Dancing My Way to Bliss.

Me and my friends dancing our crazy dance at a friends' birthday party last year. :D

                   

To all those with so called 'two left feet', who love to prance around anyway, here's a high five, and my tale. Though I'm here, finally learning the twists and taps and turns of dance at 21 [they call it chasse and passe at class since I'm learning jazz], there's a lot that finally got me to doing it, eventually. 

           Almost two months into learning dance, or jazz (well, it's not so much about the dance form here, yet), I only wish I had picked this up earlier. To see people balance themselves, take graceful jumps and bends, as I enter the studio each time, with such agility, only makes my heart longingly yearn for the day when my dance movements would be as graceful, eased and something that comes naturally to me.  

                                   From my earliest recollections, I have only loved to dance. Till I was 5 or 6 though, I just wouldn't agree to dance on some song that an aunt or my parents would prod me to. In school, I would never miss auditioning for all dance events and competitions- be it for dancing on a patriotic song for Independence Day celebrations, or a jazzy number to perform on Teachers' Day. However, I would be chucked from the auditions, each and every time, right till I was class XI or so. Shamelessly enough, I would try again, getting auditioned, and eliminated by the same people. :P Thinking myself a 'hilarious' dancer, I would dance in the funniest ways possible, happy that it made my classmates laugh, and think that was going to be my best attempt at dance ever. So the only times I would actually dance used to be in the washroom with my earphones on, knowing I can dance only for ten-fifteen minutes before mom starts to wonder what I'm doing in the washroom. :P 

                    College arrived, and luckily enough I found this gang of four friends who loved to (and still do) dance for the fun of it. So when classes would get cancelled, which is so typical of DU, we'd bolt the classroom door, play all kinds of songs on our phones at high volume, and dance away to glory, standing on benches, and near the professor's podium. The steps were C-R-A-Z-Y. Thanks to our impromptu dancing sprees at college, I learnt I wasn't the horrible dancer I always thought I was. :P At a birthday party or a stayover at a friends', I would get complimented for my dance. I continued to dance when no one would be home, or at night, with doors shut, lights off. One fine day, the lights went on. I began to sway, twist and tap, in front of the mirror, seeing myself dance, for the first time in 19-20 years. 

                     I tend to visualize the happiest of sights when listening to music, and it's only very recently that I realized a few things. I would dance in my visualizations, I would do a random, cheery jig when happy for an XYZ reason. I would often imagine myself dancing away, enthralling one and all with my performance, in the college auditorium. Yet I would hesitate to dance freely. And it was only now that one day, in my hours of boredom, the thought struck me. Having realized that this was one thing that gave me such immense joy, something I had always loved doing, and yet never dared to do- it was only foolish to dance behind shut doors, with lights off. Then, Danceworx happened. Being the grammar and spelling nazi that I am, (the X in Danceworz greatly disturbed me) I'd wonder how the ambience there would be. Boy, am I impressed with the pains that the instructors take to ensure that each of us give it our best shot. More importantly, that we dance, no matter how muddled in the head we may be about the steps.  
Which is what I did all these years. 

                     With the dance studio falling on the way back home from office everyday, I have this strong impulse, every day, to ask the auto driver to halt the auto in front of the place. To pay him off, jump out of the auto, and run into the studio, start dancing wearing my office clothes. Indeed, many a time, I am only a thought away from actually doing this. And I might just do it one of these days. And on days I do go for classes after nine hours of work, I am brimming with enthusiasm, and just too eager to reach the fourth floor and start to dance along with everyone after dropping my office bags. 


                        Indeed, dancing amidst and with people makes a difference, rather it is what makes all the difference, I have realized. To know that dancing makes you happy is wonderful, but to dance with ten others, is to celebrate the thrill of dancing in its true spirit! 

The Gift of Gratitude.

Gratitude, that started on a spurt,
Ought to be taken with a pinch of salt.
For it was never heartfelt in the first place,
But merely, a wandering minds' somersault.
Rather than conveying your indebtedness 
Before an idol every day.
Let each soul who counts in your life,
Know that they'll matter still, today and every day. 

Balancing oneself on the vicissitudes of life,
One begins to realise, 
That to count things to be grateful for
Even in this serendipitous present moment, 
Is like counting stars in the sky- 
Some you spot, many you never can.
Funnily enough, each time we pray, 
That animated bundle of wishes for the future, 
Already has taken flight, before we express gratitude
For all the joys that came, went or stayed. 

For joys are but ephemeral bubbles, whereas 
Thankfulness encompasses what was, is, and will be.
Yes, it is the bigger gift; of realization.
That one moment, which makes
The innumerable moments gone by dearer, 
Than the happiest sketches of one's imagination.

Gratitude lies in reciprocation, 
To yourself, to another, to the universe.
It lies in caressing awaited joys, 
While nestling present pleasures.
Maybe it is, a state of mind, 
An affectionate glance, a careless smile.
And not a five-minute long,
Fifty-two word prayer's monotone at night.

At once freeing and limiting- You're happy at first,
To realise someone makes you happy,
Before you're already taken aback, 
As you stumble upon the fact, 
That for you, they'll always deserve more
Than you could ever offer them in turn.

Gratitude is, dancing the dance of dilemma
Humming along the chaotic choir of cacophonies.
Extending your hand to the coy caresses of joy,
Lazing behind Your hazy curtain of dreams,
Where earlier,
Eager in anticipation though, You stood stiff
With fear now and then lurking near,
Each time you were letting out a prayer.



P.S. What is gratitude, after all? This poem is but one aspect of it. Indeed, there is no start nor an end to this beautiful emotion. For me, thanking the universe for the joys that are yet to come, also counts as thankfulness. Then again, it could be gratitude for your own self, or for the happiness of another. Or being grateful for the fact that to someone, your presence in his or her life matters. It's about becoming a giver, from being a seeker at first. It's a feeling one can and should cherish at all times. Not for the bad things that could have happened to you but didn't, or for things you want in the future, but for you things, people, thoughts, ideas that you do have, right now. And indeed, once you start counting, you can never stop. Have we ever tried, counting, though? =)

'You could change your mail id, no?'

                             Ever had people coyly suggesting that you change your mail id for a 'maturer' sounding one? At fourteen I created my first mail id, and  I've been using it ever since. Recently, I'd put up my resume on sites for job searches, and there too, in the section of Contact details, I mentioned the same mail id- starwithsecret@xyz.com. A friend of mine said, 'You ought to change that. . I mean its companies viewing your CV, and your id sounds- childish. I nodded and created an alternate id thinking I'll use that only for work purposes. So, even  now, my primary mail id stays starwithsecret. . so today a cousin asked for my mail id and I sent her an instant reply mentioning the same, when she sends an ultra-instant reply saying, 'You might want to create a new id that mentions your name, this one sounds quite star-struck. :->'   

                             I don't know about being starstruck but I sure flinched my eyebrows in confusion first, and then deleted the text. People judging you by your mail ids- wait, does that even sound normal? Creating an id that sounds grown-up like is not what I ever did or will have in mind while creating one. Okay I admit, when I read  some guy's mail id in the Matrimonial Section, [it read, hadditod@yahoo.com], I was aghast. I just think it's time people started pondering over things other than how weird someone email id sounds like, no? Because that in itself sounds, weird@people.com. :/

                                   

Bachpan ke Din.

सुनी हुई कहानियाँ,
दोस्तों के साथ की गयी शैतानियाँ,
एक चॉकलेट के पाँच टुकड़े कर
बाँटी गयी खुशियाँ की खिल्कारियाँ ।

कभी नटखट, तो कभी भोले
जो मन में हो वही हैं झट से कहते ।
गुस्सा रह कर किसी का दिल दुखाना हम नहीं जानते,
पर नाराज़गी का दिखावा कर के किसी का प्यार बटोरने से हम नहीं शर्माते ।

बारिश की मीठी  बूँदें जब जीभ पर गिरती हैं
पानी के पोखर पर जब हमारे कागज़ की नौका सवार होती है
हम सितारे गिनने में जब फिर जुट जाते हैं
न जाने बड़े क्यूँ कहते हैं, 'ये तो अभी बच्चे  है। '

हाँ, हम भी बड़े होना चाहते हैं,
बिट्टू, बबली और चिंटू से भी लम्बा होना चाहते हैं
लेकिन ये बचपना और शरारतें साथ ले चलना चाहते हैं ।

Kritagyataa [Gratitude]

भाग्य में संभवतः  लिखा था,
आप मिलेंगे जीवन के दुखद करवट पर 
नहीं तो मैं आज क्या यह व्यक्त कर सकती?
कि मेरा आपके प्रति आभारी होना वास्तव में
मेरे जीवन शक्ति के प्रस्फुटित होने का प्रमाण है ?

सींच सींच कर, कईयों के अधूरे स्वप्नों
की नींव फिर से ढाल कर
उनको आँखें खोल, साहस, आशा और
सुविधाजनक मोर्चा को अपने मित्र बनाने का
मौका आपने दिया है।

मेरी आँखें बन कर, मुझे नीरस के तट से
विजय के पथ पर खींच लाए आप।
कृतज्ञता कितनी सुखद भावना है 
यह सीखा है आप के कारण । 
पहले केवल अंधकार दीखता था 
अब सितारे भी नज़र आते हैं । 

P.S. This is for a person who is majorly responsible for transforming my life. and he has been no less than a teacher, a friend and father to me, and this is a token from my side to him. :)

'PACH' is the Word!

Cowering behind a dormant blog. 
This will suffice, thought I. 
Arrived 28th July,
I was glad I finally gave PACH a try. 
Saw this is where love blossoms (quite literally), 
Friendships and bonds form in the blink of an eye. 


In place of stale 'Nice to meet you's' and curt smiles, 
Hugs, laughter and warmth have been the norm here.
One recites, another listens. 
Two others exchanging glances. 
Another probably shedding tears in overwhelming admiration. 
These moments when everyone lets out a heartfelt 'aww' in unison. 


Day 1, I was new to PACH, but what was new for me,
Was the emotions, thoughts and sights in the compositions.
While I laughed, cried, recited- let go; as if amidst friends for eons.
It demanded courage- but I didn't recoil into my shell this one time.
Rather, I was in a dreamy haze.
Felt like a bird just out of a cage.
The cage was in my mind, I realised.
And I decided to embrace PACH in my life.


I gathered from the very first day,
There was more to this than reciting
Another piece of verse every fortnightly Sunday. 
All I know is, I'm in love with this ever growing, happy, lively bunch.
That we all fondly call 'PACH'. 


P.S. Yes, this is a glimpse into the infinite amount of happiness, and magic, PACH has brought into my life. PACH - Poetry and Cheap Humour, a fortnightly gathering of people who like to pen down strands of thoughts with scribblings of ink, sharing their verses with each other. But like my poem states, there's more. If you have a poem you have forever longed to recite, other than just in front of the mirror, come along! I make no false claims when I say it'll be the best decision you may have made in recent times! =)

Chanting and Fasting in Today's Times

               Sri Sri says, one must find out every positive and negative aspect about a matter or idea, before criticizing it. This is something we all tend to not do. Maybe the trick is to be skeptical, but not cynical? It's better than being ignorant, definitely. In my case, I was anti-fasting, someone who wasn't quite convinced about how chanting incantations works, and someone who would, and still does prefer saying a prayer in my mind, in place of visiting the temple every week.

                    However, being open to hearing and knowing more [not the same as being brainwashed], I have come about to be not so anti these aforementioned practices. 

Chanting, is a mindless activity is what I thought. For what use is chanting mantras and shlokas without ?knowing what they mean? People boast of knowing mantras by rote but seldom do they follow it up with what it implies or means. So it's great if you are regular with your prayers, but it's lame if you don't even know what your Gayatri mantra or Hanuman chaalisa mean. Also, I had this notion that even if one knows the thorough meaning of the mantra he/she chants, it is not really going to benefit him. However, a conversation with a friend actually enlightened me about how chanting has scientifically been proven to have benefits. The word 'Aum' too, for instance, has been researched upon endlessly. I decided to try the same myself, I however have been chanting the Lotus Sutra's 'Nam Myoho Renge Kyo' someone recently introduced it to me and sure enough, I can sense the something 'good' coming out of it. For instance, you don't always need tangible stuff around you to be able to prove that your life is good, or better. Similarly, I have felt the same within. For me, 'good' would be, my state of mind, clarity, calm and composure, and even answered prayers. Immediate noticeable benefits for all who chant would be, a more rythmic respiration, reduction of heart beat rate, and so on. And there are innumerable health benefits too, just that my concern is the spiritual aspect to chanting. And being the skeptic that I am, I know that this sure ain't a case of the placebo effect. 

    

            I am not anti visiting temples or idol worship, but I used to consider the same as almost blasphemy, for me, God is omnipresent, so staring at a blank wall or at the idol is one and the same. I still more or less think the same, the difference being, earlier I was anti-idol worship. And by 'idol' it could be a painting too, or any visible form that you believe to be God. For instance, the Nichiren Buddhists, chant twice a day in front of the Gohonzon. From the books I have read, the Gohonzon is the manifestation of the latent state of Buddhahood in all of us, or of the Mystic Law. And chanting with the Gohonzon right in front of you, everyday, activates this potent state in us. Similarly, for a devout follower of say, Goddess Durga, maybe, having her idol in front of him or her while he sends out fervent prayers to Her. 

                As for fasting, I am yet to research the link between fasting and benefits. No one can say that they fast entirely out of 'devotion to God' and no interest in self-benefit because if you are fasting to convey to God that he is of value in your life, you do want to convey it in the first place because according to you it would please God or whoever you believe in, to know that. For me, you can't be 'fasting' if you are gorging away on any food, all day- be it fruits, or something else. Secondly, someone like Buddha attained knowledge about the Mystic Law only once he stopped fasting- he was emaciated because of continuous fasting, and realised at that juncture, that if he wants meditating to yield results, he needs to stop fasting. Then again. fasting in itself has multiple definitions in the many religions all over the world. I know fasting works for people, it's just that finding the link is important, instead of blindly following rituals because you think, but don't know for sure how it will benefit you. A questioning mind is an enlightened mind, I say. Be selfish, but smartly so.

Delhi, It's Not Time to Boast; Yet.

                                 So, the Aadhar card acknowledges transgenders as citizens of this country, with 1600- odd UID Cards having been issued recently in Delhi to the minority community. This brings an emphasis on. .  equality? This word was etched is the Constitution decades back but every few years, the Govt. seems to reach a higher moment of epiphany when they think they have finally cracked the meaning of the very word 'equality'. Why else do members of the transgender community not have prerequisites for applying for the UID Card, like ration cards, passports and so on? Because they have felt apprehensive to go procure the same all these years. Some officials go on to ask for documents that state that they are transgender.

                                 The question is, what percentage of the actual population of the community has applied for the UID Card, and how many of them shall actually receive the same someday. But let's not just talk about the Govt.'s slumber wrt realizing what equality implies. Right since we've been kids, we know the notions about them that have floated in the form of furtive glances and cynical whispers. The superstition, cynicism ceases to die. On one hand we condemn the death of the anti-superstition activist Dr. Dabholkar, on the other hand we continue to harbour and internalize notions from birth to death. Too soon for a self pat on the back, no?

When Hackeratti Hit Me :/

So I'm one of the latest recent victims of the mulling crowd of the hackeratti gang out there. Just when I thought these five-six years of my virtual existence 'Oh my account would never get hacked. Why would someone ever hack my account?' as I'd recline in my chair complacently, after setting the same password for the n number of accounts that I created on multiple sites, for my convenience, thinking that hacking is majorly an act of vengeance. But this 'convenience' had to turn into a reprieve eventually, and it did. Yesterday, as my virtual world came crashing down (quite literally :P), I realized I was the foolish one. To think hackers really choose their targets after much thought and pondering. If they really did that, why would they ever resort to hacking someone's account in the first place? For a hacker may be respected amongst his friends, but is hacking a rational act?


                    Thankfully, my Facebook account got restored thanks to my friend's prompt help. Though while he was trying to log in and secure my account, two others were simultaneously trying to access my account. I'd just started heaving a long sigh of relief when my phone beeped with the alarm error message that my Gmail ain't getting logged in. I tried 5 times via my phone. Once I was home, I realized that in frustration at the fact that the guy failed to hack my Facebook account while nearly succeeding at it, he decided to attack my Gmail. And I had inadvertently made his task easier, because I had the same password for Facebook, Gmail, Yahoo, bookmyshow, and what not. Thankfully, Mr. Hacker did not venture to hack all my other accounts. Guess he thought he'd proven his cyber virility by hacking my Gmail. Sigh. When doing such measly things on the virtual world makes you proud is the day one should jump to death. And yes, till yesterday evening, I was least concerned with issues like hacking and cyber-crime, but here I am, hoping I miraculously get to know the brainchild behind this hacking spree operation so I can hack him to death in real. Okay, that's just me being dramatic. Point being, if you're one of those lazy-asses like me, go change your passwords pronto! Though I wonder if in today's times, anyone would take a risk like that anymore. 



            But guess what the funniest thing is? My home's wi-fi connection has been aptly named 'Hack It If You Can' by me. I think it's time to change it, lest it sparks off a crazy rush in some hacker-neighbour to hack my wi-fi next.  :P Then, I won't even be able to vent my anger via the internet. :D

A LETTER TO GOD

When you're down in the dumps,
And people tell you,
'Others have problems too, you're not the only one.' 
Does it reduce your problem's gravity?

When people refuse flat on my face for something,
[the ones we have expectations from]
Oughn't I feel vengeful?
Can I be blamed for it?

Pity and sympathy are bad. They make a person feel
Even worse about oneself.
Why can't the 'wellwishers' try & help the person instead? 
In order to express their concern better? 

They talk of karma on one hand, sufferings for past sins. 
A new life/birth is a new beginning. 
Then why suffer for prior mistakes?
Shouldn't bygones be bygones?

When it's a bad phase going on endlessly,
Does having faith really matter?
Because what has to happen, will happen. 
Or do you make gradations in your 'destiny',  
Depending on whether we have faith?

If circumstances make me do something
Unexpected of me,
Would I no longer remain the nice person I was for you once?

Yes if you have created the world, and you have planned everything,
Then why didn't you make things all hunky-dory here;
Such that we all would be happy, and so would you?
Sounded too mundane to you, eh?

Wherefrom does the scope of redemption come
If a person turns agnostic after a spate of hardships?
Is your 'Plan' for us so grand that we can never ever decipher it?
Does it still leave us on friendly terms?
Does it not distance me from you?


Wouldn't it be wonderful if you could just turn up,
In front of someone who really needed a pat on the back from you,
In order to move on in life?

Preoccupations with one's problems leaves one with no scope for 
Attaining a 'higher perspective' about life.
So then where do forbearance and contentment come from in troubled times?

P.S. I wrote this around two years back, this ain't verse nor prose strictly, it's just a bunch of questions I'd penned down over a period of time. Questions we all end up asking while drifting through the vicissitudes of life. These questions should Never turn into a state of mind. As for me I'm an eternal optimist. =D 
a

Pinning Life Down

An unending journey of growth it is, they say.
From kindergarten to crutches, years swept away.
Alphabets become scoldings.
Don't put your hand near the candle-flame, they say.

When this journey becomes a perpetual run away from life itself,
Because you're trying to fit in all the while,
Trying to be a good son, a good student, father, worker.
Does that suffice for you?

You create your own destiny, they say.
Is that big house you built the manifestation of that?
Have goals, rules, benchmarks taken over feelings and Life itself?
Is this evolution a devolution in disguise?

The realm of the quotidian is a trap.
You'll start living the day you'll remember
There was nothing to break free from or to abide by
Rubbing your eyes as you welcome the sunlight and love
Into your life blinding, yet
Brimming with the essence of Life.

The Burden of Hope

The promise of Fate lands in your sight.
You exult, with eyes shut tight,
Arms stretched out to the sky.
Trying to grasp the future in this present moment

The veil of time binds, yet separates
The present and the anticipated future event
That you ardently await.
And you thought Knowledge always gave you strength?

In the midst of planning your life all over again,              [Some think they can.]
When memories strike, nightmares jolt you;
Where do you exist?
In the past, present, Or the cusp of perpetual pain?

We're Friends Again. =)

Well, I didn't decide to write about this here thinking 'Oh this will be a terrific blog post, so let's do it!' This is about what I was like, what I did, a couple of years back in school.

I excelled at academics till I was in class IV or so, till which I had observed that many of the friends I had, were there because I was one of the toppers. Some would draw cards for me on my birthday. As my grades started to drop from class IV on, I lost those 'friends' of mine. I lost confidence too, and then the friends I made in V, VI, VII weren't exactly 'friendly' either, I was generally made fun of, one day a friend who was my partner too in class, said to me that she would ask our class teacher, Ma'am Patsy to find her a new class partner, because her mother had said to her that 'If you mingle with students who're poor at studies, you'll become like them.' I was aghast, however I took that with a pinch of salt. This was in class V.


                 I found a great friend in Insha, in class VII, on most days both of us would scuttle off to some new spot in the school and discuss teachers and laugh about ten things. She didn't make it to class VIII, whereas mine was a case of conditional promotion. When the session commenced after the results, I don't know what came over me, I started avoiding Insha during recess every day, sticking instead to the 'group' that I had. I wasn't too happy about this bunch of buddies I had either, since I knew I couldn't trust them, that they secretly mocked at me, but having a group to boast of gave me some ridiculous assurance at that point of time. She didn't say anything, we never talked after that. But, I never had the guts to look into her eyes after that first day I moved past her during recess.

                                I always planned to write her an apology letter, till we were in school. Even at those times, I'd not have enough courage to own up and admit that I had purposely ignored her years back. I'd keep thinking I'll write something like, 'Another friend spread some rumours about you and I ended up believing her, you know!' Out of nowhere, yesterday, while recollecting my days at school, thinking about how I didn't really have much of a personality till I was in class XI, considering my focus was on making friends [didn't think so much about good and not genuine friends then, didn't really have a choice.], I ended up remembering Insha again. About how she was this one friend I could confide in always. One friend I could bank on. And I'd let her down. That she said not a word made me feel doubly ashamed. I realised I couldn't undo that one thing anyway, and the least I could do was to write her an apology, this time stating the truth, why I did it. Funny how I always wanted a good friend, in school, and when I had one, I didn't respect our friendship, I lost her. Today, I sent her an apology, and I feel lighter.


                                          Today, I am glad I am no longer a shadow who'll cower under another's presence, and be moulded by his influence. I make friends, I respect them, make sure Others do, I don't think twice before glaring at someone who's too keen on giving my friend a hard time. This is a confession to myself because I finally decided to tell her the truth, to accept it myself too- what led me to avoid her way back in school. The difference between then and now is, that in school, I had very few genuine friends [before Std XI], though I wanted one badly; today I have many, genuine, frank, concerned friends, and I am grateful that they are a part of my life. Whether it's a pen friend I talk to occasionally, or the girl who's on my speed dial list, my friends are for eternity, a lifetime is too short a span to spend with such wonderful persons. I'll end by saying, if at all you've let a friend down at some point, make it up to them TODAY, it's Never 'too late' to win a friend back, or atleast let them know what you meant/mean to them. Who knows, somewhere in their heart, they might let out a profound sigh, and a nostalgic smile. =)

30th August:

P.S. I am friends with Insha again! Thank God and thank you for reading. :D

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. 

The Street Lamp

I see cars whiz past. 
Children, men, old persons walk by.

I stand by through steely winter dawns, 
Bustling summer sunsets 
Autumn nights and chirpy spring noons.

While a chink of light 
Sneaks out through the curtains
From that building across the street, furtively 
As if reaching out to me. 

I bow down before the sun in the day.
But what good is a tree in winters?
While the moon and I sway in a duet 

And during a downpour, I meet myself 

In a puddle down there. 

Looking Forward to the Past

Death lies not in the culmination. It exists in
The approaching absence and the reminiscence.
A looming presence that lives 
When you're born; lives on once you shut your eyes to eternal sleep. 

They say, death can be Beautiful.
But do you Ever look forward to it,
As you reach higher up the ladder of corporeal success,
As you lean further towards that walking stick for a reprieve?

Is is for the end we all prepare?
(Why) Do we look for a gain even in our moment of death?
So much for that moment which in itself
Is transient and eternal at the same time.

Is it strange we sit back in eager anticipation of
Things uncertain always, in oblivion to the one fact of our lives? 
Is death a cruel thing [in itself]?
What makes someone embrace it, then? 
For all we know, we experience a death before we enter this realm, this world. 
Maybe, we squirm at our slated arrival here.

What do we know of the end, or what the end is in the first place? 
Let's not term death invincible and a monster already.
Why then do euthanasia and death sentences exist?

Etchings of Chaos

Over cupfuls and clinking of glasses,
High fives and conversational glances,
Buds a relation, of acquaintances.
People get to know people.

Some you couldn't get bored of,
Others, you wouldn't care to entertain.
While a few, make no difference to you.
You know them all, they do too.

Or so you think.

When it's no longer gossip that's doing the talking.
Friendships turn sour over
Things you wouldn't even want to start comprehending.
When Desdemona slips into Othello's lines effortlessly.

Exchange lives and you'll know.
Sexuality's a spectrum,
Not a grey black or an off-white.
So is 'morality' and every other.

Don't talk about peace or violence.
Merge harmony and chaos and stand still, to see.
'Your life' and 'my life' are hollow constructs.
Then you start to fall, you're back on your feet,
Trying to see the silence.

Thinking, funny you didn't hold onto yourself
Because you could have.
Or so you think.

A Threshold or an Impasse.

When you're midway through,
And there's a tug of war going on
Between the future and the past.
The latter attempting to lull you into mundane melancholy.
While the future makes you wonder,
If it is meant to be looked forward to,
Or to be shirked away from?

Day dreaming about the joys you look forward to,
To waking up at night with vestiges of ancient miseries.
Like living two lives concomitantly.
Seeing the present mould itself every instant
In front of your eyes.
As your mind acknowledges the burden of history
Wading in and out of consciousness.