Say it with pictures

Recently, bloggerville was taken by storm by Mez's post on crush dedications.

It gave people a chance to express how they felt about their fellow bloggers and earned mez a whooping (and well deserved, for coming up with such a brilliant idea) 269 comments :D

personally I thought it was a lot of fun and spiced up the blogger scene and also added a bit of intrigue to a lot of lives (what with all those guessing games with all the anonymous comments ;) ;) :D)

This post gave me an idea.. since I love using pictures and personally think a picture can sometimes say a lot more than we can ever put into words, so, I have come up with my own version of the crush dedication and with mez's permission(it being an extention of her idea) here it is:

if there is any message you want to send to any co-blogger...it doesn't have to be a crush dedication or even something nice.. could be that you are pissed off with someone.. feel free to leave absolutely any kind of message in the comments section of this post

the only thing is this time, use pictures to say what you want to say

Use google or any other source to search for the image you think suits your thoughts or views and leave the link along with the name and link of the blogger you wish to dedicate that image to in the comments section of this post

i'll forward the message to the recipient through their comment sections

of course it will be preferable if you leave your name, but if that makes you uncomfortable, feel free to leave an anonymous comment :)

and yes try to stick to images but if you want to supplement them with a few words you are most welcome

all in all, I hope we all enjoy this little adventure.. I am already soooooo excited

so I guess i'll just shut up and let the pictures do the talking :)

PS: sorry for having had to discontinue writing a daily post on my other blog.. but now I AM BACK WITH MY DAILY POSTS!! :)

Bicycle of life..

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..

Rosy day..

"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

Experiments...

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

Experiments...
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

Gugu (PART-II)...

Pre-script: Here it is finally, the second part of Gugu. For those who haven't read the first part, here is the link: Gugu (PART-I).
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.
take care

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

New Daily Blog

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
take care

PS: don't forget to read the post below, will surely put up the second part asap

A painter's gloves..

Pre-Script: Long short story ahead... so beware!!! :D

He shaded his eyes from the glaring sun with one hand, and used the other to dip his brush into the blinding white paint. He was suspended on the outside ledge of the highest story of The Royale, which at 40 stories would stand as the tallest building in Shellsville on its completion.
He looked down to three stories below, where a blue scarf with silver birds flew in the wind, and a dash of red gloves worked against the pristine white they created wherever they touched the wall.
As if sensing his warm fond gaze, she looked up to raise her hellcat black eyes to his soft Grey ones, their gazes met and relived the secret laughter they had shared from the first time they had met, 18 years ago, as toddlers on a construction site just like this.
He left the brush on the platform and cupped his hands around his mouth forming the words "meet me at the gate after the night shift, there is something I want to show you."
That night, after everyone had left, they slowly made their way back over the fence, and up to the top, on the rickety service ellivator, as it creaked and heaved up the inky sky, against the white mammoth they had been painting.
As they neared the fortieth floor, he slowly slipped her scarf off her hair and tied it on her eyes, gently. She didn't utter a word.. If there was one person she could trust dying, it was him. He put his hand on her waist next to where her beloved red and white painter's gloves hung, and slowly took her forward to the very edge of the grill less roof. He softly slipped the scarf off and let her look at her surprise. Her breath caught in her mouth. There, spread before her, was the whole city.. down on its knees in a courtesy to its queen. Yes, there she was the mistress of the world, at her feet... their feet. She turned to him then, and he saw the light in her eyes, thinking how like the night sky they looked.. the fathomless darkness with the twinkling stars.. her eyes..
that was the first time they kissed.
And later, as they lay there, wrapped in each other's arms, spent and glorious, tucked in the warm blue blanket of the midnight sky decorated with a million diamonds strewn in a careless pattern.. their eyes sharing their languid secret laugh, they knew what they had was more precious than the world spread out below them. "I am leaving tomorrow", she said into his chest "hmmm.." he murmured burying his nose to smell the secrets of her black hair. "I mean I am really leaving to make my fortune. I don't want to just make buildings any longer, I want to own them.." she went on.. "but"... "no, please, I know there are a lot of questions you want to ask.. answers I don't have, or may be just can't give.. just let me go.. please don't stop me.. let me follow my dreams" "Go.." he said as he moved down to plant a kiss on that high forehead. She reached up a little to where her overalls lay discarded and from its waist plucked out one half of her favourite pair of gloves.. "there keep these for me will ya? then i'll have to come back for it, if nothing else", and their eyes met.. his, a soft forgiving Grey, hers, a determined dreamy black and they laughed out aloud..

She laughed out again as she stood on the 40th floor of "The Royale", thinking of that night she had spent there 30 years ago. Today she owned this building, and thousands like it in a hundred different cities and in over 50 different countries. She was The Queen. It had taken a successful career, a broken marriage, a sense of dissatisfaction, 30 years of running away from God knows what and a hasty visit to New York the week before, to get her back here.
She thought of the day before. She had dressed in a black suit and with the old blue scarf with the silver birds, tied around her neck. She had built up the courage to go to his old house and knocked, standing there, waiting for the door to open, she had thought of what she might say...
A lady about her age and with soft Grey hair had opened the door. "err.. I just wanted to know if Mr. Todd Goodingson still lived here? " she had asked. The woman had looked her up and down, then turned to go back in, saying, "Wait right here now would ya, don't go away.. i'll be right back eh.." She had stood there at the door for 5 minutes.. wondering, anticipating, fearing.. The Grey haired woman had returned with something clutched to her heart, which she held out to her as she reached the door.. It was a frayed old red and white painting glove.. "He always said, you would come back.. ya loved that glove too much not to.. he used to say.." and they had both smiled..
She felt the breeze play with her scarf, unfurling it in little circles. Her soft hair got whipped about her face bringing her back to the present.
As she clutched the glove pair in her trembling hands, she could almost feel his nose burrowing into her hair taking in her scent, could hear his laughter calling out to hers, bubbling in return.. She swung her legs around the protective grill to reach to the other side and in that last moment as she let the railing go.. as she heard the whoosh of the wind, she outran.. as she saw the Grey of the ground rushing up to hug her.. Grey like that of his soft enveloping eyes..
she felt no fear.. she felt no ties.. she felt no pain..
she was free at last..
free of regrets and games.. free of guilt and nightmares.. free of dreams and unfulfilled desires.. free of the weight of freedom itself.. and free at last of pain and the cancer her doctors at New York had told her, had eaten her body through..
And as she met her kingdom in that royal clash.. the gloves hanging high up on the parapet, gave a tiny flutter, as if paying one last salute to the great queen and her hearty king.

PS: hey everybody.. this above was my first ever attempt at a short story.. Its very amateurish.. but I hope you like it

Life...

The Diver...

I looked across the rippling green sea, with something of a mixture of awe and dread.
After all, it was my first experience of deep sea diving, I didn't know what to expect below the slithering surface. My little boat rocked from side to side with each wave that broke against it. I stood under the hot sun watching it play with the sea, tripping its light on it and making it look like a beautiful green floor, on which buckets, of shining green emeralds and the whitest pearls, spilled and filled repeatedly. I was mesmerized to the degree that i did not hear my instructor screaming at me to get ready to jump.
As I put the oxygen mask over my face and got into my black and maroon diver's suit, I had this sudden feeling of being trapped. I had to fight a strong urge to peel that second skin off me and to remove that mask and throw it far across the waiting ocean.
I lowered my legs slowly into the ocean, it came lapping up for me, as if waiting hungrily for its latest morsel of food. It was an unnerving thought and didn't help the baby dinosaurs galloping in my stomach. I almost panicked as my head started to go below the surface, and even though i was tied safely to the boat by a long strong rope, it was scary.
But the moment i was below the water, it was like, a kind of peace stole over me. All voices from the world above ceased to exist. The base of the boat was a fuzzy shadow overhead. It was like being in a womb again, with my rope being the umbilical cord, and the ocean, the nourishing protecting liquid all around me. And as I slowly moved forward, lower and lower into that labyrinth, as the sun grew dimmer and dimmer, till it was no different from a pale moon out in some starless night, my fear grew lesser , and my safety completer. I felt free, free to explore, to see with my goggled eyes, a world that seemed more my own than the one I had left behind, to touch with my gloved hands, the sights more exotic than i had ever imagined. Suddenly I felt a slight ticklish feeling near my right leg. I quickly turned around, as the illusion broke and fear returned with full force. But it was only a school of beautiful tiny orange fish, that had brushed my leg. The safety had returned, but the fear remained, to mock me. I could feel the pressure of the sea mounting above me, I could hear the distant muffled roar of waves.
As it grew darker still, I switched on the light attached on my head, and it opened to me the mysteries that lay there quietly, or moved about swiftly. I saw long green grass like plants with huge slithery leaves to my left. To my right was a school of purple and silver fish, trying to get away from me and my intruding light, as quickly as possible. Below me I could see many an outcropping of rock, shaped into little caves. Strange bubbles were coming out of tiny openings in the rocks, accompanied by low rumblings, giving them the appearance of a huge monster sleeping and snoring away to glory.
A little to my front, I saw tiny sea horses, and a number of different creatures, of every shape, size and colour, I had ever imagined.

A little further on I could see the floor falling off steeply, like an undersea water-fall.
It was like a separate world here, with its own mountains, volcanoes, springs, rivers, ditches and what not.. only the atmosphere was water instead of air. And it was beautiful. The dim lighting gave it a soft romantic look and the semi-darkness blurred the shapes all around giving rise to new species in my mind. The moving water shaped and unshaped everything in its wake and gave the illusion of a universe in the making.

I was lost in the beauty of the moment, breathing in the solitude, tasting the bittersweet taste of freedom, testing myself under pressure, all the while, with a million different thoughts running through my head, like the billions of colourful fish, that zigzagged all around me like lightening, with a splash of colour.
Just when I thought i could live the rest of my life suspended in that living saline world of shadows, I felt a sharp pull on the rope, tied around my waste. That was it, time to rise from the womb and face the world outside. I felt dread at the very thought of it. How would i ever be able to face the chaos of the world above after having seen the dynamic order of this underworld? How could i survive the noise of a million voices when I had experienced the seductive silence hidden below a million roaring waves?

No! just let me be, let me lie in my comfort, in this soft rocking cradle, which was making me dizzy, putting me to sleep. I wanted to cut away the cord that held me to them and sink to the very depths of this kingdom of dreams. There was a sharper pull. I realized I had stopped moving up. They were pulling me out, they were forcing me to quit my sanctuary. I wanted to scream and struggle, but something deep and primitive within me stopped me from doing that. I knew I had to go out and fight it. It was in those moments, just before I hit the surface and rose out onto the boat, that I realized what a baby about to be born feels.. what fear, what reluctance, what sadness, and yet that something in us, more powerful than all these things, is there to make sure we come out into a world waiting for us to tumble head-first into it.
I collapsed onto the deck of the boat with exhaustion. It was not until I had come out, had I realized how much the sea had tired me, how it had sapped me, how it had robbed me of my sense of direction, of light, of my very senses
I recovered my strength and my senses, a couple of hours and a hearty meal later, but what I gained in those moments in that dreamy exotic land shall stay in my mind and heart for ever, the taste never to be lost, the touch never to be confused, the sights never to be forgotten and the silence never to be unheard.

PS: I have been to sea n number of times, but I have never gone diving, so this is a purely imaginative post, hence, forgive any discrepancies as to the actual experience. To be honest, a month back I watched a movie called "Bridge to Terabithia", in which this girl writes an essay about going scuba diving and gets the first prize describing it, without ever having gone scuba diving. This got me thinking and I wrote this, though my description and take on it is entirely different from her's.

PPS: I am going home for over a week for a vacation. So, won't be able to write any new posts over the next few days.

lucky lips oh yeah!! mmm.... :D :D

hai rama rama ho.. hai more rama.. dil me macha hai kyuuu, koi hungama?
haan ayega koi baahon me leke choomeinga mere ye lucky lips
aye haye.. aha aha aha
aye haiii..

Lol.. well today i was just simply crazy me (for a change ;))

I danced on my bed on "lucky lips" (trust me, my dance on this particular song is legendary in the hostel :D) and had an absolute blast, even though my bed has been creaking rather ominously ever since.. :sigh:

and it didn't stop there, i actually went on to dance on the road, before my friend managed to pull me into the car.. yes i did mention i was crazy

aaah.. there's more.. I sang "turn me on" by KEVIN LYTTLE , completely out of sync, at the top of my voice, with the headphones glued to my ears(so that i couldn't hear everyone else abusing me and telling me to shut up ;) :D)

watched a no-brainer of a movie, but enjoyed myself thoroughly.. was the first time in ages that i spent some no-politics, no-hidden attacks kind of time with my friends.. it is times like these that make me realize, why despite of everything we have gone through, we are all still together..

enjoyed a surprise two-minute-drizzle, right in the middle of the freezing cold..

basically had a for-no-reasons-whatsoever-fun-day

And right now, i just feel alive, comfortable in my own skin for a change, not hiding behind some fantasy for once...
not that i have anything against this little dream bubble that i have created here :) ,
but its just that once in a while its good to be just me..

Well, I guess i don't have any dreams or stories to share with you today.. not my usual kind of post, but somehow just wanted to share this here

of moist lips and smiling tunes
of dancing on the bed and acting like loons
of friendship and its delicate treasures
of life and its precious pleasures

PS: By the way, I can bet anything that no one can do that rotating-hand-and-hip step of lucky lips better than I do :D

Dying dance

The soles which had once supported a pair of soft padded feet, are now all worn out and falling off in places.

The once soft satin ribbons, which had wound themselves round legs, softer than silk, are now all ragged and faded.

The shoes, that had once graced brightly lit halls and glided over waxed wooden floors, are today just an old pair of ballet slippers lying neglected in the darkness of a rough unpainted attic.

The memory of every swish and turn they had taken, the magic with which they had once danced is getting cloudy with time.

The applause, which they had come to take for granted, has been replaced by the silence of a forgotten anonymity.

They have come to the point where they fear they may never dance again, and the very thought of it adds another wrinkle to their shredded satin.
They burn with the desire to climb out of their dusty forgotten grave, to face the archlights once again, to move once more like fluid silk across the shining wooden floor, to swish and turn and to take everyone's breath away..
But even as these thoughts slither down their blue roughened surface, they know, that even if they get a chance, they wouldn't be able to hold up, would stumble and make a fool of themselves for the world to see.
They can almost hear the cold cackle of the spectators, witnessing their fall from glory, can almost see the cruel eyes staring at them as they fumbled..

May be some desires are better left to simmer into nothingness.. some lives are better doomed to a dark existence..
So they continue to lie in their little unnoticed corner, forgotten.. fading some more.. dying some more..

In The Park

The green grass is parted in places to reveal the upturned moist brown soil, where it had been pulled out by unseeing hands.
The tree in the corner is swaying to its own rhythm, swinging its arms around, shaking its head from side to side like one of those stoned standing babas of Shantaram's Mumbai.
The isolation of the small triangular area within its cream, cracked, vine-covered walls, mounted with green grills, is almost complete.
The sound of drills and the shouts of workers pierces the wind which carries it, and yet, in its own way, the silence here feels undisturbed. Moments ago it had seemed almost oppressive, but now it has grown to being a silent companion.
The sun is like a big lamp wrapped in white fleece, so that its light is coming out in a warm glow rather than a piercing stare. Its rays feel like a friend wrapping himself around you in a comforting hug, drawing out your heart's sorrow with each passing minute and destroying it with the warmth of the embrace.
The wind is not freezing, in fact it is a little too warm for a cold winter day, playing with hair, twirling a stray black strand around its playful finger, chasing a few more out of the already loose braid.
The bags strewn in little heaps on the ground are an indicator of intruders that have been and soon would be again.
The empty bottle of Pepsi lying like an alien on the grass is a quiet reminder of the game of truth-truth played there a few minutes ago...aaah truth.. a phenomenon often a lot trickier than its infamous counterpart.. a lie.
The bottle was a witness to the games people had played, games far deeper than the apparent children's play they had been making. It had felt the emotions that had been like the acrid smell of burning plastic in the serenity of that park, had tasted the sour taste of concealed hostility and silent attacks.. had smelled the bittersweet stink of politics...

There are voices calling out.. the intruders are back.."bache.. chal uth wahin khate hain paranthe yahan uthake lane padenge"... "kiddo, we'll have the paranthas there itself, else we'll have to carry them to this place"
time to pick the backpack.. say a hasty goodbye to my silent companion, as the sounds from without strangle it again.. put the mask back in place.. flash that false smile.. and loose honesty amidst the everyday pretense of life..

flying without wings..

Today.. i was a big fat red balloon...
there i go rising higher and higher, tugging at my long loose string...
plunging low and then whistling back up with a big whoooshhhhh..

:wow:
now that was fun!!!

and what was that little tingle in my stomach.. was that just the gas which that little man, with tattered clothes and that big colorful tattered turban, filled me out with or was it that mysterious feeling they call happiness?

hmmm.. i don't know.. whatever it was.. it was making me literally float on the clouds with dreamy eyes and a light head(well i guess that is the usual state of 'head' for a big fat balloon :D but still.. it felt great :) )

I know all it would take is a tiny prick to send me swooshing off to an early death and if i survive that , then the air would just waltz out of me little by little and in a few days all that would be left of me would be a drab, shriveled out, dirty little piece of rubber..
but why spoil my bounce today by worrying about what i might be tomorrow eh?

so off i go again, dancing and dribbling...laughing away to glory as i swing my white string in a tango, with the wind drumming a steady beat.. carefree with my face lifted to the dizzying sun..
today i fly without wings..


PS: hey folks! Sorry for breaking my tradition of a post a day, but my net conn it seems was on a vacation (zonked out!! :( ).. but now i am back(hopefully) with a little parcel of my life and dreams each day.

automatic :D

Hmmm... so what was I today...??

Today, I was a little black and yellow auto-rikshaw going down the bumpy road on my three sturdy wheels..

There i go scaring away all those big fat shiny cars in my way, with my grrrhhh grrrhhhh putt putt grrrrhhh putt grrhhhh...!!!
Did you see them squeal and run right out of the way..??
aaaah.. its some mighty roar i have, you see :D

And how could anyone have missed my royal black wings, as they billowed out on either side of me with each gust of wind, welcoming the icy cold wind inside, like a man invites a new breath into his body, to cleanse out the staleness left by the last

So off i went, roaming from dawn to dusk.. guzzling down the igniting tempting diesel, whenever my spirits were low.. going from one end of the city to the other..

Started off my day with the smelling stinking slums, with their open gutters and bumpy roads, with more potholes than asphalt on them. :sigh: What a pain in the axles they gave me :sigh:
And the kids in these areas... ufff the parents have neither the money to send them to school nor the time to look after them.. and all they do all day, is run from one end of the road to the other..
One of these little things almost came under me today.. thank God!! I had gotten new brakes a couple of days back.. else it would have been one kid less on that street, not that the rest would have remembered him for more than a week. But who is to blame them.. they are taught that life is tough and losses are just too regular a part of it, so they learn to live with them at a very young age..

Well, coming back to my excursions today..
So i somehow managed to get out of the slime of the city, without much slime on my shiny black bumpers, and headed towards the other end.. the road of malls, with its high rise buildings and multi-block malls, with neon displays and bright lights. Some of the buildings, i have heard, have something called flats, where men live. I have seen them sometimes, peeping out of the hanging tongues of their flats. I think i heard someone call these tongues balconies. Anyway, i zipped along, on the road, which was smooth as butter, competing with long sleek cars and fast gleaming bikes.. the best part of this road was, of course, that it had many many red lights which gave me ample rest and a chance to look at the beautiful flats on either side... but somehow these lights always made my customers very grumpy.. i don't understand why they don't appreciate the chance for a breather...

So just like this, i travelled the city, with the wind in my wings and a fire in my engine.. cruising along, taking my passengers a little further in the ride of their lives.

It was fun watching my shadow run behind me to catch up and to watch the road slide right under me, like life slides by never to be lived again it seems, only to be revisited the very next day, with some new passenger in the backseat and a new song playing on the FM...

PS: took this picture myself, of a moving auto from a moving car

The white plastic purse

I lay today, buried in my quilt with angry tears running down my flushed cheeks... raging like i had countless times before at my non-understanding parents
thinking how they have never understood me
how they have always wanted me to live their life rather my own..
forever saddling me in chains..
taking away my right to a life...
the right to take my own decisions and make my own mistakes..
crying out my frustration hating them for never knowing what i really want and what are the things that are important to me..

and through these tears, rose before my eyes, i don't know from where.. a long forgotten image..

a little white plastic purse.. with a layer of deep blue gelly water swimming from side to side in its outer jacket.. i could have sworn the tiny yellow and red fish bobbing in and out of the stardust tinged waves were as real as you and me.. and seems like a couple of stars had taken a mighty fall and landed in the shimmering mini sea to give the little fish company..

and just like that, i was back in class 1 waiting with bated breath for my first ever school trip.. a one day excursion to a nearby picnic spot "The Bombay Picnic Spot". No no it wasn't anywhere near Mumbai, the city of dreams.. but for a 5 year old, who lived in a small town, which took 15 minutes to go from one end to the other, it was dreamland all right.
I had been going there for years, ever since i was a baby and it undoubtedly was my favourite place in all the world.
But that was not what had kept me awake the whole of the night before.
It was the fact that i was going there on my own without my parents to look after me. of course, the teachers would be there, but still.. How proud i was, just thinking about going up to the ice-cream man, in the bright orange and white uniform, all on my own and getting myself a softy. How many times had i rehearsed it in my head as i lay there in the dark...
watching as the smiling softy wala bhai took an orange cone from the tall cone building by his side.. as he pushed the liver on the big steel machine.. i could feel the vibrations from the giant and watch as the soft snow white cream swirled out of its tiny mouth in that single fluid motion and settled into the cone, forming a perfect inverted spiral...
aaaah and yes, for the first time, i would be handling my own money, a full 100 rupees.. at that time it had seemed like a king's ransom.
I had been rehearsing my favourite songs for a week now 'coz ma'am said there would be singing in the bus.. aah i couldn't wait to get on that wondrous white bus

but what was that? that feeling in the pit of the stomach?
was it fear?
what if i made a fool of myself in front of the whole class?
oh! i could almost hear them all laughing at me now.. could see the look of disappointment on Seema ma'am's face.
how would i ever go back to school with that?
i was petrified.
i didn't want to go on that stupid trip
the next morning brought fresh terrors
what should i say to mummy so she won't make me go?
mummy... she had been bustling up and down since early morning, as excited as i had been.. packing my bag.. making sure i had everything.. dividing my money into small parts and putting them all in different places.. telling me what to do and what not
but i wasn't really listening.. i was imagining the disaster that lay before me.
she suddenly stopped talking.. had i said something aloud?
no i was sure i hadn't..
but she just stood there looking at me, and then took me silently in her arms and told me not to worry, that everything would be fine that no one would laugh at me and it would be the best trip i had ever had.. that no matter what she loved me and would always do
and standing there in her arms then, silently feeling the safety pin poking into my chest as the hanky it held in place was crushed between us, i knew it would be just be like that..

and it was..

the bus ride was great.. everyone loved my songs...
The softy had never tasted this good when my dad had gotten it for me.. the rides had never been this thrilling on the countless times i had ridden them alone...

I saw it while going towards the popcorn stand to get those sweet honey flavoured popcorn i had loved..
It lay among all the rest of the toys.. yet, there was something that separated it from all the rest of them..
Its milky whiteness and that deepest of blues attracted me, making me forget my special popcorn..
I picked it up and tilted it this way and that.. and there in my hands, the sea was alive.. the waves formed and broke in their little closed up world.. the fish swam forward and then disappeared again into the blue depths.. as if shy of the hand rocking their world.. and the stars.. aah the stars twinkled and shone like diamonds on a liquid piece of velvet..
It was undoubtedly the most beautiful thing i had ever seen and i knew i had to have it.
"Uncle iska kitna hoga?" I asked the gray haired attendant for the price of my jewel.. "tees rupaiya..30 rupee" he replied.. that's all i had left, which meant the pop corn would have to go and so would the candy floss.. but i didn't care as my tiny hands fished in the little pink purse for the 3 ten rupee notes and placed them in the rough hands of the man, and off i went with my little plum.
I hid it deep inside my bag which i held on to all through the ride back home...

That night as my mom got ready for bed, i covered her eyes with my little pink hands and then placed it in her lap
as she looked at it, i saw her smile change to wonder and then... then she was crying.. and i was so scared.. scared that she hadn't like it.. that she was angry i had wasted all my money on it

and then she was hugging me and telling me that i was the best daughter in the whole world and i told her i loved her and she said she knew
she looked at the purse again and said that it was the most beautiful thing anyone had ever given her and that she would always keep it with her..

she has kept her promise..
she still has it at somewhere in the back of her Almira with all the other things i have given her over the ages..

I hope things could always be as simple.. i wish i could still be that little girl who thought of her parents.. who was not afraid of showing her love.. i wish mom would still hug me one of these days and tell me that it would all be ok and that she loved me no matter what..
and i would stand there again in her arms believing every word she said..
i wish i could just hug her and tell her how much i love her and that she would believe me too..

Stormy seas...

Today i feel like an ocean..
not the vast benevolent ocean, with its wondrous depths and welcoming arms..

but rather the storming thunderous sea, with my waves up like an armored fortress, shooting my enemies down one by one..
my white churning waters, ruthless and unforgiving, reducing ships of lore to floating rubble..

welcoming sailors from far and wide to their dark muddy graves

destroying
plundering
corrupting

making cowering wimps of grown men
taking their dearest treasures and emptying them into my dank vaults
unleashing the fury long locked in my green chest.. throwing out the pain i had long drowned to my depths

murderous i feel.. killing hope.. snuffing out dreams
giving back, all that was thrust on me
the pain the suffering the tears, that i have drunk for so long.. today i want to throw them right out..
do you hear me moan as the winds above whip my surface to a greater frenzy.. do you hear the tortured screams of my victims.. aah victims.. but who is the victim here i ask? do they not deserve what they are getting?
sailing my unblemished kingdom.. daring to tame me.. taking advantage of my innocent hospitality and treating me like their helpless slave.. walking off boasting of having surrendered me... walking off leaving behind their polluting trails on my white white seas
no.. no more shall they boast.. no more shall they befoul me.. no more shall i let them pass on calm quite seas
they shall pay for their impudence with their last struggling breaths
as i toss them high like rags and strangle them till their windpipes burst

treacherous and wild
is the ocean within me
lunatic and riled
is the ocean that is me..

Cat in a Hat..

Today, i was a just a lazy cat.
I lay all day in my warm spot in the sun..
curled up into a comfortable ball..
snoring away to glory in my faded old hat.

yawning and napping.. stretching and mewing
sleepy.. but content..

I didn't even feel like running away from my adopted home.. which was a surprise, considering how bored and neglected i have been feeling lately.
My adopted human family is on vacation you see.. off to some place called Goa. From what i picked up from their conversations, its full of sand. My friend Agusto, who lives in the neighborhood dustbin and knows everything about everything, told me that sands are in some rough dry place called a desert, which is so hot that it gives you bubbling blisters on your skin and your fur just wilts... The very thought of it had me jumping out of my stripes...my adorable little bristles almost fell off with fright..
I wonder why anyone would want to go to a place like that for a vacation... :sigh: ...humans and their strange ideas. I almost ran away again, when i heard one of the human kittens fighting to take me along too. Thank God her parents refused.

Anyway, coming back to today, i had a glorious day , though had a bit of a low moment towards the evening as i missed out on my luscious bowl of evening milk, 'coz that double crossing minx of a maid has been stealing it for herself ever since the owners left.
Grrrhhhh.. i wish i could think of some way of getting her fired.. :x :x :x

But this little loss was more than made up for by the delicious leftover chilli-chicken Agusto stole for me from that big red brick house at the end of the alley.. yumm... i can still feel the tempting aroma and my taste buds are still doing ballet, thanks to that spicy tangy flavour.. it was almost sinful.. :sigh: :sigh:
Thank God for friends, otherwise that mean maid would have starved me to death already.

Anyway, i have shifted my hat under the old ambassador in the shed, which is my usual sleeping place in the winters, and the very thought of my warm tickly inviting bed is turning me drunk drowsy..
:yawn:
so off i go... goodnight..sleep tight.. don't let the bad dogs yipe :D :D :D

meow meow!!

Green day

Today i was a grasshopper..
green as a leaf right after the first rain
roaming freely through the high high grass
in and out of its shadows... warmed by the gentle slivers of sun light that filtered through

raiding ant hills and tickling the little busybodies, teasing them with my antennae

jumping high and higher still.. climbing to the very tips of the shady blades

aaaah..basking in the winter sun at last...
the drugging doping sedating sun

so off i hopped to the huge red lily by the side of the wall.. lay on its velvety petals and dozed off in its welcoming embrace


i explored and wondered
dreamt and lived
touched and felt
smelled every scent
tasted the wilderness of my world
aaah today i gave freedom a heady kiss
the wild green hopper that i was today..

Freeville...dreamville..

hello everybody!
and welcome to freeville
i have been running for ages

from people
from loneliness
from riots
from silence
from chains
from independence
from chores
from nothingness
from the past
from the future
from care
from indifference
from doubts
from knowledge
from the world

and more than anything else...

from myself

but now i am tired.. so here i am in my little bubble in cyberspace...my freeville... where i can be whatever i want to be.. do whatever i want to do and be wherever i want to be..

one place i won't have to run from
i hope this would at last help me fill the void that is me..

to many posts of freedom and wishes..
to living my dreams and burying my nightmares
to letting out the dreamer the desirer the traveler

to my blog!!!