THE CHIRPY COMPANIONS

The four tall swaying trees outside my compound,

their branches thick and tall plush with green dense leaves,

greet every passerby from dawn to dusk.

They bear no flower; they bear no fruit,

neither ask for appreciation; nor claim affection,

yet provide home to every feathered friend.

Their tweets and trills arouse me from night slumber;

the blowing winds carrying the sprightly sounds to my bedroom;

aid in dusting off the remaining groggy bone.

Bystanders crane their necks cheer at its very sight

the rustling leaves; the frolicsome  cheeping,

Gratifying the senses of leisurely strollers.

The columnar thicket recognizing no discrimination;

Offering an abode to birds of every colour and hue.

Time we learn a lesson  from the chirpy companions and the lofty trees.

Persons of every shade and tone invade our houses on the zoom,

Yet, do we offer a place to every pigmentation, size and faith

in our hearts and homes without prejudices?

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     

A MILD TREMOR

 What thoughts fill my mind at this moment? The news of work filling up empty spaces in my day from tomorrow,  does it hearten me or wear me down? Just when my thoughts learned to assemble, like ashes strewn over Ganges, they are being scattered away, particles which I might have to pick in every room I traverse.

Will I even have the time to pick them or shall I sweep them under the upholstery, so that they remain obscured from my vision. A day may come when I will have the leisure to ponder over them or visit them, but now their insignificance pleases my soul.

Work may fill me to the brim, but I will still cast around  for void here and there to beckon me into its arms, its the quietude which I have not indulged earlier. Hence, it flirts seductively, and I fall a prey to it. In reality, emptied silences satiate my senses rather than the finest of presents and gifts  which failed to quench my thirst. It's a realization, I have had time and again, but randomly filled my hollowness  with gibberish and muted the voice of beckoning tranquility.

Cliched utterances of "new beginning, be optimistic, you can do it" sound stale and shallow. The creased eyebrows, thoughts cloaked in worries, automated responses will creep in though unwanted, pick them and cast them aside, or  lock them in dungeons below, so that their cries may never be heard above. 

Attempt appeasing them and they cling like flies on dead, sucking till their appetite are whet. Should we as mankind be held accountable for assuaging them since days of Adam and Eve, for mankind today enjoys the touch, the look, the clasp of  new found bed partner, or feel a sense of anguish, for detecting emptiness, we identify ourselves with the marooned sailor and grope in fabricated darkness of ennui.

THE CLOUDBURST

 Leave me with a peace of mind,

and I will offer you pages of me.

Just don't stir the tranquil,

I  will loose myself again.

A decade has passed,

papers filled and torn; 

Lest it fancies someone's eye.

Thoughts told and retold,

 A myriad of emotions; 

escaped on  countless sheets,

now untraceable in recyclable bins.

This time it's the keyboard clicking,

screen after screen offering endless space.

Words tumble and fall,

parking themselves in the right places.

Now the only  outward fear,

will every reflection of mine make sense?

The keyboard  leaves its impressions on white,

with words craving for gratification.

Or will I enter an unending lull?

The idea petrifies me.

Or will I be mulling forever?

For methodical occurrences of trivia,

and chide the habitat around.

My gaze arrested, 

by the white petunias on the window sill.

A smile escapes my lips,

It's a thoroughfare,

Which I wish to frequent;

Every now and then.

CHAT WITH A THOUGHT IN THE MARATHON MIND

Why do you feel the need to be blanketed always? Do you feel disrobed when alone? The mind races likes a marathon, every single thought scared to tiptoe alone, accompanied by a hurricane of thoughts.  The agony of a hurricane will batter you. Its all right to be blinkered, emptiness maybe a beautiful confidant. 

Do you feel like the new born out of a mother's womb? Inundated in the deluge of strange hands, some warm, some cold, you will loose your persona. Would you be happy to loose your identity, forget the reason why you emerged? Am I being harsh to you? The discomfort, the bleeding, the pain, the fear are bullying you. Half a century of mixed dominance needs a standstill pause. Their tyranny has created a havoc. 

Your purity lies in leaving the 270 days old water of blood and sweat to be flushed. Fifty years is a long time, the umbilical chord needs to be cut, the wails, the screams, the racing heartbeats will ebb. I am not promising you the gurgles and toothless grins. The daily nagging pains, the turmoil's, the endless suspicions won't leave you. Nudge yourself, you don't need to stand out and prove you are unique, but your birth matters to me. I hate to see you drowning. Survive till you reach the shore. 

I see you at times, I hear the bell and I open the door , but there are scary strangers by your side, my door hesitates to open. The others push themselves, forcibly threatening me to open the door wide for them, bruising me many a time. My sagging eyes, my tossing nights,  my aches and pains stare at them in bewilderment. They moan because they don't want to be tormented. 

They only want you and so do I. Just stay still, you may be pushed or kicked, you will emerge unscathed. The abyss of the potholes or the nerve wrecking speed bumps need to be treaded with caution. Else they may suck you leaving you gasping or even cast you aside forgotten.   

I wait for you alone. Just remember that. We do not need the others. We have walked hand in hand in the past, though seldom. Those are the memories, I want to relive each day. Promise me a raw start with you alone. We have some more decades to go together. With each passing day, I may grow more grey streaks, may even forget names and faces, but I do not want to forget you..... 

 

  

A Decade in the Desert

The desert sands have adopted me,

tolerated my angst, 

bereaved my sadness, 

clung my pensiveness,

permeated my laughter across the grainy terrain. 

Watched my transition from the four's to five's 

the zero hitch- hiking a ride on the numbers 

like my daughter as a child perched on her Dad's shoulders.

The pervading exotic scents have nurtured me, 

the kohl-eyed distant faces, 

the flowing dishdashas, 

adjacent barbeques on the milky beaches 

the blue waters splashing us equally. 

The familiar majboos, the hummus,the suleimani 

cradle my  nomadic senses. 

The wafting shishas, the intimate smiles have mollycoddled me,

the cool slumbery nights, the peals of laughter,

and the  stubbled  greeting tingle my Bedouin soul

The apprehensive long drives, 

the raging white cars,

the  hoodwinking mirages,

and the canopy of blistering degrees 

all dug somewhere in sands of my heart.. 

Strolling camels and the sand dunes whisper 

You are ours now. 

 I am no more the horizon

 I am an accepted wave in their sea of black and white.

SCATTERED THOUGHTS

 This name stuck to me, just as I was meditating. And I kind of liked it. Its been ages since I typed something for my blog. It's like a generation lost in between. What happened? Di I loose my sheen or did I get caught up in the humdrum of life so terribly? What have I been chasing all these years? Or was I even chasing ? It baffles me as to why do I feel like sitting at a place today , not squirming and why is it that my fingers are enjoying the itch to type faster than my thoughts in my head. I wouldn't deny that I have been having this itch to write for some time. I have scribbled on papers and thrown them . I am surprised that my blogpost still exists. I just thought it kind of vanished away. I had even forgotten that I used to write. Reading some of my earlier poems I was wondering was it me that wrote all of those or was it someone else , an another me. Guess passing years, greying hairs on the sides, free time on my hands maybe all of them have their little shouts to suggest yeah its me that brought you back here, or is my newly acquired stillness. Life is strange or queer. Here I am even trying to understand the new format, searching for whatever is new with the technology and lay out. Guess I will figure it out, maybe one step a day. Its my personal space and I suppose I can fumble, go wrong, err, well, no one's there to judge me which is good. So yeah, here I am back and motivated to pursue what I like and that is to scribble my thoughts, pen my emotions, give colour to my moods and voice to my words. There you are my little screen, my quiet listener, who has always been there, but yeah, I owe an apology, I ignored your cues and signals, let sometimes moods, sometimes laziness, sometimes other activities draw my attention. I know you craved my attention, you were there for me ever and I feel like I found a long lost friend again. Do not let go of me....

Destiny

Prasad spotted Naina, his 9'0 clock student, standing near their practice car. He signalled her to wait. A glance on his faded wrist watch showed the time as 8.45. Collecting the Yaris keys from the front desk he proceeded to the tea stall to sip his fourth cup of tea.

Naina was busy counting her attendance on the small green card. Her index finger stopped at seven. Thirty-three more classes left. Desperation was writ all over her face. She had to figure a way out. She hurriedly pressed for the calendar screen on her mobile and started calculating her twentieth class date. The onlookers passing by could hear her counting. Oblivious of her surroundings, she was occupied in thinking of ways and means of fulfilling her dream. She had to convince Sunil by hook or crook, to let her complete mandatory thirteen more classes. The driving school only allowed candidates to appear for the test after completion of twenty classes.

Today’s morning events had toppled her world upside down.

Sunil, bubbling with excitement had hugged her today morning at the clinic. The result was positive. The corners of Naina’s mouth only quirked upward in response. She did not have any strength left to face disappointment a third time. Her hands were also itching to hold her own baby but she concealed her emotions.Both of them had cuddled other’s children many times in the past. They longed for a baby of their own.The gynaecologist seated opposite them was patiently reading the pages of Naina’s pink file.The file contained a detailed report of her two previous miscarriages and her rare blood group. The doctor, closing the file started advising them on precautions to be taken and explained the long list of pills to be consumed. Every movement, any odd pattern had to be reported immediately. Both of them were listening to each word in complete attention. However, the chamber’s stillness and her throbbing heartbeat suddenly felt a jolt hearing the next utterances of the doctor.

“She cannot afford to take any risks. Secondly in addition to all the history, it’s also a late pregnancy. She has to take complete bed rest”. Her face fell listening to these words. Naina shot an icy stare at Sunil, when she caught him nodding in agreement with the doctor. “Bed rest” Her driving dream was again getting shattered. She let out a sigh in despair once she and Sunil walked out of the clinic. She brushed Sunil’s hand away when he tried to put an arm around her shoulder.

Her teen excitement had not waned a bit even today. Naina had always wanted to drive her father's fiat when she was in high school. Her father had strictly instructed their driver never to pass the keys to her. “You will get married one day. I don’t want you to get injured. Why do you want to drive? I will marry you to a guy who can afford a driver for you.”

Naina rebelled at the standard answer he gave every time she requested him. She sulked, pleaded with her father and even tried bribing their driver. But her tricks did not move a single facial muscle of her Dad nor changed the smile of their loyal driver. Mom never had a say in these matters and her driving remained a dream till she married Sunil.

Sunil, after marriage enrolled her for driving lessons. He himself had never driven a car. Hence, when he enrolled for driving lessons, he suggested that Naina should join. Naina was on top of the world. She was thrilled to have a husband who was not a chauvinist like her Dad in these matters. She got a slot a week later than her husband at the driving school in India, but she was ready to wait. She had waited all these years.

Her first lesson at the driving school was still fresh in her memory. She woke up early in the morning, raring to go. Her long lost desire was getting fulfilled. Her one and only objective was to impress her parents with her driving skills, particularly her father. They were visiting her after a fortnight. She even imagined how far her Dad's jaw would drop, if she picked them from the railway station. The very thought gave her a thrill. She joined the driving classes. Over enthusiasm even pushed her to cover three classes on some days. Dining table conversations would invariably end up on discussions on hers and Sunil’s driving progress.

Her confidence improved with each passing day. Two more days left for her parents to come. The only bit now left to learn in the last two classes was reversing. Sunil had already finished his classes and had his licence in hand. He was keen to buy a new car. She decided to give her remaining classes a miss. She wanted to go car shopping with Sunil. His insistence to finish all the lessons fell on her deaf ears. She argued that she had been reversing their scooter perfectly.

Naina confidently drove the new car to the station and parked it. Brimming with joy on seeing her parents, she ran and hugged them. She narrated emphasising particularly that she was the one who drove to the station. Her happiness was plastered on their faces. Sunil, arranging the luggage in the boot fondly looked at Naina. Shutting the boot, he signalled her to sit in the passenger seat. She did not take the cue. She grabbed the car keys and strode confidently towards the driver’s side. She glanced into her father’s eyes in her rear view mirror and started the ignition. With oozing confidence, she reversed, only to dash the car badly against a pole. Sunil ended up coughing thousands of rupees repairing the dent. How foolish she had been in assuming that both car and scooter followed the same pattern of reversing.

She never got an opportunity to drive the car again.

The repaired car had to be sold the next month. Sunil’s company was sending him to States on a new assignment for three years. She joined him in a couple of month’s time, but her mid bump and morning nauseas put her driving dreams on hold in States. Her driving remained a dream and so did her motherhood all these years. within a short span, she had another miscarriage in the States and hence could never drive there too.

This time, in Qatar, she wanted to get everything right, her baby and her driving licence.

A loud burp broke Naina’s chain of thoughts. Prasad, her training instructor longed for a different tea burp. The tea at the corner shop in the driving academy had tasted the same the last three years. He pined for the fragrance of the jasmine flowers and the tinkling of bangles. His thatched hut in Konkan still carried those lovely scents. After marrying Sunita, the smell of jasmine pervaded to every corner of his empty hut. The smell of jasmine adorning her wet hair and sound of her bangles accompanied his morning tea. The couple were happy in their little world.

The first tremors in their blissful married life came in the form of environmentalists. Even today Prasad did not understand the complete implication of the word. One fine day, when he set out for fishing, he and other local fisherman were blocked by a group of people protesting against fishing. They were shouting slogans in English, none of which made any sense. When translated, the entire village was baffled to know that the fishing community was the culprit. The red banners accused them of causing water pollution and ecological imbalance. The agitation continued for days.

The fishing community in particular disliked a person who spearheaded this movement. An Indian and a native of Konkan, a person named Mr.Kelkar, a States returned environmentalist who spoke their mother tongue. The community had to sit through his lectures on global warming and ecological imbalance. Prasad only knew one thing. He had never harmed anyone. He was a God fearing person. “Why was everything going wrong”, he wondered. Mr.Kelkar was the one responsible for shattering Prasad’s domestic bliss and robbing him and his friends of his livelihood. He still wondered even now, how one human being had concern for fish in the sea, but not for co-humans, their aged parents and children.
Mr.Kelkar assured them of all help from the Government for an alternative livelihood. But nothing worked. He tried to find employment, but the numbers of jobs available were few. There were so many jobless fishermen. The competition was stiff. He did not have any other skill. Government’s and Mr Kelkar’s promises to provide compensation never saw the light of the day. Hunger can test a man’s limit. He could never forget Mr.Kelkar’s face.

Some friends suggested that agents in nearby town were sending men to Middle East for jobs. Boarding the bus to the neighbouring town, he also set out to meet the agents. The agent promised him job in Qatar, but he had to pay a hefty fee of 50,000 rupees to the agent for all expenses. The local, moneylender lent him money at a very high rate of interest.

Prasad landed in this Qatar with no skill. The local agent asked him to shadow his current driver. He had never even sat in the passenger seat of a car in his life. He was not as lucky as Naina to enrol for a course to learn driving. The agent by day three told him to start driving, with one clear instruction. If he ever hits or is hit by any vehicle while driving, he was to quickly swap places with the experienced driver. If he doesn’t follow and is caught by police, he will be deported back.
Prasad couldn’t risk losing his job and the he also had the loan looming large on his head. With shaking hands, he clasped the steering in this new country. The speeding cars, the roundabouts at every intersection scared him to death. The experienced driver seated next to him was barking instructions. He wanted to open the trailer’s dusty rattling door and run back to his wife and his town. He also missed the sea, his torn fishing nets, his fish and his friends. The extreme heat, unfriendly terrain and lack of a comforting shoulder added to his woes. He very well knew that he could never escape. His agent had his passport and he was now stuck for two long years.

On the tenth day, his agent took him to appear for the driving test. Prasad to his own surprise passed the test and ended up as a driving instructor in a driving school. His routine included waking up at the crack of dawn and teaching driving from morning six till evening six.

Brushing his eyes with back of his palm, he handed Naina the car keys. Both of them sat in the car and strapped the seat belt lost in their respective worlds. Naina shared with him the news of her pregnancy and the urgency to clear the driving test. Prasad fondly recollected the day, when Sunita had called him one day to share the happy news. He felt so helpless at that moment for he could not even go back to be part of the joy. He had to wait.

Prasad assured Naina, that she would clear the test and he would definitely help her in improving her confidence. He showed Naina, his son’s picture. Last twelve months he had to be content staring at his son’s pictures only. He never had the opportunity to see him in flesh and blood. The company’s contract only permitted him to travel to India at the end of his two years. Six more months wait. Each day seemed never ending. No one could understand his pain. Prasad a father now, decided to provide his son best of education. But he would never let his son become an environmentalist. He still bore the grudge against the environmentalists.

Naina went back home and requested Sunil to let her continue her driving lessons. After hours of discussion, Sunil finally agreed with a condition. “If due to any reason, you are not able to clear in the first attempt, you are not attending anymore classes. I do not mind money wasted, your health is more important.” Naina, thrilled at her small victory nodded her head.

Finally the D-day arrived. The previous day Naina had requested her driver Prasad to come on the test day morning just for moral support. Even Prasad prayed for her. He prayed for all his students, because each student’s first attempt to get licence would fetch him 100 rials. Every rial meant some more savings for his unseen son.

For Naina, he sincerely wished she clear because of the state she was in. Prasad came early in the morning. Naina cleared the signal test, the parking and the L parking test. She next boarded the van along with other students for the road test. She was tensed. Prasad wished her good luck and got back to his teaching. An hour later, Prasad spotted Naina walking with a guy towards him. He could see Naina beaming. The result was written all over her face. He had never seen any of his student so happy on clearing the driving test. As he walked closer to congratulate her and wish her happiness for her future, his eyes fell on the guy walking next to her. The face, the gait all seemed so familiar. He could not go wrong. As they came closer, he felt a lump in his throat. It was the same Mr.Kelkar.