UNTITLED

The day had dawned. It was not to the romantic twitching and chirruping of the little birds that I woke up. It was the announcement of a received text message on my cellular phone that I woke up to. That’s the tip of the ice berg of the modern romanticisms. Anyway, that’s beside the point. The text message read the following,” MY TODAY: ARIES: you need to be loved, cuddled, and cosseted, so look for reassuring companions.”
Ha! I tried to laugh it off. But somehow it clung on to my mind and made me sympathise with myself. I somehow was being forced to give in to those words. I tried to shake it off by recollecting ‘the important’ things for the day, but to no avail. I would unreasonably end up contemplating about those lines, no matter what I tried. So is the way of the mystery called mind. The more you try to throw things out of it, the more they get rooted in to it.
In that thought I took a bath and dressed up for college. The semester had just begun. Clean shirts ironed to a stiff crease and a variety of pants to choose from. My taste for clothes has never been even far from great. So I randomly picked a pair and got into them. The beginnings always find your wallet thick and fat letting you to be luxurious to an extent. Despite my habit of not taking breakfast I thought I will have some tea and probably something light to munch in the hope of being a little active (read as not falling in to a slumber) in class.
So I set out to the canteen in that new pair of clothing and a new bag carrying my old self. At the counter sat the familiar person of Maari anna. I greeted him. Then I had a glance at the menu board. It is become a ritual of some sort. Three years training in the same place makes you know what is there and you also know all that you are going to have is a cup of tea and two ‘vadas’ and probably a little sauce. But habits are hard to change, aren’t they? And so I got my food billed and handed it over to ‘Selva anna’. I collected my stuff and looked around to find some familiar company. Hmmm.. A few familiar ones, but no good company. So I chose to occupy an empty table.
I placed my plate of snacks on the table and made myself comfortable on a chair. My favourite obsession during meals is to watch the ways of others, how they lift the food to their mouths, the way they place it inside, and their style of chewing it, their ways of approving its quality either by holding a blank face or by hinting a smile. It is more fun to watch the expressions of disapproval and that is much more common an observation. The large number of students using the mess and the canteen assure a wide variety of it too.
And in that fun filled refuelling time, my glances fell up on many recognisable faces. I laughed within making judgements of each one of them. As I enjoyed this light moment I noticed two little figures, two young boys, probably ten or twelve years old. I concluded, so they got new boys to work here; child labour. What is the use of being a great institution if you cannot give a little heart to such things, so I cursed. When I realised that my food as well as tea was over I got up, cleared my table to go to class. As I put away the plate in the dumping box one of the two kids smiled at me. I returned it with the wink of both my eyes and a smile, the characteristics of which only he can tell.
And then I went to sleep, I mean to class. The same old bloody lecturers and their monotonous speeches of wisdom, I wished them a good night and went in to my world of fancies. The only break was the lunch. Then by around quarter to four in the evening, I woke to give an ear for the bell. Those fifteen long minutes came to an end and we all rose to tell him that it was time. Then we left before he cleaned the board.
Next destination was the canteen. My men and I marched to the ‘lounge’ to let the steam off. There we claimed our corner and started off with the usual stupidity. And again I could see those two little guys, chatting at the juice shop. They seemed bubbly and enthusiastic and naughty too. Well, I for some reason wanted to talk to them. So I set out to strike a conversation with them.
I got a lime juice billed that is the cheapest thing in the place, and went over to them. I smiled at him again. They acknowledged it by a mutual giggle. I doubt if my smile is all that bad. So in my efforts to start a conversation I asked the smaller of the two guys, what his name was. ‘Kaalimuthu’, came the reply. I thought,” yes one of the village boys of Ettimadai”, disapproving the Kaali part of his name considering his figure. Then I turned my attention to the other guy. Even before I asked him, he uttered something that sounded like Bravo. I didn’t have enough faith in my ears. I asked him again and he made the same noise. Ok, I thought lets analyse the sound and derive something Indian out of it. That effort required of me to confirm if his name was Bavu. He repeated the sound and then it clicked-Babu. My eagerness to speak grew when I realised that he and I share the same name.
By then the poor Kaali was so bored with me or probably that he didn’t like me, he went away to get something done behind the juice bar. Through our conversation I found out that my new found friend was from Orissa and that he came to our college about a month back. It was a very interesting chat. I broke my already broken Hindi and gave the words that I spoke a slight Bengali accent using my knowledge that since West Bengal and Orissa share a border, their languages too must have something common between them. And so started the conversation which in essence is the ideal conversation of two deaf somebodies.
As we disclosed about each other in alien tongues, I interpreted that the little guy lived alone here. His parents were in Orissa. And that churned my heart a lot. I could see not a boy living away from his parents but an orphan in all its practicalities. Not that there aren’t other boys living away from home at his age but that the child also had to live a man’s life when he should have been nurtured in the warmth of his mother and the reassuring strength of his father. My thoughts welled up tears in my eyes and I barely held them back.
He saw my phone and asked me to show. I pulled it out of my pocket and gave it to him. He asked a few things that I couldn’t figure out. Then from his pocket he took out a small telephone directory- a few pieces of single side used white sheets cut and stapled in to a bunch. It had a few names drawn out. I noticed that he did not even have a rupee in that purse. Out of my dirty curiosity I enquired about it. He said that his salary was the three meals and a yearly ticket home. It pricked like nothing else before. He very shyly asked me if he can make a call. More than eagerly I asked him for the number. It was his father’s. I dialled it and gave it to him. He waited for some time and then put the phone in my ear. The voice said “destination not reachable.” We tried again a few times only to remain unsuccessful each time. I had no idea how to explain the technical trouble. He gave up when he understood it was no good.
He took out the pen from my pocket. Then he drew four letters on his directory. It read Babu. He asked for my number and as I said the digits one by one he very slowly and with lot of effort wrote it down. As soon as he finished, Venkitesh ettan called him. He smiled at me and said anna. He rushed to the canteen picking up the broom on the way. There was a message alert on phone. Strolling back to the hostel, I checked it and while closing glanced at the last message. It read,” MY TODAY: ARIES: you need to be loved, cuddled, and cosseted, so look for reassuring companions.”

THE FALLEN FLOWER

Hey! men of honour,
You hide the dark behind the cloak,
seek by the dark for pleasures darker.

Like to the flowers, you come to me,
sow in me seeds of hope.
Love me when i fragrant,
price me as I bloom.
The bees quench as I whither;
I wilt, I fall, I soil.

Then I am the dirt in the courtyard.
Sweep. Heaped in the used- less.

THE LONE WALKER

The eternal clock ticks on,
The lone walker lives on,
There where the sky kisses
The ground beneath his feet,
There dusk awaits him.

On the pavements that he walked,
Many a face kissed his eyes,
Now all reels in his mind,
Grey in his heart,
Life he walks on.

The night twinkles,
Amidst a million stars, shines the moon.
At first it was only a crescent,
From full faced lustre, it turned itself from him.

Now the sky is clear like his minds,
Destiny is what he finds,
Splendorous without the mistress is the night,
And the heavens making love with earth,
Still in sight,
Awaits he, for crescent of a little smile.

The eternal clock ticks on,
The lone walker lives on.
There where the sky kisses
The ground beneath his feet,
There dusk awaits him.

To My Lady

(Written for one particular friend who I hurt. I am sorry. I hope you will forgive.)


Ye lady of nine beauty,
In thy eyes glitter my heart.
The roses you admire,
I never could be.

The fragrance that sprouts life,
I am not.

Neither the green that dresses the petals
Like the darkness within the silver line.

In the gown of a friend,
I clowned the lover,
That I never was meant to be.

The mere man that I am,
Didn’t read the mockery.

And when the curtains fell on me,
I licked my wounds to see,
Trifle as a thorn I am.

Hard and dark as a thorn I am,
Dreadful and painful as a thorn I am,

Bleeds a heart for my sake,
Deeds are daggers in the heart.

Oh! What a thorn I am,
Oh! What a thorn I am.

Plead, I here,
Heed, will you?

When thy rosy cheek caress the blossom,
When its freshness brings spring to you,

May this crushed little thorn come along,
I promise not to hurt

A Visit To Heaven

well this one is something that i wrote long long time ago.. its a little stupid... but somehow i like it.. here it is anyways...

In the chariot of my lord,
I flew to heaven.
Moments spelled me in to blossoms,
In that sweet home of the lord.

He welcomed this mysery maison,
In to his marvelous mansion,
Utterly bewildered,blushing,
did stand this servant,
Unusually and humbly bent.

Neither did he summon nor spell burst,
but treated this guestly servant's thirst.
His face wore a tone of sweetness,
Gently, unconsidering my past reluctant meakness,
softly like air washed feather,
did bring those palms of love,
on the forehead of this dove.
Then quoted in motherly tone,
"My dear little child."

Then it was broad,
My mother is my lord!