Strangers

An arms distance they lie
Close but not together
she and her pleasure

She recalls when she met him first
The moon was full
Peeping through... that tree of khamar
Which shed its leaves
To help him see through
They stood together
And looked at moon
For endless time
She and her pleasure

When she turned 18
It was him again
To evoke the shy in her
Which she became forever
He just looked at her
Wasn’t near but she presumed they were together
She went ahead becoming old
To grow Head strong and bold
For no reason they seem drifted
She and her pleasure

More she learnt more he resist
Without her knowledge they digressed
To stand alone in hope of reunion
Years apart they gone
She and her pleasure

Now they stand close
Looking at each other
Showing not even Slightest recognition
She and her pleasure...

Lost ..... lost forever ...
From each other....
She and her pleasure...

competition and fear

Competition and fear seem to be two driving forces that seem to be driving the humanity these days...
And my take on both was contrary to mass opinion and behavior.... And yet again I fail to comprehend why?

Do I face competition?.... that was the question.... and it forced me to ponder...
I don’t... I had never faced any competition...
There isn’t a specific reason why.... maybe I never had anything to prove ...
There wasn’t a substantial threat to my existence... maybe I was always accepted and celebrated.... all my peers were so close to my heart to have any substantial competition with them... all loved me so that I wished best for them even that wasn’t in my personal benefit...
I also wonder why I wasn’t much frightened (I guess I wasn’t frightened at all) when the terror struck our city...
My dear ones had very narrow escape ... the place I love as architect was shattered... I felt I was close to loose everything that I have and yet I am not scared... may be its true that I am not emotional... towards myself and others... maybe its true that this world doesn’t effect me... as much as it effects others...

May be I am too insane to be human... maybe I don’t value human existence

void of finality

void that is surrounded by mass
tells about the emptyness of complete
she breaths through these pockets
under the surround of those mighty forms
the tightness of the bond, finds its definition...
in the expression of the space
two entities share in a clasp
relations live on unsatisfied desires
without which they become complete
and the finality make them forgotton soon....

floral pants

She reached... home.... or so to say so.... slowly climbing those spick and span steps.... counting on each step.... gasping for strength... it was one of those days of year when she wish the air has more oxygen so a little of it can take her long.... on such days when she is short breath and pollen in air shows its strength... strange she feels how full grown human like her can be made to bow before the small particle like pollen... nature has strange ways to show every small or large object its place....

The final tread and she is there.... she saw A approaching.... smiling.... she smilled back.... hey what have you got.... this very moment.... she regained everything that was lost.... the vigour was back the spright was back and shining on her face.... (wonder how weakest of women jump on the very mention of shopping).
The show started.... a floral pants... big flowers printed on.... the maron top to go wid it.... and a burst of laughter from A.... she is puzzled whats wrong.... she has always worn these big flowers.... and these pants look beautiful.... but A has different ideas... “ my dear lady” A continues... “ you are short and its time you realise that big flowers dont suit you... besides that dont go wid you image and age... you look younger and funnier in those “ .... “oh i dont care” she replies...”i like those and thats it....” both smile in unison... know that they cannot change each other....

She climbs the bus with difficulties... the weather and pollen had been at their worst and she had to travel so suddenly.... no reservation anywhere... so the bus....
“Let’s take it.... this is also a challenge”... she tells herself and starts...
All eyes on her as she boards with difficulty... slowly .... try to hide her weak state and short breathes.... some 52 pairs of eyes scrutinize her as she make her way to the seat... first seat... reserved for ladies... and soon she sat she realised she is the only female on board.... and so she realised all on board are looking at every small part of her body as if they havent seen a female before... and also that she becomes a lesser human the moment she is recognised as woman... she become suddenly very conscious of what she wore....
And what she wore.... her floral pants... (They are so comfortable... she had to wear them)...

She covered herself with another layer of shawl to be sure her curves are fully covered and rescued from the winds that are making her wheeze.... she breathes with great difficulties... and soon forgets about.... the sea of eyes looking at her .... the alcohol soaked air.... the smell of gutakha, which works less as mouth freshner and more as intoxicator to the person having it and which irritates her with its strong smell... she draws in herself the wheater, the rattle of the bus, the chill in the air, all make her draw in herself and be away from the journey the destination and the surround....

She caugh now and then to reassure that she lives.... the bus keeps running on the ghats of this Gondwana terrain sometimes she seem to run fine and some other time she seem to digress....
The buswalas.... keep yelling... Jagadalpur.... Jagadalpur.... Jagadalpur.... she keeps reminding them it is kondagaon she wish to go so tell her when it comes.... they dont even seem to hear her... or simply pretend that they dont.... she gives up... her breathing gets heavier.... she cant talk more... not a word... she sinks in to the shawl again... deep.... “am i sleeping or ... i am awake... half asleep she.... knows she cant sleep.... she pulls out a pill from her bag... and with this pull a sweet aroma fills the environment.... she realises that the essential oil that her father blended for her to cure her Asthama.... she takes a whiff... sniffs it in... the oil in the form of vapor gets in to the lung covers a part of it.... reduces the swell and she is relieved for a second....temporary relief....

She puts the pill in to her ... and look for a greater comfort... nothing comes easy.... she starts to shake.... Ahh! The side effect.... nothing comes without a pricetag.... she smiles at herself and the situation she had put herself in... Trembling she sits on her seat trying not to show anyone the situation she was in.... no one should know... this night shall pass and i will be alive to face the great responsibility i took .... There are so many who wait for me... i shall live...

The bus sways suddenly and stops .... the naxalite naka they say.... everyone is asked to get out.... she slowly rose... covered herself again.... tighten the shawl around and gets down.... now everyone can see her.... even those who didn’t realize earlier that there is a lady traveling with them one such person was sitting just behind her... the naxal asks her to stand aloof... as he doesn’t wish to bother her.... he says aloud naxals have respect for women... he smiles she is too weak to smile at this moment.... the full moon night so beautiful goes hazy in her eyes... she shakes more visibly and the asthelene is at work... the chill in the air is at its best.... and she stood aloof of the mob of men.... they all do what the naxal says... the guy in his early twenties is commanding a big mob of around 50 men.... Men she laughs in her mind....

After the procedure is complete they were ask to board the bus again and the bus rattles again to the winding path that shines in this beautiful full moon night.... she despairs how she isn’t able to appreciate or react on anything that’s happening around her... Ahh! This isn’t me... I don’t wish to be this... she cries... but cries cant fight with the shivers that she is experiencing... she sits still and try to harmonies her breath.... slow ... and deep.... soon the medicine puts her to a state of half sleep state and she becomes unconscious of her state... at least for sometime....

In her dreams she feels something crawling on her body.... no not on the entire body... but something like trying to start crawling.... what is it.... she tries to identify.... (even in her dream she is inquisitive and aware) the creature that crawls feels familiar... how she isn’t able to see the creature.... only can feel it on her body .... oh it is on one of my side and it is starting to crawl from behind.... its long with many legs... her breath becomes shorter and shorter as she tries to look .... almost out of breath she is awakes suddenly.... and figure there is actually something which has crawled from behind to her breast and now is trying to locate her nipple.... she jumps... that which crawled was a hand of the person sitting on the seat just behind hers.... as she jumps and stands looking at the person behind..... she sees everyone on board in deep sleep.... including the person whose hand she found crawling over her body....

Filled with disgust.... she knew half of them are pretending it and at least 10-15 were witnessing the crime .... she has no evidence of.... something moves in her she feels like crying at high pitch .... but no she isn’t so feeble... she cant be... this isn’t her to step back at the time of action she stand on her seat and bends backwards to reach the guy on seat behind hers.... pulls him with his hair..... looks for his hand and twists his wrists with whatever force she could.... the guys starts yelling .... shouting.... for help.... some other also shout at her.... she pays no attention keeps beating him till she could and sits calmly after she is done .... as if nothing happens...
The mob follows her ... all shut their eyes to what happened.... she smiles in her mind.... now the guy on the seat behind hers sits shivering for the rest of the night....
A night which becomes a bright and shiny day as the bus approaches Kondagaon....
.... and she feels herself again in her floral print pants....

a dark grey

They say they look perfect together...
two of a kind hand in hand...
nobody asked her if she felt perfect with him
or if he saw her as perfect ....
he kept on saying he is perfect with or without her,
she didnt care if he isn’t perfect

she never believed in idea of perfection...
she would wish to be admired as anybody would
she did all the admiration and got none
assumed all admiration from him are silent
and accepted all those silent moments as admiration....
believed he knew only good of her....

he knew he is great cause she said so
he knew he could do great cause so the setting was
he knew he is admirable cause that’s the only way he knew
he knew she could be perfect... if only
she could dance like H.... laugh like A
walk like N and be a bit more professional like V

and thus spilled the beans...
he wouldnt know whats wrong...
she would never tell him
but for her he is long gone
cause she would ever dance, laugh,
walk, talk or be professional like anybody else but herself...

so she walks out alone... as herself...
even though its dark... as dark as the darkest grey
and him left behind mimicking endless greys
in illusion of white against a darker grey
cause ther are no whites or black
but endless shades of grey...

stumbled....

I found myself starring at her gait.... aimlessly without any recollection or cognition of what I was looking at and what she meant to be.... is she the same.... as she approached me....the thought lingered till it found pronunciation.... a profound one mixed with disapproval of what I was looking at..... But something told me she was the same....
The distinct smile.... distinctively different curl of those lips now disfigured still made a gesture which was so unique... yes she was the same girl i am acquainted with for over 5 months now....she who took me somewhere called her home,... treat me with happiness and laughter... almost out of the blue...and the blue faded with each passing day between us....
Is she the same her... whom I called this morning or it was her who called me... and I didn’t even realized what’s wrong... all I could get was...she wasn’t well....and she wish to see me urgently and immediately... I left home in hurry... dressed most peculiarly as i always do I looked out of place in the setting... the beggar joker persona I was making wasn’t apt to meet someone in pain... she told me there was a fight and also that she is hurt... but then it never occurred to me that the hurt is physical as well as much it was emotional....
And it was not the usual emotional disturb that a lady faces when center of her universe starts moving towards some other circle and she tries hard to bring it back to the center she assumes her own.... it was beyond the limit of her trying to bring the center back and had something to do with redefining the circle itself...
And did I get the hint earlier.... did I ever listen to the undertones of seemingly endless sessions of jokes and laughter... for reasons and for irrationality both... and didn’t we enjoy it all with all gusto... I wouldn’t take the credit away from her.... yes she was the one who made it happened... but question remains ... didn’t I realize this coming before....
Maybe when... she first came downstairs and peeped from far.... smiling and waving.... or when she first stood at the side of my drawing board looking at what I made and making intelligent remarks... even when she was cracking joke.... did I see it coming.... when she put that home up piece by piece.... every curtain... every object.... even every sunray approaching her home spelled her name.... did I see it coming when I saw a hanuman idol in the bedroom... and the careless remark that “icon are what we made of them ... so it doesn’t matter whether its hanuman or cupid which is placed there....” did I see it coming...
How could I not... see her crying through her jokes... yelling for help through her remarks and looking for my hand through her laughter.... wasn’t I also equally responsible for what I saw this morning... wasn’t I was involved in what happened last night... however distantly...

diurnation still

In her diurnation and sleep walk, somniloquied the name...how he tickled her existence... less she knew of herself till ....
as his lanugos brush her... and slowly he covers her as cloud.... and it poured...The shy in her lost the meaning when the day broke while she felt aroused in darkness of night.... and she rose up to a surcingle intact.