...Sometimes I think, even the thirst of the earth is like mine- INSATIBLE...

I wish I could stretch the rainy season for the full twelve months.

Every single day, till Ramzan ends, is going to be so special.

Each time droplets fall over the asbestos roof of the mess, or the metallic ceiling of the local train, it works as an automatic reaction of rain hitting the ground, and I feeling to touch the sky.

Even if I am deep asleep, the noise of kad kad kad kad produced while the wooden windows are hit with the watery waves, wakes me up- either it makes my dreams rosier, if I continue to sleep or it keeps me awake at night...

How much I have longed for it!!!!

Simultaneously when it pours, it reminds me that just like water, life too, is dripping away out of my hands.

The handsome dark clouds that attract me like a hunk will be emptied soon… and in less than three months, they will turn pale and white under the yellow Sun of realities shining on their head.

Who will make me smile, who will indulge in the ‘come on, lets get going’ process with me...

Stretching out your palms in rain doesnt give you anything other than just making your palms wet....

So why this intoxication... this love, this yearning, this thirst, this longing, this craze... for a few drops....