Saturday, November 28, 2009

You were little….

You were little. Around ten years old? Probably. You had two pigtails and ribbons at their end, pale blue frock, soft and happy, till your knee.

There was a lot of gaiety around. You walked through a sky high arch. Music was loud. Four beats to perfectly suit the alternating footsteps, yours and his.

He was huge. His big warm hands held yours safe and tight. Everything else was alien. His elbow was your head’s reach. You needed to look up to see that beaming smile.

There were lots of people around. Hundreds of shirts, all of which you wanted to paint. Sari ends dangling down- some glittering, some beautiful, some fearful. You knew his shirt and its scent too.

There were watches on some hands and bangles on others. Some were just plain, like yours. But you always knew his hand. It was warm, a reassuring grip. You never had to cling.

Did you see the cone hat on the ice-man’s head? Oh! You could see only the counter. Perfectly your eye level! Wasn’t that scoop bowl pretty with the cones near it?

You were sure the cone he took was for you.

Now your other hand was occupied too. The ice-cream was smooth and fragrant. It had shadows and freckles that the scoop had made. Like Amma’s custard, it smiled at you.
Amma knew you were safe too, for his hands were big. They were warm, unlike the ice-cream. But, the ice-cream was nice too.

There were merry-go-rounds through which the sun smiled. He sat beside you. You were scared and hugged him tight. Even the tip of your fingers couldn’t find each-other, to complete the loop. He was huge.

Your hand was still inside his palm. You knew you were safe.

The ice-cream spilt on his clean green shirt. You cried. Its okay, you were little. He washed it off, the ice-cream, with a bottle-capful of water. He consoled you too.

He spoke big words. You knew none. You could only smile

You wanted the balloon. Nice and ink blue, splashed with white spots. He got it for you. Now that filled the ice-cream’s hand. You smiled. You laughed when he did, also at the puppets.

You laughed as the puppets jumped and at the bittersweet voice which sang for it.

You wanted to see the dance properly. The place was crowded. People brushed you aside. His warm hands were firm when it held you. You couldn’t see the stage. He lifted you up gently, placed you on his shoulder, over his soft cotton shirt. You looked down at people now. You smiled and cheered at the dance, clapped hands. His warm hand held you firm.

You thought it was time to go home. Everybody clapped merrily and were walking away randomly. You could see the sky high gate. His palm held yours firmly. You were carefree, for you knew he would take you home.

It was noon. The wind was happy and breezy. Some clouds began to play hopscotch with the sun. Then they began hide and seek. It was sun’s turn now.

You were feeling hungry. He gave you water. You drank greedily; still there was enough for him in the bottle.

The magician did strange things. They were nice. You liked the black hat with its red ribbon. You kept gazing at the rabbit, walking past it. It was white and had a pretty eye.

You clapped when it ate the carrot and jumped. You laughed and laughed. Your stomach hurt.

Did you know that you weren’t walking? The magic show was over. But why weren’t you walking?

You lifted your hands from the last clap.

Numerous waists were around. No hand. No green shirt. Everybody was huge.

You sang his song. That line, once, twice, tens of times. Each time was streakier and louder. It was no more music.

You were worried how he would get back home. Did you know that he knew his way back home?

He was huge too.

You wondered if he knew that you were small.

You wondered if he knew you could see no faces.

You wondered if he knew you couldn’t speak big words like huge people.

You did not know you were crying.

You yelled for him.

You cried no-more. You couldn’t.

Do you know your way back home?

He probably needed both his hands for himself now.


Friday, October 16, 2009

A Refrain

' koI kahiyo rE, prabhu Avan kI .. Avan kI, mann bhAvan kI '

She hummed the song for the fourth time. It was getting addictive.

The screen, blue striped white, fluttered expectantly. One could hardly see the road. Dust,sand and wind waltzed around to welcome the awaited one.

40 degrees Celsius. Rain expectant earth. The one tendriled creeper on the far left of the window shook its last speck of dust down.

Washing machine made tumbling musical noises as if it murmured a lyric. The silence was viscous, with the widowed tea cup's attempts to dry off.

Whipping a bowl of batter, she walked across the room. The broom fell, by now tired of the tune. The leaky tap's drip percussed the tumbling lyric.

She had just washed the batter off her hand. The mild fragrant musk lingered, swinging with the song.

The air thickened; foot steps....
Those deceptive ones which always yearned to be his.

Dusky kalamkAri clothe, clung to her gently. The patterned cotton making waves on her arm. Shapes of a crescent moon's desire.

The cross-ventilated drawing room was busy with whispers of the unheard southern wind's breezy secrets.

I saw her lashes for the first time. Each one smiled, for the waxing white of her eye.
First few drops plopped. The door opened to him, and secrets ceased to be...

'Avan ki... mann bhAvan ki....'



Tuesday, September 1, 2009

rant

my fourth hour with it,
i hate upper case letters.
the computer has tired.
my fourth page comes,
i haven't progressed.
the paper needs to go.
my fourth finger aches,
i had googled much.
the number still unknown.
my fourth moon's vision,
i have to sleep in dark,
the tamas and you mAyA!

Thursday, February 12, 2009

Women's day special...

......all that has ever been spoken has been pain, violence and crib.(no denial about the existence of the clouds!!)Hasn't there been even a single smile about being a woman? please ask them to stop right there and look back.Probably you were privileged ' for a change ', treated well and dwelt in peace?

How do you answer the shorter queues that i jumped about clinging to my amma's saree, The emptier boogie that i climb into making my brother envious, The pink colour application that cost much lesser.... Belonging to the 'fairer sex' is not all that bad.There are pains that only you are privileged enough to be bothered about. A gentle graceful species that men cannot afford to be....

.....she has been in my life ever since i have been....a silently vibrant part...'n ya i 'mean' the word silent. The deep eyes to know 'n convey all that she wishes to, the dance of her soul in every movement.......... she was the inspiration,for the delightful moments of silence i relish when alone. Despite the taunt,pain,scar,a destiny unknown and unfulilled,..............
.......the kid still smiles at the sight of her peacock blue saree!

Tuesday, February 3, 2009

Crayons, sketch pens,pencils, oil pastels, paints,water colour, acrylic,brush ,palette, knife,eraser, this that....blah blah blah... oh nothing... its just the impact of me having visited a stationary store. The multiplicity in colours has forever fascinated me. Its red , hmmmm... but not exactly red. Its a li'l brownish. I think i also see a tinge of yellow in it,but i guess this colour is possible only with a drop of purple.......a brownish yellowish purplish red? ya...still its red. I know that its red. but how? this looks like that vague toadstool i was given to colour in my kindergarten. wow! Do you remember the cute rhyme that comes along?

' ...croak! croak! croak! croak!
who is in pink frock?
oh! li'l greeny frog;
in blue 'n brown bog!....."

That green was a shade of brownish olive and there was bright blue water composed of messy strokes from my broken jumbo wax crayon that was specially designed by some wonderful person to keep me alive even after biting into it.(wax crayons actually can taste yum ;) ).
Every time this rhyme was yelled......er.......sung in the class in chorous in tune we were 'supposed' to ve clung to, a beautiful picture of a cartoonish, sloppy frog underneath a nice smooth polka dot spotted toadstool n its kid actually using it as a stool :P...........
...well what was i intending to say??
oops sorry i forgot... hope to get back in the next scribble........