Celebrations

Its a time when every one in the world is celebrating, dressed in their finest and resplendent with joy. They are playing his song for the first time today, his words, so powerful that the existence of music ceases to matter. And lovers dance, moving as one, to an overwhelming feeling. Weather some one came out on a first date, a casual encounter or to celebrate with their love, every one is soaked in the intense feeling that burns them with a vague yet acute desire for their partner. His cries of pain are fading away into the same music playing somewhere far away. There is a song in his heart, and you can hear it. Not by the sound of the music, but by the feeble , yet effort-full movement of his lips. Now there is a song on his lips.

As music starts, a man, gently holding on to the hand of his lady, leads her to the dance floor. With their dancing, but more so with the emotion brought forth by the words of his songs, the man and the women start becoming one. The hand that till now was only gently brushing over her delicate shoulders, now smears over her arm as if trying to get inside her skin. Her eyes that were till now dancing around and expressing joy are now staring right into his. The power of the music, the song, the words had brought the flamboyance out of all the lovers present in the hall.
Lying on his hard bed,he twitches his feet ever so slightly, as if checking to see if he still has some life left in his body. Its a dimly lit room, dulled by time, devoid of color, let alone any details.
His pale yellow face and his bloodshot eyes barely noticeable.
The red neon light darts across the floor, giving the golden yellow confetti an enthralling glaze in the back drop of a purposefully dimly lit ballroom. The songs continue to hold the couples on the floor and the breaths are getting heavier by the second. Inhibitions have taken away egos with them.
While some where else, the breaths are getting slower and slower. The medication has not taken away the disease, but only the pain, and with it the will to live. But not the will to create songs. The same twitch of the feet, well nearly. And nothing after that.

And as the crowd shouts for an encore , of his songs that were being played, a star is born.
And a Star who could never be has breathed his last.

Coffee

There is a whole world inside the coffee shop, but outside there is none.Sitting
in a coffee shop,I see the life in all its forms confined into that small yet rich place.
People don't just buy coffee for coffee. Some people buy coffee for their love for

coffee,some buy coffee for their love. Some others buy coffee, just because they
 can afford to.

"More coffee??" the waiter smiles.. "yes please!!!", and he is off to fetch more.

There is a couple ordering more coffee, just to buy more time with each other.
There is another, hoping by the time they are done with theirs, things between
them would be all right. The bookworm wants people to know that she only cares
about her coffee and the book , yet all she cares about is who all are watching her.
The three people at the corner are all wide eyed, trying to appear interested in
their conversation, while really there are just judging each other, making mental notes.
Suited man with a calculator and a bunch of papers is trying to rape the scared woman's
fear of her future and sell her an investment plan. The women is drinking coffee to calm
her self, and the man, to calm the women. The college kids are reveling in the intoxicating
thrill of being " mocha" and "hazelnut" aware. More cups arrive. Afternoon revelers settle
in on their table to have some, just because of the lack of any other thing to do.
The guy at the counter sells coffee to be able to go to college. The group of youngsters
in the smoking section go to college to visit coffee shops.

The heady fragrance in the air isn't all beans, its a brew of emotions each one coming
in contact with the coffee is carrying deep within. There are very many fancy names
and fancy cups. But each caries in it the essence steaming from the mere existence
of things. For it to be coffee, it would need a precarious, balance of bitter and sweet.
For it to be life, it would need coffee in it. There is a whole world inside the coffee s
hop, while out there , there is none.

No Greys

There is more to life than broken hearts.
Young boys skin their knees, playing in the parks.
There is more to every one that what meets the eye.
Who hasn't wished, he had a cape and could fly.

There are many things one can never be.
We imagine ourselves in the grandiose we see.
Not knowing brings curiosity, knowing brings despair.
Secrets reveled, cause damage beyond repair.

Toughest of things take care of themselves.
Giving up is easy, yet hard as hell.
Understanding loved ones can be a challenge at times.
Strangers forever can have the happiest of lives.

Conversations very often don't impact the mind.
A silent moment can set things right.
All modern luxuries mean so much to me and you.
Pills save lives but kill babies too.

Yes it would be great if you had a little more.
But a cheap razor solves problems as well as a twelve bore.

Living like a Tug boat...

Tug boat, haven't we all seen one or used one or been one at some point of time in our lives. They are such an amazing things, with a fabulously ordinary story. Even the mightiest of ships, cargo , cruise liners etc need one, without fail. A large ship might be able to fight its way through the stormiest of weather, the tallest of waves and speed through the deepest points in the ocean, but it still needs some thing that can pull it across through the shallow waters and lead it out into the sea. Tug boats do that. Tirelessly. They don't belong to the deep sea, out there , they are no better then a floating barrel or the wooden logs of a shipwreck. They have a space from which they are indispensable, and where they help kick of great journeys.
Sure its the ship that braves the current, that fights the ocean's hungry jaws and comes out victorious. But don't forget who helps it get their. Tug boats rarely find mention in the tales of the glorious voyages a vessel has been to. Do all ships face the storm, do all ships get caught in the waves, no not all of them. In fact more often then not deep waters are smooth sailing for those big vessels with their giant, dirt free, scratch free propellers and their glistening bodies. And on the other hand, no journey starts or ends without the ship having to face the shallow slitted, slugged waters. Just because the ship overcame bigger obstacle on its own, the contribution of a boat can not be belittled.

Don't we all see that happening in our lives every day??

We have all been tugged in our lives , pushed or nudged around, maneuvered and turned around till we are ale to get up and get going on our own . We have all helped some one kick start their lives, that lead to big things. We have all at some point, soiled our selves with the sludge and slit of shallow waters, to make the other person go out and face the waves. The fact that you weren't around or not able to pull that person out of his troubled waters counts more then the fact that you gave him or her a chance to cross the seas. Some tug boats go on to be ships themselves, unaware of those little contributions people are making around them, but angry about the little things that they did to people that went unnoticed. Stop, if u are tired being some ones tug boat. Be your on ship and your own voyage.

Scars

I feel blessed to have them,
and I wear my scars with pride.

E stare,as I walk around with them,
enjoying my moment of lime light.

Everyday struggles keep them fresh,
and I relieve my self as I bleed through them.

I remember the moments when I got each of these,
in both victory and defeat alike.

Each moment when I love or fight or live or die,
my scars are my strength , my aide.

Me. .

Frozen by the heat
made fluid by the cold in the hearts
Livid in spiritless world
Amok in dead calms

Artless in inspiration
Matchless in aspirations
Scathed by applause
tickled by claws

Cherishing the alcove
repulsed by company
Disheartened at the apex
but spirited after a fall

Praised for the Ordinary
ridiculed for bringing a dawn
Dull at the beginnings
ending with an aplomb

Getting bored of people
but intrigued by the world
Sure of my indecision
and eager as hell to perform

Rooted in the shine
of a cluttered mind
Blinded by the aesthetics
of a clear heart

Consecrating the demons
and crucifying mild souls
stepping on flowerbeds
while grooming the thorns

Overlooking perfections
while seeking flaws
trying not to be
while being it all

Me.
my biggest mystery so far...

I love you and you and you. ..

Do I need to say more?

Run

I have had a life far too ordinary to write about. And right now, when I look at it, in my current state of mind it feels far too uneventful to talk about as well.Its as if I have derived pleasure from taking my life to a certain high and then letting go, never bothering to just kick a little to jump over the wall and on to the other side. I am not at all at any thing and every thing I take up, but what I am really good at is squandering away the early advantage . Another trend that i have noticed lately about my modus operandi on life is that the closer I get to cracking something big, or latching on to something good, the more content and relaxed I become.Rather more disinterested.. And when the time requires one to stay low and sail with the winds, that's when I get restless and flutter the most. The end result is that I am not able to break ahead of the pack... despite burning much more rubber then any one else. Not all potentials are realized, some not timely others never at all. Its like i am not sure what describes be best, world class runner chained to a heavy load or a non-athlete on power boosters.. I guess I am just a crippled child waiting for my Jenny to come in my life and say to me .. "Run Forrest, Run"."

Late or in time..

As his official car dropped him on the highway close to his destination , he could see some people, and instinctively knew they were waiting for him. As he rode with them to the house, the mood of the occasion was shared by every one with minimal words. With so much that she had told him, he could have made his way to the place all by himself based on her descriptions. Out at the door, there was a frenzy of activity. There was a crowd in the house. Despite never having met them , he could recognize all her uncles and aunts and cousins. She had told him so much about every thing and every one. There were flowers and there was the priest, clearly all arrangements have long been made and it was only he who was awaited. He was still in his military fatigues. As he was ushered into the room, he caught a first sight of her. She was still looking radiant and lovely despite it been such a long time. He was posted at a distant place and so he could not be there any sooner. He inched closer to her, fearing the worst, but he had braced himself for this on his 12 hour journey and managed to contain himself. The last rites were completed without too much being said. And he walked back to the same highway he came from. Still in his fatigues and caring his sack. Some times the Soldier comes back home from war, but there is no one waiting for him.

Back

Going back !! its the toughest walk home.Every single time.
There is going to be another week and another weekend,
yet the disappointment is too hard to keep off. As much as
he wants their time together to not end, he also longs for those
good byes to be quick and short.He becomes curt, and edgy.
He skimmers in and out of a good bye hug as if its scalding his
skin. There is a sudden haste with which he brings the on going
conversations to an abrupt end. And skittles out.He is altogether
a different man when leaving. The moment he had gone a little
distance, he is plunged into this guilt of being almost rude.
And soon enough the barrage of unsaid things fills up the mind.
The farther he gets, easier it gets for him to see all that is wrong
in the world around him. Or just so it starts to seem. Agitated and
irritated he grows more and more tired by the minute. His mind
cant think of any place he'd rather be at this moment.
Going back !! it really is the toughest walk home.

move on ..

When eyes meet,
and words are still needed.
When the touch thrills,
but only momentarily.
When questions need to be asked,
as much as they need to be answered.
When the hands touch while walking,
and are pulled back.
When the pleasantries are exchanged,
while thinking of more to say.
When waking up at night,
is awaited yet troubling.
When there is a need to explain,
and explanations are sought.
when gifts start to gather dust,
just like the memories.
When judgements are made
and held firm.
While trust that ought not to be,
is allowed to go weak.
When an embrace weakens,
both knees and resolve.
When an hour in the sun,
is too much effort for a day together.
When the love is gone,
move on ..

All churned up

I feel groggy to the bone, having been disturbed in my sleep at 2:00 am, and now being sleep deprived and awake for close to 13 hours. I turn on my desktop, thinking I would spend some time surfing. Just as the first web page is loading up, I think of watching a movie I have on my laptop, I power up my laptop and as it whirrs and winds to life, I drift away to the TV room and sprawl my self like a weed on the couch. I reach for the news paper and with it i also grab the TV remote. I make my way to the editorial page and zero in on the article I wish to read, about 3 quarters of the first paragraph later , I turn on the TV and go to channel one. I start my epical journey towards the end of the channel stream , but since the last channels leads you back to the first one, the journey is in constant loop back. About two and a half revolutions later , I hear my cellphone beep. I get up in a frenzy and start looking for it. I find it next to the financial savings forms I was filling up, I had already put my name in three places on it. I check my phone, there was nothing on it, and it was in silent mode. I turn off the silent mode, and start playing tennis game on my cellphone. I pause for a quick moment to find that movie on my laptop and play it. Lying down on my bed facing the laptop screen I continue with the game on my cell phone. I am reminded of this bag of chips I brought last evening and dash off to look for it, i pour my self a glass of juice, but then i realises i really carved a lemon soda, so i top up my glass with some fizz, and land on the drawing room couch. Trying to work on my pending finalcial forms i drifted to sleep. I just woke up, the fan air has scattred my forms all over the room, and i have made a mess of the newspaper by sleeping over it. My cell phone shows 3 missed calls and 2 new messages. My juice lemon soda is almost curdling up now and the movie has ended on my laptop.
And with it has ended a hectic sunday.

Oiled up

Okie so I do this, time and again, out of my free will. Well actually I like to do this and feel great while I am at it. I haven't seen no one else do this. While a lot of them sneer freakishly at the mere thought of it, I am still a little boastful of it, and love basking in all its glory and shine (literally) . Despite the public opinion stating it to be "not the done thing". I revel in it. So what if it would be an uncool thing, even for someone whose standards of coolness have over the years stooped as low as mine. I oil my hair to work. and love every moment. You heard it. Every ones in a while, when i am either too worried of an impending baldage or of the intense mental work at the job giving me a senile decay much before I'd want it. Other times its because of some pearly grays in my quarter of a century old head and some other times its just because i don't care any more. No I am no geek, but i am not the one to loose my sleep worrying over always doing the in thing.
Its my way of liberation my self from the strictly defined norms of dos and dont's. My own protest to what ever i dont agree with. Because i firmly believe its not the Geeks,meeks, beautiful or the beastly.. but the slick who shall inherit the earth.

Who lost what?

She was pretty, in a conventional way, and attractive too. It
wouldn't have taken much for any one to like her as a friend,
or even fall for her. She has never had a boy friend in her 24
years of existence, but she never worried too much about it.
She has had crushes, and massively strong ones. But all her
crushes have been either Hollywood film stars or cricketers.
She was out going, literally "out every week" person. And
she took her company bus at 7 :30 every morning to work.
Her bus used to stop to pick up some colleagues, a couple of
blocks down the road where he used to stand, waiting for his
company bus to pick him up. She could not remember when
was the first time she saw him, and when did she consciously
noticed him. The first thing she noticed was not his daily
presence, but his conspicuous absence at the bus stop.
For a week , she looked out the window, long before the bus
had reached the place where he used to wait, and for a week
she felt a tinge of disappointment at not seeing him there.
Then as he reappeared after a week, apparently back from a
vacation, she was visibly happy through out the day at work.
She began noticing him closely, and as girls do , began critically
and minutely analyzing every thing about him.
"So he preferred dressing up formally, even
though his office dress code is denim friendly.
And his fingers were like that of an artist.
He carried his lunch from home only
occasionally.He does look better in
those formals then any thing else.
Ahan ... so that's what his name is.
I too love that book he is reading.".
She had resigned to the fact that this was her biggest crush
ever and her first real life one. She had started to wonder is he
has even seen her gape at him. She like to believe that he has,
since like her, he to would have been trying to look but not
make it obvious. The on summer morning when the sun was
beginning to burn from early morning itself. her bus stopped,
he looked at her and raised a hand and smiled. She smiled
back,almost a few seconds later she realized that she was
actually grinning, and as the bus started to move again , she
remembered to wave back .
Oh that day was something else, she worked , despite being
all rosy eyed, better then ever. and she just could not sleep
that night. It was a Wednesday next day , she looked out the
window as the bus moved on. She was scared she might be
ready to leap out the window if she saw him smile at her
like yesterday .But he wasn't there. nor was he there the
next two days. He wasn't there the next week or the week
after. She never saw him again. She lost, what could have
been hers, forever.

He had been seeing her sitting in her bus for a more than
three months now. Her ordinary beauty was extremely
attractive to him . He wondered if she ever noticed him.
As discreetly as possible , he looked at her. For long,
his favorite part of the day had been standing there,
waiting for the bus, her bus to come by. And he sure hoped
for bigger things for the two of them, but how? Then one
Monday he tried to actually do something to break the ice,
but he was too nervous and dumbstruck to actually turn his
head and look at her, he knew she was there but he was too
scared. He prepared himself all day and then finally on Tuesday
he waved to her and smiled, His smile and wave were instantly
acknowledged and warmly returned, and something told him it
was just a start of better thing to come.That day in the office he
knew he wanted to be with her. The same day he was one of
the few hundred employees fired by his company, as a reactive
step to the prevailing recession.

The good , the bad and the reality

What do bad people do..
They harm others at every opportunity they get..

And what do good people do ..
The convince others that they are not going to harm them. .
and when the other people are reassured,thats when they harm them

What would you say . .

What would you say .. tell me .. really ..

You have just finished working , by going out of your way to
help out some one,who never really asked for it, but then
both you and him knew he couldn't make it through without
your help.. Now that its done, he comes and tells you, " its good
that you were there to help out, but i would have managed on
my own as well,thanks none the less."
What would you say ..

You are lying in bed after passionate love making with a girl
you barely know,It was meaning less both for her and for you,
yet you feel complete in the situation. As she laid there with
her head on your shoulder, holding you tight as if trying to
make sure you are actually there with her, she asks you,
"This is so beautiful ,despite the complete lack of meaning to it,
but you know i am an escort by profession , What would you do
if i got a call right now and have to leave.."
What would you say ...

Your loved ones call you often, and you like to hear from them
frequently.But minutes into the conversation , you start missing
them more then you ever do when they are not around , or when
you are not talking to them. You stiffen up, because you don't
want to worry them by telling them how lonely you are,
but the more you talk the worse it would get. You act agitatedly,
are curt and quite, when some one says .."its such an effort for
you to even talk to us, looks like you don't miss us".
What would you say . .

You have been gone for a while, and all this while both you and
your beloved have cherished the thought of a sweet reunion.
She has been counting days, several times a day.And you have
been dragging along one day at a time ,only for the day you would
be back. There is so much the two of you had planned to do once
you are back, and so much that you wish to do for her. But its been a
while that you talked about all this, and the closer it gets the slower
it seems to be going. And then she says " I am not really all that high
spirited about you coming back now.. I guess i am getting used to you
being away".
What would you say. ..

Its cold , well actually it is cold out there.You are walking through
the streets,facing the chill and the wind. You cant feel your face
and your limbs are turning numb. The thoughts of a warm house
drive you to walk through. Its cold. The dollar is falling and the jobs
aren't secured. You stood in front of that shiny thing you have wanted
for ever but ultimately denied it to yourself, since it was an avoidable
expense. You need those pennies.As you continue to walk through the
spine freezing cold, you hear a man of the street say to you..
" its good you have a home to go to on this cold night, i am gonna have
to stay out. Would you have some change for coffee my good sir. . "
What would you say. .