Smile: A Monsoon Tale

Once upon a time, there was a girl, whose smile was the only question, I ever wanted to answer.

The only problem was that I didn’t know how to make her smile then.

This was my 20's. I had just started working for this MNC and she was already spoiling the place with her smile. I would often catch her passing by with that cherubic smile on her face. It had that old-world charm that would melt away my strains. I didn’t know then, how to talk to her. I couldn’t even muster courage to say hello. Days went like that, with that smile becoming more of a routine, more like a ritual, a kind of a silent affair, a mellifluous rhapsody with the words missing.

Then one day, God had some strange salad and wanted some fun. He created this event at our office graced by none other than the charm then – Alia Bhatt. The entire floor attended it, and I stood in one corner, gazing at ‘her’ open tresses and their flare, an occasionally when she would turn smiling or laughing. So, while this interactive event with Alia, was on its course, the host asked if someone had something impressive for Alia. When no one took the bait, I reluctantly offered my head to be decapitated. Don’t know if I was sloshed with overdose of ‘her’ charisma but ‘she’ had certainly bewitched me.

I walked up to the dais, presenting the shabby looking me, and Alia quipped, “it better be good”.

“If that special someone flashes before you and you are compelled to smile, consider it one”, was my whip.

I’m not sure which one of my previous writings I recited that day, but all I remember is ‘her’ attention to my words, her smile to the meanings and the applaud at the end. While Alia had her good, I too had my moment. She walked up to me and said those three magical words, “YOU ARE AMAZING!”

That was the first of many. At least God had thought so, but he didn’t work much on me. L

This is my mid-30s.

I have withdrawn from that mundane existence and that typical 9-6 routine. Yeah, it did take that media giant to buy my blogs and make my pockets full in order to take the plunge, I guess by that time God did work some on me.

To settle down in this wettest town was a natural choice. There is something about rains that brings out your romantic best. In summers, the days can be scorching hot, but post lunch, the breeze sets in, the evenings are pleasant and nights cold. Sleeping under a warm quilt is all that makes sleep the most wonderful thing to do. And occasionally there is other warmth between the sheets.

Experiences are that I live for these days. Meet people, go for adventure thrills, visit places around the globe once a while, make memoirs and pen them down. I had thought to anchor a travel show that could take me to beautiful locales at their expense but they couldn’t help put away my shabbiness. Hard luck, I do that on my own now. Sometimes, wet strolls give a whole new chilling experience. You then set down to warm yourself with that special masala ginger tea or the monk who has been keeping people warm for ages.

I was at this talking human library one fine evening. Amongst all my regulars there were couple of new faces and one seemed so familiar, a face that I almost dream each day but this one seemed only a resemblance and possibly I was hallucinating. Ohh these rains! Somehow, I felt like reading ‘that day’ to my audience, yes that day, when she said those three magical words. That day is still fresh like a lily, etched in my memory, and like a record I can read it in its entirety. After the session and with the customary greetings done, while I was putting back my paraphernalia, I heard, “hello there!”. That voice, did I hallucinate again? With that astonishment I raised my head, and I was in for more surprise. How in the world it could be possibly be her? But there she was, and it was indeed her, with that charming smile of hers, bedazzling me like it has always, ever since that first strike.

“There are few words that have got stuck in my heart and mind, and all these years, I have been wondering, if I want to run away from them, or I want more of them. Initially, I tried running away but it didn’t work really, so I thought, lets try to get more of them.

You have been hard to get, almost vanished socially, if it hadn’t been for that last blog of yours, I would still be running amok.

And your voice is more deep, husky and invigorating than the first time I heard it.

God, you won’t believe, what your voice does to me, …… that day something knocked my heart, but I was too afraid to open that door”

And I just sat there, enchanted by that smile, lost in her eyes and bewildered by her beauty.

“I guess I too was afraid to knock again…

You are beautiful!

That smile of yours is the best thing on you!”

It didn’t stir her, it wasn’t the first time she may be hearing it, but there was a certain blush.

“I don’t know who was compelled more, but as you see I’m here”, she said with that effervescent smile of hers.

“I guess I have arrived too”, time for me to blush.

We set out for one of those wet strolls, initially we spoke rather inquired about each other, but slowly the talking stopped. The chill & wet both had their effects on us. Our breaths were deeper, profound, louder and the teeth chattering. I looked at her, the water droplets fell from her eyelid and rolled down her cheek, her lips spread out, I could hear her deep breaths, the ears had turned red & hot, but eyes were wide open. There were no words said but a lot of talking happening at that moment. We had stopped walking to let this intense talk reach its culmination.

I felt she needed some warm breath and I touched those red-hot ears of her, ran my fingers through those wet tresses and held her wet warm neck gently. She let her self-loose, almost submissive but reading my eyes all the time. The other hand held her waist and for the first time in a while, the eyes stopped talking and the breaths became one. Natures own music played and we matched our rhythm to it.

Its in years that I was feeling content and kind of complete. I don’t know if she knew what I had for lunch but I really knew how luscious those lips were and how deep and long she could breathe. While we kept each other warm in our embraces, the sun had decided to call it a day.

To be continued…

The Shine of Love

Going by the current biological affairs on this earth, I might have just crossed half my life. In this half-life I have been immensely loved and I have loved back and sometimes just loved from my end. Love as my beloved friend says “Love! As You and I Know”

Love as I see today is a lot different from the Love I knew back when I was young. The definition, the composition, the complexity, the simplicity, the feel, the relaxation, the exhaustion and the tranquilities, all are so different.

Has Love changed?

Have I changed?

Has Love for me changed?

Love hasn’t changed. I still see it around the same way.

I have definitely changed a lot and at the same time arrogantly rigid in some.

This is the question I’m really looking and answer for.

The only cost of love is time, which is albeit short these days but that is the only investment it asks. And it asked back then too. But back then we had it plenty. Free or rather devoid from responsibilities and the mad rush for sustenance, we lived with gay abandon. I’m an old school, so extracting those little moments from a day’s grind were wonderful moments of pleasure and ecstasy. That glance, that bunk, that small talk, that small walk, those little snacks, a cup of tea, that short ride, that playful chat, that small celebration, that exam, that result, that smile, that laughter, that shoulder, that palm, that touch and that LOVE!

Now it’s more about being there. Love is felt in spending time together doing daily chores, an evening stroll, a vacation; I guess chit chats are common here, some surprises and a feeling of completeness.  

One thing I find surprising here is that back then I was running away from family for Love and today family is what gives most Love. There is a limited circle of friends which is the other family and then your actual family is the reason of your delight and your feeling of being loved. Every occasion to be together, to have fun, to pull each other legs, to enjoy joys & share miseries, to find reasons to be together and share a light heart.

They say “God gave you relatives; thank god you can choose friends”

It looked right back then, but now it feels how God could go wrong and I have already been wrong so many times. He did it right the first time and all times. We are a family because we are linked by our karma's, we have in some life done things to be born as relatives, and it’s a blessing in disguise. We were meant to be a family. I know we met certain friends because God wanted us to. We had our “business” and then they were gone. The ones who stayed, there is more in store. But we didn’t choose them, God brought them to us.

Love as I know today is not about getting but giving, not leaving but letting go, not whining but toasting wines. I’m still happy with someone not around; I can still laugh with them though not being a part of them, I feel loved still though it feels different. Love like they always said is not bounded by limits, not held by chains, not strangulated in the vacuum of dormant relations, not held captive in only my heart.

Love will shine, may be years after, but the shine of love never fade; all it needs is a little brushing with its quintessential cost, your time.

The Water Bottles

I waded through the dark of the night and fumbled and stumbled my way to the refrigerator. Like I always do, I tried to search for the bottle which was already consumed and which I could empty and then refill. And like all times, there were all the bottles lined up in the refrigerator, but all of them consumed more or less. And then comes in the visual puzzle of which one has the least to finish it up.

Either I’m a psychic to go nuts about it or there is something really wrong with the rest of the world. I think, just because there are six bottles and there may be six people in the house, doesn’t mean all six bottles need to be open up simultaneously. That way you end up with six empty bottles simultaneously and no cold water left to drink. L But the world always wants a fresh bottle to drink from.

Wouldn’t it be logical and pragmatic to just keep using the bottle that is already being used, empty it and the last one to drink from it can refill it. That will keep chilling the rest of the bottles and we can extend the duration of time for which we could have cold water. What is it with people to always use the bottle that is completely filled? Is it some kind of an ego massage that gets done only through completely filled water bottles? Or is it the laziness of who is going to fill the bottle? So let’s drink from the one already full.

The latter was valid when I stayed with my friends as bachelors. It was a truth written in the stones.

But what about now? I’m married, my maid fills the bottles, and you always get filled bottles in the refrigerator.

Now I’m looking for a new theory to quench my thirst from a about to get empty water bottle.

The Vanilla Flavour

Reminds you of that ice – cream you had a zillion times, the amorous ones have a sly smile on their face, some recall of a movie and rest still bewildered with the common yet so uncommon title.

For the start, the ice – cream ones can stay, the amorous ones can leave, it isn’t a debonair or a playboy post, the movie ones can think and the bewildered ones can definitely read on.

I was just wondering how that vanilla scoop makes our life simple, serene, calm, and composed and a happy one at the end. Confused? Read on.

We are swayed by the plethora of colors and flavors around us, but they are not the ones we can have day in day out. What can really stick with us for a long time is a boring, dull, unfashionable commoner. Beat this, an exotic cuisine at every dinner or your basic roti; a mock tail every morning or your regular tea/coffee, your designer outfit to sleep or your casual pajamas/shorts/boxers. You are getting the drift, aren’t you?

Similarly, life just loves vanilla, the common one, though we are always in the pursuit of the exotic. With so many years passed by, and lots of water flown, I’m tempted to identify the vanilla in some of my life events.

Once a female mosquito fell in love with me and her smooch hospitalized me. As is the case with all patients, someone had to stay with me in the night. The person who eventually stayed was just an acquaintance whom I barely knew, just some casual interactions and pleasantries was all that we had exchanged. It was an assorted surprise, not a vanilla at that. I was never able to thank him with all my heart but recently when his profile flashed on facebook, I did what I should have done long back. His gesture wasn’t a vanilla scoop that you often taste. A vanilla man serving his vanilla, but the moment it’s in your hands it turns exotic.

In pursuit of an exotic career, I ended up in a vanilla job. Though not exactly work wise but definitely pay wise. When the world around me was relishing their exotica’s, I was bracing up with my vanilla. Years later, the vanilla turned exotic, all my years bracing up with the vanilla paid off. I had to thank those years of vanilla to really value the exotic. Those vanilla years made me stand up, made me learned, made me wise and enterprising.

Today I still live a vanilla.

Being vanilla is really difficult, so at times you need to add some toppings, may be an additional flavor. I have done that. I have had my moments too.

But I still live a vanilla.

Kya Wrong Hai Kya Hai Right!

View image | gettyimages.com

These days I work for US east coast and shift spans from 6 pm IST to 4 am IST. Travelling to office and return to home is quite smooth as I do not face much traffic especially at 4 am. The road is deserted and lonely, so is my adjacent seat and so is the mind. It is at this stretch of the night or morning, if some would like to call it that, that the vagaries of the mind start their interplay.

More often than not, we tend to remember the bad more than the good. So is the human mind, that it flashes the memories of those incidents first where we were at mistake. To spice it up, there are occasional reminisces of good times shared with some of your best and closest pals at different time of your life. Yes, I always believe that relationships have expiry dates and only few stand the “forever”, “ever after” hash tags. Some give you chuckles, some just make you burst in laughter, some make you pensive, some make you introspective and yet some definitely raise that quintessential question “Was I wrong?”

It’s funny at times, to realize years later, that how stupid we were to raise voice on that occasion, get into an argument at that remark, flared up on being mocked, get physically aggressive on disagreements and to always have considered ourselves right. Being blessed with a rather decent memory, such incidents flash up every night while I drive through those lonely deserted roads at blatant speeds just to keep my thoughts left behind. Moron!

Another interesting fact is, if you do not have egos as hard as Hercules shield, more often than not you find that what all wrong you did and said and how different could it have been. You could have had few more friends around, few more meaningful deep and sincere relationships and more tranquil life.

As I come across these flashes, I keep accepting the wrong I did, keep forgiving the wrong of others, keep cherishing the good and keep forgetting the bad. Just to let all of those, who at one point or the other gave me the blessing of their company, get the due share of their credit and the respect, love and friendship that they expected from me, I’m letting you know, I have arrived.

At this juncture, it really doesn't matter, who was right, all that matters, is the fact, that you and I met to spend some great moments and create some great memories. I’m not sure about you, but with the kind of memory I’m blessed with, you shall always remain a part of me.

Redemption

I read these lines on the wall post of my cousins FB profile:

 “You have never really lived until you have done something for some one who can never repay you”

It immediately set my mind on a wild goose chase, that, if I have ever lived? But it wasn’t a question that any mind could answer. It required a heart. A heart that has been tormented enough to understand what pain really is, how traumatic some dreams can be and how difficult sometimes, redemption is.

The mind had a calculated answer; you did live quite a while, but you died more often.

Ahaan!! Wasn’t that known?

But then my mind wandered on to a different question altogether.

Am I worth living?

Does this heart really have something that should warrant me a life?

Is there good within?

My feeble memory took me back to this incident at Kurla station where I had earned a moment to live with honour.

I had just alighted from the first class of CST bound local and as always rushed my way to the staircase. A man stood there almost 2 meters on the reclining pavement to the over-bridge, stopping a wheelchair from falling back. An old lady occupied that wheel chair sitting almost lifeless. I would have ignored it like all other days but then that day something different happened. I don’t know why but I just walked up to that wheel chair, took hold of 1 handle and we both started pushing the wheelchair up. The non verbal consent and synchronization was baffling. As if he knew I’ll be doing this. The finishing distance was marked by stairs. We had to lift it. It looked difficult if we could do it. All of a sudden a man came and helped lift the wheel chair from behind and we managed to lift the wheel chair to the over-bridge. The man thanked both of us; I acknowledged it by placing my right hand on my heart. As I moved towards the bus depot I wondered why I did it. I just behaved like a fanatic with no reason as to why I did it.

I may never meet that man and old lady again. They too mite have forgotten me. But it still baffles me.

It seems I was made to earn that real reason of living. There is a message in it which I’m yet to decode. It’s a signal; to decipher.

I’m yet to find reason for the inquisitiveness that baffles me when I see that boy with just one side of the face or that other boy whose eye hangs popping out of the eye socket.

Loving Imperfections to Perfection...

They say its easy falling in love, its difficult staying there. For me, neither the fall, nor the stay was easy. Just about when I thought, the cake was ready to relish, the bread started crumbling.

For her, the emotions had ceased to exist, and the void was paramount to her decision. She wanted to avoid the pain and agony of close death of a bond that somewhere even she felt “EXISTED”. She wanted it easy, without slogging it out and I was ready for the turmoil, only to churn out a phoenix.

While the bread crumbs were crumbling under the so called “Marital Bliss”, I would often wander in the bliss of those cherishing memories, which laid the foundation stone to this relationship. Not really lost in oblivion was a special meet, when I had come all the way to give her solace.

“Please come, I really – really need you. Plz, plz, plz….” read the text on my cell phone. I didn’t need a reason after that; those 3 “Plz” were compelling enough. I somehow managed to get a waiting train ticket and I was ready to adjust for anything but make sure I was there for her. Luckily, I found a friend in the train, who accommodated me on his seat and I had a decent journey, all thanks to his benevolence.

I reached her place and called her up on her cell to tell her that I will not be able to come due to some problems. I knew she would come out to her balcony to pour her heart out. And she did. I asked her to look down at the street and a million dollar smile flashed at me. That was it. That smile made me oblivious of all the pain and trouble I had in making it possible to meet her. That was just the curtain raiser to her, to make her feel comfortable in the fact that her buddy was here with her now. After exchanging pleasantries and spending some time with her, I bid her good bye, only to meet up early next day and spend all the time together.

She came to my place, we hugged and greeted and she settled on the sofa across mine. We exchanged pleasantries and I knew there was so much hidden behind those made up smiles. I tapped at the vacant space besides me and gestured with my eyes, asking her to come besides me. She obliged. I took her hands in mine and asked her what it was. Just like a hot knife running over frozen butter, she started pouring it out. I let her be. After a while, it was too overwhelming to still be my cold self. I decided to comfort her and thought of hugging her. While I tried to pull her towards me, she was too stiff to even move. I thought of putting my arms around her. The moment I raised my hands to do so she moved back to rest her self, I thought of stroking her straight tresses but my fingers got stuck in her wet hair. She had washed them that day. I thought of rubbing her palms, but they were too sweaty to even hold. Then I decided to wipe her tears but the moment my hand touched her cheeks, she blew her nose out on my hands :(

I still want to hug her to make her feel warm, to untangle her tresses, to hold her palms and reassure, that, I’m there, to hold her face in the cup of my palms and tell her that I still love her.

I needed to confront her, to create a “tsaheylu” (a Navi’s emotional bond that lasts a lifetime; refer movie Avatar). 

After much cajoling and convincing, she agreed to go for a walk with me. That was my only chance; I had to make this “A Walk to Remember”.

Our silent tread towards nothing and for nothing started slowly, and silence was that pervaded all the while. But while we walked, I saved her from a ball hitting her face, held her duppatta which the wind blew away, blew in her eyes to remove that mote, held her hands when she slipped on the sludge, cleaned the park seat for her to sit, got those sweet corns she liked and smiled every time she looked at me. Yes, Smile!

“You may not realize but after a troubled night sleep due to my snoring you always had a wonderful morning sleep. Coz, I made sure that I got ready and left without making a single sound to disturb you.

You always had your special herbs & spices in the kitchen shelf, ever wondered why they never exhausted.

You never had to bother for keys; you always found them with me.

Whenever you had a bad day, you always had me by your side and I always heard you out. You complained that I don’t respond but did you ever thank that I listened?

The maid didn’t hassle you for her salary, neither the servant did, nor the others, wonder why?

You complained that I didn’t compliment but did you ever saw me not liking you in anything you wore?

Our special nights, slow, sedating and exhausting, yet left you satiated.

Whenever you had your way, you didn’t realize, I was with you in that way.

I may not be the perfect husband, I may not have done things perfectly yet in my imperfections, I have made you happy. Even I didn’t have the perfect love, but I loved your imperfections to perfection.”

Silence pervaded again. We started to walk back but after a while I realized it was just me. I looked back to find her still sitting there. I called for her, she wasn’t hearing. I walked up to her to find wet eyes trying to have a clear sight of all the messed things around. She pulled me down to sit with her.

I hugged her, put my arms around her, stroked my fingers in those straight tresses, rubbed her palms to console her, wiped her tears AND kissed her to make up for all the lost time.

To Be or Not To Be...

To be or not to be, that is the question,

Whether it’s nobler in the mind,

To suffer the slings & arrows,

Of this outrageous fortune,

Or by taking her arms in yours

Settle down to a commitment…

That certainly didn’t happen with her. It just wrecked like a paper boat, flung into the lanes, marooned by the gushing rain water. The boat is nice, crisp and clean, only until it’s in the hands of its creator but the moment it’s left to prove its efficacy, it realizes, it is just a pawn to the forces much stronger than it. To wreck or to sail, is not the authority or discretion of the boat, no not its creators either, it’s the gushing rain water’s.

I have slammed to the walls, dollop and galloped, drowned and wrecked in a similar gush. It’s been years yet seems just a tale from the last weekend. Weekdays don’t leave me with much thoughts or emotions. The face is familiar, the touch reminiscent, the roads known, and smiles…

A smile can be deceptive too.

I was looking for something in my mailbox, when I stumbled upon an old chat, about 4 years old, which reminded me of the good old days. The days when the boat was still a piece of paper in that notebook, which awaited the graphite to scribble love notes onto it. Rhapsody!!!

It wasn’t evident then, but when I read the chat now, I see that the future was scribbled right in its inception. If only, I wasn’t human enough, I could have seen through it. What was bliss then looks a spoof now. A spoof life played on me. I was someone really special to the puppet master. But with all strings in the hands of someone else, a puppet has nothing but to play to the spoof. And I valiantly did.

I stand dried on a perched top now. The rain water naturally descended. But its lonely being deserted to this corner and awaiting.

The wait is for that second pounding. Yes!!! I await the gushing rain waters again for now I’m prepared, have learnt the maneuvers, have jostled the contours, have known the trajectory and I’m nice, crisp and clean again.

Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!)
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace…

Dawn !!

Every morning, I wake up to turn a new leaf in the book of my life… and every evening, I turn back five, to be back in that abyss. Every day dawns with great hope and optimism… and the evening sets in with the daunting reality called ‘LIFE’.

I’m an ordinary guy, looking for that prefix ‘Extra’ in my existence. It isn’t simple being ordinary. The pressure to co – exist in a cannibalizing world takes the sheen off your visage, the juice off your spirit and the life off your ‘Life’.

I hate the word “Compromise” but that’s the other name for “Life” for me. An ordinary only compromises with every other thing co – existing around him. He has no wishes, desires, power or authority to overrule any aspect of his existence.

An ordinary is like the moon, he may shine bright in the night sky, helping the poet with his prose, the lovers with some romantic anecdote, the holy to shun the evil, the oldies with reminiscences, but without any innate light of his own.  

An ordinary doesn’t have the face that he can boast of. He is always behind someone. That someone becomes extra – ordinary, though the ordinary is always his backbone.

I’m an ordinary guy, looking for that prefix ‘Extra’ in my existence.

December Sunshine

My cell phone abruptly rang and I fumbled my hand around to find it. The cell made my bed vibrate, I was about to ignore it when something made me attend it. The voice on the other end was familiar. I could recognize it even after a zillion years though it had been just a year when I last spoke to her. She wanted to meet me. I couldn’t believe my ears. We had not spoken at all after I proposed her last November and she couldn’t find an acceptance to it. It was difficult to talk after that. Don’t know what makes her meet me now.

We met at this mall where she greeted me warmly. Like two old friends catching up, we started warming up with our whereabouts in the last year or so. She hadn’t seen a good movie in a long while and wanted to catch up on a rom-com. So there I was standing in the queue looking up for some nice movie. Luckily, the weekday promises you best seats at dirt cheap prices. I’m generally the quiet types at movie, totally involved in the story, replacing the hero and putting my current crush as heroine ;)

As the movie progressed, I felt a twitch in my palm. I saw her slowly pushing her palm on to mine, and then she held onto it. Her touch was amazing. For a moment I saw myself out of that hall and into some valley of flowers, just two of us and the tenderness of love, emotions and flowers. I didn’t react and let it be. After the interval, the touch was even more intimate and the feel much warmer.

“Though I’m really dumb at this, but I’m all ears”, I said.

“For what?” she asked

“Well, its quite suggestive and definitely leading me into this corner where I’m quite clear what it should be, but I will still give you the honor of expressing yourself”, I quipped.

“I guess, I will like to take it forward..”

“Take forward what?”

“Where we left”

I really had no clue to this riddle. What exactly she wanted to start, yeah a start, coz there was nothing that ended, to really take forward.

“I did like you but some how just couldn’t accept it for I had to deal with a lot of other stuff…” she said with her eyes finding her soul, buried deep in the ground.

“I realized over this time, that even those 2 line chats with you, would make me happy, and those funny antics of yours, always made me smile before I slept each day. I have missed all of that….  I don’t know if it’s right or not but I would like to give it a shot.

I couldn’t stop smiling. Crap, I really am a smiling damned villain, why can’t I just keep a straight face in a deep emotional situation like this.

“What?”

“What ….??”

“What are you smiling at?”

“I dunno, I mean I dunno how to react to it…I mean so are we dating each other now, I mean we are a couple now, I mean we have a future that I can look forward to…..”, crap, straight head dude, straight head.

“Lets meet in the evening at the “Palette Pal”, its kinda deserted and we can have a great space to converse”

“Ok!”, I didn’t know how to bid her a bye, should I shake hands, or kiss her, peck her cheeks, or just a hug… she made the better choice. She put her hands around me and made me walk till the road. Those 10 steps, you bet, were like a walk in the clouds. It was a journey I would never like to end. The softness of her palm, the tenderness of her fingers, and the warmth of that touch, it was all so mesmerizingly beautiful.

We met in the evening. Conversation kept flowing with the coffee and it really did for the first time. Smiles, chuckles, laughters, blushes, silences, stares and of course the conversation, everything happened on that table that evening. Time flew by and she had to leave. The same jeopardy mocked us again. How do we good bye? She didn’t help me this time. She started moving towards the road. I followed suit.

As I walked, I tried reading her thoughts, and they buzzed loud in my ears.

“why cant he kiss me?.....”

“he could have hugged me…”

“if not a hug, what bad was holding hands while walking….”

The rick stopped, and just when she was bout to board I pulled her towards me. My left hand ran up her waist, and I ran my right hand backwards from her forehead. I held her neck, twitched it a bit, her lips opened in anticipation….

I made a fang of my two fingers and massaged her spine down her back. Slowly and carefully, as I moved down, I pressed my fingers on her spine, that pushed her closer to me. Just when she was beginning to give it away, and her spine reached the tail bone, I moved my fingers away, before it became awkward for her.

I let her lose. She hurriedly sat in the rick and away she went. I was smiling and I knew she was smiling too.

Today the sun shined bright in my life...

P.S.: The Couple are blind, devoid of the sense of Vision, their other senses make it up for that loss.
Just in case you didn't get it while reading or watching the suggestive pictures. :)

SHE with HE

This was a relationship with a difference. I was free to be with anyone and SHE didn’t want anyone. No strings attached yet invisible strings existed between us. A bond truly carved from outside this world, which defied logic and yet epitomized a utopian relationship, platonic in words yet realistic in existence.

I remember, the other day when I had brought home this gal from my office; Natalie. She was a beautiful hot chic not detesting one night stands or casual flings. We were in the resting area and I was sure that SHE was in her room. But I had nothing to bother. This wasn’t the first time and like every time SHE wouldn’t question, SHE wouldn’t say anything, SHE wouldn’t mind; all that SHE would reflex was a sly smile that meant “Loser” for me and “Not again” for her.

There I was on the couch, kissing and caressing Natalie when SHE entered the resting room. Seeing us in that situation, SHE wasn’t amused but Natalie for sure was surprised. It was difficult for me to explain the complexity of this symbiotic existence to her and for Natalie; SHE was an “another” woman.

Gosh!! It wasn’t amusing to me as well.

Natalie banged the door on me and barged out of my place, me running after her, but in vain.

I came back exhausted and dejected only to find HER smiling as if she connived to get me in this mess.

I looked in HER eyes and they had this sly smile, mocking at me. She burst into laughter and ran in the bedroom. I followed suit.

I caught hold of HER and rolled onto the bed. I stretched both HER hands and started biting HER softly like a dog whose bone was taken away from him.

SHE kept laughing at it.

After a few mouthful bites, I stopped, SHE stopped laughing too.

We looked deep in each others eyes. SHE was beautiful and I knew it. The threads pulled us together again. Our eyes were locked and soon the lips too.

Cuddling in the bed, kissing and caressing, I pulled HER tee down HER shoulder and softly nibbled them, moving up the neck, then the ear.

The ear did it. The hand like a laser guided missile moved further down, to feel the curves. They are always at it.

I looked at HER again. There was silence this time.

“Get over me”, she said. “Or you’ll end up like this all the time”

SHE was right. I always ended on HER.

To reason is to find an escape route. I didn’t want to escape from this reality, the fact that I end up with her and that I’m content in this precarious relationship that is inexplicable to common senses.

I don’t want to get away from the reality of this perfect abode where “SHE is with HE”

She is Beautiful

She is beautiful.

Sitting across the table in that cafeteria, I could not take my eyes off her face.

There is serene calmness on her face, well composed posture and every word of the few uttered, was a romantic rhapsody. Her smile is elusive. It reminds me of all those moments I have spent with her, memories forever.

She is beautiful.

Often, the breeze would make, that strand of her tress, caress her soft face and she would not make any attempt to show her resentment against its audacity. But I felt interrupted; I had to have a full look of her face, with all her attention. I slowly held that strand between my two fingers and pushed it back to where it belonged. Her eyes lit bright and a minute twitch of the lips, suggesting a smile, which meant that she, liked the gesture.

She is beautiful.

We were involved in our conversation, when this sultry seductress passed by us. I blinked, my eyes quickly checked her out, assessing the highs and lows, I blinked, and I was back into her eyes. A sly smile, in its most diminished form, is what I mite have had on my face, but she is unfazed. Her calmness is serenading and serenity still pervading on that table for two.

She is beautiful.

Holding her hand, I feel, protected, comforted, loved, cared, inspired and motivated. I could spend an eternity here at this table. We weren’t talking yet the eyes had so much to say. They have been busy all this evening. She shows no fear yet the fear resides, it looms largely in our heart. We have caged it there and yet it affects the faculty of our mouth.

I blow into her face…

She is beautiful.

We decide to go for a stroll in the park nearby. I held her. She rested her head on my shoulder. Her touch is nice, her touch is cold, her touch is sweaty, and her touch is loose.

She WAS beautiful.

Mumbai Tales

I fought my way out from the crowd, every one of whom wanted to be the first to board the bus and somehow managed to put my foot firmly on the footboard of the bus and held the rod tightly. My eyes meticulously started scanning for a vacant seat. It’s a time bound game, where your mind and body have to be there agile best. The mind has to interpret, the data at hand, at lightning speed, and the body has to quickly react with the processed data. Result….you get to be seated in the ever crowded “BEST BUS”.

This is Mumbai meri jaan, where life is a mechanized system of well defined parameters and the output is nothing but a lethargic self who earns his bread and butter from the sugar bowl of the country.

I managed to get myself an aisle seat, right side of the bus. The bus halts at the next stop and then moves again. A white Tee and denim clad gal, crosses my seat and sits across my seat on the left side of the bus though 2 rows ahead. I can’t see her face coz her silky tresses were left open to bedazzle the lethargic mortals of the bus by their free flight in the breeze.

I’m trying, making my eyes make impossible angles to get a look at her face. Desperation…..

Then I get to see her hand….the opposite side of her palm had a scar on it. Looked like a burn scar. I kept looking at it. It fascinated me. I was thinking about the story behind the scar, the events that would have resulted in that scar, the story of the gal who has this scar, and how her face looks like.

The ticket collector called “Master” in Mumbai came to my rescue and played the role of my best friend. She turned back to take her ticket…..What a beautiful face she had….. Yet she had an ugly scar to her hand. I was forced to recall a dialogue from Hamlet where Shakespeare said that even if a thing is very beautiful, one spot, mark, or scar can taint its entire beauty and take away all its credit. Though this was said by Polonius to Ophelia and in context of a girl’s chastity, it holds true for all beautiful objects. We do disregard a beautiful piece, even though its 99.99% beautiful.

It was an instant attraction. I was in love with that scar laden beauty. I kept looking at her scar until she decided to get down on her stop. I missed her for the rest of my journey.

The scar remained in my mind all that night and I kept recalling the picture of her hand, her beautiful face and the silky tresses.

I was returning from work the next day, fought my way again for a vacant seat, and by a strange twist of fate, the girl is again in the same bus. The scar catches my attention again, though her hair was tied. It’s strange, banging into the same gal for 2nd consecutive day. I felt a connection, and a strong urge to talk to her. But I didn’t want to be termed a pervert. India is still not for a guy like me who has a clear conscience and clean intentions. We live through lot of social taboos.

The scar is holding my attention again, it’s a beautiful scar. Yeah I like it. I want to hold that hand, and allay all the pain associated with it, mitigate her fears and give her a smile of mine.

She gets down on her stop, taking away my attention.

I have never seen her again. The journey continues…
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I hear these chuckles of a kid coming from the front of the bus. Then I hear some laughing, then a scolding, and some more laughing.

A spastic kid sitting in front of the bus is catching people’s attention. Few morons scolding him for they cant understand him.

I’m fascinated by his world and amused by the happiness he was exuding. He was crowded by some 50 odd morons in that bus including me, but that didn’t bother him. He was very much in his world, thoroughly enjoying it, and living every bit of it which none of those morons did. I had stopped it long back.

He spoke to himself, telling himself about things which amused him; he would laugh, chuckle and then get silent. He looked at things with lot of curiosity. A sense of wonder would grasp him, something that his senses could not comprehend and the other morons never bothered to understand it.

He would tell someone about something and would either laugh or get silent at the response of his invisible friend.

Fascinating….

I’m jealous of him. He has what none of the moron’s in that bus can ever get. He holds the secret to life, and is very subtly, giving it out too. We are too stupid to even get a bit of it.

I’m jealous of him. His happiness is choking
I’m jealous of him. His world is such a wonderful place to be.
I’m jealous of him. He has a friend to talk to.
I’m jealous of him. People don’t bother or deter him.
I’m jealous of him. He has not lost his sense of wonder.
I’m jealous of him. He is what he wants to be.
I’m jealous of him. He is intelligent and he doesn’t have to prove it to anyone.
I’m jealous of him. He has contentment.
I’m jealous of him. His soul is free of vices.
I’m jealous of him. He holds no pretences.
I’m jealous of him. He has not lost his smile.

I’m jealous……

I Danced, like I never did before..

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------I am writing after about 8+ months and I don’t know if I still can but nevertheless, sometimes some crap can even taste nice.
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It was uncalled for, unwarranted, yet a strange mix of emotions had compelled me to accept this invitation. It was astonishing that how easily I had accepted it. I had no clue how this will happen yet a force, unparallel, unmatched, had overcome my reasoning and I had just given into it.
The stage was all set…
I move in..
The dance floor was glittering, shimmering and was inundated with numerous divas of the night.
And in the centre, of all those incandescent divas of the night, I could easily spot her. It wasn’t really difficult. You may call me pink blind. She was in a dazzling pink dress. No wonder she looked scintillatingly beautiful, gorgeous, out-of-the-world… I mite just fall short of words :)
I was invited to the floor along with one of my friend…
It was strange, may be I was timid; I couldn’t dance among all those divas around and my friend….a married bloke was hitting the floor hard and the girls just grooving around him. I knew it wasn’t coming. I was off the floor, went to the bar and had few shots. The throat was drenched and the blood had it running with it. I felt I was ready.

I hit the floor again. The beats, the moves, the jigs, the jives, the hops….everything was flowing out as the booze ran through the blood. Soon the tired divas were off the floor and my happy bloke friend too.
She had to oblige me, I was her invite.

The floor was all ours, so was the choice of music. A sly smile and a wink, and the DJ knew what he was mixing next.
She was there, she was in my arms, she was beside me, she was in front of me, she was behind me…yes she was all around me and I around her. We swayed with the music, we bent with the music, we grooved with the music. We had people staring at us, we had people praising us, we had people envying us, we had people blessing us and we had people asking for more… The ambience was great, the music apt and we did all we could.
I DANCED... LIKE I NEVER DID BEFORE….

I shall always remember the night, that dance and yes HER !