Wednesday, November 19, 2014

Humour me..this men's day!

Me (To the boys in the whatsapp group): 

Happy International Men's day to you guys.. You guys are few of the most amazing men I know!!

Maloo:

 Huh! Aaj toh world sanitation day hai na! 

Debo: 

Ek hi baat hai! 

ROFLMAO!!

***

Jee haan, Aisa bhi hota hai! :D

Friday, November 14, 2014

In those woods..

Lost in those woods
where childhood meant
finding treasures

Never coming back 
to a place where
folks killed for pleasure

Like that gentleman
who picked up a sword
of shallow deceit..

and shoved it in the 
heart of his beloved!
what a courageous feat! 

War or not, Peace or not! 
Oblivious to everything
beyond measure

We were lost 
in the woods
Finding treasures

Wish we never came back!

Thursday, November 13, 2014

Self Love

Self love is very important. If you can't love yourself, you can't love other people with utmost honesty. You are nothing but a reflection of how you feel about yourself.

I remember how annoyed I used to be when something I wanted badly did not happen. My anger would in turn be directed towards other people and things

If my anger reflected so truly when I was disgusted within, why wouldn't love work on the same principle?

One fine day, I decided to forgive myself and overcome all guilt I ever had. Surprisingly with more acceptance came more self love.

~ From the archives

Thursday, October 16, 2014

Unpublished




He sighed as the faded ink in his notebook, diluted the feelings of the words he had once penned down. 

It read,
When we are 80, and neither of us can read anymore, I will lend you my extra special bifocal lenses to zoom in to my feelings. You would need them. You would have lost the sight, as much as I would have.
It still takes nothing for me to understand what you want. I always know it. Like I did back then. You always needed reassurances, and missives. I hated writing, and you turned me into a novelist.
Words poured like rains during monsoons. Why, you'd wonder? I wrote so that one day, while walking past that book store, you'd pick up a hardbound with my name on it. And wonder..
'Am I the protagonist? Did he write about me?'
Knowing that you'd chance upon my book and read it- Back to back... and realize, it wasn't about you. 
You'd ponder furthermore, 'perhaps there will be sequel to this. He said he was madly in love with me. He ought to write one book at least about me'.
Thinking that, you'd indulge in another book, with my name on it and consume all that I had to give. And try to find yourself -In me.
Why do you have to find yourself in me? Don't you know, how you left a part behind when you refused to talk. Talk anymore about what had gone wrong?
You want to see how I perceive you today? You want to search yourself in the things I do?
What do you ask of a writer, who has forgotten his existence?  Who writes to discover himself, after losing his senses in the person he claimed to love more than anyone else?
When you are everything that is there, what are you looking for? Are  you trying to find light in the sun, or a shadow in the dark?
You are looking for that drop in the ocean which I set fire to, last summer. There is no soul anymore. It's gone!
Then, why do you read? Especially my books?
I promised, I would lend you my bifocals... 
You should've waited.
Or...
Come back...Now..
Because I know I am going to live till I am 80 or even more... for many many years.. 
I have already tasted death..  

She walked around the city looking for bookstores hoping to find a book she hadn't read- With his name.

The book she was looking for, was never published! 

Thursday, October 09, 2014

Two Sides


On one side there is chaos
Other side -depth

Depth of silence and calmness
that comes from drowning in the waters of nothingness
Rarely do I find a place where choices are in such contrast
And I want both! 

I want life to elude me, entertain me, as I do 
I want life to be faithful, like I am -to it..
I want life to know I want it as much it wants me
I know it does!

It wants me to feel the love and pain
And I want it to feel the same
It tries to hurt me really hard
And I want to go on, un-scarred

It wants me to appreciate its value
I do! I really do!
But I want life to appreciate what I give, too
Does it?

The other side, the choice -
The flip side of chaos is serenity
..where there is life, but no life...
Only depths of illusions and heights of wonder

It asks nothing of me.
And I ask nothing of it..
We exist together
Like no two entities would have existed better
- In Harmony!

Someday I'll embrace it
This choice – I’ll hold it and grace it! 
And I know I wouldn't regret..
Because I have been on the brink 
For far too long!

Tuesday, October 07, 2014

Diving in Lies

Picture Courtesy : Diba Raza

Tell only that's necessary..
hide everything else!

They don't need to know
when you come and where you go

Lie about it if you must
who's to tell what's unkind and what's just?

You bare only when you wish to
dare and hide everything within you

You go away far, lie that you will stay
you dream whenever you want, even if it's day!

You explore the lands of success and joy
the world's gentle banter will yet remain, Oh! Boy!

But that's what you always do
you go, lie girl, they don't deserve the truth!

Cheat on your love, kiss 'nother lip
go on a picnic- in that sea of silence take a dip

you owe no one anything
cry whenever you want, or rumble and sing

Even if you are alone, don't fear
You ran away from truth, nothing else would be near

But lie! Be a glib liar!
Talk with those eyes, set hearts on fire

Because that is what will take you till the last
 Leap into the future and smother that indelible past

Truth, you'll seek your own way, if you have to
just keep doing what you always do!

You hurt no one at least, happily they'd die
Even if all the things you ever said, were only a lie!

Monday, October 06, 2014

The Chase


Picture Courtesy : Diba Raza
©

TIME -
He left a trail.
Like he knew people would come after him.
Slowly dance in the rain and tap to the rhythm.

He knew people would look for someone who held the future
Future that left behind Past - 
way behind, moved on as if it could never last.

A Lad, grabbed the moment, thought he held time in his fist
Got a company - a flying soul, held it strongly by its wrist
But like sand, time started slipping away
The boy wondered, what could make it work - his way.

He chased it. Chased it all over again. 
But everything vanished. It did not remain.
The dream which loped faster than light,
left behind darkness in a sorry, lonely plight

He traced the steps - foot by foot
challenged the racer, as firmly as he could
The end of the tunnel, transformed into Sun rays
The boy questioned, why did it haunt him, all the way?

Who was He? The runner? He said he was TIME!
He claimed he distanced, when he found people looking behind
The lad stood still, fathoming the moment that was there
TIME - like a butterfly, finally rested, with care!

Shrug off the Past - your Regrets, 
don't dwell on Future - your Pride!
TIME sat on his shoulder and said
"Now, my friend, I am on your side"

And then they walked together!



Thursday, July 24, 2014

Nexus

© Yamini
I opened the window, looked out,
for something more
than my eyes could see..
but a pretty painted wall
stood lifeless, as still
as it could be

a human trace, 
perhaps, a smile
or even a friendly stare..
A laughter here
a sob, or even
a few talks of care

But concrete jungle
stood all around
I felt a strange fear..
I wished for a human sight
instead some wires
dangled near

They weren't that bad
as I saw them talk
so blatantly to me
objects spoke
as living beings
they were all I could see

"Nexus", they hinted
the bond they had
it seemed so awfully strange..
we lack that bond
that empathy, that love
this is perhaps the"change"

Friday, July 11, 2014

The weakest link

Picture Courtesy : © Diba Raza

I am stuck onto you...
like a stone to a twig
you bear the weight of my soul
and never complain!

I have tangled and enforced
undone, reinforced
my love for you..
A thousand times and more
and you never refrain!

How do you define love?
People ask.
Letting go, or holding on?
You have let gone
You say!
You know what? 
I am still holding on! 

The mightier, prettier comforts, I don't see
You are my weakest link, 
they break you, they break me!

Friday, June 27, 2014

Passageway

Picture Courtesy: Diba Raza


You have been here many times...

they are always open - these passageways
you have walked and run
closed chapters...also begun
on your favorite cherished days..


Every time you leave

a debris lies behind
It has all sorts of things
some of it even sings
and few are ruins - unkind...

One day, strangely

there came a flood - untold
of emotions and tears
of insecurities and fears
Life stopped and I- turned cold


I closed a few doors

and decided to guard my soul
Stopped letting things in
ended stories, didn't let it begin
Until everything was in control

My breath suffocated me

the light seemed to depart
I finally kept the guards aside
opened doors, bright and wide
these are but passageways to my heart..

I let everything in, now

fearless, undaunted, some say
some luckily get a peek
sometimes vivid sometimes bleak
I rule my heart, my own passageway


Tuesday, June 24, 2014

Por...tu....gal!!!

And Ronaldo is not the only reason why I support Portugal. After this...



.... I support it even more ;) 

Wednesday, June 18, 2014

Wishful thinking!

©Yamini

Time between
work -
for naps and siestas
when people often grab 
a chance of reviving life..
Refreshing, relaxing, rejuvenating!

but I...
I push myself in to the depths of
vaguely arranged letters, so it may seem
to the hazy eyed.
transcending into the wonderland of
stories
where each page says
"turn me..
turn me now..
I hold a revelation for you"

I pass by each line, like it were 
a terrain -picturesque
in pursuit of cracking codes,
and finding treasures...

but then, duty calls... and i wonder
what if i get paid for 
reading and exploring
reading and exploring even more..

do you know of any such job?

Thursday, May 15, 2014

Antithesis

Picture Courtesy: Diba Raza

Sometimes it so happens
that life seems abundant
with pleasures and joy
and the heart yearns for 
less and less

We want something
that is not
and not something 
that is..

Like

an old man wanting to be young, 
young lad, wanting to be a child
a child wanting to grow old
and the antithesis of life shall bring us
to the crossroads....

where we could chose to be
what we are
yet we will desire
for what is not...

And towards the end, 
when leaves of Hope fall
A genesis shall rekindle
new hope and new love

Until then, we shall experience
restlessness in search of that peace...
A perfect antithesis!

Sunday, May 04, 2014

Surreal Sundays

Frankly, Blogger is not user friendly anymore. With most of the bloggers migrating to their own domains and people vouching for WordPress, I do feel there is a lot that goes into accessing a blogger site. I have always had a bias towards Blogger, but the more I use WordPress, more I like it there. 

That apart, there is no reason why I haven't updated this space in like 5 months now. Close to! 

I have been busy with another project that we took up called Oh! Womania and here's the wordpress link to the site --> http://ohwomania.wordpress.com

I must have written more serial fictions than actually published here. I feel sad and bad that I leave loose threads and don't take up the responsibility of mending them, on my own blog.

Apologetic? No! I guess.

Having, said all that, I would now wanna more to my own domain, and wordpress is calling. I shall have a new space of my own, soon and I have no idea how to go about it. I shall try and be more regular here meanwhile, because it feels terrible to be marooned alone in blogosphere. I know how AOO must feel like! :)

Hope you've been good! 

Google plus has made commenting really difficult, I know! So, I shall find an easy way out pretty soon. Hang in there!

Peace!!

Tuesday, January 28, 2014

Diary of a Compulsive Stalker - 2

Read Chapter 1

***

Painters are funny people. I turned out to be one funny chap. Really!!
I received a call the other day for judging an art competition. I laughed hysterically after I hung up on the dean.

"Mr. Zubein, we need artists like you to inspire our students", he said.

I hadn't laughed like this in a long long time. 

"Sure, I'll be there Sir. Please text me all the details", I responded decently.

"I will do that. Also, can I ask you to come for the event inauguration first, and I would be very glad if you could suggest a theme for the painting competition", he demanded more, as I heeded.

"No problem Sir. I shall be there", I had to sound amicable. 

He had bought 17 of my paintings for no good reason. I could go without work for so long only because he gave me money. Of course I don't see it that way. I earned it. But I knew what level of an artist I was. I deserved nothing! None of it - money or respect! But I got it anyway. So I made it a point to enjoy it. Humility pays nothing in this business.

"Sure. I do have something in mind. I'll come and address the students at the inauguration", I assured and continued with my internet browsing.

Social networking has its boons and banes. I looked for Bina's address and found it easily. She stays 4 bus stops away from me. The world is indeed a small place. She keeps checking-in in this one particular Costa Cafe, and I can guess easily that she stays somewhere around that coffee house. 

***

Mom has been a crazy woman ever since she became a mother, I believe.

"Zubi, look at this advertisement. Why don't you attend this interview?", she called out one day.

"Mom, I am not going to turn out like Dad. I don't want to be an accountant, fill ledger books and do the same thing over and over again for 40 years", I reasoned.

"How on earth are you going to have a steady income then?", she questioned.

"Mom, I sold my paintings last month, and with those earnings I can spend lavishly for another 3 months. My paintings go in lakhs. Dr. Diwan paid me 1 and half lakh for 3 paintings alone, last month", I explained.

"This is not a steady income. And which idiot buys paintings of nude girls for 1 and a half lakhs?", she sounded disgusted. 

"That's art Maa. Nude art. I am a graceful painter!", I explained, but failed to. She never understood me or my art. Not even when I tried to tell her about how I felt about certain things.

Nude artists are not appreciated much. I remember the first time I chose to stick with one color only. I used red to paint a woman. Shades of red, on canvas. Painting of a woman I saw in one of the B grade flicks of a South Indian movie. I took a still and painted her. Without clothes. I realized there was something that interested me. The divinity behind the entire creation of women is astonishing. I wanted to appreciate the beauty. I painted her in 3 hours. Straight. Most of the times, the most unassuming women of the lot interest me. This woman was one of them.

"Exquisite", I remember Dev complimenting me.

But I found it senseless. My painting did not impress me. I wanted to feel the rush within for having painted this sensuous woman whom I stared at for 5 hours and painted for 3. But nothing happened. 

Just like Bina. Would painting her mean anything? Would I want to see her naked? Posing for me? I would definitely want that. 

I went to Costa the next evening to find Bina. I wanted to apologize, so that she thinks of me as a good man. I am a good man, mostly, women refuse to agree. Ask Dev, he would vouch for me.

Dev....... Well....!!

"Why did your parents name you Zubein when you are not Muslim", he asked once. That was his very first question when we met. I concluded that this guy wouldn't be easy to deal with. He had already judged me on the basis of my name. 

"My mother was a Muslim, and my father is a Hindu. Now we don't follow any religion", I replied.

"That's weird", he exclaimed.

"What's weird? Religion is complicated. Love is simple. We follow latter", I defended, repeating what mom always said.

"Ok. Makes no sense. But people will think you are Muslim", he said.

"Would that really matter?", I asked.

"I should ask that!", Dev said.

"Well, I don't care. What's in a name after all...", I started quoting Shakespeare.

"....That which we call a rose, by any other name would smell as sweet", he concluded.

That's how I knew I could be his friend. He was opinionated. But he was still a guy who could be my friend. 

Bina was not in the cafe, when I entered. It was a weekday. A workday. Why should she be out in a coffee house? She must be at work. Looking pretty, scribbling her name on the newspaper, attending people. I sat there and ordered a coffee for myself.

I looked around. There was a girl who interested me. Unlike a real one, but a girl nonetheless. She kept tapping her foot while one foot rested on the knee of the other. She wore a huge-dialed watch. Her lose sweatshirt, made it difficult for me to categorize her. Her fingers, constantly moving on the phone. No nail paint. Her hair, falling on her face, short, blunt. She wore spectacles, and there was no sign of kohl. But... 

But her fragrance drove me crazy. As I tried to capture her picture on my phone, she looked up and walked towards me, realizing someone was clicking her. I looked at her. Intently. Her waist - brilliant. I was stuck on that.

I heard voices diminishing as she approached....


Dev should never know about this.

***

.....to be contd

Friday, January 24, 2014

Emptiness - 2

Picture Courtesy - Diba Raza
coffee table talks,
pick up lines in trend,
engaging discussions on life
sometimes, jokes on friends of friends!

laughter, joy - immeasurable
spills of drinks on the tray
brownie indulgence, unforgivable
knitting stories day after day

i pass by these coffeehouses
those empty tables stare
a silent laughter echoes, 
pricks a pretty memory somewhere

one day, after wrapping up the chores
and punching in swipe cards
we'll meet in leisure and talk
how life's been kind and hard

time please! from the game
I wonder, when again shall we meet?
these lonely tables, at coffee shop
meanwhile befriend the street!



***



PS: For the paglees in my life! <3





Saturday, January 18, 2014

Latest read!

I'll let the Saturday be silent, without much of a noise.. Here are some quotes from the book I am currently reading.. Norwegian Wood by Haruki Marukami..

“I was always hungry for love. Just once, I wanted to know what it was like to get my fill of it -- to be fed so much love I couldn't take any more. Just once. ” 

“What happens when people open their hearts?"..."They get better.” 

“The dead will always be dead, but we have to go on living.” 

“I've never met a girl who thinks like you."
"A lot of people tell me that," she said, digging at a cuticle. "But it's the only way I know how to think. Seriously. I'm just telling you what I believe. It's never crossed my mind that my way of thinking is different from other people's. I'm not trying to be different. But when I speak out honestly, everybody thinks I'm kidding or playacting. When that happens, I feel like everything is such a pain!” 

“It just happens to be the way that I'm made. I have to write things down to feel I fully comprehend them.  

And that's why I am totally loving this book.. I don't know if I am a good reviewer, because I end up loving all the books I read, but if these quotes inspire anyone, please do read the book! :)

Happy Weekend! :) 

Friday, January 17, 2014

Diary of a Compulsive Stalker - 1

"Zubein", I introduced myself as I stopped at the reception. 

"Please wait there Sir, while I let Mr. Tiwari know that you are here", she pointed at the seating area. 

Orange nail paint! White skin. Her fingers were beautiful. I thought, why didn't her face appeal at first? I stopped. Turned back. And looked. Looked at her. Her hair - tinge of brown. Eyes, un-kohled. Drab. Nose. Lips. I stared some more. I wanted her looks to attract me. I tried harder. Neck -sleek. A beautiful diamond pendant adorned the chain she wore. Did I notice her lips? I went up a tad. Stared. Just gloss - neat.... down to neck.... pendant!!  A nice neckline...further down.... Her breasts. I stared. How were they, I examined carefully as layers of clothes took its shape. 

"Excuse me Sir!", she interrupted. I looked up. Her face looked red, forehead tensed. Offended, was she?  Of course. I was staring, wasn't I? But what was it about her? Why wasn't she appealing? I had my questions. I wanted to explore more. So, where was I? Breasts. Yes! I looked down again. Decent, I concluded.. And..

"SIR", she yelled this time. I stood looking at her face, studying the details of her features. 

"Please leave!", she ordered. I continued looking at her. She picked up the phone and dialed a number. I smiled. I knew there would be ruckus after this. I silently picked up my bag, took the newspaper lying on her desk and left. I smiled at the watchman on my way out. 

I looked at the newspaper. "Bina Raj". There were repeated signatures in red ink, over the headlines. It was her name. A chill went down my spine. Her face didn't do that to me, what her name did. Bina Raj. I tried to recollect her face. I had forgotten already. 

While the lift zoomed down, I felt free, gravity playing its part. The whooshing sound of the fan was interrupted by Dev's call. I smiled. He always had the perfect timing. 

"So, when is it going to begin?", he asked, authoritatively. 

"I left already", I said as-a-matter-of-fact-ly.

"What? You had the call letter. They didn't let you in?", he questioned.

"I didn't reach till... you know...the interviewer", I started explaining.

"Why? Last when I called you said you were in the lift going to the office reception", he demanded an explanation.

"The candidate was already selected, so they asked me to leave", I told believably. He bought it.

"Oh no!", he was more disappointed than I was. Or was I?

"Zubein, you have to do something. Aunty keeps calling me up and says that you are not getting proposals for marriage because you don't have a steady income", he began the same old story.

"Blah, blah, blah, Dev", I interrupted. "I will get married when I want to. 30 is not an age where I have to start worrying about spending life and dying alone.", I used my usual guard. 

"Ok Ok.. We can talk about it later. Anyway, so what else? Anything interesting?", he changed the topic.

"Bina Raj", I said.

"Who is Bina Raj?", he asked. 

"Meet me this weekend, I'll introduce you to her", I replied.

"So you are making progress.. eh?. Aunty will be happy! Hope Bina doesn't have a problem with your unstable income", Dev teased. 

"Unstable income? Watch how she falls for me now", I reassured. 

Fall for me? Hahahaha.. No girl would fall for me. I am "Perversion Personified". I don't say it. Once a girl told me that. That's a nice description. I love titles. Specially given by women. Because they don't seem to give me anything else. So titles... so be it!

I hadn't fallen for that receptionist yet. Nothing about her interested me, except her name. Bina. Is it even an interesting name? Perhaps for my painting. I can call one of my paintings Bina. But what was wrong with her? She had the perfect set of fingers. Prettiest nail color, and...

May be I was pulled away before I could analyse her anatomy -below that diamond pendant. So, where do you live, Bina darling? 

www.facebook.com. My nerves ease, as I open her Facebook page and browse her pictures...

Dev should never know about this.

***

....to be contd.

Read Chapter 2

***

PS: 'Fictional Fridays' will feature the serial fiction -"Diary of a Compulsive Stalker" (DOACS), every Friday. This is chapter 1. Stay glued for more.