Take Note, There's Happiness Gliding By!

Out for a stroll in the evening, met with
An innocuous smile flowing from
The eyes of a face across the street.
I smile back, happy, without bothering about
The who, how and why of it.
It made my day. 


Groggy and sulking, dragged myself out of home 
Early morning, the other day.
Overheard a conversation, it made me laugh.
Driving around, running months old rotten errands.
Counting minutes stuck at the red light, 
Now fervently hoping flying cars will be invented someday soon. 
Muttering away, I go on a honking spree.
When a quick wave of tiny hands,
Coupled with a chuckle and smile 
Greets me through a car window 
As I happen to look to my right.
Left smiling sheepishly at him,
I waved back like an excited kid.
While the cars behind honked away.


Irked by the nonchalance of the shopkeeper,
As I made my way out of her shop,
Ticked another errand off the list;
With a frown on my face.
The heavy bags on either side,
The weather at its worst. 
Paved the way to set
My mood to 'annoyed', next.
As I took the turn for my house,
Noticed a wagging tail by my side. 
I stopped, so did he. I gestured at it, half bent.
He cocked his head to one side, ears upright, and
Tail wagging still, while I laughed. 
Finally kept my bags on the pavement, caressed it,
While it looked ahead, then at me, keenly. 
Eventually I walked on, it hopped across the road.
Delving into the land of nod that night
As I recollected those happy sights,
Let out a prayer for each of them.
Chose to remember these wondrous delights, hard to find.

Of Telegrams and Letters.

The other day, I stepped out of the house in the morning, I had to mail a letter to a friend who'd recently moved to a different city. I was doing this after ages. I remember posting letters, post-cards and inland letters alike, regularly to my grandparents in Calcutta, but this was till some seven-eight years back. After that, this routine of writing long letters was replaced by convenient telephonic conversations. 

                 With all the recent flutter created regarding the 160-year old Telegraph service coming to a halt for good, and this recent incident, which I'm yet to complete narrating, one can draw a connection. So as I obliviously took turns and crossed roads to reach the Post Office after God knows how many years, I was met with a sudden doubt in my head- was the Post Office still located where it was when I'd seen it last? The question is, when had I seen it last? I sure couldn't remember. What sounded like a ridiculous thought at first started gaining more credibility in my mind as I took further steps in that very lane, unable to spot the Post Office yet. At first I thought to myself, 'How could I not know when the P.O. had shifted location?', followed by a wave of despondence, thinking I'd woken myself early that morning for nothing. Just when I was thinking all of this, sure enough the Post Office came in sight. Instead of being a little relieved because now I had a Post Box to put the letter into, I felt my steps slowing, wondering what thoughts clouded my sight over the countless times I'd crossed that lane, all these years, on my way to another place, or to visit a shop in the same lane. 

  
                       But that wasn't all. I confusedly asked this person seated on a shabby chair behind the counter if I could get an envelope for a letter I had to post, he directed me to another counter. I asked him for an envelope then, and then I asked for a stamp, I mentioned it twice, yet he handed out change from the envelope purchase and went back to his desk-work, while I wondered why he wouldn't respond. I peered at the envelope, and registered the detail that the envelope had a printed stamp at the corner, so one wouldn't have to purchase and paste stamps as earlier. Except that this was one part of the letter-sending adventure I was looking forward to today, gluing the stamp on to the envelope. I wrote the address, glued the flap shut, and almost reluctantly started to shove the letter into the post box, when I withdrew my hand, thinking I would definitely want to click a picture of the envelope. The thought surrounding my head was- 'Who knows when I'll post a letter again. Sigh' So there I was, tracing my steps back home finally. Then I thought of the now stalled telegraph services, and how people had queued up on the last day at the counter, as late as 10: 30 in the night, and felt like I'd just experienced something similar. I had thought too, of sending across a telegram to someone, so I could boast of having sent it ten, twenty, thirty years later. I didn't. And it only felt better when my friend mentioned how he didn't send one in the last few days either just so he'd know what it feels like to send a telegram or he could mention the same to someone. Knowing that you probably didn't have the word 'telegram' mentioned in any of your numerous conversations with numerous people, say, in the past five years. That does sound odd now, doesn't it, flocking to their office on the last day, sending their revenues to a skyrocketing high on a day the officials working there know is to be the last at 'work'. 

                                 I'd been oblivious to the existence of the Post Office all these years maybe, whenever I'd pass by it, the years I didn't send letters. I had the option of sending in an email to that friend, knowing I had that letter saved in a word doc on my system, I chose to send in a letter though, and somewhere it makes me a little happy. I may not have made a beeline to the telegram office on the last day to send one, and we all know we tend to hold in sight or memories only what is important to us, but the question is, what are you trying to prove by rushing to send a telegram to a loved one today, you're trying to commemorate something that won't exist anymore, and why, because till date it didn't really matter to you, except the 5 marks the question 'Write a telegram to XYZ conveying so and so' would fetch you in your English examination in school? 

The Vantage Point

Drenched in the new-found joy
Lurking, like a water-drop to a bird. 
(Her) Taking tipsy-turvy strides,
Nursing affections, hiding coy smiles
Under laughter and a grin at times. 
Because all that stays, when glances kiss;
Pursed lips and clenched fists 
Conveying the love brimming forth. 

A terse turn, then a collage of colours 
Swerves towards and merges before her eyes.
Resumed walking, halted in thoughts.  
Memories and visions clash, collude 
To spill out the venom from her heart. 

Bruised, damaged, till she got home.
Swinging between dilemma and guilt
Like a rag-doll flagellating itself. 
To go sleeping on nightmares or 
Wake up to happy thoughts?  
Only truth will decide. Or should she. 

She heard it all. Wished to know more. 
That she couldn't, she knew, too. 
A quote stared at her from the wall.
'What you believe is what you see.'
She let out a weak chortle. 
Led back into those blinding hues.