Grass

Whistling deor who knows of end does not smile

without a slimy tear ; the silent drop falls

with an eccentric calm , 

Wind runs fast , and with it sways the beast's hopes

Of life ; For it doesn't strive , nor bray , but

calmly sweeps its feet, feeling the green grass

but esurient no more.

Rather , invigorates and moves towards

the machete ; intrepid in all its steps 

And a smile sanguine , hoping

for greener fallows hereafter.

Nature's a Drunk Hypocrite When it Comes To Delhi

The heavens are generous again - and the whole city came somewhat close and back to the state of sanity. To assuage my thirst , I walked in the rain. Everything was so calmer than it was before this. 
In retrospect, every moment before this graceful shower was a desperate attempt to escape the heat. It irritated our skin, parched our throats and turned us mad. If the cooler / A.C. stopped working for even one minute we started pulling our hair out. The madness rose to such a level that even my mother, who is a such a miser , let the electricity bill slip into oblivion with her and slept with the A.C. on for hours. I spent less time outside, but when I did, I noticed that people were moving slowly, bearing the smothering stench of sweat, bloodshot eyes and deeply tormented skins. Pretty much like a zombie apocalypse came true. Heat affects our minds, it really does. Delhiites are already notorious for effrontery, guess what heat gives them? Madness. People get into quarrels, fights, wars, they need to vent the frustration out. They were angry, at Nature , and it seemed as if they were saying "all right! Last winter we asked for a little warmth but NOT THIS". Delhi sizzled at a pretty 46 ° C , and those who wanted to survive the heat , first turned themselves into incarnations of heat - all red , and angry and merciless and become the heat itself – to overcome it. 
I was quite badly affected. Normally every second year , me and my family visit Kerala , a place you ought to be during summers. This time we didn’t due to the “12th standard tension”. It made me go crazy. I hated talking to anybody , I almost missed out each and every “friend meetings and reunions” , and I spent half of my time watching hardcore violence movies. I must say , I turned into a sadistic , irritated and furious person. By the time of June , there wasn’t a single soul in the city , everybody was off for vacations in exotic places and hill stations and where not. It was a very bad time. 
My stomach loved the summer, though, especially cold and tasty desserts, light beers, fruit salads and fried fish. Whenever I was outside I made sure that I drank a shikanji after every 25 minutes. And speaking about fashion, the only thing I considered 'trendy', were my sunglasses. Admit it, capris and half sleeved tees suck. 
One reason why summer is a spoilsport for Delhiites – erratic water and electricity supply. I bet , if I just had to take a bath after a long day , and then I find that there is no water , and then when I go to sulk in front of the T.V. and the lights went out , I’d ravage whatever and murder whoever is within my reach. It is no wonder why many of Delhi’s crimes take place during the summers. (no offence.) But then , we can’t blame the authorities either – they can’t bring water and electricity out of nowhere! The needs go increasing , because the stinking rich Delhiites will give up even a fortune to 'outlast' this misery (thus , gutting the calm of several hundreds.) It’s a much worse condition for the poor , though. Imagine an afternoon in your home without a tent to cover your wee heads? And to think that even after this , they resiliently go out for work , biting their lips through blisters and sunburns. They suffer the most , and they actually deserve the much awaited shower of rain. 
Well the scenario is better now, but wait for some weeks more, and you'll find us poor citizens complaining about the flies and the humid atmosphere. Every climate is extreme in Delhi. Here, Nature is drunk inane, and when we ask for good weather , she's like "You ask for it? You get it, you idiots" and pours it on us, until the atmosphere is glutted, and we're almost dead. 

Look back, Smile.

It’s the air. The weather. It inspires. It destroys. It makes you happy. It makes you sad.

And now, it’s raining. One of the most powerful weapons of nature. The saviour rain.

Ah! They associate rain with love. "Hey, its raining. Such a pleasant weather. I am missing you. I wish you were here”. Even my heart would’ve skipped a beat to read such a thing. But silly me. 

You are not gonna receive such a text, idiot. 

Ever again.

I am alone.

Rain makes lovers happy. I am a lover too. Then why does it not make me happy?

Oh wait. I am happy.

I’m alone.

But yes, my thoughts give me company. And how badly I wish they didn’t. I over think.

Minutest things and gestures can make me happy. And so do they make me sad.

Its rather sweet to sit alone in your room, tightly clutching a pillow in hand, and watching the rain drops fall. Like the tears fall. Sometimes calm. Sometimes wild. Sometimes just uncontrollable. Sometimes even happy. Pillow, please never let me go. I am alone.

You just know I over think.

But. I am alone.

“Achu, can anyone love him more than I do?”

“What kinda question is that! Never in this lifetime”

“ : ) ”

Argh,I must stop thinking.

People come in your life. People leave.  Nothing is pre planned. Nothing is fake. Nothing is wrong. But nothing feels right either.

The girl with the straight hair. Tiny little girl. Straight hair. We were friends. Hand cricket brought us together. Kept us together. The girl with a wavy hair. Typically conservative. Yet another friend. The guy who made me laugh all the time. And surprisingly, he still does. The comedian. And another one who considered himself the joker. So did others. Who kept asking for toffees, again and again, on my last day at that school. The ma’am who hugged me tight and said, I’ll miss you. The principal. I never expected her to do that. The idiots. A bunch of them. We played relay in the recess. And the sweethearts. Man, they were handsome. They still are. And I met them 2 days back. The girl who is beauty at its best. Whose cheeks turned tomato red when she failed to answer English sir’s question and his round of beating has started, from the other end. The nearer he reached, the red-er her face turned. The guy who was always with her. And me. My second neighbour. I talked to him a few days back. He flunked. Twice. And a whole set of girls, boys, idiots and fools. Innocent all.  All.  And we were happy.

The area friends were another lot. The girl who cared about nothing but make up. A guy who wore specs. Was studious. Who spoke in Malayalam most of the times. Another one who was too sweet. Another one who was naughtiness incarnate.

The drama. THE drama. The knowledgeable director who inspired. I admire him. A lot. The elder three idiots. The funny lot. I am in touch with two of them. The third one , I have no idea where he is. (Added later: I met him recently (11 july! ) and. What a change over mama! Well,

The Drama. We were Happy.

But the story ended. Way back in 2006 perhaps. I shifted. Shifting from B6 to A3, which was just a few minutes’ walk away, made me cry for weeks. And this was huge. All the way to a new place. Leaving behind the place which I called my home. The place which defined me.  Made me the way I am.

One thing about me: I can survive anywhere. I make friends easily. And adapt quickly. I talk a lot, make friends a lot. Well. These were many things about me!

So new place became my new home. Then home. My home. It molded me. Strengthened me. My views. My personality.  This is my home. And my previous home is now, my home town.

People come. People leave. People stay, their significance changes.

“Hey! I don’t know the story, but I can’t see you this way. I know you are not this. Weak. You must have loved him a lot na?”

“I still do”

“Oh.”

People come. People leave. Some stay, some walk away.

I knew her from the days in my hometown. But was never that great a friend. I guess we dint even speak then. Minus the “bye didi” at the farewell party. They were leaving. To place, which, I dint know then, would become my home too.

And back home, we became good friends. But it was when I was at my worst that we became the best of friends. Emotional attachment. Two of those who walked me out of depression in the later stages of that phase. The other one, is a sweetheart too. Mr. Liverpool. A mentor like person to me. An asshole. Both of them, I owe a lot to.

A lot lot.

Classes sixth to tenth. Were happy and sad days. More of happy less of sad, though. But then, every moment was totally worth it. Together we had faced it all. Lived it all.

Classes 11^th and 12^th, though we were a busy lot, fun never kept away from us. There. There I found the other two gems. Gems. Some part of me, I owe to them.

Awesome life it is.

People come and people leave.  And when some people leave, you  are dead. Simply, dead.

Well the absence of the description of one particular person is quite visible, If you know me well enough. Because people come and people leave. People stay or they walk away. And even if the stay, their significance doesn’t stay the way it was.

Well. I have one exception to this rule. Sadly or happily, just one. Neither will he leave, nor will his significance change.

One thing: I pretend. Sometimes. Sometimes very less, sometimes too much. But, I pretend. Everyone does.

Another thing: the exception is valid here too.

Infact its valid everywhere.

I know him from my hometown days. Was an introvert then. Still is. But, to the world. For me, I cannot see the introvert in him when with me. Otherwise, one hell of an introvert. Given an option to, he’d rather prefer going to Jupiter and settle there. Establish a settlement. His kingdom. I dint quite know then that this introvert would become the most important person in my life, ever. Of course, family goes without mention. Little did I realise that I’d start loving him in infinite ways. No, not that  love, I am talking about. Love is multi-faceted. But the emotion, just one. Unique. To tease him with his nickname and feel happy when he felt weird, it was love.  Running to fetch his clothes from his mom because he needed to get out of the black and black suffocating clothes, it was love. Instead of having my lunch and roaming around with the gang, to get food for him and make him eat, it was love. To force him to propose the girl whom I presumed he liked, was love. To get angry at him at the minutest things, it was love. To get the Lays packet of his favourite flavor, it was love too. To calm him down when he gets highly irritated at the things going on in life, at the world, because he was at a level little higher than the common brains of the common man, was love. To bring him back to normal when he was down in the dumps, was love. To grow with him, to see him growing, into a better, finer person, a charming young man, was love. To be with him always, no matter what, is love.

And I said I am all alone.

I lied.

I am not alone.

Its still raining. And nature plays the saviour. The rain washes down the emotions. Purify the feelings. Calms me down. The rain. The magician rain. And just like a raindrop full of life, the tears fall. Emotions. Happy ones.

The guy sings in the background,

“Dekho tum na mere hi bane..”

And I hold my pillow tightly.

Never let me go.

Love? Yes, Love.

Love. It doesn’t make you do crazy stuff just to see the smile of your lover or do out of the world things to make him/her happy. It doesn’t make you go weak on your knees when you see the person you are in love with. It doesn’t make you look your best when you are going to meet him/her. It doesn’t give you immense amount of happiness like no one else ever gave. Same way, it doesn’t give you never ceasing pains. Its not something to die for. And many a times, its not something to live for, either. Love isn’t talking on phone or texting 24/7. It isn’t fantasising about someone all the time. It isn’t  about forgetting your needs or  deeds or your responsibilities towards everything else in the life and being hundred percent dedicated to the one you are in love with. It isn’t about knowing what the other person is upto all the time. It isn’t about just one single person becoming the soul reason for you happiness/sadness/everyday mood/way of living life. Love isn’t about dreaming about a future together.  It isn’t about so many things. But what is it about? Do we have an answer?
Perhaps not.

PS. Loving the person who doesn’t love you back the same way, being happy about the fact that the person your love loves is not you, never  fooling your heart by trying to convince yourself that you don’t love him/her, never censoring your thoughts while talking to him/her, never pretending to be happy when you are not. This is love, baby. Of a different kind. Ooh! Not the “boyfriend-girlfriend” wala love. Much more deeper than that. (hey, not intending to say that that love is a shallow one. No comments ) Yes, this is love. Love Love Love. Well, this is the kind of love when you take someone for granted. No, not  the “future together” “living together” “shaadi vivah” wala love. Its being there always, no matter what  wala love. People call it best friends wala love, bestestest friends wala love. I say, Love.
 Simply,

Love.

PPS: The first part of it might come out as pure shit, but then,perception matters.A lot. :)

Heat's no excuse!

This post has been written for the 'Topic of The Month'- Summers.

Let me tell you in the very beginning itself,  I am not going to rant about how sweaty the summer here gets or how amusing it gets for the water and electricity authority officials to entertain themselves by playing with the supply of the two above mentioned essential quantities; for a simple fact, that I love winters. Oops! I meant summers. Well, both. Winter, for the calmness it bears (and presently, thinking about winter works like what ice does to the back of our neck, when both of them suddenly come in contact.) So the point being, I love summers. Since I haven’t experienced a summer in some other place, I can say, “ I love the summer in Delhi." Owe it to the vacation maybe, I am usually in high spirits during this time, given the large amount of time I can carelessly spend roaming around with friends along the length and breadth of this wonderful city. Now don’t tell me how hectic, stinky, tiring (and whatever adjectives you might love to add) it gets. Come on, I know that. But what I know better is that the fun element in ‘hanging out with friends or roaming alone aimlessly and exploring’ overshadows everything else.  Is there any other time when you can wear even the shortest of your miniskirts (or shorts or whatever shitty names they come up with, every time a new trend sweeps in), display your brand new undergarments (which was initially ‘invented’ to be worn under another layer of clothing. But then again, damn you, evolution!) and not get criticized about? Isn’t this the best time to  feel proud about our very own Delhi metro? Or the plight of ac buses we have! Now let me go back to being a child and count those things that made summers awesome, back then, and frankly, till date! Watermelons. Loads and loads of watermelons! And for mango fans, tons of varieties of mangoes! Heaven! Okay, it’d be inappropriate and would hurt the young sentiments and would be my biggest sin if I don’t mention about the thirst quencher. All time favorite thirst quencher, none other than our dear old yet new banta! And the classis jal jeera and the likes. Though I will never understand the logic of eating garam garam bhutta in garam garam summer (not talking about the harvesting season of corn. ) on a typical summer evening, you will still find every other guy with a bhutta in hand, with their health conscious teeth working out hard! So talking about summer in Delhi, or more like, My summer in Delhi, people, Malls. Loads and loads of malls. Bowling, pool, ice skating, video gaming, laser gaming, and, FOOD. One couldn’t ask for more. And predictably, after all this, when you are out of funds, saddi dilli ki galiyaan will always welcome you with food and fun galore! And, when else do you get the opportunity to flaunt your masters degree in swearing ( Read swearing in different languages, mixing lingos, creating words) and then, blame it all on the heat and irritation caused by it? Don’t we just absolutely love swearing? Blame the heat, but admit it, we do have a lot of fun! Or more like we finds ways of having fun and making the best out of everything.Rewind. No amount of harsh cruel heat prevented us from playing gilli danda or maaram pitti or kancha or pakdam pakdai. And now, no amount of heat prevents us from walking over to a friend’s place or roaming around from shop to shop in sarojini nagar or lajpat nagar looking for that one top which would suit you perfectly (and overlooking the fact that every shop sells the same thing at the same cost ), from rolls to momos in Satya. And no matter the number of never noticed posters warning us about the harms of street food in this season, we’d not mind stopping at the roadside golgappe wala and gulp down that fresh minty pleasure or savour the perfect balance of the white, green and red elements of our paapdi chaat.  We never get tired of eating, do we? Summer is no exception and sweat is no excuse! It sweats? Nothing new, deal with it?! And kick the excuses out of your way, and set your target, the mission is all about having fun! Why lament over the colour of almost non existent water in the summer- Yamuna when you know the rain's awaited and is going to lift us and wrap us in the comforts of the mesmerizing breeze and drive us crazy and make us get out of our air conditioned comfort zones and get drenched in the lovely drops of pure unadulterated priceless pleasure! Well, summer is no less a pleasure. 

Back To School

My school reopened lately and everything has been crazy since then. Just plain absolute 'crazy'. And I don't mean the fun and happy 'crazy', in which you have too much alcohol and try to become Shaktimaan by rotating furiously. I mean the kind of crazy that your mom gets when she finds about the alcohol.

And crazy reaches new heights in Delhi, where the temperature is so high that you can't make out whether the stench smothering you is someone else's or your own.  So yeah, I have witnessed a lot of 'crazy' in the past few days. Mostly because my parents believe in the system of education and send me to a school which, apparently is considered one of the best schools in Delhi . But my school, much like everyone else's, fanatically tries to screw with the students. It chose the following ways-

1) It kept extra classes during half of the summer vacations; despite of CBSE declaring holidays. (But who listens to CBSE anyway?) The classes were only for the seniors as the school believes that we are immune to heat. In fact, I doubt that they have a theory which says that us seniors can photosynthesize the heat and use the energy to fill our registers. Or maybe, that's just me going crazy.

On a serious note, i think the motive behind the extra classes was not to teach students, that hardly happened. The real motive was to get students accustomed to the idea of following order's even if they make no sense. They are preparing us for the real corporate world, where our boss will mess with us, just for the kicks of it.

2) It asked us to wear the same white uniform for a week. Although my regular uniform makes me resemble the doorkeeper of a mall, but I can live with that. What I can't live with, is wearing the same white uniform, which has been drenched in sweat and has been used by me as a napkin, over and over again. Why not wash it you say? Try saying that to my mother. She made me take the week off.

3) It kept morning assemblies in the scorching heat, for a time period that appears like an hour or so. The assembly mainly involves students pushing each other and trying to figure out the Principal's accent. And then there are the lame choir songs; all to Jesus. The fact that only 3% of the students are Christians doesn't matter; what matters is that our Chairman is Christian and somehow Christians,down the ages, have had a knack for converting people. Personally, I guess it's really awesome how our chairman makes 3000 Hindu kids pray to Jesus everyday, on the same ground, at the same time and mint money out of it. Pure genius. Anyway, after a bunch of kids show their talent by passing off poems ripped from the internet as their own, 5-6 get drenched out of energy and faint while singing the prayer songs( Jesus chooses not to revive them) and rest of the students get tanned and start stinking; the Principal declares that the students can go back to their classes after a practice session of singing for another 20 minutes. Why does she make us do that? Because she can.

'My school, I'll not reveal the name in order to avoid the humiliation'

Pic credits: AYJe

                                 

So if you have managed to stick on till now , then you'll understand how crazy I am.

But you know what?

Any of it doesn't matter when the monsoon comes and the gentle cascade makes you think that life is worth living.

Also, you can always see some random people slip and fall.

Bliss.

You have seen her, Haven't you?

Aren’t you so used to being loved? Being kissed to sleep? Isn’t love the best thing that could have ever happened to you? That no matter how close you are to other important people in your life, isn’t he the one who makes you happy? No matter how hard others strive to keep you happy and sound, isn’t it his plain ‘I love you’ that makes you the happiest? No matter how much others care for you from the core of their hearts, isn’t it his hug (even in the form of a combination of alphabets followed by another combination of smileys) that makes you feel as if he is the most caring person on earth! No matter how much your best friends or not that best a friend tries to calm your anger down, deals with the worst of your temper (more often than not caused by the same lover in question) patiently, isn’t it that one kiss from him or that one I love you from him that will automatically convert you into the most cheerful person on this planet? Why? Is this fair?

Oh. This is what we call love right? And everything is fair in love, they say! Of course! It must be. No matter how bullshitty a thought it seems to me, it must be true. Who am I to know?

]But yes, I am fully aware of the ‘fact’ that its Only him who can convert your sadness into happiness and your happiness into super duper happiness. Only him, Fair enough. And only his presence can make you feel like the luckiest person alive. Wait a second. Do you really know for how long he will stay, he will stick to you? DO you?

And yeah, I know, I most certainly do, that no matter how important others are, its just him you want to spend every moment of your life with, if given a chance. Why not? I totally completely understand how you cannot even imagine a life without him. And when you make public announcements of how he adds to your happiness and how he is always there for you or when you make every silly little thing he does for you seem like conquering the moon, I swear to my copy of PS I love you, it doesn’t make me feel as if I am deprived of something that you most certainly are enjoying. Why should I feel bad! Its not like love is important for me, is it? Come on! I am not like you, am i. only you have the right to feel loved. I don’t crave to be loved, right? Right. Nothing could be more perfect for me. now before the crew of Desperate Housewives run after me offering me the lead role, owing to my desperation, take a break. Come with me.

Here. Do you see this girl over here, listening to songs and enjoying to the core, the lyrical, musical, instrumental, vocal quality of the songs and critically examining them by listening to them day in and day out? She is one of the happiest people around, right? Now take a closer look. I know the darkness prevents you from her. Come a little more closer please? Can you now see her enjoying the lyrical beauty of the song and crying herself out to sleep? Her overly-functioning tear glands producing gallons of tears? Sometimes silent, sometimes accompanied by muffled voice? Or sometimes just creaming from within? Can you see her? I’ll tell you more. One thing about her, she is a fighter. I bet my life, she is one strong woman,. One of her kind. She fights for what she believes in and stands by what she loves. You’ll never get a stronger support than her. Love her and then leave her. And when you come back, she will behave like she was the very day before you left. Just the same her, always supporting, always loving. She’ll walk the wire to support you and when she is down in the dumps, she won’t even expect you to help her out. She is a survivor. She needs you but won’t forcibly demand your attention or help or care. ( but believe me, you might not realize it now or not in the nearest future, but, you need her more. Much much more than she needs you)But yes, she patiently waits. One day, maybe on day, you will truly care. Maybe on fine day she will feel not so lonely. Loneliness. Yes, you have seen her spotting her cheerful smile, shouting out loud, partying with friends, always, having the best of fun. But let me tell you, you aren’t looking inside that darkness which prevents you from reaching her actual self. Take a closer look at her eyes, you’ll find Mr. Loneliness there. Her true companion these days. You have seen her beautifully lined eyes. No matter at what point of time you look at her, you will find that thick layer of kajal around her eyes. Beauty conscious, isn’t she? But my friend, you need to know her like the back of your hand and only then will you realize that she is trying hard, with sir Kajal’s assistance, to keep Mr. Loneliness safe inside her eyes, out of the reach of your stares. And guess what? She succeeds. You couldn’t see her, the actual her. You have seen h er laughing at the silliest of jokes. A little easy, is she not? You need to sincerely search her eyes to know that she’s preparing herself for the night’s turn. The darkness falls. She is back in her room. Mr. Loneliness gets out of his shell makes a grand entry. And her rendezvous with Mr. Loneliness, no one knows of. Is she in love with Mr. Loneliness, one might ask. Why does she stick to him always? Carry him everywhere she goes? Hell no, she ain’t in love with him. The problem is, she is in love. But not with Mr. Loneliness. Ah! That would have been better. At least His Highness Loneliness loves her back and never leaves her. Sweet.

She fights hard. Everyday, every second. She wakes up fighting with Mr. Loneliness. Throughout the day her mind’s busy plotting against him. But at night, she fails. Miserably fails. She trembles. She screams for help. Someone rescue her? She’s fierce, angry, but realizes its of no use. She’s alone. A love warrior. She doesn’t have a weapon. She slowly succumbs. Fighting till the end, she falls. She finally reaches her now used to destination. With Over excited tear glands and tightly clutched pillow, thanking the artist for completely relating to her and understanding her; reaching out to her. She finds herself in between the lyrics. After so long, she still do. And then, she smiles. For such a great thing called love ever happened to her. And the smile slowly gives way to the tear gland’s excitement. It functions. It works hard, harder than before. And there she lies. Crying herself to sleep.

You know her. You have seen her. Completely enjoying the song and falling asleep happily, yes, you have seen her, haven’t you?