'I do'-Not

Last night I got a call from one of my classmates from Graduation days. Was I surprised? Well, yes. But, more so because the reason she called me all these years later was that she was getting married!!! Well, surprised? Shocked? Quite. Rather expectedly, she went on to narrate the little (read unnecessary) details of where they both met…and how he was… and how great things were. Like any other “madly in love” couple they had decided to solemnize their relationship. I don’t know if it was funny (but definitely was ironic) that the next time I took a call it declared a separation. So, how does this marriage thing work? When does the “bond” becomes the “binding”? Is every other person tying the knot, tying it around their necks? And most importantly, do we need to follow the usual path to be happy?


You find it all the time, and mostly in marriage functions. People (read society aunties) give their not-so-trifle tit-bits about your age and marital status. As it appears, everything is co-related. Teenage is supposed to be for studies and honing your skills and getting a career sorted. But, by the time you landed with a job and started taking it really seriously, the wedding bells come ringing. And if your parents are unfortunate enough as to not be able to get you hitched even after the decent age of 25, hear the alarm bells ringing!! It’s almost like you are carrying the beacon on your head and every time your mother coaxes into a family function you become the official recipient of the tragic looks and tut-ings and shaking of the heads…which is meant to wake your sleepy marriage gene up and also your lack of responsibility…towards what exactly? Towards you family..the society...the human race! Really now?


The question is what if you are not meant for marriage or the other way round?? Why does everything in this world have to work in tandem with the set rules? And who set these rules? Does the only need of human togetherness come down to conception and reproduction and continuing the race? Why can’t two people be together for the sake of being together? Why get into legal boundaries and such complexities? Now, some may find me commitment phobic or worse still, westernized pseudo-radical. However, my queries are simple. Remember school? When a task given was made compulsory, it became mundane and seemed forced on. Similarly, marriage. Why make it compulsory that you have to be with so and so and abide by duties that follow…??? Why not stick to ‘Love it, Live it’?


Most marriages I have been to seem like the couple are getting sanctions from the family members and witnesses from the clan so that one couldn’t leave the other without facing the wrath of a whole lot of people.
Sanctity of marriage is another thing now. Fidelity is dead (and you thought it was only chivalry). After having seen a whole bunch of married people frustrated and seeking solace is someone else, I think all that remained in a marriage that made it special has been stripped off. So, where does one go? Does life have to have this set course? It always seemed to me like marriage and making babies was the ultimate everyone looked at? Well, what after that? Do we cease to be ourselves? Or do we become the resource people for the next generation?


It is not like there aren’t any happy married couples…only that happiness asks for a lot. Who give some, you get some. No two people were made to fit in perfectly. Rough edges always appear sooner or later, and then follows cool compromise. When I look at the four of us, I see confusions, problems, ambition and a near-messed-up life. But, I would never give it all up for the ‘M’ word. Striding in my stilettoes, I know it’s a long long way before I smile for my own wedding pic (if ever).

Resolutions...Anyone??

Things I wanna do this year:

a) Take up a job

b) Start saving for my apartment

c) Get a fat cat and name it "Muffins"

d) Finish at least one film

e) Start writing letters again

f) Cook (like proper cook-cook) every month

The New-You

I am kinda at loss for words. Too much excitement does that to you, I’m told. Really? Okay, so maybe I am excited. I am leaving behind the last year of my life, and if I come to think of it, the most dramatic year of my life. So many people, so many experiences, so many trials and heartbreaks… But, finally landed just fine. I always love this time of the year, and it’s not just the weather with the soft sunlight and nippy air. It is also life (I will never get tired of this one…huh!)…it’s like you are not here not there…just standing on the threshold. Like waiting for the moment when you unwrap your Christmas present! Who knows what’s in there!!
Yes, despite the bitterness caused by some people, I am on my feet again. . It‘s the new year, it’s time for new prospects, new projects and new attachments. Life is quite obsessive about its pace. It goes on, as they say...I know and how!! Time heals everything is what I hear after every failed relationship (and they have been quite a few). It has been three long months, and things have changed. I have evolved, and what do you know so have my girlies. It is official, WE ARE SINGLE AND HAPPY.

Brish called off her tug-of-war equation with that ‘meet Mr. Immaturity,’ Trish has stopped hankering after the electronically modified speech signals from far off Calcutta, and as for me I don’t even think about it. So yes, back to square one, you could say. But, not quite. This entire nuisance we went through in the name of saving our relationships has taught us some important home truths (which I am saving for some other day). We are on a whole new trajectory, and it is so much fun. Personally speaking, it is only after my last relationship did not work out that I realized how happy am out of it.

But, our great old creator up there among the rolling snow white clouds, must have had something great in his head. He introduced me to someone. It was perfect. Not love at first sight, but love nonetheless. Welcome my new girlie Chaand…Seriously, if Three is a Crowd....Four is Fabulous...

Until next time..Ciao.

Scribbling some Stray Thoughts

I was a zombie in that lighted fair...the poles and arches adorned in light reminded me of the silk cobweb drenched in the morning dew.A sudden warmth brought me back to consciousness.My beautiful child looked like a wide-eyed wanderer...I shook her fingers, she looked up at me and with the enthusiasm of a one who had spotted El Dorado, Lucy sang.."London bridge is falling down,my fair lady.."
I strained my ears.In the chaos of this big chaos, I thought I heard my favourite song.Yes,that surely was the song...my finger tips were already dancing with the stimulii..I surely heard the song.Now high..now low..so the wave did flow.But did I really hear it?What if I didn't??Yes, the "no" has already stopped the song..it's moving away from my mind.What nullity had I succumbed to..
Walking down the stairs step by step in a little fury, I saw the cinematic clipping of the running rail-road...one bar after another..running so fast.God knows why it drew the thought of death to me..
Like the many disagreeable noises, the sound of the crying infant wrenches the heart somewhere.Then, I would rave about in violent uneasiness trying to pacify the soul of that howling mite.
I laid back on my pillow failing to gain any peace.I still had my spects on.I opened my eyes again.The dirty corner still stood.A wave of anger and suppressed pain at being disobeyed crashed against my heart.Tomorrow ,I'll fire that stupid,lazy maid.
I see the multitudinous ocean of human faces from my window..".we have so much of body that there is no room for soul"...who said that??...."all bending down-wrist by wrist,feet by feet marching towards the ultimate Fall.
The old pair of slippers worn over years still going strong.The feet were practically imprinted on them...as though the ghost of the wearer still claimed them.
Rimless,crystal clear spects.She said she had kept them with special care.They were special..but in which way I couldnot understand...strange little philosophies humans adhere to...
Thick, yellow candles with "ave maria" sketched across in blazing red...
After our jig, we found the 'basti' people dancing madly, on the other side of the compound wall..this part took a curious pleasure in their little fulfillment...and we dancing within our sophisticated four walls and blind legalisation of our sentiments mocked with sarcasm at the jumping fools.
Standing on the balcony, she checked the shadow of her earthly form that the full moon had cast...engulfed in self.Pitiable,little narcissist.
He was a regular beggar in his threadbare coat.

Wildflower

for my dear child Ann
lil brunnete...child of the wild winds n cold rains..but she is soothing to one that needs her. Sleeping in oblivious calm she is in her native land :a strange land of overwhelming paradoxes..of stark white and blatant black. There she is among her playmates...whirling around in splendid circles that blaze and scare, and touch and move.She laughes, and I am glad she does so. Does it frighten you, you bony man, you old fossil?To me it is a spark of joy, of wanton playfulness, of terrible power, of burning magic, of covetous dreams, of wildflowers, of bounding leaps...
Vigourous and vindictive, but not vapid. Her eyes spell out quaint queries, and man might shamefacedly stare or stoop to it all. None is answerable. So true. On a bitter winter evening, sitting lonely on a cold couch she looks out to see the multitude of nothingness, of waste and silent clamour. She sings old songs of lost alleys, long forsaken by her fellows. She counts the taps of the nude tree branch against her window pane and thinks of what others are doing right at that moment in their homes, neighbourhoods,lanes and countries. I leave her there among the silence of a dying day to ponder and argue and laugh and talk. But I do not leave empty handed, I have a little light that I borrowed from her...little but enough for me. Her gurgling laughter and evocative silence let's my soul expand and breath.
The last I see her in absolute whiteness...dancing in the garden daisies...her little fingers played with the air and an invisible tune found its way to the denizens of her world, of which I had lately become a part. It was the laughter of some ethereal creation of God. I know not what pleasures lay in that mid-summer morning, among few swaying daisies and honey-drunken butterflies. She seemed to be in a trance..she swirled in grace...the aura caught her. I danced too. Her frenzy was contagious...End the scene with light hearted mirth and such soluble sentiments.
Even today, that aura is inviting, the music is flowing, and the dance is being danced...but it is out of focus for me...Ann has moved away, she has moved ahead... giving all she has to a someone different...ages part us. Still, to me she is that child of dreams, almost unreal...she is the sky and she is the abyss, she is the song and she is the singer, she is the lyre and she is the music...she is storm and she is tranquility. My little doll of binaries. She stands forever between me and time...the world is behind me, and God behind her.

Hiding in the Late October Shadows

I scribbled..and scratched off my lines...

Pondered on for some honey-dipped words

Singing of golden old days of lethargic sing-song..

But, my vanity got the better of me..

Looked out and the rest was ..oh but

A well-defined blur..and they said..

That my eyes were failing me..

Or triviality had welled..from the shaky,shallow

Awareness of the self..

Huh..if only i could laugh..

But there is more to that than fragmented

Tug-of-wars..than winning in this wicked child's play..

Many aeons far..i had promised to fight this..

But,now hiding in the late october shadows..

I hear the cacophonic truce beating at my doors..

And lo..where's my vanity..my pride..my protector

Nowhere to be seen..while i crouch in dimmed desperation

To be rescued..by time..man...or that god..

To go back...amidst the snowy curtains..

Lover's embrace..or mother's lap.

Far from this wordy world...n sleep

They are all dying..with days

But I donot give up on

My unheroic pursuit..

For my touchstone...

Who needed a heaven,if this world was bliss..?

In the sheets of silence..

So Much for Love

As I promised myself the last time, I'll tackle love.Now, love is a quaint business.I many a times flattered myself with the cliched soft sensation and all the rest.But, sometime or the other the bubble burst and I was out in the open with nothing as I wished it to be.Nah,never in love.I spend my days listening to the cute tales of my friends' love lives, browsing through their pictures(feeling their happiness),reading Jane Austen,dreaming a lot more than I ought to do and getting a lot fatter than I would like to admit.But there is a lovely thing about dreaming(when you can afford to do it),dreaming about good times and things to come.I watch fruitless romances with baited breath and a gallon of tears(of joy) to accompany in the end.I sigh and gasp and smile and dance(sometimes)when they meet each other in the end.I like to think that I am in love too!!with this ..what should I call it??...this vision.That is how I like it.


I think love is too delicate a sentiment to come out of an old book, or a good painting, or an Austen romance, and merry songs and actually thrive in the real world.Go on eat off my head all you people "violently" in love.But, somethings are just too good to be true.It is a muse to the artist: love can actually make you happy,very happy.But that is as long as you keep it to yourself;the minute a someone enters, the magic is gone,the charm vanishes and many things much less divine try to substitute.Now, will that keep love ,love?There is this poem, one of my favourites by a certain someone we were taught to like in our graduation classes.It goes something like this:
I WHISPERED, "I am too young,"
And then, "I am old enough;"
Wherefore I threw a penny
To find out if I might love.

"Go and love, go and love, young man,
If the lady be young and fair."
Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny,
I am looped in the loops of her hair.

O love is the crooked thing,
There is nobody wise enough
To find out all that is in it,
For he would be thinking of love.

Till the stars had run away
And the shadows eaten the moon.
Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny,
One cannot begin it too soon.

Now, it doesnot really matter if you have heard of a mad fellow Yeats and Maud Gonne or not,also it doesnot matter whether we have been in love or not...we can all understand the feelings of this frustrated, failed, crossed lover.It is universal ,though not real for everyone.For me love feeds on the ideal.That is how I'll let it be: a quaint, framed picture on my bedside desk, that I love to look at now and then.

P.S:????