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

Gugu...

(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.

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...

Mmmm...

The dark liquid slid down my back.. slow.. luxuriant.. leaving behind its scent and a delicious promise.. taking away a part of me as it flowed down to settle near my feet.
I could still feel the heat coming from it, enticing me to melt and mix with it..

The nuts were next, tumbling like kids on a snow covered mountain, giggling and tickling all the way and then settling with a big splash in the silky swirls of the liquid, still relentlessly making me sway and twirl under its spell
Then came the best part, my little red hat, like a ruby in the sun, my crown of glory, sherry's little cherry and I was ready, to make heads turn and hearts swoon...

Yes, today I was a Hot Chocolate Fudge.. gorgeous, tempting and delicious as hell..
Flirty and flitty all set to melt..
I know I am being a narcissist, but what the hell, I am feeling absolutely ravishing today..
I am on a high.

Naughty and suave.. sweet but with that classic bitter flavour that only chocolate can lay claim to.. I am feeling yummmmmmm :D :D :D