A WHORE OF THE MIND

September 13, 2006

On cool moon-lit nights, as I would walk towards home from tuitions, clutching my books, with the breeze playing with my dupatta, “a spring in every step, a song on my lips”, the feeling in my heart was overwhelmingly inexplicable. Smiling to myself, recollecting the beautiful moments I had spent with him during the day, and piling up dreams during the night, my 16years of existence seemed to be moving towards a beautiful new beginning. What did I love best about him? His wit? Humour? Warmth? Or simply the way he made me feel whenever I was with him? Probably there is no answer to this question. All that mattered to me was that I had found the one with whom I wanted to spend all my life, all my seven lives and life beyond that as well.

Four years, and my love for him was only growing stronger. So dazzled and blinded by love, I spent my hours capturing all the words he had uttered to me every single day of my life, jotting down all his messages and seizing every single opportunity to message him and hear from him.

I adored the way he would gaze deeply into my eyes and say, “Smriti, you are beautiful!” I’d smile… hoping he would utter those three magical words… seconds would pass like eons and images of my head resting on his shoulders would strike my eyes… "Oh God! Please stop making me dream so much…!", I would tell myself... "Take a deep breath babe, pull his leg for a while before reciprocating his love"… but I could never keep my heart beat in check… "C’mon dude… Propose propose propose… four years is a lot of time!"…

He did infact utter those three magical words… in front of my eyes… but… not to me… and never will he, to me…

My world came crashing down… there was nothing to look forward to… I was treading on my shattered pile of dreams… bleeding… but numb…

It was precisely then “B” entered my life…

He went on to become my best buddy. We shared similar interests- science and philosophy. Hours would fly by whenever I was with him and he was the perfect medicine to my broken heart…

“Hmm… Smriti… what do you think, is love and friendship a reversible chemical reaction?” We were in church then and it was raining heavily outside… I guess he always knew my reply… I shook my head… “Love is like a one-way stream… it is disaster when you ride against the current…” He did not buy my answer. He did not want to.

“I am leaving Bangalore, but I will persist", he said. "Why must I let go of you?”, those words troubled me. Within a few days, I said yes to him. “Right decision?”, I don’t know…

The relationship was getting strained. After a year, we were just two individuals trying to make things work… the feeling had sunk in… “He is not the one… he can never be the one”… I tried to pull myself out of the web… B did not want to give up… and would never…

“In love? Or out of love?”, it was at this juncture, I was introduced to “K”…

"Just a crush Smriti… just… a… crush"… I muttered to myself, as I laid down my head onto my hard pillow, watching the drape sway in the air, gently being caressed by the breeze… it rested awhile… and then another breeze swept it off the floor…

“You whore”, I screamed at the drape… and I painfully watched it echo the words in my direction…

E T E R N A L F R E E D O M

August 2005

We all loved him.. his virtues... his mannerisms... above all.. his stories abt the freedom struggle.. he was a History of Modern India textbook... right from the establishment of the East India Company to the riots of 1947, he knew them all... he lived through some of them... re-lived the same during the last ten years of his life.. that was my granpa...

we six cousins would huddle up beside him vying for his lap most of the time.. n he would begin his narration with an air of a kshathriya... his booming loud voice would fill the room leaving us in awe.. stories of the quit India movement that he actively took part in as a teenager would be followed by exhibiting before us a few sepia toned photographs taken with netaji subash chandra bose by his side...

towards the end of his narration, there would be a tinge of melancholy in his voice... it would turn fragile and quiver with age.. in his words, "those days used to be beautiful.. life was simple... life had a purpose... n the joy Indians wore in their hearts when we got freedom is so inexplicable... i wish i could go back in time and live those moments.. this nostalgia... this nostalgia... it pains.. it hurts... either i should live only this present... or turn back time to the 1940s...."

eventually... his wish did come true, a year after granma passed away... he started leading a reclusive life.. detached emotionally from his family and mentally from the world outside him.. he would walk within the four walls of his room, muttering incessantly and incoherently, "Indian National Army.. Burma... Delhi Chalo..." the doctors had given up hope of curing him, old-age, they said...

at this juncture, i was admitted to a boarding school in ootacamund.. in the 3-minute phone conversation dat i would have with my parents, they would brief me on my cousins... who broke his arm and who sprained her ankle..! towards the end, they would add... "granpa... granpa is jus the same....."

but that day.... the call was for a different reason.... granpa had expired... "he died in his sleep", my dad told me... "come home soon"..

tears flooded my eyes and my heart felt like it would rip any second of grief.. i rushed home to see him lying on the floor... lifeless.... yet peaceful...

i heard amma say, "he struggled for ten years... delusions and hallucinations.. finally god has set him free..."

"no amma", i said, unable to contain myself, "god set him free ten years back... granpa lived within the four walls of his room, but in his thoughts he travelled to distant lands that his physical body could not take him to.. every second of those ten years he re-lived the moment that he cherished the most in his life... the first taste of freedom.. the first taste of free India... even when he was alive, he conquered both space.. and time.... though his reflective consciousness failed him, he could not have been a happier man......... we'll all miss granpa..... but the sound of his voice... will continue to linger in our hearts...."

RENAISSANCE

2004

yeah.. yeah... it was that awful monday mornin' again... why didn't God create Tuesday after Sunday... anywayz... was greeted by my noisy neighbour's heavy metal music... to add to my woes.. was this fuse... trippin' the entire electrical activity of my bathroom.... then was the wall clock which gave haath... with less than 5 minutes for the college bus... was weighin' between my contact lens n breakfast... can live without a meal... but can't go to college with harry potter glasses... (damsels would definitely agree).. in that haste... dropped the contacts... major lenshunt was organised under the able leadership of me... my bro evidently found it... dust-laden... fixed it into my eyes.. finally hit the road... when the bus jus' whizzed past me... a 100m marathon pursuit... (million thanks to maurice greene for trainin' me..) with plenty of yellz... (courtesy... metallica n guns n roses) made it into that coughin' sardine tin only to find my buddy's lap free... the rest of the journey proceeded with bud's sneezes.. (type: spray...frequency: 100 a minute)... wondered if a combination of head n shoulders n sunsilk was enough to clean my hair..

was late for the first hour... lecturers sure work on german standard time... class received a discipline sermon... jus' when i felt i was beginnin' to sync with the time table... came the physics practicals... demonstrator was mournin' over the obituary of common sense with our generation... close on heels came industriousness n time management... flurry of harsh, cruel n cold vocabularies from the english dictionary followed... didn't take us much time in givin' her the terror nickname... phew... it was all over in 3 hrs!

durin' the break was a programme in the audi... a 45minute documentary by help age india... focus was on senior citizens n oldage homes... a personal awakenin'... they didn't want money... but loads of love... a good companion to drive away loneliness n boredom... they want to age beautifully n not in insecurity... they didn't feel appreciated by their sons n daughters... these lines still linger... "a year gone by... a year closer to the grave.." in front of their difficulties... ours seem so lame.... a few of us 've decided to pay them a visit n probably entertain them too...

while thinkin' on those terms a sudden gush of emotions gripped me... i've never thanked my bro for helpin' me out in times of difficulty... for puttin' up with me all these years... i've never thanked my parents for being there by my side... for everythin' they've given me... i've never thanked my buddies who've been my agony aunts n uncles solvin' teen troubles... why.. not even my lecturers who've made me the person i am... their never endin' advice though bitter to my ears have made me a better sensitive human being...

returned home n my mom greeted me at the door.. how was ur day..??? couldn't help but hug her n say... perfect ma... jus' perfect...

a special thanks to all the grandmas n grandpas for makin' me realize that love in any form shouldn't be taken for granted....

SHORT OF BREA(d)TH...

hey litter-ers....

welcome to my junk yard..! have fun reading my wafflings... pop-philosophies... short stories.... musings... and... my million misadventures... ..!!! :)

*Cheers*