The Ultimate Choice

It follows me, the clink
In my every word
With my every step
I drag my feet
Bearing its constant weight
It smells of rust
May be its metal
Or the reek of my wounded dreams
But metal can it be
For corrosion doesn’t weaken it
Instead, it eats me off
Still, I trudge my path
With a masquerading smile
Hoping for a savior, an elixir


The aroma of Freedom
So pure, so divine
It entices me
It must taste of honey,
Of enlivening raindrops,
Might feel like a soothing breeze
Of silky moonlit night
It teases me in livid dreams
Pushes me to break my shackles
And fly to distant horizon
Which promises me my heaven



Then I shudder with fear
What if it’s a mirage?
Can these chains be
Binding me against
An insidious storm?
What if the horizon
Lays a devil’s trap?
A black hole it might be
Never giving me back
To this world I dwell in
But then my soul
Tells me to decide
Either live dying or die living
For once I close my eyes
Trusting my instincts this time
I make my ultimate choice
And finally… open my eyes

Tobermary

(This is my first attempt with fiction. So, I just wanted to share this short story. My mentor in creative writing asked me to write on a cat called 'Tobermary' which recently acquired the skill of speaking English. Here's what I came up with.) 

‘Jeeves please get the lady’s coat, would you?’ I asked my butler, nervously fidgeting with my gold ring. All the ladies of my club had come at my invitation to witness the extraordinary talent of Tobermary, my darling cat. After months of training, she had finally learnt to talk. My joy knew no bounds when I first heard her say a proper sentence in that rhythmic tone. Since then, Tobermary had been a wonderful company in my otherwise lonely life. Now I had someone to talk with, anytime I wanted.

‘What if she doesn’t speak in front of the guests?’ This question was making me nervous. Now that all the guests had come, it would be so embarrassing if Tobermary ditched at a time like this.

‘Mrs. Green’, called out Mrs. Jones, ‘Why don’t you call Tobermary now? We all are eager to see her talent’
‘Sure Mrs. Jones. I’ll be right back’
I went to my room to bring the cat. She was a fat tabby and her orange fur gave her a good camouflage in that orange bed. I had to look carefully to see if she was on it. She was sitting right there and licking her paws.
‘Come here Tobey… here Tobey. It’s show time.’ She jumped out of the bed and came dancing into my lap.
‘Don’t get nervous in front of the guests. They will praise you if you speak well.’ She purred and snuggled into my arms.
As we entered the hall, we were given a round of applause. Tobermary rose her head up to look at all the guests. Jeeves brought a cushion and kept it in the centre of the hall. I took Tobermary to that cushion and made her sit on it. She wrapped her tail around her feet. She sat with the perfect blend of guard and poise, a trait innate in felines.
‘Greet the guests Tobey’ I cooed.
Tobermary looked at everyone and said:

‘All the pretty women
Gracing this hall
Here’s Tobermary
Greeting you all’


The hall echoed a loud ovation. ‘Bravo!’, ‘Once more’, ‘Amazing’ resounded all over. I was so happy at Tobermary’s recital, and even glad that everyone liked it.
As the applause subsided, I rose up from my chair. ‘Thank you all for your encouragement. You are welcome to come forward and talk to Tobermary’
‘Tobermary’ Mrs. Evans spoke, ‘Did you like this party? All of us have specially come to see you’

‘I knew you would come
As my lady had said
That many of you
Have nothing to do instead’

I was taken aback. And so were Mrs. Evans and the rest of the ladies. All the eyes turned towards me. ‘Don’t look at me like that my friends. I didn’t say that to her’, I tried to convince.
Mrs. Evans raised an eyebrow, turned back towards Tobermary and asked, ‘What else do you know about us dear Tobey?’

‘I know not all
But some I do
It’s only what my lady
Says about you
She finds Mary’s nose
Ugly and big
And oh my sweet Penny
Is that really a wig?
She says that Martha
Is too old for that dress
And do you know her Husband
Is going out with Tess?’

I was stifled, too embarrassed to look anywhere. I couldn’t gather enough courage to face the scores of glaring eyes. Why did I have to flaunt Tobey’s talent? Vexed to the core, I looked at Tobermary and suddenly someone screamed.


‘Oh God! Where is my bracelet?’ Mrs. Taylor started searching here and there for her jewelry. ‘It was made of precious stone, a gift from my husband. I can’t lose it like that’
Tobermary jumped off her cushion, went towards Mrs. Taylor and said:

‘You lost your bracelet
To a marvelous sleight
The genius is no one
But the butler to your right’

‘Jeeves!’ I screamed. Jeeves stole Ruth Taylor’s bracelet! Was this the worst that could happen tonight or was there more?
Tobermary slewed past me and went to Mrs. Smith. ‘Now how do you know about my husband? You sly cat’, said Mrs. Smith, annoyed.


‘I saw your man
With Tess last week
You weren’t at home
When I came to sneak
They hugged and kissed
And seemed quite merry
While I fed myself
With your yellow canary’


That was it. Tobermary had crossed all limits. I stomped towards her and told her in a strict tone. ‘Someone is not getting her food tonight Tobermary’
She danced her way to the stairs and said:

‘That poor fellow
Might feel very bad
For it was delicious
The food I had
Just to make sure that
The guests are served well
The toured the dinner table
For a quick lick and tell
The mousse, the pudding

The Stew and the fish

I smelled each platter

I licked each dish

Now my tummy is full

And so I retreat
To rest of you all
Bon Appétit’


With this she hopped her way upstairs, leaving me at the mercy of a bunch of peeved ladies.

Walking with the river

Quietly as I walk
A gush of emotions rushes into me
For the people who are gone
And moments that are history
A million words to share
And a million pictures to show
But I don’t feel like talking
So I am letting them flow
And I am walking with the river
Barefoot on her shore.
Sky renders to purple
As the sun takes back the orange
Sheepish moon appears
And the stars rearrange
I stand amidst this beauty
Missing my usual company
When the river touches my feet gently
And shares her epiphany
She tells me to move on
And frame a new memory
As life still goes on
Whatever happens, is meant to be
So I am locking the past
Safely in my heart to store
And I am walking with the river
Barefoot on her shore

Bliss Pouring from Sky

Rains are rare in Delhi. But back in my school days, the global environment wasn’t this screwed up, so Delhi enjoyed the benison of rains from July to September. Those were such delightful days. Rain was not only a breather for the green regime of the city, which had suffered the scorching summers for last four months, but also for us students as we didn’t have to forge a sick note to bunk the morning assembly anymore. The heavier it rained, the greater were the chances of getting more substitution periods at school. Second best time after Karva-Chauth, which is another time in Delhi when maximum teachers used to be on leave.

Even if the teachers turned up, I could never keep my eyes on the book or the blackboard during the class. I used keep looking outside the window, finding some dark colored building to see the rain drops in contrast. The wet trees, the smell of wet soil, the chilling winds… it felt like heaven. And if it had stopped raining, I would still keep my gaze outside. Rain drops dripping from the leaves, a little birdie flinching as that drop fell on its neck, wet puppies playing on the street, wagging their tiny tails as frantically as possible. Fascinating. And if it were still raining when the last period was 10 minutes from getting over, I would pray hard for the rain to go on for some more time so that I can play in it on my way back home. It was so much fun. I and my friends would just rush out of our class, fling our bags into the bus and come out in the playground to play till the buses start departing. Then again when I got down on my stop and mom brought an umbrella when she came to pick me up, I would cringe away from it. I hated any kind of barrier that would come between me and the rain. As kids, no one cared about their uniform getting wet, the shoes getting spoiled. In fact, it so happened once that I couldn’t find a paper to make a boat, so I took off my shoe to sail it in the small ponds that appeared after rain. I could never understand what joy I got out of it, but it was really fun back then. I can’t forget those images even today. They are like indelible snapshots stored in mind.


All of us have become so boring after growing up. And most of this is attributed to the so-called professional attitude we are asked to exhibit, proper shoes, proper clothes and all. As soon as it rains, people run to take a shade somewhere. And if they can’t find a shade, they won’t enjoy the drops of respite falling on them. Instead they would crib as its going to spoil their footwear. There are no exceptions here. I love to get drenched in the rain, but when I was here in office campus, all could think was, ‘how to save my shoes?’ Next time, I am going to ditch my shoes and go out. People say it’s childish to behave like this, and that we are grown up and that too professionals. So we are expected to behave maturely. But I have a question. Are we working to live or living to work? If we a working to live, then I don’t think we need to don the ‘professional’ cap all the time. Just ditch it for a few minutes and go out to refresh yourselves. In fact, it would be totally crazy and fun to organize a rain dance party in the office one day (Lol). Well, the professional in me denies this idea though.


Before you conclude on my insanity, I would like to remind you that I am from Delhi, the city where rains are as rare are the sparrows. So, it’s natural for a rain lover like me to go crazy in an awesome weather like this. And I totally realize that monsoon has a long spell in Pune and that I will soon be drained out of this ‘m-lovin-it’ feeling. But till that time comes, let this poor rain deprived creature enjoy the season. Meanwhile, you enjoy recalling your childhood rainy season memories and don’t curse me for making you nostalgic about that. Cheers!

Amid the Greens

Surrounded by green colossal hills, I sat on a rock of the Panorama Point in Matheran. As far as my senses allowed, all I could see was hills, valleys and fields, blithe fully wearing an endless green scarf, patterned with the most novel designs that might inspire the greatest painters and writers. All I could hear was tranquillising silence, a sound unparalleled, surpassing any earthly musical note. All I could smell was the tantalizing aroma of the blending earth, water and air, the fragrance of wet soil. All I could feel was a soothing gust, caressing my skin gently. If only I had wings to fly along with it, through the valley. The blue sky was adorned with patches of white and grey clouds, some of them swaying away with the wind, across the conclave of the gigantic hills, while the other resting on one of the green slopes, like tired travellers. Yonder was another cluster of clouds, pouring rain on a comparatively less formidable terrain. Now that… was a rare sight. Watching the pouring clouds from a higher altitude felt like… well I have no words for this. I am a rain-lover, but I have always been at the receiving end of the rain. This sight made me fall in love with it all over again.


The idyllic scenery entranced me. Even though I was out in open, it gave me privacy like I had never had before. I had ‘my moment’, a moment when I connected with the nature; a moment that rendered all other thoughts away but one that inadvertently appeared in my mind, ‘Ahambrahma Asmi’. In that moment, I was so connected with the surrounding life that it seemed like same energy flowed through all of us, me, the trees, the hills, the streams, the wind, and the clouds… all of us. It seemed as if everything had come to life and that they were all nothing but me. I heard my heartbeat reverberating in the whole valley. For a short while, I felt the presence of the Divine. It was truly a spiritually moment. I figured out why the saints of India escaped to the mountains for meditation. I wanted to spare a few minutes to meditate there, but the time constraints of our trip didn’t allow me to do that. We were a group of eight friends there, but to my surprise, the members of an otherwise chatty group disintegrated to find their own rock to sit in silence for some time. I am sure they found their moment too.


For all of us, who live in the chaotic conurbations, time passes by very fast and every moment leaves a noisy scar on our life; noise, of cell phone ringtones, keyboard taping, doorbells, relentless arguments, meetings, celebrations, traffic jams, television, iPods etc. And when we need some privacy, we go inside a four walled shell, which suffocates our inner self further. It might be of some help but I can bet it’s not as curative as an escape to the nature, which recharges our senses and gives us an ambience to introspect, thus renovates us. One such trip a month can prove to be therapeutic like nothing else.


How I wish I had means to retreat to this place anytime I wanted. But to earn those ‘means’, I realized that I will have to go back to my city-jungle and slog. So here I am, back on my office chair, sulking about the confined cubicle, laden with nostalgia of one of my best trips and trying to capture that amazing experience into this article, so that whenever I’d read it, I will be reminded of that awe-inspiring moment and the company of the wonderful gang which made this trip worthwhile.