Up in the sky

But strew his ashes to the wind
Whose sword or voice has served mankind,—
And is he dead, whose glorious mind      
Lifts thine on high?—
To live in hearts we leave behind     

   Is not to die. 
(Hallowed ground. Thomas Campbell)


I visited a relative's house after few days of funeral at their place. Seemed like the house has turned normal, after few days of mourning. The one who has left them all seemed to be old but a healthy man. The death was a shock, the age wasn’t. you get that ? coffee was served. Conversations took a boring phase and so that is the time we had to leave. When I lift up my head after wearing my slip-ons, my eyes met the name board of this person who had left for once. I mean he is no way closer to me, just an acquaintance. But something hit me and I sit to write this.

1

We are born, we live and we leave. This is the only most sure of things that we know. The time we live and how we live is all up to uncertain plans and that's the spice. We all have thought at least once by now- what happens to people after they die? We should have thought they will come around as a ghost or probably be playing around in heaven or be reborn somewhere or the most practical thing we will come up with is that they are dead and there is no aftermath. Okay! Leave what happens to them. What happens to us after a person leaves? We get some sweet sadness when ever we think of them. Right? The ratio and flavor of sweet and sad is depending on how close the person is to you and the roll they played in your life. For example, I remember seeing a dead person on the road who freshly met with an accident. I still have this picture in my head. When I think of it I feel a little tinge of sadness, no sweetness. When I think of my dead grandma, I have more of fresh sweetness and little sadness.

I also remember a sweet lady, mother of my good friend. She is one of such headstrong-lovable-mom-determined-focused woman I met. All she wanted was a great life to her daughters. I know those daughters personally and the impact reflects. She owned me a little too. When I went to her funeral, I wasn’t emotionally broken or sad but I started shivering in denying to accept she is gone. I felt like shaking her up and saying “okay now get up and be back to normal”. I was no where emotionally connected to her nor her loss puts a dent in my life but I simply could not accept. If I think of her, there is little sweetness, even little sadness but a lot of void that I could feel.

My dad used to share about a Brahmin lady who cooks so well and was so kind to him in his childhood days. She lived in his neighbourhood. He moved to different place, no contact and I am sure she is too old to be alive anymore. But my dad talks about her at least once in six months, quoting some incident or memory he shares with her.

Now I am sitting in a cafe and when I look around this people busily scuffle, gulp, chat or type, they all have some set of people in their mind for sure, who aren't alive now. May be as close as their mother or as random as a poor old man begging on the street long back. They will surely remember them with some mixture of sweetness and sadness. Whatever happens to a person after she or he is dead and gone, something surely affects their surroundings for sure. The impact they leave. Even the most insignificant person on earth will remain in someones memory. Isn't this beautiful?

The tree they watered once is still alive, the recipe in that piece of paper is still a dread-saver, the story they said still makes sense. Musing about this was a rich yet peaceful feeling. I thought it would be good if I registered it in words.

By the way, have you ever sat gaping at the sky, thinking of the person who left you?

Banana Beer.

I  was all geared up for the meet up. It should happen this evening, a meeting with one good friend of mine. With the freshly brewed banana beer on the table and some chicken wings, listening to Sean Paul, I was glancing the pub door way every minute. From a lost man, today I am sitting here enjoying some girls giving stares at me. My friend arrived ordering for a stronger beer on his way. 

“Then matcha! Why in such a hurry to meet me? You don’t even pick my call otherwise.”
I replied, “Bro! You don’t hang on to 'sensible' friends untill you really need them.”
“Now should l be happy or…” He dragged.
“Be whatever! But listen to me. I am in SOS.”
“Tell me Da. I am all ears.” He came forward, closer to me.
“Matcha! You know how much I love my wife. No!?”
“No!?” he blasted into a loud laugh. This is why I come back to him everytime. He makes it all look so cool. No drama, no cheese, no butter. Just practical.
“Dude pls! I am mad about her. I just made her the fenrervof my world. But recently I have reckoned that she is all back in track with her old boyfriend.”
“Wait whaaaaa? You said things were cool between you guys.” He was sure 
“Ba**** it was. I don’t know, though I love her so much, we have never met a middle ground. By time, I find her so selfish. She just enjoys all my love and attention but chooses him over me. Every. Single. Time.”
“Hey! Affair or something? Are they cheating around?” He got serious.
“Aye! I don’t think so, or I don’t even care. But she just chooses him, may be emotionally…” I tried to explain.
“Man! Wake up! Then what’s your problem? Must be friendship. You gotta chill.” He lost his cool.
“You know me dude! Do I seem like a guy who has problems with a good friendship? Come on. You had known me all my life.”
“That’s exactly why I am shocked. What’s bothering you Da!? “ he put his arms around me. The shitty beer he had had a rotten smell. But I still felt good. Friends arms are always a magic.

Meanwhile, my music app’s shuffle mode chose 'We don’t talk anymore' for some reason.

“Dah! See I love her a lot. I understand friendship and all that. For a fact that I too have a handful of close friends. But when a person you love is emotionally available for someone, misses them around, needs them for every solution of life, too available for them, can’t go a day without them and you become just a 'duty', it kinda hurts matcha! Too small to give up. Too big to digest. This is my problem. And it’s becoming a blame game every day.” I poured out gulping my last sip of beer.
“Matcha! I understand. But can I ask you something. Do you think you can control whatever that’s happening around you? The more you start controlling things around you the more are the chances of you getting disappointed. The only thing you can ever control is you, yourself. When you can’t control the circumstances, control yourself. Don’t be a circumstantial victim, be a wise man. There is a lot of difference.” He was still with his half filled beer mug.
The pub was vibrating with Pharrell Williams’ 'Happy'.
He continued,
“Do you love her ?”
“Yes. A lot.”
“Can you live without her or choose otherwise?”
“Never.”
“You think you are doing a mistake?”
“Not at all.”
“You like being sad like this and doing small talks?”
“No. It’s freaking so annoying.”
“Exactly. Then why should you be sad!?” he paused.
I did not understand a thing but did realise something.
He continued.
“Take control of your life matcha and eventually, yourself. I know for sometime it’s hard but try and shift your focus. This is what people do. Loosing themselves in the name of love. Accept moments as it flows. Be very sure that you don’t let in anything that makes you a victim. Be responsible. Selfless love should only make you stronger and accepting will only liberate you. Love her the way you do. But remember you love her because you love yourself a lot.  Make 'happy' your high. Bingo! And always search happiness in a place you are sure of finding it. Ya!?”

How practical and simple this man thinks. 
This half a page Gyan or the banana beer or those songs, I don’t know what exactly but something made me feel so light and confident. I know for sure shot! I am going to feel this way, forever. 

“Ahh! Cut that overthinking. Now sit and muse later. I know you are going to be better.”
Friends just knew it. Always.
“One more beer?! By the way that red top in third table is staring at you since I came in.” he tickled me.
“Where? Who dah!?” I grinned in shy.
“Matcha aye! As if….”

The rest is history.

Be born!

Sitting in a cafe, all alone with a a-never-before silence she began to muse. okay! 'Two years in this city and the place still looks alien to me. I am never able to find that connection with these streets and buildings. Forget people!'

Scrolling through the call log, she found no one who she could count on. There are a couple of well wishers who always got her back and her parents. She dint want to disturb them for some reason. This phase of her life has been terrible. I don't wanna go ahead and pour out all that happened to  her. Because, I believe life is a battle and everyone has got their own.

She did not escape in any way. May be untill certain point of life she did not take problem as a problem. Hence, she is a way too grown up, child! A little insanity that everyone posses and she was called a psycho!

Well, this all is absolutely unnecessary. I will share with you the outcome of her realisations in the process of recovering a heart wreck. You might feel it's a cliche or boring, or maybe, helpful!

One, never prioritise someone else above you. Everyone has themselves to take care and if they still got your back, well and good. Otherwise, be your first priority. In that way you'll know how to search happiness in yourself. This doesn't make you any selfish or lead you to deem others. Dare to be your own priority.If you don't think you are giving up on your moral values, do anything that makes you happy. And that is the 'daring' I mentioned.

Two, if you are going through a bad phase, at any point of life, remember one thing, it shall be there only for ten days. Hang on. After that, you'll have better problems to solve, get a different perspective or may be you may get happier to get all sad again. Anything stands only for 10 days. Then your current confusion might seem so small to attend.

Third, at any point of life, never take anything that tests your self-respect. We often get geared up to loose our self respect when we are emotionally weak. Never allow that to happen. By doing so you'll eventually loose yourself.

Four, never run back to something that shattered you. A situation, a place or a person, whichever be it. If you cannot avoid being physically engaged, try to mentally move on. Be mindful. In this damn world, where next minute of you breathing is uncertain, never run behind the momentery feelings. Let it engulf you, soak in it and pass on. If it is not making you happy, then move on. It takes a huge effort but liberates you incredibly.

Finally, always remember, every little problem is making you a little stronger. You will never be the same again. If any situation makes you feel the weakest, that is when you are getting stronger. Who doesn't like it after all. Learn the art of enjoying this process.

Also never think you don't love yourself. If you are able to feel self-pity or inferior, you are already loving yourself more than normal. Choose the way you love yourself. Make it constructive. Shine like a queen.

Keep smiling:) 

pRoem!!

if coffee bruised!

Sip one, hot shock!
Sip two, lip cut!
Sip three, drenched in blood!
Sip four, blood dried soul!
Sip five, gone in air!

if coffee bruised?
Drink and die and drink and die.

Kiss the stars,
Kiss the goblet,
Kiss the Sun,
Kiss the dragon,
Kiss THAT love!

if kisses bruised?
Drink and die and drink and die.

And drink!

When love is wild,
Be a child. <3

The Fight Flood.

SHE WROTE:

Love,
When the morning dawned, my heart pumped fast,
When my hair tresses touched my lips,
When the breeze kissed my breasts,
I know the night was waiting for us,
All that romantic stars gazing at!

My soul was thirsty for your voice.

Oh! a storm now.
You called it or I caused it,
The wait was shattered.
Rolling down it was you and me.
The lips talked and not kissed.

Through the lips, heart opened too.

Hearts spoke, more and more, fire and fierce.
Romance rippled to rage, tears gushed to save!

Love,
Kisses have thousand nights,
Knowing your heart through fights,
Precious as my glistening soul,
I fought to love you more.

Heart pulsed faster,
You are my heart itself.
Waiting and missing the moment of Romance,
Which will never come twice
The morning dawned again!

SHE WROTE.

Pieces of Life!

The muttering fan reminded her about the endless quarrels she used to have with her husband, while he was around and alive. Now at her 70, she got no one to visit her. Only a teenage girl from the next street visits her often. How their friendship evolved is a vague story to them. Hestia is this old lady’s name, Meaning goddess of hearth but she was calm as a stream.  Once her life was like a party and so happening. No one rather she knows why she has moved to this aloof place so abandoned.  I have introduced enough; I will let Hestia do the talking now.

Hestia speaks….

I felt like the Sun was gazing at me, golden and glittering. Afternoon window peeps have become my habit. Bird chirps are so good. Today I feel like dusting my showcase. It’s crazy that I have a showcase but have no one to show in here. Though I don’t have a fancy for tidy housekeeping, each piece this show case holds, holds a great memory too. Each of it was from different people, at different phase of life, as a gift, as a remembrance, as a thanks note and more. Each piece has sediments to cherish. I stare them for a while with pride and took soft pink linen to clean them.

First, my hand met a beautiful porcelain saucer in ocean blue. It had black stone embellishments; each of it reflected my chest length shadow.

The Blue Saucer and the Laughter

Rhea was my closest teen-friend.  That day was when we met for the last time since she had to move abroad with her husband. With tea and cake always comes a chat.

“Fire! (She calls me so) So tell me how you like him? Good for your library?”

I smiled. “Ree, I liked him. Love books. And that’s where I fell.”

“Hmmmm. So am I hearing wedding bells soon?” She winked.

“Yeah Ree! Of that kind.  You are gonna be missed this season”

“Dah-ling! I would love to stay here but things are different at my side.”

“I understand. If not will I spare?” I hit her softly.

She grinned.”Here, I have something for you. Taa-daaa!! A saucer fortune. Like it?”

I took it in my hands gently and felt it. “Oh I love it!! Too good for words to describe”

I gave a hug. I was really happy. The best thing is it was hand crafted.

“Well. Next time I visit, you are gonna serve me a cup of special cardamom tea on top of it.”

“Order taken, mademoiselle!!”

We had a long chat of gossips, books, movies and future.

She left me feeling warm and waving bye. I never met her again. It’s crazy how once-so-close friend go hidden for life from you and you make no efforts to find them. They just remain in your memory but afresh.

If you have one such person, write here _________________ .

After rubbing it to shine, I placed the saucer carefully back. Next to it was a wooden paper cutter, blunted long back.

The wooden paper cutter and Berry candies

The dull finish surface of the cutter had faded painting of a dove. It smelt like old true rosewood. I always wish my closet had one such fragrance to spray on.

It was given to me by an old lady who stays a furlong ahead my aunt’s house in the hills. My family visits my aunt every vacation and I never fail to have chats with that old lady. She was called ‘Kuntoo’, by herself.  She gives me pink candies of berry flavor each time I go to her. That candy tasted so unique and had a touch of love.

“Hello Miss Honey cake! What brought you here this morning?”. She has a husky grany-type voice.

“Kuntoooooo it’s my birthday today. I gave her candies this time.

“Wow my sugar jelly! Am so happy my kid”. She took a pink candy n began to unwrap.

“Alright what you have to give me today? Definitely not candies”. I extended my palm.

“ Haaaaaaa! My bubbly bunch of berry I have nothing so special with me now… umm.. But wait.” She rummaged her draw narrowing her tiny eyes. “Oh my cherry blossom! Here is it. Tell me how you like it?” she clasped her palm and dunked something into mine with a wide grin.

It was this paper cutter. Shining and new, I thought it was a new one.

“Plum jam! My granny gave this to me long back. She used it for her craft classes. I so loved it”. She kept seeing my face with expectant eyes waiting for my reaction.

“Kuntoo, I just love this. Thank you”. I smiled and planted a kiss on her cheek, for the first time. She was moved.

“Honey dumpling! Today you got to answer this. What is life? Tell me tell me”

“ahh! Not again Kuntoo am bored.”

“But you never gave me an answer jelly jar!” she frowned.

“Life is life. Byeeeee Kuntoo. Time to go” I rushed from that place not waiting for any reply. I was busy researching the paper cutter and wanted to use it right away.

“Happy bithd-a-yyyy…” I heard a voice fading out. That was the last time I visited her since my aunt moved abroad then. I never had a wish to meet her again. Not even now. Some relations are meant to be so, too good to be bothered.

Coming to the point, have you ever asked someone “What’s life?” Got any answers??                  

Now tell me, what is life?

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

I am so lost into this wooden piece. It reminds me of Kuntoo’s beautiful garden, maintained so well by her. The unique taste of the berry candies she gave me, I can still feel it.

By the way, my memories made me so occupied. Let me sip some tea. Would you like to join?

Marsupium.

When life store smiles,

And bunch of sorrow,

Across infinite miles,

No one knows tomorrow.

Every eyes has a spark-

All the living machines.

Few glowed in dark.

Dream, I name it – questions?

All those souls in here

     Present or past,

Possess a resilient pouch in which,

Profuse needs, wishes and desire,

Goes on and on to vouch.

Replace, refill or remain.

The sac is never void.

Promises not so certain,

Prayer and faith are chords.

Tough, may be the day.

Hard, may be the way.

Gloom, may be the path.

For all you pass-

There is a place of warmth.

Never blame your marsupium!

Have a nice day!

Little eyes! (How to name it...)

Two little eyes with a little girl.

Knows how a volcano looks,

May be a fruit stall.

Or even some Blyton books.

Those little eyes had chances,

For a garden and flower,

Or a parent quarrel glances,

A pencil and an eraser.

Twinkling eyes might see,

An inspiring teacher;

A screaming refugee;

Friend and fun, laughter.

The eyes may clap at,

A luxury resort sunrise;

Silent stream’s water splat;

A begging palm of a mother-wise.

Tiny eyelids may flap,

On a rape victim’s whine;

Pamper of mother’s lap;

Or a terrace moon shine.

Tandem events the eyes visit,

May be a falling star;

A modern room well-lit;

Also a morbid father’s scar.

Tracing back her eye record,

Tells she saw a blood pool;

A loving maid with regard;

Or even a mirror and fool.

To her eyes, came afore.

A splendid flavored water fall;

A brother dying by a sea shore;

Who knows, may be her own call.

Twin eyes scanned ahead,

Lavish parade of fruit and nut;

Loving wave from granny’s hand;

An injured backbone on master’s hit.

Tattered eyes may gulp in,

A live porn to fill in tum;

A half graced plate from dust bin;

Mundane morning in dirty slum.

Tale of this fairy’s eyes sung,

Will extend until severe long.

All those little eyes do not see the same.

Butterfly, drums, shutter or any name,

Tiny eyes make lifetime film,

Some were happy, sad or sublime.

So, How was your luck?!

Have a nice day! :)

We met! (3)

NOTE- Kindly peep in WE MET(1) and WE MET(2), to get the gist of the first two parts of the story that ends in this part.

“Wrong number,” I said to my righteous girl and had cut the call. I am a tyro in love. I could not bear with this monstrous feeling. Having my girl, the one I dreamt, called me and I cut the call. Too much to believe. Her blue star pendant kept flashing in my mind. By the way,” Preet,” I said to myself.  She is named as cute as herself. My heart skipped circadian regulations.

Jitin sharma, who the hell are you? Why do you have my name and play with my love, my life. I wanted to slap that guy. Lucky him!!

I had always cursed film scenes when it portrays a hero in lovelorn, reminded about everything he liked about his girl and when he smiles to himself. But now, those fingers, the crescent lips, tucked hair behind milk tinge ear petals, marble eye balls and those fluttering butterflies on them…. I am literally taken away. ‘Sharma’ made my hands go wild on the wall, banging it. I kept staring at my mobile screen and prayed, none of my dumb friends should flash on the screen. And when she will call again, if at all she does, I was ready to surrender, “Yes this is Jitin, Jitin Verma and I love you”. I was waiting for a long time but in vain and slept off.

                                                                                     ******

“Huh??  WRONG NUMBER??” 

I was taken aback. It’s him, it’s his voice. There is no way of it being a wrong call. My heart was never wrong. I never let my brain do things for me, and it’s my gift. Hence, I still trust that it’s him.

I called Jaab, “Jaab. Wake up and listen”

“Yes Preet tell me. Why do you sound tensed?”

“I called Jitin. It was him. I am sure about this, his voice, the accent, the way he says ‘hello’. Its so him.”

Jaab interrupted, “Babes tell me what he told. I don’t need your voice analysis.”

I said, “He cut the call. ‘Wrong number’ is what he told me”

“Jaab I feel like crying. It’s him. It’s…. him.”

“Areyyyy!!! Darling dainty, now don’t wet your hanky. He must have played with you, monkey!”. Jaab is always cool. I was not convinced at all.

“Jab please. Loved someone ever? He is not playing. I know him.”

“Wareey wah! Look at her. So you guys were in love for years? You know him itseems,” she teased.

“Jaaaaab,” I pulled. Now Jaab had a serious tone. This is very special about her. “Ok. Now give me his number, I will check.” I wanted to jump out of my couch, “Jaab are you serious? Sure?”

“Ha ha! Pass me his number. I will let you know by morning.

“Muah darling,” I was excited.” Hello hello, if he is not Jitin, I am going to pick him.”

“Haan?? Jab!!”

“Ha ha ha! Stupid girl. I will let you know tomorrow.”

I just clicked the ‘send’ button and plunged into my bed; tightly packed, knowing I would never sleep.

                                                                                     ********

8.00AM, I woke on a call, all the incidents rushing back to my memory. It was an unknown number, feeling excited, it must be her calling from another number, I picked the call to tell what I had already planned.

A metallic voice spok.” Hello, Jitin?” I was confused.

“Are you jitin? Jaab here. Preet’s friend.”

“Yeah! Jitin. I mean Jitin Verma.”

“Yes you. Can I have a word with you? Preet called you yesterday. You met in train right? Why is that you cut the call? han?”

“Look, your friend was asking for Jitin Sharma. Ok? Sharma! I am here, Jitin Verma. So it is a wrong dial. Tik hai? And yeh! Damn we met in train. So what?”

Fortune cookies should have broken to read ‘fortune’ for me. Unfortunately I dint have one. Yet I had the wholesome fortune coming in the next reply.

“Wooo wooo wooo!! Cool down young man. What’s this Verma-Sharma. Jitin is Jitin. Ok listen, she was hunting for you, JITIN VERMA! the one and only. Sharma was the tag we used to escape our professor, once when he caught us gossiping on your name. Then we kept using it and still using it. But it’s you mahn! Jitin verma. And mind you, call her back, c ya.” I heard a beep.

I was climbing up on cloud 9, swaying my wings and listening to Jaab’s long reply.

I don’t remember who initiated the call, but all I remember even today is, Jitin and Preet did not sleep the whole night, that day.

 Have a nice day!

ஏ(ன்)மாற்றம் !!

வானம் பார்த்து வாய் பிளக்க,
கண்ணிமை பட்டுத்தெரிக்கும்  
மழைத்துளி !

புருவம் விரிந்து கையகல, 
விரலினைத்து  துருத்தி,'பே' எனும் 
நண்பன்!

இலையசய, கண்மூடி முகம் தர, 
சலனமற்று கடந்தே செல்லும் 
தென்றல்!

இதழ் குவித்து அருகில் வர,
கன்னம் காட்டி- அடி வைக்கும் 
குழந்தை!

சிகை கண்டு சட்டென முன்நோக்க,
சுருங்கசிரிக்கும், இளமை கடந்த 
பெண்!

அதிசயமாய் ஆழ படித்தும் 
மறந்தோ , மறுத்தோ  விடபட்டதொரு 
கேள்வி!

திருவிழா தாவணி தரிசனத்தில் 
முதற்கண் அழகு - ஒன்றுவிட்ட 
தங்கை!

தெரியாமல் செய்ய எண்ணி,
முன்னமே கேட்கப்படும் 
உதவி!

பளிச்சென புன்னகைத்தும்,
புரியாமல் புருவம் குருக்கும்  பால்ய 
சினேகம்!

வாரம் ஒன்றை திட்டமிட்டும்,
'வா' என உரக்கசொல்லும் 
விடுமுறை!

ஏராளமாய் சிருகச்செர்து ,
எண்ணுகையில் பூஜ்யம் குறையும்
உண்டியல்!

என, உயிர்குடி உடல் வளர்பு உலகத்தில்,
இச்சில ஏமாற்றங்கள், சினம் அல்ல-
சிரிக்கத்தான் வைகிறது!!

இனிய நாள்!!