Enchanting Days

Smell of petrol
wanting to eat chalk
playing office-office
fear of the dark

dusty roads
lazy afternoons
huddled in corners
helium balloons

red tricycle
candyfloss
goofy giggles
mumma's gloss

plastic pistols
oversized shoes
camel crayons
Swatkats, Baloos

magical days
all was good
I do indeed
miss my Childhood!

The Choice

Day after day
another, more
these thoughts they
keep rebounding
the more you try
to pull me in
these words they
keep resounding

unanswered questions
about the living, life
unending search
to lay off
this inner strife

this bitter quarrel
a constant battle
between
your world and mine
one says rise
rise to closure
the other tells me
to shine
your world is cruel
led by them loathers
where only the fittest
survive
but mine is one
where heart prevails
wounds are healed
where strength
I'll help revive

but courage it needs
a lot of it
and I'm afraid my dams
too shallow
with time
I fear it might burn out
the pity in which
I wallow
will you be there
beside me still
when the strength
within me dies
will you wake me up
to my world then
where my heart really lies

I'm afraid
I'm scared
to step out alone
the dimness may
mar my sight
unsure unclear
of the mettle it takes
to drive away
those monsters of the night
confused, befuddled
I wander till then
I wait
I wander
I wait

for the moment
when all this muddiness
will start to make
some sense
when I can live
the way I want to
put away this
mask of pretense

Rise and Shine

O Dragon,
Rise and Shine.

Rise. Steady, Slow.
you still have the power to grow
deep down 'they all' opine.
 
Shine. Glow.
of all, 'You' must know
you have within you
beauty pristine.

To you, before it sublimes

- dedicated to the so-called 'crushes' people have ;)


A thump of heart

Like a step it skipped

Attention divided

In anxiety it flipped

Kept all this concealed

Eyes focussed on the floor

Just as you passed by

My joy would soar

Was it your panache?

Or was it just me losing ground

The increase in volume

Gait of the zippy kind

When I knew you were

Coming from behind

All attention on you

Yet pretending

It wasn’t true

Was it your charm?

Or was it just me enchanted

That pang of envy

When you

talked to another

And more hurt

When you

didn’t even bother

Were you playing games?

Or was it just me getting deceived

A lonely walk

Along the crowded lane

Hoping you’d cross by

Always in vain

A sight of you

Made my day

No sign of you

Led my mind astray

Was it your presence?

Or was it just me longing for it

Once or twice

You looking at me

I think I did find

Your poses, your ways

Showing you were inclined

The long chats

Those times together

Impishly teasing

When you’d much rather

Was it you too?

Or was it just me being a cuckoo? 

from Under the Veil

misfit? unfit?

vague and fake

in gloom I wake

I’m shattered I’m scattered

I’m hollow I’m battered

Disquieted, I’m straying

I sinned then

Now I’m praying

misfit? unfit?

I’m wired but tired

tired of this chase

constant disgrace

tired of being me

of trying to be somebody

ending up being someone

someone I’m not

forgot with what I set off

discarding what I got

misfit? unfit?

I’m narrow I’m shallow

Weakened, shaken

with this hurt

I’m wholly taken

pain disdain

efforts gone in vain

I deceived, I got defeated

Now I'm left with

no soul, just clay

I cheated then

My morals sway

misfit? unfit?

I’m beaten, I’m broken

Can anyone mend?

Can’t take it longer

when will this end

That what I forgot, when shall I learn

That what I desire, when shall I earn

#1 - Parmita - Wandering Wisdom of the Carefree Twosome

#Upside Downside upside down

The 100 Rupee Note

It was only half a kilometer walk to the Metro station from their college, yet they used to take a cycle-rickshaw daily. For a frail man in humble clothes and worn out chappals, riding a rickshaw a few kilometres was also a troubling sight. Yet, there he was, earning his bread by doing some work rather than begging. This was the sole reason they preferred taking his rickshaw. He was earning with dignity, they were trying to help him do it. Both Paridhi and Amita, despite their diametric natures, were very particular about righteousness.

But one day in a rush to make it to a meeting they were already running late for, they sat behind a much younger and well-built rickshaw-puller and asked him to hurry the cycle up. The man however stopped midway with a jolt. He’d found a 100 rupee note lying on the road. He picked it up, pocketed it and sped the rickshaw even before they could ask the reason for this sudden halt.

Paridhi felt strongly against it. “How can he do it? This is so bad. He should have looked around for someone who might have dropped it!” she exclaimed. Amita was perplexed, “But somebody else would have falsely claimed it in that case. How can you trust the others around here?”

“Oh come on, it doesn’t need a genius to figure out who’s being genuine and who’s not. And no matter what you say, one fact is clear, This man is bad. It's people like him only who make us skeptical of trusting anyone else. I am never going to sit in his rickshaw again!” declared an annoyed Paridhi.

They reached the college. Amita was still wondering aloud, “You know, I once participated in a debate in class 11, the topic was ‘Chance Favours the Bold’. Perhaps he too is bold enough to take advantage of his chance, after all he is poor and must be having a family to look after”.

“Oh damn its 11:20am! Hurry up Ami, we’re late already. We'll get back to this discussion later.”

Grab the Chocolate! It doesn't come easy.

Two years later. On Phone,

Amita: Hey Par! Did you check your mail? The project we helped Prof. Dayal with is getting published! They're putting our name too in there.

Paridhi: “Oh! Wow! Awesome! Yae dude, finally we’re getting rewarded!”

Amita: “But it's disturbing me. We didn’t do that much work on this one. We don’t deserve this.”

Paridhi: “What crap! Don't you remember how that ‘Fraudy Shyamareddy’ had stolen our work and gotten it published without so much as peanuts to us for acknowledgement? And how he had hidden the fact from us for full one year! We are getting repaid for what we lost then. It comes back. Don't you worry. God takes things away. It's his way of giving it back.”

Amita: “But, this is also not right. We know we didn’t work enough. Prof. Dayal knows it too. How can we face him. I’ll feel ashamed of myself.”

Paridhi: “Haven’t you read Charlie and the Chocolate Factory by Roahld Dahl? Would Charlie have earned the Chocolate factory had he not picked up the chocolate on road? You’d say he did the wrong thing, but even you can’t deny that if anyone ever deserved to win the factory, it was him. (Mischieviously) So dudette, what do you do when you see an unopened chocolate bar?”

Amita: “Hmm, you’re right. I’m only over-reacting. (Cheerful all of a sudden) Yeah, the chocolate bar? We grab it and eat it; we finish it off like no-one deserved it more!”

Both: “Ha ha ha ha....”

The laughter and a fresh gust of cool air from the balcony made them push the issue to the back of their minds.

Afterthoughts

What is morality? How much of it is right? Because after all excess of everything is bad. Grab Opportunities they say. Life is a game of Snakes and Ladders. Would you be a fool to leave the ladder and pursue the road the hard way? Then what justifies the snake-bites?

And if Parmita’s name appearing in the research paper is justified then what was that rickshaw-pullers fault? Wasn’t he right in taking that 100rs note? Wasn’t this a way of God helping him?

What is righteousness really?

Parmita - Wandering Wisdom of the Carefree Twosome

# Prologue

Who is Parmita?

This series is about two best friends, Paridhi and Amita who, like their names, were very opposite in nature. Paridhi (meaning limit/seema) was a self-proclaimed introvert who loved to sit back, observe and delve in introspection on people, things and events around her. There was a curious mystery about her; the subtle smile on her calm thoughtful face revealed only so much. Amita (meaning limitless) on the other hand was just the opposite. A typical tomboy, she loved to hang out with friends. A game of basket-ball, a long ride on her scooty without the driving licence, singing (or croaking?) at the top of her voice were her ideas of having fun.


And just as they say 'Unlike poles attract each other', they went on to become the best of friends. More famous for the pranks they played on people, lecture bunking and other crazy stuff they did at college than any other thing, they were truly an inseparable duo, so much so that everyone used to refer to them by 'Par-mita'. Little did people know that the nick-name they had bestowed upon the seemingly carefree twosome had its own meaning too. Wisdom. Although dissimilar, a common ambitious streak in both saw them 'Co-operating' to 'Dominate' wherever they went. Literary society, technical club, placement coordination, during the four years of their under graduation there wasn't a single area left where they hadn't shown their excellence.


This will to do do it all, and do it all together was what made them friends forever. Their usual nine-to-five college-home schedule contained within it some unique experiences of its own kind. The time they spent together played a significant role in two frivolous adolescents growing up to be mature and intellectual individuals.


Wandering Wisdom of the Carefree Twosome

This series will comprise of random recollections (sometimes reflections too) of the open-ended discussions (mostly arguments, owing to their 150 degree apart attitudes) they had while talking about people, their attitudes, things and life in general.


My aim is to pen down down the fun, sad, mad, bad, crazy, lazy times from the life of Paridhi and Amita, anything that resulted in something worth giving a thought to (in no particular order!). Let's see how these come about. :)


Link to Part 1

#Draft

#
There it stands with eyes full of hope, longing, belonging, heart ajar
Why does it forget it is but a Dragon, lonesome, bereft, scared, far
#
cool breeze brushes past her face, she can see bright lights, the sky
and theres a longing to break free but freedom, these walls, deny

#
with hurt and wrath and fury galore
thats when the dragon will freely soar

‘Being’ Human

Innocence, joy, beauty divine
Trust, purity, Virtuous shine

Then gradually takes off, the sojourn
See, hear, pick up, learn

Busy roads, their fussy rodeos
Who dies who cares, go on, no slows

Impatience, intolerance, screech, cry
Scheme, plot, on the sly

Trash White, Mint Green
Hollow within, exterior sheen

Unabashed skill, matchless thrills
In ‘hunting’ down the ‘goods’ and ‘wills’

Merciless, it's all cut throat
A rider surrenders? Ridicule, gloat

Sceptics cynics egotists
Cloaked loathers, ain’t no bricks

Rusting bones, strained muscles
Bearing on unending tussles

Alas! This all is but a rat race
They fell from mount, we fall from grace.

Irony?

~Then
With each passing hour the frustration builds
With each passing day the talents burn
Just want this tragedy to end
Just want to leave to never return...

~Now
With each passing hour the desire escalates
With each passing day the strivers yearn
Don't want this rigour to cease at all
Don't want an end to this sojourn...

The bigger irony is was I happier then or am I happier now? The hurt then was different from what it is now, but its been there all along.

If Only

That was the time not long from now
When I had witnessed how
Her unsound mother had wounded her,
In hope of stirring pity
I looked around for someone to rescue the poor soul
From this heartless severity
But the policeman there had cruelly laughed
Quite indifferent to her cries
And in my mind the picture got painted
Of the helplessness and anguish in her eyes



Since then, the little girl at the junction there
I see her at the dawn
When I am fresh from morning brew
There’s hope and bounce in my gait
She lays there with eyes sunken and pale
From this pain she is outworn

I cry for her, I pray for her,
For she’s just a kid of four
If Only my tears could bring to her
The glow of morning dew
If Only my prayers could wipe away her worries
As waves on a pleasant sea shore



Since then, the little girl at the junction there
I see her at midday
As I look through my air conditioned cabin
Gloating over my dessert plate
She stands there bearing charring sunlight,
For a drop of cool water she does wait

I cry for her, I pray for her,
Quite deaf to her cries of pain
If Only my tears had the power
To quench her thirst for life
If Only my prayers could promise her
That He’d soon conclude this strife



Since then, the little girl at the junction there
I see her every night
As I retreat to my cosy abode
She sits there in the biting cold, alone with her woeful plight

I cry for her, I pray for her,
I see in silence the asperity she endures
If Only my tears could give her the warmth
A mother’s embrace gives to her child
If Only my prayers could bear away
The soreness of that hard floor



The little girl at the junction there
I see her day in day out
She’s at the junction of life and death
Her silent screams shout out