We saved his life - true story!

I was may be 8 years old. Happy playing with the 3 month old fox terrier pup, getting scared when my big brother said 'Kashmoooraaaaaa', embarrassing amma when she took me to her friends' homes by blurting out 'I am hungry', getting mid night whacks from my sister when I wet the bed and she had to change sheets as well as my clothes, secretly dreaming and being thrilled about my fathers green trunk as my friend told me she thinks it is full of money! Holding Hari's hand (who was 10 and some months old then) while crossing the road and listening to him say the same sentence every day 'come near my School as soon as yours is over' and I responded with a big nod while moving towards my class as unwillingly as a French convict facing the guillotine.

I did not yet know real sadness or trauma or drama even for that matter. One fine day, I was in School and my brother’s friend came to fetch me. My teacher looked sad and shocked as she spoke to him outside the classroom and she said ‘Aparna, please go with him, you are excused from the class’. For me I knew the friend and he told me guess what jokes when he came home so I skipped away from school happily behind him. (Guess what! Amma is gummy, appa is thorny but the sons are like Amitabh Bachchan – guess what is it? Answer: Jack fruit! clap clap clap)

He had come in his cycle, instead of making me sit in the front and pedal away, he started walking pushing the cycle and told me ‘Little one (putti) your anna had an accident, one more friend has gone to fetch Hari (my other brother), we need to go to the hospital ok?’. I said ok.

I did not know the meaning of accident and related hospitalization. Till we reached the hospital, I was happy about skipping School that day. When I reached, my mother, sister and brother were already there. We went to see where my brother was. We were taken to the general ward; all the beds were full with patients and their attendants. We searched for the familiar face of my brother and someone in the entourage said ‘here he is’.

All cots in the general ward were taken so they had made a makeshift arrangement on the floor with a bed and related sheets. The person who was on it had a fully swollen face – especially his right eye. I did not recognise him. He was unconscious. Amma was hysterical asking people – why is he not awake? what happened? Where is the doctor? Why is he on the floor? Please shift him to private ward and so on.

Naanna was away attending to his office work. He was informed. We were assured that as soon as the private ward is vacant he will be shifted. He was hit on the head by a fast cricket ball while playing the match and a neuro surgeon is coming from Bangalore (or some place) to examine him.

Nanna came and private ward opened up. He was shifted. I did not yet know the significance of him being unconscious for one and half days, I was not around when the neuro surgeon examined him, I did not yet know how lucky we were that he was alive though the impact of the ball left a dent in his skull forever and there was internal bleeding.

My belief then was if some one is sick, they go to hospital, they get better and they go home. So I was not worried much. Hari and I skipped school as many days as he was in the hospital, received well wishers and friends to the hospital room in all the glory of sister and brother of the patient, received bags full of fruits very humbly to be divided and devoured by both of us as soon as they left! I do not remember offering a piece of fruit to my other brother who was sleeping and waking at random intervals.

May be children with their strong beliefs and happy thoughts make miracles happen unknowingly.

Of rains, scorpions and love

She was thinking of cooking lunch in some time. There was no hurry since they had a good and late breakfast after which he had watched some T.V and slept. Easy, lazy Saturday for both. All of a sudden the sky was overcast, dark clouds gathered very quickly and it started raining heavily just like a PMSing herself would cry over a song or his inconsideration or over missing her people - big, heavy rain drops.

She always found herself excited when it rained and there were many reasons for that. Rains in her life time of 30 something years happened with animation. 

What was her first vague memory of heavy rain? Her family was in a transit home before moving into a proper one which would be made ready for them in some months. This was an asbestos sheeted living space which leaked every where when it rained, she remembered sleeping on the cot with her siblings while her parents sat with two big umbrellas to cover them. In retrospect, she felt sorry for her parents but for her the memory was of excitement of huddling together, giggling with her siblings and being up beyond her bed time. 

 

During later rains as she grew older the first thing her mother shouted when it started raining was 'hey it is raining, quick go get the clothes drying on the clotheline, quick close  the door, quick quick', this was accompanied by her and her siblings running in a mad dash to get dry, semi dry clothes from the line, becoming a bit wet, bumping into each other, tugging some clothes in impatience and tearing some one's precious garment and so on. Always what followed after the rain gave an implicit permission to throw the regular routine in the wind. Demands for pakodas or chilli bajjis were put forth and later when she was an young adult her brothers spoke of having some alcohol in the night to celebrate the rain. They all did too, she blossoming  into an efficient bar tender with a clever hand which tipped less to the tipsy and more to people who kept an eye on the pouring including herself.

There were scary memories of rain too. During her regular summer vacations in her grandparent's home with a mud terrace, she and her cousins were always woken up in the dead of the night from deep slumber to chaos of different relatives shouting different commands to different people, 'fold the bed sheet', 'do not run down the stairs', 'leave that pillow here', 'where is the lantern', 'children go with your grandpa he will take you down' and so on. The summer shower also brought scorpions out of their holes, she sat with her cousins bright eyed seeing scorpions every where in the shadows, snakes under the bed and too hyper to fall asleep forever. Nobody forced anybody to sleep, every body used to be wide awake and used to start talking and laughing again. This lulled her to sleep and not care for scorpions of  the  world. 

In one such Monsoon, her brothers met with an accident because it was rainy season. Those rains which started as an adventure while they were trekking the western ghats turned horrific as a train came un announced. Though they were lucky not to lose their lives the rain that night was the noisiest for her.

She remembered her first kiss. It happened when he was a new acquintance and there was electrifying chemistry between them. One fine night, they stood in the backyard of her friend's room, it started raining, there was no light, they were rooted in their spots not making a move towards going back in or going towards a shelter from rain. To this day both of them do not know what happened next, who approached whom, but they found themselves kissing. That rain was like a flower shower and intoxicating than any spirit she had ever tasted including Absinthe.

After that they made many trips to the pub regularly soaking wet and delirious in love. It was heady to drink chilled beer sitting in wet clothes engulfed by warm thoughts. They came to know that they will be together for ever during those nights and went there for every anniversary, birthday and family event.

Today the excitement of the rain made her bring the clothes from the clothes line, plan for making pakodas, call her mother, sister, brothers and sister in law and to kiss him awake.

Tripping on Monsoon

It has started to rain in Bhopal and there are bird calls every where and mating of crickets in the balcony ..

Crickets remind me of my summer vacations in Alampur. As children we were familiar with the loud periodic noise coming from various wet corners of the house, either from bathroom or from under the earthen pot row which had wet sand under it. Ammamma used to bury ginger pods in the wet sand and it used to grow and be fresh. As an aside, my ammamma was a goddess and she could do any thing with any thing!! shhhhh 

I did not know the size of the insect and its Telugu name 'keechu raayi' sounded ominous like 'Keechaka' or 'pisachi' which were names of Rakshasas or scary ghosts.

I remember the surprise I felt when I saw how small an insect it was in comparison to the high volume of the sound it produced. It was vibrating its being to send it out. If at all I can do some thing like that then may be extra terrestrials can hear my call!

I came to know later that it is a mating call sent out to attract the female of the species. I wonder how we would have fared if patriarchy did not operate in our societies... how would our men be? What sounds or songs they would have perfected, what other skills might have come up... since blood and gore is something females intuitively do not appreciate, may be we would have had nimble men gyrating their hips in dance with colourful costumes and what not...

I for one would not mind a cacophony of colourful men preening and strutting their stuff for a change :) 

Spontaneous and deliberate

While working outside
the day was
pre lunch  and post lunch

Now in the  break
the day is
breakfast, lunch and dinner

Though time and timelessness
are simple yet profound concepts
human beings trivialise it with
a mundane structure

structureless means spontaneous
which is being timeless again
vocally structureless is a structure

spontaneous and structureless
is the goal
Goal defeats spontaneity
Nice fix it is 
 

Bhopal day 2: a glimpse

Today we went out for house hunting. I prepared for the day long auto rides in extreme heat by buying Zandu balm ( scent of amma), aloevera gel (a bit of akka), pulpy orange (a bit of chin) and a bottle full of cold water.

Scene 0:
We are in an auto and following the broker who is in a bike, we wait under a tree because broker had to go fetch the flat keys from some place, the auto guy starts a conversation with venky...

A guy: Aap kahaa ke hein bhaiyya?

Venky: hum Mysore ke hein (then says loudly as if talking to a person slow in hearing) AAP MYSORE JAANTHE HEIN?

Aguy: nods and then lekin ithna lamba transfer kyu liya aapne?

Venky: Ye transfer nahi hein, hum south India me kaam karke vahaaki experience liya hein tho soche ki kuch naya dekhe, isi liye Bhopal aagaye?

Aguy: tho aapki company ka branch kolne yaha aagaye hein kya?

Venky: Mein company mein nahi, ek sanstha mein kaam karthaa hun, hum gaav me kaam karthe hein

Aguy: Yahan ke gaav patha hein aapko?

Venky: Nahi abhi tho nahi, lekin patha hojaayega

Aguy: (changed the subject - because it was like dude whatever), tho makaan khareed rahe hein abhi?

venky: khareed nahi rahe hein, rent pe lena hein

Aguy: Mysore mein ghar khareeda hoga na?

Venky: Nahi vaha bhi nahi khareeda

Aguy: (Astonished) kya mathlab - aap ghar kahi bhi kareeda nahi hein? lekin kyun? ghar tho hona chaahiye

Venky: Nahi kahreeda - kya aap ke paas ghar hein?

Aguy: haanji bilkul, maine khareeda hein Bhopal mein,

then he tried to get at venky from another angle

A guy: aap ka shaadi hoke kitne saal hogaye?

Venky: 12 years

A guy: Mera bhi theek 12 years, bachche kithne hein?

Venky: Bachche nahi hein abhi

A guy: Abhi thak nahi hein?!!!

Venky: Haan ab soch rahe hein ( as if to please the auto guy!)

A guy: Mere do beten hein - dono padthe hein

Venky: achcha! ( as if they going to school is the seventh wonder)

A guy: haanji bilkul, dekho saab ghar chota bhi ho bada bhi ho, khareed lo

by then the broker came and we moved!

There and then and here and now

Patterns are patterns
whether they are for resistance
or for acceptance
for love or for everything else

Some times, I am an island,
all my sides covered with
glorious self absorption or
thinly spread contempt
for the others

I am also a light tower
relentlessly beaming light
into distant sea
while it is dark near by
in the hope of greater good

Many a days I am a dejavu
repeating the days and times
and echoing the patterns of the past
and realising only after the repetition

I am on some days,
the green box in the attic
With the books and smells and scents
of distant past, preserved for
eternity

I am a remote on some days
with buttons displayed
for anger, sadness and
stand - by suspended

There are days when I am
the stream that flows taking
floatsam along with
scores of living - thriving creatures

Many days I am woman
who feels all the above and
wonders whether this is dejavu!

Lets run and lets not

Running away is so exciting,
from problems, from people
and from the self from time to time,

The adrenalin rush of panic
and fear of being caught unguarded
for some,
of elaborately woven rationalisations for some,
makes the act a lofty mission

Theory scares some, action scares some,
silence scares some, speech scares some,
morning scares some, night scares some,
love scares some, indifference scares some,

Invisible hierarchies cleverly
conditioned by the socialisation process
leaves each craving for a pat on the back
from the highest order and a notion
that the point representing pinnacle
is perfection

we are the perfect points and
we are the lowest rungs,

I am you and you are me
And we are a dialectical whole
in the twilight of opposites

Alice needs to get out of the wonderland

I remember crying in the lab for a day and then coaxed by the flower woman to examine what is happening to me and what are my authority issues and went through a moment of eureka! I found it. I thought realisation of our pattern itself is enough to change it. But as the saying goes, a good beginning is half the work done, I only began that day and I am yet to finish working on the rest.

Being the fourth and last child has its own advantages and disadvantages. Since advantages become disadvantages some times I feel its a mixed bag of mints of different flavour. If I am lucky I will get rose flavoured mint or a mango flavoured one if not it might be garlic or dog shit or horse breath.

I am a pampered one and I am loved by my family and in no way I am hinting at a traumatic dramatic incident or any such thing.

What happens is when I am with my siblings, I take or am given the position of a child while he/she will be the adult. This does not happen by a conscious design. May be I push them as well to be the adults and put myself as a child.

So I end up either meekly agreeing or rebelling in my own ways. This is a lose lose situation. My rebellion is also honed to hurt the Achilles heel of each one of them. Who does this unless they are child like?

Because of this, I kept score and whined constantly in front of my partner and the constant sentences were 'nobody asks me how am I or nobody is interested in my life or no one asks for my opinion, do they know me at all?'

I need my brothers and sister to acknowledge me, approve of me and pat me on my back and be proud of me. Isn’t this very childish?

I have experienced equal footing with all of them at one or the other time. Much more with one at particular times. And I know none of this is intentional.

I need my inner child which is forever banished from going up stairs to be with the adult siblings to grow up. May be writing this helps the child to climb the ladder and see the forbidden kingdom and then jump ahead to adulthood.

Otherwise the horcrux of my childhood anguish would forever be alive.

Searching for Sylvia I found Shiva

Bell jar seems poetic
beautiful and symbolic
of a woman in turmoil
I thought ....

Looked at many and
they all seemed
Phallic

searching for one symbol
I found another!
Bell jar forever is changed
for me!

'self' arangetram

Society has a responsible role to play in the life of children. Family is the primary unit of socialisation. Though this looks like the starting lines of Sociology for dummies, I started thinking about what shapes us or the I in me? Who am I? At various life stages I have answered that question with greater clarity. Some of the answers include, 'I am a feminist, I am a dynamic and creative young woman, I am this or I am that'.
I had identity crisis as a teenager and post that I carefully shaped my self image or let others suggest and took it to shape what I call who I am. I am not saying there is anything wrong with it or the approach.

Some times our life experiences become the pegs that go deeper into the earth and the rope which is tied to it will drag us close to the peg, may be we will be sitting or standing or straining just out of that hole. With a proud grin or a sad stoic stare about who we are and the reason being the peg deep in the earth.

For major part of my professional life, I stood next to the pit of my current life experience and showed that as 'me'. Some times I hoisted a flag there to make everyone look at it and some times I decorated the pit walls with squiggles equating the significance to early human cave paintings.

I was thinking about what depression does to me and I thought if I ask myself who am I? The answer would be ' I am a woman with depression and panic disorder and I am on the road to recovery'.
When I thought the above thought, it struck me that I have this pattern of sitting next to my life experience pit and calling it me.

I am examining it right now and one thing I can say right now is, I am not my depression, I am not just the social roles I play, I am not what you think I am and I am not what I think I am from time to time as well. I will eventually understand the many facets of who I am I think and it is ok if it keeps changing, expanding or shrinking or whatever. It is a good start when I know who I am not and the list of that is enormous so whew...

Ya to go back to family and society shaping us, I think children's personality is malleable, ductile, elastic and gooey. Adults leave impressions on the minds of children like dog leaves its paws on wet cement. People say 'you are like that person', 'her this reminds me of that', 'you are afraid of everything just like so and so', 'she sings well but cant dance', etc. Extracetera through out the years and it does not stop till I don’t know when. Many of these fall off eventually and some stick like the hardened dog paw on the cement. These are suggestions promptly accepted by the self without examining.

I did not question this or confront anybody about this, but secretly this anguish of the secret me gave shape to a fantasy me – inwardly crying Meenakumari who is not understood. Meena kumari is my symbol because she is stunning while she is in anguish. Her lustrous long hair floating on her shoulder, her kohled eyes intense, her face glowing in the intensity of the pain she feels. Her gasps or sighs are melodious. (and of course from black and white film era).

Some times there is silent but potent pressure from people (who do not even realise they are doing it) on me to be different, be bubbly, to make me understand that I am strong, I am creative and I am loved, I am lucky and I am da da da and di di di di. May be I put similar pressure without my knowledge on others and may be this is how civilizations progress!

OK that’s it for today. Feel like I am rambling.

Aphrodite becomes mortal

Whether I call myself feminist, atheist, leftist or whateverist, I make up my own fairy tales as I go along. There are time tested fables I have run successfully in my life and various roles I played based on many imaginary and mythical ones. At one end, there is the burden of patriarchal guilt. I wanted to be good at my work front as well as win brownie points for home maintenance or 'taking care' of The husband, at another end there is the feminist guilt for having the patriarchal guilt and so on..

Somehow one fine day unexpected shit happens in the fables and fairy tales I have kept on running and I sit in a corner in denial for some days, I rant and rave for some days, I just lost the capacity to weave a new fairy tale for future just like that. As if someone did some black magic or did some voodoo. This temporary loss in spinning my life tale is how I think of my depression and panic disorder.

Some of the reactions of people who heard I am depressed and recovering slowly has indicated how people perceived me and how according to my approved standard of behaviour it is, based on the fabled character I think I was. I have been so freakingly nicely behaved in life for so long, banishing every so called negative thought or emotion for so long, I did not have appreciation for anger, irritation, sadness, being off mood, lethargy, jealousy, pettiness or sheer rage. They were all put under the 'bad to have' label.

I am not intending to say that by being depressed I have become enlightened about THE TRUTHS of life and now I am a saint. Far from it, I am articulating my opinions without disclaimers or trying to push it all to the relativity realm and say ' at this moment I feel like this’. No I am thinking like this right now and I am sharing it with whoever that reads this blog what I am thinking.

There are brighter days when I want to get in touch with my friends and family members and there are days I won’t even smile back.

I am thinking of blogging away what I think and feel till I break free. I cannot promise that I will do it every day as that seems very tiring to even think. But I will do as the motivation builds up.

I have seen a good Psychiatrist and I am taking medication. As comments, I do not need suggestions about how to get out of depression unless you were depressed and got out.

King of the scorpions - Happy birthday

Happy birthday my dearest annayya - may this year be fantastic and whatever you want it to be :)

I will list things that come to my mind randomly from time to time when I think of you, (some of them are secrets too)

1. I have to see you once in 4-5 days if I am in Mysore. I know when I see you we always are in JK moments – either admiring a dog or a post or a film or something. If I dont do this then I start missing you terribly

2. I like listening to you when you have femme fatal situations and love your analysis of them. I love the sharing space we have

3. Grudgingly I admit that you know which sore spot to hit to make me a raging lunatic but the saving grace is I know yours too heh heh

4. I love the parrot talks and you are very adorable when that happens

5. You are very shy and bashful and dont take compliments well at all

6. Recently I was talking to a teenager and telling her about developing articulation as a skill, I have some because of you. Bird watching, star gazing, butterfly identification, greek mythologies,poetry, films, books, authors, poets and scores of others introduced by you. I can never forget the listening exercises (I was asked to write verbatim what we spoke after we spoke remember?)

7. I know I disappoint you by not sharing the same interests from time to time and I cant help it sometimes. I miss you when you are focused on something intensely and dont pay attention to me or whats up with me as well.

8. Your acknowledgement of what I do matters hell a lot to me

9. I am amazed at your skill to argue emphatically standing from different sides of an issue

10. You do not listen much to me when we are with others but do when you and I are alone. May be that is true for me as well sometimes

11. When you are happy you are wonderful and fun to be around

12. Some times quick to lose temper but always ready to explain why


Though you are king of exaggerated mockery some times, you are also the king of analysis, king of intense focus, king of curds, king of photoshop, king of torrents, king of innovative play activities for chinnu and so on .... making you the king of November – the scorpion king as christened by your fellow November fans. Thanks for being born before me :)

Depressed after being oppressed too long and repressing the emotions

I am right now emerging out of the blues of depression which had taken a strong hold on me since couple of months. I read some where that depression is nothing but anger spread very thin .. In my case many justified reasons to be angry at one hand and denial of my longing to set things straight to the known rhythm of 7 years at the other.

Now in retrospect I feel I can forgive people for what they did unto me because in a way they did this unto themselves (not a very christian thought when put like that I know).

Things look bright again and there are many small little big things I look forward to right now...
everyday joyous greeting of a frenzied puppy - chinnu the 4, she is demented and loves me that way too – a bite here and a spray of piss there and licks which land any where

talking and playing best of 7 with amma during the post lunch lull and listening to her reminiscing about people and places and sometimes I get to hear some long buried secrets as well

my neice Bhuvi messaging me and calling me on her current interest – running commentary of what chinnu is up to – I love this connection with her and by the way I heard she told her mom and dad that 'Aparna atthe is cooool' – dude what more do I need to gloat about and glow about?

The fun banter begins again with annayya – we are no longer two intense sulky and surly individuals and may be it indicates that both of us are resurfacing to our true selves and I love that feeling

waking up to a good mood is a blessing and venky makes it better with his unconditional taking care (I have not cooked a single meal in months and only recently I am paying attention to home maintenance)

The trip to Bangalore to be with my brother, sister in law and neice – looking forward to this a lot. I feel totally heard and understood in this place.

Our (Venky and me) three day mini vacation this month where when and how not planned yet

a surprise visit to Hospet to see our dear friends there this month some time
of course tonight – catching up and giggling with tikky

Hope is eternal and here is hope to stay as it should be :)

As a comment to the previous post this emerged..

I slept on my arms
tightened around my knees
which are resting on the
part of earth I am aware of

I can hear myself breath,
live life one beat at a time,
knowing that air around me
will be there,
the resting head will be up,

Loving my own smell
and loving myself a bit more
I love you as a part of the
earth we stand on,
the air we breathe on
and the scent of you a bit more ...

After watching bridges of Madison county

A woman sees a man,
he sees her
they start talking and talking
and talking,
they discover that their tastes are
some what similar and dissimilar

similarities relieve them
dissimilarities excite them
with a celebration of these
they start walking together

The child in each yearns for the child,
the childish excitement creates
many a mad moment,

The adult in each demands the adult
in the other to be responsive
in the carnal exploration
adulthood seems handy

years come and years go
similarities help in routine setting
dissimilarities lead to spoken or
unspoken conflicts

Talking turns to be around routines
Fighting around spoken and the unspoken
the inner child is silent and wants to sulk
imposing on itself a childish silence

Adult is consumed in inane things
of holding and running something
bigger than her and him put together
called life and life needs

one fine day,
a woman sees a man
he sees her,
they talk and talk and talk


How to hold on to this?

I know you

It is tasty to do that oh yes
to do the guessing game
of understanding others,
Ha, look now I am believing
my own fiction
I know this is the truth now

Now I know you better than
you know yourself I believe
Why you do what you do
and I have pegged all your motives to a tee
mind you, you need not talk to me about it
it is not necessary

I will pile my theories on you
in case you need to talk
then you only need to clarify
or justify or explain or sulk like a
bad sport!

may be this is why they say
god is in me
I create you, him and her
in my mind and
It is difficult to let go of this super power!

Coming of age

I know my hair is soft and silky, the colour is pitch black and lustrous. I know how much effort I put in making it that way. Paste of methi seeds one day, steaming the roots and hot towel treatment another day, oiling and massaging with camphor and neem leaf smoked coconut oil and what not.

I know men look at me when I go out and they know that I know that. With anticipation of the world applauding and falling to my feet, I go out feigning nonchalance, tossing my hair and with wide open ears.

I sing in the bathroom passionately and wish that a music director walking in the street suddenly discovers the haunting melody coming from an untapped original voice and eureka!

I secretly hope that people think that I am beautiful. When I look in the mirror I see that I am beautiful to myself but what do others think? I curse my pug nose at one time because it makes my face round like a circle at other times I think it is fashionable to have a distinct nose.

I get lost in fantasies listening to music. Aamir Khan comes to Mysore and is riveted on the spot when he sees me. (Ponds dreamflower talc ad!). He does not have any other go but to follow me and bawl at my feet. Wow too much. What will I tell mom when that happens? I still need to study and I am only 16! will he wait till I am older?

I write poems and I become famous because the writers discover the uncanny talent I have. I am the talk of the town. All I need to do is write and send it to publications.

I see a boy following me wherever I go. He is my neighbour. I teach English and Kannada to his young nieces along with my siblings. I give him a glance once in a while. His niece drops a letter in my lap one day. He is begging for my love, he is ready to face the world, he is ready to convince my parents, he is ready to wait, he is ready to take on anything.. all I have to do is say YES.

Ooohoooo, this is becoming way too serious mannn!! I dont need letters, you can follow me all you want but nothing further ok? Dont you get it? I do not see you like that at all and I have no intentions of marrying till another decade and a half and that too not to you by the way!

I share all the above haughtily. Whew thats that. I have cleared the matter. No misunderstandings. Nobody knows at home. My reputation is unscathed. Hurray!

I wake up to commotion of loud weeping voices, loud abuse in the street.. what else do you expect when you are living in such uncouth surroundings?

Wait, the abuse is aimed at me and my family, the wailing is because somebody died! The people thronging in the street are to find out what I will say to this!
HOLY CRAP what did I do? I brought disgrace to myself and to my family. I pushed someone to commit suicide. I am a vamp and the world hates me. People will throw stones at me and my mother will die because of the shame!

Should I commit suicide as well? But how to die? Where to buy poison or rope? God will it hurt?

Brothers are walking around chuckling, mother is weeping and angry and sister is chuckling and angry from time to time.

Ok when to die? How to die?

Naanna asked me to go with him on a walk. I went with him. Does he want to banish me from home? Will he leave me in the street and ask me to get lost?

So far my interactions with him were about demanding money for various things, joking around and getting tutored by him to do simple & compound interest problems for SSLC exam!

We go to the nearby stadium and sit. He is looking some where and telling me, “this area is not suitable for young girls like you, I am planning to shift the house immediately to a far away area, we will do this within 15 days, till then you stay with your sister in her hostel at Hassan, we will shift and fetch you from there, this area is full of people who do not have class”.

He held my hand while coming back. Am I his little girl again? I am given another chance to life? I will be so damn good this time, he will be proud of me.

Siblings can chuckle away and mother can weep but Naanna is going to make everything al right for me.
I will never go out of the house even unless required. I am going to be the most penitent dutiful daughter. Aamir Khan can wait …....

P.s: The guy did not die, he took sleeping pills and faked his own suicide. What a classless ass! But, thank heavens I will not go to jail!

Geometry of life

A line, a circle, a square and a triangle,
decided to have a party,
Line tried to measure the length of all,
circle tried the circumference,
triangle tried the angles
and the square tried equality

It is not easy to measure or
measure up to others
but still we do it like
geometric figures!
Are we two dimensional?

Memory remains ...

I heard his voice .......
Remembered huddling in bed
for hours talking, fighting and silent
Remembered that we used to
take walks and I shared aloud
what I thought of the young sun or green grass
his friend or something other
Joyous mornings they were

Remembered sitting on the cycle front
with him pedalling it
reaching our secret spot
known only to him and me

Remembered the spontaneous merry making
the protective hand on my shoulder while we crossed the road
the long letters during his absence
the promises we made without saying a word

Remembered him in my night gown
in my new dresses with a goofy smile

remembered them yet again!

Unholy silence

Words – un spoken have a life of their own
They sing and dance constantly on
the skeleton and the rattling
makes the bones porous

Unspoken words suddenly
shoot up one day and come out
as flustered tears for unexpected
reasons – looking at a TV soap

They sometimes sit heavily
on the chest and
make the heart pump faster
to shake them off

Some day, they sit in the stomach
blocking hunger,
they circle the eyes and they
paralyse the laughter muscles

Unspoken yet ringing as loud as
bells they make the hearing obscure

Unspoken words have a life of
their own!