Monday, March 31, 2008
Thursday, March 27, 2008
The watch on his hand struck 11:30 pm.
The street was empty as was expected in any small town at this ungodly hour.
She felt a sharp prick at the back of her hand as a spirited mosquito plunged its sharp suckers into his soft skin and drank its full
The street light flickered and then pooof.., it was gone, plunging them into a pale pearly world, where the full moon was a great overflowing beacon and the stars its tiny companions..
A single furrow of sweat flowed down his leg as he prepared to strike the pedal on the shiny black bicycle. She clutched him around the waist, her breath coming out in scared whispers, as she balanced precariously on the wobbly carrier. He pushed his foot forward and struck the pedal nervously. The bicycle lurched a little and they whooped as they almost lost their balance. But then his feet were kicking the pedal faster and off they went, two little kids learning to ride a bike again. The bike gained speed, and the breeze flew through their hair sweeping out the fear and the nervousness. It started with a giggle and then turned into a full bodied laugh as his guffaaw joined her tinkle, dangerously shaking their fragile little ride. But there was no stopping them as they took a graceful curve around the park, zigzagging on the milky road, whistling up at the dancing stars. He began singing an old romantic number for her, she blushed and lowered her head to his shoulder shyly, hugging him tighter and giving him a little peck. He whispered something to her and then they were both laughing again, completing their little circle around the dark dense park.. they got off the bike. He took her hand and raised it gently to his lips, sighing "you know, ever since I met you I have wanted to ride a bicycle, with you in the back holding on to me just like this.. finally.." She smiled up at him in that way only people in the first throes of love smile and they walked hand in hand back to the gate.. two people radiating young love's innocent pink glow..
She is 45 and he is 49 and they have been married for over 22 years.. and after all these years their love has only grown younger. They are crazier about each other than many of my "madly-in-love " young friends.. They are the reason I am such a hopeless romantic 'coz they are the reason I believe that one day I'll love someone just as crazily and be loved just as much in return.. they are my parents...
PS: Congos dad for finally having fulfilled your long due wish and for making it so perfect for mom and thanks both of you for making me realize how important the little things in life are and how fulfilling it is to let go of fear and doubt and to give ourselves so wholly to someone else. I love you both more than I can ever tell you..
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
2. One truth in your life that haunts you every day?
3. If you were to be stranded on a desert island, who are the four blog buddies you would take alongside with you?
5. If you can have one dream to come true, what would it be?
I know a lot of people say "life is too short for regrets", but I think they are just being dishonest, I think its ok to have regrets, as long as you don't spend the rest of your life wallowing in them and thus turning it into one big fat regret
11. What are the requirements that you wish from your other half?
13. What is your ambition?
14. My Question: If you were given the chance to have one super power.. what would it be and why?
hmm.. here I am confused between the ability to fly so that I can travel far and wide and explore and feel free
or the ability to be invisible, so that I could observe everyone unnoticed.. I think i'll chose the first one
19 what touches you?
yup.. I am going home!!! will be back on sunday
last but far from the least we have Craziest and Gonecase's tag which goes like this:
I have to think of 7 random facts about me... hmmm.. now lets see.. just about everything about me is random so how the hell am I suppose to narrow it down to 7??? :|
chalo try karein
1) I absolutely love writing, nothing gives me more peace or pleasure
2)I love walking alone on my terrace barefoot, at night with just the moonlight.. sometimes I dance there and sometimes I talk to myself, pretend i am a princess or a witch or an ancient warrior.. its the best time of my day
3) I love Hot chocolate fudge and all kinds of dark chocolates... they make me go mmmmmmm.. :)
4) I am lazy to the point of being a sloth
5) I have discovered an all new passion--badminton which I try to play every evening, it gives me a mighty high and helps fill the otherwise empty evening hours.
6) I also enjoy painting with poster colours and gifting the results to my poor friends (coz i am arguably the world's worst painter)
7) I find tattoos on the back very very sexy ;)
as for tagging... hmmm... i tag maverick, rohit, anuj with the memoir tag
impressionist, craziest , gonecase, vandita and ankur with the questionairre tag
soup with the random facts tag
Saturday, March 15, 2008
She felt herself being lifted, high up like a log on a wave crest, left twirling there for what seemed like an eternity, before being washed over to the beach down at his feet. One moment, he was the master, and she his trusting slave, following every command in his touch as she danced to his tune and the next second, she was the unforgiving mistress, driving him mercilessly to the tempo of her absolute ownership.
Her skirt billowed around her, like a fan in full motion as he whirled her out… then wrapped snugly around her legs like the closed petals of a virgin rose, as in one swift motion he twisted her body in.. his hands moving to her waist as her fingertips landed on his shoulders and her toe-tips on his.
The music softened midway and they moved slowly, moulded together. Then, her fingertips slipped over his rippling shoulders and her body moved away from him, but still joined to him by the toes. She let herself hang there, over the abyss, her head thrown back, her hair almost touching the ground, only his hands tightened over her wrists keeping her from going over. And then, in a jiffy, as the music reached its pitch, he had whipped her back from the edge, back into a moving flowing swimming universe.
Their bodies met like two liquids meeting in a mighty splash and then receded into their own corners in the aftermath, as the energy between them, rippled them apart. And then, she was again revolving faster than she ever had, her feet spinning out from her still toe tips. Her arms passed through his hold, like satin flowing out a hole.. till her fingertips met his and the electricity coursing through them, made hers swirl in their wake..
She felt his hand let go and for a moment her blind feet staggered uncertainly… then his hands were at her waist again and the confidence flowed back into her, as he spun her around like clay on a spinning wheel, till she rose gracefully to the crescendo, like an elegant pot rising from the bowl of mud… her hands clasped high above her head. Then, as the universe around them came to a boom and the rhythm crumbled into a million stars raining down, she too crumpled, just as beautifully, to her knees like a ballerina’s final bow, with his hands holding hers above the crown of her lowered head…
As the last strains of the music died, she rose slowly, uncreasing her sweaty pajamas and opened her eyes.. coming back to the empty room around her, still except for the plain white curtains fluttering gently at her window….
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
"Kya baat hai maedaem ji rosy day hai ke aj??", the remark followed by raucous laughter made him turn in his overcrowded seat and crane his neck to look at the source of the commotion.
At first it was just the mammoth crush of bodies indistinguishable from each other, so often found in a crowded roadways bus. Then he saw it.. a slender hand rising up from amidst that falling circle of a loose maroon sleeve, a hand with long sculpted fingers, a hand meant to create art, a hand which was an art in itself, and in that was clutched the most beautiful rose he had ever seen. He could see the sun from the nearby window glinting on the cellophane sheet wrapped around the rose. He could see it slide like honey onto the smooth skin of the hand he couldn't take his eyes off. he had this sudden urge to taste the honey slithering down that hand, to catch it before it slid down to the circle of filth gathered around it. He became aware of the callous mirth on the faces surrounding the hand and the rose... his rose.. they were like weeds slowing crawling in around his rose, ready to drown it in their wicked canopy, to strangle his precious ruby into a piece of burnt coal.
The bus lurched to a stop. The hand disappeared under the fallen crowd, to emerge a minute later, twisted and harassed, but with its delicate cargo still safe. Something licked at the back of his head.. what was it the boys had said ..."rosy day...". His half closed eyes snapped back open with a sighing "Oh!", it indeed was rose day.. It wasn't his rose.. it was a rose that girl with the artist's hands was taking for a lover. But of course! the perfection of the softly enfolding petals, the deepness of the deepest red like the blush of young love, the protectiveness of the hand's stance, for who else but the truest lover. He sighed softly, to his surprise, and closed his eyes again letting the music from his headphones drown out the fishmarket sounds of the yellow and green bus, and to soften the immutable sense of disappointment he inexplicably felt at the realization.
He had dozed off without even realizing it. It was the feel of warm honey against his arm that woke him with a jolt. He saw the lips move, lips that rivaled and matched the rose to a T. He saw the other one of those pieces of art move up to discipline a stray snaking strand behind on ear, and then pointing towards his. "oh! I am sorry I err.. forgot to remove this.. sorry err.. I errr.. couldn't hear you", with an embarrassed grin he tucked the earphones out. "were you err.. saying something to me?".
She lowered her eyes slightly taking in the loose T-shirt with a nirvana logo, the baggy beige pants and the MP4 player with the headphones still hanging from it, almost reaching the ground, and she looked up and smiled slowly.."I was just wondering if you could help me put my bag in the carrier, I errr.. would have done it myself, but I really don't want to spoil this rose".. "Ya of course! "he said half heartedly getting up to lift her bag and putting it in the over head carrier with a louder than necessary thump. "By the way that's the most beautiful rose I have ever seen, You must have woken up real early to get one like that on rose day, and I saw how dearly you protected it there in that circle of rascals.." He said, lookin down into her eyes as he got ready to sit back " your boyfriend is a very lucky guy, I hope he knows it", he added rather wryly and quickly turned his face away from her, sitting down, to hide the unexpected expression that had risen out of no where in his eyes. What the hell was wrong with him?? Had he gone nuts? feeling jealous for someone he had barely met.. "phew!! get a life dude!" he said to himself.. "err.. boy friend?" She asked.. He could hear the embarrassed confusion in her voice.. "well, it is Rose day.. and you are taking this for your guy right? I mean err.. are you married? I am sorry its just that you don't look like it.. hey I really didn't mean to offend you lady..", he stuttered in a single stream. She shook her head from side to side slowly at his words, her hand reaching up to her hair again, to hide her embarressement, "no, no, U kind of have it all wrong, I don't have a boy friend and I am certainly not married..". "Then the rose...??" "Oh! this.. its for my mom, she is not well, so i decided to take this for her, it completely slipped my mind until those embarrassing comments by those guys by the door.. I mean.. if i had any idea today was rose day, I would never have made a fool of myself like this... " She laughed self consciously.. and he joined in with all his heart, he swore he saw the mist lifting from around him as he sank back in his seat with a smile on his face and a rose coloured twinkle in his eyes.. "so, what did you say your name was again?.."
he asked, inclining his head towards the girl with hands like art that held a rose just as perfect..
This had been lying unfinished in my drafts since rose day, I loved the concept, but I am not entirely satisfied with the end result.. wish I could have done better justice to it. I invite any of you who would like to take it up to use the concept and come up with a better story.. do post it on your blog and leave the link in the comments.. take care
Saturday, March 8, 2008
A bubbling cauldron
a tightened screw
a pinch of imagination
in the dreamer's stew
a wonder in the making
or a living nightmare
its a mystery to be solved
with patience and care
So many things run through my head as think of this word:
A witch stirring a cauldron with a twisted handle
Dr. Jackyll working in his laboratory at his hideous creation.. Mr. Hyde
A faded picture of Einstein with his tongue out on a wrung out old white T-shirt
A cover-less copy of Sheldon's "Stranger In The Mirror" quickly stowed under the bed by shivering young hands
That hiccuping first swirl of Grey smoke from a best friend's cigarette
A rainbow coloured parachute lifting off a white beach with its cargo of closed eyes mumbled prayers and a pair of flying pigtails
A crumpled piece of torn paper from the back of a notebook with hurried scribbles of a first time poetess
Chemistry lab, with a whiff of that strangely alluring smell of hydrochloric acid
The bustle outside a Boards exam centre
The black dolphin on someone's soft brown skin
An unnoticed drop of orange on a plain white canvas sheet
The first trace of perfume on a smooth round neck
The tremble of uncertain feet on a brand new accelerator
The intoxicating smell of a blank checkbook's first check
The tingling memory of a first kiss
Sweaty palms before an interview panel
The guilty pangs over a faithful lie
The noisy intake of every soundless breath
The muted fizz of every spoken word
Experiments.. In the laboratory of life, every moment is an experiment, the results of some are instantaneous and others just continue long after we are gone..
Everything we are, everything we will be, every single thing we do... genius or fool.. criminal or saint, each is an experiment with the ingredients slightly varied, may be an extra turn to that bubbling broth or a an extra big pinch of that reddish brown powder..
PS:This is a result of the prompt on the sunday scribbles, something I came across while reading Veena's blog earlier today
Thursday, March 6, 2008
I hope you like it. I wish it had been happier, but its just facts i am putting here and no matter how much I might have wanted things to be otherwise, this is the way they are.
He came into our lives-----------------------------------------------it was a beautiful fantasy...
Alas, fantasies have a way of never coming true. When I went home this time, it was to find a disgruntled Gugu wagging his tail with the swing wrung out. His ears drooped all the time, and the only thing that floated in his dead pools of eyes was a strange never sleeping fear. And worst of all, he was all alone.
It was dad who told me what was wrong. Dad had become Gugu’s closest buddy, upon coming home from the ship, having taken over the job of feeding him every night and giving him tummy rubs with his foot every now and then, when mom wasn’t looking.
It turns out, the reason why our Gugu was wilting faster than a sunflower, was a big black dog who, like a dark evil phantom, had appeared in our lane, out of nowhere, a few days back and destroyed our gugu’s little dreamy universe. This goonda had scared our peace loving, if slightly cowardly Gugu, robbed him of his girl, hurt him in some kind of fight, taken away his territory along with all the delicious food, and was now terrorizing him left, right and centre. This fiery combination of heart break, pain and malnutrition was waltzing Gugu, at a rather alarming rate, back in time, making him that moaning rag who had turned up at our door about a year back.
The bitch it seems had been terrorized into leaving Gugu and going to the black dog, who would bully her no end. Gugu was of course heartbroken over her betrayal. The remorse she felt was obvious from the way she would sneak in to see Gugu, even though he refused to as much as acknowledge her presence. Most of the times, the dark phantom would appear out of nowhere and attack them both, sending Gugu scurrying off under the park bench and the bitch would be left to face the bully. But, she never stopped trying to communicate with Gugu.
I wonder what will happen to their little story. Would they ever be free of the goading black bully? Would Gugu ever forgive his love her little betrayal for survival? Would Gugu even be able to survive the emotional and physical upheaval he is being put through?
I don’t know. We continue to let him sleep at our door. Dad stands sentry while Gugu eats his nightly meal, to make sure the black guy doesn’t get at it. He still gives him his little tummy rubs. We all love him and try to cheer him up with little whistles or sweet songs. We all still worry about him and let him walk behind us. But most of all we miss the Gugu who would go prancing all around us, we miss watching him swagger around showing off his gal, we miss seeing them comfort each other, we miss their unborn puppies, but most of all, I miss that liquid smile in his shriveled black eyes.PS:guys don't forget to check out my new blog, which all about me and my feelings sherrydaily
A lot of people have told me that I don't really share anything directly personal on this blog and I think they are right. I too feel the need to do away with creative pieces and write something direct and simple sometimes. But I love the whole mood and theme of this blog and don't want to spoil it with personal posts. So I have decided to start a new blog which would have a daily post about just me and my feelings.
I hope it would help you know me better. But don't go looking for any imaginative coups or wordy stuff. Its just a place where I can put up my feet, lay back and relax in my white cushiony slippers at the end of the day, counting off the ups and downs.. swimming in a gravy of feelings, just my own.
So, here is where to get up close and personal with Sherry :) sherrydaily
PS: don't forget to read the post below, will surely put up the second part asap
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
(Pre-Script: I said i won't post anything till my net connection got back on its feet, but since that isn't showing any sign of happening and i was missing the pleasure I got from posting here more than I could handle, i am finally posting this from my slower-than-a-snail lab PC, trying not to catch the lab asse's eye (I am supposed to be running a java program I can't make head or tail of)
By the way, this piece is very close to my heart and since it is very long, I am going to post it in two parts.. This is the first one, the second would come up as soon as I can get my hands on a comp. with a net conn next.. take care and hope you like it.. Non-fictious post ahead: :) )
He came into our lives one wintery night, with droopy ears and empty eyes. His beige coat was turning a dirty grey in places and his open wounds were a muddy red in others.
It was his moaning whimpers that drew us out to where he was shivering and cowering near our big maroon gate. The sight was so piteous, that even my mother who is deadly afraid of dogs couldn’t stop herself from tsch tsching about his state, albeit from a distance. My golden soul of a sister turned her huge innocent puppy eyes towards mom and said “mumma, could I please give him some bread, nai to wo marr jayega ” . As was mom’s rule when it came to dogs, she was about to refuse, but at the precise moment he gave such a heart wrenching moan from across the gate that her heart melted and she told Vinci “jao de do, but dur se ok? Bilkul dur se.. chuna ni use”.. , and so it began, the little every day ritual of milk soaked bread slices thrown from across the wall at the adoptive dog Vinci had lovingly named Gugu. Muscle by muscle and inch by inch we saw his body grow, his ears rise and his eyes fill with light. Within a month or two he was strong enough to mark that area as his territory and to hold on to it. As it seemed was the rule among street dogs, specific areas of the streets were recognized as belonging to a particular dog and the dadas were ferocious in guarding their territories. Territory meant that all the food from all the houses in that part of the street went to that dog. Also, no other dog was allowed to wander let alone sleep in the dada’s area.
Much to my mother’s distress, Gugu had given in to following us around whenever we went for a walk. Every time my mom went for a walk and Gugu came so near so as to almost touch her ankle, she would turn around, scream, and make frenzied little attempts to shoo him away. I must say, it looked more like a funny dance to me than a shooing and inevitably caused me to giggle, which more than once got me a stern look followed by an angry silence from my mom. I on my part used to love the attention. It was almost like I had a pet dog, something I had wanted for as long as I can remember. Having him there, breathing down my ankle, the tip of his ear almost tickling the tiny hair on my leg, while I took my early morning vacation walks, gave me a feeling of being adored and even awed.
Now, as it happens, the other half of our street belonged to a bitch. So, every night as we took our after dinner walk, Gugu would accompany us till the middle of the street where the barking bitch would greet him with a snarl and send him scurrying back into his area.
He had taken to sleeping at our gate after his nightly meal and my mother, after a few failed attempts to shoo him away, finally caved in and allowed him this luxury. She even developed a kind of unprecedented non-touchy kind of affection for him. This went on for the whole of my vacation.
My vacations ended and my interactions with him reduced to a couple of nights every alternate week or so when I came home, but the welcome was always warm and his tail wagged just as ferociously as ever on seeing me.
Last winter, the bitch gave birth to 6 beautiful puppies, which became quite an attraction on her side of the street. I was smitten and spent hours photographing them with my cell, trying to make them come to me, and when mom was not looking, I even managed to tickle them and let them lick my toe.
The next month I came home to find that one by one, they had all succumbed to the bitter cold.Only the heartbroken bitch remained. May be it was her grief that made her lower her guard and little by little let Gugu come into her drab life. We saw them together, two lonely souls filling each other’s vaccum, comforting each other with a lick here, a paw there. One who had never known a family of his own, the other who had just lost her beautiful brood to Mother Nature’s icy quirk. We were happy our Gugu had finally settled down. There was a new spring to his cream paws, a sudden grace to the curve of his tail, a smart swagger to his little rounds. I could see the smile swimming in his watery eyes. May be in a few months, they’ll be a new set of puppies jumping around the lot, hiding behind the trees, digging out little flowers. Aaaaah our Gugu, a big daddy.. it was a beautiful fantasy.