Diwali in Leicester

I celebrated my Diwali away from my family, as I had my college going on. Me and my roomy took a cab and braved through the traffic, pulling our classmate out of his slumber we reached just in time to see the celebrations begin. The kind cab driver showed us a shortcut. At subzero temperature clad in heavy coats reached the back gate of Kossington Park through an alleyway, shaded in the tiny alcove everybody was craning to get a clear glimpse of the fireworks. It had rained all day with light snowfall thereafter. I finally rubbed my hands together and braved to get my hands out of the pockets to get my cellphone. But as soon as the fireworks started I got transfixed to it and kept recording till the end.

All these miles away from India, I miss the chataiys and bombs in each gali and nukkad and sweets from relatives. Puja at home then running away with friends to create as much mishap as could be allowed. But going through Belgrave road at 9:00pm, seeing people rejoicing, and dancing, the sort of melancholy gripping all day finally was replaced by a sense of cheerfulness and completeness.

Waiting

waiting on the curb you left me,
waiting on the stone you pushed me on,
waiting till the end of time,
waiting for one word to set me free.

one smile that sets my heart afire,
one look to melt me through and through,
blossom my heart's desire,
still waiting for that kiss again on my cheeks.

waiting for the early showers,
waiting for you and me back again,
waiting to hold you near me,
waiting is all i've done in life.

for you to come back,
for you to stand beside me,
for you to hold hands,
for you to walk along with me.

waiting on the curb you left me,
still waiting for that one word to set me free...

Mirage

You cannot fathom
the depths of my emotions,
nor decipher
the meaning of my words,
b'cause I'm an illusion,
which'll allure you and leave you stranded

Whispers..

I love you,
I dare not say,
lest the people around might hear.

I love you,
As the silken ray,
touches your tender lips,

I love you,
As the cold streams wash over my feet.

I love you,
As I lie next to you,
don't speak lest the moment passes by.

Hold me so no worries are left,
No passions withheld,

So love me as if the world ends today.

The walk..

In spring, when woods are getting green,
I'll try and tell you what I mean,
In summer, when the days are long,
Perhaps you'll understand the song,
For this must ever be a secret
Kept from all the rest
between yourself and me.

Chillies!!!

I'm a very forgetful person, sometimes I myself am perplexed on what exact purpose did I embark a journey. So I return from where I started and try to remember, at times the laziness takes over so much that I abandon the thought of remembering altogether. On a day like this I returned very hungry from my class. Being an English February it was as usual quite cold and dark. Forced by the voices in my stomach I coaxed myself to cook something. "What now! again, aaagh!!! I really hate this, hmm.. this chilli looks good." These were the moments before the great havoc. So I heated some oil in a "kadhai" and dropped 2 of the dry red chillies I was mentioning earlier. At that very instance my phone rang and as habit I had left it in my room. "Oh! then I better go and get it".

After about half an hour I could hear people running and coughing badly outside my room, even people on the other side of the kitchen were coughing, "Interesting!what happened all of a sudden, an air of virus swept through the place, very weird indeed". Busy in my thought I didn't realise that it was not a viral air that swept through the corridors but infact the smoke of the burnt black chillies that used to be red, still happily crackling in the oil, on the stove that I had left open. "Oh! shit". By the time I came out there was nobody in sight, maybe they had left. I discarded the chillies and heaved a sigh of relief, what luck my flatmates (soft spoken, always smiling Chinese) would have surely kicked me out this time. It was the third time I had burnt food, luckily even the fire alarm didn't go off, "great!". Already my love for chillies have freaked poor Joy out, intermingled with the wild whistles that my cooker at times gave scared the chicken's out of Doris. So I speculated that it would be better for my health to sidle out from the scene of crime and not to be seen around the weapon in question. So what I was telling you about that I was hungry, see I again forgot, thats the issue, I even forget that I am hungry in the first place. So by the time I remembered I got myself some takeout from the burger van parked near the hall gate.

One night's toil

A cool summer night (Allahabad, 2005) we were sitting in our balcony as usual with no work at all, the power just returned, the air drying up the remains of sweat on our faces. A girl came running, informing us with a devilish smile. Pronto the info was given to the fellow respiters, thus in a matter of seconds the news spread like a forest fire through the corridors that the door to the forbidden place "the kitchen" is actually open. It was already past midnight and the chhipkali (aka warden) fast asleep. A few guards half slumbering were chatting with each other beating "khaini" and trying to get rid of the mosquitoes by flipping their hands vigorously.

The plan for the raid formulated. Groups divided. We felt like musketeers, a feeling of righteousness backing us up. So through the only passage that was not locked led from our rooms, no. 57, 58, 1, 2 and 3. Sometimes pairs, or at times triplets went n came with the loot, the guards still busy with the mosquitoes, the whole two sacks of cucumbers the only thing the bloody incharge had left unlocked had been cleared. By now a blue light had started appearing on the horizon and a tireness swept across my eyes. A light smile trickled through my roomie's face, finally calling it a night or a day all retired with a feeling of satisfaction imagining the proceedings of the next day.

Ashes

Alone we come in this world
and alone we have to depart
Alone we walk the earth awhile
and alone we sleep in the grave.
Like puppets in a puppeteer's show
we have to play our parts
And when the clock ticks twelve
all people have to part.
No bond is stable in this world
no future bright as sun.
From ashes and dust we have been borne
and to ashes we shall return.

Hope

Hoping against hope I am,

that a missed chance may come back to me.

A torn leaf I am Flowing with the wind.

Nowhere to go, nowhere to reach,

Hit by the gushes or lying by a lane.

Picked by some unknown wind,

Again to be lying Mudded.

Footprints

The bright sunshine as it's ray,
The tender light falls on the silent bay.
My footprints lay on the dampened sand,
As I remembered my life, was "grand".
Fanning about day and night,
They presented a merry sight.
But now I have is in this hand,
An empty palm and swirling sand.

Lamentation

My dearth will not be lamented I know,
A mere drops will dry before they fall,
For many a hearts I might have broken,
Many a false lives that I have lived.

I tried asunder to be of help,
to be counted among the earth's beloved.
But the fate had something else in mind,
The fall of worth,
for to tender hearts I was blind.

So I still stand here
and thine pardon I demand,
Blasphemy and Ignorance eventhough
you think I command.
But as a mere mortal I stand here,
A wain life and
melancholic despair.

Spitfire

There are some pastures
where the moon won't shine.
The path strays
and there's no light.

The smoke puffs up
in the scorching heat.
The charred ground
bellows ominously under my feet.

Blood spattered
is singeing the soil.
The sky so dark,
looks murky and foul.

The hell's empty and
the devils wander free.
With their bloodshot eyes
they look at me.

I see them dragging
the charred remains.
And the bits of those
who have no names.

Oh dear lord!
is this the human mind,
Is this what's left of
Good and Kind?

Cracking bones
and burning flesh.
Why thou left us,
in this mess?

Scarlet Manifestations

In the dead of the night when the wind blows through the open window,
the curtain silently rustles.
The unkempt dresser is scattered with odds and ends.
As I bend to pick the white roses
that lay among the broken shards of the vase.
I saw myself in the mirror.
A pale figure with sunken eyes.
The hair lying limp on the shoulder, slightly moved in the breeze.
The cold and peaceful night,
the darkness broken by occasional flicker of the moonlight among the clouds.
Blood trickled out as the soft skin of my finger touched the shiny silica particle.
But it doesn't hurt anymore.
It feels warm and wet.
The darkness slowly sweeping in and engulfing all senses.