Mothers and Sons

Mac hated his birthday. Especially for the last 8 years. He dreaded these visits.

'Don’t I give her enough money? Don’t I pay for those AC rooms and 24 hour attendant service? For God’s sake, she has a TV with cable in her room and so many people of her own age group. Why do I have to go to see her on my Birthday?'

'If I have to clock in those suffocating 10 minutes there then I better get it done with. I have been doing this for 8 years now. I better get used to it.'

He was through with the ritual in exactly 8 minutes after reaching the Old Age Home.

He walked towards his car, with that hated box in his hand.

He knew what was inside it.


'If she HAS to give me a cake then can’t she at least order it from an upscale bakery? Why does she have to bake the cake herself in the kitchen of the facility? Who eats this stuff now? loaded with sugar!'

The cake annoyed him more than his mother’s praises and kisses. His wife was right. He shouldn’t have come.

But then, his mother would refuse to eat and cry non-stop. And then she would have to be admitted in the hospital.

That would be really bad for PR.

After all, he was the VP of the biggest law firm in the city. Or perhaps in the whole state.
He put the box on the passenger seat of his dark Mercedes and drove towards his office. He never took his driver during these yearly visits. He knew how people talked.

Slowly, his mind focused on the day ahead. He had lunch scheduled with a client and then party in the night.
That’s how you celebrate your birthday. Not at a place full of dying people.

He stopped the car just outside his office and picked up the box.

He threw it straight into the garbage bin at the curb. It landed noiselessly, cushioned by the rotting refuse of the city.

A perfect shot.

He was an expert now. He had been doing it for 8 years now. Every year, the box went into that bin.

He drove on, forgetting all about it.

He never saw a pair of tiny hands reaching into the bin. Never saw a pair of eyes shining bright, half with tears and half with anticipation.
The kid could hardly reach it.

His face lit up as soon as he took the box out.

'I knew it!'

He jumped with joy, forgetting his filthy hands and tattered rags. Forgetting the fact that he had not eaten in 2 days.

Forgetting the cold. Forgetting everything!

He opened the box and there it was!

MAC

Written with frosting over the cake!

Exactly the same his mom would get for him every year! From the same place!

She had told him that an angel came and gave it to her for her little son on his birthday, every year!

'She must have told the angel to bring the cake even if she is not there!'

'Mom did not forget my 8th birthday! She could never forget!'

He stopped for a moment... closed his eyes and raised his face towards the sky. Someone had told him, that's where the God fellow lived.

"Thank you Mom. I love you. And I miss you. Please come back soon! "


And then he shoved a tiny fistful of cake in his mouth.


Not really bothering whether the cake bore his name or if it was the other way round.

----------
© 2009 by Chhaya. All rights reserved

image by Elizabeth Nourse (La Mère)

PS: Happy New Year to all my friends :)

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Indemnity

"We are very sorry for your loss, Mrs Varghese. "

Sam’s colleagues were leaving.

Lisa nodded, wrapped in the mourning blacks. The house was still filled with concerned neighbours and friends. They had just returned from the cemetery after burying him.

Her husband.

The only man she had ever fallen in love with. They were married for 18 years...
He was dead.

Brutally murdered.

"Tsk tsk... I feel so bad for her. Such bad luck she has. First her elder daughter committed suicide and now her husband is dead. The robber could have just taken the money and valuables. Why did he have to kill him? " Old Mr. T said with tears in his eyes.

"Yeah! I heard! Some people say she was pregnant when she set herself on fire. In their own backyard! Is it true? "

"Yes. She was just 15!" Someone added.

"At least Lisa still has Mia, her younger daughter." Mr. T was rubbing his eyebrows.

Lisa walked into the living room.

"Shhhhh! She can hear you!" Mrs. T snapped.

She did hear. And she thought about her dead daughter. Her own flesh and blood. Her first born.

Two years had gone by, but she could still hear her screams.

They had never found even a suicide note.

But she didn’t need one now.

Everything had fallen into place two nights back, when she saw ...

She entered Mia’s room. Her 5 year old daughter was still sleeping. Heavily sedated. She had not spoken a word since..

Lisa’s eyes wandered towards the photograph clutched in Mia’s tiny arms. It was the last picture she had taken of her two daughters.

Very gently, she pried it out. It felt warm. Just like the blood on the knife when she had dropped it in the gutter before calling the police.

"He will never be able to do it to Mia. I promise you. It’s over." She whispered, more to herself than to the innocent smile, captured in the picture.

And then she cried... like she had never cried before.

-------------------------------------------------

© 2009 by Chhaya. All rights reserved

PS: the image is googled.

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Sisters

She watches the little one,
looking out of the window.
The worn out doll,
clutched tight.
Too young to understand, yet
deep within, does she know?

Her heart aches more than her arms,
cradling the kid all night long.
Having to grow up in a moment,
her own childhood gone.
The tears remain unshed,
for ever and more.

"Can you call mommy again?
She should be home by now."
Innocent eyes look up to her.
Trusting the world’s
convenient lies.

She tries to hold her close
and whisper the truth,
as it should be told.
"She won’t answer the phone, little one.
Mom is not coming home anymore"

© Chhaya


image by William Adolphe Bouguereau (Two Sisters)

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the Month of the Departed

Yes, I have always had this habit of vanishing without a warning. I am like this even in my offline life. Sticking to one thing and one place has always been a struggle for me. Strings scare me. Visible or otherwise.

Still, if you wanna know why I have been inactive for almost a month, then here are a few reasons I can think of –

First of all, work pressure was simply mind-numbing. I was trying hard to find that 1441st minute in the day. Never could.

And then I fell sick. I mean, really sick. (why does the word –sick, always sound like a dirty word to me?) Fever, cold, cough, breathing troubles and an insane headache that simply refused to go away. Had a Swine Flu scare too, but thankfully I didn’t have H1N1 infection. It was perhaps just the simple Flu trying to tell me that it can be as painful as the Pig version!

But the most disturbing thing that happened was that one of my Grandparents passed away. I know, Death is inevitable. I have no beef with the Grim Reaper. We have made our peace a long time back.

December is the month when he likes to visit. Plucking away a few people from my life.

I have lost too many to this Month. People who mean something to me. Sometimes more than something. Its the Month of the Departed for me....

A friend asked if we were close. I found myself at loss for words. How close is considered to be close? If you go by the society’s parameters then I don’t think I am close to anyone in my life. There is just 1 exception to that. If you know me then you know who that person is.

I am still to shed a tear. Don’t think I am going to. (I can sense one of my regular readers shaking his head and saying – u gotta cry girl). The reason is – I had sensed it coming. I knew I was going to lose that person. I had even talked about it with one of you. And this is the part that disturbs me the most. Every time I am about to lose someone, or every time something terrible is going to happen to me, I always sense it a few days in advance. I don’t know how it happens. Perhaps it happens to everyone.

I never try to stop it from happening or think about it like they show in the movies. It’s disturbing.

There is more to write, but I am saving it for the next post. Gotta have something to share :)

Love
Chhaya

The image is Googled

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Ecstasy

Yes, I know, I have been really irregular. But no, this time I wasn’t travelling or recharging my batteries by going off the grid. As some of you know, workload has been really brutal. There are days when I have to manage with 2-3 hours of sleep (with dreams full of dancing numbers and data :D).

Last couple of day were different.

12th Nov, I was trying to stay afloat, juggling a million things and was cribbing to E about a faulty link @ cricinfo (I am a big time cricket fanatic, in case you didn’t know).

He asked me a question - heard of kluelesS?

I hadn’t. ( I was prepared for a round of – How lame! You don’t even know KluelesS! Hawww! Shame Shame! from his side. The usual. But I guess he was too busy himself to throw some class insults :P)

Klueless 5 a kind of puzzle, with several insane levels to crack (in case you don’t know), hosted by the IIM guys. It’s an annual event.

E sent me the link and as soon as I saw the Klueless 5, I knew I was in trouble. The guy indeed knows some of my weaknesses and I am sure he was trying to get me fired. ( he almost got his wish!!!)

Level 1 to Level 38.

There were some pictures and some clues (some of them pointing in the wrong direction). You don’t even know what you are looking for!!!! There are text boxes that can’t be typed in and there are buttons that can’t be clicked.

It took me 3 days to solve it. Yes, I could have done it in 2, but then gotta work and take care of other things.

One fact that amused me was that I was getting slightly sad when I reached the level 38.
The ecstasy of solving those crazy puzzles was coming to an end. As usual, my over analytic mind went into searching for parallels. And I thought, is this why the Joker didn’t wanna kill Batman? Is this why Sherlock Holmes would look for heroine when he had no exciting case to solve?

And then i realized. They don’t exist. I do. What does that make me? Insane, as some would love to point out..

Every time I crib about work –pressure, I am keenly aware of the fact that at least 40% of it is because I am addicted to things that make me think.

How can I forget the way I slept like a baby after cracking 6 levels of Klueless 5 in one hour. My mind was satisfied. It was a high like no other.

And now I am thinking.... what now?

I envy those people who can actually enjoy a day off. I am so jealous of those who can wake up at 11 am on a Sunday. My eyes are open at 6 and my mind never sleeps...

Has anyone ever died of thinking too much? :)

Just a thought


Love

Chhaya
btw, my blog has been featured. Click here to read/leave a word there.


PS: I know, this post is very different from what I write. Hope you are not too disappointed.

PS: I am not posting the answers/hints to Klueless 5 levels here as it attracts misdirected hits. I don’t want crowd.
In case you wanna solve it. Here is the link – (HOF was filled even before I started, so don’t dream about it)

And no, don’t expect help from me. It’s something you must do on your own.

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Temptations

People do strange things when they are away from home. She was no exception. The girl hated sugar or milk with her coffee, but there she was, in a strange country, sitting with her feet tucked in, trying hard to keep warm with a steaming mug held in her hands.
She had roamed around the tiny kitchen, preparing it. Milk and sugar. Her mind, wandering. As usual.

Coffee... not the way she liked it.

Coffee... just the way she wanted it. Right at that moment.

Her eyes watering. Not with tears. She never cries. It was just the freezing wind. She was sitting in the open balcony. Fighting the cold. Refusing to get inside. Just another of her testing-my-will-power things. She wasn’t even aware of the fact that she was being stubborn.. it was a second nature. It was what kept her going. Yes. She is insane. Just kind of.

She takes the first sip... as if giving into some strange and exotic temptation. Hey eyes remain focused on something just above the horizon. It’s nothing.

A sigh. Inaudible. She forgot the sugar. Years and years of sugarless coffees can do that to you. Even when you wanna add some sweetness, you go for the bitterness.

Is it hardwired in our souls, running away from temptations? Anything and everything that feels nice? No?

What’s the biggest fear? Not finding something you were looking for... or finding it and then lose it. We have had generations brought up to the thought that the one who resists the temptation is a saint.

The one, who doesn’t give in, is the strongest.

Is it so?

Is she the strongest? Not giving in. Never giving in.

Don’t you think that the strongest person is the one who dares to trust? The one who gives in, tries to live the life to the fullest.. instead of building a fort around, keeping the elements away. Good or otherwise.

She thinks about getting up. She wants it. Her feet refuse to move.

Too much of effort for a bloody spoonful of sugar.

I don’t exactly need it.

Too many years spent on separating the needs from wishes.

Who makes the segregation? What is so different between the needs and wishes?

Her mind wanders again. The familiarity of the bitter coffee is reassuring. The thoughts of sweetness start to fade. She is content.

How many dreams have you given up on? How many chances have you let go? Of a life you wished for. Of a person you dreamt of.

How many perfect ending have you ran away from?

Why?

Settling for the second best. Settling for something that you never wanted... never wished for.

Why?

The perfection is elusive. Yes. It’s always a comforting thought, to know that it wasn’t the perfect one that failed you.

It’s easy to blame the second best.

It’s easy to settle for something less than your dreams. You get someone to blame.

There isn’t much coffee left in the mug now. She looks away from the horizon, down at her hands. The fingertips are all pink. It’s the cold. Too cold.

She takes another sip.

And the realization dawns ...

the sugar, now half melted, sits at bottom.
The sugar that she wished for.
The sugar that was always there.
Never stirred.....

The coffee is way too sweet now... She puts it away...

A sly grin dances on her lips....

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The Nightmare

One more day..
One more smile..
I live in that place, between
dawn and the daybreak.
Trying desperately,
to stall the time.
Stolen moments..
too fragile for dreams.
Wrapped in your arms,
watching you sleep

Shy, the rain giggles,
caressed by
the lovelorn wind.
I blush, watching
the lines of your face..
and the smile on your lips.
Your heartbeats,
talking to my fingertips.

Shadows rustle,
monsters insane.
Pulling me away,
from you yet again.
I close my eyes,
too scared to scream.
And then I feel you,
whispering so softly -
“Hush my baby,
it’s just a bad dream”

© 2009 by Chhaya. All rights reserved
PS: the image is googled

This is my 25th poem on this blog (counting the haiku efforts as 1 poem). I was going to post a different one, but then thought that the silver jubilee thing shouldn’t be too dark. Thank you everyone, for being such good friends... This one is for you all...

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Just Friends

The smiles we shared
and some tears unshed.
´Just friends´
with a shrug of shoulders,
Always, we claimed.

My heart never stopped,
when you held me close.
It was bliss.
You were my home.
The extension of my soul.

Your thoughts never
made my nights sleepless.
Far away, in the darkness,
endless conversations.
Eloquent silence.

Losing you to the sense
of wrong and right,
isn’t the end of the world.
Then why to me
it feels like?

© 2009 by Chhaya. All rights reserved
PS: the image is googled

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The Coward

Don’t take it away from me
this armour I have
made painstakingly
through the nights so lonely
with every moment I waited
for someone like you

Now that you are here
I am scared of
losing my heart
to the one made for me
You are too sacred
to be touched.
I am too greedy
to let go.

I don’t know why
I need this distance
am I scared of getting
my heart broken?
or is it your soul
I want to spare?
walking away from you
waiting for you to
pull me close
fighting your love
longing for the defeat

Will you know when I
fake a heart of stone
and see through the curtains of
my words so cruel?
will you read my eyes
and stay
or will you let me win
and wither away?

© 2009 by Chhaya. All rights reserved
PS: the image is googled

i know this poem doesnt rhyme much.. this is how it was supposed to be

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The Ladakh Diary – Starting with the End!

It was the longest vacation of my life. Two weeks of huffing and puffing – Ooh! and Aaahs! – Oops and ‘Lord have mercy’. The scariest roads I had ever been on, the most beautiful places I had ever been to. It’s not possible to describe it in words, even for a so called poet/writer like me. Still, I will try my best to paint a few pictures and share those I clicked during the tour.

Why with the end?

I am starting this tour-diary with the entry reserved for the last post in the series. The reason – I was unfortunate enough to be booked on a Jetlite flight from Srinagar to Mumbai.
Now for the people who have no clue what I am talking about, Jetlite is an airline owned by the Jet Airways. Most of the pilots of the Jet were on a 5-6 days long strike and as a result it took me 14-15 hours to reach Mumbai.

Fasten your seatbelts for a long and boring post full of cribbing.
Actually I wanna get over with this part cz I don’t wanna end my Ladakh diary on a bad note. So bear with me

False sense of Security

It was the 11th September – the one bad day you can pick to fly from the most disturbed area of India – Kashmir.

I knew my 2:30 pm direct flight to Mumbai will be cancelled but Jetlite did not bother to send any mail/sms/call. I made it to the Srinagar airport by 10 am so that I can check the status. We were stopped at two places outside the premises and our bags were x-rayed, our backpacks checked and we were frisked (so sad, my name is not SRK or I would be getting so much publicity by now). The frisking was very revolting, especially for me as I have severe ‘Personal Space’ problem. But I totally understand the need for security.

Overall, I was made to go through 6 security checks – 4 frisking. I would not be cribbing about it but in the end I found it all very useless cz even with all the touching, the frisking was done very immaturely. The worst part was – there were no demands for a photo ID!! I could have been absolutely anyone. Even a Pakistani and they wouldn’t know.

False Promises

I was promised a flight to Mumbai as mine was cancelled. Jetlite promised that my flight (scheduled at 3 pm) will stop at Jammu and Delhi but will ultimately go to Mumbai and I won’t have to get off from the plane. I confirmed the same with more than 5 Jet personnel. All said – Yes Yes. You won’t have to get off before Mumbai.

All Lies.

The cafeteria had stale food! We were famished by the time the flight was announced at 3:30 pm. Even with all the problems, I was really happy that finally the flight was taking me home. I was dying to see friendly and smiling faces.. (

The unwanted

The Jetlite flight decided to take all the passengers of a cancelled Kingfisher flight (the Kingfisher passengers all got complimentary snacks .. hehehe... never mind).

To my utter horror I realized that there were people sitting on the seats allotted to us on our boarding pass!! The very rude airhostess of Jetlite tried to sushhh me in a corner. It was the last nail in the coffin of my patience level. I told her clearly that I was gonna stand in the aisle unless she solves my problem.

No response. Not even a Plastic smile on her face! The Lady pretended to be deaf!
After 10 minutes she said – All the empty seats are free. Go sit anywhere. I knew that very moment that the flight was not going to Mumbai after all. I asked the flight supervisor – Some more false promises.

Alien in our own country!!?

During the flight the guy sitting in my row asked for a sandwich. The air-hostess said they only had cold beverages. To my surprise, I saw her serving a chicken sandwich to a foreigner sitting just in the front seat!! I Wonder why he was denied the food. He was certainly willing to pay for it!

As I knew, we were dumped in Delhi. The PA system announced that the Kingfisher passengers going to Chennai were to remain seated and the Bangalore passengers were to contact ground staff. No announcement for the Mumbai passengers. We had to get down and ask a staff standing near the plane who was equally rude and foul mouthed.

Getting Dumped, rather unceremoniously

It was raining and the city was colder than Srinagar at that moment (thank god I had a jacket in my backpack). Our luggage was still inside the plane. Promises were made again that it will reach Mumbai and we will be boarding a plane at 8:30 pm.

We were about 8-10 Mumbai bound passengers. We had no clue what to do next, whom to contact!

We raced from the arrival terminal to the departure terminal for our flight to Mumbai. No transportation was provided. There were two really old ladies... I wonder how horrible they were feeling.

Losing my temper

By this time I was full of anger. I started hunting for a person-in-charge but all we got was – Go to that counter – Go to this counter. Even the ground staff in-charge of our case was too rude, callous and @$%@^%#%^.

I told them clearly that I was not gonna board any flight unless I got my complaint registered.
In the end, I finally found a person in charge who heard me. Noted down my complaint and then called the night-manager of the staff. I was so angry - I could feel my hands shaking. I told them that I totally understand their problem due to the pilot strike but it does not give then an excuse to lie to passengers and be soooooooo rude to them.

Made a formal complaint against the ground staff and the cabin crew members – with their names. (thank god for the name tags)

Home Sweet Home!

Got some extra special treatment after that. written apology letter was offered - upgraded to the full service level – the manager personally escorted to the special bus to the next plane etc.
In the end, with all the delays, it was 1 am when I made it home. 15 hours after reaching Srinagar Airport

man... was I happy to see the chaos called Mumbai!!!!

Love
Chhaya

PS: I got it all out in this post and now from the next post of the Ladakh Diary, you will get to read more interesting things with better pictures! The new header of the blog is the picture I took in Leh.

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Take My Breath Away

Okay.. so my last poem was a dud ... agreed. The story behind it is – someone reminded me of the fact that I was only writing about three topics..... so, I tried writing about the things I don’t exactly feel.. hence the disaster.

Psst Psst...what I am trying to say is – Blame Him! Not Me!

Atonement was close to my heart but The Glass Window was a faked pain. I guess that is even worse than faked pleasure.

Life or my lifestyle has never stopped me from getting soaked in the rain or getting my feet dirty. Playing with kids or sing along a corny Bryan Adams song like ‘Let’s make a night to remember’ ... I actually do every mad thing that comes in my mind. That includes talking to my pet fish and going out for ice-cream at midnight. (I guess it explains my insanely accident prone nature, but more about that later)

Anyways.. so, a few days back, I was in my ‘cocoon’ mood. You know, the days when you just don’t wanna talk to nobody (pardon my double-negative.. sometimes wrong things make the most sense). It hadn’t rained for more than a week. The evening was slightly lost in the heat of the day.

Was home alone so I did what I do when such an evening arrives. Made a big mug of coffee and then sat by the window. My building is in this huge residential complex with gardens and pools. There is a playground right in front and I could watch the kids playing. Everyone had a hankie tied to his face, what with the swine flu scare.

The coffee was awesome.. first two teaspoons of the newly opened Coffee jar without milk or sugar to corrupt it. Just pure tantalizing smell of individuality. Have you ever wondered how the Ad agencies target families with tea and individuals with coffee??
Hmmm.. heck.. I think too much..

So what happened was – the rain came lashing down on the parched earth and the air was completely fragrant with the smell of first rain.. second time in one Monsoon .. whoa!! .... My heart went - 'thud' and I was thrown back into my childhood.

Good smell has always been the biggest turn on for me after thunders and storms. May be it is because we tag those forgotten memories with them. I cant smell Old Spice aftershave without my mind going to my Dad.. Freshly made Roti (Indian bread) never fails to remind me of Mom.. Smell of coffee and new book go together reminding me of every moment alone...

Funny, the way smells instantly bring back memories.. some pleasant, some unpleasant.. some that you don’t even wanna acknowledge


Love
Chhaya

PS: the image is obviously googled

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The Glass Window

Children of the street
dance in the first rain,
Screaming with delight.
Barefoot and half naked.
Surrounded with the comfort,
of money and fame..
I steal greedy glances through
the impersonal window frame.

Safety of Grandma’s arms and
the beauty of her weathered face -
I am trying to remember,
fighting hard to forget.
Trapped in the addictive -
golden coffin of success,
I live my death
in tiny instalments.


© Chhaya
I forbid any comparison between Slumdog Millionaire and this poem... :

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Being a Freak... getting Personal

If you have followed my blog during last (almost) 2 years then you may have noticed that I am not very regular. I tend to vanish for weeks, sometimes months. The problem is – I find it really difficult to open up in front of others. No, I am not afraid of talking to strangers.

There have been times when I have walked up to a complete stranger and asked – “hey, from where did you buy that T-shirt”... (the guy was totally shocked when I did that .. lol...). I maintain full eye contact when I talk.. I am certainly not scared of men or eve-teasers. Or insects/dark/blood/ghosts/thuders etc etc..

I am afraid of being judged and then branded – “weird” in this little space I have.

There are very few people from my “real” life who know that I write. For the world, I am this techie who is a math and science geek during the day. Why do I hide? Why don’t I wanna be known as the girl who can juggle numbers and words alike (well... I am not exactly a “Writer” writer... I know that)?

I hide because I would rather die than let ‘em know that I bleed when I am punched. It’s one of those things that you get when you are raised in a crooked way... the way I was. Sometimes I wonder if my tear-glands even work.

There is no going back once I post this entry. I am opening a door that I have braced with all my might. I don’t even know why I am doing it, why I am opening it now. I have been writing for last 3 years. I have written stories and poems ... all fiction. But is there anything called fiction in this world? It’s just a part of your soul that you disguise with perfect and sometimes not-so-perfect words.

My last poem (Atonement) was almost a scream. After spending more than two decades trying to be a good girl (and succeeding, if you go by the society’s measuring tape), I am finally realizing the fact that there is something really wrong with me. I keep trying to convince myself that everyone feels that way. That everyone hurts....

The worst thing about being a freak is when you start talking about yourself, when you finally open up.. people think you are bragging. Or they think you are this evil person...
Those who get attracted (I don’t mean just the romantic sort of attraction) to you like you for the fact that you are different. They like you because you can talk and act smart.. smarter than them, most of the time.. but the moment you start breathing again... whooooosh.. they wanna ‘fix’ you.. They want you to be a normal person who reacts in a predictable way to a crisis.. or to happiness – to life.

I have caused some nasty things to happen .. to the people I have cared for. I have caused broken relationships.. and I have lost friends just bcz their significant halves felt threatened.. It hurts.. hurts bad. And then I sit back and wonder.. what did I do? More about that later....

Right now.. I have almost no friend in my own age-group.... I just can't relate to them...

I don’t think I made much sense here.. the fact is, I have held back.. held back a lot. If you thought I was bragging then you know what I mean.. This is exactly the reason I don’t write personal stuff here..

I wanna tell people what I like.. I wanna share my favourite stories.. I wanna tell everyone that I finished the complete works of Dostoyevsky before I tuned 14... I wanna share my passion for firearms.. for math.. for crazy weather.. for .....

Perhaps I am testing the waters... I don’t know if I will take the plunge..
It’s Scary.. Letting people know you.

- Chhaya
Mumbai, India

PS: That’s not me in the image :)

PS2: I am absolutely NOT looking for sympathies!!!! I would rather kill myself than change the way i am!!

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Atonement

Two decades and more,
I have carried this pain.
The weight of expectations
The carcasses of my wishes slain

How much am I supposed to bear?
How much am I to change?
Why can’t I just be a freak?
Why must I wear a pretty face?

The agony is unbearable
The stigma of knowing too much
Too young to be trusted
Too old to be ignored

They try to ‘fix me’,
“It’s for your own good”, I hear
Then why do I smell it,
the rancid odour of fear?

I pretend to be atoned
of my mind untamed
living behind the perfect camouflage
of being civilized again

© 2009 by Chhaya. All rights reserved
PS: the image is googled

It started as a write up and ended up as a poem... I am curious to know what you feel after reading this.

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The Little Girl by the Highway

She was found by the highway,
dumped like a rag .
Bloodied and mauled.
Stripped and flayed.

Bile rises to the throats,
they count her wounds.
But who will pick up the pieces..
of her dismembered soul?

Candy wrapper in her hair..
and dead dreams in the vacant eyes
"Where was my dad last night?" - they ask
"Why didn’t he hear my cries?"

Flashbulbs scream..
and the headlines are relayed.
Kinder than the world,
the vultures keep away.

They bury her five summers..
and her favourite doll.
Lowering her gently,
in the tiny hole.

Watching the new arrival ,
the dead die yet again .
Screaming, they ask aloud,
is this how the Angels are slain?

© 2009 by Chhaya. All rights reserved
PS: the image is googled

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Part II - Fact, Fiction...

New Delhi, evening of a random day in the month of August, a few years back

What gets you through a day? Work? Or the wait for the moment when you will be let off to go home to someone who would be waiting for you? Or someone you would wait for.

Have you ever waited for the work hours to be over just so that you can enjoy the time it takes you to reach the place you sleep at?

I must leave. Those crowded buses seem to be the place to find the perfect solitude. I look out of the glass window. The sky is getting dark. It’s not my usual time to leave… but what the heck…

The same road looks unfamiliar in the twilight. As unfamiliar as this city, even after years. The tiny cell-phone sits snugly in my back pocket.

Have you ever wondered how easy it is to talk to someone if you want to? But what do you do when all you want to share is the silence? Have you ever waited for someone to call so that you don’t look like someone who is ‘desperate’? Is it the Ego that stops you?

Or is it self-defence?

Have you ever longed to be with someone in this twilight – the time when the boundaries of the harsh day and the tranquil night are blurred? Have you ever felt your heart bursting with the desire to be with the one… just walking together on the pavement… sitting together – without having to talk?

To hold.. to be held… to hear the heartbeats …. to be able to feel?

Have you ever met someone like that? Does it hurt when you realize that they never belonged to you?

Do lies hurt you too?
Why do they hurt so bad?

Is it the shame of being a fool? Or is it the fact that you fell for your own fantasies?

Do we only see what we want to see?

Does it hurt when someone loves you so madly that they are ready to lie.. to keep you close…. but not enough to trust you with the truth?

What do you do when you stumble upon it? Do you confront? Or do you feel too scared… scared of breaking the bond that has become your life?

Do you live those lies? Do you pretend that nothing has changed? Do you start feeling guilty that you found what was supposed to be hidden forever?

Why is "Soulmate" a word with a red worm underneath it? Yeah, I am still thinking about it... it’s not even a word!!!! I feel like laughing till I get tears in my eyes.

If only I could get tears in my eyes.

Life and Love are the Four Letter Words .. created by God himself..

I smirk.

Walking to the bus stop was like a therapy.. but why do I wish that the guy was here? Yes, the same guy who takes the bus with me in the morning, well... he doesn’t return with me.

I feel so tired.. Maybe I will just sit on the steel bench.. I love them... Steel – my favourite. More dear than gold! Hah.. Stainless steel… do you know why it’s called stainless? Well, some other day.. just know that it’s “stain less” and not “stain proof” … I smile to myself.

Did I just feel a breeze on my face? Yes I did. It’s getting stronger. Clouds!

Ahhhh. Let me just untie my hair… let me ‘feel the wind in my hair’ as they say it. Let it fall on my face.

what a used to death cliché!

No, I won’t try to tuck it behind my ears like I always do. Most people compliment me for my long hair.. then why do I try to hide it? Why do I keep it tied up? What am I scared of?

The bus is here….
Should I catch it?

Let it go… another one will come.. let me just sit here…

Have you ever been lost, looking at something that does not exist. just sitting somewhere, your eyes unfocused, your mind in a trance..? Thinking about something that never was… something make-believe …

Lies… all lies….

I feel someone’s presence before I turn my head to find that he is sitting right next to me. His face is still disturbed but he manages to give me a smile.

This is the first time that I notice that he smells great.
And this is the first time that I smile back…

Click here to read the first part

© 2009 by Chhaya. All rights reserved
PS: the image is googled

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Fact, Fiction and a little bit of dreams

New Delhi, a random day in the month of August, a few years back

Can you go back to the day when the life was going through the biggest change… yet it all used to make sense?

Can dreams be broken? Do they ever shatter, in pieces as fragile as the virgin snow? Do they melt away when you try to hold them on your fingers?

Do you ever know how the day is going to end when you leave home in the morning? Do you ever really know someone?
One word, one breath – one drop of rain can change everything.
Everything.

It’s still too hot. I have never been a fan of Delhi’s extreme winter, but the summer is something I really hate.

If only it would rain. Right now.

But its here to stay. Few more months and then I will have the lesser of the two evils. Or will I? What is keeping me in this city? Did I find what I came searching for? Or did I lose whatever I already had?

If only god would give me one sign. If only he would tell me what to do. Oh! I am so tired, but the day has just begun.

If only it would rain today....

I stand and wait for the bus. The bus stop is almost deserted. Hummmm, its only 7:30 in the morning. Not everyone is too fond of starting the day so early. Oh yes, that guy is. We take the bus together every morning, but we never talk.
I don’t know him. Not at all.

But do we ever know someone? You may spend your whole life with a person, thinking that he was just an extension of your own soul, but after years, you find a side to him that makes him a complete stranger.

How long does it take to know a person?
One day?

One month?

One year?

Forever?

Do you believe in the word “soulmate”? For god’s sake.. its not even a word.. My spell check so nicely marks it with a red worm...

What do you do when you find a lie, woven into the fabric of trust?

Do you try to pull it out? Do you try to rip it off? But then, can you make yourself do it?

Destroy something that means so much to you? Or do you ignore the obscene spot, and wear it, as if you haven’t even noticed it?

What hurts more – a lie, told to keep you in dark, or the truth that was hidden by the person who means the world to you, to keep you close, save you from pain?

Aahh, forget it.

About the guy? Oh well, he will get off at the same stop as mine and then he will smile. A smile that I never bother to return. It’s too much of an effort – smiling.

Why is he looking so disturbed today? May be it’s the heat.

It’s got to be the heat…

If only it would rain. Thundering crazy rain. That is ONE sign that God can give, without disclosing his address.

The bus is here....


....... to be concluded...

Next Part

PS: I had posted it on my previous blog more than a year back. Wanted to share with people who never read that.. as the title suggests, its loaded with fiction and dreams.. About the story I started, will post the next part very soon.

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Fireflies - 1

It was the storm of the decade. The sky almost as dark as the devil’s soul, lit up every few seconds in brutal shapes made by the deafening, blinding lightening. It wasn’t even 3 o’clock in the evening but the sun was totally drowned and the very air looked inky. The desert lived up to its name. Rushing water washing away the sandy soil, leaving the proud rocks naked and vulnerable. It could have been a scene from before the start of the civilization if it wasn’t for the long silky stretch of asphalt. The rain lashed down as if trying to annihilate and destroy its ugly artificial presence with nature’s fury.

There was not a soul in sight, just a dark hued Mercedes looking radiant instead of blending in the grayscale picture. The man sitting behind the steering wheel had absolutely no expression on his face. His eyes were wide open, vacant. He had loosened the black tie and opened the top two buttons of his pristine white shirt. The ancient scar around his neck looking almost beautiful.

He would have been safe even in the frightening storm, but he had the door open with his right leg out of the car, resting on the road, mocking and teasing death. The flat desert provided a breathtaking view. If he could take his eyes off the non-existing face, he would have been able to see the earth being hammered by Thor himself. His breathing was shallow, labored - his heartbeats louder than the thunders. There was a time when he would have enjoyed the madness around him, but right now, nothing mattered. He could feel the life draining from his soul, but death was far away..... there was no salvation for him...

----- to be continued ----

My Friend John (Quackster) wrote an amazing poem based on this chapter. Have a look. Click Here

© 2009 by Chhaya. All rights reserved
PS: the image is googled

This is the first draft of the first few paragraphs of my new story. Feel free to comment. Suggest a name for the story if you can.. I will be taking it off to another blog and placing a direct link on this one. Seems like a good idea?

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The Girly Survey!

if you’re tagged DO IT.
if you’re not tagged DO IT.

Does your Facebook password have to do with a boy?
I have a face and I have too many books, but never in the same word

Big or small purses?
Purse!!! egads!!!!

Do you enjoy drama?
Zzzzzzzz

Did you dress up on Halloween?
do I need to!! ;) wont that be overkill?

Do you call anybody by their last name?
Hmmm, used to... only one person.hope he is rotting in hell x(

Can you put on mascara without opening your mouth?
never needed no mascara... (flutter flutter wink wink)

Eyeliner or mascara?
eyeliner any day! As I said, never needed mascara ;)

American Eagle or Hollister?
Khadi Bhandar?

Heels or Flats?
Depends how far I am supposed to walk!!

Skirts or jeans?
JEANS!! Have u ever been on an escalator wearing a skirt!!! U got the picture, literally!! :P


Curly or straight hair?
umm u mean mine? straight and long! guys’ – should be too short to be categorized properly!

Hoops or dangling earrings?
dangling.. no hoops for my round face :-/

Have you ever had your heart broken?
If I tell u , I will have to kill u

Do you prefer light or dark haired guys?
light – dark –bald– who cares!

Do you have a best friend?
Yes

Do you like your life?
Yessss

Have you ever walked into the boy’s bathroom?
oh grossssss!!!!!


Have you ever jumped in the pool with your clothes on?
I cant swim :(

Ever slapped a guy in the face?
Yesssssssss, twice – different guys though. both were trying to act fresh

Have you ever cried yourself to sleep?
hmmmmm ahem... hmmm


Have you ever not been able to get someone off of your mind?
yes...

Do you ever wish you were famous?
Nope. I prefer the shadows


IN A BOY:
Preppy or Punk/goth?
Preppy.


Contacts or Glasses?:
glasses!! they are so sexy!

Good cook or take you out a lot?
ummm, someone who likes what i cook :P ;)

Funny or Serious?
Seriously Funny!

Cute or Hot?
Cute but not dumb

Long or short hair?
Short.. crew cut

Smoker or non-smoker?
definitely non-smoker

Tall or short?
doesn’t matter as long as he is taller than me


Your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do?
will break off the friendship. love and friendship don’t mix

RANDOMS:

Have you ever seen someone you knew and purposely avoided seeing them?
soooo many times

Do you know anyone with such a terribly annoying voice that you can’t even stand?
Yessssssssssss

On average what do you think you cry about the most?
I don’t cry. total cry count < 10 in my whole life so far (since i came out of diapers).

Do you have a friend of the opposite sex that you can tell everything to?
No. I am slightly shy

Do you think best friends can be replaced?
yes. change is the only constant

Does the last person you held hands with mean a lot to you?
Yes.

Do you think you have made a difference in anyone’s life?
yeah.. but not too much

Are you going anywhere next summer?
no :(

Are you waiting for anyone’s call right now?
No

Are you shy?
(blush blush)

Do you announce when you have to pee?
egads!

Are you good at hiding your feelings?
read the questionnaire and you will know ;)

How is life going for you right now?
minefield

Do you trust people easily?
No. I have serious trust issues

Do you give out second chances easily?
No. I find it tough to give the first one!

Do you smile a lot?
yes. I am smiling all the time

One thing you’re looking forward to?
Monsoon

How do you feel about change?
is the only constant


Have you ever cried from being so mad?
Nope. I don’t cry

Have you ever lived with a younger brother?
don’t have a brother :( ... sister counts?

Last time you got a text message and smiled?
this morning :)

Have you ever made anyone laugh when they were crying?
Yesssss

Did you ever laugh so hard you cried?
No. again, I don’t cry

Are you happy?
Yes. i m a happy person...no use being grumpy..

Have you ever regretted letting someone go?
Nope. Life is too short for regrets

Do you prefer to be around people, or by yourself?
I love to be near some people. Otherwise by myself.

If you were abandoned in the wilderness, would you survive?
I love the wilderness.. but will the wild survive with me around!

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Mrigtrishna (the Mirage)

Which one is worse, being betrayed... or being betrayed by your own intellect that lured you into believing the shadows in the first place?

PS: I will be starting a story here very soon.. the line above is kinda part of that ritual you have to go through before you let the characters flow...

please feel free to answer that question...

love

chhaya

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Faith

Counting eternities
a moment a time,
waiting for the day
when you’ll be mine.
Searching for the moment
purest of all,
beauty of the night
sparkle of the dawn.

Warmth of your breaths
melting my soul
killing the demons
making me whole
I’ll live the dreams and
the stories untold.
Life will be perfect
I’ll be home.


© 2009 by Chhaya. All rights reserved
PS: the image is googled

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Scream

Why can’t you see?
The wreck, that’s me
Waiting forever
For your love
Something surreal
That’s never to be

It hurts so bad
The pain that’s me
And I am tired
of false smiles
In front of you
Only thing that you can see

I wanna succumb to
The storm that’s me
And don’t even wish
to fix this pain
Soiled dreams
Broken myths

And I will burn it
Your shadow that‘s me
back to the truth
The harsh reality
Nothing is forever
Not even you and me

© 2009 by Chhaya. All rights reserved
PS: the image is googled

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