Their Little Superstar.

Rocking the cradle to lay asleep
The little superstar of her life,
Dreaming his future through her eyes
And sharing those dreams with her husband beside.

Caught up with the thoughts for the small world
They had built for themselves which had expanded
As they welcome the little one into their life,
With tears of happiness and a feeling of being complete.

The superstar is still holding onto his dad’s finger
With no mood to let go, though his sparkling eyes are tired,
Preparing to drift into sleep as the cradle is slowly rocked
While the couple sit along hand in hand and smile.

They smile for being blessed with the most beautiful gift of love,
They smile because they know this is what they had wished for,
They smile as they promise to be the best parents
By being the friend, philosopher and guide to their little superstar.

The Missing Traveler.

“Sound of a Splash”;

The redness of his eyes traumatised the sparkling water, blemishing the blue sky and placing the redness in the very heart of the ocean. It was the day when she, the ocean, had lost someone really special; it ought to be as he remained her only companion who had stayed for this long.

The sea lay dead as the breeze had grew fond of the silence which reverberated from the desert ashore.  In midst of these conditions of turmoil, there lay a man marooned all alone on this island of doom. Along the shore, we find the ruins of the possible ship which might have brought the gentleman to this place.  Years lay testimony to the plight of this unlucky traveller whose fate remain blemished even under the ever bright sun.

The diary which the marooned traveller adored like his companion was filled with the life moments which he could never forget. The life which he once had, which he once hated and which he could never get back, all engrained into the diary to the extent that there was no space left to write. As the pages were rolled back, the time played back these moments, reliving them and making the hope to survive for a while longer.

The pages offered a lot which was too hard to digest, most importantly the very reason he got himself landed in this barren island. It was neither out of compelling circumstances nor owing to poor luck, but it was he who decided to part away. However for him, it was from the world which quenched every inch of his happiness away from him, while he like the others neglected the part before, the one which he lived since the day he knew how to breathe. It was the same part which made him realize what happiness really was and also which made him all desperate when he couldn’t find it again.

The stark irony was that in every page he mentioned about the people from the same world which he despised so much. All were attached with different emotions, some of love, some of anger, some of betrayal but the single most important factor which summarized everything was how much he missed the world he had left behind. It was evident with the number of trials and methods he had tried to use to rebuild his boat, but to no avail…

With the blood mystifying into the ever expanding ocean, there swims a new boat to the coast carrying a survivor with it.

Is it a story in which I am the narrator or is it me who is looking into the possible path which I had accidentally gotten into.

I have two different endings to this, especially in respect to the grade of darkness involved and the consequences which lay ahead.

Ending 1:

Hope is a beautiful thing which one needs to adore and be a friend of because we might never know when this beautiful thing will find its way back to reignite us.

Boat had a crew from the distant world, but with members who were still close to person marooned. This time I was lucky as my days weren’t numbered anymore like the person in the diaries pages was; I had to thank him, the one who left behind this diary of his which was responsible for me being alive and hopeful.

It had been over three years since the Cessna plane I was travelling had crashed. I had an assignment which was due, and which made me take flight though weather conditions weren’t too kind for flying. I still remember that day when I bid my family goodbye, cutting short our long due vacation, to complete my assignment on time.

As the crew escorts me back to the ship, my eyes transfix on the diary which I wantedly leave behind, so that it becomes the light for someone else’s heart when the darkness pervades over one’s mind in that barren island. I leave behind the legacy of the man, who accepted doom which enlightened the rest.

Ending 2:

Am I the story or am I just lost?

As the body sinks in water, as the blood diffuses along the water, the mind swings back to the present. Making me wonder, was there really an island where I was marooned into. But the tubes attached to the nerves on my hand, along with a machine which peeped with every beat of my heart made me understand the difference.

As I motion my eyes wide open, I see a hustle in the eyes of nurse sitting across with an apple in her hand. Within seconds, there was huge rush around, making me recognize the world I long forgot. Behind all this commotion which surrounded me, I failed to notice a patient newly admitted who has been placed along in the very room I had been laid to rest for over three years.

It had been just over an hour since I had realized that my long held reality was a mere hallucination, and all the long held fears which I had kept close in the diary of my mind had just started to flow right back at me. This only made me relive those moments, even the one which had the reason for my present state.

The very reason which made me think again and which made me finally choose.

Am I just a story or Am I truly lost? With the blood mystifying into the ever expanding ocean, there swims a new boat to the coast carrying a survivor with it. Though the boat was new, but the survivor was old; He knew the ocean and the ocean knew him.

Taj Mahal

Eyes fly towards the window of distant past,
The shutters grace some rest from the early winter
As I wait down below for the dawn to arrive.

Those rays of hope and joy, enlivening the place
I had built for my queen to stay by,
Though her stay was short but her aura still remains through these rays.

Marbles doesn’t provide me the peace
Which they are actually meant for,
But it provides me the shine reminding me the sun staring down below.

I feel my queen is looking back at me and smiling
Through the eyes of the sun; I finally find my solace,
So I wait down below for the dawn to arrive and the shutters to rise,
And enliven me to relive the life with you the way it should be.

College Memories – 1

NIT Trichy, my beloved Alma matter where I had spent my four blissful years, which has contributed significantly to who I am today. It’s not about the engineering degree which I had enrolled into and cleared out of, but it’s something more than just that.

Different cultures interfacing for the first time and thus dispelling the earlier notions or prejudices one had carried from their families and previous surroundings. But this post of mine is not related to these cultures while it is towards those places in our campus which make these cultures come close.

The first year hostels which were close to fifty years old though refurnished and remodelled with time, did share the heritage with us which comprised of many batches which had passed through. The first experience far away from home is not always that pleasant, but the experience does get milder as we make our first friends in the campus. With the free air flowing through our minds and hearts, apart from the wardens sense of humour to impose rules which are framed to be constantly broken, though the acts remain mild in demeanour.

Food remains an essentiality no matter what and the solution for the ones who hate the hostel mess lies with the famous Road side Dhabas. That has provided the much needed solace for the non-vegetarians and even a few veggies for years now. The names though weird but food remained pleasant and within budget, with the names of Bamboos, Cholas, Selvam, Sam Fox and few upcoming ones close to the college spreading like wild fire as we move across the years, but this was the scenario as in 2013. There might surely be a few new surprises in this one year or so.

Presently thinking about the then diet, I manage to keep a thought alive that how was that possible to take in so much of food without any concern for the hygiene itself. Then I find an answer in the basics of dining together, that is when you dine with 6-7 people around ,which could go on to the count of over 20 during the birthday treats and all, then the conversations act as a self-stabilizer and helps digest the excess away.

Seriousness in academics follows a cosine curve, while the seriousness in extra-curriculars’ and movies takes the form of ever rising exponential curve. As we pass through our first year, the beauty of the college fests swipes you off your feet and the enjoyment just increases. It manifolds when your best buds are the ones you are working with. Fest over fest, work over work, life only grows and grows.

But the real happiness and the real satisfaction arise when you are back at your hostel, and you never ever feel alone no matter what situation you are into. The corridor becomes a playing ground, the TV room becomes a cheering ground when India plays while a battle ground when IPL or EPL starts to play. The chatter doesn’t stop and the lights are kept on even when almost all parts of the country are far asleep. Sense of calm and far less tension prevails there, allowing the best of the minds to experiment their dreams and the rest like us to at least chatter & enjoy in happiness.

These were only a part of the much cherished memories of college life, and as the time passes by, I find myself encountering one memory over the other. Every time they leave me with a smile bigger than the one before, may be as time moves ahead we only miss the college a lot more.

Marriage

“Caressing my hair
By running down your fingers
Glancing at my lips
With a tease making me fall in slumber.

Levers have gone high
But the weather seems to be all dry
In the bitter cold of the passing winter
We find our passion leaving us with a long cry.”

Married for so long that the compassion is all gone,
Like the two separate souls sleeping together
Not to unite but to hold on for a day more,
To revere the agreement while disfavour the emotion.

Duties are divided to remain far from overlap,
The memories are blurred within the morning fog
And with the drizzle seeping into the garden
It not only wets the green around, but also the life the couple lived.

Marriage was conceived as an epitome of love
But the magic had passed away from their hands,
They had reduced themselves to mere spectators
Enjoying the movie of their memories running on a loop.

The hair had gone grey which flies away with the air
As they make way through the traffic in their new sedan,
While the signal which breaks their flow introduces them
To the couple on a bike and a sign board “Just Married”

Teasing her way through the biker, the lady
Falls back on her guy with a sense of comfort,
Which the guy returns with a glance to hold him tighter.
The crowd in grey, slide back in time to relieve some of their own

There is a small realisation from the couple in the sedan,
And a small look into the growing difference between them
The woman tries to incite a bit of closeness with her man
By placing her hand over the gear which already had a hand more.

Reliving the moments of the past by bringing a tinge of smile
on their misted faces, trying to recognise the passion long gone
By narrating the poem which he had written for the girl in the lady in the time foregone;
gestures of smile follow as the man reads like the boy he once was

“Caressing my hair
By running down your fingers
Glancing at my lips
With a tease making me fall in slumber.

Levers have gone high
But the weathers seems to be all dry
In the bitter cold of the passing winter
We find our passion uniting us with a long sigh.”

The Unfinished Story.

Dug deep inside the sweater with the muffler tied across, and the wind blowing through the ears which have already gone cold beyond sensation. The weather has its say while we beg to differ, to avoid the further numbness and the further frail. Below all these physical adversities, I dwell across the thought which has grown long, owing to its often recurrence…

New Delhi , 21st December 2013

Sleep has been coming all natural and all the more long, defying the very needs by making one more lax than ever. It has been almost six months since I graduated, but yes thinking about college life, especially the hostel part do bring back the memories which make us both happy and sad. Happy because we relive those moments but sad because we cannot live them in reality again. That winter night, the winter solstice one, which had started of all early, did leave me an experience that made me never forget it, no matter what.  Continue reading The Unfinished Story.