Sometimes....

Games rains play....

Half lit room, a broken mirror...
flashes of lighting chasing growling clouds...

Intoxicating smell of wet earth & perfume from her body...
grasped each other passionately & an exotic fragrance was born...

Rain drops fell to the tune of her anklets...
that chimed in mellifluous chorus,hugging her shapely ankles in joy...

She ran out of her room & let rain soak her through & through...
laden with jewellery & primroses tucked in her hair.

With a letter clutched in her hand, her eyes seeking the horizon hungrily...
she hummed,she laughed,she splashed on puddles like a street urchin.

The wispy thin fabric clung to her curves apologetically,
while men ogled...

Wet and vulnerably young...
men envied the man for whom she danced in the rain...

Must have been waiting for long...
they discussed in murmurs.

Her smouldering eyes looked even more enigmatic...
with kohl dissolving in the rain & running down her face...

Her diamond nose stud sitting pretty on that delicate nose
shone brighter on getting wet...

Blood red dripped down from the parting of her hair...
vermilion that a widow needed no more.

For no one knew she was crying...
rain wiped away her tears...

So it was agony,not ecstasy that the men had witnessed..
the dastardly rains had misguided them all....

The Harem...

Dripping mane…
Mischievous smile lighting those bee stung lips…

Careless beauty…did someone say?
More of a vivacious flame that dances wickedly

Teasing the senses…
Tempting the dormant feelings.

A storm caught in a glass jar
Captured & imprisoned…

Nailed to the wall
And trapped in his love…

Some neatly stacked on shelves in his glass palace,some nailed to the wall.
Stand all the fair maids he once loved,or so he claimed….

Not one,not two…
Not a specific wild flame in particular…

We are talking of an exotic harem here…
Preserved and embalmed.

Room that echoes with stifled cries..
Of love that was promised & never kept.

And he goes about his job with sincerity…
Trapping the impossible….

The bevy of wild manes,caught by his expert hands…
Entangled in his web of love….

And there it stands…
One more new jar to the already pretty collection….

For a taste of eternity from his luscious lips…
They trade their wings for the glass jar

Peekaboo...she said tentatively...

Stirrings within me....I peek out of my self imposed restriction...

Is it safe to put my heart on paper again
and let the drops of blood melt into words?

I think so...yes it is...


Tentative,skeptical steps towards the blog world once more
This is where i belong,where i feel satiated...

But time is a factor...
Too busy building my life from scratch again...

Priorities in life have changed...
But blogger,i shall always remain...

'On a swing'

You can be the ground beneath my feet and I shall be all the ground that you need…(Ground beneath her feet, Rushdie)
And that is exactly what I thought I had read in those earnest eyes .

But look, I am on a swing now and even though you pulled away, I don’t have to worry about falling into a pitless void any more…

There was a time....

.....When u meant the world to me.

She said....

I am sorry folks,I know all of you were waiting eagerly to get till the end of the story but I had to delete the previous 2 posts....I am caught in an emotional turmoil and I cannot breathe life into that story anymore, it had five more parts to it but now the story can go no further ....it had not been my intention to hurt anyone by penning down that story…..

'On second thoughts....'

'Drinking away to glory'....she says...

They drink coz they like to drink.Period.
They work hard the whole week long so mugs of beer bring them respite.
New year celebrations are incomplete without booze…
Who am I to turn judgmental and brand them as drunkards?
Nah…they don’t become bad men only coz they splurge away on liquor…
Am I going to drill sense into them and say its detrimental to health….no way….nor am I going to walk the clichéd path & remind them that it cud have been money well spent had they bought anything except drinks…
Alcoholics Anonymous Associations thrive along the city borders, so there are people who do realize…
Bouts of drinks….animalistic tendencies…sobriety replaced by obscenity….foul language…beating up wives….picking up fights…well, they say it only happens to the so called uneducated masses that drink the country made cheap liquor….

If drinking does add class & finesse then I am all for it….but what about the rash driving, the accidents, the deaths….another example of a classy act? Yeah…yeah…nearly everyone drinks and nothing’s ever happened to them…all these unpleasant things happen to the Others….atleast , I can hope that people do take care and restrain after a bout or two….but who cares to listen to the waves confined to the pages of a blog.

'Derby ride'.....She whispered...

Daddy…I shud have listened to u & come back home for the vacations….all my friends have gone home….like a ghost I haunt the barren hostel corridors…never thought I wud feel so miserable on 25 dec & miss eating cakes …31st december is going to be another lonely day, deserted by friends, cooped up in a pigeon hole….flashes of childhood memories keeping alive the bonfire to make me stay warm …marooned in a cold city…

Was reminded of those derby rides that u took me to….in my winter holidays...it brings a smile on my face when I remember how tightly I used to clutch ur hand , scared that I might get lost in the fair and never see u again….
Round and round in dizzying circles….sitting on an adorable horse and holding on to a pretty golden rod for dear life , swirling in undulating waves…eyes scanning you amidst the milling crowds as my head spun in a tizzy…. .and flashing that toothy smile at you everytime the derby ride brought u in my field of view…I was so much in awe of the silent presence that stood there patiently while I have my share of fun on those fun rides….ummm….life’s been a derby ride too….u’ve stood back and given me enough liberty to make my own choices, get atop and have my share of fun in these derby rides….but at the end of the day, u’ve always wanted to have me running back to u…..
What if daddy, this one time…I don’t want to leave my choice , what if I don’t want to part ways with this horse that I have grown to love…
For I don’t want this derby ride to end….even if u tempt me with offers of other derby rides with better options...will you be disappointed in me for already making up my mind that I don’t want to have a go at a derby ride on 19 Jan?

Life is rushing by...She realized...

Out of breath....can't keep pace....life is rushing by, far too fast.

Some more facts about me...She said...

Here are the remaining facts about me...

11)Being kissed on the forehead ….thats the most endearing expression of love…


12)Luv the star splashed nite sky….can spend hours laying on my back on the terrace, gazing at the shimmering dots sprinkled lavishly across the thick blanket of the midnight blue sky. My imagination runs wild on such star gazing nights and beautiful thoughts run through my mind….millions of beautiful snapshots….fragments of poetry that form in my mind….wish I cud replace the backdrop of the terrace with a gorgeous beach


13) Since childhood, I’ve had this crazy thing abt writing looong letters to God, telling him all about my life….and when I feel stronger, I tear those letters and leave behind no traces of the secret correspondence between us….


14)Its worth watching daddy dear’s disgusted facial expression whenever I pick up Fluff in my arms and give her a kiss on her wet nose….she is absolutely irresistible when she wakes up from a nap…all groggy eyed…a cute yawning mouth…a butter-won’t-melt-in-your-mouth kinda look on her adorable face….


15) There was a time when I wanted to become a jet-setting travel writer. I’ve always fantasized about exploring the exotic places, tasting their cuisine and as a travel writer,I wudnt even have had to pay for it!Like a carefree bubble...i cud have drifted from one end of the sky to another,from shore to shore,jungle to jungle.
But such a nomadic existence cudnt have brought me any stability in my already chaotic life…


16) Plan to quit the religion I was born with….have never felt at home being a Hindu…never understood idol worship, never realized why a Brahmin considers himself better than a Dalit, I’v always loathed the fuc**ing caste system, never understood why ‘we’ have so many festivals throughout the year, never connected with the ‘richness’ of ‘our’ religion,never understood why we need pandits to solemnize marriage ceremonies or why in case of important events we need to communicate with God via these people who are blessed to be born in a privileged caste.


17) I’ve always wanted to apologize to my parents for not being able to match up to them. Dad is a brilliant mathematician and if mom’s family hadn’t held her back, Today, she cud have been a top notch CEO ruling the corporate world, what with her sharp analytical mind & amazing leadership skills. While I’v always been lousy in maths & yeah have none of mom’s smashing talents. They say the next generation catches up fast & moves 3 steps ahead….i underwent regression….forget, leaping 3 steps ahead, I’ve not even been able to catch up with ‘em. Sorry mom, sorry dad.



18) Would love to have a pair of mischievous twins of my own…someday. I’v always been the obedient,toeing-the-line-everytime-mama-said-anything kinda girls, never bunked college to watch movies,never cheated in exams in skool,never lied to anyone,never disobeyed,rarely ever kept any secrets from my folks……For a change,I wud love to have real brats of my own and experience a more rough childhood…mine was too perfect…


19)Want to leave behind footfprints on the hearts of those whose paths crossed mine…I want people to remember me even after my last performance….long after I have bowed out of the stage….Reminds me of an old song which goes-‘The grass is green & the rose is red, remember me till I am dead…dead…dead…”


20)There are those who have always wanted to see what I look like….after having read my write ups…it’s been like that since my school days, since the time I’ve written anonymously on various forums…..is it that important? Does it matter if I have a perfectly sculpted oval face?
I fail to fathom why people love it more if it’s a pretty face that writes…what if I am one such face, pretty to look at ….or what if I am not….nah, beauty is ephemeral…..fleeting….skin deep…not worth running after it....

'20 random facts about Me'...She said

Here's my take at trying to put down 20 random facts about myself that would maybe define me to a certain extent.

1)I am my Daddy's girl….here's blowing u a kiss daddy!



2)If I were to live my life again, I wud choose to be an albatross -spread my wings and fly over the ocean. It's the only one in the Kingdom of Animals that mates for life. Invests in a romantic 7 years of courtship and settles down with its mate. Their love is for keeps. They are not used to the concept of multiple partners. Incase, an albatross dies….its mate doesn't survive long.



3)I've always wished for a friend like Barney, the stead fast friend of Laura in Doctors (Eric Segal). Like a rock of Gibraltor, he stood by her…thru thick and thin. Wonder if men can really be such good friends .…ever….Can they?

4)A movie I can watch over & over again->Vanilla Sky, itz my fav & close to my heart.
Maybe coz David(Tom) is unable to win his true love….that strikes a chord with me or maybe it is the way, guilt haunts him all his life for the shabby way he treated the other girl in his life, Julie(Cameron Diaz) who was truly in love with him.
But the best part of the movie…is the last 15 mins when the dreams end and reality takes over, when the surreal abrupts bursts into ur face and u step out of the twilight zone.... once the psychologist played by Kurt Russell starts analyzing David…there are metaphors sprinkled all over...in the movie…itz a thinking man’s movie…it makes u brood…it makes u think & it makes ur heart ache for David when he realizes that the moments spent with Sophia were all an illusion…..that she was never his and yet in the end when she says ‘ You were missed’….it makes u wonder, did she harbour any feelings for him, after all?.But the line that I remember most is where the other girl realizes he’s in luv with someone else and says something to the effect of ‘we’ll meet in our next lifetime, as cats’….



5)I love the sea…I hate the mountains. The way the sea tosses its mighty head arrogantly, rushes into the inviting arms of the beaches and retreats reluctantly to the call of the mermaids that want it back home. I love the way the sea makes love to the beaches, those rumbling sounds of love making when the sea caresses the beaches, fondling it with a mischievous glint in its eye…..
In contrast, the mountains frown at me, rooted at a spot for centuries...with secrets embedded in its bowels and give me an intimidating look everytime my folks drag me to the mountains!!


6)Someday I plan to settle down in the City of dreams….it's not going to be before 2009 but then Mumbai can wait till then.

7)Once there, I would get a chance to fulfill my promise of doing that little bit for Tata Memorial Cancer Institute every now and then. It's going to be pay back time….

8)I can die for Chocolate cakes…umm,there was a time when I was crazy about it….dunno if I am still that way…but then, back then, I was mad about a lot of things…

9)Lines that I would love to hear someday….’Grow old with me, the best is yet to be’…



10)There are those who were distressed when they heard I want to quit blogging….so I decided to stay back…

PS- damn these class tests! 10 more facts to go…wait till the next post.

The child within me peeps out....

And wonders if quitting writing forever would bring any respite....or is it a coward's way out? an escapist's swan song?

The Stiletto girl...

I slipped my feet into those pretty stilettos, bathed in blushing lilac…..they had been gathering cobwebs for long. I dusted away the musty webs...dusted away a lot of memories.
Tied the lavender strings emerging from the rear end of the stilettos in a fashionable criss cross…they caressesed and climbed up to a quarter of my legs….slender legs(?). My feet nestled itself in the familiar curves of the stiletto, with the shapely toes and fingers painted a chocolatey maroon , plunging neck down while the arrogant ankle maintained its composure at a dignified height…elevated by the haughty heels.
I took off my anklets….stilettos and anklets have never gelled well together.
Tugged at the strings of my wrap around skirt, held against my waist….and let it fall….too long! That ebony and ivory shaded wrap around skirt which lapped my ankles mischievously…managed to ruin the beauty of my stilettos by hiding the criss crossing lavender roman strings that clung to my legs rather shamelessly.
Picked up a delicate smoky grey skirt, trespassed by mauve colored dainty fleurs…the skirt stopped short at my knees….a field day for my stilettos….without any modesty, the stilettos flaunted themselves…..oozed dollops of sensuality….a feeling that was quite contagious…
With an extra inch adding itself to my 5’4’’ frame, I gained an elegant doe like delicate and sophisticated walk…it felt sexy….it felt innocently refreshing…it reminded me of my childhood days when we stole mom’s stilettos and walked clumsily with our tiny feet swimming in the oversized high heels.
As we grew older, the hankering for stilettos persisted and the prettiest of the lot- who else but my sister, would step into mom’s exotically beautiful midnight blue stilettos, two sizes too big for her and sashay down the gallery in our house and feel regal !
A few days back, I saw a girl with beautiful big eyes, housed in a perfectly oval face… walking down the stairs….she wasn’t able to keep pace…..stilettos look alluring but not much fun to walk around too long….lucky for her, her guy picked her up in his arms lovingly and carried her downstairs. Dunno why is it but guys pamper their girls a lot when they wear stilettos…trust me!
Ah! But I didn’t wear stilettos to lasso men or seduce them….i wore them a last time and then gave them away…..
Who wants to keep reminders that beckon you to take a trip in the past…only the criss cross pattern of the Roman strings remained etched deep on my legs after I’d got rid of the stilettos…..hungrily, the strings had dug into the soft, smooth olive skin and left behind love bites….
But then , neither do love bites remain on one’s skin forever….

Suicide...She wrote...

1 pm....lunchbreak...had nowhere to go...no money...canteen was meant for those with a full pocket or atleast a half filled one...i settled down on the flight of stairs that led to my Dept...an empty stomach & a rigorous class at 2pm...that was enuf to drive me up the wall.
A girl came up & asked me the way to the Botany Dept,i barely looked at her & mumbled out the instructions...probably she was feeling hungry too...asked me if she could sit down next to me & have her food sitting next to me. I shrugged...she sat down gratefully.
We sat side by side...like two mannequins...no conversation...nothing...i was feeling too hungry to talk & she felt awkward eating her tiffin after i refused her offer.
Finally, i asked her what brought her to my campus....An AIIMS post graduate in Biochemistry...she wanted a Ph.D...fast,real fast...i don't remember when the conversation turned to the topic of suicide but i got to hear so many real life accounts from her, that i've lost count....she had been staying in the AIIMS hostel along with young aspiring doctors since her graduation & post grad days at AIIMS.
Sordid tales....suicide notes written by brilliant students...end of a life...candles that blew out prematurely…
The one that chilled me to the bones, was that of a post grad student from AIIMS who went on to National Institute of Immunology, for his Ph.D He had been her friend but had been depressed for quite some time coz his girl had left him for someone else.

Half my mind was elsewhere- delving deep into the dark alleys of my recuperating heart where tiny scrolls of secrets lay embedded like treasure chests on an ocean bed. But the girl sitting next to me said something that jerked me out of my stupor. In sharp contrast to my earlier listless, barely interested demeanor-I turned my full attention to her...oh my god! She hadn’t realized she had switched tracks from a third person narrative to a first person narrative....earlier, she had been saying...’he shudn’t have taken such a drastic step and ended his life by consuming that lethal chemical from his laboratory to ‘ Life can get frustrating but I should resist such a temptation’....a slip of a tongue ...but the raw feeling was written all over her carefully chosen words and I felt a shiver run down my spine as i realized i was face to face with a potential target who was trying to come to terms with her decision of taking the drastic step.
Her next words confirmed my suspicion, she said ‘ if he could have met someone at that crucial juncture, who could have talked him out of it...maybe he would have been alive today’..
She’s asking for help...no, she is begging me to talk her out of her suicidal tendencies...she’s picked up a random stranger like me to counsel and help her out...i’ve got to soothe her...wait, i’ve got to stay calm myself coz my heart is hammering real hard and my hands are shaking a bit coz i know what it feels like when u feel suicidal....‘

Hey’, i say to her and ...i cough a bit...to mask the nervous tone, steady myself and broach the topic of my childhood, transport her to those sunny days of my life that were full of laughter and naive innocence....i encourage her to open up...gently...coax her to uncoil her complex self ....i congratulate myself secretly....she took a bite of the bait i dangled in front of her...and now she’s hooked! I exposed a slice of my childhood, to enable her to speak about hers & thankfully the plan worked.
I cajole her...to go on, to speak up ...i keep my restless nature under wraps and turn into a good listener...we talk for hours…i pretend I don’t know what is going on in her mind, she has a satisfied look on her face, content that she has fooled me…lulled me into a false illusion….i let her play along…but under that thin veneer ….my mind is working furiously, against time….trying to think of the right things to say to avoid aggravating her…I can almost picturize her standing at the edge of a cliff, while the waves surge beneath….and i desperately want to pull her back

A beautiful sensation…the free fall down such a great height….almost flying…the sea gulls can join in too….the waves hungrily look up…waiting to devour the body….

The mellow afternoon hours sheds her glaringly canary yellow off-shoulder dress and dons a sensual dusky evening gown, somewhere nearby, my batchmates are attending their lectures ….a seat remains unfilled in that class coz I am sitting outside, trying to save a soul that’s sent me an S.O.S …Not everyday, do u get a chance to save a life…..we talk about a lot of things....they lie locked within me...maybe someday i shall write about it...

I see a change in her eyes, a steely resolution….


I watch her standing near the cliff edge…contemplating….the waves part and pebbles stare back at her…she turns her back towards death and walks away…

Clutching to a piece of my childhood...

Fake emotions...fake smiles...fake tears...fake people all around me...
I Feel like throwing up...i feel nauseated...i feel sick to my gut...somehow my system hasn't learnt to digest the fakeness that abounds in this world.
Why do i see everyone wearing a mask?happy masks...charming masks...sexy masks...vulnerable masks...guileless masks...seductive masks..
I feel i am caught in an endless evening party where the dress code is wearing masks of one's own choice...& the catch is- the evening never ends.
The party goes on & on....
Champagne flows...false talk keeps pace with it..i feel lost....suddenly it's time for the waltz.Men in masks approach women in masks....and beg for a dance.i refuse them...men with masks make clumsy dance partners, i remind myself.
Someone smiles at me...a deep dimpled smile...why am i attracted to him?Ah! a naked face...just like mine.A face sans a mask...
My hearts warms upto to him....he wraps his hand around my waist, pulls me close...too close(?)...fingers entwine...music fills up the Ball room....i tell him i dont trust people who hide behind masks...he looks deep into my eyes questioningly...nah! i assure him that i trust him....he isn't wearing a mask...an enigmatic smile crosses his lips....i feel lucky....i pity the women with masked dance partners...i tell him i loathe hypocrites...he says he loathes them too...i tell him i hate charmers, those glib talkers who talk smoothly but whose words stand hollow...smoothly he twirls me, i catch my breath when i realize he's bent halfway,staring at my face,dipping me over his arm... i am bent with my head thrown back...my back arched flexibly...i wait for his answer...but the lascivious music picks up & i get engrossed matching his step with mine...caught in swirling skirts & stiletto footsteps.He begged me to have faith on him...i did...i closed my eyes,put my head on his shoulder & danced...a content smile sitting pretty on those bow shaped lips.I didn't have to feel insecure anymore...

I dont remember how long i had been dancing with him...was it two years? was it a little more...pale beams of sunlight caressed his face & for the first time i noticed cracks on his face...on his honesty(?)...i watched in horror at the peeling mask....the enormity of the falsehood hit me not in a single blow but bit by bit...inch by inch...i was being killed slowly, softly...
Another masked man? my heart gasped...but dont masks hide everything except the eyes?and i had his every feature etched on my mind...his cleft chin...his square jaw...his nose...
Oh my god!My stomach churned...my body turned stone cold...i had been dancing with a masked man all along...with trembling fingers, i ripped the mask off his face...it was a face sans any eyes, sans any mouth, sans any nose...it was a face devoid of emotions,devoid of love, devoid of honesty....just like those millions of masked men who traded in flesh...not love.Who understand a French Kiss but not feelings.
A waltz of hypocrasy rather than a waltz of love....a waltz of fakeness?

It tears at my heart...the sham...the falsehood...i feel lonely...do i stand out like a sore thumb with my naked face in a sea of masks?
It reminds me of my childhood when i used to clutch my doll & hug it close...to seek comfort...if people used to let me down...or if i did something naughty...that doll went with me everywhere i travelled.
Wish i had that doll with me now....so that i could clutch that piece of chilhood close to my heart, that stretch of dream run of a lifetime that every adult looks back wistfully, that unmarred,unspoilt childhood...and close my eyes....and feel comforted...feel healed...

'A dash of Sindoor'...She said..

Celebrations are finally over…Dashami(tenth day) saw the immersion of Durga into the Ganges.
Transported back to a normal life…last week was spent romancing the Bengali culture that probably runs deeper in my veins than I had ever imagined.
Sound of conch shells emanating from neighbourhood houses….pandal hopping with friends….marvelling at the skill of men who built pandals to house Durga…each pandal was a work of art…..there was a spectacular pandal shaped like a huge rocket, towering like a Goliath, I went in & the angelic beauty of the idols made me regret for not having brought along a camera …long queues snaked through the streets in front of restaurants & the city was again a witness to the fact that Bengalis love eating……nearly all the apartments were decked up like Christmas trees, decorated beautifully with fairy lights, multihued tube lights…the city that dozes off by ten in the night, seemed to come alive as the clock announced midnight for those magical few days of Saptami(seventh day), Ashtami(eight day),Navami(ninth) & Dashami…couples walked hand in hand, the only few days when girls are officially allowed to stay out of home till late in the night…..if the nights were full of lights, traveling from one part of the city to the next on a quest to spot the best pandals…..the days were spent paying a visit to relatives, hanging out with cousins, discussing about the ‘new’ man in a certain pretty cousin’s life….eagerly running off to the pandals to catch the ceremonies being performed in front of Durga,eating at the community halls where the ‘Bhog’ was distributed to all the neighbours, it was more of a socializing that takes place between nieghbours at this time of the year where they hob-nob & catch up with each others lives.


One of the landmark celebrations on the last day ……watching married women play the Sindoor Khela- smearing sindoor on each others forehead, while the young unmarried girls smiled coyly when the married women applied a dash on sindoor on their cheeks & told them not to wipe it off…an auspicious sign that it would fetch them a good husband in the future.
I stood in a corner, touching the sindoor smear on my cheek….a damp wistful feeling settled itself comfortably in my heart…..someone somewhere walked across the shores of the Arabian Sea, oblivious of the dash of sindoor across a certain honey coloured oval face….

'The city I call Home'....She said..

Back to where I was supposed to have taken those first baby steps….back to that city which has witnessed all those tumultuous years of my growing up days…back to being driven from the Howrah bridge to a place called home…

Was is another lifetime when coming back home made my heart beat faster? Where has that child like exuberance evaporated? Those hand pulled rickshaws, those trams that moved slowly at its own pace while luxury cars whizzed by…why do they no more conjure up any old world charm for me? My eyes drifted from the angel atop the Victoria Memorial & the horse driven carriages full of tourists…to the billboard featuring a petal shaped sensually full lips on a glowing dusky skin that had the texture of velvet , a demure yet subtle wild smile playfully lighting the face that looked ravagable , her vermillion red round bindi smeared on her forehead gave her the typical Bengali touch….draped in a simple white saree with red border offset by an opulent rich maroon blouse with slightly puffed sleeves…reminiscent of the bygone dress code of the bahus of the Bengali Zamindar clans…Her oval face complemented her slantish doe eyed big eyes…kohl lined eyes….drownable eyes…but then, Bengali women have been notorious for these very eyes that have trapped many an unsuspecting man…vaguely, past memories stirred…grandma’s stories…of men from far away lands who fell in love with Bengali women after setting eyes on them, women so elusive that they slipped out of the fingers of their suitors & played the ‘hard-to-get’ game to the hilt …Bengali women who were known for the Black magic spell that they wove on men, …men who swore they’d never touched skin softer than a Bengali woman, like the wings of a butterfly.…skin that glowed with raw sensuality…
I touched my skin & realized that the Delhi sun had done irreparable damage to my once flawless glowing skin passed on from generations like a legacy….reminded me of the first time He’d touched my face on the pretext of getting rid of a mosquito coz He’d never seen such skin…and now what remained was a skin devoid of a good diet…but did it matter any more?
My eyes riveted to the fish mongers sitting by the sides of the road, while men in white dhotis noisily bargained. The taste of prawns dipped in coconut cream …hilsa in a rich tomato curry….fried pomfret….tiny fishes as surprise finds in dal…kaleidoscopic images floated in my mind.
Multitude of sweet shops stood silently punctuating the humid city like exclamation marks at regular intervals….childhood memories of me clutching dad’s hand & walking to the nearest sweetshop & buying my favourite sandesh mixed with jaggery, shaped like a sea shell & rajbhog dripping in a syrup. Spongy rosogollas that told sweet tales of its own…

Avoided looking at the strikingly palatial building where He used to work, the fountain at the entrance of His workplace wasn’t working, a metaphor for his love that had dried out ….but somehow the treacherous tears sprang up unexpectedly while I traveled on the familiar roads….ghost bike rode parallel to dad’s car & I looked in disbelief at myself sitting behind Him on his Pulsar….Misty eyes clouded by saline waters was watching the past unfurl…like an old movie being replayed…
I turned away my face & concentrated on the bamboo sticks & tents being put up in street corners as pandals for the impending Durga Puja…tube lights & bulbs of different shapes & sizes were being arranged in amazingly beautiful ways…some resembled the silhouette of Saurav Ganguli, the most loved ‘son’ of Calcutta…some resembled the Titanic…some resembled Charlie Chaplin & suddenly I caught a glimpse of a girl clad in a mermaid skirt teamed with a peasant top & a guy in a Red kurta teamed with jeans walking on the pavement, she hit him playfully with her thick book & He snatched it away…she stopped walking & stamped her feet like a spoilt kid & demanded the book being returned, her lips pouting alluringly ….wait, this scene felt familiar…was it bcoz they were dressed in an uncanny same way as Us…or was it the way ….a closer look at the guy made my heart skip a beat, in desperation I looked at the new girl & felt I was looking at a mirror…realization dawned….i was hallucinating.
Quickly blinked back the traitors & realized that I shoudn’t have come back to a city that didnot spare a minute in taunting me with His presence…
And for heaven’s sake, He’d quit this city long back….then why did I see Him standing under the 13 No. Tank landmark patiently near his bike….why did I see Him walk out of that plush shopping mall….why did I see Him step out of the Inox movie hall…why did I see Him step into the Oxford Bookstore…

I was not prepared for such an onslaught…..never realized He would ruin my own city for me, the city that I am so fond of inspite of the highhandedness of the Left govt , trade unions, Marxism & incessant strikes. The city that opened up its bounty of a treasure chest full of rich literature & famous writers ….the city that made me fall in love with books that became a part of my existence…the city whose culture ingrained itself in me.... the city that acknowledged the writer in me…and yet ….

Feeling chewy....

Dear fluff,
I am finally coming home…yeah you heard me right, on the 1st of October, have already packed my bags…but promise me you won’t knock me off my feet & cover my full face with your wet licks…buddy, that’s not how you behave with a lady! Remember?
Of course, I’ll always be that ten year old girl who brought you home as a pup from a different town. And don’t you sulk for my past refusals to come home for the past nine months ….coz I am going to compensate such a long absence by staying home for 15 long days.

Mmmm…those good ol’ days when u’d run off with our shoes, and sis & me in hot pursuit would run after you from room to room….till we’d locate a pair of emerald beads shining with a mischievous phosphorescent glint, under the darkness of a bed & before we’d be able to catch you…u’d dash off under a coffee table….i still marvel at the way u’d dodge us so expertly.
Wonder what was it with u & branded shoes(so, we had a pet who was a snob! Unbranded shoes never managed to elicit any reaction)….while the branded ones always got a ‘warm welcome’ from u….coz by the time sis managed to tempt you out of your hiding place with a promise of a biscuit(yeah! branded biscuits again, especially those laced with lots of choco chips) & I scooped down on you with a war cry of ‘Gotcha’…u’d nearly slip out of my clutches but for your tail. Somehow I’d drag the well chewed soggy shoe out of those devilish canine teeth of yours & not to mention mom, who’d have a fit when she’d see a saliva dripping & a wee bit ‘dog eared’ shoe…

Ummm…this might sound a bit strange but looks like your chewy habit has been passed off to me as well…maybe coz I am in a mellow mood (playful mood ?).

Feeling kinda chewy…a bit wild…a bit feral…a bit seductive…a bit naughty…