Existence

If there were truly a thing called “Destiny”, then it will happen.
That’s where the conversation ended. No Decision yet.
Forward seems many time clocks away and backwards laid sweat slay.

If there were truly a thing called “Sensibility”, then it didn’t exist.
Wisdom said no. The heart pumped to change that.
Words were trembling out with hurt with fear of being accepted.


If there were truly a thing called “Patience”, then it was running out.
Like sand slipped out of the clenched mind.
Feet were finding the path short-lived, stairway to heaven seen far.

If there were truly a thing called “Truth”, then it didn’t matter.
I love him unblemished. Will stay and live long.
No long did patience and sensibility bother, its destiny that’s going to keep us together.

And she flew away

High into the opening skies,
Going wind all the way.
Birds to follow her,
Flocked together with honey light ray.

Through the white meadow,
Past the barren field,
Into distant lands of happy waters,
Cold, covered with an icy shield.

Drops of melting chill,
Pieces floating away,
Thirsty Reindeer spotting a home,
By the river line, near the transparent tray.

Santa had come with her presents,
Sneaked it under the shiny tree,
Her eyes wanted to open,
To grab those joyous bundles of bumbling glee.

Her ride was to end,
Blanket to be moved,
“Claire”, the mom touched,
And Sleep gave way to the smile that showed.

Into arms she flew,
Again a different world,
Merry Christmas, was whispered,
And her little lip twirled.

Deep blue sea, Tomorrow,
Promised her dream god,
Truce was made between will & want,
Dancing she went, towards the brown & green rod.

Two-Minute “love”

He hugged her goodbye
Left without a number
Left her wanting more
She felt deceived.

It all started right
The journey, lasted long,
He asked questions “no sense”
He made the first move.

Awkward at her first answers
She tried hard not to seem moved.
But couldn’t hold long and gave in
They plunged into dialogue.

Her first lonely journey
He appeared the good guide
Gentle and confidant,
He had it perfect.

He complemented her feet
She seemed intrigued
They discussed it all,
Right from light to leaves.

The sun from nowhere came along
Thought still lingered on
Destination came closer
Both unknowingly tuned eager.

They heard the whistle
Waited till the last moment
The moment never came.
Bags picked up, made way for the door.

She captured every sound
A drop trickled off his temples
They talked merrily still
Till all boiled to slowly kill

He dropped her half way,
He got off too,
Hands shook and waived,
The car engine roared and…

He hugged her goodbye
Left without a number
Left her wanting more
She felt deceived.

Number One

“Yes papa…I’m coming” I would say as I would run from my study table to attend to his morning chores. It either was his socks, his wallet or his belt. There was always a call at 10 mins before 8.30a.m. That’s when he left for work.

Papa is a very strict man. For him having a daughter is like keeping jewellery in the bank locker. He was very careful in bringing me up. He wouldn’t let me out alone later than 9.If it ever happened that my tuitions left late, he would tell me to call and inform. In fact it a similar reason, some time back that he got me a phone, so that every minute of my time outside could be monitored.

I couldn’t figure whether it was he not trusting me or it was the happenings outside that troubled him, or both.

My patience ran out every time I heard of a friend throwing a party and every time I heard a friend describing how great a time she had “last” night.

There were times I wept and wet my pillow, asking god why he had to give me parents, who were so possessive. It tore me even more when I was considered responsible enough, to do homely chores but not responsible enough to stay out late.

Then one day there was notice put up. It was an announcement of a trek to a hill just outside the city. It was an overnight affair and as usual all my friends got talking about it. I didn’t bother. It wasn’t worth the entire process and pain just to hear the dark, evil word again.

It was the day before the trek, that my friend got the form and told me to give it a shot. My younger sister was also persistent that I shouldn’t give up hopes.

In the evening when papa entered, there were guests waiting to see him. The night moved as slowly as she could. Eventually after a drink papa settled down. After dinner, I walked up to him and placed the trek form and a pen in his lap.

Papa picked up the paper and read it completely. He read that I would have to be away the entire night with just one instructor and a few friends, he read that we had to assemble at the station at 12.45 in the night, he read that the form was meant to say that if any mishap took place it wouldn’t be the responsibility of the instructor. As the longest two minutes of my life passed, I stood as still as a candle. The form was given to Ma to read. She read it and gave it back to papa.

Neither did he say a word nor did he look at my face, all he did was sign.

I couldn’t believe it .He had finally let go. I didn’t utter a word, neither did he. He just walked past to his bedroom.

The next day as it was time to leave, I was all packed .Ma hugged and gave me my lunch. On the way, there was this instinct that I should call papa. I did and this time he asked all the details, each and every minute detail.

After I finished, there was a sense of excitement in me, which wasn’t there before. It slowly dawned on me how important his assent was to me. I wrote him an sms, in which I told him how much his permit meant to me. To which he replied, “ Beta, always remember, whatever I am, wherever I am, I will always love you and always want the best for you, you will be my no.1”

This blew me off completely. I didn’t want to go anymore. I noticed the scenery from the cab, seemed to blur. I immediately called up papa and told him I’m coming home and that I was really sorry to hurt him.

He calmed me down and said these words to me…these words, which I treasure till date. He said, “ My no.1 will do as she pleases. Go as far as you want, but there will always be a string to bring you back to me. And the string will be my love.”

With this, I confidently went to the station, enjoyed my time of freedom, and when I came back, I gave papa back his no.1.

I live for thee

“Ting ting ting ting” rang her bell as she walked. My Grandfather himself tied the bell around her tiny neck. I still remember the pride in his face as he saved the world’s most beautiful cat from the mulberry bush. She lay entangled there, looking as helpless as ever. She was as white as an angel, always acting as if she knew what’s coming. My grandpa lovingly called her “ Amminni kutty” and took care of her as if she were his own child. I think the loneliness, which had fiercely grown in him after grandma’s death vanished as quickly as Amminni kutty grew.

As the years passed she turned, whiter and full of life. She adored grandpa. He took pains to see that fresh fish was brought specially for her and fed her himself and in return she would rub herself against his feet as if trying to say, “ The meal was delicious. Thank you for the good time”.

It was fun to see her stride with so much pride .She truly defined the “Cat walk”, this is another reason that grandpa was reminded of grandma. When she came it was a signal that grandpa was coming .I don’t know how she always managed to read his thoughts as to where he was going.

Often the two were seen playing with each other around the mulberry bush, where they had their very first date. She soon became an inevitable part of our family as she made her way through all our hearts. It was either her undying devotion towards the house or her extreme affection that did the trick.

Time passed. Age caught up with my grandpa. He gave into many diseases and got bed-ridden soon. His coughs were no more a topic to make fun of. Apart from all us, Amminni kutty seemed disturbed as well; she could sense something very wrong. She was allowed to wander near grandpa’s bed and she did so all the time, sometimes even jumped onto the bed trying to cheer him up by rubbing her head against his arm. Nothing worked.

The air in the room stood still and the moaning though not loud, were heard everywhere. Grandpa’s body was placed between two white drapes. The day lasted forever. After the cremation, a garland was put around his smiling portrait.

It was after a day we realized that Amminni kutty wasn’t eating at all. However we let her be, since she too had lost her best friend. The next day there was an absurd killing silence in the house. There was no “ting ting” of the bell. We searched high and low but there was no sign of Amminni kutty. She had run away.

It was a gloomy afternoon of the next month, that Shiva, the neighbor’s son, walked in and along with him came the sound of the bell. We rushed out of our rooms, only to see Amminni kutty’s rock-still body, in Shiva’s hands. She had fought with hunger and hunger won the battle. He said he had found her lying so, in the only place we hadn’t searched for, the mulberry bush.

She had waited for grandpa there, hoping that he would come and play with her. He did. She had left all of us and her favorite fish bowl, just to be with him. She missed him too much. She had served him till his last and still hadn’t had enough of him.

I know deep inside that as I relate this story, the two of them are still playing with each other around the mulberry bush.

Highway

I wish I could build my highway to heaven,
No money, no charge, just deeds to get even,
Deeds above thousands, earned night and day,
Until the moment when you look up and say “you may”.

There’d be a lit up sky of rainbows and stars all the way,
All shiny and sparkling like yellow hay.
No scar-soul of a man would be allowed,
If one ever tried, he’d drown right through the cloud.

I wish this highway is made of sweetness and love so true,
Every passenger would fly through, around the sky blue.
Hats and ribbons would be tossed around,
Merriness and eagerness would fill the crowd.

The world forward would be full of surprises superb,
Bursting would be joy, too hard to curb.
By the end of the journey, there’d be new relatives and mates,
Together entering the ever beautiful, pearly gates….

Search

The only parting gift I get is a word, which happens to be so strong,
Inspite of all the clouds and stars which passed us by,
All u leave me with, is a word called goodbye.

I search long and low,
wide and slow,
Just to find the face with that glow,
The place to find him is all I wanna know.

For once I know where he is,
Run will I, to the shell of warmth in his arms ,
Then dare the tear waiting in my eye,roll down,
So what every time I look at the love bites,
thoughts of him keep going on.

Call it what you want,
I call it a craving,
A craving which may last a life long,
It doesn't matter a bit,
All I need is a clue,
as to where in the world are you.

Death of a Salesman

A bag of books and 19yrs of life is what he came with. He had truth nailed to his tongue and determination fixed in his eyes. But most importantly his friend “vision” accompanied him, wherever he went. Mark Pereira didn’t really care like you and me, whether he had fine clothing or expensive watches. All he ever wanted to do is contribute.
His acquaintance with his destiny began when Father Brian introduced him to a couple of missionaries who had ideas of setting up a school for primary education. It wasn’t after very long that Mr. Pereira realized that, there were many more students from the same village who didn’t need just education, they needed more than that. It was after much convincing that he was allowed to extend his school to an orphanage for the less privileged children. This wasn’t easy, funds were required, facilities had to be arranged, legal permission had to be organized.
Mr. Pereira didn’t seem mind the hard work. He was happy when his children were. That was all that mattered. Though he wanted to help them all, he couldn’t due to lack space. He was constantly making an effort to place these children, in good foster homes. Admissions happened twice as fast as placements. A few complaints, a thousand joyous moments.
It was around this time when one morning, baby Tina was found at doorstep, loudly wailing. She was the most beautiful girl, Mr. Pereira had ever seen. Her cheeks were pink and she had the smallest curled up fingers. There were many parents who selected her, but he rejected all their applications saying that none of them were special enough.
Tina grew beautifully. She was sweet and she loved her “Peru uncle”. She made paper planes, mud cakes, leaf bouquets just for him. She played the role of a daughter he never had. He at times would stop and wonder whether he was ever going to give her up. But he had always known, he had to.
It was a sad Tuesday, when one of the trustees himself found a foster home for Tina. Mr. Pereira tried hard to change the trustees mind, but couldn’t manage to. He felt depressed and lonely. He got into a feeling that had never ever crossed his mind before. He couldn’t bear that Tina would be bought from him. He thought of her as his doll, who he had clothed, washed and take care of. He had brushed her hair and had fed her with his own hands. She was his creation. His product. And he was letting her go. In his mind, a Salesman, that’s what, he was.
She left in the dress he had gifted her on her birthday. She looked real special in pink. He remembered the time she was told that she had to leave. She had cried just the way she had in the morning he had found her. He smiled at the irony. Now, she was waiving from the glass window of the moving car. The deal was made, signed and closed.
He sulked for two nights together; no sleep seemed to come close anymore. He wondered whether little Tina was happy, whether she had said her prayers, whether she was being tucked into bed just as he used to and most of all whether she missed him at all.
He had stopped admitting students. He tried hard to find homes for the ones still in the home. He didn’t succeed. For it wasn’t easy to conduct the “trade”, without the demand. Nothing had particularly changed yet everything had. He was dead inside.
It was the 5th day after Tina had left. Mr. Pereira was seated in his office staring into his papers, when he heard a familiar cry. Tina was back. His heart leaped. At the door, Tina stood with her new parents. He noticed that she broke from the lady’s grip and ran right into his arms. The lady’s voice tore his thoughts. She said,” Tina insisted that, we should meet you. She often talks of you.” Tina continued, “ I love my new home, my new clothes and my parents are the best in the world”.
That’s when it struck him. That very statement. She loved “Her Parents”. He wasn’t the parent as he had always secretly hoped, he’d be. She was never meant to stay. She had her own world now , a world without Uncle Peru. He understood that he did, what he did since it was his duty. His role in her life was to make sure that she fell into secure hands. And he performed his duty well.
He bid farewell to Tina, since that was the reason she was truly there for. A new ray emerged, Mr. Pereira wanted to be a changed man.
The next morning, the first thing he did was remove the no admission sign. He waited for more Tina’s to arrive realized that he was no salesman and he never ever would be one again. That’s where the salesman died.

Breeze

I am seeing the breeze
As it hits me after passing through certain streets,
And when I get distracted and try to move away
It dances and calls me back as an amusing prey.

Its presence brings back old memories,
The ones, which had us running around trees,
Now that I stare past the crease,
all I am left with is the cold breeze.

Pity it is, that you are of the past
for the aroma you carried seemed to last.
My hunger to see you never saw death,
Surprised I am that the breeze had carved it.

The feelings were deep, the pillows soft,
They are now all waiting, watching from the top,
They know for sure we are still together,
physically or not is not a bother.

I m not letting you go now or for never,
I always thought there would be a forever.
I wish things hadn't been covered in the cloth of sorrow
my eyes carried a pearl drop, looking for tomorrow

Hopelessly, I see you lying motionless,
Your simple face and all its gentleness.
I tried stopping them from taking you away,
For within me I knew in my heart,
That you wouldn't be able to stay,

They dint listen, and broke all my bangles,
Took away my bindi and left me in shambles.
Let not anyone go through all the distress,
I shuddered every time someone dawned my dress.

Today again the breeze has made a comeback,
Blowing all the pictures and memories in her sack,
I wonder whether the pain will ever cease
All I am left with is, the cold breeze.

Next step

Go away twilight,
For her dream, cannot end.
The horseman has not come yet,
Nor did the flowers descend.

She stood by her window,
The coal, intact.
Drapes pink honored her moves,
All ready to make him react.

Her friend, the sparrow,
Sang her a song.
She too sensed the anxiety,
She too wanted to belong.

Lily from the garden,
Passed her a scent.
Gave her a tinge of aroma,
Shook the feeling present.

Mirrors don’t lie,
But, one did, today.
Reflections marked pleasure,
But outside laid dismay.

Decor curtains, Marigolds displayed,
Signs set her astray.
Played with her future,
None answered, destiny may.

Moonlight defeated the yellow,
The little ones scrammed home.
New day awaited from scratch,
Would he come tomorrow, perhaps

I am..

I am a pebble in the mud,
A drop in the wide ocean,
A particle in the flowing wind,
Who has not an iota of a notion.

I’m often lost in pompous thoughts,
Of chateaus, champagnes and a whole lots,
Distant dreams that still haven’t found a door,
A step closer, and a fall a cent more.

Little choice do I have not to realize them,
For I realize, I share them with my world,
The world, who I share my treasures with,
Treasures or not, experiences they are.

Every time the mirror shows,
I stand on my toes,
Hoping I’ll see a bigger and better image,
If only that could happen….

Lilliput I maybe,
This does not stop me,
I m going to make it, I know
I’ll soon stand tall and show.

I am a pebble in the mud,
A drop in the wide ocean,
A particle in the flowing wind,
Who has not an iota of a notion.