A little twists, A little turns

Qtiyapa of 'Theory of Evolution'

2014-02-23T06:35:00.001-08:00

It was really a boring day, four friends Carbon hydrogen nitrogen and oxygen were fedup with their solitary life. They decided to mingle each other. They thought and thought as to what the name of this relationship should be. Then carbon said that the name should be Molecule. Hence a Molecule was born.

Soon molecules started creating problems. Full world was facing population explosion of Molecules. Feeling sad about this stigma in the society they planned to give LIFE to there existence. After a brainstorming session by the leaders of Molecules, the pointiff decided to start with something small and named their new born Life as VIRUS.

Viruses did not live to the expectations of their forefathers. Sometimes they were alive and sometimes they were dead. Those who were dormant realised their purpose of existence to be Alive. After hearing to so many inspirational songs like 'papa kehte hain bada naam karega' and watching 'Milkha Singh' movie, they started their antidormant movement. The result of their hardship was Bacteria.

Bacteria were the true inheritors of viruses, no matter what food it was they would feed themselves till their bellies get fattened so much so that a new baby bacteria came out of that. Few of them were so good that they could convert the milk to curd and some were so evil that they could create deceases and spread infection.

The good bacteria maintained the legacy of there forefathers to dream big and to become big . Hence Bacteria became Protozoa then hydra then flat organism then round organism , they also tried to become the leading Arthropods and Mollusks.

Laziness is part and parcel of life, but this time laziness became the decision maker for these till now grown organisms . Those who were lazy decided to be plants, to stand at a place, get free energy from sun and earth, and prepare there own food. Those who were kind of active, had little interest in locomotion decided to become Animals. Hence two new kingdoms were formed because of this. Plants did not had any urge of becoming big. They were satisfied with whatever height they used to get.

But animals were really greedy and the greediest among them was APE. Initially this animal used to crawl on earth with its arms and legs . Later after watching Ramdev Baba's yoga video it tried to mimic him and gradually the animal which used to walk on 4 legs started to walk on 2 legs. Their style had changed, their behaviour had become abnormal, soon they started wearing clothes. Hence the so called evolved apes started calling themselves as HUMAN BEINGS. Hence we were born without purpose and by CHANCE.

Women emPOWERment

2013-05-16T01:37:00.003-07:00

Woman the one subject i could never understand.They stand up for many more things they actually portray.From the warmth of a mother to little fights with my sister i had a portion of it all. Me being in Bidar for a short visit, i had a chance to bear witness to the survival part of her.Was it woman empowerment or her way to spice up the routine with her tadka of wit..but whatever it was it did bring an outburst of laughter on how clever she really can be.

I did walk into a mutton shop. I had spent the entire two three digit note on veggies.. Mr. Gandhi gleamed a little smile as I looked into the next note in my hand...one hundred, can I manage to buy mutton .Hmmm with inflation climbing the ladder up, I didn't know whether the person in front really obliged to give me mutton worth a hundred bucks..a smile,yes it did wonders at times..Assalamualaikum, the heavy Hyderabadi accent wala greeting..apprehensive about the amount, I just gave him.. He didn't say much took the note and was back to his business chopping the meat into little chunks..the sun shone at a distance, crowded bazaar, a few chattering around and a radio playing in next barber shop, everything was in sync for a normal day.

I did have a new haircut. I mustered courage to look into glass panes just to check whether strand of hair stood in place the barber had ordered it to.It was a giggles than two face which appeared on the other side. Before they could exchange a glance I turned around, pick up a old magazine and sat on the iron chair outside.two ladies walked in and than they ordered for mutton and I swallowed my bile when one said twenty rupees and another said fifteen rupees ...wasn't I uncomfortable with the idea of buying mutton for a hundred bucks.

The shop keeper signaled me , I will send these people first,I nodded. As I carefully watched with the corner of my eyes , he picked up four chunks of mutton wrapped it up and handed to the first one.. The second one , I better say the fifteen rupees one had started her story by than. She had to cook a nice curry and he shook his head approvingly. He than packed three chunks of mutton, as he handed her the packet she went on, brother how can I cook a meal with three chunks add some meat with fat , it will make the curry tasty.. With a little annoyance he obliged, here goes few chunks of fat.. He wrapped and handed her..with sigh of relief he turns back cutting meat I had ordered. The second one again calls aloud brother I have one more thing to ask, why don't you put some bones, without it the curry won't have a good taste.I was amused by the lady's sense of timing, it seemed as the shopkeeper wanted to send her soon , take these two bones , pay and leave I have customers waiting, he answered. There was a tinge of anger in his words now.

Finally the two walk to the counter, the first one hands her amount and now it was the second kept it on the counter . As he calls me I walk to the counter , pick the parcel and was about to leave, he again calls out to me call that lady who left. He stares at the amount she left on the table in disbelief after the bones and fat and mutton the amount paid .it was a ten rupee note and a one rupee coin. I could hear their argument for a long time. Later she convinced him somehow. The bargaining side of a female with a little pleading was working like magic.

I was amused by the whole episode and already crossing the door , when he comes again , this time it was the color of his face looked bleached. The shock had taken over his senses as he returns the ten rupee note to that lady and i have a look at it, it was all torn and in tatters . At-least the amount you gave...the voice trails off. Finally he couldn't manage to say but makes a sign you can pay the next time and today it is all free. I couldn't hold my laughter as he gives her back the ten rupees, turns the one rupee coin on either sides to see if in case it by heavens grace was genuine..

Being Human

2012-11-02T02:28:00.001-07:00

I strain my eyes to read the name etched in his hands.Was it Raju ,Ramu,Ramulu..The dark green ink of the tatoo cleverly disguises with veins in his hands. He looked so frail and fragile. The skin clung to the bones.. only thing which seemed full of life was the colorful shawl which he wrapped and the little sparkle in his eyes.

He sat in front a few twigs and dried leaves..he coughed and coughed blowing into the fire which had no regard for his age neither had concern for the little puffs of breath that was occasionally forced from his lungs. The fire slowly lit and he managed to boil some water to make coffee..

He pulls out a small pen knife, cuts the sachet of instant coffee powder and pours into the steel cup..I say sugar...he says I can't store here..ants around...

I look around a pair of trousers, one shirt and two vessels that's all in a room..It had windows with only grills. ..the door had no latch..neither the windows had panes..putting some twigs into the fire he says..it is almost twenty years he is staying here and alone..

Its a huge bungalow. The rusting grills meekly falls over the balcony..the peeling paint is no better..they all sing an ode to its past glory. The ivy on the parapet walls clings desperately...its seems as desperate as the house which longs for few inhabitants..a few cheers of joys..playing children..and some company for this old man...

The house is hidden from the main road...the owner of the house stays in a desert land. This old man stays all alone in the shed of the house. He gets a pay more than enough to be alive..so I ask him are you not scared..bored...my inquisitiveness turns interview...he had answers for everything...he had nothing that somebody could rob him off. He chuckles saying mosquitoes wouldn't get even a drop of blood from him. He manages to eat from a nearby canteen and rest of the time takes care of the plants around..

I was amazed he has been living like this for years.The sparkle in his eyes flickers as the wind plays with the fire..I had completely forgotten to give him the fruits I had brought..it was Eid and I knew he would never eat Biryani he took the whole bundle and choose two fruits from it a orange and a chickoo and gave back the rest..he told he could not eat apples neither could he store any fruit in the room. There were monkeys around and once they got a clue, they would raid his room every day..

After almost two weeks mom calls out to me..somebody at the door..I see the color of the shawl through the window. He would never go to anybodys house how come he is here..a little anxiety fills the air. . I open the door...with a frail hand, he hands over me two plants.Baaba these are chickoo plantlings...from the fruit you gave..plant it some were..he doesn't even wait for coffee and hurries back..

Its almost a year now..I go to my backyard..two chickoo plants stand there with a small fruit somewhere behind the leaves and dew drop sparkle....and it seems exactly the sparkle of his eyes...Life had Come a full circle..a small gesture of humanity was replaced with a gift of a lifetime..

With a mug of coffee...

2012-10-15T21:52:00.001-07:00

With a mug of coffee...

The chillness of air was hitting my face and than fragrance of coffee blooms which filled the air...I take a deep breath...with the closed eyes I could sense the serenity of the place... I opened my eyes to this new day, dusky lights shone dull behind the veil of mist.. There was something mystique, something warm... a sense of belonging filled in.

The winding lanes with huge trees, the pepper creepers, the coffee plants, plant fences , little tiled houses here and there ...wow Madikeri was always beautiful ...velvety greenness with little drops of dew, the mist almost pure and almost White remained a fathom far from human interference..they descended as endless bliss from heavens above..

I had walked a few minutes now, the sun was above the horizon...little rays of light played hide and seek and sometimes glistened through the fluttering leaves...the ears accustomed to the screeching, honking and the traffic was now accustoming itself to the pitter patter of rain drops, the melodious voice of singing birds, the little insects busy in conversation and also the croaking of frogs...

I had seen the smoke in front of the house. I knew it was Ammanna smoking.. As soon as he saw me he called out, Chitte see whose come ..again curses himself and calls for his daughter and son..they come and greet me, they have all grown up haven't they...Ammanna worked in our place for years now, he had a cycle which he used to make me sit and take for a ride.. Once while coming back from school we had found a huge jack fruit , I had asked him to carry it home.. Finally he decided to tie it up behind the seat and make me sit on it..

Only reaching home I had realised the jackfruit was all ripe, ripped apart and to my horror the gum was all over my uniform...Ammanna had applied kerosene , to coconut oil and Chitte had rubbed my uniform till it lost its colour.. The gum was stubborn and refused to go..the next few days till I got a new uniform I was fed up because my schoolmate wished me happy birthday every monday, thursday..As i was the only one with colour dress...

Ammanna brings a huge orange and gives me than he takes me to the shed. Kempi was still there. All our cows were brown red, and most of the time all were called as Kempi's . He told me the old kempi had died and this was the new one.. But Ammanna was excited about something else, he showed me the cycle standing next to the shed, he told his daughter was in high school and they had given her the cycle..Ammanna daughter in high school that was good news..your cycle...

Till I got an answer aunt had seen me and she had started calling out..

Be careful, the steps are slippery, there are leeches, it's muddy and the land is loose..I was in front of her..Before she started with the other few set of instructions...a breakfast of rice roti ,tender bamboo shoots curry..a huge mug of Coorg kaapi ... The aroma of the roasted coffee beans lingered around for quite sometime.. I had fallen into a huge slumber...

Later I learnt , Ammanna 's wife Chitte died drinking water in a marriage function , somebody had poisoned the water tank, in a family feud.. How sad.....Ammanna had taken into drinking...he lost his cycle and doesn't remember when and where ..the son was working in the fields too...

It was Chitte Akka as I called her ,who told me stories about mermaids..so there were days when we stood near the streams running besides the fields to catch little fishes with handkerchiefs..we filled bottle with little fishes and watch them grow..female fishes would definitely grown into mermaids and we were not supposed to watch them at odd hours... Chitte Akka with all confidence had confided the top secret..and when no mermaids appeared we concluded that either there was no female fish or some one sneaked under the cot to watch them...one day di, threw all bottles out saying that those fishes would never grows into mermaids rather start croaking because they were little tadpoles..:(

Then there stood the mango tree, our smuggling point.. The sisters in the neighborhood would bribe us to get into the kitchen and get them salt, chilli powder and tamarind..in return I used to get a rupee or two to buy ice candies..the deal was I would never say about them eating raw mangoes and they would never deliver the secret of me eating ice candies. Invariably during a fight I would get shouted for both crimes, sneaking into the kitchen and then buying candies ...after a few sorry's history would repeat..

When I am writing this I am almost back in Bangalore...and than I remembered the most important things I got from Madikeri. The day I left I had walked the winding lanes there was no lights, no vehicles too. Aunt had stood at the gate with flash lights.. I walked the lush green forest till I could get an auto.. Reached the bus stand in time.. Had a royal sleep and in the morning reached Bangalore. Reached the room and removed my sneakers to see all soaked in blood..there were blood stains all over my feet.. There was no cut or large wound.. Then what..OMG.. I just tapped the shoes lightly on the floor .. To my horror, few souvenir' s of Madikeri trip, rolled. Out...

"Four well fed rounded plump leeches!!! "

Up in the Stars

2012-10-10T23:00:00.004-07:00

Up in the Stars

I could hear a few people chattering far away... The compound must have been a notorious one it had knocked some bricks down. It seemed a toothless lady and the gaps exposed bright light or the dark smoke.some people who had camped were making food. The flames grew at times and it seemed a dark night was suddenly bejeweled. the dark background, With various shades of gold , yellow and orange... Sparkles around ...the fire was flirting with the night..the chirping crickets, croaking frogs and even the eerie noise of the dark...but still there remained something unexplained...

It's a dark starry night. I sit uncomfortably on a wrought iron chair. The chair is firm, little patches of paint peeled and a little rust didn't change attitude of the chair..I later realised it was not the chair which made me uncomfortable but the army of mosquitoes buzzing around singing their blood sucking song..it seemed the peeled paint, the rust, intricate designs and the dust just were about to listen to my heart wrenching silence..

Two little pups sat on the concrete foundation which was not blessed to bear the burden of a wall..they too looked at the sky . I wondered whom they missed.I looked at the sky too, are all people who left us are somewhere there.. I wish so...the darkness of the night had put a blanket of gloom and embrace everything in invisible web of conversation.. A unsaid one ...

The huge nilgiri trees stood majestic ..it swayed with creamy White branches and dark patches of leaves. The leaves seemed as if black paint was smudged by an artist on haste.these were the farther end of my vision when I used to be in deep conversation my friends on phone. They used to pull my legs saying one day I would find a cross leg female sitting on the branche someday.. Today my eyes searched frantically.. I wanted to see something unfamiliar, hear something unusual.I wanted to shock my heart which always felt strong and egoistic..I wanted my heart to sense something else than i usually feel. A sense of adventure, a fear I wanted to conquer.somewhere my heart was numb, my warm breath could not lit up my mood . Somewhere in the stars some one was there...

The pups still sat there..they were four. Every morning they sat disciplined in front of the portico just as the door opened they would jump with joy. they waited for food and soon as something given for them, the father would jump for nowhere howl , scare the little pups and eat as much as it can.. The pups would show some annoyance squeal and let the father eat. Today the father was not to be seen ,they sat there still, looking at the stars with me..

Are these hungry, let me get them some biscuit, went inside brought some biscuits and bread slice and tossed it towards them.. The ate in a jiffy first few minutes, than they waited.. They were waiting for their father I guessed.again they ate.. Suddenly they turned ran a few metres sat there and started barking.. It didn't stop for quite sometime.. They came back nibbled some food and went near the rocks and stared barking.. Is it a snake...oh no.. I went inside to fetch the torch..

Came back, hurried to the place where the pups were .The pups father laid dead there .

.Two days later, I witness this amazing sight of affection . The four pups every day go to the place where the pa doggie' s body laid, they try waking it up. They play with it's tail, they push the rotting body around , pull its legs...the make every attempt to make the rotting fathers body stand up...the sight seemed so heart wrenching...it's simply pa get up...!!!

Days later I still look up the sky, I too miss so many people and pups also sit next to me looking at the stars... Is some one up there...????

Just remembered....

2012-08-29T21:44:00.001-07:00

Just remembered....

Life is such a mixed bag of memories.. When I turn back I see some which brings a spark of smile and some a few drops of tears on the corner of the eyes..these were the days I associated myself to teach a bunch of kids.. I was teaching them basic English..It was a foster home. Some had lost their parents and some had extremely poor condition at home they were forced to come here.but whatever their backgrounds they were a bunch of energetic, naughty young boys..always into some mischief..

There was one among them , whose name I cannot recollect.. He always smiled whatever I said..A was apple for him and than ,affu also... When ever I said a for apple, he repeated A for apple A for affu.. Initially I chided him then when it continued for quite sometime I asked him who affu was..he told she is my sis, so you miss her.. He started crying... Later when the class was over I called him asked him , so you want to go home play with affu..he nodded, affu is no more.. The next few lines disturbed me for the next few days.. I didn't understand how exactly all that happened neither was I in a mood to probe too much .. She had died in freezer when she got into one and somebody accidentally closed the door...when she went missing all searched for her everywhere except the box the small girl laid frozen to death. How on earth can somebody let such accidents occur...

There were more disturbing stories these guys told me, how one among cried and cried when ever he had to go home.. He was the youngest among the lot.. Incidentally his name was umar farooq. Shining bright eyes, round face chubby cheeks and adorable. He was quite all times but when he laughed he never stopped.. He never wanted to go home. He was 8 or so.. He worked in a garage before he came here.. So why do you cry , everybody jumps to go home...he said his mom died years back, his dad was married to another lady and she tortured him so much , there were days he would sleep under the vehicles in the garage just to avoid going home...so when holidays began when all wished to go home , he hid behind the door just praying no body came to pick him up and his prayers answered or his step mom willed... He was the only one left out.. So the next few holidays he was in our house...

This foster home had chickens and a few sheep . It was the kids who looked after them..so everything went on well for a few months.One fine morning the bhaisaab of the foster home comes, the chickens were missing.. Initially two were gone , than three and today the rest of them.he said.,..so is it he stray dogs.. Maybe.. Or somebody stole the chicken... The kids set in batches to find the chickens, by chance if they were hiding behind the bushes or so..so one guy comes out shouting it's the dogs . I found few feathers behind the bush..it took sometime to actually understand what happened with the chickens... For sure somebody had let it out...But who...

One find day , after the chickens were forgotten and the dog whichever had ate it internalized it to blood and bones... Then there were two guys who were eldest of the lot, 12 and 14 may be.. Caught smoking, caught bullying and then they were the brightest of the lot too.After lot of counseling they had changed..so the whole group turned obedient and disciplined after lot of love, warmth and care..These two guys come running one fine evening. Grasping for breath they start blabbering..no sheep in the shed. Had gone to put on the light and then we realized it's all empty.. Now the news spread all over the neighborhood ,they joined to search for the sheep ... These two guys 12 and 14 volunteered to search on the stretch of the road...no luck when everybody returned at eight or so... Somebody suggested that let's check the shed if somebody broke the gate . All rushed to the shed to see... The sheep were happily munching the grass and the number intact...

What was happening no body understood.. When were the sheep out... Who bought them in... Or how didn't those two see when they put on the lights...there were all here... Go call them,The warden said.. I offered to bring them...I went to their rooms, all the kids were either sleeping or making their beds... Where are those two, Who found the sheep missing... They have gone searching for the sheep...they answered... So now it was the two guys missing...the night had turned another adventure and headache on....After hours of searching we realized it not only the two young guys even their bags and stuffs missing... They had planned and escaped...

This Sunday is the second year after this batch joined, and there was programmes by students.. In had lost contact with the whole institution for quit sometime now...so when I got this invitation I was overwhelmed... Felicitation for one who had topped the class and the another was presiding over the function...and these names seemed quite familiar... So I just rushed to the foster home and two young guys were teaching the rest.... They stood and smiled... And recognised the smile... This was the same smile they had given me, just before they had offered to search the missing sheep...

To my best buddy...

2012-08-29T01:56:00.002-07:00

I want to write something
Bus yuin hi...
just like that..
Nothing comes to my mind
Kaise bhi...
So I write this
Aaise hi..
You crossed my life..
Bina bataye..
And then stayed ..
Bus yuin hi...
For all that you did
Bus aaise hi ,
kya bolu..
Anyways ..
You silently,
stood by my side..
watched me grow..
Was there every time..
Aaise ,waise , kaise , bhi..
So. So. So...
A big thanks...
Bus yuin hi...

To my best buddy...

One Night in The General Compartment

2012-08-27T22:43:00.002-07:00

Hyderabadi biryani melted in the mouth.. The flavour reached the nose and directly to the heart and brain.. It was finally washed down with a heavenly sip of irani chai. The trip and the whole hyderabad drama was coming to an end..after spending the weekend in hyderabad i was standing in kachiguda railway station to be back ..hopping into a train and than a good night sleep would have landed me in bangalore safe and sound.

It was boring .. I was hoping to have some fun some adventure. I thought of a big no to the usual compartment. Why not travel in the general compartment..life in between the aam admi would be total fun..truly indian compartment, buzzing with life, colours , chatting and of course home made food..A little apprehension, a little curiosity and loads of excitement I asked the ticket collector will I get a seat? With a heavy and spurious hyderabadi accent he had claimed " Bahut rehta mia''..the ticket was of 136 bucks, i placed 200 in his hand. He had a look of anguish or disdain I couldn't figure out.he returned back saying, bring 136 only otherwise no ticket.. Somehow explored all pockets, brought a few not at all wanted chocolates ,to total up to 136...when he handed the ticket, excited I walked toward platform no.3.

It was deserted, a kind of serenity prevailed.. The train slowly chugged into the platform..it was magnetic ..people joined the pace and they started accumulating..the number grew and grew. And then there was the heavily anticipated door in sight..there was a mad rush to get in..the closed door stood all serene and peaceful , it didn't budge , even when all fell over it, abused, cheered and shouted.. It was either dumb or deaf or both.. it was reaction less .Einstein was wrong this time..

It was a stampede.. The door was so stubborn and didn't move a bit and then the police came. The crowd was fluid, it was drawn into a line..the police disappeared so did the line, it was than within seconds a clump.The door opened.. God save my soul..my eyes searched for a place to sit.I had landed into the compartment without efforts .the only effort was to keep my hands and legs in place..they would been a part of some body's parcel..if not..

The lower berth was full within seconds..lifted my eyes to see the upper berth...one perfect cozy place in the corner.I sat there happily.and now the real Indian drama began..this compartment had a live wire connecting all funny bones..it sometimes triggered the wrong place and people fought as if they could kill each other with a missile of words .

Then there was this aunt who was restless.it seems the uncle next to her, her husband secretly wanted to shift her from the place next to him..at least he meant, let me travel in peace..and then he barges towards two guys, ask them to make place for her. Even though there was no place they meekly agreed .she made herself comfortable, and than complained of her leg cramps.. Straightened her legs and then herself and than she dozed off, with a heavy snore..the poor guys neither complained nor squealed when cornered, who wanted to fight with that uncle..

Then goes some body's china mobile set, screaming it's heart out..with all the shining lights it screeches out songs, OMG the lyrics were a mockery of decency and then the crunching sounds of eatables...then a few people shouting and gossipping..and few snores... Hell of lot of treat to the ears...it was simply the compartment didn't sleep

Amidst the whole circus, I manage to read a novel of Stephen king...read a few pages and then dozed of..the whole thing continued as a dream or so in my head.. Slept well, reached Bangalore safe . An auto to j.c nagar and everything fine, and walked towards an auto...the thought general compartment was not bad at all , what an experience...within minutes had reached the p.g.,reached to my pocket to pay the driver only to realize there was something missing...my wallet gone ...

Two packets of peanuts....

2012-08-27T02:03:00.000-07:00

Two packets of peanuts....

He was of a short stature, drooping eyes, well built...the colours sprayed on his usually faded shirt never attempted to lie, he was a painter or so..he smoked like a chimney and drank till he made drainage his home and his counter part she told her name was Geetamma at times and Rajmah..otherwise..she corrected it was not Rajamma whenever anyone called here so..the betel leaves she chewed stained her teeth dark red, which occasionally peeped out when she smiled...

   I don't know which religion they belonged. She sometimes got up early in the morning to collect firewood, blow her lungs out to put up a fire..I could hear her coughing even before the cocks crowed...she would warm water , so that he did ablution for Namaz..and then there were times both would get coconuts and Prasadas from the nearby temple.. The vermillion on the forehead red and bright, showed their devotion and nothing else...

   Babu is what we called him, whether drunk or not he had so many stories to say... He would come home ask for food , sit with the plate and speak to the chapati, curry bowl..and what not.. It was one day he came with a chicken it drooped and fell down when every time it was made to stand...
wondered why.. He slept in the portico that day with his chicken next to him and early morning we he was aright with his senses back asked him..what was it about the chicken... He explained that he knew the secret of getting more eggs out of the hen, a little booze and it gave two eggs he said..felt pity for the hen, told him he had a misconception ..he argued till he dropped..the last sentence was ask rajmah she knows...

  Babu was a very good painter. He earned good reputation by his work..he was a good human being too.. But when drunk he was no more human...it took lot of persuasion to change him...he quit drinking..Rajmah would frequent to our house to say thank u... She once cooked jowar roti with red chilli chicken curry.. I could dare to touch it was it the same drunk hen of double egg capacity...but the jowar roti was really good. Days went by Babu and Rajmah would come, sit hours together ,tell all their stories...Rajmah worked in the nearby garden for a pay of 65 rs a day...she would carry pot with half water and roam around the whole day chatting and gossiping..come home cook for Babu and sit in there veranda and chew betel leaves and narrate the whole day's story..

Every tuesday she would get the one green saree she had, dry cleaned and pressed from local shop.. Even though she spent three days wage on it, it didn't bother her much...and hair full of jasmine , forehead full of vermillion she would come and meet mom, she would bring a small packet of peanuts and give it to her.. She would refused money if given on that day.. She would say, give that to me some other day but not today..neither she took food or would drink tea..the turmeric in her face could never hide the happiness of that particular day..

It was around two weeks when we had returned from our native..
Rajmah was no where to be seen neither Babu.. Mom was so used to her coming home, we enquired..she had left to her village , another woman working with her had said..mom was sad for quit sometime..After a year or so, we had meet Babu, he was drunk ad usual and than there was no news of Rajmah...mom still wonders were is Rajamah now, dead or alive.. In her native or not...

It was years since we  cleaned our flower pots. Shifted a few pots, Mom found two packets lying in the debris.. just below the window... Sombody had dropped it down...we opened the packets to see, rajmah's tuesday peanuts...all stale and spoilt...mom couldnt stop crying ..

On a serious note...

2012-08-22T20:53:00.001-07:00

On a serious note...

'I hasten to laugh every time for the fear of being obliged to weep' ..How true..life doesn't always have humor in it..but we still laugh away things. In the winding journey of life, we encounter so many things, experience some, live some and forget some...and stick to some...when not feasible we just grumble, sometimes laugh till we go mad and sometimes when in disdain give a scorn... a totally bitter one..At the end of the day, no matter what ,the curve one the face should always be on the upper side, if not always on the brighter side..Beautiful , not so beautiful ,perfect, not so perfect, a smile offcourse...if not for self, for the world to see...

Pondering over life, it seems a big vaccum and everyday something springs up out of the blue...life is a gifts galore...gifts that we yearned for years, sometimes a wrong one, some a late one , some times our fantasies taking shape and sometimes our nightmares turning true..we live , grapple in the dark not knowing what comes next or love the way the journey is or simply try to catch the radiant path...light can be followed but how do we catch it....and this journey we collide with so many other souls some which make our journey beautiful, some tag along..and some why did we ever meet them..some others no choice ,walk along...

Its the hope which keeps us going, for some there is light at the end of the tunnel , for some this is just the test the results awaiting hereafter, for some grabbing all that comes along his life...what is life...we grow closer to death every day and life becomes more dearer, that even though we want to go to heaven but don't want to die..we run behind so many things. Materialistic world rules life and we gather in parks to laugh our heart out ...relations has become so weird we pour our heart out to any person on the friends list but wouldn't trust our own...

After happiness and than life.. Its the call for being a better human being that matters the most..how much does one has time to do this? when nobody can guarantee his life, when will we do it if not now.....we always keep that a part in a list 'later' or 'some other time'....how many seconds more will i live... The though humbles me...the me factor evaporates into thin air...only that thing that is left is a big question mark.. Have i done something worth while in life? have i been a part of somebody's smile today....?

“At the end of life we will not be judged by how many diplomas we have received, how much money we have made, how many great things we have done.
We will be judged by "I was hungry, and you gave me something to eat, I was naked and you clothed me. I was homeless, and you took me in.”
― Mother Teresa...

Colours of pain

2012-08-21T23:36:00.000-07:00

Colours of pain

Colours of pain..
Blue i write with;
Red that my eyes speak;
Or simply black..
Beneath my closed eyes..
Or is it colourless,
As they trickle down
Above all those muscles,
Which in sync make
A smile, a frown or just...
No emotions at all..
My heart speaks
A thousand words,
Much louder than silence
If only you could,
Stay to listen..
Colour red also had
All shades of grey...
Blood warm and vivid
Etched with memories..
Pain again ,
Deep down the soul..
If only it could speak.
Colours of pain..
Now all blank..
Blinded by tears ,
The world seems dim..
Things go blur..
When i strain to see
There are no colours left...

Bidar ,Eid and More....

2012-08-21T00:09:00.001-07:00

Bidar ,Eid and More....

It was already twilight ..not much of the clouds in the sky..the twinkling stars were happily jumping into the lime light from the black curtains...they seemed to be moving with every inch I moved..stopped and smiled when I did..the blessed crescent no where to be seen, if seen it would be a joyous occasion of eid... And bhaiya( brother) coming, it would be a marvelous get together...i was heading to Bidar..

I slept for long , the bus did stop sometimes..the jerks and squeals hadn't dared to bother me much...the bus moved faster but, it was at the turns she gracefully moved and mellowed...the male bus at the back would have fallen for her at an instant..thank god the names were written in such bright hues anyone could guess their gender.. The bus behind roared and grunted, rushed and emerged... They was so much masculinity as the name...

The sun was much above the horizon when I had reached home...these were the lanes we ruled...with a gang of another few naughty imps..how much of masti (fun) we had...broke window panes, climbed trees to collect all kinds of fruits fell and broke legs and hands and nose.. Entered home from the back door..bribed sis not to tell dad...finally limped around for a few weeks with a casting... Mom whose with with a teary eye would make all kinds of promise of not going near that tree again.. (which invariably descended out of my head after a few days..and to be reminded after i broke another limb..)

These were the familiar faces...the autowalas, the tall uncle who smoked, few people filling their pots with water, some sitting at that wooden bench which creaked and swayed..infront of the rusting grill of that big bunglow..they said it was haunted...but when we were kids we played hide and seek and never ever seen a ghost..:( and then comes the group at the nearby bhaisaab's shop.. Who knew everything from American presidential election to name of the local thug who was caught for stealing a chicken from the nearby farm...

Assalamualaikum...( peace be upon you) ...mom had called out to me..what a blessed face, just behind her stands my beloved sister , I answer their salaam( greeting) .it was such a wonderful feeling...the whole day rushed by without giving an account..sometimes I wanted the time to freeze.. Let me stay here some more time ...when I got up from the deep slumber I wad into i realised it was time to break fast...the last day of ramadhaan.. It was a momemt of joy because eid, the next day .. But ramadhan was a month which guarded our senses...pleasures..it was leaving us...the feeling left me sad...

It was fun , frolic , joy and happiness all over... Eid had been announced...laughter ,joy ,aroma of the delicious sweet and food filled the air..the women in all household had taken up the charge of experimenting their culinary skills..little kids jumped around, running from one house to another..it was just the beginning...with eid the next day the happiness would be escalated to unbound proportion...

A few words would not suffice, how divine it was to stand shoulder to shoulder and bow during the prayers..how i meet people after that, how many houses i hopped into, how many different versions of sheer kormas( a sweet dish) i tasted, how much eidi( money given by elders as eid gift) i got and how many calls i attended because people were compelled to call because messages were restricted..and how tasty and yummy the biryani and kababs were...

We wish eid by hugging the other person first one the right, again left and again right..it went on for sometime after prayers...wished all my friends standing near me and than moved to the other side where older bhaisaabs were standing, they didn't seem from an another generation because handsomely dressed in white , shimmers in their dress look bright and glossy and masked their age..I hugged one, his white beard told his age and when i hugged him i thought i should be careful, he is so frail but.... To my surprise he hugged me so tighty i felt the rib cage entangling with one another.. After a round of three i was shaken up...he said..jitna pyar hey wutna tight se hug karna..( your hug is proportionate to your love) i looked around it was thirty people more and all of them who loved me offcourse....

And at the end of it... I am worried about the bones in my rib cage...because their love was phenomenal...

I am a man and all that affects mankind concerns me... Bhagat Singh

2012-08-16T23:49:00.001-07:00

"I am a man and all that affects mankind concerns me..."
Bhagat Singh

She was a woman of forty or so...maybe thirty five and five years of woes...bright dark brown eyes with a hint of sorrow around her iris....the pupils darkest and hid some secrets in the abyss...The yellows and pinks in her dress coated by the dirty mud didn't mask it's past glory...the little mirrors here and there glittered silver and gold when she hurried with all her steps...The unique artwork on the dress faded , embroidery torn but was a relic in its own sense. She walked , pleaded ,begged...the queer looking kid made noises when she gestured....it looked as if it was in great pain..was it to the left hand, was it to the right but it was bandaged..the blood looked exactly like red ink smeared...or was it.....anyways she arrived from around the corner with that little baby who had start crying now...as the red signal fell. She banged car window panes, asking people to buy... To buy what...craning my neck out of the window....little souvenirs of independence day glittered ...the reflection was from the golden rim of the little flag...I meet more such people on the way...they look shabbily dressed, the children malnourished...they didn't exactly beg , they were doing work...selling things, balloons to toys to little trinkets...... They were literally begging people to buy....its all for a meagre amount of 20-25 bucks, after a whole day handwork and toil....i picked up a fruit and gave it to the baby, it smiled... And looked at its mom and started wailing.... The signal turned green....we zipped past the women , her child and later more such clones of her, with little tents on the footpath...here and there...the national flags on various vehicles flutters ......

This was on the morning of independence day.....

After two days

What a mayhem... Just two days after independence day i witness the replay of what happened decades back... Slightly minor version but fleeing people in thousands and thousands brought back the same old feel...the Indian in me didn't allow me to lay down quiet...when i am an Indian, it was time i stood as one... Called a few friends and headed towards the railway station...we went there almost fifteen of us....maddening crowd all panicked ,rushing into the train...the rumour of the Assamese being attacked was all spread and it was a conscious and decision to go and speak and help these north east Indian brothers... We stood there spoke to some , convinced some...but fear made nothing seep into their head...the eyes which had always a touch of warmth today had nothing left but sorrow, fear and anxiety...
In a jiffy we planned, brought some sheets wrote up some things... Got some print out stuck on our shirts and stood in a platform where people would see us..Assam , we love u...don't go....in Bangalore u are safe....Assam stay back...don't listen to rumours....we are with u....My cell rings for the hundredth time, i had never checked...later later....there was time to do all that.. A placard on my shirt...standing in the crowed railway station appealing...Assam, we are with you....nothing is going to happen...WE LOVE YOU.
Again my cell rings, my whole family had called ,it was my dad now. Umar where are you , what are you doing... The voice was not as joyful as it always was, caution , is he somewere watching me... Before i could say something, I realized they had seen me with the placard.......Don' t go Assam , we love you was all splashed all over the by the t.v news channels...I thought he would say get into the next Bidar train.. But Alhamdulila...he wasn't annoyed, be careful was the word he told when he bid Quda hafiz...
I stood there as an Indian as a human, if we couldn' t stop them at least show solidarity....you are a part of our country, we are there for you is all that they wanted to hear...after all a little fat beneath or an extra fold of the eyelids doesn't decide how less of Indians they are... Rumor mongers would have contently retired to their bed, creating a panic in the hearts of peace loving Assamese...it was a sad sight to witness, what a mayhem, what a chaos....what a rush ....what a stampede....how much of independence have we got, it kept coming back to me.... The crowd rushing towards the train ,what a terrible sight.......it was beyond my comprehension... This was two days after celebrating independence day...a 65 old one.....

A page from memory.....

2012-08-15T20:46:00.005-07:00

A page from memory.....

On a lazy Monday afternoon , sun almost hidden behind cottony fluffy clouds, i sit on my study room chair...staring into the greenness, through the broken window...vast stretches of land embraced by broken compounds, hundreds of huge nilgiri trees swaying with the wind...seem simply in sync with the whole serene setting....every leaf seem to be on vibrating mode fluttering ,with myriad hues of green..whistling trees as i would love to call them had their own stories as my pile of books...
   Always wanted to guess the number of silver fish , who cozied up among the books the inches of dust collected since i last dusted them..the huge pile i collected with all zeal to finish reading the first day i brought, sat there waiting to be picked... I stared at them almost blank , and they did the same...unsaid words and transcended the noble feelings, vast amount of knowledge wanting to descend into my hungry soul...
   Dried stains on the mugs of tea just tell the tale of time, i actually sat , stared and wondered where do i begin....which book would be blessed to have my companionship till the last page...again my gaze falls on the stones piled up outside, odding the rains and happily married to the mosses..they don't seemed to be bothered when they would be picked up to be a part of someones dreams, gleefully secured in a coat of cement and paint...
   so do my books.....mount Everest they don't seem so, rather arranged haphazardly , reminded me of antilla, Ambani's home...of all colours of all subjects...and of scaring sizes..always prayed someone send these books on a vacation and they come up with diet plans...blissfully aware of the fact four months for my exams , i shut my eyes...the whistling nilgiris had to subdue their voice to my pounding heart...where do i begin..one step at a time....one book at a time....the monster within me scares my dream, kills my time...diminishes my energy ...
   I don't know how long i slept on my chair, the clouds had broken into a drizzle... The sun had come out of its hiding, the nilgiris seemed fresh after a shower but the books stared at me as i left them last... Somebody had put a blanket on me were i slept, all my tea mugs were gone....i picked the cell to answer a call,then my mom walks in with her graceful smile, another piping cup of tea...I didn't want to disturb, you were studying the whole morning , wernt u? Have tea than read. And she disappears onto her daily chores...
   Books stared at me again.this time it wasn't blank, sitting and staring wont help ,they mocked...as hot tea descended down my gut i wondered whom am I deceiving...I had to read ,swallow , digest these books no matter how tasty they seem to be...the nilgiris swayed, this time being affirmative with me...whispering to to all its branches...i comfortably recline to my chair, with the book i decide to read...and through the windows i still can see the endless greenery, rays on the horizon...like my eternal dreams....:)

Perceptions.........

2012-08-13T21:17:00.000-07:00

Perceptions.........

Its six puppies two black, three brown and one mixed white and black, cuddled up and sleeping under the construction wall. There was something about them that made the setting much more than cute.... May be beautifully cute... They rubbed their face...coiled a little more snugly , the dainty little creatures closed eyes and the warmth oozed to the surroundings....they were into sweetest of dreams...

  I walked by without making the slightest sound...even then the little ears shook and the one with black and white spots had opened its eyes to the new day... I walked fast not wanting to disturb them.... There was a beautiful day waiting for me...time zipped by ...it was evening passing through the same place i remembered the puppies again...it was fun time they were jumping and hopping , barking and playing...the day hadn't diminished their cuteness..

Mediocre chores and a little this and a little that...and than comes the most precious part of the day, spending time in prayers...blessed month of Ramadan , the last few days spend in night prayers aptly rewarded... Its the time when the whole world sleeps and the believer spends his night asking for mercy...and happiness and success both here and thereafter...

i walked towards the place where i was supposed to meet my friends and.....in the darkest night hell broke loose...it was a stretch of a kilometre or so..the blanket of darkness spread all over with eerie creatures emerging at every corner... Grinding their teeth showing off their incisors and canines...howling staring and in groups of tens and fifteens...my heart skipped a beat every time they barged into my direction . It was not an intrusion from my side but the whole world mocked my loneliness and strength.. They could simply hop on me, tear me into pieces...rip me apart... My instincts asked me to keep walking...

   Run , scoot..simply disappear...everything came to my mind at once...it was almost a thousand dogs now , i had crossed a few without hurting their egos... Satisfied by my disguised cheekiness, they had allowed me walk by abusing the strength of my poor ear drums...and some mustered courage to scare me of my wits... Some female dogs( with utmost respect) were eve teased and assaulted...and their police system was as bad as ours...nobody mustered courage to shoo them off...after all they knew what was happening in the human world and aped it to the core...

It was the longest walk of my life...it had shoke me up... A pack of dogs waiting every second to pounce on me...and the thought of many little kids those who have been killed and injured by these stray dogs... sends a chill down my spine....
Few innocent puppies and group of ruffian hounds...as the cycle of time goes each replaces the other.. Like the morning and night of yesterday...

Today i cross the same lane... Those little puppies still there, sleeping peacefully bound by warmth and love....

Kurta, Pyjama and chicken work.....

2012-08-12T21:49:00.004-07:00

Kurta, Pyjama and chicken work.....

Fiddling with the phone..looking outside the window the sun shines bright, the traffic was yet to gain its momentum...the lazy Sunday morning yet to metamorphose into bustling energy cauldron... ..the only clue was chicken work... I had a mission to be accomplished...
   Various shades of white...pure white, dull white, whitest white...stain washed yet remained white...ivory and creamish white...nothing here remained as pure as white..Di,(what i call my sister as) I had called up...your sure...I will go for white...,she smilingly gave an affirmative answer...
   My thought process came to a halt abruptly,the bus had stopped...the doors opened with a creak and a growl..the dried up grease stared beneath the out of place leather beading...public transport.... Hmmmm...nothing much can be expected... Little efforts needed to get out of the bus like this...push and pull , I some how landed on the road intact...
   Rahul with his ever charming smile was waiting for me...known him from Bidar days... Was it his smile, was his innocence was it his modesty...something which made anybody like him at an instant...we walked together, hopped into a few shops. White chicken work Kurta...it was finally in front of me...a heavy white thread runs along the length and breadth of the cloth only to emerge as a stunning design... Sometimes only over the neck sometimes all over...it looked peaceful and in solace at every knot...little bridges and humps on this pure white cloth connected both body and soul...
   And than there were varities with tiny works, thin threads...flowery....abstract ones... I had ended calling up Di, one hundred times... Amused shopkeeper asks Rahul...is it his engagement...?..ROFL...:)) Was what Di texted when I had told her this... Finally I had picked up a white Kurta...it l looked manly and majestic , simple and nice....And of course with chicken work...( wonder why the name...)
Called Di, missioned accomplished...she had told to go shopping with her...I told I would manage and I did it...yes!!

So finally it was showtime...Di again looks at my kurta...and as nice as always she starts.... Omar i told you...come with me... You don't listen...who told you this is chicken work. This is HAKOOBA...

She smiles, mumbles and again saying I told you...continues with her cooking for iftiyaari.(dish to break the fast).

Tea and more......

2012-08-09T21:05:00.002-07:00

Tea and more......

Was is it to have bath in a royal pan of boiling water...today we are jumping in..a few dried leaves watching a royal caravan decided...chinese winds as naughty as there were just pushed these inside the pan... without a clue... Playing on the bubbles of boiling water , the hue of happiness comes out....the king and queen gather around to witness the frothing bubbling surprising golden liquid...a few leaves more added and a handful of sugar for the celebration, the aroma fills ,it it turns burnt brown.....voila ...tea is born....!!!

   With thousands years of history...tea becomes a ritual in half the indian homes today...and my encounters with tea doesnt become less of a drama as much as it was born...and during exams i have a gut feeling its tea which would ooze of my veins , having the exams the next i could not take the chance of puncturing my veins to test the hypothesis...by the way when i am sure, why need a test...

The malayali cheta( brother's) canteen just adjacent to our college hostel would always be our midnight hangout...accompanied by some lonely souls who have lost eternal sleep would invisibly accompany us...they neither drank tea nor did they pay bills...but they followed hide in the ghostly shadows walking to and forth to my room...and it was always their secret plot , the cheta at the canteen never gave me change...it was one little candy for every buck he was supposed to return...lost my sweet tooth years back the pile of candy's increased... Now when i went to tea it was a five rupee coin + a candy...if barter system works for him...why not me...even the spirits would have laughed their brains out...

It was the days my cycle was there alive and kicking...long time since we three met for tea...the lonely roads was just a welcome change...the excitement of meeting musaib and kamran , my two bestest buddies..made the ride a joyfull one... We all met , chatted and just before we ordered for tea..each one waiting whose treating whom...Musaib is like umar today you pay...i, u pay kamran ...and he what...i havent bought my wallet...and this was in collision...in the middle of the night , umar , kamran and musaib stand in the front of a tea stall searching each others pocket...i don' t know how many glasses we would have washed if it was not for kamran's hundred bucks sitting cozily in the folds of a file ...

  My encounters with tea is as vivid as my encounters with civil service exams ..these were the times i had decided to write ias...i was making time between my busy schedule to run and attend coaching classes ...the dream to serve people...gives anyone with no fetish for money, a high... I had gone to bidar... An old bhaisaab whom i have a lot of respect towards walks towards me, takes me by hand, makes me sit , runs his hand over my hair and says..beta next time aate collector ban ke aana..( when you return to bidar next time come as a collector) i didnt know what to say... He buys me a tea...watches carefully till the last sip....and wishes me good luck till my head disappeared...This tea has till date has been one of the costliest one i have ever had...because it was bought at a cost of a dream...and paid with true love without adultration...

ata hai yad mujhko guzara hua zamana
wo baagh ki baharen wo sab ka chah-chahana....

Chai anyone??:)

On the crossing lane

2012-08-08T20:58:00.002-07:00

On the crossing lane

I wonder what their sense of urgency is all about....what secret plot is going on...even if something colossal is taking place their brains, it is as tiny as a fraction of a mustard ..they come they met say some royal secret , make a gesture totally understood and they run in the same invisible pathways...these ants are amazing creatures...

Pheromones ...chemicals aiding their communication...the little science left in me tells my brain this... i dont want to believe that...i do feel these are up to some colossal destruction...i have a hunch... these follow Lamark and one day they can uproot us... Wondering how.... Pull your chair , come near let me divulge their secrets...

Lamarkism , heard of giraffe and that story... He stated when need arises and we tend to use an organ of the body to the most ,it develops...like the long neck of giraffe , to reach the longest branches...and his other theory states when there is internal desire to develop the body increases in size...and now coming back to ants they use their body soooo much don't you think after generations they will have a huge body.... And going by his other theory, in the world of touch, will man be left with only a huge thumb and the body degenerated...( use grow...disuse degenerate...) and sometimes a long hand may be....internal urge to pick everything from the place we sit....

Even though this theory proven wrong..the ants attended only this class..they were in such urgency to pull us down they didn't attend the next class which spoke about darwinism and mutation...which ultimately gave a thumbs down to lamark's theory.. ..these ants hide in the creeks and folds of our house..just one day when grow huge,the walls would break apart and pull our houses on our heads..or if it was sugar which ran in their blood and they were really sweet ants, we could take classes from them on socialisation and soft skills...discipline and hard work...

I keep my hands in between their lanes..if lamarck was really true our life would be a sci-fi movie...they again come back the same lane ,stop at points... shake their antennas... Pass the message. Again round around hoarding their sugary fortunes...

Says the ant to the cricket: “I’m your servant and friend,
But we ants never borrow, we ants never lend.
Pray tell me, dear sir, did you lay nothing by
When the weather was warm?” Said the cricket, “Not I.
   My heart was so light
   That I sang day and night,
   For all nature looked gay.”
   “You sang, sir, you say?
Go then,” said the ant, “and sing winter away.”

Thus ending, he hastily lifted the wicket
And out of the door turned the poor little cricket.
Though this is a fable, the moral is good—
If you live without work, you must live without food.

On a Ramadhan day....

2012-08-07T22:46:00.003-07:00

On a Ramadhan day....

Nothing seems more familiar than the aroma of crisp fried samosas...walking through the streets of shivajinagar the euphoria of the holy month just seeps in...as children run around..rains play hide and seek half the crowd rushing to pray...and the very better half...mysterious, curious, clad beatifully in black just hop around...selecting the very best dresses for the D day...my ears go precautiously numb.. To the joyful sceams of kids,chattering of women , their husbands calling out their names and ofcourse...a smiling lad in front of all shops..literally pulling you inside...kya hona bhaisaab...?(what do you want brother)

Bidar, my town...the serene setting with the backdrop of forts and domes and minarets simply works as therapy to body and mind...... I wish i was there, i would have gone with mom, shopped with sis...watched her innocently stuff and gulp gupchups..( local name for gol gappas. or pani puri)...and finally met all my friends...ended the day with tahri, paaya, dalcha..moms always have magic in their hands...don't they...??

Somebody calls out.. Allah akal banthe kahan the mia....?(Wher were you when God was distributing wisdom ) oh yess , I am in the streets of shivajinagar and even though the question was for someone behind me..the answer just slipped my tongue...hyderabaad me haleem kaale ko tha...:)(was eating Haleem in Hyderabad) just as the name Haleem came out...the person burst into laughter and starting enquiring where exactly was Hyderabadi Haleem got in bangalore...( and for the one whose tastebuds are familiar with hyderabadi cuisine would bet on any amount what found here are not even their distant relatives ) and this becomes a favourite subject of debate in all our gourmet parties...

The day was a nice ..couple of weeks back i shifted from my hostel...searching a room, to shifting things to OMG...how exactly to cook... Wash clothes and in the rains ,dry them...everything posed issues bigger than of international importance...and lost my companion cycle added to my grief..among myraid confusions...The new office was a welcome change...all thanks to Almighty life seems settling now..walking in the nostalgic street i take a little bend i see the minaret of the masjid... The call for breaking the fast is heard... With a little prayer... I bite into the dates...another blessed day of fasting comes to an end...

The earth revolves without giving a clue...orange in the sky planning to disappear. time stands still..a kind of amnesia sets in, leaving the world behind...

I stand in the line...almost humble...when i bow down...a tear trickles down...forgive me... Make me pious...make me pure..

on the boulevard of broken dreams :)

2012-08-06T21:05:00.000-07:00

Standing on the terrace looking at the sky. The stars rightly aligned..the moon translucent behind the silvery clouds and pitter pattering rain drops ...what a nice time to start a blog....with a mug of the blessed tea..I pull chair , fold my legs to the right angles and what a delicate balancing act...the laptop sits gleefully waiting to enlightened by my touch...What do i start with....

Deep down, my cranium is filled with grief and my heart heavy..I lost her today...she was my faithful companion all these years in Bangalore..I had the ride of my life with her..and today she is no more..

Be it the traffic , the thickest of crowd i held her hand and she faithfully obliged..Be it a park..

The road side stalls she patiently waited for me to return..but today when i returned from office she was gone...I still can't comprehend what went wrong..did she elope...was she so sick of me ..was it a case of kidnap..whatever my cycle was gone...

Dried stains on the cup reminds how lost I was in thought Anna hazare after his colossal fight simply dropped it today.. as the breaking news flashes, my cycle lost is breaking my heart.. Corruption every were...I realize..Should I have bribed the boy at the parking lot to keep a watch over my cycle..it was free parking anyways...I should have...no no i shouldn't have...whatever she is gone as much as every one' s faith in this system and it' s inability to cope up with corruption..

Male chauvinism giving way, i feel hysterical both for the fact from tomorrow I plan to complain about my cycle to the police and will never bribe and hence all chances of her being found is eternally lost...and my tryst with destiny with auto drivers will start...oh no i wouldn't bribe them to take me to the place i want...

And now without her...

I walk a lonely road
The only one that I have ever known
Don't know where it goes
But it's home to me and I walk alone

I walk this empty street
On the Boulevard of Broken Dreams
When the city sleeps
And I'm the only one....