The Abyss

 I fetched water from deep oceans blue,

All my strength’s worth and more

Poured into the Well. Oh! Silly me.

The precious jewels I dug in caves dark as night

I threw them all in, yellow ones first

Then in went the reds.

I picked the white,

Each cut reflecting brilliance on my face,

In it went. It fell and fell.

It only fell.

Not an echo of a wall struck.

Not even the sound of a splash.

Only hollowness, it traversed.

In went the sleepless nights

Tears cried on the lonely pillow.

Angry words died in the bottomless pit too.

Hopes of It overflowing thrown in bales

Wreathed in the songstress’ odes.

The Pit never fills.

Withered flowers, ashes of poems burnt,

The warm breath on shivering nights,

Remembrances of the fondest kind.

Take them, please. Take all of them.

As an abyss must. And barter, if you want.

Pay not in kind, if you wish not.

Do so in dreams I dreamt,

And in seconds and sighs and drops of tears.

The Bus Diaries I

When, as a hungry-for-adventure undergraduate student, I came to Delhi, one of the first things which I found praiseworthy of the city was its efficient and well connected bus service run by the Delhi Transport Corporation( DTC).One can go to almost every nook and corner of the state by bus, which I found pretty amazing.

This is one of (hopefully) many posts which will be coming up on my experiences as a commuter on the buses and roads of Delhi, to and from my lab. I thought I suffer enough already and every day, so why not use the torture as a food for thought. Yes. That's constructive. I always used to enjoy my bus ride before I lost it all in the humdrum of everyday grind and of late, the one and half hour I spend to and fro apiece, was becoming a little taxing. It prompted me to think about applying for a hostel room in the University Hostel for women, which I didn't want to. I had almost lost my sense of humour. So, this is an attempt at rejuvinating my spirits. Here, I'll recount funny and not-so-funny anecdotes which I become involved in or become a spectator to, during my daily bus rides.

Let me start with some incidents which happened earlier as today's travel was so mundane. Once, I was returning to my hostel in North Delhi from a lab. in Okhla in the late afternoon in the summer of 2008. I had got a summer fellowship from the Indian Academy of Science and was doing my summer internship in that lab. That meant it was summer vacation and I was not home.

On my way back, this guy came to where I was sitting.He asked me if he could sit there if I didn't mind. I thought "Sit wherever you like" but said, "Oh yes". He gave a congenial smile, which I returned. He told me he had just come to Delhi and joined an office that day itself. I found him bothersome at first, because in Delhi talking to strangers is not always a good experience. He said he was from Rajasthan. I don't remember his name. He asked me what I did. I said I was doing my masters, to which he said I looked "like a baby". This was a really amusing way of putting what had become a common comment on my looks.

We travelled together for a very short duration but he did leave an impression on my impressionable mind. He said, "We met by chance today and we will meet again if destined, it would be nice if our paths crossed again. Aise hi toh log milte hain (that's exactly how people meet)." I've not met him again. Perhaps, he came for a fleeting moment carrying a message to remind me of the small world we live in with the multitude of people, carrying with themselves stories to pass on to someone who'ld listen and hopefully understand. Its interesting how it added to a feeling I had grown up with all along, that I'm a traveller at heart, a wanderer. And it seemed the journey had just started.

Happy Valentine's Day!

                   

I was sitting at one end of the bench in front of the stereo deck, he on the other end. A balmy evening in early spring. As heavens would have conspired for it, the tube light was not working. Dimly lit by only a lamp in one corner of the room. "Dil hai chhota sa" from the movie Roja, playing in the background. It was just perfect. I could see his face from the side. He was really enjoying the music and perhaps, my company too. My heart skipped a beat. He was my first crush.


He said, "..so you got first in class in the finals, huh?" I blushed and said, "Hmm". He seemed really impressed. I had just got the results of my 3rd standard exams and he had already dropped a year after his 12th board exams. He, of the ruffled hair, black leather jacket and vrooming Rajdoot bike, was so out of my reach. It was as if my heart's strings were plucked on by the roaring of the 350cc engine, which announced his arrrival every evening. Sigh! 

It was pure adoration, unadulterated. I so want to call it love, but with no Valentine's day fuss or expectations of any sort. Simple, innocent love. A very short story which got lost in the deluge of growing up, it was just a beginning of an ever continuing romance with life and men. 


Here's to all my crushes, ex'es, dear friends and loved ones, 
Happy Everyday. Stay loved.