dust and truck

you ran down on me, and trashed me like the dust underneath the wheels of a truck, and i, i went behind you, gaining an ephemeral momentum, like the same loose dust, mindlessly rushing behind it. nota bene: my eyes saw the dust and imagination created the rest

isn't it ironic?

After a very long time, it's lyrics time! It probably befits as a sequel to my last post. :-) I am not posting the entire lyrics here; instead, I am just quoting the ones that I thought were really the epitome of irony. I mean, if you are trying to explain the meaning of the word 'ironic', you would succeed if you just quote these.

"A traffic jam when you're already late
A no-smoking sign on your cigarette break
It's like ten thousand spoons when all you need is a knife
It's meeting the man of my dreams
And then meeting his beautiful wife
And isn't it ironic...dontcha think"

And, Alanis!! Ahh... she uses just the right intonation to express these ironies. Just amazing!! Absolutely amazing!

isn't it paradoxical?

isn't it paradoxical, that the clock's hands have to go on in circles, for me to move ahead; i have to smelt ore, for iron to be robust; i have to pluck the taut guitar strings to relieve me of my tautness; i have to dichotomize something to identify the beautiful symmetry in it; i have to imprison air, for a balloon to soar high with freedom; i have to bury a seed alive, for a plant to come to life?

words

If you take it for granted that others know how much you appreciate them, they will probably think you take them for granted. Put thanks and appreciation into words.

- anon

i kinda liked this! believe me. words make quite a lot of difference... :-)

Recharge

Three hours is the time that my cell takes to recharge from drain. I am human; I probably take much longer. Well, let me come to the things that matter to me right now and are lingering in my mind.

Like how a small insignificant tiff rushes out all the past trivial tiffs to the forefront, the events in the few hours of a fine and sprightly morning acted on all the similar performances that failed to arouse emotions of any sort earlier.

So, what is it?

An hour-long morning walk and an hour spent in a temple.

It is always a welcome break—a peaceful saunter on a serene Sunday evening, when the families in the locality sink into family welfare activities leaving the streets deserted and without much activity. The oldies sit on the porch munching away the talks sensible to them. The youngsters sit on their cycles, sniggering but very apparent in their act of passing petty comments on a passerby.

The vicinity of the temple is an idyllic setup, with a hum arising from the susurration of the ladies who make basil garlands. There is an occasional rise in the decibel level whenever they beseech the devotees to bestow garlands, off their kiosks, onto the shoulders of the One in the sanctum sanctorum. The chime arising from the direction of the two cows serving the needs of the temple, adds a musical backdrop to the rustic lure. Looking closer at the tenderly looking cows, there is a yellowish orange smear on the forehead that brings divinity. All this makes a perfect stage for a trance.

The temple’s design falls in the design gamut of a typical south Indian temple; it has one main sanctum and multiple sub-sanctums. Typically, the sub-sanctums are would be that of the son’s or the daughter’s or of the people important to the One in the main sanctum.

As I was trying to connect to a Goddess at one of the sub-sanctums, this happened. A little boy who had accompanied his grandfather was enjoying his freedom confined to the temple grounds. He was sauntering in the yards whilst his grandfather reached one of the sub-sanctums. However, in no time the kid traced his grandpa and reached him. The grandpa, immediately, on a serious note and in a mildly threatening voice asked him to pray to the Goddess. The kid went to the locked gates and very endearingly said, “Saamee, saamee!!” that my reverence was distracted by its endearment. I am just wondering from whom or where the child had learnt to emote.

And the tone—it is still resonating in my ears!

The highlight of the temple visits is the time spent on the verandahs of the temple after offering prayers. Ideally, for me, it is the most sacred of the moments spent in the temple–the time spent in revisiting oneself and focusing on the revitalizing the soul. But when you are looking at connecting to the world, you tend to watch people around you and enjoy the things going on.

A kid’s obeisance replicated from its parent—the kid laying down itself as prostrate as its father and checking now and then if its father has risen and if not, ducking back to its original position, another kid nodding the head up and down—an interplay only known to the kid and the mother, a few children riding on the backs of the sculptured elephants and crocodiles positioned by either side of the sanctum, and another kid going far away from its parents and after discovering that it has gone far away, coming back with such happiness and falling into the arms of its parents and a lot more such sweet things happening around.

It is very true that the meaningless murmurings and acts are always sweet to the senses. Even the repeated acts of a kid chasing away all the pigeons that are being fed won’t let me imagine worse things about it. I readily do agree that our tolerance level is very high when it comes to kids because we don’t assume that they are aware of the “rules”.

Block and Bliss

I felt like standing in front of a tub of cold water, for yet another session of the morning ablution, knowing that I will be able to surpass the block and enjoy the bliss, only if I let it run down on myself for the first few times, every time... I sat down to write.

Ensemble

An analogy is poetic; a comparison prosaic. Crush A kid toying with a trick it recently learnt to play Newlywed Couples Fresh toothpaste and a new toothbrush Parents, Kids and Identity Flower that bears fruit Disquiet Wrongly crossed cross-legged posture Sea, Surfers, and Surfboards City Roads, Adults, and Bus Footboard Advice, Acceptance and Results A Good Pen, Willingness to Write and a Beautiful Handwriting Mind and Tempered Mind Sour Curd and Sweet Buttermilk Fate and Premonition A Mortuary van following an Ambulance rushing to the hospital

am grateful to

the contrast-colored space around a literal, the silence that lets me hear the spelt out words, the darkness when i am asleep, the void that engulfs my mind, the discomfort in certain relationships, the coldness in a relationship, the restlessness of my mind and, my shortcomings.

kannathil muthamittal

O! Flower of the heavens,
Why that forlorn look in your eyes?

You are the life’s beginning
and the visible horizon.

You swept like the breeze
and stayed as the breath.

O! Sanguine surge in the soul...

You are my akin as well as my foe,
the flower of love and a thorn in the womb,
the cherished rain and the clouting thunder,
a neonate body as well as an aching death

O! Conqueror of death, conferrer of life...

You are my wealth as well as my wrecked ship,
an enriched epic as well as the error in it,
lent light and the bitter tears at night,
my bountiful sky as well as my broken wings,

And the beloved sorrow that I nurtured.triskaidekaphobia

No. I am not moonstruck. Just thought I shall translate/render the title track of the Maniratnam movie - Kannathil Muthamittal, written by Vairamuthu. The lyrics as you see below is the post in my blog dated 13th of June, 2005.

a peck on the cheek

nenjil jil jil jil jil
kaadhil dhil dhil dhil dhil
kaNNathil muththamittaal nee kaNNathil muththamittaal

oru dheyivam thandha poovae
kaNNil thedal enna thaayae

vazhvu thodangum idam needhaanae...
vaanam mudiyumidam needhaanae
kaatrai poala nee vandhayae swasamaga nee nindrayae
maarbil oorum uyirae...

enadhu sondham nee, yenadhu pagaiyum nee
kadhal malarum nee karuvil muLLum nee
chella mazhaiyum nee, chinna idiyum nee
piRandha udalum nee, piriyum uyirum nee
maraNam meenda jananam nee,

enadhu selvam nee, enadhu vaRumai nee
izhaiththa kavidhai nee, ezhuththu pizhaiyum nee
iraval veLicham nee, iravin kaNNir nee
enadhu vaanam nee, izhandha siRagum nee
naan thooki vaLLartha thuyaram nee
- vairamuthutriskaidekaphobia

Silhouette

It was a rainy dark night. There were heavy dosages of flashes of white light like those thrown on a celebrity involved in a controversy. And the thunders - they started from one end with heavy thumping and ended at the other end in an allayed mode – probably the heavens were witnessing those spiteful moments of the malicious pandava-gaurava dice tussle. But it seemed like the thunders and lightning had taken some inspiration from the mortals. The usual thunder-follows-the-lightning pattern was absent and there were heavy flashes of light but no subsequent thunders. It was as if the thunders were involved in a retort rather than a conversation. The thunders boomed after a relatively longer time.

Vehicles sped on the autobahn and the roads lay bare feigning to be an offspring of the rain and light – they shimmered as wet black silk would. The street lights were the only indicators of the intensity of the downpour. One could easily think that the government had come up with an innovative idea of providing showers, in the night, from the streetlights to alleviate the cruel heat that reigned through the day.

I was in one of those speeding vehicles and was trying to measure the intensity of the showers from the streetlights. The rains denied me the luxury of relaxing after a heavy grueling day at work. It brought in me a sense of urgency, though I couldn’t imagine one single task that would provoke me to react with such urgency. The heart-pounding feeling existed and this unrest did hurt me.

The driver constantly made sure he removed the mist that formed within our closed compartment. The two sticks dutifully alternated from one end to the other clearing off the clouds’ attack on us.

Sitting on the backseat ensured that I see just the silhouettes of the other people traveling with me - the silhouettes that formed as a result of the light beam emerging from the vehicles on the opposite direction. The beam from our vehicle threw light on a car that was experiencing the same package as ours. I could see three heads: one was of the driver’s which I wasn’t quite interested; the other two on the back seat was that of a man’s and a woman’s. They were seated alongside each other so close that there was enough space for two people to sit on either side of the two. Another of those beams heavier than ours from the opposite direction, made me see just the silhouettes of the three now.

I was slowly getting relieved of the sense of urgency that the rains managed to instill in me, a few moments ago. I felt the peace that could have prevailed between the man and the woman. Our vehicle now succeeded in overtaking their car and both the vehicles moved on parallel tracks. I loved this peace that prevailed in me and controlled that instinctive urge to look into their car. The two cars were on a parallel mode long enough for the two to get uneasy but I didn’t quite sense any movement.

By now, a vehicle speeding in the opposite direction made our driver to operate in the safe mode and I again saw just the silhouettes of the two. The lady had rested her head on her man’s shoulder. I imagined peace to endure between the two. The driver of our vehicle flashed his lights prompting the vehicle in front of us to move faster. The flashing of lights showed me the yellow number plate which stood as a proof of a hired vehicle. The driver of our vehicle now zoomed and extended his arm backwards and switched on the vehicle’s private light. He did it with such perfection that he never removed his eye from the road. It was an act that would come in handy – sure he would have taken a long time to practice it. Apparently time had come for the paths to diverge from the public median. He asked for directions to reach the houses of the inmates of the vehicle.

Within these few moments of distraction I lost track of the coupled silhouettes. I frantically searched for peace. Just after few fractions of seconds I saw them traverse on the main median and we on our less important road. I consciously made a check on my state of my mind. Peace did prevail in me, as strong as the bond that I imagined between the two.

life... sleep... and death.

can i live as peacefully as i sleep? can i sleep as peacfully as people die? written a long, long, long time ago - maybe about 5 to 6 years...

Life is beautiful.

My Credits: Meera’s lists

The distant church chimes, the day’s first tune that you hum, the locked hair in between a hook, the pink tint on the clouds after a sunset, the sweet body ache after a tiring workout, trembling of the hand, the subtle hints in a budding relationship, the creak from a sheave, usefulness of an aglet, lint on washed clothes, the non-committal conversation with a long forgotten friend, the innumerous shades of green in plants and trees, the neatly trimmed coconut leaves,

a supple one year old kid, the moments after a sobbing child sleeps on your shoulder, the comfort in hugging a kid, an awe-inspiring nimble five year old child, the naïve questions of an eight year old, the shyness in an adolescent,

the soothing berceuse in an Ilayaraja’s song, the privacy provided by the headphones, the distinct clarity in the guitar tunes, the mellifluent music from a saxophone, the continuity in flute melodies, the divinity attached to a veenai, the tremor produced by the thumping of drums, the impulsive hum of the next song in your favorite play list,

the million questions after an eerie dream, aroma from the first jasmine flower in the garden, the fine early morning dew on a parked vehicle, the reverberations from a speeding bus felt by the foot, water sprinkled on hot tiles,

the crispness of starched cotton, water droplets on an unused dress, the coziness in a thoroughly used cotton saree, the hand that tries to grip the elusive satin, the firm grip of your terrified friend, the solace of a good friend, unkempt hair after a hair wash, the reminiscences arising after finding a long-forgotten written memoirs of a train trip, the dry dead leaf placed in a book that brings to life the memories related to it,

the hum that arises after hitting a half-filled metal container, the lull after placing your hand on the vessel, agility of water, firmness of ice, the thinness of watermelon juice, the thickness of mango milkshake, the quick moving beach sands under your feet, the hardness of the rocks on a hill,

the neatly arranged toes of the foot, a pen that makes your handwriting legible, the graphite that wanes, the decisiveness arising out of just a few eye glances, the rocking of a train, the straining conversations exchanged on a speeding two wheeler, validating a stranger’s lip movement to the song played in the bus, the rubble from a freshly laid tar road that hits your mudguard,

the discreetness in a mason while mixing cement, sand and water, splitting of bricks with his instrument, the pleasure in curing a constructed wall, the scent and the sound arising while curing, the neatly arranged scaffolds of a building, the evenness indicated by the bubble in a spirit-level, the arranging of the bricks while they are unloaded from the truck, the entire act of transferring the bricks stone by stone,

the serenity of early mornings, the hurried breakfast, the briskness in the later hours of a morning, the essential lunch after starvation, the lazy afternoons, the vibrant evenings, the detached dinner, the peaceful sleep.

How does it feel...

when, you see the crisp leaves of a checkbook that bears your name, you just created an excellent piece of writing, you see a pretty lady and... she takes a really long time to walk past you, you lose your ear to a humorous jingle amidst cacophony, you see a date associated with you that stands as a proof of an enduring relationship, you are acknowledged for an extremely brilliant joke, you understand the intricate meaning behind a word that you mindlessly use everyday, you see something very simple in design that captivates you and fills your senses, you set tears in your friends’ eyes with your joke, you used your discretion to avoid yourself getting into a disaster that was threateningly appealing, you kick a small object that you threw in the air, in your first attempt, you realized that you served yourself the right quantum of side dish, you find an answer to the ‘why-me?’ in your life and prevent it from happening to others, you spot something that others are desperately trying to find, after 15 years of schooling, you tend to choose lighter shades for your work, on a Monday, you see a distress-call mail from your friend 13 hours too late, you look forward for the peaceful sleep, sans the nightmare that has been stinging you for days?

memories...

my headgear lies somewhere on top of a stand, unused and covered up with layers of dust - the smaller specks neatly and comfortably juxtaposed, among the bigger blotches...

Making love out of nothing at all, Air Supply.

I am waiting for you, in the backyards of my house. I want it to happen again; the same way as it happened a few nights ago. Ours was not something that was planned. The tryst was destined and was forecasted by the heavens. But like all forecasts and predictions, I was as cynical as I would always be. I paced up and down for a few minutes and looked at the heavens. I had a premonition that you would be coming.

The last time it happened, it was wonderful and sublime. It was a feeling I never had experienced before. Though you didn’t give me a chance to see you last time, you did give me signs of your coming, before you came. I did pick up the signals of your arrival, like how a patient wife spots her beloved’s footsteps, amidst other tramps.

My heart was pounding and my adrenals pumping.

You neither let me speak a word last time, for you were aware that I knew you too well; true, we didn’t have to. Of all the eligible ones thriving on this earth, you chose me. You gave me the simple, priceless pleasure of being the first to experience you. Thanks for the honors. I felt liberated – liberated from the shackles of my own personal restrictions and inhibitions. That day, I did find the reason for my habitual, sleepless explorations into the wee hours. It now seems to me that the nocturnal intrusions of emptiness were designed, just for you.

I feel sad that I experienced this kind of revelation only after nearly two decades of my existence. I don’t feel ashamed on my meek surrender; I only feel happy that the wait made me realize your ruthless power to engulf my senses. I still admire and wonder the way you nonchalantly doped me but still managed to empower me.

You gave wings to my restless, struggling mind. After you had devoured me, I was floating in the air, weightless, leaving behind all the impending worries - the heavy-weight worries and the light-weight silly thoughts of mine. The worries – big, small and silly worries, that fill my senses like those big, small stones and the silt that fill a jar to completion.

Yes. I did feel you. Do you remember? A few people even gave us our due privacy, evacuating their bivouac on the terrace. They just couldn’t continue their slumber after you had come. I only felt gratified when I caught a glimpse of their envying faces after they saw your impositions on me.

Now, here I am waiting for your palpations, in the godforsaken hours of the 24-hour cycle - waiting for you to feel me, waiting to submit myself and to feel the liberation, waiting to float again. Won’t you do it again please, I beseech you, and won’t you reign me, O! Rain?

;-) Ppl!! I knew you were gonna fall for this! This is a perfect example of an anti-climax, isn’t it? Though, I still have my doubts if this is a likeable piece... anyway, hope you nsoi-ed it!!!

I would like to say a few words about the title of this post. This is an excellent song I recently happened to listen to and I just fell for ths song. A few of my blog-friends would know the extent to which I adore this song. A simply amazing song, this one, especially the place where it goes...

"But I don't know how to leave you, and I'll never let you fall;
and I don't know how you do it, making love out of nothing at all
(Making love) out of nothing at all,...."

This song was released as a new entry in their 1983, Greatest Hits collection. Air supply, the Australian soft rock group was originated by Russell Hitchcock and Graham Russell. They became very popular in the late 70s and early 80s.

This is an amazing song and do listen to it, if you can.

And, yeah! thanks for listening for so long!!!

Rambling

Ppl!!! You must listen to this… the moment this happened I thought I should be blogging about this. Here I go.

Life was getting pretty heck-ed up and inertia was setting into me. Things were moving at a pretty fast pace but nothing moved me – I was like the coin in the inertia example in the physics text books. Machine-washed clothes piling up on my bed waiting to be moved into the wardrobe; maybe they would need another washing, if I let them lay there for long enough. All the bills that the shopkeeper gleefully gave me, in exchange for my money, his profit and the commodities, were inside the myriad small covers – the ICICI and ABN Amro bank covers. This along with the ATM slips were eagerly waiting for an entry in my expense tracker, like a child waiting for its share of second helping of the ice cream.

All the Frontline issues that were untouched were also piling up. If it had ears it would have felt so grateful to my mom – for having bought it and mentioning, “Why don’t you read Frontline instead of sitting like this”. My thumb having settled cozily in the narrow groove between the up and down buttons of the remote would not let me budge. The neatly arranged books were all covered with dirt, like those snow clad mountains.

I love cleaning and setting things right, except for I need goads at the right spot to set me into motion. I started with those lovely dirt clad shelf of mine. The last time I arranged this shelf was in early 2004, I guess. I kept piling sheets of papers and notepads on to it. And now, it has grown into being an untamed, recycled forest. One after another I picked them, dusted and kept them on a table that was a few feet away. Segregations and categories kept increasing - like how I add another column in a table in MS Word, after I decide that adding it would enhance the meaning of the table.

So, I have these categories: sheets that have an unused side, sheets that needed shredding – expired bank statements, missives that were never exchanged. Birthday cards, thanks cards, all-the-best cards all on to one side. Sheets that need careful examination – God only will know when I will take these up!!!

I was shuttling between my shelf and the table. I know. By now, if not for the mosaic on the floor, the path that I traced back and forth would have a rut. The rut the bullock cart left on soft earth – the arcane path that I always want to trace.

I spotted a small notepad that endured the weight of the stack all these days. It brought back memories of the train that I took to my hometown from Pune. I flipped through the pages one after another, with my hand tracing the semi-circular path - right to left. I see an address there – the address of a friend that I made in the train. I see her name written in both Hindi and English – it showed that she hadn’t rehearsed the English version well. She was a tenth drop-out and all she new was Hindi and a lot of Marathi. In spite of my unused Hindi, we did exchange a few words and had a good time.

And then, I see this...

“Well! Valentines Day? Phew!!! That’s the ways life is. Even the bags have a place to rest! What an irony? We were supposed to travel in the third class AC compartment. Even a second class should have been a luxury. We landed in the compartment of proles. I think ‘proles’ is an over-statement. Anyway let’s talk about the observations or interesting facts that hooked on to my mind. In fact it is like the-Madhavan-style in Anbe Sivam. But my fall was from a smaller height when compared to his.”

My hand draws another of those semi-circular figures in the air, eagerly waiting to read more from the next few pages. I had a feeling that I might relive a few of those memories again. My mind imagined all those it can, within the few seconds my hand drew the curve. I flipped. And what do I see now? - A circle with four diameters, with a square on one of those thin pies.

What the hell does this mean? It meant nothing. It meant that I apparently got interested in other interesting things that happened in the train that I forgot to write about it. It just meant that I needed a good break from the cleaning sessions. It just meant that I had to play a prank on my brother and have a light hearted laugh, when I saw him go, ‘enna di ithu? michham enga?’ - 'What is this? Where is the rest?’, after he drew a similar geometrical figure in the air. It just meant that I had to re-live a few of those moments of a day in February, 2003. It just meant that I had to leave a rambling incomplete, so that I could blog about it. And it probably meant that my train-friend could have had a few coughs when I thought about her.

And now! I just wonder, ‘how many virtual semi-circles will a library have...?’

Days of ignorance / innocence

Quite unbelievable; but we, I mean our family, didn’t own a TV until I was 10 years old. Thank God for that. I am sure it was a blessing in disguise. Prior to that, I didn’t have much access to TV either. My mommy would probably let us, I mean me and my brother, watch ‘OLiyum Oliyum’ (tamil) – ‘Light and Sound’. I pity the English language for not having been able to express lucidly, the fact that it’s the light and sound that constitutes a song (read movie).

With regard to pronouncing those words: oLiyum oliyum - you should pronounce the 'L' in the first ‘oLiyum’ with the tongue curled inwards and the ventral part of the tongue touching the upper gums. The 'l' in the latter 'oliyum', with the tip of the tongue touching your upper gums.

Coming to the point, the fact being that I was not very interested in watching TV, I hardly bothered to peep into my neighbors’ small screen. Oops!!! I think I am compensating for all those that I missed during my early days – the moment I come back from office, I am all hooked up to the TV.

We got our first TV... don’t ask!! We, I mean my parents, bought a brand called ‘Pyramid’. I mean, the irony being within about 2-3 years of its existence it became extinct!!!! I shouldn’t be saying this because the very first mobile that I got – Siemens A50 – that’s about 1.5 years ago, is now a non-existent model.

So, we got our first TV – a black and white TV with no remote control and with those sturdy knobs. There were these smooth operating knobs to increase the volume, decrease or increase the brightness and contrast. Then the knobs which were hard to turn till a threshold and beyond the threshold it would rest, with a ‘click’, to its next position. The latter was to change channels, apparently.

I am all done with explaining our first TV; so let me come to the crux. So, I the Ms. Innocent, was eagerly waiting for the TV to work. Did it work? Of course, it did. Otherwise my dad would have ripped off the heart from the electrician’s rib cage!! Now, what do I see on the TV? – A commercial of the ‘pyramid’ TV. Your highness now comes up with a brilliant question – ‘Hey!!! How can our TV show an advertisement of our own TV?’

Ok!! Ok!!! I didn’t know the laws of electromagnetism then, please pardon me. I can even hear somebody comment, ‘nee chinna vaiyusilae erunthae eppadi thaana?’ which means, ‘you have been exhibiting such radiance right from that small age, is it?’

Guys, enough is enough!! Now that you have had a good laugh, I consider it responsible of me to explain myself at this juncture. Maybe I thought that if the viewers already had that brand, then why is he wasting the precious time space on air? Well... I know I was too small to think about advertising strategies then, anyway...

And then, there was one another excellent thought of mine which, people in my family had had a good laugh over it. Ok. Let me explain the background first. My mommy works for a central government organization. Saturdays are usually an off for them.

Once upon a time, when I was about 6 – 7 years of age, she said she had to go to work that Saturday also. I asked her ‘why’, for which she said, ‘Our chairman is coming today. So we all will have to be there in the office.’ I was all confused and nonchalantly asked, ‘why do you guys have to be there? It will be a trouble if you guys are there. How will he clean the chairs then?

Well well!! the folks at home, especially my brother and my mom had a good laugh and asked me ‘What?’ I answered, ‘isn’t a chairman of a company, a person who takes care of the chairs, clean them and maintain them?’

I know, i can hear people guffawing now!!! Anyway, It is justification time!!! I would have probably derived the explanation from the fact that a post man delivers the letters or a milkman who supplies milk or a cowboy who tames and rears cows. Isn’t it a logical conclusion? I know you guys would say, ‘fat chance!!!’ anyway...

Quite funny these anecdotes are, I know. But then I couldn’t help sharing my ignorance or innocence, which ever it is - you guys decide. As always altruistically yours wanted you guys to have a nice time at my virtual home – at my expense!! Hope you guys enjoyed it; as much as I did, writing it. Like how every time, when I am in public, I compensate a loud laughter with a tight, pursed-lip grin when I visualize kushboo asking janakaraj for an address with the street name nae-sa-ma-ni-ponni-ya in the movie annamalai. I can hear more laughther this time!! Way to go, people!!

Transmigration

After pacing up and down for a few seconds she sat on the parapet of her terrace. There are a bunch of school boys who were improving their reflexes, reacting to the ball thrown on an unevenly surfaced wall. A few others on the same balcony were, apparently, discussing cricket. There is a guy on a distant terrace showing signs of interest towards this lady sitting on a parapet wall.

The sun was just about beginning its slumber. She stared at the falling sun. It looked as if the tower behind which the sun was hiding was its final resting place. Her soggy red eyes made her blink in a consistent but slower frequency than the inconsistent normalcy. The sun’s brightness seemed to fade with every blink.

She looks at the boys who were ceremoniously engrossed in improvising their fielding skills as if it was the last minute of their exam preparation time. But all she saw was a hazy black patch. She would have wondered myriad times about the ephemeral existence of the black patch every time she looks at anything, immediately after she reaches the core of the sun, battling her way with the sun rays to reach it.

Her stomach was grumbling. But she despises eating food with a lump in her throat.

She thoughtlessly gazes back to her earlier area of focus. By then there is just the tower – the tall, svelte tower; like those long skirted American blond beauties whom she started admiring a few weeks ago. The sky was painted with a faint tinge of pink on a light blue canvas with the intermittently scattered, persistent, ever existent white patches.

She reverts to those boys. Now, she could see their faces clearly. They had retired from their play and were chatting. She thought they should have quit due to the fading natural light. She turns her head further away from the west and traces back to the terrace where she saw the guy, whom she thought was conscious of her existence. He had gone by now.

The music from the walkman had stopped long ago. But she realized it much later – after she reasoned out as to why the boys had quit their practice.

All along her life she worshipped music and had immense faith in it. So much so, even when she had a headache and her friend asks her to anoint, she would amusingly say, ‘I shall listen to the walkman.’

She took the walkman from her trouser pocket, gazed at it for a while, with the same affection a mother would, when she sees her child after two long days. The walkman was revivified. By now, she seemed composed and was in a much better frame of mind. Her eyes had the enough thinness of the watery film to look at things in the right perspective.

She now turned her head towards the western skies and it was crimson red.

Dated: April 02, 2005

Impromptu, Random Thoughts!

The aspiring cyclist who keeps trying to pick up a race with every speeding vehicle, that fast approaches him from the rear and eventually zooms past him in a jiffy,

The commoner who desperately tries to pick up a cue, from the girl who travels in the slow moving bus,

The killer-stare from the meekest of all the pedestrians, who has been offended by the sudden and unexpected barge of a vehicle venturing in the wrong side of the road,

The happy and well dressed mannequins of a posh boutique,

The smartly trimmed coconut leaves and the stickler-pleasing army haircut of the common trees growing in the familiar but arcane distant houses anchored in the street farther from yours,

A car’s rear wind shield, which bears the similar sounding names that are apparently related to the owner of the car,

The confident bitter-better half who signals to the world that the shoulder or the lap of the rider is safer than the strong, designed-with-care steel loop fastened to the two-wheeler by a sturdy and time-tested nut and blot,

The deliberately deglamorised and minimized version of a witty road safety billboard that might have an opposite effect, if read on the move,


The stealth smile and the memoirs that a particular song manages to evoke every time I listen to it,

The beautiful eyes of the dark colored cleaner of the bus that I travel,

The pink lips of my new found friend,

The sands of the beach, enclosed between my cell phone and the cover, that I, the Ms. Immaculate, purposely forget to clean,

Well…, below are the various titles that I came up with, for this post…

Common and not so common facts
Common and not so common facts – common ones listed first
Untitled!
Untitled thoughts!
Impersonal and Personal thoughts…
Random thoughts!
Uncensored Random Thoughts!
Ad-lib, Uncensored Random Thoughts!