I feel, therefore I am...

Wednesday, November 28, 2007

yours surprisingly....

A pink envelope was waiting for her on her desk. And she had no idea that it was waiting to make her happy. The first thing she noticed was the carefully drawn handwriting, mistakes carefully erased with a scale straight lines, sentences from the text book with Japanese words here and there and most importantly an interesting purple ink (kept thinking about how smoothly the ink must have glided on the paper and felt greedy at once. Little did she know that the person sitting up there happened to say “tathastu” at that very moment!!!?)
But she could not read the Chinese characters dancing in front of her eyes. So she showed it to someone she trusted. The seismic fits of laughter continued for a while and she kept smiling stupidly, wondering if she could think of a better way to react. She was asked “Can you smell the letter?” Oh! She thought letters are just to be read...she smelt curiosity, attraction, anxiety…and of course a floral perfume… the seemingly “I-am-curious about India” letter actually meant “I-am-curious-about you” she always had a doubt whether she will ever be interesting…whether she will ever be able to arouse curiosity in people…but unknown to herself she did…
Now the chance meetings in the corridor have become interesting, every day is no longer everyday as she waits if there is still more surprises waiting for her…!!!

Wednesday, September 05, 2007

The first class and all my worst horrors have come true…on the very first day, Iwata sensei had asked me “are they not childish?” I had very proudly said “no!” as if I have 100s of teen age kids that I manage like puppets each day. And now I know what experience is as against feeling. The ni-nenseis have taught me this.
Though I have some gems in the class like…the lotus temple that looks like opera house became the “otera house” I
The worst is that I ended up speaking more of Japanese than English.
Good or bad I do not know…
But setbacks are better at the beginning than at the end.How to be friends...and that is the question!!!

Thursday, May 03, 2007

while chatting yin said "actually we are like snails..."
at first i could not make head or tail out of this...but yess it does make sense...
we are like snails...
who suck the tears and the pain and the baggage up inside our tiny shells...
and then when we are relaxed and slithering around...
we leave behind a glittery wake...
some people also call it poems/blogs/stories...
but ultimately it is mucus...sticky, slithery slime...
better gotten rid of than kept in...

Friday, April 20, 2007

fairy tale...

All the characters and incidents in this story are factual. Any resemblance to fictitious characters is a mere coincidence…

Mr. Aloof: You know him already. However, for this story, my dear readers, you should imagine an All-Edges-Smoothed version of Mr. Aloof (‘All’ includes hair, beard and heart). He is wearing a mildly seductive perfume; to be precise, it’s AXE, but not as destructive as the name suggests. Otherwise he may behave as if he has been on a staple cactus diet, but today he is in his chummiest, plumiest self.

Ms. Melodrama: You know her too. A perfect bitter chocolate; it melts too fast and is absolutely essential to neutralize the cloying sweetness. Just like bitter chocolate needs constant refrigeration, bitter-chocolaty temperaments require coldness that some young men have in plenty. To give some angelic touches to her personality, Ms. Melodrama has wrapped herself in yards of white clothing.

Cellular phone: An electronic extension of Mr. Aloof. Whenever he tries to attain heights of purgation or practices novel ways of burning fat, it acts like a parachute to bring him safely back to solid ground.

A few hours before our Knight-on-Unicorn actually arrived; Ms. Melodrama could not catch more than 25 winks an hour because though her mortal eyes were closed, the third imaginative eye was still open. Some real hot thoughts which crossed her mind during that hour made sure that she felt warm on that January afternoon.

And there he was…her heart performed striking experiments in percussion. He plonked himself on the sofa with his fingers laced together and placed comfortably on his belly, thus covering the newly acquired circumference. During any conversations between Ms. Melodrama and Mr. Aloof in full possession of their faculties, fights popped up naturally. But today all pop ups were blocked.

He began with a business like hug. (A business like hug is based on the principle of minimal, platonic contact between humans.) Then they sat shoulder to shoulder on the sofa with an eye each on the door as if the door could have opened any moment with just a “khulja sim sim” She was sitting perfectly nestled up against his strong arms, her head resting at a vantage point from where she could indulge in his voice ringing close to her ears and his breath tickling her cheeks and his heart going pit-a-pat. Mr. Aloof’s system has an in-built weighing scale. So he cannot help weighing anything that his hands fall upon. Naturally, when he lifted her off the floor, it was due to this obsessive compulsive desire to weigh her. I could not hear the lovey-dovey cooing on this tender occasion. Firstly because it was subsonic and secondly, Venus, Aphrodite, Jove, Eros and Cupid, had made a picnic spot of the place and were gossiping too loudly while hovering right over the duo.

But gods (especially the libido god) are not pleased without lip service. The very glance Mr. Aloof cast at her had a kiss in it and his puckered lips told her something more than what puckered lips usually tell. (She has not yet revealed that “how to read puckered lips like a book” wisdom to me!) So first their hands and then they themselves were tangled in a WWF hug with a 78 kg teddy bear parked right on her chest and his podgy hand caressing and exploring the mortal underbelly of her angelic façade. At this point, I hope, the passion that steamed up my eyes did the same to the glass panes of the open window. I wiped my eyes and tried hard to see. I could see nothing except the divine backsides of Cupid, Eros, Aphrodite, Jove and Venus jostling each other for a better view. But the smooching sounds and a sudden rise in temperature was enough to know that they had finally buried their differences in a deep kiss.

Thursday, April 12, 2007

mocking a mawkish blog...

I just read pageful of poems: some romantic, some pseudo romantic some attempted romantic. And I felt the way one feels after reading medical encyclopedia, a book that describes diseases as dispassionately as one would describe “101 reasons for insomnia among the Martians.” Nevertheless, the objectivity fails to convince me and I keep feeling a swollen gall bladder or an irritation in the spleen (an organ, like the GOD Almighty Himself, is much heard/scared of than seen!). Even now, I suffer with every line. I have feelings that cannot be described without the help of geeky Greek suffixes and prefixes like hyper-, -thymia, -pathy etc. Now, after this nav-ras cocktail, I desperately need a dose of the tenth ras- the non-sense.

come happy fool whimsical cool
come dreaming dancing fancy free,
come mad musician glad glusician
beating your drum with glee.
Come o come where mad songs are sung
without any meaning or tune,
Come to the place where without a trace
your mind floats off like a loon.
Come scatterbrain up tidy lane
wake, shake and rattle’n roll,
Come lawless creatures with willful features
each unbound and clueless soul.
Nonsensical ways topsy-turvey gaze
stay delirious all the time,
So come you travelers to the world of babblers
and the beat of impossible rhyme.

-Sukumar Ray (Abol-Tabol)

Thursday, February 08, 2007

no matter, if he doesn't know...

Does he know
that even now I remember him,
want him?
that even now
I warm my body at midnight
in the fire of his memories?

if he doesn't know,
what does it matter?
This is my happiness:
that I love him
whether he loves me or not.

Wednesday, February 07, 2007

The Gift

Do you know anyone who thinks of asking you “should I gift you something that is already bought for you?” But this guy did. And then quickly realizing the awkwardness of the situation, felt guilty of having asked something so stupid! I could see every effort to be polite and stumbling and mumbling while being so…but I was equally clueless of what should be my own reaction…a smile or a straight face? I wish I had masks that hid my delight…After much (tickling) dilemma; I did come to a pleasant (and convenient) decision of accepting the gift. And the photogenic smile thereafter lessened my guilt a bit.

As usual he came in late the next day and gave me an “I-have-got-it-today” smile. I do remember to have felt greedy and selfish and stupid once again because my eyes were already set on his bag.

Yes! There it was! A rough jute folder…light pink with delicately embroidered blue flowers…it was taking a sneak preview of its prospective possessor and her ways….
“I could not wrap it in a paper.”
“It is okay. But it is pretty without it.”
“Actually I thought this would be a perfect gift for you because you carry so many papers and….” (A little hesitation but I was curious to know…) “and you keep (polite word for dump) them in your bag and then cannot find them…”
Sometimes innocence comes in the guise of insult.

Nevertheless, it does move me to be remembered, understood and be given a good thought.
Mr. Innocent, that is your true gift to me and I know true gifts can never be gift wrapped.