THE LAST LOCAL

The hustle bustle at the Churchgate station had died down by the time I walked into the station. There was a lot of pending work and I had to stay up late to sort out all the mess. By the time i reached the station it was 12:55 in my watch and the station was almost devoid of any life. I could spot a few men waiting for the last local and a Chaiwala making his way to the exit. I stood with my back leaning against a pillar in my blue denims, grey T-shirt that said PHILOSOPHY IS QUESTIONS THAT MAY NEVER BE ANSWERED. RELIGION IS ANSWERS THAT MAY NEVER BE QUESTIONED and a pair of blue trainers to complete the look. I shuffled through the list of songs on my playlist and found my favorite song "VIVA LA VIDA". I put on my green headphones and played the song at full blast. I closed my eyes and the song began. I loved the lyrics of the song. With my eyes closed I sensed a fragrance that was something out of this world. I had never smelt anything so mesmerizing. It was a very unique fragrance. I wanted to open my eyes but my gut wouldn't let me do that. As I stood there mesmerized someone gently touched my hand. The touch was so gentle and soft, it was almost like a caress. I slowly opened my eyes. The next thing I saw was close to a dream. I had never envisaged another prettier being. There was something mysterious in the air. It tasted so sweet and pure.  I had to pinch myself to check if i was awake because the girl who was standing in front of me looked like a dream. She had a complete angelic face. I stared at her blue dreamy eyes and once again i was lost. Her eye lids kept fluttering like a butterfly's wing at regular intervals to hide the blue color of her iris. There was no GARDEN OF EDEN  that could match her beauty.  As my eyes darted away from her eyes, I noticed other facial features of this mysterious woman. A plump nose aligned straight down to her lips. She had full lips painted cherry red suiting her heart shaped face. Her auburn hair blew across her face leaving her disgruntled. She was dressed in a mango green skirt that almost swept the floor and a white tank top with an ed hardy jacket, unusual choice, for a girl i thought. I noticed she was almost on the verge of anorexia as she was so lean that the slightest of the breeze would carry her away. She would have been 25 or something close to that. She was saying something and I couldn't register it at first. Later out of frustration, she plucked out my earphones and gave me the wide eyes bewildered look. She asked in the most exasperated tone'Hey, Mr. I-don't-care-if-a-person-is-talking-to-me-for-hours-but-I-won't-stop-staring-with-my-dumb fuck-expression, would you care to tell me what  time is the last local??
I was abashed. She had caught me off guard. Seeing me turn pink, she chirped in again, "oh gosh, you look like a tomato, I bet more humiliation would make you a beetroot. I believe, I am not going to get any replies here so might as well walk away.' As she turned her back towards me, I yelled "Hey, wait up. The last local is at 1.10 which is like 5minutes from now. Sorry was taken aback by your pretty face." This time she smiled and held out her hand and introduced herself as Lavanya. I shook hands with her and introduced myself as Aarav and asked her where she was headed. She was going to Bandra as well. She asked me about my work and told me about hers but I wasn't paying attention to either of it because I was too busy staring at her eyes that sparkled as she spoke. As we were talking the train steamed into the station. She asked me if I would like to accompany her. I was beaming and I agreed immediately. We got into the train and got window seats opposite each other and we were chatting and the train slowly departed from the station. I just kept praying that the train never reached Bandra and I could spend as much time with this angel as I could. She seemed to be at ease with me. She spoke a lot about her dreams and her ambitions. I was quite sure that by the end of this journey I could write a biography on Ms. Lavanya Sharma. As she spoke the wind would blow across her face and her hair would blow everywhere and she would try settling it but in vain. I asked her if she was seeing anybody to which she replied that she was single but just not ready to mingle yet. I asked her reasons and she gave me vague explanations which i didn't believe was true but i did not want to push her so i left it there. She asked me if i was single and I told her I was and she found it quite hard to believe. she kept saying " Your kidding! No way! your so smart and handsome, any girl would fall for you". I asked her if she would have fallen for me to which she replied quirkily, "Why do you think i asked you for the time out of everybody on the platform?". That startled me again. This girl was sharp and smart. She knew how to play with words and startle a person. I was totally attracted to her. "Agla station Bandra, Next station Bandra", the voice of the annoying lady blared through our compartment. We both got off the train and walked towards the exit. I wanted to ask her for a coffee but I didn't want to come across as a desperate guy so i just waited. I got her a rickshaw and before getting in she said "Hey, nice meeting you Aarav. We should meet up sometime for coffee or something. It was fun today. " Again she stunned me. I asked her if she'd like to share numbers and was more than relieved to see that she dint say a no. So we exchanged numbers and I promised her that I would call her back soon. She said Bye and the rickshaw zoomed off. I stood there like a mad guy in the centre of the road looking at the rickshaw and smiling. This was possibly the best local journey ever. I looked at my phone and saw her number and texted her ""Hey let me know once you reach home and be safe. I had fun today. Thanks.""

TRIBUTE

Eyes that swallow 

thy beauty   

O'lake,

magnificent and serene,

deep contemplation pouring 

out beneath those lashes.

Swans dancing around 

those kohled eyes              

throwing sparks of

shimmering lights

and a million 

unrevealed truths.

3 paintings for that teacher

Even though these 3 paintings are not even close to work of an artist but they are a tribute to my childhood memories. Memories of that teacher who gave me a chocolate <alpenlibe> for every perfect drawing that i made. Earlier in the morning, mom was narrating stories about my childhood. She recollected the memories of those days when i took drawing lessons. The teacher who taught me how to draw lines and then make mountains and a lake was was MRS. CHAUDHARY, i still remember her face. She had a double chin, a round face with cheeks clinging to her wrinkled skin and she was fair. She had a peculiar voice with a very sigh soprano. She was always clad in crisp saris and sleeveless blouses. She used to make me sit on her dining table and instruct me to draw birds and whatever came to my mind. 

She let me dream and conjure up images in my mind which i could reproduce on paper. She pushed me forward to dream big and dream 

Artistic. I could never think of anything beyond four snow clad mountains, a lake that flowed till the bottom of the white paper dividing the paper into two and a hut with birds soaring over its head.

She forced me to think out of the box. Think of new possibilities and new ways to draw the same things but in a different manner. Later one 

day i showed her a picture which contained the 4 mountains, only this time they were on the left hand side corner. the four of them crumpled 

together bearing each others weight and a small lake that could hold the glacial waters just below it. A boat sailed through the lake waters. And the hut was right on top adjacent to the mountains. right below this were birds flying everywhere. I made green grass and a tree with apple and orange clinging its branches and the picture was complete. Only this time i had the same thought but a different way of putting it on sheet. For teaching me those butterflies, those pigeons and my favorite dinosaurs, these paintings would be my token of thanks to you ma'am.

Thank you. 

BIRD TALES

It is 15 past 6 ' 0 clock in the evening. I sit by my window sill with random thoughts flicking through my mind and staring at the unusually round sun which is ready to retire for the day. 

Long gone are those days  when i marveled over the beauty of parrots and pigeons sitting on those crooked brown branches of apple trees, tweeting and chirping gaily. 

Seems like the trees are no more their crash zone for they seem to have taken a fancy to the wires connecting the two tall buildings together more.

 As the skies turn from yellow to faintish orange to purple and finally dissolve into indigo, the birds retreat back home flying past horizons.

An eagle soars through the sky with its wings beating rapidly across its body. The eagle scoops up a dead pigeon and reaches the tree. The chaos then begins. A million birds departing for their nests fly back to visualize the bloody scene. 

Some of them candidly cling to the wires unperturbed by the pandemonium. They perform acrobatics in the sky.They all have condolences to pay for their dead comrade. They are cawing , tweeting, chirping and cooing to sympathize with the deceased.


A BOOM in the atmosphere causes a panic attack. The birds flutter at each other and seek for the sky. In the midst of all this commotion, the eagle rises again after enjoying a scrumptious meal. Sensing all this mayhem, the eagle circles around the flock of birds choosing its prey. 

White mischief

When the sun goes down

and the skies turn indigo,

they flap their wings restlessly,

a hark a hoot a coon,

a soft musical melody in the evening air,

somewhere in the deep far woods 

They come in flocks

dressed in white,

quickly taking refuge 

in the isolated banyan tree.

Disappearing into the

ghastly branches,

I search for the white

but in vain

as they have already 

blended and camouflaged.

They fly away distantly 

before long i realize 

that the brown speck

was the white dove.

Mystic remains

                    
      

                                      

                                                                                                          

She stood amongst the ashes with deep contemplation camouflaged in her eyes.
Ashes of the memories that she burnt down with her own trembling yet determined fingers. she watched the fire hunt down those last memories with anguish. The smoke filled her lungs with disgust and hatred. She watched the massive heap of ashes for what seemed like eternity till an intruder knocked on her door. As she turned to address the door, a slight wind picked up. She was uncertain more than ever. As she took the first step, a hark in the far end called to her. Frantic blue eyes staring into nothingness. A knock again startled her rigid stance. While she contemplated, a violent wind blew across her face. Something clung to her leg. Her blue eyes were locked on the door. Another knock and she was determined to answer it. As she moved she looked down at herself and saw the Polaroid that clung her leg. The Polaroid shook her with chronic hysteria.


The polaroid was a picture of him in his gardening pants with a pitchfork and a rusted spade.


She gave out a cry of despair. It was the loss of a loved one that haunted her. She knew there was no coming back. He was not going to return back to her.  Ploughing back those tears which she promised him she would not shed, Pools of water collected under those battering eyelids.
The person she longed to be with at the moment, the person who brought the sparkle and gleam in her eyes, the person she would die for had abandoned her to tend to the call of duty. Duty that was more pressing and crucial than any other thing to him.


Last she saw of him was when he feigned catching those 10 little flying kisses thrown to him like bubbles blown into the blue sky and capturing them deep within his heart as little Emma waved him good bye as he disappeared behind the yellow fence.
                                                                                                                                                                                                               

Vivid memories flash up as she sees baby Emma sleeping with his t-shirt neatly tucked under her arms and a sign of peace spread over her face. As she contemplates the loss she might sense once she wakes up, she looses herself to tears.                                          
Emma dressed in a white gown stood amongst a thousand million memories, promises, wishes and aspirations. Her eyes was a reddish haze and her hair blew gently caressing her wet cheeks. She placed the garland of white flowers on the white marble and ran back to Jane. Jane was a mess. Her eyes were parched and she was shell shocked. She knew of nothing. She had never loved someone so dearly. To loose him was to loose her. She felt desolate and detached. She had lost all hopes for a healthy and a happy life. Emma clutched Jane. Jane snapped out of trance and looked down at her daughter. Emma looked up with a tear streaked face. For her, it was a father, a friend  a comrade she had lost in comparison to Jane who lost her love of her life. Emma was therefrom Jane's soul existence of living. Jane lifted Emma off the ground and weeped like a baby girl. Soon the tears turned into hiccups and Jane realized that it was time for her to say her final goodbye.

As this memory faded , the knocks grew thundrous. Jane was more than annoyed to answer who ever it was behind those wooden doors. She just wanted to sit against the window sill and be lost in a world where he still existed and Emma smiled in between relishing her chocolate bar.
But all that one wishes may not come true.