Strangers across the Room

Their eyes met at the campus bar. She was a slim petite girl. He had a broad muscular frame. At first instant, it was electric. A connection both felt. It would have been nicer if they had had a chance to talk.

She with her conservative upbringing was too shy to initiate contact. He was too skeptical to leap at the opportunity. It would have been nicer if they had had a chance to talk.

That night before sleep cradled her, she thought of what could have been. As he turned on his pillow, he wondered if he should have gone ahead and asked her out. It might have been nicer if they had had a chance to talk.

But then again, somethings in life are best left unsaid… There is a joy in incompleteness. There is a joy in the ‘could-have-beens’. In the memories which never took place…

A Heaven to Compare

There was once a guy named Janardhan
Worked hard each day from eight to seven
Sometimes even till eleven!
In the hope that he would end up in heaven

Grew up in scarcity,
In school he calculated mass, velocity, density,
One of the brightest there
Destiny still forced him on a path as only she may dare,

Till yesterday he ploughed hard his field,
Cursing God for unlucky seed,
Dependent on the monsoon for his bread,
A difficult and lonely path he tread

He wished for a better life,
Away from all the strife,
On the other side the grass is always green,
In his dreams he saw a place with great sheen

A place where water was aplenty,
and the girls were dainty,
If only he could go there,
How much better he would fare

Today he was struck by lightening,
Transported to Shangri-La, in a moment delightening.
Where even in his wildest dreams he’d never been,
Here the cows were plump and the fields were green,
And he should have been as happy as ever seen!

Ever so suddenly freed of his bind,
Something yet kept pricking his mind,
He was in heaven! But he didn’t have a clue
In his mind he was ever so blue

Until God thundered, “Why so serious?”
For, no wonder, He was furious,
“What kinda bloke pines in heaven?”
To which replied Janardhan,

“Mi’Lord you see,
Now that you mention this as heaven,
I wonder myself why happy can’t I be...”

“And this may sound sappy,
This place being so free of care,
But I can’t be happy,
Despite my humble home bare,
For I ain’t got another heaven to compare!”

The Dream II

I was standing at the cliff edge. The roaring sea far below, pounding in all its majesty to my right; a small hut behind my back on the left – a poor man’s shop offering some snacks and drinks. Shabbily laid out plastic tables, not exactly new and shiny, but still offering solace to the weary traveler, and a hot cup of tea with biscuits if he so wishes. The day was hot, and the three of us had come a long way. My companions till now were – my friend, a vastly more experienced person at this kind of a thing, pointing out to me all the perils that the way had brought, unfailingly, in a way that would not be possible unless it is from the very bottom of the heart; and then there was the guide. Rugged, acquainted with the way of the mountains as well as a mountain goat, unflinchingly leading us through valleys and passes, never once unsure of his footing; as though He himself had created the rocks which we trod upon.

The journey had been challenging, but it was all towards this end. It was here which would decide the destiny, the path of all that would matter. The way down to the sea was from the left, winding, across plateaus and mountain paths. It seemed reassuring, considering that the guide and the companion were both already heading down the path. Did that look like the best way for me? I had faithfully followed them this far, unquestioning and without any harm, but was that the right way for me? Or could it be that the time had come when we split, me heading out in the search of my own destiny.

Unthinking, I veered towards the cliff edge, the waves crashing at the bottom of the cliff, threatening, menacing and unforgiving. Losing my balance, I almost careened over the edge, when suddenly I heard my name called out from the distance. It jolted me back into conscious, but I had now seen over the edge of the cliff. I had seen the sheer face of the mountain. It stood gloriously, for all these years, withstanding all the battering of the sea, the yellow sandstone gleaming under the bright hot mid-day sun. Was this it? Was I meant to take the plunge? Wouldn’t it be much faster, if not a sure shot way to reach the sea?

Just as I stood contemplating all of this, clouds gathered in the sky. As if reflecting the tumult in my mind, the environment transformed. The wind started blowing across strongly, the waves, small and calm till now transformed into large ones, dashing against the rock displaying an anger known only to them. Beyond the mountain, a twister swirled into life. The monster started snaking its way towards the cliff as I watched, transfixed, rooted to the spot.

He veered towards the cliff, threatening to swallow my people in one gulp. As I glanced towards my left, I saw the desk, with my laptop calmly resting on top. In one moment, as if deciphering my attachment to it, he moved swiftly to swallow the desk – laptop and all, never to be seen again. As pangs shot across my heart, worrying next for my beloved, the devil circled about, waiting for me to make my next move. A look of fear must have flitted across my face, because even as I regained my composure, he seemed to sense my weakness and snort at me, a smirk almost discernable within the dusty folds.

Then I saw it. Beyond the hut and the twister, stood a building, on the leeward side of the mountain, away from the sea, protected from the elements by the mountain, playing shelter to scores of children.. In a flash, my life flashed before my eyes, it was time for Qayamat – the Final Judgement. I had to decide, what I would do next. I could still dive off the cliff, and in a moment all of this picture would be behind me. I would have to count on him to be taken by surprise, and follow me into my dive leaving the others alone. I had to trust myself to land safely into the sea. If my dive failed, it would still be over quickly, I would crash onto the rocks, still spared the pain of indecision. Or I could run and join my people, the same people who I had trusted through the entire journey, and who still looked beseechingly at me through frightened eyes, ever worrying for me, the soft kindness visible even through their dilated pupils, always wishing the best for me. But I knew what he was about to do. Even as these thoughts formed in my mind, he swirled to the building – as if following my instructions, tearing apart the building, hurling innocent children to the ground, mockingly inviting me to fight, to save them, to take on a might far beyond anything I had ever dared to in my young life…

The jigsaw called life

Recently I thought of an interesting idea. All of us has an ideal picture of how our life should be. Things are never in place from the start. Life is like a jigsaw puzzle: you discover the spot where a particular piece needs to go in at as you go along.

I have thought of my picture to be 3/4th complete. I have no clue whether it is or now, but thats the mental image I had. Suddenly, when least expected, another piece falls into place and you are left delighted, with the joy that only the puzzle solver can understand! Getting each new piece is a new challenge, maybe the first few are very simple - you go to school, make friends, choose your college and what you want to major in. Then you get a girlfriend, you get a job and so on. You probably question yourself as to whether she is the right partner for you, are you stuck in a wrong job. As you grow older, if you want your picture to be perfect, the pieces are more challenging to fit in.

Each one of us wants different things in life. Likely, even the same person wants different things in his life. Somewhat like suddenly discovering that the picture that you were making is actually just a small part of a larger picture. And then you move on and try to solve this larger jigsaw!

My question to you is: How much of your jigsaw do you think is complete?

Comments, please!

Colors of Fall

Colors of Fall

Random Musing #1

Why is it always that things that you want the most are the ones that you cannot have!

Is it because you cannot have them that you want them, or just that since you cannot have them, you feel that they are the ones you want the most ;)

Maybe, it is true that once you get something, the value of it in your eyes reduces!

On the same note: The fun is in the chase, not in the capture... Its the process which is fun, rather than the result.

Same reason why every job gets boring after a while. Initially you are learning new stuff, getting to do new things, however, as we spend more time on it, even the most interesting task becomes mundane, and we execute it like its a burden on us...

The Dream

The rain came down in thin streaks. The hooded figure continued to move forward through the darkness. At times, disappearing under the cover of darkness, at times illuminated by the yellow glow of the street light. Not once did it turn and offer me a look at the face inside the black cloak.

I continued following the figure - fascinated, transfixed - by the mystique, over the smooth pavement, across streets branching off to the left. The dark river gushed along the road to the right. Its gurgles strangely amplified by the silence of the dark night, sounding more eerie than ever.

The night was strangely windless, although the rain came down at an angle, its falling drops looking like tiny silver arrows in the halo around the street lamps.

The black figure continued silently through the night. Silent. Quiet. As fascinating as ever. Unquestioningly I followed. A strange warmth glowing inside my heart.

Then suddenly it disappeared. I searched the streets around. As I searched, I saw in the distance a figure, slumped across the steps to a dark green colored door, with a golden doorknob. I rushed there and turned the crumpled body. A scream of horror escaped my mouth as I saw the face behind the hood. It was a ghostly white, contorted into a smile, a mocking, cruel smile – not unlike the clown in a circus. No, this could not have been that.

Just as I gave up hope and turned back, I saw the swish of a black cloak vanishing behind the corner. I ran in that direction, leaving behind or caution, or premise of it, splashing through the muddy puddles created by the rain, running through the equally muddy rivulets of water – towards the street along the river. The rivulets were ominously flowing in the direction away from the river.

As I turned the corner, I caught sight of the figure again walking steadily ahead at a distance. It did not seem to notice the noises that I made, mindlessly walking its own way, pace steady. The urge to see the face behind the hood irresistible, I hastened even more, catching up with it at long last. Somehow, I did not have the mind to peer into the face although I was now walking along with it now. I was content, walking up the hill, not speaking a word, not caring where the hood was taking me.

At the top of the hill, I could see a house. It shone bright in the wild night. A lamp hung outside, steady and warm in the night air. I could feel its warmth despite the distance.

Then the hood suddenly crumpled to the ground. Then there appeared the full moon in a half clouded sky, and the hood rose and made its way towards the heavens. As rigid as if made from rock, as smoothly as a ghost ship sailing into the sky. And I was left in the middle of a small clearing in the woods, the house-light still shining in the distance.

And as we wind on down the road
Our shadows taller than our soul.
There walks a lady we all know
Who shines white light and wants to show
How everything still turns to gold.
And if you listen very hard
The tune will come to you at last.
When all are one and one is all
To be a rock and not to roll.