Thursday, December 22, 2011

The Whites of Nature

                              First Snow in Zurich. As seen from my balcony.

I have made no secret of my desire that I was desperately looking forward to snowfall. It may be lame for people who get snow regularly in their city. Well Delhi doesn’t. And the place I was born also doesn’t. So, yeah, you got it right. I have never seen a real snowfall. And when I checked the forecast one day(17th Dec) for Zurich, it said Chance of snow – 100% tonight. I just wanted to see that moment, when the first flakes fall on the earth. I waited and waited. And waited some more. Midnight came and went. The movie I was watching ended. I read a book, watched something else, felt hungry and ate something. All this while, looking outside, to see if it is snowing. I had to see it. And then it came. White powders pouring in from the unseen dark sky. It was 5:30 AM. And the moment captured in my eyes. I opened the door and went outside in the balcony. I let the whites cover my black jacket.

The Whites of Nature,
Were falling from the sky.
They rested on my blackness.
My orders they would defy.
They melted on me.
I don’t even ask why.
They touch my skin.
And Whisper
For all the evil in you,
Goodness is always nearby.
So,Close your eyes.
And,Expand your vision.
Do what you feel.
Feel what you do.
Following your heart,
Is always worth a try.

Quitting without even trying,
That would be the worst.
If you have to break my heart,
You have to take it first.

Signing off for this year.
Enjoy it, while it is still here.
Bye Bye. See you in 2012. 

Another year, Another challenges.
Which, I will be ready to face. 
Wishing you all a good time,
Likely to be away from this place. 

Saturday, December 17, 2011


                                      Zurich Lake, Early Morning.
                                  He wanted to talk to anyone, someone.
                                  But, didn't know with whom to share.
                                  There was a lot left to say in the end.
                                  Could not find anyone, who will care.

                                 The world went on its way, as usual.
                                 His life got bigger, his feelings down.
                                 There were a lot of people, he could see
                                 The one who mattered was not in town.

                                                        The Fist

                                 He will never know right from wrong.
                                 The chain of his life was losing its link.
                                 He stood straight, staring at the mirror.
                                 Smoke in one hand, and a glass of drink.

                                 A day will come brighter than yesterday.
                                 Daily, to himself, he used to repeat.
                                 Odds against him were rising every day.
                                 Anything, he could accept. But not Defeat.

                                          Lake Geneva at Sunset, Lausanne

Thursday, December 15, 2011

Story of a Stubborn.

Continuing from the two paragraphs which I wrote on the previous post..

I don’t want to be heard. 
I don’t want to be seen.
I am and I will be.
What I have always been.

What I have always been.
You will never know.
You can try to contain me,
But, I will always flow.

I will flow and I will grow.
Piercing your walls of perceptions.
I believe in honesty and fair play,
I do not play the game of deceptions.

Deception is the game of those,
who do not have faith and trust.
I am marching on the gravel road.
Throw the stones, if you must.

Some stones will hit, some will miss.
On some I will step, to move ahead.
I will keep learning the lesson of life,
Enough of which have already been said.

It has been said and repeated many times.
But, you still try to cast me into a pattern
I am one of you. But then may be I am not,
Can't say much, other than, I am too stubborn.

Too stubborn may be, for my own good. But,
There is nothing conclusive, which one can tell.
The moment of reckoning is still not in sight.
But, I will rise higher, every time I will fail.

Failure is a just a road, just like any other.
There will be one road, With Success very near.
But, now is the moment. I see the starting line.
At least I know, my mind is without Fear.

Fear I knew once. But I left him on the way.
I will live with pride and will die for glory.
Forget My name. But, remember , there lived a one,
Who meant what he said and this was his story.

Tuesday, December 13, 2011


I don’t want to be heard.
I don’t want to be seen.
I am and I will be.
What I have always been.

I know you want to crawl upon my body and want to make me one of your own. But, I resist. Resistance is in my blood. You can  take everything away from me, but not my right and will to resist. You try, and ultimately fail, to convince me, why I should let you crawl over my body. But, you don’t care about it. What you care, is the heat that my resistance gives you. You use it to warm your cold souls. But, you hardly notice it.

My resistance may fail. But, I want you to know, that if I submit, it will not be because I will be sick of resisting. I am not going to give you that satisfaction. It will be because, I will be sick of seeing you being sick of my resistance. But, you aren’t wise enough to understand this. So, you can revel and rejoice in your false glory.

I know, you are waiting for my resistance to end, so that, you cannibals can make good use of it. You won’t even wait for my eyes to die, my heart to stop and my blood to dry. You may devour my body, once I am gone, but remember, after that your days are numbered too.  The poison, which I have been taking all these years, flows everywhere in my body now. Every time I gulp the poison, the bitter taste of it is replaced by the sweet satisfaction of knowing that, it will kill something else, beside me. Kill something worth killing more than me.

For now, I am here. So don’t you put your hand on my shoulder and pretend that you are my savior.  The minute I turn my head, I know, you will grab my hand to pull it away from my body. Listen, I am not done yet. My resistance will be on. And if I fail, I know the poison will do its job. I hope you die a slow death. I will be in peace knowing that, you can have no more heat from my resistance. You soul will be cold. Forever.

What I have always been,
You will never know.
You can try to contain me,
But, I will always flow.

I know this post is as incoherent as the last one. Its OK. I meant it that way. :)

Friday, December 9, 2011

Standing on the platform earlier would not make the train come early

I have not written for more than a week. I need the drug. Badly. I have nothing saved in my drafts. I prefer it that way. Sometimes, I prefer to make a fresh dinner, and not warming the food from yesterday. The taste may not be the best. But at least its fresh. Hot. Fuming. No, fuming won't be a correct word. But, I will call it fuming. 

The party is big. The room is small. There are no lonely corners, where you can just have a glass in the hand and pretend to smile. All the corners are taken. I know a few faces here. But, they are all busy in their own corners. But, I like it that way. I prefer to not to have to say good bye, while leaving. Sometimes. I have learnt to slip silently. 

It was not easy at first. I thought, it would be a courtesy to say good bye before leaving. But, no one was listening anyway amid the noise. So, I let the curtain fell. I opened the back door and left. For a change, I don't have to care about opening the door silently. Noise has its advantages. You can pretend not to listen, when, actually you are. I leave the noise behind. While hoping, that someone from behind will notice me leaving and may ask me to stay. Yes. At least ask. Whether I will stay or not, is a choice left to me. Yes. CHOICE. That is important. Sometimes, I choose not to choose. I get my own fun in it. FUN. Yes, I seem to have a vague idea about that. People used to say, it is important too. FUN and PARTY were cousins, I was told. I was in a party. But, I couldn't meet fun there. I wonder, if Fun was present at other parties today. Now, It’s Ok. I have slipped silently from another party. I can not hear you, but I can see you from here. I can read your lips. And I can see you smile. Though the cheek which has the dimple is on the other side. But, I can imagine it. Even from outside the door.

The air outside loves me. It keeps thrashing against my face. It blows at the correct speed. It knows, I wouldn’t be able to breathe, if it blows harder. It understands. Yes, UNDERSTANDING. I tried that once too. But, then I understood that no one cared anyway. The chill in the air reiterates the lesson. 

Standing on the platform earlier would not make the train come early. I leaving the party would not make you leave the party early. The smoke coming from the butt, which I just smashed under my shoes also tells me the same. (So, you suck every bit of pleasure from me. Even then you are not satisfied. You crush me under your feet and leave me on the side of the road. The butt says this too. I pretend not to listen)

It’s ok. You keep looking for the fun in the party. I will keep looking for it outside. And when we will meet at the cross roads, we will ask each other, if we had fun. But, I know the answer already. Neither of us will be sure. Which is good. There is no fun in being sure of anything. Confusion is mysterious. And a Pleasure. But, we would both know, that fun was following us. We just never bothered to look behind. To look at each other. But, we wouldn’t say this. Not to each other. We will pretend that we are having fun. And it will be fine.

Friday, December 2, 2011

When No One Deserved to Take a Smaller trophy

Everyone I met that day gave me the same look. ‘You stand no chance today’ look. They had good reason to do so. The opposition was faster, stronger, and fitter.

It was a fairly small, insignificant local badminton tournament. For us, teenagers. I had reached the final, which in itself was a bit surprising. Only two days back, I was facing elimination in the quarter finals against a more skillful player. I only won, because, he got tired very soon. I played very erratically in the semi finals too. Against a much taller player. I won, again, because, he didn’t know how to use it. The other finalist, on the other hand, had steamrolled everyone on his route to finals. To worsen matter, it seemed to me, that everyone on that day had come to see me properly and duly thumped.  

The only people in my box were, my papa and brother. The first set began. And it ended in a flash. It wasn’t a surprise for anyone. I was, to say the least, annihilated. My movements were slow. My judgments were wrong. Smashes weak. Placements non-existent. As I sat in the chair in the break, I saw papa standing by my side. He didn’t say anything. Or may be he did, just by looking at me. Fight.

We came back on court. Mind and body started to work in sync. I found what I was looking through the whole tournament. Rhythm. I was a different person. I won a closely fought 2nd set. Surely, this must be an aberration, others thought. OR NOT. I won the 3rd set as well. By an even bigger margin. We were both tired. As we sat in the break, Papa looked at me again. That’s more like it. The match was ON. We started the 4th set. The tables turned again as he gathered himself and won, once again, a closely fought set. Everything had boiled down to the decider. The 5th set.

No one expected the match to last this long. But it did. No one expected it to stretch to 5th set. But it did. No one expected me to be still standing. But I was. We both gathered our last ounces of energy and played a match worthy of a final. Every point was fiercely fought. The two teenagers were diving all over the court, and every time, the spectator cheered or clapped, our energy level got up. No one was supporting anyone. They were supporting both of us. They were cheering the game. Ever saw a game, where you thought, no one deserved to lose? When you thought no one deserved to take a smaller trophy? *

Winning and Losing fades into the background. What remains is, Pure Sweat. Honest Effort. A bruised elbow. A bleeding knee. Panting of the heart. In the end nothing mattered. We both were equally breathless. And we both had a sleepless night, as we kept playing the match in our heads over and over again.

*At that time, I admit, I was playing to win, and these thoughts come, when I see things from the outside.

By the way, I lost.I am sure, If I would have won, this post would not have come. :P