Monday, July 17, 2006

Dreamers

Dreamers, we all are.
Aching to belong,
Aching to be understood.
Dreamers, we all are.
Lying on stone-cold tiled floors,
Listening to music in the darkness.
Dreamers, we all are.
Jolted back to reality when our silent tears,
They trickle down to the floor.
Dreamers, we all are.
Tiny little islands,
Floating adrift in an ocean of muse...
***
Thank you, Rahul, for showing me the colors that I had failed to see.
http://sanitysucks.blogspot.com/2006/07/if-i-turn-blind-tonight.html

Wednesday, July 05, 2006

The Show

Human flesh shines and looks beautiful, if given a little limelight.
She sashayed down the ramp, one hand resting on the hip while the other dangled free. Wolf whistles and hoots apart, there was a deafening applause that your ears had to get used to. She looked exquisite. I watched her as she transformed from the regular kid into someone I don’t know. Elegance personified. Her attire chose to cling onto her frame. Everything and everyone else on the stage, dimmed into unimportance, and gradually into non-existence, as she moved closer to the frenzied crowd. Then, her gait stopped. The audience went silent. She looked at the audience. Maintained confident eye contact. She curved her luscious lips and slowly batted her heavy eyelids. She smiled. The crowd went berserk.

Five years ago.
I was sitting under the frugal shade of an almost dying tree in the college lawn. Someone called my name and I looked up. I couldn’t see the face since the sun was right behind her, making a shadow across her frame. Her hair were school-girlish-ly unkempt. She seemed like she had a long, long day. “Chasing sponsors!” she declared when I asked her what she was doing. Her closest friend and my then not-so-close classmate caught up with her and whisked her away. For a moment, they looked like sisters. Countless Union heated meetings, meaningless estrangements, unplanned bumping into each other, and later working together… Life has its way of getting back the same people into your lives over and over again. Only, the roles differ in every scene.

No wonder Shakespeare said, “Life’s a stage”. Now, all we need to do is sit back and enjoy the show, I guess. Her show was over, the hooting died down. I got up to meet her backstage, while the applause continued to rain down.

Tuesday, July 04, 2006

McLeodganj Mornings

The deep guttural blow horns woke me up. Sounded like one of those exotic instruments Yanni uses for his outlandish concerts. I realized that there were goosebumps on my hands. COLD. Incessant rains in the night and the lack of a think mattress ensured that I had blue lips. Ok, bluish-pink, to be fair. The bass of the blow horns grew somewhere at the base of my stomach. I tossed about in bed trying to conquer my wakening senses. Found a sibling missing from the bed, while the other slept peacefully. All worries subside when I spot him in the balcony watching the settlement wake up. I joined him in the balcony gathering my mess of a hair in a scrawny clip. Together we watched Germans smiling over their German breakfasts, while Israelis conversed rapidly over theirs. A Thapa served his customers briskly and efficiently. Chinese lanterns asleep after a whole night’s duty. The rain stopped. Skies cleared. A nice day to trek to the Falls.

We would walk to the hot water springs and the falls... We would go to the monastery and the church... We will go to the Dal Lake... We will have piping hot momos... We will wear those colorful costumes and buy prayer wheels and printed mantras...