Friday, 18 May 2012

A Storm Brews...

Like a distant melody,
Like a lingering memory,
You still stay in my life,
I guess staying apart from each other is still a strife.

I'm trying to run away,
From the fingers pointing my way,
From the monster you've turned into,
But I guess I left you with no other option to escape to.

This is a great responsibility to shoulder,
And still, without it my skies turn grey,
Though the dusty feelings get older,
With time; never does it, and never will it fray.

I dunno what game it is that we're playing,
Twisting the fabric of life; piece by piece,
So enough of all this blaming,
Let me see the truth, set me at ease?

Looks like your furry walked right out,
When I left as well, to prove it to me,
How fixed a north-star can be,
I put my hands up, I give up, without doubt.

I know I've lost the right to worry about you,
But it kills me to stand and let it happen,
And do nothing as as the storm brews,
to destroy you and with it me....again.

So if it makes a difference, here it is,
If I can't hold you back, I'm falling with you,
Want you to turn over a new leaf and start new,
Wake up sooner, my midnight sun, that's my last wish.

Saturday, 12 May 2012

Mom- Personification of Love

Your hands, your face are,
Probably my first baby memories,
That I vaguely remember by far,
And they’re still the ones that bring me peace.
I waited to grow into your clothes,
Slept with them against my nose,
Watched you in awe with big black eyes,
Hoping to grow like you; loving and wise.

As seasons rolled into years,
Our lives intertwined and got rougher,
And I saw the way you hid away your tears,
All forsaking for me; all to make me stronger.

When decisions had to be made,
You preferred my say in it,
And that one choice bloomed into this decade,
Where you still keep your promise that we’d never split.

You and me, this is now my family,
It’s been so for years and I can clearly see,
You play all the roles there is for me to be,
Your daughter; young, wild, unique and carefree.

Knowing what a handful I was,
I can’t figure out how you raised me well,
Worthy of praises and applauses,
But now in my mind, the answer rings a bell.

You always say I’m your pillar of strength,
But mom, you’ve always been mine too,
I only strive for that extra length,
Only to see that proud smile; because you deserve to.

I can’t repay your sacrifices but I will make you proud,
Someday I will end this chase for my dream,
So that I can shout out aloud,
‘Mum! WE finally made it as a team!’
So here’s a toast to all,
The mother’s out there,
Whose love makes us stand tall,
Share the love, go on, show them that you care!

Friday, 11 May 2012

A Hard Choice

The sun cascaded down the sloping streets and the traffic breathed into the city. Taylor and Smith were crossing the roads when they got stuck mid-way.  Smith picked out a gap in the traffic stream and quickly crossed barely saving his life. When Taylor eventually made it Smith smiled at her.
‘Didn’t have the guts to cross with me?’
‘I didn’t think losing my life was any wiser than what you did’.

            Sometimes it’s not about the act of bravery; it’s about the wiser choice out. Before you jump into something you’re not up to, think about the consequences and whether it’s worth it or not. People tell you all the time to strive against the odds, to go that extra mile. But no one tells you what happens after the feat, the applause and exclamations. At the end of the day it’s about you. And no matter how compassionate a person is, it is always about you at the end. We come into this world alone, leave alone so live for yourself. You might think ‘Let me do this. If I do then I can prove my strength and ability’ but if you truly value your work, then you’ll think twice and decide not to go with it. A simple example. 
I was looking forward to my Radio Jockey Program for weeks. I’d been practising my modulations, rewritten the script and finally managed to get energy into my voice. The semester had ended and this was all that was left to show my talent. But today, right before I woke up from my sleep, I fell ill.  I could barely put a smile on my face and all I thought was about my recording at the studio this afternoon. I trudged out and made it to my college and sat waiting hoping my sickness would go away. It was then that I thought about what I really wanted from the situation.

            Of course I wanted relief, wanted to back down and do it some other day, but I knew this would be wrong. The rest of my class wouldn’t be able to record if I didn’t go, and I didn’t want to cause that upon them. So I sat quietly with no other way left…or so I thought. My faculty walked in, saw my condition and proceeded to cancel the studio booking. She asked me only once whether I could do it or not. And I said no.  I had just one shot at my anchoring, I wouldn’t be able to go back and fix the lack of energy in the recording. And I knew that I won’t be the RJ I vision myself as while practicing. That was enough to say no.

When we’re in a creative field, we need to give respect to our work. It’s not about our talent, our health and ability. It’s about doing justice to what comes out of our talent. If you want to give it your best, you still can when you’re feeling down, but it most certainly won’t be the same as what you wanted. So why do we try and regret looking at our own work? Why to look back and feel you did badly when it wasn’t your fault? Isn’t it better to start fresh another day and do it so with flying colors? Won’t that feeling that, you put in your heart and soul and not just gave it your best, worth risking it all? Think about it.  Crossing that road for Taylor wasn’t a big deal; she too knew she could do it. But was it worth? Worth the panic and risk? Ask yourself this before your strain yourself for maximum output. If you think yes, then you’re totally up for it. But even if you seem to take one step back then say no. You’ll be glad you did someday. I did while I wrote this now. 

Monday, 7 May 2012

Window Shopping?

When Sabrina entered the world full of lights, shiny floors, and elite atmosphere, she was swept away from the world that existed behind the huge mall doors.
‘One day, I’ll have enough money to buy them all’ she whispered without taking her eyes off the showrooms surrounding her.

            It’s simple to say that we’re just going window shopping…our minds go with the idea that we won’t buy anything but it doesn’t end with that. Somewhere in the back of our minds, the mall shopping experience impacts a great deal on our lifestyle. We get caught with the lifestyle portrayed by the plastic mannequins that we become one among them. Looking at the price tags, our heart gets a shock, no matter what class we belong to. And check it out, a price tag says 3999… you’re inclined to buy it because your mind automatically registers the 3000… but not the 999 that follows. Then gradually after witnessing far too many price tags, the highest rate outside the mall, also seems pretty reasonable rate to you.
            I sometimes wonder what the branded shops get out of it, but as I grew I realized that even selling one piece would fetch them a huge profit. For after all, shopping in malls that too from branded showrooms has become a prestige icon. It gives a great feeling to walk out of a mall with too many bags to hold and the frenzy of shopping never dies. And it is especially true with girls. Looking behind the glass windows to the products flooded with golden light, I think everyone has a moment where they instinctively want it. But it’s all up to your will power to resist the urges. Otherwise you end up with piles clothes, shoes and much more of just one time wear.
            The malls target our basic human trait…greed. It displays what could be ours because we are free to walk around, touch, and wear it. With clothes there’s the trial room, with cosmetics there’s a tester. And we do test it; fall into the trap. You want it forever. You swear that it’s the only thing you’ll buy for this month. But come shopping in a week to the same mall and you’ll want a bit more. Malls make our greed grow. So do stop at a mannequin, desire it, picture yourself in it, and leave the window with that. That’s how real window shopping is done. Now…what do you do at a mall?

Friday, 4 May 2012

The Row House -3

Click here to read the previous pages!

A pool of red liquid sunk into my boots and I didn't need to look down to know that it was blood. Vicky's blood. How had this happened? She was there the whole time and I must have heard Vicky come in or at least the screams before she was unethically butchered into a box. Lila would be on her way, that was some hope. But what to do with Vicky? I closed my eyes, stretched my hand and closed it shut. Then I quickly skipped out of the room and locked it as well. It was a crime scene now, and the further I stayed, the more probable it becomes that I'm a suspect.
                         I walked over to the kitchen which was not covered in plastic like the rest of the house. It didn't need painting for the owners had renovated it and given it a rich burgundy color to the previous tenant. Hmmm, burgundy. Where had I seen this before? I walked around the kitchen, my boots making the only sounds I heard in the empty row house. And as I looked at everything around me, a wave of dèjà vu swept over me. We had been hunting houses just a few weeks back. But there was another time we searched homes. When I shifted out into this town, a couple of my college pals and I looked for a place.And one of them loved burgundy. She really wanted us to take this place just for it.
'What was her name?' I thought as I stared hard at the wall. I had seen this place before, these hills around the house should have triggered my memory strip but it hadn't. It hadn't because it wasn't a row house before. Somewhere in the back of mind a set of pictures, memories, smells replayed themselves and ended with her face.
'Heather.' I spoke out aloud.
'You remember now?' said a voice behind me. My spine ran its chills as I crossed my fingers. I knew that voice. I heard soft thumps behind me and then the pale creepy corpse came into view. It was Heather.
'You dared to come back to the same place after so many years?' she spoke. Her voice felt hollow, eerie and bloodless.
'How did you become.... this?' I mustered my strength and courage to ask her.
'Don't you know? I came and stayed out here... while you all left me to rot like this!' she yelled in a piercing tone.
'Heather, we told you. This place wasn't right from the minute we saw it. You know that.'
The conversation that followed was heated, revealed most of the queries that I had blocked for many years after her supposed death.
'Right, and what I didn't know was that this place has toxic levels so high to kill you! You knew that! And yet you didn't stop me when I took it out.' she stood beside me and I knew she was drilling her eyes into me.
'Look, the owners were different back then, they hadn't informed me either! Yes, I agree I knew there was something fishy. The neighbours spoke of some curse and demons but come on Heather, I swear to God I thought they were superstitions.
'Well they're not. Just look at me Riya!' She came to my full view and stood facing me.
'See how I've become! I can't even step out. People are scared of me! Even you were. It ruined my life, my dreams.' Heather was always one to fuss about little things and the reason to this fight was small, but she made sense. But I couldn't point a finger at myself for it.
'Heather, think over this rationally. What's happened has happened. But by living out here, you're becoming the monster you look like! You don't have to kill people, don't have to take revenge. Just start over... turn over a new leaf.' Maybe my words were too fast, but she got my point. I watched her closely as she held herself together. I knew I was winning.
'Listen, I'll come back and take you. We'll get you back to life, make you human again. But just forgive fate and let me? Don't let anyone see this creature you've become from the amazing girl that I used to know. What say?' I didn't wanna do it, but I laid a fleshy hand on her shoulder and gave a smile.
                           The sound of the door opening made me throw my head back into reality where there was a chopped up friend to deal with. Lila ran into the kitchen and caught me asking a dozen questions. Behind her the police swarmed in and I knew that they'd eventually find Vicky's box. But in my head, a happy melody was playing smoothly. I knew I'd give back the right life to Heather again with her burgundy kitchen... a new dream that I'd support her the renovated yet not too promising row house.

Thursday, 3 May 2012

The Parting Glance

Holding hands now while silence speaks for itself,
Never thought this day would arrive so soon, myself.
How the time has flown since we first met?
Thought everything else mattered but now I regret.

Feels...that time isn't enough in our small world,now,
Wish we live it again if God will endow
That same innocent mind and mischievous little attitude,
carefree and playful days when we called each other 'dude?'

Preoccupied with books and captain-ship we forgot,
to treasure each minute and allowed ourselves to be caught,
in the tangles of life, thinking ahead of the choices,
instead we strove for marks ignoring our inner voices.

I vividly remember our inattentive boring classes and,
notes we passed under desks, decorated each others hands,
Playfully fought, hid other's things, told small lies,
those moments in my heart now slowly dies.

Our screams, our laughs, small happiness and sweet cries,
comforting moments, short lived feuds...they'll have no price,
Silly reasons to celebrate, woeful causes to be angry but still,
regretful words spoken, forgotten, with these my memories fill.

Know that this is what I feel of our unforgettable years,
And I hope that no matter what we're still near,
But don't miss memories for they're happy ones without ends,
I especially wrote all this to say... I'm proud we're friends!'

Wednesday, 2 May 2012

The Row House-2

My feet tingled; my head felt woozy but everything that I felt then was my body’s interpretation of fear. Down there among the rubble of dry grass and decaying bark was a cloth less corpse. But irony in that was that she was kneeling and was extending one pale hand to me. Struck in the moment like a deer caught in the headlight, I slowly shook my head. But her responses to me were unrelated. Then she slowly bled from various points, purple bruises covering her skin and hair falling away in lumps. I gulped and dare not blink. She extended her hand and was conversing with me again…it was then that another thought came into my shocked mind. The minute I thought of it, my mind conjured up images of what was behind me. I don’t know why I turned; but I did. Staring into my face was another pale-skin shedding corpse, smiling cheerfully even with a broken jaw.
            I ran. Adrenaline took control and I fled the scene. I ran down the stairs, two at a time, and into the first room that I saw. The painters had abandoned it, probably on their lunch break. Maybe they thought that I’d left sooner.  More fear surged and I went down the flight of stairs to the main door.
‘Please God’ I whispered before I check the handle. It looked like my prayers were facing a network problem for it was locked. The sound of echoing footsteps made me leave the looked door and into the coat room. It was pitch dark inside, and the smell of new paint clubbed with limited supply of oxygen made it harder to keep conscious. These ‘beings’ weren’t ghosts. If it were so I’d have not bothered, braced myself and faced them. But these were living corpses. I didn’t know how they landed up here, and why they were decaying old but they were real. And I needed help; enough of pretending that I can handle it on my own. So what did I do? Stupidly enough, I prayed. A bit of concentration and chanting, I got a light bulb idea. Rather simple really. I yanked out my phone and dialled in Lila’s number. Her company was nearby and maybe she could come and haul me out of this. Or at least get the damn painters to open the door.
‘Hello?’ a voice cracked on the other line.
‘Lila! It’s me. Come get me. I’ll explain later.’ I shortened my sentences as the line was cracking.
‘Vicky was on--way there-- her boxes-- her room. Hasn’t --reached?’
‘Lila I can’t hear!’
‘Where are you?’ I heard her yell.
‘The Row House!’. By the time I finished the call I was desperately in need of air. Gasping loudly I bust the door open and welcomed the fresh air that came.  The footsteps weren’t to be heard now so I tip-toed cautiously to the next room. It had been painted already, done in with shades of purple. Vicky’s color. Lila said something about Vicky’s boxes in her room. I guess the eye covets what it wants to see and my eyes rested on the huge cardboard box. ‘Vicky’ was neatly written across it with a star next to it. Definitely Vicky. But something was wrong with the image. Something impractical, something twisted wrong…something red in the middle of all her purple.
            I inched forward to the box and slowly opened the flaps.