Friday, February 28, 2014

Share the snap shots of your thoughts

Share the snap shots of your thoughts
Tell me whats on your mind
I know there is storm brewing inside you 
that reflects the emotions of equal kind
The pain may not go away if you say
 'cheese'
But holding hands you may find ease
Open your eyes,
See 
you are not alone
Each one is fighting their own battle
Expecting peace to reach their goal

Tuesday, February 18, 2014

Celebrated Valentine Day the FB Way


FB is the place where we share status updates and on special days, our time line is full of similar messages. here are some of the messages that I posted during Valentine week.

Date 9th Feb : ate too many chocolates on Watsapp today

Date 11th Feb: There is so much love in the air..I only need to catch it

Date 13th Feb: 

Love has not lost its meaning
It only changed its level of priorities
Heart still somersaults, even skips a beat
When Biryani is cooked to perfection

Date: 13th Feb

Love- a tattooed feeling
Engraved over heart
Blazes fond memories

Date 14th Feb

On this pre-Valentine party, the contest was to write a mushy poem using the words pizza, pasta and cheese at the italian restaurant 'le Mangii' today. Everybody participated expressing their love in european style. The proud winner of the contest took his wife by her elbow n recited the mushy pasta feelings on a pizza date, singing 'tu cheese badi hai mast mast"...

Date 14th Feb

Will do what I love the most
Read write paint or roam
Meet people who have positive energies
Those who will caress my soul
Will snuggle in those memories
That brings the light into my eyes
On this day of Valentine
Will bathe with love and roll

Date: 14th Feb

My timeline is full of love torn Valentine greetings
Is there so much love in the air?

they talk of passions
flames of desire
the unquenchable thirst

but here I am in company
of married couple with
just few nuptial years.

there is no fire, silly
just shamelessly dressed up lusty words

cupid, chocolates, red roses
scintillate tender minds
arouse emotions of innocent kind
who yet have to explore love

Saturday, February 15, 2014

Postcard From Spain


Dear Didi       date: 4nd March 2012
I shouldn’t have come to Spain, really, it’s taking me so much time to adjust. Okay, I admit that the roads are huge with three lanes on both side and beautiful colored flowers at the dividers. There are yellow, blue, red flowers everywhere. There are beautiful rock gardens under every bridge. There is sweet fragrance in the air. We drive at high speed of 130 and there is a separate lane for overtaking. There is no garbage or dust on the road. It’s a pleasure driving on these clean roads. But my happiness ends there. I am lonely. I miss my friends and family here. Madam hardly ever speaks to me. Our conversation is limited to just few syllables a day and most of the time I just nod my head in agreement. She is a busy woman, always attending to her clients or talking on the phone.
Okay, got to go, Madam is calling……

Dear Didi     Date: 6th May 2012
Today, madam asked me to come to the store to help her with little bit of cleaning. There are two more salesgirls at the store but they are always talking with each other. They waste so much time sitting idle, just waiting for clients. Madam does not tell them anything. They only smile when they see me but they never talk to me. They don’t know to speak in English, nor do they speak Hindi. I am learning Spanish. I have brought one book too. I know to count numbers from one to ten in Spanish and also know few words like ‘si’ ‘no’ ‘gracias’.  Madam told me to clean one window at the store. I remembered a joke. Do you remember that joke about a Sadarji who threw his spouse out of window and shouted “Love is in the air, love is in the air”. I wanted to tell that joke to those two salesgirls at the store. You had told me once that relating jokes is a good way to strike up a conversation. But how do I tell a joke in Spanish? Oh, I feel so helpless. I wanted to share this joke with somebody and have a good laugh; I can’t tell Madam, she has no sense of humor. It’s been quite a some time since I last laughed loudly. I went to the bathroom, stood in front of the mirror and told the joke to the image in the mirror.  Okay, I did have my dose of laughter but alone. Just me. I often do that.

Dear Didi       Date: 8th July 2012
This week, we had guests from India. There was too much work in the house. But it was nice to hear the familiar Indian language in the house. I even saw madam relaxing. Madam would take them out for sight seeing everyday but mornings they were all at home. There was so much laughter during breakfast time. I cooked special meals for them and they praised my cooking. One day they even invited me to accompany them to the bird park. I was so happy. I quickly went to my room and dressed in my dark pink skirt and floral t-shirt. I put a large sunflower clip in my hair. Remember those red plastic bangles, I wore them too. Madam was not happy with my dress-sense. She said that I would draw too much attention on the road. She made me change my clothes. I had to wear madam’s used jeans and dull grey blouse. What kind of place is this where I can’t even dress the way I like? Madam is very bossy.

Dear Didi       Date: 14th October 2012
It is such a pleasure receiving mail from you. I eager wait for your reply. Sometimes when I see the postman, I run to the door to ask him if there is any mail for me. No, I don’t talk much to him, I cannot, I have to ask him in gestures, because he speaks only Spanish. But he is very fair and handsome. I think he gets haircut from a ladies saloon, or maybe he knows some hairstylist. He looks like our Salman Khan. He is always very neatly dressed in his uniform of yellow shirt and yellow pant. He has a yellow bag too and you know what, he comes on yellow scooter, there is a small, white emblem of the post-office on his scooter.. He is so stylish really. Whenever he has letter for me, he gives me a very sweet smile. I am working very hard on my Spanish so that I can talk to him.

Dear Didi     Date 25th December 2012
I cannot tell you how excited I am. Today I got a Christmas gift. Guess who gave me? No, its not Madam, oh ok, she did give me a Christmas gift too, a dull brown color t-shirt that her friend had given her, she did not like it so she has passed it on to me. But I am so thrilled that I got an expensive perfume this Christmas. Salman Khan gave me. Actually his name is Pedro. Nowadays he comes regularly even though there is no letter for me. One day he even took me for a small ride on his yellow scooter, not very far, just at the end of the lane and back. It was so much fun. I have learnt so much Spanish from him. Whenever I make gestures to explain, he tells me a word for it. He has also given me few picture books. At night, after I finish all my housework. I learn Spanish.

Dear Didi         date 30th December 2012
I am very confused. Pedro wants to take me out for New Year night. He says there is a huge celebration at the city square. It is like a big fair and there are thousands of people on the street. There are many hotdogs and churro chocolate kiosks on the footpath. He says that he will buy for me grapes. People here pop 12 grapes into their mouth, one by one, when the clock strikes 12 at midnight. They welcome the New Year in this grape-popping ceremony. This is followed by grand, spectacular display of fireworks in the sky. Have you seen the designs of necklaces, geometrical shapes, animals, and brightly colored sparkling glitter in the sky? Whole crowd cheers after every design. After that there is dance and music on the streets all night. I want to go but how to take permission from Madam? Pedro says I can sneak out, he will help me, this will be a secret between us. Madam need not know, he says

Dear Didi   date 14th February 2013
Since last one week I cannot stop my tears from falling. I have terrible cold and am sniffing all day. My bones ache while I do the housework. I think my body is also very warm. Madam is also ignoring me. Our neighbor told Madam that Pedro comes home everyday when she is not at home. Madam started abusing me. She has warned me that she will send me back to India if Pedro does not stop coming to the house. She has warned Pedro too. She told him to just drop letters in the mailbox and not to ring the doorbell. Pedro is not afraid of her. He still rings the doorbell and talks to me. Today he sent me a bouquet and box of chocolate to wish me a Valentines’ day. Madam is very angry. I don’t know what to do.

Dear Didi                  16th June 2013
Didi, I am pregnant. It was an accident. I cannot go to the doctor with Pedro secretly. I will have to ask Madam to help me with an abortion. Pedro says he cannot marry me. He says we are just friends.

Dear Didi                   15th August
I have just finished packing my bags. The air tickets are lying on the table. I want to inform you that I will reach India at 1am on 18th August. Do note down my flight no 3789 Iberia airlines. I don’t know whether to be happy or sad. But I think it is better this way. I don’t like working for Madam anymore. She can never be my friend, ever. She will not allow me to work anywhere else. Moreover, Pedro is just a friend; it was difficult to have a proper conversation with him in Spanish. Madam says that such kind of relationship cannot last long. I think I will be happier in India living amongst my own people. The good thing is that now I will be called foreign return. I am sure I will get a better job. Life must go on. See you soon.

PS: The above story is written in epistolary writing format - prose or poetry written as a series of documents. According to Wikipedia, the usual form is letters, although diary entries, newspaper clippings and other documents are sometimes used. Recently, electronic "documents" such as recordings and radio, blogs, and e-mails have also come into use.

Saturday, February 08, 2014

Useless TV Discussions


I said 
you said
listen to this.. 
all the nonsense the nation wants to know
The debate goes on 
nobody listening
everybody just expressing their views
Voices loud
windows rattle.
all words mixed up
In anger soup
What use is this intelligence 
That does not even succeed 
in sending
 man to the moon??

Will Miss KalaGhoda Festival This Year


Just few miles away
On south side of town
City celebrates arts and culture festival
Vibrant is air with yellow red and bluish flair
each year, I went
walked carelessly down Rampart row
Flashing my camera at
Images raw and bold
Movies theatre workshops
Walks and talk shows
There were stories to be shared at midday meals with group of lit friends at Samovar or beneath the tree
But
Second year running
Injured foot obstructs my freedom
Cannot move beyond my threshold
on virtual medium I watch images in sepia tones
No sight smell nor sound
Sorry I am homebound
KGAF my condition is fizz
One more year i shall give you a miss

I have freedom to ignore your post


I have freedom to ignore your post
if it does not please my senses
I have freedom not to comment
if your post needs no answers
I dont control your motives
you can post what you wish
be it love, hate or passion
if it makes you happy to be in limelight
go ahead
but please do not taunt me for my silence...

Monday, February 03, 2014

I am Going to Shoot You

I am going to shoot you
come brightly dressed
in most precious finery
Put big round bindi on your forehead
like you always do
remember to wear those thick gold bracelets
with red and yellow glittering stones
and a silver ring on your nose with
chain that connects the link to your hair pin
don't wear the kajal in your eyes
its for those with smaller eyes
just dress your lips with glossy red
you might even need a little smile

I have a new camera 
do come home
I am going to shoot you

Monday, January 20, 2014

The Twins

Monika has keys to my house and she often stays out late nights attending social events or visiting friends. It is part of her job, she argues. She believes it is important to attend parties to meet informally with her clients.

She has broken my house rules many times. Paying guests always do that and she is no different. When they come looking for a place to stay, they agree to all house rules. They agree to
1. Come home before 12midnight or else inform me if they are late, 
2. Not waste electricity and water, 
3. Keep the kitchen clean, 
4. Not bring their guests home.

The house rules are followed diligently for one full week, and then there is a memory loss. It’s always me who has to adjust. My house, my rules, but it is difficult to maintain discipline. I mean what should I say if she is ready to leave, dressed up for a party at 11pm? What would her parents say? Would she listen? Sometimes I think their parents have thrown them out of their house for being so aggressive and disobedient. 

“Go on, lead your own life and let us lead our own in peace” I imagine them standing outside their door in the middle of the night while their parents scream loudly, disturbing the neighbors.

It’s a slow death for me too, to see them live with so much irresponsibility. It is normal to see them wasting water, using electricity in broad daylight and making mess in the kitchen. Many times, I want to shake them vigorously to bring sense into their brains. There are moments when, instead of nagging, I shut myself in my room and pretend that they don’t exist

“You cannot bring any guest home, understand that.” I had told Monika firmly when she first came to see the room. “And don’t you think I will not know if you do so in my absence. I will. I live in a friendly neighborhood. They are watching. They will inform me if you do.” She had nodded her head meekly when I had explained the rules in details

Neighbors are my extended family. They become alert when my doorbell rings. They inquire about my personal outings. They will even bring home cooked delicacy just to snoop around more than it is necessary. I cannot expect privacy from my neighbors. But my neighbors didn’t know that Monika had twin sister, neither did I

Each time I went out, she would sweetly ask me about my whereabouts and what time was I expected back, then she would decide if it was safe to invite her twin sister home.

Her twin came home regularly in my absence but my neighbors didn’t notice. How could they? Both were tall, thin, fair with large eyes, well-chiseled features, mirror image of each other, the only difference being in the length of their hair. Maya had short hair reaching up to shoulders while her twin sister had long hair reaching to her waist.

“Good morning Ma’am” she murmurs, toothpaste foam thick around her mouth, lock of her hair covering her left eye. Her warm grey tee shirt covering her hips, her legs long and smooth, she is bent over the sink, barefoot.

“Tink tonk”

Ouch! These doorbells leave me no moments of silence. I envy those who hire help to answer the doorbells. RamPrasad comes everyday. Dress in dhoti and faded kurta, scanty, salt and pepper hair, a big bamboo basket on his head, he smiles exposing his one stained tooth as he lowers the basket before I can even refuse. He brings selective seasonal fruits, bright yellow oranges, tiny bananas, apples, melon, green papayas, strawberries.

“Come only once a week. Don’t come everyday’” I scold. I feel obliged to buy fruits from him because he is old and dares to climb up two floors to bring fruit to my house. 

He argues and complains about hard times. 

“What to do madam, sales are very low and everything is so expensive.” Reluctantly, I buy one kilo of fragrant apples and one big melon.

I turn back and see Monika still at the wash basin, rinse her face. Her hair rolled in a bun, high up and she is dressed in thin muslin nightgown. 

I frown but decide not to comment on her change of clothes; instead I say, “That’s a long time to brush your teeth, no?”

She says nothing but disappears into the room.

I stand there, with open jaw, staring at her room door.

Tink Tonk

Oh no! Again the doorbell. 

“Madam, you need to sign this circular. Society meeting is scheduled for this Sunday” says the watchman.

I take a pen from his hand, quickly signed under my name. 

Back into my living room, I take a duster and begin to clean the door.

“Didi, do you have an aspirin? I have a severe headache” I looked up to reply but I am distracted when I see her again in long grey tee shirt and short hair like I had seen earlier. With towel in her hand, she is standing outside the bathroom.

I have never seen anybody change clothes with so much frequency.

My medicine cabinet is well stocked with pain killers, cough syrup, ointments, bandages, heat pad, blood pressure monitor, blood sugar accu-check. From the bottle of aspirin, I remove two tablets and walk into her room.

The room is spacious but obnoxious. There are clothes on the bed and on the floor. Books, magazines, cosmetics cluttered on the dressing table, empty coffee cup on the side table. 

“Here take the aspirin, this should relieve your headache” I stretch my hand. I am surprised once again when I see her in thin muslin night-gown.

“How many times do you change your clothes?”

She looks at me blankly, pouting.

“I said that how many times do you change your clothes?”

“But, but, just once ma’am” she stammers

“Earlier I saw you in long Tee and now I see you in nightgown”

“Thank you didi” I hear her chirpy voice from the other side of the room.

Confused, I turn around to see the replica of Monika standing behind me, smelling fresh, her wet hair tendrils dripping drops of water on her arm.

I look from Monika to her sister and back again, my eyes wide open

“So sorry didi, we came home late last night from the party and I asked my twin to spend the night here. I am sorry I didn’t tell you.”

I stood there fuming at their deceit.

Friday, January 10, 2014

Remembering a Friend

Remembering my friend 
on her birthday  
thinking when I will see her again. 

Its been many moons and Suns  
she has been far away..

Remembering the trips to social events, 
traveling in local trains, 
visiting laughter and poetry clubs  
returning home very late..

Remembering the times at railway station, 
waiting endlessly
but she is always late..
she smiles coyly 
lets me frown 
then we run together 
to catch approaching train

Remembering my dearest friend today 
and all I can do is 
wish her well..
wherever she is 
happy now.
adding my birthday wishes as well

Unfriend on FaceBook

Many on my FaceBook tonight
Want to break ties
With mute, dumb 
or underage 
to restore their pride


But life goes on even if 
they choose 
to erase those serious lurkers


They care but never speak a word 
unless 
there is a moment of shudder.


Each one on a friends list 
had a purpose, 
it began with a common goal


A poem, prose or just a lust, 
to share 
a random thoughts and more, 

but


When u shut the door on their face..
u must have a reason 
for this disgrace


He may notice 
or maybe not 
but you will surely miss 
that empty space...

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