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People write diaries. Their diaries describe their personality. I write on my blog. It describes me way too well. :D
My writing takes me places my mind never wanted to go
Everyone writes. From the ink of their thoughts, by the pen of their mind on the page of their face. Everyone writes.I love to write. It is a passion; a compulsion; something that gives me an avenue to express myself. I write when I am happy; when I am sad or when an issue touches my heart. I find inspiration to write in every aspect of life.
This blog is dedicated to anything and everything that fills my thoughts and occupies cranial space

Saturday, February 21, 2015

Some Other Time

They never cease to amaze me, I said. 
My wife stared at me with her big round eyes, waiting for me to finish this sentence that had come out of nowhere. 
The couple on black Enfield, I said.
 Her inquisitive eyes still stared at me, looking for a story. 
 He was 57, I said, and she was 54. She asked me who they were, with amazement! Remember, last year, I went to Leh for that bike trip? She nodded her head into a yes. I met them there, I said. They were the last addition to our group and were a little late. I, as always, was little annoyed at that couple for being late. After a while, I saw a black Enfield coming towards us. Relieved about the fact that they have come, I behaved rather arrogantly.
 "Let’s go now, we are already behind schedule."
 "I am sorry for coming late son", the voice came and with little interest when I turned back I saw the couple in their 50s. 
 Suddenly all my anger at them for being late went away and I felt as if someone had stolen my voice! We started from Delhi on our bikes and I, being the youngest of all, was in the front, a moment of pride it was indeed. We stopped for rest at a dhaba, and you know my immense love for dhabas. 

 I just gobbled down my food as if I hadn't had anything for months. Feeling content, I became aware of my surroundings and saw that old couple sitting together, the gentleman holding the hand of the lazy and whispering something in her ear and oblivious to the world around her, she gave a loud laugh every time. 
They looked beautiful, as if the Gods themselves had brought them together. Gradually, we headed towards our destination and since I was a lone driver, they often used to come and sit by me, trying to make a little conversation.
 I had started to like that couple; the lady looked radiant as she was happy, like really happy! The journey was beautiful and finally we reached Leh and and I saw them sitting by the campfire holding hands in hands listening to everyone's story! 
Once everyone except them was done, the group members turned their heads to them wondering whether they'd say something or not. I won’t lie, I myself was very curious to know about that couple!
 "I was in the army,” he said, “and this beautiful lady next to me is my wife." As he spoke, one could notice the blush of the lady's cheeks, making her look like a beautiful young bride.
 "I have known her for all my life", he added, "since the good old school days". "She loves to travel, and the only reason I am here is her; I owe it to her."
 He said that all his life when he was out on tours, it was she who never gave up on him, took care of kids and listened to him everyday. An irreplaceable confidante she had become. 
"It’s been over 30 years that we have been married", he said and right there, I could sense a proud and a happy man. That day, I was sure of the future I wanted, future I craved for.
 As they ended their story, everybody retired to their tents; I saw them still sitting near the fire, holding hands! That night changed me Priya
, I said! "I hope we be exactly the same!"
 She let loose a tear from her eye and said nothing. The nurse came in and asked her to leave for it was my time for chemotherapy. She gave me a smile, kissed my forehead and left! 
Some other time, in some other life, we both thought in our minds!

Thursday, December 25, 2014

Namesake



“But Please help me. Where would I go?? Please Help Me”
“You can go to hell, for all I care.”
I remember, our last conversation, went something...exactly like this.
You were crying, begging me for help but I didn’t. In fact, I asked you to go to hell.
And now that when you are gone, I can’t stop but think why.
Why did all this happen? We were best friends forever, remember?
Growing up together, playing in those by-lanes of our society, enjoying every moment of our blessed childhood, when did we form this special bond? I fail to recall.
We went to same school, scored almost equal marks, cracked the same exam for our dream college and entered our dream world together.
And then, something happened, she happened.                    
She came like a new wave of fun in our already fun-filled lives, giving us one more ways to look at things, providing us the weekend getaways, making her way into hearts, both yours and mine.
I started to fall in love with her and I thought you would get a hint of that but you didn’t. I even started to wait for you to tease me by her name but you didn’t. And by the time I realized why, you both were busy making your own little world, dreaming of your future together, and jokingly saying that I would be the Godparent to your children.
Do you have a slightest of hint how much that pinched my already broken heart?
We were always equal, weren’t we?
Same social status, same academic performances, same zest, and same attitude.
Why did she choose you then?
Why not me?
I too deserved her if you did.
But stupid cupid struck the wrong arrow in her blind heart.
I broke off all ties with you two the day you proposed her on the last day of college, although I did cover it up with my “I am going to miss you when I move to the city for job” excuse.
And you bought it? Such a fool you were.
Once out of your love-struck environment, I did find a job and gave it all that I had.
What else did I have to do?
My love was now known to the world as your wife, and there was no question of marrying someone else.
I became what I am today, super rich, super successful and super single.
You came to my home that dark night, crying, bleeding, limping, bleeding, begging, bleeding.
You had an accident just outside my bungalow and needed help.
I of course didn’t let you know that it was me, and saw you leaving while I stood in dark in the balcony.
I called the police and informed them.
They must have reached your car, and that is how they called me back to say that you were gone.
And her too.
Dead, both of you.
And here I am today, arranging the funerals, hugging your relatives, looking over the food arrangements, holding in one hand your will and in the other, your son.
My Godchild.
My