Jun 4, 2009

The Storm: Part One


The coffee had gone cold. Again. Sam put down his pen beside his notebook. He rubbed his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair. This was harder than he had had expected.

He had been sitting in the coffee house for the past three hours racking his brain but not one brilliant brainwave had hit him. In the meantime, he had ordered three cups of coffee, all of which had gone cold. His neck now ached. He needed a walk.

He packed his bag, paid the bill and left the coffee house.

Outside the night was cold. He buttoned up his jacket and started strolling towards the park. Very few people were out tonight. The reason was quite obvious. Earlier in the evening, a cyclone warning had been issued. The newsreader had said that this would be the worst that the city had ever experienced since the last decade.

The wind was already chilly but hadn't quite gained the predicted speed. Sam had calculated that it wouldn't be until midnight that the cyclone would actually arrive. Actually, it was rather hope than calculation. And it was still nine o'clock. So he still had three hours all to himself.

Sam worked as a freelance writer for one of the city newspapers as a part time job alongwith being a student in the City College. He was majoring in Arts. Hence writing came naturally to him. But he didn't like to write in his apartment. He found it more like a prison he had to sleep in every night. He always tried his best to stay as much time as possible away from his apartment.

The college library was open till five o'clock in the evening. So he spent most of his after college hours studying or writing in the college library. After the library closed he would hang out in the coffeehouse opposite his apartment building till ten o'clock when he returned.

Everyday it was the same routine.

He was still in his first year and, coming from a middle class family, the moment he landed, he knew he had to find a job. The college administration was a great help. They arranged for him a freelance writing job for a small newspaper. The pay wasn't so good but it was enough for him to rent a small apartment in the rundown portion of the city.

At first, the job wasn't quite demanding and he found it easy to come up with good stories. The main reason was that he had come from a small town and the new city was quite intriguing to him, finding something new to tell everyday. The editor was also quite impressed by his style and his choice of topics. "You're meant for bigger things, my lad," the editor had said. "Someday you will be quite a good reporter. And I hope that you would be working for our newspaper then."

His dream run had gone on for quite a while till he got stuck in a rut. The city didn't impress him anymore. Everything seemed so morbid now. So lame. The city had gone colorless for him now. He tried his best but hadn't been able to come up with anything impressive for the last few weeks. The editor had asked him to take a week off. "Son, you've been working too hard. Take some rest. You'll find your touch again soon I'm sure." Sam knew the editor was just trying to be nice. He had to come up with something marvelous within two weeks. Only two days were left and nothing good still seemed to be on its way.

Except for the storm.


Next: Part Two

May 31, 2009

Sweet Dreams


The tired city,
The glittering skies,
I lay outstretched,
Above the heights,
I breathe in slow,
And close my eyes,
I feel the night,
And lullabies,
I open my heart,
And sacrifice,
My sweet dreams,
And my lonely sighs,
All my soul,
And all inside,
I softly smile,
And begin to rise,
Closer to heaven,
I begin to rise.
The Earth deafens,
In its own cries,
And I look down,
In wild surprise,
I extend a hand,
And receive no touch,
I try so hard,
I try so much,
They tug me now,
I begin to lurch,
I fall and fall,
Towards an endless curse.

I lay outstretched,
And close my eyes,
And I smile again,
At my own demise.


Picture - Cover of album Flyleaf by Flyleaf

Apr 21, 2009

End of it all



A white page, an open heart;
with a horrible end I start;
to rebuild what was left;
what the storm had destroyed;
I pick myself up above the underflow;
and question why I was broken so;
I have no answer, and I don't care;
its over, its time for a new prayer;
I wait with patience and hope;
wait for a support to grope;
and I find a new meaning in life;
a new reason to survive;
a reason to help those who fell;
and have the same old story to tell.

The End

Jan 27, 2009

The Child Within


I look up and stare
Stars blink down at me from the open sky
The breeze smelling of the fresh night
Whispers into my ear in silence
What is that you care for?
What do you dream?

I close my eyes and sigh
I don't know, I say
I just want to feel free
Wherever I've been
There has been chains
I was told its normal, its natural
But I feel in my heart
I know in my heart
That it isn't so
Because when I come to you
You set me free
And this feels natural
I don't want to stay here
Nor do I want to run away
I am not sure what I want

I dream of a place
A far-off place
Where people are free
The sky is limitless
The breeze is liberating
The days are gay
The nights are cool
Laughter fills the pleasant air
Dreams are without bounds
And people live only on one emotion
Love
And I want to be a part of that world
I want to escape
But I don't want to run away
I want to fly away

Aug 12, 2008

Pause

My life is changing radically. So much to tell, so much to express. But I'll wait till order returns and I can think more clearly. I promise I'll again start posting when I figure out where my life is headed. Thank you all for your understanding and support.

Jun 29, 2008

Last Coffee


The streetlights whizzed past as I stared listlessly out of the window. Orko was driving as usual as Rohan gave him company in the front seat. Orko hated to drive sitting alone in the front row. He said that he felt like a chauffeur!

“So where are we headed?” asked Orko. I glanced at the rearview mirror which was our only way of having eye-contact while he was driving.

I shrugged, “I don’t know.”

“Let’s go somewhere to eat,” proposed Rohan popping the earphones of his i-pod from his ears. “I’m hungry.”

“You haven’t had your breakfast or lunch, have you?” I asked Rohan coldly. It was a daily routine of Rohan to skip breakfast after getting up at noon, and have second thoughts about lunch a few hours later. As a result he frequently suffered from stomach cramps.

“I woke up late and …,” Rohan started repeating his old hackneyed story.

“Yeah, and so you skipped lunch,” I finished for him with a sigh.

“I had Maggi,” Rohan tried to defend himself.

“Splendid!” Orko congratulated Rohan.

Rohan gave him a sarcastic smile.

“Ok, then let’s grab a bite,” I suggested.

“Sounds good to me,” replied Rohan. “Let’s take something from Monginis and head for…uhh…the classroom.” Rang De Basanti had really influenced us!


It wasn’t really a classroom. Actually it wasn’t even a school. It was just a college building (that’s what we had been able to make out of the building). Located behind the township in between huge fields it looked majestic. Leaning against the parked car we looked up at it, impressed. It towered over the neighbouring trees; its wide stairs seemed to beckon us to our college lives we were soon to enter; its tall walls and metal gate seemed to block out its modernism from the rustic surroundings.

“Man, it’s so…so…,” Rohan desperately tried to find an adjective.

“Awesome?” I recommended.

“Yes, exactly.”

We had been there many times but we never stopped getting amazed. As we munched away at our chicken sandwiches, a crisp wind blew from the field making the trees rustle to its tune.

“Man, it’s beautiful,” I added after a long silence taking in a deep breath.

“Yeah. I got to pee,” Orko said looking fervently around dusting his hands after finishing his sandwich.

I winced as Rohan kept on enjoying his sandwich blissfully. And Orko went on to search for the perfect place. He finally decided to do it in front of a small hut which was once a small tea-shop.


It just started to rain as we entered Café Coffee Day. Rohan surveyed the coffee house intently until he found the perfect place. Two couches by the huge glass wall which looked out at the street. Rohan and Orko sat at one couch as I sat on the opposite couch. Orko and I offered a Café Frappe each and Rohan decided to go for a Black Coffee. Actually Rohan had grown a strong distaste for Café Frappe after an unpleasant incident involving the drink and Rohan’s jeans.

The street outside glistened in the streetlights like a polished mirror as cars plied slowly. The pattering of rain was pleasing to the ear. Very few people were walking around not only because it was raining but also because it was pretty late at night. Our parents were used to us hanging around late at night. At first they had shown irritation but our common gift of persuasion had finally made them yield.

“So you are finally going to that university in Chennai?” Rohan asked sipping his hot coffee.

“I don’t know,” I shrugged. “Its counseling is coming up. Then only I can know. And what about you?”

Rohan smiled, “I thought I would stay in Kolkata. I’m not a terrorist like you.”

I laughed. Orko as usual went on to produce his famous hysterical laughter. Nearly everyone in the coffee house turned to look at us. But we were used to that. We ignored.

“Excuse me,” I called out to a waiter. “Can you give me a napkin?”

The waiter looked at me curiously for sometime before going away. After a while he came back and presented me what I asked for and said politely, “Here is your tissue paper.

I gave him a cold stare as he smiled wryly at me and left. I turned around to see Rohan and Orko smiling.

“So where have you finally decided to go?” asked Rohan this time addressing Orko.

“I told you about Canada, didn’t I? Well I finally got my passport and have decided to go there,” Orko gave a triumphant smile.

Now I know I should have been happy for Orko. But somehow I felt otherwise. Rohan just stared at him disbelievingly. He leaned back on the couch thinking of God knows what.

“Good. Good for you,” I was finally able to say.

Rohan kept quiet. Orko sensed the tension and went back to his Café Frappe straw.

After a long time, Rohan finally spoke. “Are you sure? I mean it is cold out there.”

Orko and I both laughed incredulously at the joke. Rohan also smiled, though it looked unwilling.

“No, I mean it is damn cold there. You might end up freezing your balls!”

“Come on. He has enough fat to protect him,” I chipped in.

Orko looked offended but let me go.

“And…and you’ll only get frozen fish there,” Rohan tried to protest, mockingly.

We smiled at him.

“Come on, man,” Rohan went on. “What is the only way we can keep in contact? Chatting? Chatting is so damn superficial. What I mean to say is that having coffee in person is more fulfilling than chatting. This is a totally different feeling. You know what I mean?”

“Don’t get so upset,” Orko said. “We can still call up each other.”

“Yeah, but it won’t be like it is now. We…we…you know...I…I don’t know.”

I just listened to the conversation impassively. My mind had already gone for a spin. I had it all planned out. Orko had told us that he would be trying hard to stay in Kolkata. So I had planned to come from Chennai every holiday that I got. Then we could hang out together as usual. But it wasn’t to be. Nothing seemed usual anymore.

The conversation had ended by the time my reverie was over. Rohan had composed himself. The waiter had come to the table to take away our glasses and to place the bill in its leather cover on the table. I thought for a moment of a way to reduce the tension. The tissue paper was still right in front of me. The waiter had intentionally not picked it. So I took it and placed it in the bill’s cover along with the money. This was enough to bring a grin to everyone’s faces.


“Let’s discuss the pros and cons of Orko going to Canada,” Rohan started the conversation again.

“Cut it out man,” Orko protested as he slowly maneuvered the car expertly round wet corners.

“No, no, let’s do it. I’ve already given two points.”

“And I’ve one,” I finally spoke.

Orko gave a quick glance at me, a curious smile stuck to his face.

“You are not going to come back,” I said slowly.

Orko’s smile disappeared immediately. Rohan suddenly seemed to be dead still too. Damn it, I thought. We didn’t talk for a while as the rain kept battering away at the windshield.

“But finally my dream is coming true,” I tried to lighten up the mood. “You remember the plan I made about how we could change India? Well, Orko’s going to Canada and he will return a rich man. Rohan’s going to stay in Kolkata. What better place to become a good politician? And I’m going to become a scientist. I hope. Then we can team up and change India!”

But no one smiled.

I tried again. “Okay. Orko’s going in August. So what say we go to Goa for a few days?”

Rohan gave me an impressed look and Orko finally smiled, “That would be great.” Dil Chahta Hain had really influenced us!

Jun 26, 2008

New


Starting afresh was never my wish
But I'll have to let go of everything
With one last painful kiss.

Treasuring those memories forever
Won't be easy, but I will try
To always remember.

Tunes in my head will never fade
And colours will never dull; but still
New memories will be made.

Tugging and pulling at my heart always
Will you always remain even if
You forget all those days.

I'll follow my fate and so will you
But before I start, this I promise,
I'll come back when I'm through.

I'll come back for you
And we'll start anew.
I promise.
I hope.