Fleeting Moment of Freedom

               That particular night, Farheen rushed us into the set of 'expensive' clothes and doubled our makeup. We knew someone special was coming to see us, otherwise rags were all that he could afford off stage. As for Farheen; all 6''2  of him was dressed in an eloquent sherwani with ebony embroidery. The kind that matched mine, or it was meant to be the other way around, I was not sure. Hell, I was never sure why he dragged me like I was a complimentary gift that came with him or why he had to coordinate our clothes. But I was sure like every other time that they'd praise him, for getting such a beauty by his side and other things I'd make my ears deaf for. And yet I was the envy of the girls surrounding me; they wished to be in my shoes. Fact was, they wouldn't dare want to once I removed those shoes outside our 'home'.
             We had 2 hours before the show was scheduled to start but my act had already begun. I smiled through the ache from the bruises that Farheen absently revisited while he introduced me to the guests of our grand theater. I imagine they'd be potential sponsors in our upcoming shows as talks on money surfaced and my mind drifted off everywhere but there. Not too long after I was in my dream world, he snapped me out of it by deliberately taking my arm around his. Posing to be his muse was the most disgusting thing and that thought throbbed throughout the show. While the cheers and applause died down, I ran my fingers over the warm velvet fabric that I had just worn. A deep sigh and I let go of it along with the ornaments that made me look like a princess. Ready to face reality, I looked into the full length mirror backstage and saw the real me. Another sigh.
          'Wow brother! Our collection is just off the charts today!" Zavier exclaimed counting the cash, one sly eye at me. I pretended to dust the files in the office whereas I secretly viewed the names of people locked up in different dressing rooms. There was no point, the security was too tight and if I opened a door I'd probably set off an alarm, yet checking it was a habit that kept me alive.
         ''Eh.... Didn't you eat yet? Go... Eat" Farheen said pushing an empty plate towards me. I politely nodded and walked up to the half eaten trays that he and his boys had left behind. I shoved it all onto the plate, and segregated the portions to make it look as if someone bothered to serve me well and then stared at the plate. There was hardly enough. I looked out the window that connected the office and the huge hall. The caterers were packing up, but it was still worth a chance. Not at getting food, but at getting a fleeting moment of freedom. I inched towards the door.
"Where do you think you're going?" said Farheen as he breathed his cigarette down my back. I pushed my hair back and replied.
"There's not enough food. They might have some left overs." He considered it for a while; chuckled.
"Haan haan, go. I wouldn't want you making me look bad. Eh Rahul, go with her." Rahul, one of his silent boys got up, rubbed his hands over his shirt and walked ahead of me.
"And listen! Get some shopping done for the show on Friday night" he said pushing some crumpled notes into my palms. Rahul took them from me almost at once.
              Out there the caterers looked at me like I had faded to grey in my early 20's already. Of course they didn't recognize me. I undid the knot of my skirt where I hid my hope - a scrap of ticket paper with scribbled letters pleading for help. I scanned for Rahul ... he was chatting with the caterers, hands in his pocket. I quickly moved to the man who was putting hot steaming leftovers on my plate and dropped in into his basket of rotis. At first he was puzzled, but then he grabbed it and inserted it into his pocket in a hurry. It felt like someone had undid a tight corset. I could breathe. I hid a smile as I looked at Rahul again. This time his eyes bored into me like black beads.

Click here to read on.

Etched to Reality

A million eyes in a crowd,
The ring of my name and applause so loud,
As I walk down the velvet carpet,
My life is one that only a few will get.

Before my path was set,
I was just a murmur in a melody
And yet did they all bet,
With my every step, I'd create my own identity.

Every word etched, I'd try to turn to reality,
Every dream dreamt, I'd hope to become history,
And every precious tear shed,
Transformed to strength for what the critics had said.

Lunging behind the common fence
Did they not know about my past tense,
Said I had the world at my feet.
But who doesn't have the demons of life to beat?

For a girl who walks to an empty home,
Only the forbidden garden does she want to roam.
And for that girl living in a fantasy,
Skipping down the road of normality was easy

But I was not that princess in a palace set,
No, I didn't take my fantasy to be fantasy,
I penned my world to paper and turned it to reality,
Yes, my life is one that only a few can get.

True Independence

In a nation where true leaders led,

And into that same soil where they bled,

We wake, we live, and we've fled…

Leaving our pride for our soil withering dead.

Leaving prayers of gratitude and hope, unread.

Of the bonds that bound us into brotherhood,

Comes another day of pride in Gandhi’s nation.

Of the decades that slipped in mutiny unheard,

Comes every day, a chance for transformation.

And so, from prince to pauper,

And from royalty to peasantry

Have the same blood when it comes to us as a country.

So why bar with differences our caste, creed and birth proper?

The heroes in jail did not picture this,

When we as a nation now point at ourselves,

For the hindrance to that dream they dreamt,

Or our hibernating capabilities that we refuse.

It’s time we acknowledged our past,

The tragic yet triumph weaved into such irony,

That the reoccurring history’s pain still lasts,

Lasts in every grievous or glorious battle won and song sung.

So today, paint the hearts with the colours of dreams,

Fill the air we breathe with words of experience immense,

Feed those hungry eyes not with mere hope, but promise,

So that we carry each other into the gates of true independence

In every man, with the ring of the anthem,

Floods thoughts of that written history,

And soon our deeds shall merge into them,

And when it does, be sure that they merge with splendid glory! 

Forever Friendship

On then wake of friendship day, Chris burned his midnight oil making an intricate friendship day bracelet for his soul friend Anaba. His family held that these friendship bracelets carried extreme powers. It was foretold that any wish made while tying one would come true when it withers and falls off on its own. Chris didn't know any other way to say that he had given his heart to his best friend other than to do it Anaba's way. And so, he begun foraging for yarn weeks before, on the banks of Kalamazoo, where they dyed yarn and weaved it into clothes. Chris didn't weave, he formed the bracelet by knotting, sealing a wish within every knot. And when Anaba laid eyes on it, the fate of the two best friends was tied forever.

              Years later, when Chris and Anaba had grown out of their teens and gotten into the recruited army, thoughts of that tradition seemed petty against what they battled with everyday. There was just too much anger, greed and confusion for Anaba to hope that wish he made to come true. The bracelet frayed a little each day, each day they spoke less of the good times. It was not long before they separated ways and got posted to different regions for battle. But still, they would post letters checking on their families and kids and speak of a day when all this would die and they would go fishing with bare hands. One fine day, the letters stopped. Anaba replied no more, and no matter how much Chris tried to reach him, all the trails ended in despair. He waited patiently but at the tipping point he burst. He caught the train back to Michigan and stormed into the town he grew up in. Things had changed, the town no more wore the cloak of earth and it felt as though a part of him had been erased as well. 

           As he made his way to Anaba's house, a bad feeling crept over him. The air was too still, the river too silent and Anaba's breath too slow.  Anaba was ill with the pox and the priest didn't expect him to recover. 

''It would take a miracle to have him back with us'' Chris, by now in his mid 30's laid a warm hand over his friend in bed. Anaba's brown eyes shone with wisdom as he smiled back. Chris felt something under the covers and lifted it up to see his own work of craft. His friendship bracelet. He had almost forgotten about it, and now looking at it he felt his hope raise.

''Anaba, what wish did you make on the bracelet?  Surely you wished to live forever? Isn't that what a man wants?" Anaba smiled with a tint of sarcasm before his lips spoke. 

''What's eternity when a friend like you lives barely a century? No Chris, I didn't wish for immortality." Chris wore a puzzled and eye glazed look.

"Well then? What did you wish for?" 

"To not run from my life in fear or greed.'' came the answer. 

"Is that all Anaba? Did you not desire anything for our friendship?" Chris slightly felt disappointed but it wasn't his right to wish. 

"My dear friend, if I could I would wish to live beside you till you live, but this body gives up too soon. It cannot outlast the plans health has for me." 

Chris looked deep into his eyes... he had to understand the art of letting go now. And though it was expected of him, he couldn't master it before Anaba drew his last breath. 

            A situation shook the whole river bank the next day. The next dawn, his widowed wife walked into Anaba's room only to discover that Anaba's body was missing. But in his place was a wood carved soldier lying on two letters. One for his family and the other addressed to Chris. The letter read only a few lines, but it brought untold joy to him. 

''Chris, 

          Like I said, my body cannot win the trials of fate and be with you forever. But yet I long to. You have been there when no one was, and it feels as though you were made just for me to live in peace. Friends are, you are everything. That's why I wished my soul to be cast into this wooden soldier when my body gives up. So that you may keep me with you forever. And to repay what I cannot to you, may you pass this down to your sons and I will stay a guardian and friend for eternity.

Anaba"

         Many summers later, Chris rowed his canoe onto Kalamazoo against the sunset. The setting rays picked up the traces of greying hair as he rolled up his pants and waded into the shore. He placed Anaba on the crevice of the rocks and fished bare handed like they always wished they would. 

"We finally did it Anaba. Even though you gave up too soon, we still did". 

A Clean Slate

I didn't know if it was a bane or a boon, in fact I didn't know anything at all. My memory was erased, and my identity was only what everyone claimed...I just didn't feel it. They said I could swim, do gymnastics, write and sing...but I never had done any of them, according to me. So what was I? I was a recovering coma patient.
              A bunch of flowers near my bed, a crowd of spectating doctors, and the sun the only thing I recognized among them all. If there was one thing I remembered, it was that look of sympathy splashed across the faces of every soul that walked into my room. And I didn't hate it, I dreaded it. It was just too much confusion to process, yet I hoped to everyday. Random faces used to sit by my side for hours, offering stories that obviously held the plot of my own life. Did they think I was both ignorant and empty to not know what their objectives were? I wished I could look into the reoccurring faces and tell them that it simply was not coming back to me. Because unlike movies, life has one thing different...reality. And if it didn't feel up for it, there's no negotiating in that. The way I looked at it? Well, if these memories they spoke of, was never close to my heart, then one- they weren't regarded great enough for my mind to register deep. Two- that life wasn't worth carrying with again after memory returned. I decided to lie low for a while.

           By now, I knew my mother, for she and I already had a great relation. And some of these faces though very very young to be my family, pursued that they were. And another set of people, ones whom I bore resemblances to, just vanished after a few months. I wasn't ignorant. It was deeply saddening to look at your own life like a third person. I sort of felt pity for the old self. God knows what neglect I had to endure just because I was bound by blood to souls that cared none. One night as I lay awake to reflect what was in my hands I smiled a bit. They say God works in mysterious ways, and maybe this was one of them. Maybe I asked for deliverance from my family and he gave me a clean slate to paint my life. So how was I going to take it with the negatives?
        I turned it all to positives. I started hanging out with my mother's friends; they were like uncles and aunts that I dreamed of. And my own friends were the brothers and sisters I never had, soul sisters that meant much more and guardians evermore. By the end of 6 months, the doctors declared I will never get my memory back, but along with it I had built the best family for myself. I mean who gets a chance like that in life? I knew that the real people were somewhere gallivanting unaware that they'd been replaced and yes that hurt me a little, but I'm glad I didn't have to fake 'Oh I remember now!' dialogue and try for my whole life. Glad to know God can bend the rules and give us a second life... a clean slate.
          

Dressed in Love

Lend me an unsinkable boat,
One that, in my tears, can float,
And while its sails remain unfurled,
Slowly lead me to my unseen world.

Find me those invisible spectacles,
Ones I can see reality with
Where the light of mortality dulls,
There, my kingdom awakens from a myth.

Some choose love like a puzzle piece,
Checking all their boxes to make sure he's
The one before they step into love,
But sometimes love doesn't teach us how.

Sometimes, this world vanishes,
And from it, him and me it banishes,
Because we'd never last together in it,
Because our lives can't be coaxed to a perfect fit.

And so we'd fled to that kingdom,
Drop an anchor to rock bottom,
Dress down in love while it lasts,
Wrinkle a wee bit to witness time run past.

You see, some don't step, they fall from the brim,
Some etch memories instead of bask
And some find no answer when people ask,
'What is it that you see in him?' 

The Enlightened Driver- 3

Sounds like blabber? Click to read the previous pages!

No matter how much the police guard insulted and ripped down his dignity, the driver stood still, like little kids at school waiting for the teachers to get tired of yelling. And so it did work here too; the guard with the help of his subordinates pulled apart the heavy barricades and let the bus pass through. Right after we joined the highway, the bus was submerged in awkward silence. I imagined that everyone was digging through their dictionary of bad words, without much luck. That's when a comic relief occurred.

               A few aisles back, a hefty man woke up from his sleep and sighed. He marched to the driver, took a deep breath and -- Out came a string of 11 dirty slang curse words in full tilt and pitch. I counted because I never saw this man do anything in our 12 hours of travel till now. After that ended, he marched right back, settled in his chair and went back to sleep. I glanced sideways at the driver. Yup, he still sat motionless; that wise expression of serenity spread across his face. Sleep tugged at my eyes and I left it to the driver to hopefully go in the right direction while I dozed off in the few hours before morning. 

When I did awake, I frantically pushed across the curtains at a 'Mooooo' sound.  Sure enough, I was greeted with the sight of chickens flocking around aimlessly, old grandmas hurling broomsticks at our bus, and my own window grazing the edge of a hut. 

"What are you doing!!" Is this the way?" I asked, surprised at the break in my morning voice. 

"A drunk guy pointed the way down this lane... I'm following his instructions" Now it was my turn to smack my forehead. 

"Great... do whatever you want" I muttered as I walked back feeling sick as ever. I should've reached a long time a ago, sitting in these seats made my knees hurt.. Then I switched over to watching the video outside without the audio and whiled away time.

                    Eventually we made it to Kumbakonam, one stop away from the destination where everyone got off the bus except me. The old man made sure all of us filled out a complaint and had us sign it as well. The driver obliged by giving us his name.Then, the old man handed it to me.

"Since you're the only one going all the way, please give this back to the Bangalore office. This body of mine can't fight against this idiot and his actions anymore.'' Saying so he cursed the driver a bit more and caught another bus. After everyone had gone, the cleaner boy looked at me with pity.

"Mam aren't you leaving?"

"I paid to get off at Mayavoram and that's the only place I will get down at! Do you get that?" I raised my voice and then started dishing out directions to the driver. 

             If I said right, he'd turn left, if  I asked him to check the sign boards, he'd do so after crossing the sign itself. I ignored it all and made a call to my brother beforehand to save the time he'd waste on finding the office again. Finally my stop came, but he went the same loop again and again trying to get the office. I got down gave him directions and watched as he did the direct opposite. Some things never change.... 

   

 When it was time to get back to Bangalore, I asked the guy at the desk a million times if I was going to get the same driver. 

"Hahaha no mam', he's not our permanent driver."

"But he said he drives to Palazni?" I defended without knowing why. 

"Well did you ask him from where he drove to Palazni?" Uh oh I thought as I shook my head. The guy laughed more. Seems like the joke was on us, for the poor driver used to pick people up, four stops from Palazni and drive them there. A straight road, then a simple U-turn and back again. The guy never knew a highway, or exits, and never really had the need to go more than 40km/hr because he never drove out of the village!!!! Ha! I thought. For all the screaming and yelling we showered on him, the driver was sure enlightened enough to take it all in and still do his best to get us to our destination!