28 Sep 2014

Dear Querida...

I raise the gun and shoot. Without flinching, without fear. The recoil from the gun shakes me but I stand my ground and watch him die slowly, his eyes wide with fear, betrayal and guilt. Oh yes!! I feel my chest heave with rapid breathing.

"Oh dear, that is one gruesome thought!"

I jump a foot in the air guiltily, looking for the owner of the voice. But I am quite alone in the park and no one seems to be around even near the marble bench on which I was seated moments ago. I feel my sweaty palms as if I actually was holding a gun and wipe them on my black skirt . My heart beat returns to normal as I take in my surroundings and sit back on the cool surface of the bench, wiping my forehead to calm myself down. The voice must have been my own thought, of course.
"No, it certainly wasn't your imagination.


I look around again, hoping to catch someone and definitely, this time I notice a man leaning against the nearest oak tree, wearing a black overcoat and olive pants, folding his arms over his chest, smiling at me. 

RUN! The voices in my head scream at once, but of course, I do not run. I give the man a look of disdain and go back to killing people in my head. And then I realize in a heartbeat, he had just answered my thoughts. Perspiration forms on my forehead as I slowly look back at the man. But he is not there! 

"Because I am right here, Querida."

My heart stops as I turn to my left and find him seated right next to me! I let out an involuntary gasp and start to get up, keeping a wide distance between us as I observe change of expressions on his face. 

"Look, I am not a stalker or creep or whatever you call those humans that hunt women. Or men. Or people in general." He smiles apologetically,

Yeah right! Thinking, I start walking, when I realize I've not moved an inch from the bench. I look up in horror and feel tears welling up in my eyes. Here I was, imagining killing someone a few minutes ago and now I could not even move. My heart starts beating like crazy and a thought flashes through my mind. May be he is here to kill me

"Always so dramatic." He chuckles, rolling his eyes in quite a similar manner to what I give in real life.

"Querida, You are unable to move because fear has rooted you to the spot. And I certainly do not intend to kill you."

I notice the similarity between the way we talk as I stare at him with open distrust.

"And curiosity."

"Will you stop doing THAT? Who are you?!" I intended to scream but I end up whispering. 

"Oh don't be so afraid. Stop jumping to the worst conclusions as well. I am just your guardian angel. And I had to make an appearance in the way you would like."

I definitely didn't like people materializing out of thin air. Wait, my what? 

Seriously? What?

"Seriously Yes. I am just your guardian angel." Just. My. Guardian. Angel. I realize I am gaping with shock, not really registering any of it.

He folds his legs underneath him and points at a bud of violet flower with his finger. Trust me, I see the bud open like a roll of tissue paper, oh wait, bad analogy, like a, well, a flower blooming in all it's violet glory. If I wasn't seeing it, I would not have believed it.

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"You would have. You always expect the extraordinary to happen. Honestly, sometimes even I wonder what you would think if you could see us. May be you will try to cast a spell or something." 

Or run.

"Yeah, may be that too!" He chuckles motioning me to sit down. Out of sheer curiosity I do as he says."I will tell you in a minute why I have manifested myself."

"Why are you a guy? Shouldn't you be a woman?" I blurt out, wondering if he can know my thoughts, he probably has seen me do everything. EVERYTHING. The thought makes me recoil, but he does not interrupt me this time. I breathe in and out, calming myself, when he speaks.

"I can be anything or anyone, depends on the situation. My essence is in people around you, who love you and in times of grave danger or distress or even a slip up, someone might turn up."

"Like my brother?"

"Like your brother. Like your grandma, whenever you've felt lonely. Like the friend who spoke to you all night when you felt low. Like that dog on the street you play with everyday, when you return from here." He says simply, like it is an obvious thing to understand.

"No, it is not obvious of course, Querida. I am just saying, I can be anyone, in anyone, depending on where you are."

"Okay. And?" I have hit a mental black wall. I have trusted this stranger, claiming...

"I am not claiming, I am. The reason I am here is to tell you that you don't have to feel lonely all the time."

"I am not lonely!" I stare at him indignant. He has morphed his black coat to a more warmer plaid shirt and jeans. Hmmm.

"Oh well, I thought I would feel like I belong here. And you are lonely Querida, which is the reason why I am here." 

Suddenly, I feel like an observer, imagining a lone girl sitting in the corner most part of the lush green park, on a cold marble bench, talking to someone who might be visible only to her. 

"Others can see me, Querida. My visibility is my own choice. Don't think about what others will think and listen to me. I know your life. Unusually so. I was assigned to you when you were barely seven months old. As in the time of your birth."

I try to listen to him, and then I realize, I was a premature. Seven month born.  

"Good. I was assigned...do you remember when you almost evaporated when the knob of temperature on your incubator was turned on high by mistake, I saved you then."

"Yeah, of course I remember. Seven months infants remember the details of their just beginning lives." I comment. He chooses to ignore. 

"I was making a point. Since that day, I have not left your side. I know I know you think that you've been saved at the last minute by a lot of things and sometimes not even that, but those were the events required to help you grow. And during other moments, I have saved you."

Is this an account of what good you did for me? I think but do not speak.

"No Querida, I  notice that you have been hurt so much that you are losing faith. And that is why I have to be here, to tell you that no matter wherever you are, I will be there to tell you that you will make it through. It may seem tough and downright impossible to act upon your faith and you may feel that life is not worth living for, given your circumstances, but I will make it worth it right before you are about to give up. I am your friend, benefactor, confidante, girlfriend, boyfriend, father, mother and anyone who you would ever need. You just have to believe once again that you are much more than what you think you are."

I realize his words are affecting me and emotions awash me in torrents as I start sobbing. I was in a pretty bad shape. I have no job, no family and mounting debts to pay. Dying seemed like a better option.

"You are precious, Querida and that is why I was assigned to you. You were an indomitable spirit even before birth and that should not change here. Reach out to me in times of distress and I will make you remember that the good times are just round the corner. I am to give you hope and lift you on your feet once again. Always." 

His words reach to my mind and open the floodgates. I cry and cry and cry as the wind picks up speed, bringing rains with it. 

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Memories, old and new flash through my mind, showing people who cared, really cared for me. I feel a great warmth swelling in my heart as the cool rain drops seep through my dark blue shirt making it look like a crumpled wave. I sob until I feel warm arms around me. I sob into his shoulders, feeling like I am really not alone. His hold is not tight nor loose and he is holding his breath. I realize he must be hearing my thoughts as I feel him chuckle. 

"Thank you." I wipe my eyes as he smiles and hugs me once
again, as I close my eyes in his protective, pure embrace.

"Ma'am, should I drop you home?" I jerk open my eyes to notice that the old caretaker of the park is standing behind the bench, with a large yellow umbrella. I notice that my friend is no where to be seen.

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I am here Querida. In your heart. In him. Go home. I will see you over coffee, till you find a worthy companion.

"Yes, that would be lovely, thank you." I smile at the old man and get up to leave, feeling the presence of my G.A. invisible beside me

May be I wouldn't be lonely anymore.

Of course not Querida.


PS: Querida means Darling in Spanish. My recent fav. word. <3

17 Aug 2014

Let's Play A Game.

Ever since I could remember,
Everything inside of me, 
Just wanted to fit in.

I was never one for pretenders,
Everything I tried to be, 
Just wouldn't settle in. 

I wake up with my eyes sand papery, feeling the aftermath of a bad dream. I can hear yelling from the other room. Gah, my mother is screaming at me again to get up. Groggy and weirdly tired, I turn to check the time. 6:30 AM?! What was wrong with her? I try to pull my thoughts together and sit up. 

"You f*king lazy piece of sh*t! I am hungry!" How lovely. 
"Coming Mother."

She glares at me as I walk to the kitchen after washing my face with water. Hygiene and freshness shall come later. I fix an omelette and slices of bread for her, brewing sugarless espresso for myself. She greedily snatches the plate from my hands and switches on the TV. 

Before you judge anything about my life, I must tell you, my mother is an alcoholic. Uh, not just an alcoholic, but a non-recovering raging alcoholic. Sigh! I do not have a brother or father and my relatives no longer remain in touch because of the lovely treatment my mother bestows on them. So, I guess you can imagine how much I look forward to stay at my beautiful home. I down the scalding espresso and get ready for work. Oh, I am an intern at the public library, I babysit too after work and then on weekends, I work as a waitress in the local diner. I love books. I don't love my mother. I did. But that feeling is dead inside, which is as scary as it seems. Feeling dead inside

If I told you what I was,
Would you turn your back on me?
And if I seem dangerous, 
Would you be scared?

As I begin to leave the house, after hurriedly preparing lunch for her and rushing out of the kitchen, my mother starts crying. Taking a deep calming breath, I walk back inside and ask her.

"You don't want me to enjoy myself (Sniff).

I give her a blank look, frantically realizing, I will be extremely late if her everyday charade doesn't end. Oh, she is crying not because I am leaving, but she needs money. 

"Mother, there's money in your drawer. I have kept food in the fridge. If you need anything else, let me know." I hand her another 200/- and leave. I had no time for this. 

Things had to end. Seriously. I would rather be alone. No, I can't be alone. I have to take care of her. Even if it kills me, till she is, I will take care of her. 

On that hopeful note, I get to the library and immerse myself in arranging dusty piles of old books and notes.It's strangely calming and before I know, Mrs. Karen is standing where I am and giving me an appreciative smile. I glance at her, absolutely clueless when she hands me 1000/- and says,

"Good work Rhea! Take this for today. You have done well. Now go, party!" She pats my back, while I stare at the treasure bill I have. Grinning, I leave for the babysit work and realize that my phone is chiming in. It's my mother. I instantly decide to hangup, but a funny feeling skitters down my spine. I pick up. 

"Rhea! Where have you kept my cigarettes!!!" She screams hoarsely in my ears.

"Mother, I have not kept them. Please don't smoke, it's not good for you." I remind her.

"I know you piece of shit. You want my money. I know you! It's that Tim boy, you are running off with. You have MY cigarettes.

Uh, my mother was also losing it. I decide to get back home.

I get the feeling just because, 
everything I touch isn't dark enough,
if this problem lies in me.
I am only a man, 
with a candle to guide me.
I am taking a stand to escape,
what's inside me.

As I am about to enter the lane where my house is, I notice police sirens and fire brigade. With a sick premonition, I reach my house and that's where the entire parade is. My house is not  on fire, but the front door is burned down. I pull in with a screech and without bothering to look back run towards the house, when strong male hands stop me. I look at the officer whose blue eyes are filled with concern and....and a bad news. 

"Are you Rhea?"

Speechless, I nod. 

"I am sorry about your mother. She, well, she tried to light a cigarette with the gas flame and the alcohol around her quickly caught up. She tried to run out I believe, but...it was too late.

Looking at my faint expression, he finishes with a rush as I stagger in his arms. Things happen in a rush after that. Mother's charred beyond-recognition body is wrapped in a blue cover and the paramedics take her away. My neighbors are all there, some are hugging me, whispering consolatory empty words in my ears. The buzz in my ears keeps getting louder as I watch everyone leave. I am cold all over, as I walk to the bedroom and fall on the bed.

I recall...in a twisted sick way, I had forgotten to turn off the stove before I left for work.

Monster, A Monster,
I've turned into a Monster.

PS: Lyrics of Imagine Dragons - Demons form the basis of this story. 
PPS: I love Imagine Dragons :D :D

13 Aug 2014

The Blue Cloud

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It might have blue or it might have been black,
but who knows what it is, when I have turned my back.
I think it is best to accept the reality, 
that I am nothing, a mere fatality. 

Oh, I do not believe their praises, 
They are invisible, invisible like my bruises.
The ones you cannot fathom, reach beyond my soul,
They have engulfed me and can take you whole.

You tell me someday I will survive,
I feel it is too late for me to revive.
You cannot see the blue or the black cloud,
My screams inside cannot be heard out loud. 

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Today I can see the stars beyond the blue,
And I now it is time for me to renew.
I can see them calling, beyond the concrete border,
The pain would be brief and will set things in order.

Depression is an issue that has been taken very lightly by many of us. It is not just about feeling low or sad, but is a mix of multiple emotional and physical changes. Years ago, I went through the WHO's video on depression called the "The Black Dog" of depression. I am posting the link here. It is a wonderful video and gives an insight into the world of someone who suffers from depression. The death of Robin Williams shocked many, including me. Who knows what pain was he in. Do have a look at the video. It is inspiring and real. 

PS: You can also read more by following this link  Black Dog Institute

27 Jul 2014

Thou Shall Be the Wrath!

Her insides were burning with the fury she felt at the people who were looking at her. No! They are nothing! She screamed mentally, gave all of them a burning look and took off. Her wings slashed the skies as she flew in circles above the kingdom. They were liars. All of them, with their sweet talk and words of concern. She seethed at the peaceful face of one of the angels who was looking at her from below, mouthing words which irritatingly felt like, "Please come back, we love you!". 

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These people! These filthy self-righteous people! 

She looked for a place where she could vent out all the emotions raging inside her, the unfairness of it all, the...the stupidity to choose Savlanut over her, because she was the one who had endured and suffered and bore it all. With Patience!!! She was the youngest among all the angels and they were all just too dim witted in their path of righteousness, to seek glory! She had enough! ENOUGH! She could not stand them and their sickly sweet attitude. 

She found a tower finally, where she could brood. Also, there was a weird burning tingling sensation towards the end of her spine but may be that was because she had been flying for too long. She sat at the wide tower that marked one of the gates of Heaven and screamed in anger, but inaudibly. That was her specialty. She could mute herself when she willed it. But it was hard, she felt her eyes burn too, with tears and what felt like...blood?! She looked at the back of her hands horrified, there was blood on them! She cringed in fear and took off again to check her reflection in the Lake of Wisdom. The burning sensation at her back was also increasing at a dull pace. She found the lake and made for its banks. 

She looked fine. Her reflection just looked a little grimy, but there was no blood. Not even on the back of her hands. What? She pulled at her hair with frustration. Even this bloody lake was deceptive. Enraged with her body on flame she decided to breach the gates and enter the realms of humans, the mortals, the dispensable. As she exhaled and inhaled, a sudden gust of darkest wind, dark as the night and impenetrable as an angel's womb, surrounded her. Panicking at the sense of loss of direction, she pushed herself up and beyond the cloak of smoke. Where had she seen this before? Where?

The Hell. 

Her mind supplemented the answer as she realized she was almost close to the core of the Earth, where Satan lived, albeit tied up by the God himself. But that did not mean he could not wield power or did not have his cronies. As she stood before him, lost and a little bit scared, he gave her a charming smile. Why did God chain him up in the first place? Shut up! What are you thinking! Her mind chagrined. She continued to stare at him with interest, when he spoke in a voice so soothing and gentle, she felt that both of them were equally wronged. There were warning bells in ears, but well, who cared.

"Hello Ira." He said. 

Ira? What strange language is that? She thought but did not respond.

"It seems like an appropriate time that you join my world. With that passion inside you, it feels unfair that you stay with the Pure ones." He spoke, inviting her and caressing her with his words.

"What do you mean? You disgusting monster!" She blurted out without thinking. There it was, the rage again...when he just smiled at her. The anger started to simmer inside her as she felt like throttling him. What a belittling gesture! How dare he!! She wished she had claws or a weapon, anything with which she could hit him and there it was, in her clenched fists, a leather cord whip, which could torment a mortal soul with wounds which would not heal for days or weeks or months. She smiled despite herself. What was happening to her?

"Come on Ira, you want to hit me, don't you? I will give you just the right chance to do so. And on mortals! Imagine, how simple minded creatures they are...who give in to their stormy emotions. You can control all of them." He said in a honey sweet seductive voice, unlike the angels.Their voices grated on her nerves. 

"I...but I am God's!" She stuttered, knowing she had already betrayed her God, with the rage seething inside her, the unforgiving and relentless feelings inside her. 

"Are you?" He smiled and she felt everything go dark around her. It was eons before she woke up and noticed a throbbing on her shoulder blades. She touched them and was horrified. The tingling at the base of her spine had abated. And now there were her wings, long, wide, lustrous and black. She wore what seemed like a blood red gown. It was strangely satisfying. Forbidden. She felt an aura of power pulse around her. Thick and dark.
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"What am I to do?" She asked.

"You are the Wrath. You can destroy anything you want. From lives to those who love. It's all yours'. The World is yours." She heard Satan's voice in her head and thought of the mortal world. And lo! There she was, at the mere thought! She felt extremely hungry though. She realized she could move and fly without being seen. She crept up at a couple, where a man was telling his wife to give him some bread, while she insisted she will take some time. Ira touched the man gently on the shoulder and saw him change. He picked up the plate and threw it on the floor. Ira couldn't help but smile and felt herself a little full. Oh, so this is how she would feed. She cackled and saw a lighting cut across the skies. She will have fun in the mortal world.  And how right she was.

PS: When Ira's conscience was clean, the font color is purple, where it is maligned, it's red. Hence the disparity. Also, Savlanut is Hebrew for Patience or tolerance.

PPS: Among the seven deadly sins, Anger or Wrath or Ira (Latin) was considered to be ultimate rejection of love and acceptance. It also meant that the entity either hated oneself or the other so much, that it would kill the other or itself. The punishment for anger in Hell was to be dismembered alive. You can read about all of this in the links below.

19 Jul 2014


To keep standing on my gnarled feet was becoming tough with each passing day, especially now when the monsoons had set in. You know how it feels when you are young and fresh, watching the world with a renewed perspective everyday. But now, when I am not sure if I will regain my youth ever, I know that I will just have to wait and watch how the things around me change. 

The energetic young ones who cannot wait to turn their faces towards the sun, while I wait for the sun to disappear so that I don't die faster in the heat. My children left me long time ago, not sure, if they will ever come back. They grow so quickly that I don't remember how they sounded. I remember their cries and the way I had sheltered them, but never the conversations. Now I cannot seem to recall any details of them growing  up and leaving. It's all become a blur now. 

Rain is falling in torrents around me as I see little creepers and weeds taking shelter beneath my feet. I no longer have the shadow of green canopied leaves and the fruits that I bore. I see all the others, green and alive, as I wait...for once my mother said, it was not necessary that I will die if I was bare. But this time, I felt, having lived more than 50 seasons that it was my time. 

As I see the sky grow dark, I feel a trembling within me... I fear that my time has come. That I will pass out without even knowing that I am dead. Then I see, a tiny sprouting near my toe. Was it me growing back again? I was dreading the morning, so I just remained still, closing my eyes, hopefully not forever. The morning comes with a fresh light, and I notice that I haven't flinched in the sunlight. I open my eyes to notice a brown myna cooing in my ears and look down, I have grown a twig!!! I was becoming alive again! I cried in happiness as the rains set in again. Being a tree wasn't so bad after all. 

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4 Jul 2014


In the bliss of my reflection, 
I found myself.

In the silence of my home, 
I found myself.

In the darkness of the night,
I found myself.

When I stopped searching for me, 
I found myself.

"Sheltered by the Wind" by Helenka Weirxbicki 
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2 Jul 2014

Et I...

The misty smell of her hair and the dewiness of her skin,
Made him wonder now, where had she always been?

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While everyone would talk and smile, laugh and play around,
With a yellowed book in her hands, on a bench she would be found,

Sometimes he would see her mutter something and smile,
He swore in that moment he would see the whole world shine,

Then there would be days she would sit quietly on the bench,
With nothing to read, her hands in the pockets of her trench,

And he would feel the skies turn dark, like her mood, somber and gray,
He would feel a chill then, which had nothing to do with a cold day.

Sometimes he would feel, she was looking at him, when he was running behind his dog,
The dog would be back in a moment and she would be smiling, hidden behind the bookish fog.

He felt himself fall for her, but fear had gripped his heart, for she was no ordinary woman,
On a dry dry day, when no one was around, he saw her bloom a rose, in the cold autumn.

It was a secret he knew she knew, he saw,
But he wasn't mistaken, the rigidity in her, an aloofness so raw.

That day she looked at him, him watching her and called him to her,
He had bought a ring, not for love, to give his company to her,

She laughed, he noticed, but had tears in her eyes,
"I am evil, but can you not stop loving me" she fell silent with her cold sighs.

"I don't think you are evil. I saw you bloom a rose" he said, recalling that magical experience.
"That shouldn't have happened, I intervened, I was selfish" she cried, he held her, close to cease the turbulence. 
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"It wasn't you, you should know. You are like me. From day one I knew." He said, revealing his true form,
"Are you a witch too?" She looked both surprised and shocked, as she looked at him, like a sun shining through the storm.

"Yes, and I sought permission, before that rose bloomed. Your moods affect the weather, and you bring happiness or doom" He said as he took out the ring.

She nodded and looked at the sky, the chill was going and the sun was shining,
If she had been weird, he was one too.

PS: Et I means You and I in Latin 

19 Jun 2014

Infusions to blow away Confusions

DISCLAIMER: All the views expressed on this blog are mine and Wings of Harmony, Mystical Skeptical Me and I are in no manner responsible for any action, impact or effect it may have upon anybody. Please use your own discretion. 

On that sweet note, I will begin. ;)

I recently had a chance to taste Rose flavored tea, which my brother got for us from Goa and needless to say, I keep looking forward to having a sip once a day, just for the fresh burst of fragrance and flavor which would invigorate my senses. This also reminded me of my habit of seeking naturally flavored beverages whenever I have felt my immunity (both physical and spiritual) go down. This post is just about that. Healing yourself spiritually and physically while drinking the most common of brews you might have come across!

What are some drinks which you can use to uplift your senses?

1. Water: Yes, the best source to alleviate anxiety is water. Instead of guzzling it chilled and causing yourself to bloat up, whenever you drink water, drink slowly, especially if you are standing, which in itself is not considered healthy in both Hinduism and Islam, the reason being the digestive problems it might cause. Therefore, if you have time,ensure that you sit and drink water, sip by sip and slowly.

It will not only fill you up but the process of slow drinking will help in clearing your mind.
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2. Green Tea: You can make yourself a cup and add a little ginger and few basil (Tulsi) leaves and have it warm. I have tried this and it has helped me immensely if I have felt emotionally down or a little off. You can replace green tea with normal tea, but just for color. The biggest thing is your thought process, for any healing to take place, and drinking something with natural substances, only adds to the overall process.

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3. Ginger Tea: In small quantity, average cup of ginger tea can soothe that ticklish throat and also ease your anxious nerves. You can also add cardamom for that added burst of flavor. Best for treating chest congestion and colds.
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4. Rose Tea: Known to give the drinker a rosy mood, Rose tea can be made at home by adding dried (in shade) leaves to your normal everyday tea powder (which should not have any other added flavor). It also soothes your breathing process and helps in uplifting the mood.

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5. Lemon+Mint Tea/Water: Best for summers and for quenching thirst that seems to grip every time you are out. Mint Leaves, after Tulsi leaves are heaven sent. Make liquor tea and add some Pudina leaves. You have a heady fresh concoction ready.

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I also make Mint+Milk tea, which is not only refreshing but cools you from within. The idea is to add the leaves in boiling water before you add milk and tea leaves. It is another infusion I look forward to, in summers. I am no expert when it comes to brewing concoctions, but these are few things which I have tried and know in my heart to soothe me when I need them to.

Beautiful Cup and Saucer set, I received as a gift from a beloved friend.

Also, try lighting a candle and sip any of the teas above, while in your balcony or while looking out from your window. Few minutes for yourself is the best thing you can do for yourself. 

Blessed be.

PS: You can tell me what drinks you use, to make yourself feel at ease :)

14 Jun 2014


Hello? I want...Hello, Sir, I want to report a murder."

"Yes...in my house...my wife is dead. Please...Please come here and take a look!"

He stammered into the phone and hung up. The police promised to be there in 20 minutes. It was a long time, very long time. Especially with a dead body inside your house. He could not decide whether he should cry or scream or just wait for her to get up. But she will not wake up, because someone killed her. He shuddered at the thought. He wasn't expecting her to be dead... meaning he had wished that she should die, but not like this. Her sprawled body with blue patches and open eyes will haunt him forever. He stood at the door of his bedroom, staring at her. She still looked beautiful, cold, but beautiful. He wanted to throw up.

He slid  on to the floor, unable to take the weight of his grief anymore. As he slumped down, he heard someone sobbing. Please, please...I can't take this anymore. I wish you would die. It would be so much better. He froze. 

It was his wife. She was staring at him with her eyes filled with tears. She was alive! She was alive! 

"But why are you dressed like that!" He sputtered in shock, seeing his wife dressed in green scrubs and masks. He realized she was one of them, the doctors, who hauled him back to his padded cell. 

3 Jun 2014

Hello World.

"What would you wish for if you had one chance?"

You have been walking for so long that your feet cry in protest, they scream and try to buckle beneath you. But you decide not to fall, because that would not be you. You have always been a fighter, haven't you? You don't give up easily because fighters fight, they don't give up. 

You always knew what you wanted, but you chose the best for the greater good, because they have sustained you and now you feel obligated, your conscience fraught with excuses that you never had the means or resources to live your dream and that you must love what you are doing, because that's how it should be. Life, you say, is not a movie that you can throw away things and chase your passions or larger-than-life dreams. That would be idiotic. And immature
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You wait for the approval of that one person all your life, reading between the lines, finding meanings in their disguised words. That one person will inevitably become the center of your Universe. You will reject the idea. You are not dependent on them. You are not trying to please them in any manner. You are definitely not craving their attention. Please! You are better than that. But somewhere in the recesses of your heart, a tiny version of you, tied up in your hopes and dreams, speaks, "You still need them. You are trying this for them. You will feel guilty if you do something they do not approve of." And you do what you want, to quell this stupid voice.

Now you are aging and melancholia is the way you have adapted to. Because it seems more realistic, because you will meet the same end as everyone. Because, you thought you were something extraordinary - someone chosen - someone especial for whom destiny had massive plans. But you know now, there's nothing like a paradise behind that rustle of the wind or the cool breeze that blows from the sea. Everything is as it is. Predetermined, predestined. Isn't it?

Let's live like this. Without hope, with everything black and white. Let's live in a world where we cannot make mistakes, you would like that, wouldn't you? Everything perfectly streamlined and homogeneous, aligned into the way acceptable to everyone. Including you. Because it is better to be stuck in a rut than to speak up, or break a few hearts, because it will cause you bad karma. Your kids (if you have them) will treat you the same way. No? Your parents will curse you for being a bad egg, no? Your husband/wife will loathe you after a few years because you are not what they had imagined you to be. So let's be what everyone, each and everyone is asking you to be. 

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Because we are everyone, no? So why can't we be what we want to be? At least for ourselves. Why can't we,just for one day, today, do one thing that we really hold dear to our hearts. A small, seemingly inconsequential thing? Like buying flowers for yourself, or watching the sun go down and come up and be grateful that you and your loved ones are hail and hearty. Someday, maybe, you will know, like I know, that someday, hoping wouldn't be so bad, for it will give you an indomitable strength to stand up, without your knees crying in protest. 

"Yeah, yeah, somebody take me back to the days
Before this was a job, before I got paid,
Before it ever mattered what I had in my bank,
Yeah, back when I was tryin' to get a tip at Subway,
And back when I was rappin' for the hell of it,
But nowadays we rappin' to stay relevant.
I'm guessin' that if we can make some wishes outta' airplanes,
Then maybe yo maybe I'll go back to the days,
Before the politics that we call the rap game,
And back when ain't nobody listen to my mix tape,
And back before I tried to cover up my slang,
But this is for the hater, what's up Bobby Ray?
So can I get a wish,
To end the politics,
And get back to the music,
That started this shit?
So here I stand and then again I say,
I'm hopin' we can make some wishes outta' airplanes."

19 Apr 2014

Love beyond love.

You are like a distant dream, yet I try to hold you,
You are magnificent and free, yet I try to bind you.
You are the quiet one, the silent and the shy,
You are the stranger, making me question how and why.

I met you never, never you will know,
You are the innocent, pure and bright as snow.
I am the fire, simmering away like a ghost,
And you are the forest, I wish to burn you slowly.

You are an angel with avenging light,
I am dark and sinister, galloping away at night.
You are like the moon crushed on water,
Unbeknownst suturing away my tears and laughter.

While I wish to end what I felt forever,
You come like a breeze, like a rosy shower.
I dare to tell you the truth, of my love,
But you would deny it like a treasure trove.

Though one day, fate may turn the tide,
I wish you maybe my  bride.
And the things I could not confide,
Would no longer be needed to hide. 

13 Apr 2014

The Frangipani Tree

"...And they say, that if you are not on your guard, they creep up to you and lure you to take something from them. Once you take whatever they offer, they grab you by the neck, and feed on you, with the frangipani smell lingering around, at night.So next time Mehek, make sure you don't come late at night, from under the frangipani tree." 

Rachna finishes the story with a straight face and lets the effect sink in. 

"Oh please, they should directly finish the person off instead of dragging them along with them.What bullcrap! Why go through so much trouble? They are spirits, not gymnasts or theater artists! And I have never felt anything when I walk past that tree. It's ridiculous." Mehek scoffs. 

"Mehek, don't you see the movies, those who don't believe the existence of spirits are the first ones to be ambushed and get disappeared?" Ankita smiles cheekily, nudging Mehek  in the ribs, who glares in return, "And that is the reason I should be scared? Because you will find me in such a situation? Ha! That's highly unlikely! What am I? A ghost hunter?"

"But Mehek, you don't have to believe them, just respect their existence. These things, entities do exist. And I am sure we all have, at some point experienced their presence, so don't get so defensive." Anandita intervenes, being Rachna's sister, she knew how Rachna tended to sensationalize stories and Mehek was cold-steel logical, never a good combination.

"Ugh, come on! Please, give me a break! We are just talking right, we don't have to believe or not believe! You guys should really stop taking these things seriously!" Mehek reacted, getting pissed off for no apparent reason.
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"Okay, okay relax! It's just a story, you don't have to get so mad at us!" Rachna tries to cut through the tension. 

"You are right. I am sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you guys. It's just that I am a little stressed with work..and...so sorry!" Mehek gets up, hugs Rachna, Ankita and Anandita one by one as they all get ready to disband the party. 

Rachna follows Mehek as they descend the stairs.

Rachna: I didn't understand though, why you got so mad at me?
Mehek: It's just that you were getting too personal.
Rachna: Personal? How?
Mehek: You know nothing about Yakshis, do you?
Rachna: Hey I know! That's how I told you the story.
Mehek: But you forgot the basics - like how they look and how they really attack.
Rachna: Really? As if you know, huh?

Mehek stopped and turned to face Rachna. "You know why they choose frangipani trees?"
Rachna <shrugs>: I don't know, because they smell nice? The flowers I mean?
Mehek: Yeah and?
Rachna: I don't know. Yakshis are women, right? So, I don't know, why are you asking me?
Mehek: They choose it, because the frangipani flowers are cursed, like Yakshis, they die by the light, they breed insects within them, they are beautiful, but once you touch them, they shrivel and die. Yakshis were cursed too, to survive like half human, half dead. They always lurk around that tree.

A shudder runs through Rachna.

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Mehek bends down and picks a fallen frangipani flower and offers it to Rachna. Her dark black hair frees itself from the hairband and leaves a trail of smell of frangipani flowers around the both of them. Rachna freezes beside her in horror. Uncertain thoughts flit through her mind. How long had they known Mehek? She never hung out with them during day time, she never really cared how late she would come back, she would always be so defensive when it came to supernatural. I am over thinking this. Mehek can't possibly be! These things don't really exist, do they? Should have heard Anandita, must not have told this story. 

Mehek: Hey you all right?
Rachna: Yeah yeah, see you tomorrow then! 
Mehek: I am sorry if you felt bad or something. See you!
Rachna: Kay...

Rachna turns around to leave, as Mehek walks away too. But Rachna couldn't hear her walking away, she was too scared to stop. Reaching the doorstep of her house, Rachna hides behind the door and peeps out to see Mehek, standing under the frangipani tree, talking to a woman who descends, no slithers down, and hugs Mehek. She is a tall beautiful woman, with long lustrous hair, like Mehek and has her hair strewn with frangipani flowers. A snatch from her grandmother's tale flashes through her mind. Notice their feet carefully, they never touch the ground. 

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PS: Inspired by the story "Mixed Blood" by Ravi Shankar, which was part of the Indian Ghost Stories, edited by Ruskin Bond, published by Penguin Books.
PPS: You can read my review of the book here