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!! :)

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

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

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.

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..