Lunch Break

I know when she has her lunch. When I’m in class. She apparently doesn’t have breakfast. So what does she do? I can’t understand why it took me more than a month to figure out her routine. I was lost in some Wonderland. It was so simple, so clear cut…so easy. It always has been. Why was I going through the misery of uncertainty? If I didn’t know why I kept thinking of her, I could have always asked her.

Maybe I don’t want ours to be the world’s shortest love story. What is a tale without twists and turns? Without trials and tribulations? Even if it were to end on a sad note, why miss out on the journey? Love is what makes the journey worthwhile, no matter how short. Love is what makes the ending sweeter, no matter how bitter. Do we embrace finally and blow ourselves up? Or do we embrace, get married and lead an extraordinary life together? Love, a convenient term for such varied emotions and outcomes can surely then, just about do anything it feels like.

Random Rumblings

“Why have you called me here?”

“What do you mean? So you seriously don’t know?”

“I can’t believe I actually agreed to meet you.”

“Ok look. You have some serious misconceptions that need to be cleared. About me ofcou-“

“Of course. Yes, I have great misconceptions. But I don’t think I will believe anything else. Especially if it comes from you.”

“You think I really give two shits about you? I’m here to set the record straight bec-“

“Because your public image is so damn important. But you work so well in the background. But Priya obviously is still oblivious...”

“Don’t drag Priya into this”

“What else have I got to do with you, if its not about Priya, then what?”

“You have been bitching about me”

“Aren’t you thrilled?”

“Get over Priya.”

“I have, but I don’t think I’ll forget you. Which is very unfortunate.”

“Priya has moved on. So should you. Stop bringing the past back. Everyone has the right to make a judgement. That’s what I did, but that was a long time ago..”

(softly) “You still don’t think you were wrong…tell me.. am I right?”

(long pause)

(continues, shouts) “Am I right Sneha? Or will I never be? Huh??? WILL I EVER BE RIGHT!!?? EVER??”

Star Struck

I stared at the stars tonight for a long time and could not remember the last time I was emotional, especially in front of someone else. Casual tears at a touching thought did not count. How did crying alone matter? Was falling in love the same as being emotional?

I dreaded at this prospect. A creepy chill began working its way up my spine. The stars were so perfectly oblivious and blissful in their starry magnificence, so comfortable… How long was I to remain in my own comfort, my own bliss? Sooner or later, I had to become human again. I would need to cry again, be afraid, be anxious, and long for someone, care for someone, miss someone, and love like all humans do, like they should do, no matter how scary it gets, no matter how uncomfortable it may become…

A Late Date

I am contemplating being late for school again. Not that I have to try too hard, but it is quite an unsettling thought. My incentive is that I may meet her again. There is a risk of bumping into some other prefect. And what are the odds it was going to be someone like her? I wasn’t looking for anyone else anyway. Obviously I didn’t have a thing going for female prefects. I don’t think mysterious, rustic, charming and absolutely stunning eyes was one of the criteria for becoming a prefect. Such perfect prefects were probably extinct.

There is nothing sexy about being late, or being booked for it. I should not push my luck. I have a feeling I have it in abundance. And if you have it in abundance, why push it? Just go with the flow. Live in the present moment. This very moment, I need to stop thinking and get out of bed.

Reality bites and not the dog

I returned to the Park in a conclusive mood. I thought enough had happened in the past week to be fodder de rigueur for a Robin Cook masterpiece. Mustering enough courage for my fourth pull-up, I heard a wild animal's bark behind me grow louder with the passing moment.

I dropped from the bar and turned around just in time to side step the huge and undoubtedly gargantuan German shepherd. A short, skimpy girl skipped quickly to her protégé’s side, and patted it reassuringly, herself out of breath too. An air of amusement and ridiculous hilarity hung loosely in the air. She caught my glance fleetingly in between gasps, and horrid lovemaking (read licking) between mistress and pet.

I believed she had to be apologetic. "He's massive," I said.

"It's a she. But she doesn't bite." With that, she got up, adjusted her flimsy spectacles and gave me the same reassuring smile she flashed while cuddling her bitch. Her fair clear skin glistened remarkably well under a slight layer of perspiration.

But something was amiss. I didn't care about the apology. Maybe it was the way she adjusted her spectacles. Not like I had never seen anything like it. Maybe I had, even subconsciously, leveraging my interest in someone else. Maybe, while observing this someone else, I must have noticed her too. She must have been prominent and close enough to this someone else to have caused me this strange empty feeling. The same feeling you get when you are tired, but can't sleep, and the thought of not being able to sleep for the entire night makes the whole prospect not only daunting, but infuriatingly frustrating as well.

I must have been in this observing business for a long, long time, because she just walked 10 paces before turning around to look at me, and then realise and acknowledge my presence. Her slight nod was like a stamp of approval over my soul or perhaps my intentions. Maybe it was a stamp of disapproval.

I lost interest in any further exercise. I was mentally drained. The dog didn't bite, but her owner sure did.

Soccer Socials

I played the usual Sunday game, with higher expectations of myself. I had to pass the ball better, dribble more flamboyantly, and more importantly, maintain my stamina. But before anything else could begin, some unknown guy walked up to say hello.

He looked nerdy, stiff, unsure, yet he was smiling foolishly. He thought he knew me.

"Hi...I'm Sheetal's brother."

"That's great."

I didn't have the heart to ask who she was. And then the match started, and I forgot all in the flurry of activity- shouting, the heat, and strained muscles. Mentally exhausted after 30 minutes, I trotted up to this unknown, who was the goalie in my team. He had let in 8 goals, and I thought it would do him good to get his mind away from our team's depressing state.

"Hi, so tell me, who IS Sheetal?"

His expression turned to shock and disbelief. And as if to knock some sense into me, by Providence Divine, the ball screamed across my ears, missing me by inches. And of course, goal number nine.

But this time, it was my fault. It seemed that I had a lot to learn.

The Place of Peace

I'm jogging on a beaten path and as the polluted evening air wears me down, I see this beautiful whitewashed building, standing majestically, concealing a greatness within its isolated appearance. I had never noticed this building. The long grass, dancing with gaiety in the soft wind, ironically begs of ignorance...

I don't want to go home. I want to enter this building. I don't care what the long grass says or means. I see a plaque. A shiny stone. This is a place of peace, and it has a beautiful name- 'Radha Satsang Samiti' . A religious and holy place, because many holy acts must have occurred here. Now I recall someone telling me that they serve lunch here every Sunday, sponsored by some benevolent family every week. They say that the food is delicious. To the Hindus, it is prasadam, or 'food offered to the Lord'. It is strictly vegetarian. I see a sign, asking for volunteers to help out every week. Service to fellow mankind or seva is Man's highest form of duty or dharma. An old man approaches me slowly from the shadows. He flashes a deep warm smile, and whispers something in my ears in halting, broken English.

"Shee very nice...no speak, only smile…very nice. Every week, she comes…very nice.."

He had probably noticed me looking at the sign. From what I could understand, there weren't many volunteers to be found every Sunday, perhaps, only one, the nice girl...

And out of the blue, "What's her name?"

He nods quickly, grabs my arm gently, and directs my attention towards another notice board. There are several photographs pinned in a random manner.

It was the prefect at school, seemingly pleased, happy and blissful. Well, at least I knew she could smile. A genuine, affectionate one, and very much unlike the one I faced on our first meeting.

A Colourful Morning

I dreamt of white flowers, and slippery snakes slithering up to my feet, and then vanishing one by one. And so, when I woke up and left for school, I immediately found who I was looking for. She came close enough for my comfort, didn't really look at me, but her small notebook, writing something feverishly.

"What are you writing?" I said.

"The time," she replied. "What's your name?"

I had never been so excited at the prospect of being late, and being booked for it. I tried to get to her eyes, but they impatiently dodged mine. I smiled broadly. She indeed was trying to act firm, authoritative and yet she failed miserably, at least in my mind.

"Please tell me your name."

"I will if you tell me yours-"

"Hi Parag! You late too? Cool..." shouted someone from behind.

I didn't bother turning around. I knew who it was, and I hated him for spoiling my effervescent and charming conversation on a beautiful sunny morning. As I made my way to class, trodding backwards, keenly observing her for the last time, I spotted an alluring sparkle in her demeanour. Silent pride, well, very clever...

With mixed emotions, I floated up the stairs, my head in a whirlpool of colour. We were far from over. I, at least, was wearing the colour pink...

I don't get the ending

Suicide bombers...ah, perpetual fools who will be born again and again, and commit the same mistake, and suffer the same karmic consequences...and so, after watching two lovers, one, a die hard nationalist news reporter for All India Radio, and the other, an equally tragic heroine for the separatists in Kashmir, blow themselves up, instead of the masses at India Gate during the Republic Day parade, I wonder whether the sanctity of life is understood by those overcome by passion, not logic. So beautiful people are vulnerable, capable of not only harming the public, but also themselves, albeit in a rush of emotion. But she was not only beautiful, she was raw and pure. The sound of these words itself gives me a high. Raw and pure... A ticking bomb inside me finally called it a day. I exploded into the realm of life's surreal consciousness. Was I safe and secure, surely, there must be so many like her in this country as well? We don't need mountains and great scenery to make a mess out of ideology. Urban centres. High-density places, and all we need is someone determined, brainwashed...brainwashed, yet innocent, crazy yet beautiful someone totally out of the blue, could be anyone, could it be you?

The film that started it all

I’m sitting melancholy, frustrated at the lack of adventure and romance these past few days. so much bickering and bitching going on. Just barely survived some stupid outburst by some wannabe babe, I mean all I said was...anyway, I'm not going to waste my energy on her...I'm munching on a carrot now, crazy heat, nothing is on television...oh wait. What was that? Shahrukh Khan? The famous Bollywood star!! Yeah, so what? He's been famous for the past 10 years. Ha! But this trailer looks sleek, and my, what music...must be AR Rehman...yes, it is!!! Some bombs going off, fallen autumn leaves showering the embracing couple, as the mountains vividly rush past...another bomb!! But nobody seems hurt...soldiers now, marching past, so much fire, seems agonising, painful, yet something romantic, some binding energy permeating throughout the trailer. There’s no one in the room. I think I’m back in Kashmir now, the once peaceful place...