Box of chocolates

My friend...

2012-01-07T18:39:00.000-08:00

Chilly wind.
Curtains of rain.
A figure walks along. Lost in reverie.

....

I ask you friend.
Why are you alone, even as so many sorround you.

Your heart glows.
Light spreads from it.
Bringing peace to those around.
Yet why?
I ask, are your eyes so sad.

I see the desire you have.
To find that unknown joy. The evasive peace.
Yet you close yourself to it.

I ask you friend.
Why are your eyes closed,open them and look around

The answers you seek.
The freedom you want.
to express yourself.
to unravel your wishes, thoughts, choices
are all right there, my friend.
Within you.

So I ask you friend.
To bring out that courage.
So you can feel the happiness.
Just like the way you bring it to others.

I ask you my friend,
to look beyond the rain and the darkness.
To see the light and seek your true self.
Let it envelop you and guide you.

Let not others define you. Dictate you.

My friend.
Listen to yourself. Seek your true self.
And bring that beautiful smile you have to your eyes.

Lapse of Time

2011-06-08T17:41:00.001-07:00

A feeling unreal.

An image completely familiar. Yet so unknown.

Time taking a step back. A break. Observing all.

Yet reserving none.

Not judging. Just reflecting. Sinking. Sinking. Sinking.

What is it I see?

I question.

But to who?

To what I see--- or to what this moment shows me?

Is it a sign? A signal? A message? A call?

Maybe a helping hand...lifting me...as I slowly sink into the depths of superficiality.

Unsettling. But not startling. Strange. But not surprising.

Medley of thoughts. All evaporated. In that frame. At that point.

Just the moment remaining. Hanging in the air.

As quickly as it comes, the moment passes.

Yet the feeling lies deep inside.

Breaking something, far inside.

Releasing something from something deeper still.

Stillness. Silence. Stillness.

Interpreter of dreams

2010-11-07T10:06:00.000-08:00

Dark dreams, dreams of love.
Dreams of hope, and haunting dreams.
She read them all...
After a night of dreams, everyone went to her,
just as she knew they would.
They wanted answers. And she had them.
For she was the interpreter of dreams.

She listened to them as they talked to her dreams.
And she read their faces, she laughed, she cried,
she gasped and felt the dreams like they were her own.
And so like that they got their answers and they passed the dream to her.

They needed her...but the truth was she needed them more.
She asked for no money, nor the gold
All she needed was for the dreams to be told.
For she was the interpreter of dreams.

You see, she had no dreams of her own. But she always had theirs.
Their dreams would hold her as she worked.
They would feed her, cajole her.
And when the darkness of the night would befall her,
they would hold her close so could sleep without loneliness.

But then something happened. Unexpectedly?
She felt something new. A new desire. Hope.
And slowly the people stopped coming. And so did their dreams.
The nights became unbearably lonely.
The people dreamed theirs dreams, but never came to her.
Had she lost the ability to feel theirs dreams.
Was she no longer the interpreter of dreams?

As she lay one night, no ones dreams to coax her to sleep.
For the first time in her life...she dreamed a dream of her very own.
And she became the interpreter of her own dreams.

Time

2010-07-18T19:31:00.000-07:00

How long had I sat there doing nothing?
I am not sure.
Well, it was long enough.
I was bored. I was absolutely bored. Out of my wits bored.
How could I have become bored of something I liked doing so much?
But I suppose if you do it long enough, you eventually get bored.

As if suddenly, I realized how much time had passed by.
No, not the couple of hours. A much longer time.
An eon.
And here I was counting the time. Backwards.
It was no longer about the boredom, was it?
Or about what was to be done(wish it was).
It was all about what had and hadn't happened.

More importantly, what hadn't happened.
Because what hadn't happened was what caused what had happened to happen.
Pathetic.

Dance Dance Dance

2010-06-13T14:01:00.000-07:00

Dewy leaves. Whistling wind.
Billowy gowns, with handsome bows.
Bright smiles. Sparkly eyes.

Chitter chatter.
Black carriage.

Bright cheeks.
Wisps of hair flying everywhere.
Greetings. Gossiping.

Piano notes on the floor.
Sing Song. Sing Song.

A look here a look there.
A smile sly. A smile shy.
Yes with excitement! No with politeness?

Hands in hands. Step by step.
Dance dance dance. AND. Dance dance dance.

Deafening Solitude

2010-01-23T19:06:00.000-08:00

The ditch when seen seemed small enough.
Yet that is when you aren't being asked to jump down it.
Or being forced to. Or being pushed into.
I was wearing my white pants that day. A constrast to the dirt.
The bus dropped me off at the bus stop, along with others.
But instead of going home I was being asked to jump down that ditch. Being forced to.
I didn't want to. I really didn't. The ditch seemed never ending.
The bottom, dark, full of dirt, stones.
But before I knew it, there I was standing at the edge. Staring down.
My stomach turned. Nausea getting a hold of me.
Was it the prospect of the jump that really made me nervous?
I held on. I wasn't going to jump. I was not going to let them make me jump.
A step back. A yelp, a taunting word.
And then a push.
I was flying. And then falling.
The smell of dirt filling my nostrils. Its taste on my mouth. The stones piercing.
Yet the laughter was worse. Far worse. And then salty tears.
A few moments. In that turmoil. In that awkward position.
Eventually the laughter ceased. Everyone had left.
A deafening silence.
A new calamity. How to get back up.
How to get back up.
How?

The one behind the smile

2009-10-12T17:28:00.000-07:00

A smile without the wrinkles near the eyes,
that's always a given, regardless of what.
A real smile...rarely seen, like rain on a parched land.
So good at masking the real pain, hiding everything from everyone, all the time.
So few times can the real feeling be seen, fluttering over the face, momentarily.
Where does the strength come from? The persistence? The resiliency?
I don't know.
Hope? Or the strong will to never do any wrong to another.

Blame. The blame on oneself, for others mistakes.
Doing no wrong, yet feeling as if she has.
Doubting the natural feelings as being unnatural.

The smallest of joy make her truly happy.
Yet these small joys rarely seem to come her way.

But nonetheless I have hope for her.
The tunnel is long.
But I see the light at the end of the tunnel.

And I hope my eyes aren't playing tricks on me.

__________________________________________________________________

For you...

You know who "you" are.

"Tum itna kyu muskura rahe ho...kya ghum hain jisko chupa rahe ho"

Thinking...

2009-09-22T18:12:00.001-07:00

Here I am thinking about it again. Its always triggered by something...maybe recalling an old memory, or reading a random conversation. Here I am thinking about something entirely different but it somehow leads to me thinking about this. Its annoying really. Not just the whole thinking part but also the fact that I am thinking about it. So why am I annoyed...because I find you fickle. But that's absurd...I mean how can I say that, when I barely understand you. Just because I knew of your dark memories long before you told me doesn't mean I know you. Hell...I never understood you...nor will I ever. And what else is annoying....ooh the fact that....you never tell me anything...I mean you do, but not what's important. You will tell me something significant...and then the next time you will act like you never told me that. One day its one thing, another day its something else. And what do you really think of me. Or should I say....what am I to you? Again one day you'll act in a certain way towards me...and the next day a complete flip. So what is the truth. What you said yesterday? What you said today? Or what your going to say tomorrow? Or were you speaking the truth all three days? Even when they were paradoxical?...why I am thinking of all this? Really what am I to you...most probably...a bystander....a friend who is a stranger....but really why such secretiveness, why such fickleness....am I judging you? I should stop....because I have no right to judge you...because I really don't know you...not that I should judge even if I knew you, but for that matter there won't be any judging then because hell then I would just know you. Ok....I should stop this. Now. The thinking. As I have always when I start thinking about this....

Changes

2009-03-25T06:32:00.000-07:00

The names on the list bought tears to my eyes.
Not just the names themselves.
What they indicated. What they meant.
But it wasnt just that list and those names. It was all the news going around.
The changes bought on to others lives.
Not mine but others.
Even though I am not taking those steps. Its not I who is moving on. It still feels very real.
It feels as if it will happen to me too, all of a sudden.
And that is scary.
Ofcourse I am waiting for some changes. But other changes I feel I am not ready for.
I will miss all these people. Those who are taking the next step. Those entering a new phase in their lives.
Good luck to you all. May all your dreams become real. And all your expectations stay true.

"Everything changes but change itself. Everything flows and nothing remains the same..."

The mysterious follower

2009-03-04T19:28:00.000-08:00

A warm night with a velvety sky.
The watch read, 10:35.
Tiredness swept me down as I lugged along,
across the grass to my car.
And suddenly I heard something, a footstep?
I could feel someone right behind me.
Fear made me shiver, and my heart hammered
maybe a thief or a murderer?
My back stiffened with fear, and my legs felt numb.
Everything turned hazy...unclear
Only the smell of chowmein stayed prominent
I thought of turning and looking at my intruder
but fear kept me walking straight.
As I neared my car the intruder came closer.
Did he sense that my escape was near?
Atlast I reached my carolla and in my hurry
dropped the packet of my chowmein.
I got into the car, locked my doors and felt safe.
My fear left giving way to my curiosity.
I looked out to see my follower,
only to find a poor little dog
eating what
was to
appease
my grumbling
stomach.

Labels

2009-03-01T16:33:00.000-08:00

How easily we give labels.
She is nice. She is mean.
He is good. He is bad.
She is an animal lover. He is a soccer fanatic.
And we change them so quickly too.
She is nice one today. And mean the next day.
And we all give different labels.
One says she is nice, the other says she is mean.
But what defines being nice. Being mean. Being a soccer fanatic.
And really, is that all a person is. Nice. Mean. Bad. Good. This. Or that.
How easily we throw such adjectives out without considering what they really mean.
And whether they constitute the entire person.
What they are like in the many instances of their life. What they do every moment.
What all they have experienced, or are experiencing. What conditions they live in.
How they react. What they say. What they think. What they feel.
Really, is it enough to see the few instances of their life.
Is that enough, to really know them, understand them.
Is that enough, to label them.
And is that label enough to describe the whole person that they are?

Odonata...Disturbia...Thoughts

2009-02-25T06:27:00.000-08:00

Large eyes,(angled or rounded)

Seven segmented or four

Cordulidae? Gomphidae?

Why such ego? Idiocrasy? cruelty?

I dont know.

Or is it just me? Looking at it in some strange way.

"No more gas, in the rig, can't even get it started. Nothing heard, nothing said, can't even speak about it. On my life, on my head, don't wanna think about it. Feels like I'm going insane, yeah..."

Confusion. Overthinking. Overanalyzing.

Lateral spines( on segment seven or eight)

Lestidea? Colopterygidae?

Fear

2009-01-13T05:55:00.000-08:00

Randomly at times I am gripped by fear. It comes suddenly. Or maybe its always there in the background, ready to spring when time comes. I keep this kind of fear to myself. I cant tell my family, they face the same fear too. We all know of it. It moves around in the shadows, but we all act as if it doesn't exist. Its unspoken and understood.
If I hear a freaky story somewhere, something involving ghosts or maybe murderers on the loose, I have to tell someone. I tell my whole family, maybe while we are eating dinner or something. They either laugh or ask me why I had to tell them such a story, I tell because in some ways it makes me less afraid. Or so I feel.
People tell me I am strange. I am afraid of the dark, fear ghosts and the supernatural. Hate watching scary movies, don't sleep for many nights when I watch them. They ask how is it that you handle the bigger fears so much better. I think everyone is capable of that. When the situation comes everyone hides those fears to do what is to be done. I have seen so many do that. Especially those who are afraid of the dark ;)
When I was a freshman in high school, in our bio class we watched a movie(based on true events) about a man who came through windows, kidnapped girls while they were sleeping, and later raped and killed them. For weeks after that I always kept all my windows closed, I was very afraid of the dark, and went through many sleepless nights. What I didn't realize was many of the girls in my class were going through the same fear. Months later when we had forgotten about the movie I came to learn of that. Maybe if I had found out before, I would have shared the fear with them, and maybe felt a little less afraid.
Everyone lives in fear. Fear of something. Rich man lives in fear that he wont make as much profit as he made the year before. Student afraid he wont pass his class. Politician is afraid of not being reelected. What makes a man hurt another? Fear. Fear is the root of everything. As Vivekananda said,"Fear is death, fear is sin, fear is hell, fear is unrighteousness. All the negative thoughts and ideas that are in this world have proceeded from this evil spirit of fear" So what do we do, do we stop fearing everything?
When someone hits you, what do you do. You either hit them back or you don't. Say you don't. Why don't you? Is it because you believe in peace, you truly believe in Mahatma Gandhi's words, "Eye for an eye makes the whole world blind", or is it because you are afraid. Should fear be the reason why your not hitting back. When someone is attacking your world, do you not fight back because your afraid. When people attack you, those you love---ultimately to create fear. Do you succumb to it, and not attack back because of it?

Darkness

2009-01-02T07:25:00.000-08:00

I found this poem while I was cleaning my room. I don't remember when I wrote it. Thought I'll put it here.
_______________________________________________________________________

Darkness.
When I was young it haunted me in the night.
It enveloped me, like a black velvety blanket.
But that darkness of the night doesn't haunt me anymore.
Its the darkness of the heart that does.

As I walk down the road, it sneers as it hides behind the building.
Its there as I walk past the drug dealers.
Its still there as suicide bombers crash, as soldiers die in the battles.
Its there as I walk past dead bodies, its face triumphant as if it has won.
But has it?

It still hasn't touched me.
It hasn't won.
Because however much hate there is in the world.
Love still lives and wins.

Krisna

2008-11-17T17:53:00.000-08:00

As I passed him, all seemed to stop for a few moments.

The boy with the kind smile,
I knew it was HIM.
The dark skinned child with the mysterious smile,
I knew it was HIM.
The dimpled cheek, the crooked smile,
I knew it was HIM.
The strange look in the eyes,
I knew it was HIM.
The confident stance,
I knew it was HIM.
The glance into my soul,
I knew it was HIM.
The look of one very wise, the eternal knowledge in his eyes--too strange for such a young child,
I knew it was HIM.

People think I am crazy, but deep in my heart I feel, the dark skinned child with the beautiful smile was definitely HIM.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Fear Not. What is not real, never was and never will be. What is real, always was and cannot be destroyed."
-Bhagavad Gita

Diamonds in the dark

2008-11-11T15:59:00.000-08:00

I was driving into the night because there was too much waiting, I did not want to wait there staring at the people walking or at the other people who were also waiting. I didn't want to feel like I was in the middle of everyone, everything, even when I really wasn't. And so I passed the bus stop without stopping, and drove off into a direction I had never gone to. I passed a lab, a couple of odd buildings, a few houses, but eventually there were no longer any houses or buildings, only trees and small lanes branching off. My thoughts turned to myself. I realized suddenly what a fool I had been. The grandest one. Others had fooled me, and I had fooled myself. I grinned in the darkness. It was almost laugh out loud funny. Almost. And what was this new character I had developed? I asked myself. I answered back: A mask. A mask? How pathetic. And scary. When I looked into the mirror, was it a stranger I saw? Or me with a mask? Or well, just me? Maybe it wasn't a mask. It was just what I have become, what I am becoming. A thought far more scarier. I don't know, I said to myself. You don't know. Myself told me. I said out load: I am a fool who is pathetic, malicious and confused. Then I did laugh out loud. My own laughter brought me out of my thoughts and I suddenly remembered, that I had to head back to the bus stop. So I entered into one of the side paths. This path turned out darker than the road I had turned from. Suddenly I felt a choking sense of defeat. In the process of taking a U-turn, I stopped. I asked myself. How had I let everything happen so? Or was it really I who had let it happen? I stayed so for a few moments thinking, until I sensed a moment in the trees lining the path. I turned the car towards the trees unknowingly, and there in the complete darkness I saw a pair of eyes. Shining. Fear gripped me. I froze. I stared at them, and the eyes stared back at me. I saw nothing but the eyes. What could they belong to? Moments passed. Suddenly the deer stepped forward. Its beauty startled me. And I felt relieved. Not only from fear but something else. The deer walked off into the woods, and I turned the car around and went back to the bus stop, no longer thinking about my self.

Reputo...Facio

2008-10-10T12:48:00.000-07:00

Maybe it had always been so, but I didn't know that. I had walked in the first time and discovered what I thought as chaos. Books strewn everywhere, note papers scattered about, chairs placed randomly. It wasn't a large room but the way everything was oriented, it seemed large enough to get lost in. To my joy I looked around to discover no one about. I settled at one the many tables, the particular one had Plato's "Apology" and "Leviathan" by Hobbes on it. I didn't look at them though, because I hadn't come here to read. I was here to think. Really think. By myself. Think. Think. Think. Thats all.
And so I thought. Kept on thinking. So many thoughts. That's until a man entered the room pulling me out of my caliginous thoughts. The man was old. White hair, wrinkly skin. He was very tall, almost gangly. But what really seemed to stand out were his eyes. Twinkly, bright, full of life. Without asking he pulled one of the chairs and sat down.
"Ooh so you have discovered the room."
I didn't say anything. Just stared.
"How do you like it?"
It was a question, that I needed to answer.
"Its chaotic"
"Well....how do you like it though?"
I thought about it. Did I like the room. It was too disoriented.
"I dont hate it nor love it. Its too disoriented for me"
"Well then, stop thinking so much and go make it the way you want"
I wasnt sure what he was talking about, so I just stared.
"Stop thinking soo much about your life or this room for that matter, act! Make it the way you want to. Stop thinking.Act.Right now.Go"
I stood up. His words almost like a an awakenning of some kind. I looked around the room. I put the chairs where they belong, I stacked the notepapers, put the books back on the shelf. And soon the room was less chaotic.
By the time I came back to the table, the man was gone.
Since that day I came to that chaotic room everyday. But I never saw him again. I looked for his in the hallways. In other rooms. But never saw him.
But I always remember the old man with the twinkly eyes. Who made me act more, think a bit less.

Shallow Friendship

2008-10-02T15:41:00.000-07:00

Hadn't they both expected something more from each other?
They had. For sure.
And expectations always seem to betray them.
And it has now once again.

There is a aloofness about them now.
So easy for it to be gone.
But they fail to see that. Or don't let their so called "dignity" see it.
Or maybe they do, and think the other doesn't.

They try to act normal with each other, but the awkwardness is apparent.
The old companionship is long gone.
Why so?
Because they fail to recognize to each other, that it has.

Maybe when they will.
Slowly the old familiarity will be back.
Maybe their friendship will emerge stronger?

Till then.
They will go on sharing a superficial bond.
And missing those old wonderful moments they had together.

The dark hollows

2008-09-23T20:18:00.000-07:00

Short crisp hair. Gangly. Hooked nose.
Three forgot. One would always remember.
Crooked smile.
Another changed.

Three forgot. Forgot?
Will never remember.

The lonely table. The suppressed grins.
The vast hallways, too narrow to hide.

The brown bag. The red circled calender.
The brown cupcake. The red nose.

The old friend now foe.
The high nose(with something smelly under it)

The deep ditch. The high jump.
The prickly feeling. The unpleasant words.

The shrill calls. The push in the back.
The narrow eyes. The "supposed" all knowing smile.

Whispered looks, the unanswerable questions.
The dark throat. Unpleasant comment heard.

The pitiful looks, the rushed tears.
The ganging up. The whispered conversations.

Unnoticed self. The purpose of class discussion.
A rumor? started.
Bringing everything down.

The so called "knowing" me.

The dark hollows of the brain. Not to be seen.
Not ones for which the light should be shown.

Blah.

2008-09-16T19:26:00.000-07:00

I had a dream about you.
You weren't really there. But you were.
It was dark and you were there like a bright light.
There was so much mystery around you, at least in the beginning.

And then slowly the dream drew in more colors,
I learned much about you, and you about me.

But in truth, did we really understand each other?
I think we did, but not fully.

And in the end, you killed me. In the dream that is.
After a happier you.
Just like that.

Though I didn't die.
I bled. But didn't die.

Weird that the dream came.
Why do I think its about you.
It may not be about you, but I think it is.

I think I am being harsh, saying its about you.
But thats how I feel. What can I do? Can I change what I feel?
I cant do anything.

Phase

2008-09-06T07:30:00.000-07:00

I went through a phase.

A phase in which many things happened at once.

A phase in which I cocooned myself yet the same time flew all around as a butterfly.

A phase in which I had some great times yet many moments of the worst.

During this time I felt things I never felt before. Feeling that I still, having a hard time understanding.

I learned many new things. About others, about life, my self.

I learned of some qualities of myself(or maybe I did know of them before but didnt truly acknowledge them), causes of some which gave me much remorse yet others that made me truly happy.

Through this all I have changed.

I dont know if it can be called a change, but I have realized that now I am letting myself get lost in some aspects of myself that I supressed for a while.

There are some people I need to apologize to, others I need to thank.

But I plan on during neither. Doing so would be absurd and irrelevant.

For the people I thought I knew, I think I know, and will get to know :)

The lies, the liars

2008-08-31T11:36:00.000-07:00

She loves to lie, that girl.
No, that would be a lie.

She cant stop herself from telling lies.
She starts lying and soon she is buried under their weight.
She carries these lies along with her everywhere.

What makes her do it?
She says they make her feel better.
Do they?
She says they make her feel different?
Do they?
She says they have become part of her.
Not lying she says is like lying to herself.
maybe.

Lately her lies have become transparent.Independent.
The lies no longer string together.
They have become easily recognizable.

Everyone always knew she lied.
But now they know that everyone knows that she lies.

Now they see her and say,
here is the girl who lies.
They move away from her, whispering.
Shunning her.

But she laughs, the girl.
Hysterically.

For she knows.
Not only her, everyone else also had always been lying.
That everyone is a liar.

Friend and a Friend

2008-08-05T16:54:00.000-07:00

Sachiv stood staring at the card he had made. Would Bheru like it, he wondered. The card was a square piece of paper with a line that started straight, curving down to the right. It read, "I am Sorry". Under it, the boy had drawn two stick figured boys, with smiles that were as wide as the faces. His friend, Bheru stood across from him, he stared at his shoes and stole quick glances towards Sachiv. Sachiv was nervous, he wondered whether he and Bheru would be friends again. Bheru was his best friend, and who would he play cricket with if Bheru wasn't there?

Yesterday had been like any other day, they had both walked from their bus and before going home had decided to meet as always at 4:30, after finishing homework. Today they planned on playing football. It was different everyday, sometimes football, or cricket, or maybe basketball. They always played with Sachiv's toys, as Bheru didnt have any. Sachiv didnt mind at all, he liked sharing his toys. At 4:30 Sachiv reached the playground with his football. He kicked around the ball as he waited for his friend. Bheru showed up eventually, he came walking, his hands in his pockets, his face grim.
"Oh there you are, your lateee" Sachiv exclaimed, kicking the ball towards Bheru. Bheru didnt kick the ball back. He stood still, staring at Sachiv with a mixed expression.
"Helloo, whts wrong with you? Don't you wanna play?"
No reply from Bheru.
"We can play cricket if you want, I'll go bring the bat"
Bheru walked towards his friend, and said in a low voice.
"Shut up Sachiv. I dont want to play with YOUR cricket bat, YOUR basketball, YOUR football....I hate you, leave me alone."
Sachiv stood still for a moment, and then he pushed his best friend, and screamed,
"Fine then, I dont wanna be you friend. You dont even have a toy to play, how will you play. I never wanna talk to you again. Leave...go away."
Bheru stood up, his hands were scraped. His expression of anger had turned into sadness.
He said again in a low voice.
"I am sorry". And then he turned around and ran.
Sachiv felt bad right away. He had pushed his friend, and said bad things to him. And he wasn't able to say sorry. He decided he would make a card for him and give it to him the next day at bus stop. But he didnt undersatnd why his friend had said what he had. He was always nice.

Within the next ten minutes, before the bus came Sachiv and Bheru became friends again. Soon after, the event was completely forgotten and Sachiv didn't wonder why Bheru had acted so the day before. But as the days went, Bheru came out to play lesser and lesser. At times he didn't come out for days. And when Sachiv would go to his house, and knock on the door, no one would open the door. Though often times he would hear screaming, and someone shouting from inside. Eventually within the year Bheru and his family moved away from the town. In the beginning Sachiv cried for his friend, but eventually he forgot him as he made new friends.

It was only years later he would remember his friend again, when he would hear his mother offhandedly mention Bheru and his family. The financial problems they had been in, the fights his parents had all the time. The screaming and shouting, neighbors could hear. At that time, Sachiv suddenly remembered his first real friend. Bheru. Who had always been nice, except in the last few months before he had left. He remembered the time Bheru refused to play with him, and the new knowledge made him realize the reason behind Bheru's strange behavior.

Years later when Sachiv would be trying to understand people's behavior, he would often delve into the reasons. He knew reasons didn't always justify behaviors, but there were always reasons. And he would often wonder about Bheru, who had taught him this.

Subtleties

2008-07-25T06:34:00.000-07:00

The bending road, curves into the impossibilities of life,
along with the road the mind travels.
It stops as the red dot emerges, spreading.
The minds starts to wonder as to what lies beyond itself
It tries to grasp the subtleties governing it.
Unable to grasp, it shudders
Had it truly never understood itself?

All this time, never had it stopped and thought.
Life had went on, like a lazy stream.

Was happiness, gaining respect by being what someone had asked one to be
Or
Is unhappiness living a life in which one truly doesnt know oneself,
living a life of dishonesty, not only cheating others but also oneself.

The board of Destiny

2008-07-01T17:20:00.000-07:00

The pond in the gloomy sunset looked red
like blood
A bad omen.
Foreshadowing the destruction the morning would cause?

What had I done?
For
the humiliation I had felt, the hardships I had faced
how much had I let vengeance take over me...

Would I be the destruction of the world I knew,
of my husbands, my brother, my sons, the brother of my husband they knew not of.
Would I be the cause of bloodshed, the unrighteousness that will come about in the next eighteen days?

Or.
Was all this never in my hands
Was it already etched into palms, written on foreheads, laid somewhere out there as the fate of mankind long before the epitome of time came about.
Was I just a player in the hands of destiny?
A dice thrown as a clever strategy to end what needed to end, and to start anew?

____________________________________________________________________

Dedicated to: Panchaali

Influenced by: The palace of Illusions and the Mahabharata

____________________________________________________________________

The thread no longer intact

2008-06-02T07:16:00.000-07:00

What had I expected?
A thread forever stretching, connecting us.
Regardless of the circumstances, regardless of time--and its way of snapping invisible threads

How easily one forgets the brighter days, only remembering those few dreary ones...
Which end up changing relationships.

Maybe we understand little, assume too much
And expect a lot more then we should
Delving forever into the mistakes? that the other makes

What remains now are just the awkward silences between conversations filled with fluff

The thread no longer intact...

Believing in Beliefs

2008-05-08T16:00:00.000-07:00

A few years ago I would have considered myself to be spiritual. I believed strongly. I believed regardless of what may be happening. Something inside of me that I could hold on it. It enabled me to get through many things without having to look for something beyond it, outside of me. And then suddenly the belief disappeared. Just like that. I can say it may have happened around three years ago when I was washed away by other things, superficial things. I tucked the belief inside of me, I ignored it and almost let it all go. Ironically at that time I assumed that I was more spiritual, a stronger believer. But I was wrong. And when things unexpectedly started hitting me, tripping me, hurting me I looked for support in other places not once believing in the belief hiding somewhere inside. And just when I thought I had failed completely, I believed once again. Suddenly it was back. And I found myself on the path again. The belief had bought back a lot to me. A closure and a beginning. It bought back confidence, a sense of direction.
Whether it is belief in God, or a child's belief that their blanket can keep them safe or other beliefs, it is beliefs and the hopes that they bring that keep us going at times.

Someone special

2008-04-27T15:51:00.000-07:00

In the path of life we come across many people

Some we never forget.

They are the people who...
Even though at one point may not travel the path with you...
return in the form of warm memories.

People who are special and unforgetful.
Who have made you smile, made your days brighter.

Happy Birthday Zephyr27
May all yours dreams come true.

A glassed fu'ad

2008-04-16T17:42:00.000-07:00

Ties.
Build homes in hearts...
of glass.
Beautiful but very fragile
Easily shattered by a mistrusted stone.
Into thousands, millions of pieces...
forever broken?
Never to be rebuilt?

Time, it will take to put the pieces together again.
A smile, a glimpse
a something
may help.
But how long will it take...
to look upon the glass home once again.
Before its shattered by just a gust of wind.

The faceless women

2008-02-26T18:47:00.000-08:00

The seat I sat on felt too hard. The air too suffocating. I was alone. Along with my sorrows. The grueling facts of life haunting me. Confusion following me around. Many stops came and went by but I remained alone. Until a couple got in, somehow I could tell they were a couple even though there was no physical indication as such. The man was tall, with abnormally large hands. They seemed to hang around, flopping about, seeming too useless. And then there was the women, I looked at her, without knowing whether she looked back. Her face hidden. It was strange not knowing whether she was looking at me or not. So I quickly shifted my eyes away from her, and looked out the window at the blur of trees, and people. Delving once again into my deep confusion, not knowing where to go, what to do, how to do. Choices looming at me. But unknowingly my eyes shifted once again towards the couple. Now they were talking, low whispers inaudible to me. They seemed to be arguing. But I realized quickly enough that they weren't arguing, arguing took two people. Here only the man was talking, and she was listening, nodding and shrinking back. And then she said something, something more then a monosyllable. Right away his large hands shot at her wrist and held it, not affectionately. The women froze, and so did the man, they stared at each other, the man with a stern expression, the women I imagined with fear. For a few seconds they stayed so, and then suddenly the man released her hand and they both went back to staring out the window. It suddenly struck me then as to how much I had. So much more then this women. Much more then many others. I had freedom, I had choices. Having confusion from choices is having life. Not having any confusion is having no life. I got off the next stop, with a resolve in my heart, and the faceless women's face always inked into my mind.

Thicket, that of an Amity

2008-02-05T18:48:00.001-08:00

Maybe if I had stood a little longer,
I would have understood
I would have realized
They were just words and nothing more.

Sugary, syrupy, charming words.
That had me tripping, before I knew.

And now I have fallen,
headlong into a thicket of dishonesty and deceit
Tangled, wanting to leave.

What I see maybe isn’t.
What I don’t see maybe is.

Confused and lost I feel.
And sad.
Knowing not only have I lost an amity
But also the capability to believe.

Gaining Dreams

2008-01-29T17:21:00.000-08:00

For it is in dreams I see, not in life.
Repeadly, filling every night. And all day dreams.
The deep brown eyes
Far off, like a spectacle the future may hold
A something for a lonely heart
Beautiful, beckoning, kind and so very True...

A storm within

2008-01-07T13:46:00.000-08:00

A storm like none before.

Tormenting rains and billowing winds

The boat may sink very soon

I hold on to it, knowing I will sink with it

The water washes agaisnt me, soaking me

Inviting me in its embrase

I feel the urge to jump, like those before

The water, so clear and unreal

Beautiful, with many secrets, traps

So inviting.
I want to jump, yet something stops me
Hope.
Like a warning it emerges
From somewhere deep inside
Tugging, squeezing the heart
More real, more beautiful
More inviting then the water

I look up to the horizon
Keeping hope within me
And.
Something emerges from it
Much more real, more beautiful
More inviting then even hope

टेस्टिंग हिन्दी ट्रांस्लितेरेशन

2008-01-07T13:43:00.000-08:00

नमस्ते आप सब कैसे है
मेरे ब्लोग में आपका स्वागत है
आप कमेंट्स छोड़ना मत ब्लुल्याई गा
मेरे ब्लोग मैं आने कई लिए बहुत धन्यवाद

Lotus, Brown

2007-12-13T22:21:00.000-08:00

Beyond the hills he lives

The man of iron

One without a mask broad shoulders

Eyes, lotus like brown

Voice, vibrant and deep

He walks towards me with his umbrella

Lest I get wet in the rain

And my flowers wilter

I blush behind my hat, a crimson red

And hope for the rain to never stop

Basket of flowers

2007-12-07T22:39:00.000-08:00

There I stand, next to the lake
With my basket of flowers
They pass by,
one by one,
greeting me in their pleasant ways
I smile and talk
They laugh and flatter
Acting so well...
But then the sun goes down
And the rain comes along
Everything changes and much is revealed
They run past me, their expressions blank
To the other bearers of flowers
Their fake sincerity washing down their faces
I stand alone, my flowers weltering
waiting?
waiting.
And then one comes along,
With a face so tranquil, an umbrella in hand
With a gentle smile, a firm grip
One true to oneself
One without a mask
And I close my eyes, and feel the warmth of the sun peaking behind the blue clouds

Silence

2007-11-27T21:04:00.000-08:00

Silence
It speaks more
feeling tumble as if in darkness
confusion, misunderstanding
A few words spoken
In anguish, pain...maybe?
And now those words
Have led to this?
A swollen silence, awkward, dark
A Trailing blue, deep, beckoning
But nothing is lost, for...
A smile could bring the light into this suffocating
Silence

The Lonesome two

2007-11-15T16:54:00.000-08:00

A strong wind
The two stand
Their eyes closed
Waiting...
An unlikely couple
Deep, dark secrets binding them
A liquidy attraction
Of beating hearts
And floral eyes
Complete silence, peace, a calm
Their hands touch
And the wind blows
a bit softly...

Robinson?....yes sir

2007-11-11T16:27:00.000-08:00

“Robinson…what do you think?”
“Sir…its different..”
“How so…?”
“Well it’s like a garden, don’t you think?”
“hmm…”
“bright flowers sir, so many kinds…”
“and the people, Robinson, what about them?”
“Sir, they are…rather very human, very much so”
“really?”
“They are human, with so many sorrows and flaws, they are open and loud with a smile…a laugh,…however inside they often carry a deep sorrow. They don’t hide anything, their sorrows or their flaws. Though they use neither as an excuse… they are strong sir, very strong. Beautifully so.”
*sign* “Welcome Robinson, Welcome”

Stronger

2007-10-31T20:46:00.000-07:00

A gentle breeze
The moon’s gentleness
And the velvety night

A few words and everything turned around

The wind whips
The moon's too bright
And the night fearful

Life summed up in a few lines he said
So much had occurred
What all he had stood

Enlightenment he said, he gained
Became stronger, became wiser
Realized he had become what he was not

Learns everyday, realizes there is something more

Stands up straight as the wind whips
Looks at the harsh moon light
And walks into the fearful night

Mockery? I laugh and laugh and laugh

2007-10-15T17:32:00.000-07:00

Sadness…maybe a bit
Hatred…not at all
Just disgust, a bit nasty, but a lot more funny

Seeping throughout the body, like sweet poison
It’s taste, acidic in the mouth
Lingering, sometimes strong, sometimes weak

A promise made,
And then forgotten?
Oh wait, no…ignored

Ignored and let go
Other desires, taking over
Weighing, and the own desire comes out heavier

No excuses or reassurances
No reason given
Letting it go, hoping it could be forgotten

My laughter rises, the slow poison of disgust taking over
A Lesson? A test?
Mind swirls, and I laugh more

What I believed, and what came through
An opened gateway, to something new?
Never expected, thinking otherwise till the end

A fool I maybe, but not the fool they expected me to be
Never do I forget, disgust I hide too well
Just a bit nasty, but more funny
I laugh, laugh and laugh, so hard, as I roll on the floor

A letter yellowed, frayed

2007-10-07T07:17:00.000-07:00

A letter lay on the desk
frayed, with a think layer of dust
What lay inside?
mystery, a letter forgotten.

A love letter, filled with words of passion?
A letter scattered with rumors, gossip spilling out?
A message of well being, warm wishes?
A letter of criticism, written by one seeking an argument?
Or a warm note by an old friend, waiting to hear from his childhood companion?

But it mattered not what lay inside any longer.
For time had passed too quickly
the senders long gone...
A love, news, wishes, an argument, a good friend
forever lost...

If the letter had been opened,
what it might have bought?
no one knows...

Many Lives

2007-10-02T07:41:00.001-07:00

And there he lay…
The man of dreams…
His face…

Of a young child in his mother’s lap, wanting to get away, explore all there is
Of a monk, in a dark world, moving along using the light of his spirituality
Of a thinker, thinking of what is not, not what is
Of a man, hoping never to be noticed, sitting in the back, enjoying the calm
Of a man, with a hundred children, smiling away…so many people surrounding him
Of a singer, singing songs, liked by many, yet sung by few
Of a traveler lost in the wide world, walking the different paths that life offers him
Of a soldier who fought many battles, not winning all, but never quitting any

And now he’s lying on grass that’s no longer green
Thinking of all his dreams, the old battles he has won
He says to himself, “is it all over, have I lost this one”
But he smiles, as a voice from inside sings back,
“No, you haven’t. You have won the war, for you lived many lives, never giving up on any”

Masked Man

2007-09-24T17:14:00.000-07:00

There he was in the middle of the stage
Wearing a mask, jumping around.
For he was a clown, always smiling
Hiding all that went on inside

He jumped, he laughed, he toppled, he ran,
He did what they wanted, for he was what he was...just a clown
His expression, oh so funny!
Showed a lot, yet revealed so little
People thought him happy, as he made everyone laugh
What was inside, always hidden
for he was a masked man.

He had to make people feel good, for he was a clown
It mattered not what he felt inside?
For as they say, he was only a clown.
One who makes a fool of himself, as he fools everyone else around.

The unknown and unlabeled

2007-09-20T07:44:00.000-07:00

We, in general are rather reluctant and uncomfortable to leave something as unlabeled, and unknown. Everyone tries, but having it classified, would it change anything about it?

Please leave comments as to what you think.

The unknown

2007-09-15T09:14:00.000-07:00

So much inside...what all can be said?
So much to reveal...who will listen?
So much misery...no one can really understand.

Wrong words spring from that unknown misery...a misery that cannot be revealed
A dark secret, that hides so carefully in the folds of the heart

It is this, that no one seems to understand.
It is this, that I cannot reveal.

If only one realizes I mean no harm...

Extrordinary Dance perfomance

2007-09-12T17:28:00.000-07:00

The following link opens up a video of a dance show called boogie woogie. I found one performance excellent and very touching. The performance I am talking about goes from 01:37 to 9:41.

http://media.putfile.com/Boogie-Woogie-07-09-by-apnicommunity-razaak-2

Images

2007-09-08T07:50:00.000-07:00

I travel day and night
exhausted
I lie on the floor and stare at the sky
Image after image flies by
vivid and colorful
effortless, they grow and fill the whole sky
I smile and I walk more
I travel day and night
exhausted
Again I lie on the floor and stare at the sky
The images are no longer vivid, colorful they maybe but seem too gaudy
I squint, I glare, I try to make them as they were
But they seem reluctant and no longer flare
I want to stay and look for them
But time leaks by and the wind pulls me along.
I travel day and night
to stop once or twice
but never again for too long...

An year of humiliation and lessons

2007-09-05T19:43:00.000-07:00

I can feel my heart beating. Fast. Very Fast. My legs shake, and my throat is dry. I want to say something, but I cant. And the tears sting my eyes. Why do I feel so? My peers from my sixth grade class are picking on me yet again. They had found me, a new girl to this class, to the school, to the country, rather a easy target. It was surprising how cruel they could really be. My anguish seemed like their happiness. My pain their joy. They seem to find lots of occasions to tell me I was different, and wasn't welcome.
On friendship day that year a girl bought cards for everyone in the class. Except for me. As she passed the cards to everyone, it was first time the girl, and others in the class realized that I actually existed. And then started series of nasty tricks, comments. They made fun of my accent, my clothing, anything that they found as being different. One very religious girl in the class wanted to convert me to a her religion. She told me I would go to hell because I was a Hindu. She told me I would be saved if I become Catholic. I was rather shocked, I had never heard expressions such as "go to hell". When I refused to do so, she accused me of being the servant of the devil. Again I, who was ignorant in such words up till then, was not only taken aback but dismayed by their accusation.
The boys in the class had the tendency of asking questions that they knew I would be offended by. They asked me whether everyone in my country smells bad, whether they pick garbage from the streets and eat and whether they get dots drilled in their heads. To ignore the taunting and the prospect of eating alone in the cafeteria, I started going to the library and hiding behind stacks of books, and eating lunch discreetly, hoping the librarian wouldn't catch me. The library became my haven for that hour, and my love for books grew. I decided I would spend the rest if the lunches this way, however the librarian caught me one day and told me to start mingling with the rest of the class.
So I started "hanging out" with the "cool" kids in the class. To be liked by them, I started acting like them. I started making fun of others just like they had done to me. I thought this would make me happy, but I was wrong. Totally wrong. On one occasion as me and my "cool" friends sat together outside during the lunch time, a woman passed by. She was maybe in her late thirties, with a huge smile, that seemed to lit up her face yet give a comical impression at the same time. As she approached the other girls started laughing. She came up to me, and gave me a compliment about my hair. Instead of thanking her, I laughed along with the other "cool" kids. The woman's face changed instantly as she saw me laughing, and I knew I had hurt her feelings. Later that day as I sat in my history class, rather then listening to the teacher talk about the civil war all I could think of was, what I had done. I came to realize that what I was doing was wrong and against what I stood for, and so I decided to go back being the real me. I stopped following them and trying to be like them. Every time I felt that what they were doing was wrong I would stand up to them. This made them turn against me even more, but now I was no longer frightened my their teasing and taunting. They themselves had taught me a new defence.
After that school year I moved to another town and then to another, here my differences and my ideas were accepted. I was welcomed and I made new friends. Yet those memories in my first year in the new country taught me valuable lessons that I never forgot and never will. I learned that I needn't become like someone to be accepted, that I stand up for what I believe in and accept others as they are.

Gloom/Bloom ?

2007-09-05T19:35:00.000-07:00

Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom
Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom
Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom
Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom
Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom
Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom
Gloom or Bloom?

I must be going crazy as some say...;)

My Visit to India

2007-08-15T17:10:00.000-07:00

I dont remeber when I wrote this, I think in middle school, soon after my return from a visit to India...
-----------------------
I close my eyes and remember the day, we went to visit India
I remember stepping into the Mumbai Airport smelling the hot sizzling samosas.
And the warmth, and the hum of the ceiling fan
The wait in Mumbai was long, four hours of staring at my diary
Trying to write something, yet finding no words
The flight to Hyderabad, the warm "Namaste" of the air hostess

We reached Hyderabad
I waited staring at the door labeled "visitors", as it opened and closed
Trying to see if my grandmothers were there
Trying to see the faces of my relatives.
I was the first to walk out, lugging suitcases along.
My cousins shouting my name, hugging me. My aunts and uncles asking me questions.
And behind them all, my grandmothers waiting for their turn.

And I closed my eyes, and truly felt, that I had come home.

2007-08-14T15:08:00.000-07:00

Happy Independence Day

15th August, 2007

60th Anniversary!!!

"If there is one place on the face of earth where all the dreams of living men have found a home from the very earliest days when man began the dream of existence, it is India!"

-Romaine Rolland

20 funny one liners

2007-08-13T09:56:00.000-07:00

Got this in email...who ever came up with them I am guessing was a guy...
_____________________________________________________
Twenty Great One Liners.....
1. Regular naps prevent old age... especially if you take them while driving.
2. Having one child makes you a parent; having two makes you a referee.
3. Marriage is a relationship in which one person is always right and the other is the husband!
4. They said we should all pay our tax with a smile. I tried- but they wanted cash.
5. A child's greatest period of growth is the month after you've purchased new school uniforms.
6. Don't feel bad. A lot of people have no talent.
7. Don't marry the person you want to live with, marry the one you cannot live without... but whatever you do, you'll regret it later.
8. You can't buy love. . But you pay heavily for it.
9. True friends stab you in the front.
10. Forgiveness is giving up my right to hate you for hurting me.
11. Bad officials are elected by good citizens who do not vote.
12. Laziness is nothing more than the habit of resting before you get tired.
13. My wife and I always compromise. I admit I'm wrong and she agrees with me.
14. Those who can't laugh at themselves leave the job to others.
15. Ladies first. Pretty ladies sooner.
16. It doesn't matter how often a married man changes his job, he still ends up with the same boss.
17. They call our language the mother tongue because the father seldom gets to speak.
18. Saving is the best thing. Especially when your parents have done it for you.
19. Wise men talk because they have something to say; fools talk because they have to say something.
20. Real friends are the ones who survive transitions between address books.

Funny Story

2007-08-10T16:43:00.000-07:00

Here is something I got in email. Am sharing it with you...
---
Two elderly people living in Trailer Estates, he was a Widower and she a widow, they had known each other for a number of years.One evening there was a community supper in the big activity center. The two were at the same table, across from one another as the meal went on, he took a few admiring glances at her and finally gathered the courage to ask her, " Will you marry me?"After about six seconds of ' careful consideration' , she answered "Yes. Yes, I will. "The meal ended and, with a few more pleasant exchanges, they went to Their respective places.Next morning, he was troubled. "Did she say 'yes' or did she say 'no'?" He couldn't remember. Try as he might, he just Could not recall. Not even a faint memory. With trepidation, he went to the telephone and called her.First, he explained that he didn't remember as well as he used to. Then he reviewed the lovely evening past. As he gained a little more courage, he inquired, "When I asked if you would marry me, did you say 'Yes' or did you say 'No'?"He was delighted to hear her say, "Why, I said, 'Yes, yes I will' and I Meant it with all my heart. " Then she continued, "I am so glad that you called, because I couldn't remember who had asked me."

Anamika

2007-08-06T17:49:00.000-07:00

Started writing this fictional short story a long time ago. Finished it only recently. Hope you enjoy it. Do leave comments. Thanks...
-------------------------------------------------
I dont know what made me decide. I was just sitting on a rock, and the waves were washing agaisnt it. It was night, there was a moon, very large and beautiful. Nothing else. No bustling tourists, no lone figures in the distance, no lovers with their hands entwined, no one. It was a calm night. Just me, my thoughts, and memories. The dark memories that always haunted me. When I wasnt with other people, or wasnt watching TV or reading, or at work, they came back to keep me company. Not that I wanted them but they came anyway. And then there was the guilt, but worse than that was the pain that came along. It came suddenly, searing through me, the tears would roll down my eyes, and momentarily the pain and the tears would blind me from everthing except the truth. Sometimes I tried ignoring it, but it never worked. It just stayed there like a bad taste, lingering, not leaving even after rinsing the mouth. So while sitting on that rock I decided. I would go to the hospital. And do what I was always afraid to do...
I started for the hospital the next day itself after my usual Saturday shopping. While going to the hospital I wondered what he would say, maybe he'll throw things at me, or scream or what? I could'nt think of anything pleasant,I made up scenarios in my head of what may happen, but nothing made much sense.
The hospital was a dingy place, with a couple of broken windows and the paint peeling off in places. It had an air of an abandoned building, though it wasnt. I had passed it hundreds of time in the last few years, but never dared go in. By the time I reached and parked my car, it was well after my usual lunchtime and yet I felt no hunger. Instead I felt an aching numbness and an unknown desire to throw up. Nervousness, and fear. Worse than I had imagined. What was I afraid of? The blame, the well deserved blame.
The first thing I noticed about the hospital was the smell. The smell was strong, suffocating, the smell of medicines, white bandages, red and yellow. I had liked the smell once, a long time ago when I was young. But now it made me double over with grief, as sharp vivid images flew into my head. I tried ignoring them and walked to the desk where a woman was sitting, reading a film magazine. She looked up as I approacehd her. I sttaggered as I spoke to her. She seemed to be used to visitors and patients with nervous breakdowns because without blinking an eye she looked up the name and told me where to go.
I paused before going into the room, as the door was closed. I felt uneasy, maybe I should leave. Yet I knocked on the door. Nothing. And then a moment later a voice. Clear and surprised? "Come in". I entered the room and closed the door behind me. The boy was lying on a cot with blankets upto his chest. He was bald and his skin was pale, very pale. I felt myself going livid. And then unexpected tears. He looked worse than I had imagined, much worse. And his eyes so empty and sad. Sad. I remembered my brother.
He spoke first.
" Um...who are you?"
I wondered if he would remember. Maybe. Maybe not. And then he said,
" You seemed to have come to the wrong place. I am an AIDS patient".
I didnt know what to say.
" I..I have come to visit you".
His expression was one of surprise.
"Are you a doctor, nurse?", "no".
I didnt say anything, just started at him. He stared back, with a look of curiousity and concern?
" I have come to talk to you about something important, really important"
He tilted his head sideways, looking at me like a child,
" um..but I dont seem to know you, have we met before?"
I thought about that. Have we? Not really, I had seen him before but he hasnt seen me. Almost four years ago, lying on a cot similar to this one, unconsious. And lying on another cot had been my brother.
I sat down on a chair, a rickety chair with uneven legs. He must have sensed something, for he asked,
" you alright mam?"
"yea I am fine"
He smiled, showing his teeth, which were yellow.
" I never get any visitors, except my brother, so it seems strange someone have come to see me"
I tried smiling back. But could'nt.
"Anirudh, do you remember who ingested you with the HIV virus?...do you?"
He looked perplexed.
" No I am afraid not, I don't know his name. But he...he had AIDS, I know that. He was..."
He paused and looked up.
" Why do you ask?"
" His name was Anant. He was my brother."
There was a pause. I could hear the traffic outside.
"ooh...How is he doing, is he any better?"
I looked up. His face showed genuine concern. I was moved. Was he not angry?
" He died. Killed himself"
He let out an involuntary sigh. I looked up and continued.
" What he did was wrong, but it wasnt his fault. It was mine. It was me, my parents. We made his do that."
He didnt say anything. I could feel the tears trickling down my face.
" When we found out he had HIV. We sent him to a hospital, far away from us. We didnt visit his once. All we could about was the family name. What would people think when they knew Anant had AIDS, we could'nt let them know. We shut him off from out lives. He tried reaching us, running away from the hospital. But each time he was thown out, and sent back. I wanted to visit, my parents did too. But we never did. We took away all the light from his life. And then one day he ran away from the hospital again. This time he didnt come home, instead he ran into a restaurant, the place you worked in. And he...."
Another pause.
" It wasnt his fault. He was always a nice, caring...the circumstaces turned him into..."
I looked at him. There were tears in his eyes.
" The reason you are like this today, is me. Only me. Not my brother. "
He didnt say, he looked at me with his caring gaze.
I dont know how long I sat there like that. Crying. It might have been minutes, hours...
---
Anirudh died a year ago. Fifteen years after he was infected. He died suddenly. And I would like to think happily. Only two days before his death, he told me and his brother, how he was ready to die, die a happy man. We both told him to shut his mouth and eat. And the moment passed as quickly as it came. Now I hope that he had meant what he said...
Anshul is working in the town now, no longer living with me. He comes every weekend and we go to the shore often. And as I sit on a rock watching him talk I often feel like I am seeing both Anirudh and Anant talking along. Or maybe its just a trick of my eye in the moon's light.

Never winning Darkness

2007-03-20T15:41:00.000-07:00