From a groom's diary

The wait finally ends,
as she sets upon,
our biggest journey,
flanked by her kin,
counting her steps,
measuring each one.
Veiled face,bright as sun
peeping from clouds,
kohled eyes, stare at
entwined flowery floor.
My heart resonates
with her every gait,
I pinch myself 'n check
if I'm alive and awake.


I try reading her mind,
perhaps it's time I start
learning this art, and
I fail again and again.
I'm forced a smile, by
A sudden rush of
memories - our first
meeting on terrace,
shying and vying,
to break the ice, and
utter loss'f words.
And minutes later
her bubbly chuckle,
at my anecdotes.

On stage now, our
hearts beat in tandem,
the only thing I can hear.
The moment is so unlike
whatever I'd imagined.
She looks confused,
a little annoyed, emaciated,
but happy and excited !
"You'll be fine", I whisper,
careful from prying eyes.
A coy glance follows,
reserved just for me,
and I succumb,
"Don't look at them,
they might die !"


At a time when marriages are in the air, I thought of trying to capture a groom's state of mind. The bride's perspective is captured nicely at  
http://poojaroutray.blogspot.com/2010/08/he-was-her-man.html

Ode to Marina

The endless raging sea,
reminds me, of infinity.
Standing on the shore,
the phase boundary,
I think of the map-work
blue pencil crayons,
and laugh at myself,
at how I could fill
in just a few seconds,
vastness of the ocean.
Next moment I'm scared,
at my innocent insolence,
and hope the sea
doesn't punish me.
Just like it did, 

ravaged their lives
without a felony.

Marina reminds me
of her beautiful hair,
freely flowing in air,
the humming breeze,
retains her scent,
unlike the sand, where
footprints can't stand.
We chased the waves,
only to be chased back,
and find the sand shifting
beneath our feet,
just like time.
We could stand
by holding hands,
and it lasts only
till waves recede.

Dogs and underdogs

The dog at the cafeteria
has now become intelligent,
just like the Japanese crow
and why not ? It's living among 
the country's best minds !
He stands on it's hind legs
and grabs the table leftovers
with his canted jaws.

He's a stray dog, designed
to live on rotting grub.
No one asks if he can
survive food shortages,
weather Madras rains.
No one needs to.

There are other 'dogs'
who were born human.
Even if they're intelligent,
they still live on leftovers.
While they recline with
their bellies tired of hunger,
the stray dogs urinate,
vent their anger at this
cut-throat competition.

Yes, they were born
to a human mother who
perhaps left them in a bush,
and died of starvation.
No one asks if they can
survive food shortages,
weather Madras rains.
No one needs to ?

 (Thanks to Trinath for helping me find a suitable title)

Nothing is absolute

Absolutely nothing
that I can think of,
is absolute, be it
love or hatred
pleasure or pain
good or bad
loss or gain.
Not even matter
or its laws !
(forget abstraction)
Stupefying it is,
To know that
 I'm composed of
quarks and leptons,
non-local particles
rife with uncertainty.
They call the
universe unknown
as dark matter,
but is the known,
really known ?
Of course, my
thoughts posses
a limitation.
Conceive it, I may
one fine day, but
the fact that my
very existence
from head to toe,
is an approximation
will annul
the inception !

The test of time

It's ages, since we saw each other
Can't recall, when we talked last.
But, every part of you is still vivid,
And it feels as if 'twas yesterday.

At one time you were near,
But oblivious to my presence.
I was timid, wordless, immature
I felt it, but, was utterly unsure.

Now I know and understand
What it was, and it still is,
And will be left behind,
As it has stood, the test 'f time.

But, I'm erased from your mind.
As you have, an other priority
Other people, other proclivity
And hope, is just a luxury.

But still, I want you to know,
you're the image of my soul,
that 'us', was meant to be
whatever be, the destiny!

Yes, I can wait, till eternity!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=efK9sQuCVaA&feature=fvw

I cannot remember my mother

I cannot remember my mother,

only sometime in the midst of my play

a tune seems to hover over my playthings,

the tune of some song that she used to

hum while rocking my cradle.

I cannot remember my mother

but when in the early autumn morning

the smell of the shiuli flowers floats in the air,

the scent of the morning service in the

temple comes to me as the scent of my mother.

I cannot remember my mother

only when from bedroom window

I send my eyes into the blue of the distant sky,

I feel that the stillness of my mother's gaze on my face

has spread all over the sky.

  --- Rabindranath Tagore

Fake expressions, Happiness disguised.

Synthetic paid smiles,
that make you pay-
The beautiful receptionist,
charming air-hostess,
waitress with hot soup!
Forgot ever-blithe ads?
The perfect couple,
Doting mothers-chubby children.
Pretenses of a perfect world,
Ruses for profit, with
Fake expressions,
Happiness disguised.

Familiar people,
daily 'Hi's' and 'Bye's';
Feigned contentment,
Strained cheeks,
Abnormal kinks
in mundane life,
amid raging storms,
turbulent mind.
Lessons of courtesy from
moral science classes ?
Yes, but, still
Fake expressions,
Happiness disguised.

Few Words on the Soul

We have a soul at times.
No one’s got it non-stop,
for keeps.

Day after day,
year after year
may pass without it.

Sometimes
it will settle for awhile
only in childhood’s fears and raptures.
Sometimes only in astonishment
that we are old.

It rarely lends a hand
in uphill tasks,
like moving furniture,
or lifting luggage,
or going miles in shoes that pinch.

It usually steps out
whenever meat needs chopping
or forms have to be filled.

For every thousand conversations
it participates in one,
if even that,
since it prefers silence.

Just when our body goes from ache to pain,
it slips off-duty.

It’s picky:
it doesn’t like seeing us in crowds,
our hustling for a dubious advantage
and creaky machinations make it sick.

Joy and sorrow
aren’t two different feelings for it.
It attends us
only when the two are joined.

We can count on it
when we’re sure of nothing
and curious about everything.

Among the material objects
it favors clocks with pendulums
and mirrors, which keep on working
even when no one is looking.

It won’t say where it comes from
or when it’s taking off again,
though it’s clearly expecting such questions.

We need it
but apparently
it needs us
for some reason too.

-- Wislawa Szymborska
(translated from Polish by Stanislaw Baranczak and Clare Cavanagh)

What It Was Like for Ghosts

It was explained to them
this would be joy.
They were misinformed.
Haunting proved tedious
as watching grass grow
in the dead of winter
interspersed with ugly moments of
unwittingly terrifying the ones they love.
In other words, it was life
minus the urge to declare,
“I wish I was dead.”

-- John Grey

Order in Chaos

She sways in felicity,
rummaging and pillaging
through my mind;
her incisive words,
resound a thousand
times, before they're
enshrined deep inside.

My thoughts snatched,
soul enraptured,
I flounder about,
scathed, stunned,
looking for order
in utter chaos.

(The first line is inspired by Lord Bryon's poem 'She walks in beauty' but the theme is completely different.)

She walks in beauty

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling place.

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!

-- Lord Byron

Parting

My life closed twice before its close;
It yet remains to see
If Immortality unveil
A third event to me

So huge, so hopeless to conceive,
As these that twice befell.
Parting is all we know of heaven,
And all we need of hell.

-- Emily Dickinson

Too Alone

I’m too alone in the world, yet not alone enough
to make each hour holy
I’m too small in the world, yet not small enough
to be simply in your presence, like a thing—
just as it is.

I want to know my own will
and to move with it.
And I want, in the hushed moments
when the nameless draws near,
to be among the wise ones—
or alone.

I want to unfold.
Let no place in me hold itself closed,
for where I am closed, I am false.
I want to stay clear in your sight.

I would describe myself like a landscape I’ve studied
at length, in detail;
like a word I’m coming to understand;
like a pitcher I pour from at mealtimes;

like my mother’s face;
like a ship that carried me
when the waters raged.

- Rainer Maria Rilke
From 'Book of Hours' translated from German by Anita Barrow & Joanna Macy

Give me your hand.

God speaks to each of us as he makes us,
then walks with us silently out of the night.

These are the words we dimly hear:

You, sent out beyond your recall,
go to the limits of your longing.
Embody me.

Flare up like flame
and make big shadows I can move in.

Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror.
Just keep going. No feeling is final.
Don't let yourself lose me.

Nearby is the country they call life.
You will know it by its seriousness.

Give me your hand.

-- Rainer Maria Rilke
(translated from German by Joanna Macy and Anita Barrow)

एक बरस बीत गया

झुलसाता जेठ मास
शरद चाँदनी उदास
सिसकी भरते सावन का
अंतर्घट रीत गया
एक बरस बीत गया

सींकचों में सिमटा जग
किंतु विकल प्राण विहग
धरती से अंबर तक
गूँज मुक्ति गीत गया
एक बरस बीत गया

पथ निहारते नयन
गिनते दिन पल छिन
लौट कभी आएगा
मन का जो मीत गया
एक बरस बीत गया

-- अटल बिहारी वाजपेयी

Forlorn

Of what use,
is a stunted plant
in a forest known for
its blooming mangroves ?
All plants I can think of,
graduated into trees,
who shall bear fruits,
shower their flowers,
by whose names the forest
shall ever be remembered.

They gave me another chance
to prove my worth,
A solace ? Or, apathy
guised as sympathy ?
They should've rather
chopped me off, and
planted a better seed.
But who knows, the curse
could have passed on ?

Let me crush myself,
peacefully, and
let their image
remain untarnished,
let the soil save its
little nourishment.
To decay once for all,
is better than rotting
bit by bit everyday.


(The backdrop is the suicide committed by one student a few months back)

Remorsified

There I was, enjoying my favorite flavored milk and snacks in my favorite cafe when I heard the cars screech to a halt. A beggar, apparently blind, who was crossing the busy Velachery main road had just got another chance to live. "It must have been his 'n'th chance", I gibed. I was busy devouring, till I noticed him entering the cafe, as if he had heard me. Tattered, filthy clothes, cloth bag around his shoulder, his eyes blinking, he stood still. "May be he is hungry, and is going to ask for something to eat", I thought. I was wrong. He gauged the location of cash counter using his 'sixth sense' and went towards it. "So he wants money, all beggars are the same.", my mind was gushing thoughts. He went to the cash counter, not far from me and said something in Tamil. He then, took out a packet of incense sticks (agarbatti) and showed it to the counter in-charge. He pointed it towards the coffee machine, which proved he was actually blind. Out of what he said, I could make out the words "Nalla (good) quality batti, Sir", which he repeated many times, eyes still flickering. He had proved me wrong - on three accounts. He was not a beggar and he didn't ask for food or money.

I watched him, ashamed, puff still in my mouth, as if it was waiting for direction to be gulped. I thought that the shop keeper might shoo him away saying 'this is not a departmental store'. But he was more compassionate than I thought. He took a packet of 'batti', and gave him a 20 rupee note. The blind salesman took it graciously, and kept in his cloth bag. He said "Nandri(thankyou) Sir", and walked his way out. There was no way he could check whether he was paid the right amount, but I was sure he was. People in this part of the country have integrity. And I was left there, gulping down grub worth Rs 50. I was amazed to see his dedication to earn his living, jeopardizing his life. He could come under the wheels anytime. The option to beg was always open for him. Or he could go to some temple and live on free food. But here he was, earning his bread. I couldn't judge if the amount he earned by selling 'battis' was enough to feed him for the day, let alone his dependents, if any.

There was a lump in my throat which had blocked the way to my alimentary canal. And I really regretted what I'd previously thought of him. "I need to buy some incense sticks, too", I mumbled. I finished, paid and left. I looked for him, on the road outside the cafe. He wasn't visible anywhere. Perhaps he had gone into another shop. I frantically peeped inside all shops nearby, to which he might have gone tottering, in such a short time. He was nowhere.

The remorse was to linger and melt me from within.

While you read this, he wanders on the roadside, in the cafes, eyes flickering as if trying in vain to see the world outside. If I see him again, I'll plead him to stop blinking, is it worth working so hard to see such a crooked world ?

Perpetually silent

Hey di,
your perpetual silence,
I can't tolerate
any more.

Can I forget ?
How much I enjoyed
teasing you,
pulling your hair,
and galloping away.
But you never
complained !

Have you forgot ?
Your experiments..
trying out on me,
kohl n mascara,
while I was asleep,
your ceaseless laugh !

Have you forgot ?
us playing in rain,
slithering in mud,
and getting scolded,
throwing blame
on each other.

Can we forget?
painting brown hillocks,
sun in their cleavage,
brook at their nadir,
and a coconut tree
on the strand
beside a shack.

You can't forget
the day you told me
about your crush,
and made me swear
to not tell 'nyone.
I broke his nose,
as he never dared !

I can't forget,
how beautiful you
looked as a bride,
but seeing you off
was heart wrenching,
n drizzles ensued.

Now I can only long
you were here
when I have,
so much to share,
so much to say,
so much to bear!

I wish you were
more than just
my reveries !
If only, you could
breathe your way
into my world !

भारत महिमा

हिमालय के आँगन में उसे, प्रथम किरणों का दे उपहार ।

उषा ने हँस अभिनंदन किया, और पहनाया हीरक-हार ।।

जगे हम, लगे जगाने विश्व, लोक में फैला फिर आलोक ।

व्योम-तुम पुँज हुआ तब नाश, अखिल संसृति हो उठी अशोक ।।

विमल वाणी ने वीणा ली, कमल कोमल कर में सप्रीत ।

सप्तस्वर सप्तसिंधु में उठे, छिड़ा तब मधुर साम-संगीत ।।

बचाकर बीच रूप से सृष्टि, नाव पर झेल प्रलय का शीत ।

अरुण-केतन लेकर निज हाथ, वरुण-पथ में हम बढ़े अभीत ।।

सुना है वह दधीचि का त्याग, हमारी जातीयता का विकास ।

पुरंदर ने पवि से है लिखा, अस्थि-युग का मेरा इतिहास ।।

सिंधु-सा विस्तृत और अथाह, एक निर्वासित का उत्साह ।

दे रही अभी दिखाई भग्न, मग्न रत्नाकर में वह राह ।।


धर्म का ले लेकर जो नाम, हुआ करती बलि कर दी बंद ।

हमीं ने दिया शांति-संदेश, सुखी होते देकर आनंद ।।

विजय केवल लोहे की नहीं, धर्म की रही धरा पर धूम ।

भिक्षु होकर रहते सम्राट, दया दिखलाते घर-घर घूम ।

यवन को दिया दया का दान, चीन को मिली धर्म की दृष्टि ।

मिला था स्वर्ण-भूमि को रत्न, शील की सिंहल को भी सृष्टि ।।

किसी का हमने छीना नहीं, प्रकृति का रहा पालना यहीं ।

हमारी जन्मभूमि थी यहीं, कहीं से हम आए थे नहीं ।।

जातियों का उत्थान-पतन, आँधियाँ, झड़ी, प्रचंड समीर ।

खड़े देखा, झेला हँसते, प्रलय में पले हुए हम वीर ।।

चरित थे पूत, भुजा में शक्ति, नम्रता रही सदा संपन्न ।

हृदय के गौरव में था गर्व, किसी को देख न सके विपन्न ।।

हमारे संचय में था दान, अतिथि थे सदा हमारे देव ।

वचन में सत्य, हृदय में तेज, प्रतिज्ञा मे रहती थी टेव ।।

वही है रक्त, वही है देश, वही साहस है, वैसा ज्ञान ।

वही है शांति, वही है शक्ति, वही हम दिव्य आर्य-संतान ।।

जियें तो सदा इसी के लिए, यही अभिमान रहे यह हर्ष ।

निछावर कर दें हम सर्वस्व, हमारा प्यारा भारतवर्ष ।।

-- जयशंकर प्रसाद

आग की भीख

धुँधली हुई दिशाएँ, छाने लगा कुहासा
कुचली हुई शिखा से आने लगा धुआँसा
कोई मुझे बता दे, क्या आज हो रहा है
मुंह को छिपा तिमिर में क्यों तेज सो रहा है
दाता पुकार मेरी, संदीप्ति को जिला दे
बुझती हुई शिखा को संजीवनी पिला दे
प्यारे स्वदेश के हित अँगार माँगता हूँ
चढ़ती जवानियों का श्रृंगार मांगता हूँ

बेचैन हैं हवाएँ, सब ओर बेकली है
कोई नहीं बताता, किश्ती किधर चली है
मँझदार है, भँवर है या पास है किनारा?
यह नाश आ रहा है या सौभाग्य का सितारा?
आकाश पर अनल से लिख दे अदृष्ट मेरा
भगवान, इस तरी को भरमा न दे अँधेरा
तमवेधिनी किरण का संधान माँगता हूँ
ध्रुव की कठिन घड़ी में, पहचान माँगता हूँ

आगे पहाड़ को पा धारा रुकी हुई है
बलपुंज केसरी की ग्रीवा झुकी हुई है
अग्निस्फुलिंग रज का, बुझ डेर हो रहा है
है रो रही जवानी, अँधेर हो रहा है
निर्वाक है हिमालय, गंगा डरी हुई है
निस्तब्धता निशा की दिन में भरी हुई है
पंचास्यनाद भीषण, विकराल माँगता हूँ
जड़ताविनाश को फिर भूचाल माँगता हूँ

मन की बंधी उमंगें असहाय जल रही है
अरमान आरजू की लाशें निकल रही हैं
भीगी खुशी पलों में रातें गुज़ारते हैं
सोती वसुन्धरा जब तुझको पुकारते हैं
इनके लिये कहीं से निर्भीक तेज ला दे
पिघले हुए अनल का इनको अमृत पिला दे
उन्माद, बेकली का उत्थान माँगता हूँ
विस्फोट माँगता हूँ, तूफान माँगता हूँ

आँसू भरे दृगों में चिनगारियाँ सजा दे
मेरे शमशान में आ श्रंगी जरा बजा दे
फिर एक तीर सीनों के आरपार कर दे
हिमशीत प्राण में फिर अंगार स्वच्छ भर दे
आमर्ष को जगाने वाली शिखा नयी दे
अनुभूतियाँ हृदय में दाता, अनलमयी दे
विष का सदा लहू में संचार माँगता हूँ
बेचैन जिन्दगी का मैं प्यार माँगता हूँ

ठहरी हुई तरी को ठोकर लगा चला दे
जो राह हो हमारी उसपर दिया जला दे
गति में प्रभंजनों का आवेग फिर सबल दे
इस जाँच की घड़ी में निष्ठा कड़ी, अचल दे
हम दे चुके लहु हैं, तू देवता विभा दे
अपने अनलविशिख से आकाश जगमगा दे
प्यारे स्वदेश के हित वरदान माँगता हूँ
तेरी दया विपद् में भगवान माँगता हूँ

- रामधारी सिंह दिनकर

A Cat in an Empty Apartment

Die? One does not do that to a cat.
Because what's a cat to do
in an empty apartment?
Climb the walls.
Caress against the furniture.
It seems that nothing has changed here,
but yet things are different.
Nothing appears to have been relocated,
yet everything has been shuffled about.
The lamp no longer burns in the evenings.

Footsteps can be heard on the stairway,
but they're not the ones.
The hand which puts the fish on the platter
is not the same one which used to do it.

Something here does not begin
at its usual time.
Something does not happen quite
as it should
Here someone was and was,
then suddenly disappeared
and now is stubbornly absent.

All the closets were peered into.
The shelves were walked through.
The rug was lifted and examined.
Even the rule about not scattering
papers was violated.

What more is to be done?
Sleep and wait.

Let him return,
at least make a token appearance.
Then he'll learn
that one shouldn't treat a cat like this.
He will be approached
as though unwillingly,
slowly,
on very offended paws.
With no spontaneous leaps or squeals at first.

- Wislawa Szymborska
translated from Polish by Walter Whipple

हम करें राष्ट आराधन

हम करें राष्ट आराधन
तन से मन से धन से
तन मन धन जीवनसे
हम करें राष्ट आराधन

अन्तर से मुख से कृती से
निश्र्चल हो निर्मल मति से
श्रध्धा से मस्तक नत से
हम करें राष्ट अभिवादन…

अपने हंसते शैशव से
अपने खिलते यौवन से
प्रौढता पूर्ण जीवन से
हम करें राष्ट का अर्चन…

अपने अतीत को पढकर
अपना ईतिहास उलटकर
अपना भवितव्य समझकर
हम करें राष्ट का चिंतन…

है याद हमें युग युग की जलती अनेक घटनायें
जो मां के सेवा पथ पर आई बनकर विपदायें
हमने अभिषेक किया था जननी का अरिशोणित से
हमने शृंगार किया था माता का अरिमुंडो से

हमने ही ऊसे दिया था सांस्कृतिक उच्च सिंहासन
मां जिस पर बैठी सुख से करती थी जग का शासन
अब काल चक्र की गति से वह टूट गया सिंहासन
अपना तन मन धन देकर हम करें पुन: संस्थापन

हम करें राष्ट आराधन
तन से मन से धन से
तन मन धन जीवनसे
हम करें राष्ट आराधन

--- जयशंकर प्रसाद
(चाणक्य धारावाहिक)

True Love

True love. Is it normal
is it serious, is it practical?
What does the world get from two people
who exist in a world of their own?

Placed on the same pedestal for no good reason,
drawn randomly from millions but convinced
it had to happen this way - in reward for what?
For nothing.
The light descends from nowhere.
Why on these two and not on others?
Doesn't this outrage justice? Yes it does.
Doesn't it disrupt our painstakingly erected principles,
and cast the moral from the peak? Yes on both accounts.

Look at the happy couple.
Couldn't they at least try to hide it,
fake a little depression for their friends' sake?
Listen to them laughing - its an insult.
The language they use - deceptively clear.
And their little celebrations, rituals,
the elaborate mutual routines -
it's obviously a plot behind the human race's back!

It's hard even to guess how far things might go
if people start to follow their example.
What could religion and poetry count on?
What would be remembered? What renounced?
Who'd want to stay within bounds?

True love. Is it really necessary?
Tact and common sense tell us to pass over it in silence,
like a scandal in Life's highest circles.
Perfectly good children are born without its help.
It couldn't populate the planet in a million years,
it comes along so rarely.

Let the people who never find true love
keep saying that there's no such thing.

Their faith will make it easier for them to live and die.

--- Wislawa Szymborska

Looking back in time

Looking into the deep sky,
I forget time passing by
and praise my mighty eyes
that carry me zillions of miles

Astral generations confound,
planets, stars, galaxies abound,
limited only, by
our strength of vision, &
the depth of perception

So trivial, so minute...
I let my ego of existence dissolve
The very next second I feel so strong
looking back in time so many a minute !



There are more stars in the universe than grains of sand on earth.

Social Blunder

'Twas the summer of the year 2001..& the heat was intense, as it was supposed to be the one of the most critical period in a future engineer's life. We had been introduced to the real world of science and mathematics last year in class 11th. Calculus and Mechanics were the most fascinating of all subjects, and their father, Sir Newton had attained a divine status. For the first time, there was a goal in life, to somehow reach a destination, nothing less than heaven -- IIT. I had little idea about why it was so important to go there, except that it was everybody's dream, and it was associated with the highest social status and respect one could get at that age. Also, there was a hunch that being there meant learning more about science and maths, in particular, their application - engineering, which had made human lives so comfortable. But it was just a hunch.

School was boring as it kept us away from solving the 'real' problems of Irodov & TMH. Therefore, I always attempted to squeeze as much time as possible from school hours to do what I liked to. That included reading in bus hours, self-study during sleep-inducing lectures, and maximum use of lunch hours. Teenage had set-in and hormonal goose-bumps due to the fairer sex were normal, but the JEE fever was too strong to tame them. Also, there was a stupid ego of masculinity ingrained from childhood that stopped from stooping so 'low' so as to talk to girls. Of course, it was not the same with 90% of the class at school. Some of them paid attention & performed assignments while others flattered teachers and had mastered the art of passing by hook or crook. They also paid enormous care to attracting the attention of girls and hence, their morning assemblies, lunch breaks and bus hours were put to a better use than mine. Obviously, girls enjoyed that and knew how to keep the guys running around. They were just like a chained dog that runs tirelessly in circle hoping to grip a bone totally out of its reach. Occasionally, one or two did manage to get hold of the bone, and they were the inspiration for the rest. However, I was out of that league, perhaps for better or worse.

Morning assemblies in DAV used to be good with a vedic school song in sanskrit and national anthem followed by the pledge, played with drumbeats. The pledge, which went like --"India is my country, all Indians are my brothers and sisters...." never used to augur well with boys and they'd modified it suitably. I didn't mind saying the original one, but couldn't help smiling when I heard the guys reciting a modified version.

It was the morning of July 25th and I was watching the preparations of the morning assembly. Just minutes before the assembly proceedings, a fair bespectacled girl, my classmate whose name I was almost sure was Sneha, approached me. I thought she was going to walk past me so I stepped aside and gave her the way.

But she stopped, and said "Hi!, Avishek". I looked around if there was anyone else with the same name, but she had pronounced the 'V' in my name correctly, so it really was me she was talking to. I replied, unable to hide my bewilderment, "Oh! Hi". She gauged my astonishment and said "I'm Sneha, I'm in your class".

" I know that ! We've been in the same class for over an year now." I muttered. Boys always know the names of all girls in their class, one because of the skewed gender ratio, and two, because they are girls.

"Yes but you hardly speak to anyone, so I really doubt you know everyone", she sounded logical, but I couldn't accept it.

"Yes, I come to school just for getting attendance, so your observation is right, but not your conclusion. I know everyone, at least their names."

"But you never talk...", she was saying something before I interrupted,

"Yes, I do",

but she interrupted me back "...you never talk to girls".

I was mum, as she was cent-per-cent right. "Actually, I'm generally occupied with something or the other, never got a chance to talk to you all, and then there are many boys, too with whom I don't generally interact. There is no reason as such.", I tried to save the situation. I knew that my non-involvement in class, had raised the curiosity of girls, but I presumed they knew the reason, too.

"How was the maths test yesterday, how did it go ?", she changed the topic to my relief.

"It was easy, simple chain-rule based problems of differentiation", I replied back, "How was yours ?".

"Well, I was absent the day it was taught, so I had no idea what to do, lets leave it", she replied and continued "Anyway its assembly time, see you later, bye!". I was just now shaken out of my minds pre-occupation in integrals and free-body diagrams, and I said to myself "Did she just talk to me ??". Sneha was pretty, so I said again, "Did she really talk to me ??"

The day passed quickly, and I made a few glances to the place where she used to sit, and found her staring back in one of them. Luckily, no one from my class had noticed me talking to her or vice versa. On reaching back home, the morning events memory had to fade, as I had a test in my coaching center, that demanded immediate focus. I screwed up the test, as the problems of rotational mechanics were difficult, and it left me thinking if there was still a loophole in my understanding. Next morning, I was reminded of the previous day's excitement only when the morning assembly was about to start and I found myself standing at the same place. I was dazed when she appeared in front of me, just at the moment I thought of her.

"Good morning, are you Ok?", Sneha said.

"I didn't sleep well", I replied.

"I know, you must have studied all night", she retorted.

"No, I never do that, I couldn't sleep well as I screwed up in a test at my coaching.", was my reply.

"You ? I can't believe it, you top exams here without attending classes, how is that possible ?", was an instant reply from her.

"Sneha, look, they're different types of exams, you can't compare them!", I retorted. I couldn't tolerate anyone comparing the JEE problems with school standard, even though they'd marauded my sleep. She was a bit taken aback at my way of response and I immediately tried to salvage, "How about you? What's up?" "Nothing much. I'm thinking of getting tuition by our maths teacher, Mr Sinha".

"Don't ! He's aweful. I can teach better, if only I had time.", I replied without thinking, then realized I had been boastful.

"I don't have a choice, if he tutors me, at least I'm assured of getting good marks in school", she said.

"That maybe true!", I said smiling,"But you can get a good score even without it, if you work hard. And think about the boards, not these school exams".

"Thats, true...",she replied and then added, " You look so cute when you smile". I stood silent for a moment, thinking if I heard her correct.

I looked at her, she was at peace, with no intentions of flirt in her eyes. "I think its time for assembly, we should go", I said and rushed to join the line. I didn't look at her during the day, but her words kept ringing in my ears. The last period was idle and I was mulling over a mechanics problem, trying to get rid of morning memories, when I heard it again.

"You're so cute...". Astonished, I turned to look and found my classmate Shekhar staring at me naughtily. "You're so cute, Avishek" he repeated. "What do you mean ?", I questioned. "Don't be so innocent ! Sneha told you that you're cute, didn't she ? And now everyone knows that !". I couldn't imagine the situation, perhaps this guy was present near us in morning and overheard our conversation, and now he has told everyone. That explains the extra smirks I'd been getting all day. But how could he tell everyone ?

"Ohh, thats not a big deal, a lot of people are cute", I pretended to be innocent.

"Ohh are they ? But apparently she has told it only to you. And mind you its Sneha.". Shekhar was quick. Shekhar was among the naughtiest in class, and I couldn't imagine the extent he could go to tease someone including girls. "She has a crush on you", he concluded.

"C'mmon she just said what came to her mind then, why are you drawing conclusions ?", I tried to pacify him, but he was unrelenting. Half of what he said made sense, as it was extremely unusual for a girl to say that in public, and that too to someone she didn't even know. But what if she'd just spoken impromptu, and it was just a compliment.

I tried hard but kept thinking about the incident all the way home. On reaching home, my mom noticed some extra lines on my forehead, but thought I must be tired. When she found me the same after an hour, she inquired, "Are you Ok? You look occupied.".

"Its nothing. A girl came and talked to me....", I said though I was unsure about what to say.

"Is that all ? What did she talk about ?", she laughed.

"Just usual class related stuff, but she also said I was cute.",I emptied my mind, thinking it would help me. "Accha (Ohh) ??", she was much serious now, "what kind of a girl is she ?".

"I don't know. This was only the second time she spoke with me, first one being yesterday.", I told the truth. Mom kept quite for some time.

"Stay away from girls like these! They speak sweet words to make you fall for them; and then make you work and spend for them.", she postulated. Although some girls actually did that, I protested, "Ma, how can you generalize? May be she just wants to make me a friend."

"Don't you have enough friends? And do you have time for them ?", she queried, "Do whatever you want when you reach IIT. Not now." I thought it wise to not take it further and went for my afternoon siesta. I somehow tried to repress my thoughts, but only until the next morning. This time I took care to stand some where else, and watch if she came looking for me. She didn't. Perhaps, the whole class knew about yesterday's episode (thanks to Shekhar!!) and she didn't want to take any more risks. I was both happy and sad. We didn't see each other on that day, and I thought I could finally concentrate on my studies. I could never imagine about a bigger distraction that was in store for me.

Shekhar and his class associates had transmitted the information all across and it had spread in all sections, word-to-mouth. Now everyone I met asked with an unusual smile," How do you do ?"...and without waiting for my answer .." I heard you're doing great these days."

"I'm good, as always", I replied showing everything was normal. I'd thought this would exist for some time and then dissolve, but I was wrong. A week passed, and everyday some guy would tell me that I was cute, and would look for my reaction. I never imagined people could be so cruel, even my so-called friends. I don't know what was the condition with Sneha as I knew that her friends were champion teasers, too. Sometimes when the teacher would call my name during attendance, it was followed by "..so cute" from somewhere in the class, followed by a giggle from everyone else. I had no choice but to giggle myself, not letting the embarrassment show on my face. It could come anytime from anywhere, and I got a respite only when I got down from school bus. Ten days had passed and it had almost become like a torture for me. Now people had given unsolicited names to Sneha, which I wasn't comfortable to hear, and couldn't imagine what she would think of them. She would come to school alternate days, and people would ask me why she was absent. I wanted to talk to her to share our agony, but there was no way I could. I decided to end it some way, but found it difficult to figure out how. It had started from Shekhar, and had to end through him. That day when he met me with a smile, I interrupted, "I know I'm cute, so what ?".

"I was going to ask your physics lab notebook.", he smirked. "I see you're not talking to Sneha these days. What happened ?".

"Listen, I don't have any such feelings for her, which you think, and neither does she. All you guys are alike for me." He replied with a laughter, which really annoyed me, "She's like my sister, and I can prove it on the day of the Rakhee. And I don't care what you guys think.", I said without thought and left.

I recalled and mulled over what I'd said. I didn't mean it, but I was sure, it would make the class silent. I opened my school diary to check homework, when I accidentally saw the calender. 'Rakhee' was on the day after tomorrow, August 6, 2001,and it was a holiday. "Thank God!", I said to myself. The class was silent the entire day. Perhaps it had worked, I thought ! In the last period, Shekhar came upto me and told, "Sorry, we should not have teased you about someone whom you regarded as a sister. I told this to class, including Sneha." I felt like getting up and slapping him, but somehow controlled myself. I was quite sure I didn't have any sisterly feelings for her. She was just a classmate, and we could be friends, good friends. I kept thinking if what I did was right, and what would she think of me. Was it a cheap act? Would she realize my predicament ? I was sure she was going through similar one,too. But she didn't do anything stupid like me. Why did I ? Now, she had another peer pressure - the pressure of proving that she thought of me in the same way. I felt like bunking school the next day, but decided against that. Nobody said anything that day, and I continued in my usual routine. There was an unusual excitement among girls that day since the morning period. Sneha came late, in the first period, just before attendance. Apparently, she too had felt like bunking, but finally decided to come. During the break time, I was alone in class, in my seat solving some problems sheets. Sneha entered and went to her seat, in the opposite end to mine. I felt like getting up and talking to her, but something stopped me. Moments later, I sensed she was walking towards me. She came and just stood near me, quiet. Then she opened her fist and there it was - a Rakhee. I looked at it, but didn't have courage to look at her. I just extended my right hand, and she tied it, still quiet. I wanted to explain the situation to her but my throat went dry with guilt. We exchanged a last glance, and everything was said, perhaps. As soon as she left, other girls entered the class, saw me, my wrist, and giggled.

I had mixed feelings about the incident. On one hand I thought I was freed of all distractions, on the other I thought I'd lost a possible friend. I had always felt girls and boys could be very good friends. Perhaps Sneha felt that, too. If she really had had a crush on me, she would never do this. She had proved it. Or was she under peer pressure ? I didn't know and couldn't think of a way to know. After much effort to calm myself, I concluded that now I could talk to her freely like a brother, and no one in the class could say anything. Such is the pressure of our society and its weird norms! Do we have to bow to them ? Many conflicting questions continued to raid my turbulent mind. I was sure of only one thing - I was sure that she was hurt.

I went home and found my mausi (mom's sister) had come. She saw the rakhee on my hand and immediately inquired, "Rakhee is tomorrow, na ? And you have a sister in your school, too". I smiled. Every year, I used to get a dozen rakhees tied, some from my cousin sisters and some from girls in neighborhood whom I was socially related since childhood. It had been ensured that we'd followed the DAV pledge without even knowing it. My mom was surprised, and asked me the same question , "Who has tied this ?".

"Its from Sneha, about whom I told you a week before. I told in class that I thought of her like a sister, so she had to do it.", I replied.

"Ohh! good girl.", my mom felt relieved. Then she narrated the whole 'so cute' story to my mausi (mother's sister), and they both laughed their hearts out.

"Ohh...so little Avi has grown up now, but you are really cute.", mausi replied, still smiling. The word 'cute' was a mockery for me. I looked at mom angrily and said, "You all are responsible for this. Your society and your mindset, it has forced her to do this. Anyway she is my sister now, and please don't think or say bad about her, at least from now on." Mausi was surprised at my unprecedented outbreak, Mom realised this and said, "Leave it son, you look tired. Have food and take some rest, before you leave for coaching. And focus!... you know on what."

"I know that, thanks for reminding", I said and left. I never hid my emotions from my mom, and only she knew how angry I could get, at times. I was angry at no one but myself.

On the way back from coaching, I bought some gifts for Sneha, a greeting card, a cute little maths handbook, and a pen which had tiny mirrors and pretty stone chips engraved on it. I was fine with her being my sister, but I was not sure if she was. I had some things to tell her and some things to ask, and the best way was to write a letter. I apologized and mentioned about how the class had pestered me, and how it led to my reaction. It sounded like an excuse, but I felt she would believe it. I also wrote that I held the thread as very sacred, and I will be present for her anytime she needed me. I also offered to help her with maths, if needed. After the holiday, when the school reopened I went to the same place where we first talked. She didn't come. The reason could have been anything, but I felt it was because of me. I waited again the next day. I saw her alighting from bus and going towards the assembly. I approached her, and she stopped when she saw me. Now, I didn't care what people thought. I said,

"Hi! How have you been? You were absent yesterday, weren't you ?."

"I wasn't feeling well." I wanted to ask 'why' but perhaps I knew.

"Ohh ! Hope you're feeling better now ! This is for you!". I gave the gift to her and said, "It also has a letter. Tell me what you think. Talk to me whenever you feel like.".

"Thank you.", was her only reply. Some how I felt she wasn't enthusiastic about talking to me. And she wasn't the same bubbly-cheerful as the last time. I wanted to know what was on in her mind, and wished I could read it.

In class nobody said anything about it, though I was sure many guys had seen me approaching her and handing over a gift. It was very strange. One incident had changed everything. Days passed. Everything suddenly returned to the way it was before the incident. But now the guys never indulged in the normal 'filthy' talk about girls near me, as they were afraid I could pass the information. I was happy about the change of attitude. What I did was a blunder induced by society, a social blunder. Perhaps it was good for me, that's what I thought, but what was the cost paid?. Obviously, I was wrong.

At times, I waited for her at the same place before morning assemblies. But now, she used to come late, during assembly. She never made an attempt to talk even during lunch break. And I was too introvert to talk. I wasn't sure of what she thought. And I couldn't figure out how to start a conversation. I decided to keep myself busy, wait and concentrate. My wait never ended, but the year did. Boards went reasonably well, thanks to the gaps CBSE gives between exams. JEE used to be a nightmare, and continued to be, for many subsequent years. Other things became so important that this trivial episode went into a corner of my memory. It would have been flushed out, but for an incident later in life, that refreshed all memories.

To be continued........................

All characters in this story (except me) are fictitious and any resemblance to an actual event is purely unintended.

The Palanquin Bearers

Lightly, O lightly we bear her along,
She sways like a flower in the wind of our song;
She skims like a bird on the foam of a stream,
She floats like a laugh from the lips of a dream.
Gaily, O gaily we glide and we sing,
We bear her along like a pearl on a string.

Softly, O softly we bear her along,
She hangs like a star in the dew of our song;
She springs like a beam on the brow of the tide,
She falls like a tear from the eyes of a bride.
Lightly, O lightly we glide and we sing,
We bear her along like a pearl on a string.

--- Sarojini Naidu
(The Nightingale of India)

Haunted

It haunts me time and again, the question - Why was I born ? The fact that the world would be the same with or without me, is agonizingly stimulating. So many are born every day and so many die. What difference does it create to the world on large scale ? None. Birth and death are celebrated and mourned (respectively) only once a year, and that too, only by few loved ones. Is it a sin to be born ?

The idea of salvation says the prime objective of being born is to acquire freedom from the cycle of life and death. Why can't be any other way out ? If God exists, and he loves us, why does he have to put us through this ? If he doesn't, then who is the conniver? Well, these thoughts aren't expected from the unfortunate majority who struggle to make their ends meet. But the well-off minority, why don't they ever ponder about such a fundamental question? Perhaps they're too busy looking for superficial entities, as if they'll live unto eternity.

There are only two ways out of this conundrum, either live like the well-off minority, or aspire to be one of those handful men who have made a difference by their presence. The world today would be something else, had they not existed. But they were among the rarest of rare, & possessed extraordinary qualities, innate or acquired.

A Pslam of life

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream ! —
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.

Life is real ! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal ;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way ;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle !
Be a hero in the strife !

Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant !
Let the dead Past bury its dead !
Act,— act in the living Present !
Heart within, and God o'erhead !

Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time ;

Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate ;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.

--- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Let me

Let me drown in your eyes
if they'll start to glow!

Let me dissolve in your tears
...they'll cease to flow!

Let me melt in your embrace
as I take the blow!

Let me vanish in your heart
and we'll begin to grow!

I'll never complain

I'll never complain,
whatever be the pain
not sure if I did, earlier
..it won't happen again !

Do what you like to
go walk the talk,
I'm just a maverick who
you're free to mock !

You expect me to share,
just a pretense of care,
'cause if you really did,
one wouldn't really be morbid !

I was breathing when you
were away...
I am...even now,
& hope to, without you!

Isn't it all that matters ?

I'll never complain,
whatever be the pain
not sure if I did, earlier
..it won't happen again !

Gandhiji's Talisman

"I will give you a talisman. Whenever you are in doubt, or when the self becomes too much with you, apply the following test. Recall the face of the poorest and the weakest person whom you may have seen, and ask yourself, if the step you contemplate is going to be of any use to him. Will he gain anything by it? Will it restore him to a control over his own life and destiny? In other words, will it lead to swaraj [freedom] for the hungry and spiritually starving millions?
Then you will find your doubts and your self melt away."

--- Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi
[Source-Mahatma Gandhi [Last Phase, Vol. II (1958), P. 65].

वो मौसम का झोंका

किसी मौसम का झोंका था, जो इस दीवार पर लटकी हुई तस्वीर तिरछी कर गया है

गये सावन में ये दीवारें यूँ सीली नहीं थी
ना जाने क्यों इस दफ़ा इनमे सीलन आ गयी है,
दरारें पड़ गयी हैं
और सीलन इस तरह बहती है जैसे,
खुशक़ रुखरारों पे गीले आँसु चलते हैं.

ये बारिश गुनगुनाती थी इसी छत की मुंडेरो पर
ये बारिश गुनगुनाती थी इसी छत की मुंडेरो पर
ये घर की खिड़कियों के काँच पर उंगली से लिख जाती थी सन्देसे
गिरती रहती है बैठी हुई अब बंद रोशनदानों के पीछे.

दुपहरें ऐसी लगती हैं,
बिना मुहरों के खाली खाने रखें हैं
ना कोई खेलने वाला है बाज़ी
और ना कोई चाल चलता है

ना दिन होता है अब, ना रात होती है, सभी कुछ रुक गया है
वो क्या मौसम का झोंका था, जो इस दीवार पर लटकी हुई तस्वीर तिरछी कर गया है


--- गुलज़ार ( "पिया तोरा कैसा अभिमान", रेनकोट)

Your laughter

Take bread away from me, if you wish,
take air away, but
do not take from me your laughter.

Do not take away the rose,
the lance flower that you pluck,
the water that suddenly
bursts forth in joy,
the sudden wave
of silver born in you.

My struggle is harsh and I come back
with eyes tired
at times from having seen
the unchanging earth,
but when your laughter enters
it rises to the sky seeking me
and it opens for me all
the doors of life.

My love, in the darkest
hour your laughter
opens, and if suddenly
you see my blood staining
the stones of the street,
laugh, because your laughter
will be for my hands
like a fresh sword.

Next to the sea in the autumn,
your laughter must raise
its foamy cascade,
and in the spring, love,
I want your laughter like
the flower I was waiting for,
the blue flower, the rose
of my echoing country.

Laugh at the night,
at the day, at the moon,
laugh at the twisted
streets of the island,
laugh at this clumsy
boy who loves you,
but when I open
my eyes and close them,
when my steps go,
when my steps return,
deny me bread, air,
light, spring,
but never your laughter
for I would die.

---- Pablo Neruda

I do not love you except because I love you

I do not love you except because I love you;
I go from loving to not loving you,
From waiting to not waiting for you
My heart moves from cold to fire.

I love you only because it's you the one I love;
I hate you deeply, and hating you
Bend to you, and the measure of my changing love for you
Is that I do not see you but love you blindly.

Maybe January light will consume
My heart with its cruel
Ray, stealing my key to true calm.

In this part of the story I am the one who
Dies, the only one, and I will die of love because I love you,
Because I love you, Love, in fire and blood.

Sonnet LXVI
---- Pablo Neruda (Nobel laureate, 1971)

Metamorphosis

Painful, it is
when life whips at you,
with lacerating blows !
And you wail, anyone will !

Unless you're blessed,
that continues.......
Perhaps, it is a test
or a lesson of forbearance !

A stage comes when,
skin metamorphoses into hide...
when you no longer feel the pangs
& tears dry before they betide !

And, all of a sudden,
they stop...the whips!
And you start missing them,
the void of pain pains!

Duels with God

God and I
have been the best of friends
and the worst of foes
We play games & have duels,
and he always wins !

In hide n seek, his favorite,
he could see me
no matter where I hid,
but I could never,
in any nook and corner.
I would then call, as
was sure he could hear,
and I felt he was near..
but he didn't answer!
Instead, he would come and
hit me from behind..
as a sign of victory, and
I would fall,
my nose bleeding !

When I desired a milieu
in which I could nurture..
he led me into one
that was good enough
only to rust !
When I'd forgiven him,
like a friend does,
years later he inveigled me
to the place I'd always
wanted to be !
Funny, is it?
To put a putrefying seed
into a fertile land,
and laugh at its incapacity?

When I craved for a company,
he allowed me none,
not even his.
I excused him, and
thought it to be
another lesson
in the 'ways of life'.
Slowly, I fell in love
with solitude, and got
intimate with inanimates !
but then he plotted to
put people around &
one fine day, stole
my best mate
among inanimates!

He has prevailed in
all duels we've had !
But there will be,
yes, a final one;
wherein I'll have all
my barriers overcome;
I'll transcend
the binding dimension;
he'll have no choice
but grant freedom;
and it'll be ME
who would've won.

(The premise for this poem is that all that happens is controlled by God!)

The Rainy Day

The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the moldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.

My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
My thoughts still cling to the moldering Past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast

And the days are dark and dreary.

Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.

--- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

If thou must love me, let it be for nought

If thou must love me, let it be for nought
Except for love's sake only. Do not say
'I love her for her smile—her look—her way
Of speaking gently,—for a trick of thought
That falls in well with mine, and certes brought
A sense of pleasant ease on such a day'—
For these things in themselves, Beloved, may
Be changed, or change for thee,—and love, so wrought,
May be unwrought so. Neither love me for
Thine own dear pity's wiping my cheeks dry,—
A creature might forget to weep, who bore
Thy comfort long, and lose thy love thereby!
But love me for love's sake, that evermore
Thou mayst love on, through love's eternity.

Sonnet XIV

-- Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Figments of imagination

The figments of my imagination are like wrecks sublime,
Waiting to be unearthed until I plunge into the seas of passion.
I climb a bewitched ladder into the world of ecstasy;
Where strangeness rules and reason fades into oblivion.
I become a zombie, a slave to the musings of my psyche.
The sudden unbearable urge to give vent to my imagination.
The passion of creativity seizes me by the throat.
The lines that you peruse are the only culmination.


The figments of my imagination are like wrecks sublime,
Waiting to be unearthed until I plunge into the seas of passion.
I try to mould words like clay being shaped into a pot,
The effort leaves me sweating; defeated in exhaustion.
But the elation at giving life to my humble musings;
Is more than I could ever ask for in compensation.
I ogle at these etchings like an indulgent mother,
Attaining divine content with every single adulation.

The most..........

The most destructive habit - Worry
The greatest joy - Giving
The greatest loss - Loss of self-respect

The most satisfying work - Helping others
The ugliest personality trait - Selfishness
The most endangered species - Dedicated leaders
Our greatest natural resources - Youth

The greatest 'shot in the arm' - Encouragement
The greatest problem to overcome - Fear
The most effective sleeping pill - Peace of Mind

The most powerful force in life - Love
The most dangerous act - A Gossip
The worlds most incredible computer - Brain
The worst thing to be without - Hope

The deadliest weapon - The toungue
The two most power filled two words - 'I Can'
The greatest asset - Faith
The most worthless emotion - Self Pity

The most beautiful attire - Smile
The most prized possession - Integrity
The most powerful channel of communication - Prayer
The most contagious spirit - Enthusiasm

Life ends when you stop dreaming
Hope ends when you stop believing
Love ends when you stop caring
And, friendship ends when you stop sharing

---- Anonymous

किस मुहूर्त में तूने बनाई नारी

हे ईश्वर! है ये तेरी कैसी कलाकारी ?
किस मुहूर्त में तूने बनाई ये नारी !

"ये चाहती क्या हैं?", प्रश्‍न है ये सबसे भारी
"हम किसी से कम नही", समझ गयी जब दुनिया सारी
फिर क्यो कहा "३३ % सीट हमारी !" ?

नित सरदर्द हो पिता को, जब रहती हैं कुँवारी
मनचाहे वर के लिए करती हैं 'सोमवारी'
फिर शादी के बाद उसका जीना कर देती हैं भारी

फरमाईशें इतनी, इनकी भरी रहे अलमारी
आराम की जिंदगी हो, नौकर-बंगला-गाड़ी
देर से घर जाओ तो शक होती है वफ़ादारी
रो-धोकर, चिल्लाकर, चलाती हैं आरी

सुनो ध्यान से, सलाह है एक लाभकारी
यदि खेलना चाहते हो पूरी पारी
पहले शोध करो इनपे, बढ़ाओ जानकारी
तभी कदम बढ़ाने में है समझदारी

पर सब मग्न हैं, व्यस्त है दुनिया सारी
कोई ना सोचे, समस्या ये विकट भारी
इसी असमंजस मे रहे कलाम-अटल बिहारी

यही सोचते बीत जाएगी उम्र हमारी..
किस मुहूर्त में तूने बनाई नारी !

La Belle Dam Sans Merci

("The Beautiful Lady without Pity")


O what can ail thee knight at arms
alone and palely loitering?
The sedge has witherd from the lake
and no birds sing

O what can ail thee knight at arms
so haggard and woebegone?
The squirrel's granary is full
and the harvests done

I see a lily on thy brow
with anguish moist and fever dew
and on thy cheeks a fading rose
fast withereth too

I met a lady in the meads
Full beautiful - a faery's child
her hair was long, her foot was light
and her eyes were wild

I made a garland for her head
and bracelets too and fragrant zone
she looked at me as she did love
and made sweet moan

I sat her on my pacing steed
and nothing else saw all day long
For sidelong would she bend and sing
A faery's song

She found me roots of relish sweet
And honey wild, and manna dew
And sure in language strange she said
'I love thee true'

She took me to her elfin grot
and there she wept and sighed full sore
And there I shut her wild wild eyes
with kisses four

And there she lulled me asleep
and there I dreamed Ah woe betide!
The latest dream I ever dreamt
on the cold hillside

I saw pale kings and princes too
Pale warriors, death pale were they all
They cried 'La Belle Dam Sans Merci
Hath thee in thrall!'

I saw their starv'd lips in the gloam
with horrid warning gaped wide
And I awoke and found me here
on the cold hillside

And this is why I soujourn here
alone and palely loitering
Though the sedge has withered from the lake
and no birds sing.

----- John Keats

Turbulence

Those silent waters weave for him
A fluctuant mutable world and dim,
Where wavering masses bulge and and gape
Mysterious, and shape to shape
Dies momentarily through whorl and hollow,
And form and line and solid follow
Solid and line and form to dream
Fantastic down the eternal stream;
An obscure world, a shifting world,
Bulbous, or pulled to thin, or curled,
Or serpentine, or driving arrows,
Or serene slidings, or march narrows.

---- From "The Fish" by Rupert Brooke
(Posted in Physical fluid dynamics by Tritton)

RAC

My third visit to Bangalore in last two months was going to end. As usual, I was leaving with mixed feelings. For me, a ‘Bangalore visit’ was always welcome, as a respite from my busy schedule, dank Chennai climate, amid temple-like IISc and not to mention a buoyant environment at my friend’s place and a wonderful greenery, of course!. But at the same time, since the work progress was not at par, I was thinking of what to report, when I get back. I had booked online, a sleeper class ticket (Actually, I love to travel in sleeper class where once gets to see the real Indian middle class) in Kaveri Express which was at 11.45 pm from Bangalore city railway station. IISc is quite near to the railway station and at night, one can reach comfortably in 15-20 min. by bus, so I started at 10.45 pm hoping to reach in time. I  managed to reach the station by 11.25 pm. When the train finally came at 11.35 pm, and I found myself looking in my ticket, I realized that my booked ticket had an RAC 58 (reservation against cancellation) status. I was sure it would have got confirmed. But still, I had to know my coach no. to board the train !

“Oh God, what a jerk, I am! How could I forget to check the status?”

I decided to rush back to platform no. 1 and check the status at the counter. “Will I be able to make it ?”, I asked myself. A part of me said “Go ahead, dude, life is full of risks”, and the other one ridiculed “Are you crazy ? You have committed one mistake already, why commit another?”. I didn’t realize, but somehow I found myself running to platform 1. I might have run faster than the fastest Indian. People around stared at me, then I realized that normally people run towards the train and not away from it, which I was. Somehow, I reached the counter and inquired the half-asleep clerk for my reservation status. From my ticket and seeing me panting he realized the emergency and scribbled something on my ticket and I set off on my way back to platform no. 5 where my train was all set to go, without me on it! On my way, I read my ticket –  it was coach S11, seat 71. The signal was clear, and the train was about to leave any minute. Luckily, my coach was right at the place where one gets down from the stairs.

As soon as I boarded, the train set-off. I thought, “Seconds late, and you would be returning to IISc”, panting heavily. I thanked God, and admired my ability to handle difficult situations like these. I decided to ease my breath, and enjoy fresh air before going and resting at my reserved seat. Little did I know what was in store for me that night, which could become the most important one for my life!

If you have traveled in sleeper coaches, you would know they have 9 compartments with 72 seats. My seat was 71, a side-lower seat, which I normally don’t prefer as it is difficult to adjust one’s body while sleeping. From my standing position, I saw a fine young lady, rather, an attractive girl sitting on my seat staring out of the window. Obviously, she hadn’t noticed me from my standing position. I could see only half of her face, as the other half was covered by her hair which was flowing due to the gushing wind, which made her look even more beautiful. “But what is she doing on my seat, maybe she’s on 72” I thought. I went and kept my bag on the seat, showing her that I hadn’t noticed her sitting. She turned suddenly, looked at me not looking at her, and gazed her eyes back out of the window. I guessed, if she was trying to locate any ‘spirits’ out of the train window, that perhaps come out of their graves in dark nights and enjoy damsels staring at them!

I felt the cold wind cause chills down my spine, but didn’t want to ask her to close the window, as the scene was too good! A part of me said “What are you doing, you ass? Is it decent to stare at a girl like this?” Immediately, the other half said “You fool, this is the first, and might be the last time, you have a decent-looking girl sitting in front of you in a train, are you going to keep staring at her, or would pick a conversation, at least?”. Let me confess, that I am bad at many things, but I am at my worst at starting a conversation with a girl. Its as if God forgot to put a capacitor responsible for the job, in my brain circuit. After 20 min. or so, I was quite sure, that she was alone, as any guardian or a friend accompanying a girl won’t keep quiet for such a long time. But still, I couldn’t think of a way to start a talk. All other inmates of my compartment had gone to sleep without waiting for the TTE to come. It was then I noticed a Chinese looking Indian guy, perhaps from North East, coming towards our seat. He came straight and said “ 72 ?, where is 72?” We both looked at him, and then looked at each other. “It’s side upper”, I said, and asked “Which coach, Sir?” “S11! is it not?” he replied, showing me his ticket as if I was a TTE. Indeed it was written in clear letters, and it wasn’t even an e-ticket. Perhaps the guy was late in boarding the train, and might have got on into some other coach. But then what was the young lady doing in my seat? Though this was the worst way to start a conversation, I said, politely “Ma’am, could you tell me what is your coach and seat number?”, which I think she didn’t hear. I repeated it again, louder.

“It is S11 – 71, same as yours”, she said in fluent English.

“What do you mean, same as yours?”, I said.

She replied, ‘Don’t you know that this seat no. 71,..an RAC is allotted to two persons?’

I said, ‘Of course not, let me check your ticket, please?’ I knew I was annoying her, but there wasn’t a choice. “Why don’t you check yours, first?”, she said. I pulled out my ticket, and to my utter amazement, I saw something written in blue ink, from which I could make out the letters ‘A’ and ‘C’, but there was no ‘R’. I recalled the situation of emergency and understood the mistake, and immediately said, ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t see my ticket, actually, I was in a bit of hurry, so …..’, tried to explain the situation. I thought it might have been amusing but she didn’t smile, just listened intently. One can never know what may sound amusing to a girl and what not, it is more complex than quantum electrodynamics. Till then Mr Sino-Indian had retired on his seat. It was then when we saw Mr TTE coming. Having realized that it was my responsibility to start a conversation, I said ‘I thought the status would have confirmed..but..Don’t worry, the TTE is coming, I’ll talk to him, we’ll get separate seats’.

“I thought nobody would come on 72, but now………’,she said sounding tensed.

"So that’s why she was so cool all the time", I realized. Mr TTE came to our compartment, and I allowed all other members to finish their ticket checks so that we had ample time to sort out our problem. They did, half asleep, and slept again. Mr BT Vishwanath Babu, the TTE, too finished his work, swiftly and when he was done with Mr Sino-Indian, I uttered in a low voice, "Sir, I hope you realize the situation, we both have an RAC ticket for the same seat, so please…please try to get a seat, and I’ll have to move there".

He said, “I have finished 7 coaches, no seats vacant as yet, 4 more to go, I’ll tell you as soon as I get one....you could have booked a ‘tatkal’ ticket instead” He sounded like a marketing manager of railways, and I realized how railways have earned so much of cash through this tatkal scheme. But since I was the ‘seeker’, I pretended that I had indeed, made a grave mistake. Who would have thought that RAC ticket wouldn’t get confirmed?

She seemed satisfied with my imploring, but suddenly said, ‘Sir, please don’t forget, its very very urgent’ to which Mr Babu said, ‘Madam, I can only try, but no guarantee’ and went to the next coach.

‘Maybe he wanted money, but I don’t know how to offer’ she said, first time starting the talk.

"Ya, perhaps, I know that TTEs have a seat in every train, which they often ‘sell’", showing my experience. “Then, you should’ve offered, we could’ve shared the amount”, she said.

“I am hopeful of getting a spare seat, if he doesn’t, then I’ll try’, I replied.

“But how long are we going to wait? Its 12.30 am already, and I want to sleep”, she said yawning. Although my sleep had vanished due to multiple adrenaline rushes, I said, “Same, here! But we’ll have to wait at least half an hour, that’s the approx. time it will take him to cover all the coaches’. She seemed satisfied, and looked at me, first time in my eyes, her gaze was so intense that I almost thought of dropping out, but I didn’t. Ultimately, she fixed her gaze back to the ‘spirits’ outside the train.

It was then, when it occurred to me, “What if I was wrong, what if the TTE doesn’t turn up ? None of us mentioned that we two didn’t know each other, not even our names. He could easily have assumed that we are related. She is south-Indian without doubt, and I look like one, too!! But I dare not say this to her, she’ll flare!". A chill went down my spine, not due to the cold wind, but at the thought of what would happen in that case. I didn’t know where to locate the TTE, and how he would react if I offered money. Officially, it’s a crime to even offer ‘bribe’. But then I hoped, with optimism, that such a situation wouldn’t arise.

We both were seated in front of each other, legs folded, and there was a gap of 2 inches between her foot and mine. Obviously, it would be terrible to sleep in such a posture. It was strange, but true, that only the two of us knew for sure that we were total strangers. In Indian society, two ‘strangers’ of different genders aren’t supposed to stay near each other for long, let alone, sleep for 5 hours, so the option was simply ruled out, on moral grounds. I closed my eyes, and decided to do a quick breathing exercise, to calm down my turbulent mind. I found it difficult to concentrate, and closing my eyes made no difference, for her image, with her hair falling all over her face, was fixed in my mental framework. It was then I heard a voice, “Are you asleep?” “Yes, I am”, I said opening my eyes.

She giggled, “I can see that !”… I don’t know what happened but it quelled my tiredness and nervousness. Indeed, there is definitely a power in ‘smile’. I smiled back.

“Don’t worry; I am not going to sleep on this seat!” I uttered, trying to make it sound amusing.

“What do you mean?”, she said, serious again.

“What I said is in plain English, which I hope you understand.”, I replied. Of course, there could be a lot of meanings that could be derived from that, but what I’d said was only in literal sense.

“What if he doesn’t turn up?”, she asked, “I should have canceled my ticket, and taken a bus, don’t know why I took a chance, thinking no one would turn up on the seat above or on this one”, she muttered, cursing herself. I decided to keep quiet. Sometimes silence is the best defense, indeed. I couldn't guess what she thought at my silence, but then she retorted, “I am asking something from you, Mr Avishek!”.

I was dumbstruck, “Oh God!, she knows my name, how come she knows it ?, Did she see my I-card that I'd shown to TTE ? …No....Not possible, she was far”. “You fool! she saw the reservation chart, which you didn’t as you were busy running around across platforms”. All these thoughts flashed in my mind in fraction of a second. How could I do such a mistake? I always check on the charts for my name before boarding…always! This was the first time, I hadn’t. I felt bad at my foolishness. In college days (as if it was long ago!), when we as a group used to go back after vacation, by the Punjab Mail, we used to scan the charts for all females in the age group 16-28 in our compartment. It was a nasty exercise, but somehow we felt proud doing it, indeed, those days were cool! But now it was no longer a fun, certainly not when traveling alone, and then with a greater level of maturity acquired. But at least I should’ve checked my name, and as a result I would’ve known her name, too.

Meanwhile.. she was looking at me, staring, expecting an answer. “So you know my name, don’t you ?”. “Yes, and I know you don’t know mine”, she smiled.

“How come?”I retorted. “I saw you were panting, when you boarded, I guessed you might have been late and being in haste, you wouldn’t have had the time to read the chart”. Indeed, she was a beauty with brains, I said, “You’re smart!”.

“Thanks!”, came her reply. “But aren’t you the one who is from IIT?”, she quipped.

“Oh!, you know that, too!, I said. “But that is simple, you saw it on my jacket!”. I was wearing a jacket-cum-swetshirt which had ‘IIT Madras’ written in big letters at the back.

“But you are certainly smarter than me!”, I replied. Girls have a liking for being praised; they like to hear someone singing about them, always. And it worked, she chuckled, “Yes, I am!”. “But you haven’t answered my question…”,

“Which one ?”, I said.

“Ohh! You’re a dumb IITian with a short term memory loss”, she laughed, ripping me apart. Surprisingly, I found her statement more amusing than annoying, and I laughed. “Shh!, we should not wake up others!, she said. I said, “Its not fair, you know so much about me – my name, my address, my IQ, and I know nothing about you, except that you’re smart and…..”, this was best way to get her speak about her.

“And what ?” she was curious. “….and pretty!” I completed, still thinking what I did was right or not.

“First we should solve our problem….,” she said, as if she didn’t notice my admiring her.

“Ok, I’ll go and look for the TTE, and solve our conundrum”, I replied. Though I said it, I felt too lazy to budge. But still, I went on a search for Mr BTV Babu.

“Do you need money?” she quizzed, and I replied in negative, smiling. I soon realized that this was the first time I’d told a girl, more importantly, a stranger that she was beautiful, and it had been the longest conversation I’d ever had. I felt that I was not as dumb at it, as I’d previously thought. I went up to the last coach groping my way in the dark compartments, and came back, not finding Mr TTE.

On returning, I found that she had dozed off comfortably, covering the entire seat, maybe she’d assumed that I would find a solution to our ‘confounding problem’. I asked myself “What shall I do now, how do I wake her up and tell her?? I don’t even know her name so as to call her. I can’t shout here.” all thoughts crammed their way in my mind simultaneously. There was some space for me to sit, but I preferred to stand and watch her. She was an exquisite beauty, a masterpiece of God’s art. The best time to admire a young woman’s beauty is to watch her breathe when she is asleep. You can stare at her without causing her the slightest annoyance, pleasure or vanity. Then suddenly she woke up and caught me staring at her, and I uttered “Hello, I just returned, Sorry... couldn’t find him.” “Now what ???, she said in a tone half asleep, half annoyed, as if she felt like jumping out of the train.

“You only said, that you will sort out the problem”. I realized that probably I had been too optimistic.

“Maybe the TTE couldn’t find any spare seat, and I didn’t notice any spare seat either in all the coaches upto S1.”, I tried to prove my innocence.

“There is only one way…actually two….but ultimately one”, I continued.

“I am not in a mood to solve your puzzles”, she said in a loud tone sufficient to wake up other passengers. I felt ashamed and she too realized that a couple of them had woken up, including Mr Sino-Indian. But then they slept again, thinking it might be another couple-quibble. “They can’t even stop fighting in train”, they might have thought and I smiled thinking this.

“Are you smiling or am I dreaming ?,” she quizzed, “Do you even realize what soup you have put us into?,” “Me?? I have put us into trouble?? So you mean I asked the railways to allot us an RAC seat?,” I expressed my false anger.

“Yes, if you had offered money to the TTE, then, we would be sleeping by now, I mean in separate seats, of course!”, she tried to prove her point. “Ok, tell me what are the one or two solutions you have in your mind”. “See, its simple. One of us has to go and sleep elsewhere”.

“I already know that, you’re not Einstein!”, she quipped.

“Let me finish, because there are no vacant seats, one of us has to sleep on the floor, maybe between the two lower seats in the front.” She looked at me annoyingly and didn’t say anything but I could make out from her face that she was aghast at the idea of sleeping on floor.

“Don’t worry, I will volunteer for that,”, I said and reached for my bag and took out the Chennai Times that I’d bought on my way to Bangalore. “This is perhaps, the best use of a newspaper”, I thought. Incidentally, the page had picture of Trisha, the most beautiful Tamil actress, so I smirked at my discovery.

“You look so happy, why is it that you are not at all nervous and look so comfortable even at this hour”, she quizzed. I was struck by her observation, I had a habit of sleeping late, but I was certainly happier than hours before. “I seriously don’t know….Pass!”, I said smiling. “Pass!”, she said giggling and pointed to Mr Sino-Indian who was busy dreaming. I smiled back. “You can sleep at peace, and let me make my bed”, and I laid out the newspapers on the floor. As a student I had traveled long distances even in non-reserved coaches, as well as slept on train's floor, a couple of times before. But, for the lady, it was a filthy and unhygienic act, and she could not say anything. “You didn’t tell me your name, at least I am entitled to know that”, I said, ready to retire.

“So you’re sleeping on floor so that I give you my name and contact details,”, she asked.

“I didn’t ask for your contact details, asked your name just because you know mine, all you girls are the same!”, I said, this time I was really infuriated.

“Ok, now since your problem is solved, you can keep your ‘beloved’ name to yourself and let me rest in peace, Goodnight!”, I said and closed my eyes. There was a slipper just in front of my face and I shoved it inside the seat with force. She saw it and realized that I was angry. But she kept quiet. After a few minutes, she said “Goodnight, Avishek!”, as if trying to tease me again that she knew my name and I didn’t know hers. I heard it but didn’t reply, acted as if I’d slept.

I hardly felt like sleeping, thinking about the turn of events in the last few hours, how I’d almost missed my train, and then how I lost my half-seat. These had been the most eventful hours of my life, without doubt. I tried to evaluate myself if what I’d done was the right thing to do. Almost fifteen minutes would have passed, when I heard a voice, “Avishek !,” I didn’t respond though I wanted to. “Avishekk..,” she called again, this time louder. But I restrained myself. She did a strange thing then. She got up from the seat and came near my feet which were towards her seat. She tapped with her hand on my legs, as if trying to wake me up.

“What happened, so you’ll not allow me to sleep? And you’re not allowed to touch without permission”, I said, without thinking.

“You can call me, Aani, it's a name with which I like to be called, though nobody does!”, she replied.

“It is 2 am already and I am surprised I can’t sleep even with a full seat available to stretch my legs”, she continued.

“I am not an expert for insomnia!”, I replied and thought that even my condition was the same.

“Are you still angry at me?”, she asked.

“No I am not.”, I replied.

“You’re lying!”, she completed my sentence.

“How does it matter to you? All you want is a nice, cosy and comfortable seat for you, which you have got. Now try and get some sleep!”, I said. She kept silent for a while and I closed my eyes.

“I am Ok if you would like to share the seat, I mean, officially its for both of us!”, she said. Her words increased my heart beats.

“Do you know what are you saying?”, I asked.

“Yes, I do, and I said it after all thinking I could do. Everyone here is asleep, and then I don’t care what people think. Somehow, I am not comfortable seeing you sleeping like this.”, her words appeared innocent and honest. I kept quiet. “See. I am convinced, you’re not one of those street-hooligans, or among those who take advantage of girls, so it doesn’t matter to me. And it shouldn’t matter to you, too!,” she kept talking.

“I admire your thoughts, but what will people think when its morning?”

She replied “Don’t worry, I’ll manage that! Even if they notice, you look like my elder brother. So they won’t mind!”

My heartbeats almost stopped “What is she upto?”, I thought. “What did you just say? Why do you have to bind us into a relationship?”, I asked.

“Who is binding you in a relationship? You all guys are the same. When it comes to a relationship, they opt out.”, she was back at her debating best. Girls have a ‘thing’ for debate, they don’t lose the opportunity to debate even at wee hours of midnight, even when they know they’re not going to win.

“I was talking of some other relationship and you’re talking of another, anyway, I am not in a mood to debate, if you’re really Ok with me sharing the seat, I don’t mind.”, I said. She seemed satisfied as if it was a test which we both had passed, and she passed with better marks. “Ok, then come along, and lets adjust. And you’re not allowed to touch……...”, she was saying something when I interrupted,

“That’s my patented dialogue, you can’t use it!”, and she chuckled. I stood up, dusted myself, and shoved the newspapers inside the seats. Aani made a space available so that we both could lie on opposite ends of the seat.

“Are you Ok?”, she asked after lying.

“Yes…until I fall down”, I said jokingly, though that was a definite possibility as I was on the extreme edge side.

“No you wont!, I am not fat like you!”, she replied giggling.

“You’re not slim either”, I quipped. “These are the days of ‘Size zero’ and you are fat by those standards”, I uttered a PJ.

“So you too, admire the size zero concept?”she asked ...

“He he, yes why not, after all the zero was invented in India”. “That’s a PJ”, she laughed...

“Ya, I know, I am naturally good at them”, I replied back.

“So why have you lost your sleep?”, I decided to know what was she thinking.

“I seriously, don’t know! I am surprised at that! What about you? Why are YOU not sleeping ?”, she threw my bullet back at me.

“Isn’t it rude, since you can’t sleep and you have invited me here, it wont look nice”, I lied and she understood it, and giggled. “Actually I’ll fall if I go to sleep”, I said, stating the fact.

“So lets talk until I sleep”, she said.

“Ok, fine with me. I am sure to doze off in the class tomorrow.”, I replied.

“You’re saying as if you don’t normally doze in class”, she teased. I was amused and said

“True!” “But this time you’ll have a good reason behind dozing in class, unlike some boring lectures!”, she went on and on.

“No, the classes are not always boring, the teachers are experts in their fields, and they normally teach well.” Her eyebrows were raised, “Is it? I thought it’s the same everywhere. I study electrical engineering and hardly find any of my classes interesting”

 “I don’t know anything about electrical as I’m from mechanical, but I can definitely say that any subject can become interesting if its taught properly”

"Hmm!,”, she hummed.

“I always wanted to go to IIT, but couldn’t clear the JEE, not even the screening test! My parents were crazy about IIT Madras” she said.

“It doesn’t matter much in the long run”, I said, “What matters more is what you are!” Her face lightened. “Well, contrary to what you think, let me disclose that I’m neither an IITian nor dumb….I earned a BTech from NIT Jalandhar and now I’m pursuing research for my masters at IIT.” She kept quiet for some time and then asked “Where is Jalandhar? I only know about NIT Trichy”

“C’mmon! you should know some geography of your country….Jalandhar is in Punjab, about 2 hrs from Pakistan. Every state has a NIT, and Punjab’s is in Jalandhar”, I replied.

“So you’ve been living near Pakistan?”, she quizzed.

I laughed “It seems you’re going to push me down the seat, since I’m not an IITian and I’ve lived near Pakistan. Please don’t….I’m like you, I too missed it by a mark”. She giggled again. “I’d guessed you’re a northie but you don’t look like a Punjabi”.

“Ha ha!, who said that ? I’m an Indian first and then a Bihari. I was born and brought up there, my parents live in Patna.”

“BIHAR ????”, she almost woke the passengers up again. I couldn’t see her face but I imagined her mouth wide open. We both were silent for more than a minute now, when she spoke. “But your English is so good, and your tone isn’t like that of Biharis ?”,I thanked God that she didn't ask if I knew Lalu Yadav. I replied “You cannot make such general conclusions and prejudices about people just like that! There is a Prof. of English Language at IIT Madras who is a Bihari! It’s not your fault, though, and believe me, even Aishwarya Rai was asked in the US, how she could speak such fine English, being from India!”

“Ohh! so you’re comparing yourself with Aishwarya ?, she retorted teasingly.

“I’m not comparing, it was just an example, its another matter that she used to rule my heart till she married”, I replied, without thought.

“Ohh, ho!, now you’re talking …she married Abhishek, it must’ve hurt!”, she stroked me with her leg.

“Yes, it did...both then and ...now”, I replied.

“Sorry! It was just a reaction.”, she apologized.

“Its Ok! I wont do that to you!” I replied.

“You can hit me back, if you're angry.”

“I won’t, I know it was unintentional, It wont be so if I did it.” At that very instant, she stroked me again. This one was surely intentional! I was certain that she was enticing me to react, but I didn’t.

I couldn’t figure out what she expected. It was then, when it dawned on me that I was just inches close to her, though I didn’t even know her. And she was perhaps less perturbed by it than me. “This is women empowerment!”, I thought and laughed at myself. She didn’t strike me again. I thought she had slept when she asked “So who is the queen of your heart now since Aishwarya ditched you? Is it Katrina?” I wasn’t sure if she was teasing or really wanted to know about me.

“Is it necessary to answer?”, I said.

“Of course....not!", she replied almost instantly.

“Actually, I’m married…….”, I quipped “…..to work”, I finished my sentence before she assumed anything.

“That was a bad joke”, she replied with an angry tone.

“Maybe… I told you before I’m good at PJs”, I said.

“What about you ? How many boyfriends you have ?”, I asked teasingly.

“What do you mean by ‘how many’? What do you think of me?”, it appeared she was going to hit me again.

“Sorry, I should have asked how many you have had…I’ve seen girls changing their boyfriends as frequently as they change clothes”

“What do you mean?”, she sat up.

“Its ok, go back to sleep, and don’t mind… since you’re good-looking.. its impossible that no guy would’ve proposed you”.

“Yes, they did! But I refused.”, she replied.

“Why?” was my instant query.

“Because none of them were genuine. And then I don’t like doing things for which I can’t stand up in front of my parents” she replied..

“Ohh …ok!”, I sighed.

“So you never had any girlfriend? Punjabi girls are the most beautiful, I know that!”, she was back at her tempting best.

“No…Yes… maybe….I don’t know.”, I just mumbled words, confused.

“You’re so….dumbo!”, she said laughing.

“Listen, beauty may attract you, but its not the thing which is required for a relationship. And, it is only temporary. “, I replied what I’ve always felt.

“Then, what is it ?”, she asked immediately.

“I don’t know yet, maybe it’s the comfort you feel, the confidence it gives you, the ability to say something without saying”, I had said everything except the word ‘love’. “Hmm!” was her only response. Girls have a habit of 'humming' when you want them most to speak their mind.

“So you been almost all over India…?”, she tried changing the topic, an intelligent act.
“Yes, and the more I see India, the more I love her!”, I replied.

“I, too want to see the east and the north especially Punjab.”, she wished.

“Yes, you should, Punjab has an exquisite culture! You’ll enjoy the food and the dances - Bhangra and Gidda. Even Tamil Nadu has a great culture, but it’s in stark contrast to Punjab….Ok, now let me tell you something about you”, I retorted raising her curiosity.

“Go ahead, try your luck”, she giggled.
“Ok...You are from Chennai, born and brought up in a Tamil Brahmin family. You are the only daughter of your parents. You wanted to go out of home and learn to be independent, that’s why you went to Bangalore to study engineering, though there are sufficient colleges in Chennai” …I stopped there, thinking too much of guesswork might be fatal.

“You’re a dumbo….!”, was what I could hear, as the train was roaring it's way on a bridge.

By this time I was really sleepy (as it was 3.30 am) so I didn’t persuade her to answer if I was right or not. When sleep takes over me, I forget the entire world. I knew it was only a matter of few hours before we reached Chennai, but somehow I couldn’t control my eyes…she asked something…to which I murmured something and was fast asleep, soon. I had dreams of her…asking me all sorts of questions as if in an interview, with Mr TTE watching us from somewhere like he was spying on us.

I woke up when I heard the train screech to a halt….”Have we reached?”, I asked. “Not yet! Its 7.10 am…Another 10 min”, Mr Sino-Indian replied. Imagine what would it be like to see a Chinese guy when you’re expecting to see a damsel in daylight. I looked around. She wasn’t to be seen anywhere, though some passengers were staring at me, as if I’d committed a grave crime. “Shall I ask about her ? But what shall I ask ? And to whom?”…I hoped everything was fine. I cursed myself for going to sleep. “You have done so many night-outs, what was wrong with another one ?? Such an idiot.” I said to myself. "Be optimistic..she might be around…and will be back before we reach.... but.... what if she didn’t? You fool !…you didn’t even ask for her phone number or at least an email id!”, I murmured.

“What number ??”, Mr Sino-Indian was curious.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t talking to you.”I replied. I was too peeved to talk to anyone and kept quiet !… Was this destiny ??….Was this how those few hours were supposed to end ? The train reached Chennai Central station. Everything seemed dull. I was sleepy, tired, weary, and pained. The coolies rushed in before the train came to a halt. I hurriedly wore my shoes…so that I could get down and catch a glimpse of her somewhere on the platform. But where could I find her among a thousand people. I didn’t even remember what she was wearing. Immediately, I got down and checked the reservation chart stuck on the train coach…..and to my amazement the portion containing her name was torn….! I was shell-shocked. “Why did she do this to me ? I knew her name …and there’s no other relevant information on the chart....Ohh!...maybe she didn’t tell me her correct name ! And that’s why she tore the piece from the chart so that I could never find it out!....Girls are merciless !”, I was dejected. “C’mmon, you were not her lover…not even a friend…! Why’re you crying over spilt milk ?”, immediately my other pragmatic half replied. It's sometimes good to have split personalities !

I came back to institute campus, got fresh and rushed for the class. I thought getting busy in the daily schedule will help me forget it all…. just like a dream. I found myself yawning…the teacher saw me and stared ! I had a notebook open but found it difficult to write. Sleep was taking over me again. I didn’t even remember what was taught in previous class. I turned the pages to find out what it was, when a sheet of paper fell. It looked like a part of my own notebook (some back page). When I picked it up, there it was….written ..in the finest piece of handwriting

“You’re really a dumbo….how could you sleep after ruining my entire sleep ? And then you don’t even care to ask about my contacts…what kind of a guy you are ? And how could you predict so much about me without even knowing me ? This is too much….I need answers to all these questions !!....you have to call me…this is my no. 9444645907” ………...Ananya S

It had conquered my sleep. I wanted to jump on my feet to do a Bhangra step…but somehow controlled myself. I called up immediately after class and said ‘Hello’….when it was answered by a harsh male voice… “Hello ?..Hello ? This is the Swaminathan house..who is it ?”

“Sorry, Wrong no.”, I said and cancelled the line. "So she is Ananya Swaminathan !" I called up again after ten minutes, “Hello..May I talk to Ms Swaminathan ?”

“Who is it ?”, 'twas a female voice. “I’m….my name is……” before I could finish…. she chuckled “Dumbo ? Isn't it ? Still sleepy..huh ? And you know my surname”. It was her.

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 Two years later......

“How is it ? How is the script ?” I asked her. 

“Its fabulous ! You’re going to give Chetan Bhagat a strong competition in future”, she said. 

“Thanks ! I don’t want to ...! …Do you want tea or coffee ??”, I replied. 

“Coffee…!”she said, yawning.. and I went to the kitchen. She stealthily came from behind and punched my back as I poured filter coffee…..and then hugged me saying “Na’an unnai kadhalikaren”... 

“Stop proposing me...I know that much Tamil…..and then you’re already my wife, I’m not going to run away!” 

She punched me hard and ran saying “Don’t even think of that…you were the one who fell for me and proposed me first….” 

“Ha, ha”…I said .. “It was you…you’d proposed first…in Tamil….I didn’t know it then….and then I did... thinking I'm doing it first….” Aani blushed..n ran....
She enjoys teasing me and I enjoy being teased more than anything else !

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All characters in this story  are fictitious and any resemblance to an actual event is purely unintended.