It Takes A Long Time Living

And then someday, when I walk into a room full of strangers, I shall feel your presence and look around. When I find you, I hope you will remember, once we were friends. I hope you would look into my eyes and remember to smile. I always loved your smile.

Someday at a traffic junction with no name, I shall hear a honk and look behind, right into your eyes. And when I see you, I hope you will remember, together, we had traveled once. I hope you will look into my eyes and smile. I always loved your eyes.

Its such a long life!

Rajesh Uncle...Thoda Sa Color

The day before was Holi, the festival of colors. For a civilization ever waiting for a reason to celebrate, Holi is the perfect excuse. It’s a riot, it’s a holler, its insane.

As the day broke, I could hear children from my apartments slowly geting into the Holi mood. There were a lot of climbing up and down the stairs, and then came the shreiks of delight and loads of splashes! I went down to the apartment gates and was immediately welcomed by the Rajesh Uncle thoda color, Rajesh Uncle thoda color (Rajesh uncle, let us put some color on you). I bent my face down to the little ones so that they could reach my face... they applied some red color on my face and as I turned to go back to my flat; they bombed me with little balloons filled with colored water!

Little rascals all, you made my Holi memorable. Thank You.

The Question!

The possibility that this is all there is to life confounds me!

Will Never Have Enough Of You!

Each day that ends brings fears anew. 36 years of you is just ain't enough. I was too young, the first 10 years, too confused for the next twenty. 6 years of you is just ain't enough, 60 would be somewhat right... and then I would want some more.

To the world's greatest dad, for your love and never letting go. I want more. I want 60 more.


Ps. Inspired by ACD's blog on similar lines

Two Tequila Shots and You

Have two shots of Tequila

Down some wine too

And once you are high

Call me from that loose end

of my life,

And blame me

For this alternate Life!

I hate open doors

All my life I have had loved ones walking into the night. Some said they might not come back; some said “we shall meet again when it is time”, and then I had some who said they will be back. 

All my life I have lit candles in dark dreary nights and slept with hurricane lamps when there was storm. In the darkest hours of winter, I have burnt sleep to fuel memories of those who are gone.

I now dread open doors. They confuse me all the more. Of the handful few who squeezed in and stayed behind; I am very worried who might walk out and be gone!

Seeding Storm Clouds

The times these days have an abstract quality to it. It is splattered with shades of Blue Grey and lousy Scarlet. In its stoic hurry, it leaves me behind as it rushes past me. I am not alive; it is some impostor in me who does the living part. I am merely a spectator of myself; I am surprised at the slick screenplay and the picture-perfect speed with which the frames jump queue and impose themselves. I keep checking dates and realizing that I have supposedly lived through days and months that I would not remember!

I think I will soon be running into a storm. It would help my memories. The showers will bring the dead back to life again.