A Little Wish

​It’s raining.

Droplets tipping their way across the window sills.

Rushing away towards their end as fast as they began.

A hand making an imprint on the misty screen.

A little wish, a wider imprint engulfs mine.


Categorized as Moments

Lovely Weather

It’s such a lovely weather. The trickling droplets on my window, the tapping sounds on my moon window, the whistling noise of the breeze, the deafening silence of life…

All that’s missing is the warmth of the soul and the presence of the sole. A touch, a breath, a rhythm of the heart beating, synchronised with my own…

I always feel I’m asking for too much, since if it weren’t, I might have had it already…

Nah, isn’t depressing, though wouldn’t lie it isn’t sad…

If I could only send this to the one who I wish needs to read it, maybe to the one who wants to read it…


Categorized as Moments

Paheli (Conundrum)

The Blue Jeans

Life hardly moved. If anything, it tended to end up where it began. The sun set and the same sun rose the next day, as if mocking at the stagnant life about its boring existence. Waking up was a big chore yet an unavoidable necessity for anyone who’s alive. As heavy as these philosophies sounded early in the morning, he endured through them endlessly. Finally the time arrived to reduce his weight on the bed. And so he did.

Refreshed, revived and rejuvenated, he wore his next pair of Blue Jeans with his matching smile and stepped into the glaring sun. Within a few moments, it would be the best part of the day after all.

He had been living at this place for a little over an Olympics wait period yet hadn’t been consistent with his bus stops. With the recent change in the bus routes, his choices were limited. And with the need to be at his desk before the lunchtime on the east coast, his choices vanished. And thus, he started frequenting this corner bus stop.

Initially it felt to be a mirage in the midst of the desert of nothingness. His only desire was for the bus to arrive to alleviate his misery. Not that the gods ever fulfilled it. And then the proverbial odds fell in his favour. Someone else started using the same bus stop.

The new guy was quite the handsome one, with a smile that would enlighten the darkest time of the night; a pair of hazelnut eyes which brought candles to life with a flicker; and lips which knew how to move.

Wishes were simplistic, to become a dream of his. Dreams were down-to-earth, to become a wish of his. Life wasn’t the same after that, nor was the corner bus stop.

The corner bus stop became usual, occupied by the familiar people – the Green Shirt with his perfect kissing curves and the Black Tee with her typical smile.

He tried to overstep, overtake and overwhelm Mr. Green Shirt yet nothing seemed to have attracted those eyes. Each brawl he witnessed made him crave for more. Each kind gesture he observed led him want for more. Each angle he viewed pushed him yearning for more.

Without even talking to him, pretty much all information was already gathered – the city of work, the location of residence, the morning schedule, the evening rota, the dressing pattern and the phone-call timetable.

There’s been a time immemorial debate to decide whether a romantic is hopeless or hopeful. But somehow that didn’t seem to matter in this case. What made sense was the simple fact that the Green Shirt was so wrinkled that he wished it would have been because of him.

The journey reached its first halt. He got off. He followed suit. Walks paced, horns blew and wheels moved. The sun had four more days to rise before the weekend slumber.

The Green Shirt

The only thing not already in the laundry bag was staring in his face, wrinkled and crumbled. The other choice was a naked torso; not too difficult to figure out. And so he wore the Green Shirt, half tucked in and walked out of the apartment.

The bus was about to close its doors when he leapt to get inside. The centre seat was available and so he grabbed it. The better part of the location is its line-of-sight across the whole interior of the bus. Everyone and anyone could eyeball him without straining their pupils.

Women were instantly jealous of the one who probably was the reason behind those wrinkles. Men were envious of him for having had a lovely time. The other men were envious of the one who shared his time. Everyone had a reason to romance him. Once his stop arrived, he disembarked, so did the sights.

The corner bus stop was as usual, occupied by the familiar people – the Black Tee with her night coloured hair and the Blue Jeans with his typical smile.

Forbidden fruit is the best kind, tending to be grab-able yet out of reach. Ms. Black Tee was just a step away yet she seemed a light year away.

When he first started using this particular bus stop, it was always empty. After what seemed like a drought, one fine morning the gods smiled at him and blessed him with a lady in her finery, running to make sure she didn’t miss the bus. Being a gentleman, he stepped aside to let her in and gave up his seat so that she could be comfortable. More so to make sure that she could view him in all his glory.

Though déjà vu had eluded him ever since. That didn’t stop him from romanticising the days, loving the moments and liking the waits. Something of which had transformed this sleeping stallion into a perfect timer!

He tried his best to get her attention. Some of the days, he even got into a brawl, just so that she could look in his way. But apparently he failed, miserably. As they say about hopeless romantics, he still continued his battle. Some days filled with armour of stupidity, others with ammunition of foolishness and remaining with ocean of idiocy. Yet, his persistence persisted.

His dream was to become her dream and his wish to become her wish. His heartbeats knew when to skip their rhythm, they knew when to pump the blood in its fury and how to make sure the endorphins were funnelled well.

The journey reached its destination. He got off. She followed suit. Walks paced, horns blew and wheels moved. The dream stayed a dream and the wish unfulfilled.

He smiled to himself as his phone screen splashed the day of the week telling him about the four more days to follow before the weekend famine.

The Black Tee

Time has been her foe ever since she learnt how to read it, and so has been the case till date. Irrespective of multiple alarms, a contraption to splash cold water and a poodle to follow suit; leaving the land of dreams was the hardest of all. Though it’s a well-known fact that bad breath of a canine, first thing in the morning, accompanied with the germs on its tongue are enough reasons to ditch the pillow.

A day which begins with reluctance doesn’t store much promise in it. Neither does the corner bus stop she had been using for her first leg of the journey. In a world filled with hurried souls, the stationary point added grimace of the umpteen levels. Since the belief in gods was nonexistent, there was no logical entity to blame it all on. Endurance was what the misery christened as. And then, one fine morning, the sour grapes turned sweet.

She hadn’t seen him before but nevertheless she didn’t mind another sole soul at the bus stop. In addition to making her feel as a part of the crowd it also triggered the senses which generally are stimulated after becoming a bulls-eye aim of Cupid. Misery was a thing of the past. Invisible cheerleaders had started performing their acts.

He seemed to have the right sense to dress up; was always punctual; knew the times well; and filled in the appropriate spaces. She drooled and dribbled and drivelled, and wouldn’t have minded to have his Blue Jeans to herself. Times changed suddenly.

The corner bus stop was as usual, occupied by the familiar people – the Blue Jeans with his adorable sparkling eyes and the Green Shirt with his typical smile.

The skill of knitting dreams had been engrained in her. There were no dearth of scenes, locations and vistas where she hadn’t travelled to with Mr. Blue Jeans and yet never had the courage to smile back to him. There wasn’t a moment in her waits that she didn’t want to move closer and yet she maintained a distance lest her breathing might pick up its tempo.

She wasn’t wishing for much, just enough to make sure he longed for her. She didn’t dream too much, barely adequate to push him to aspire for her. Fantasies had a new address and imagination knew no skies.

The short bus ride gave her an opportunity to look for and then at him. Even though, it was less than a quarter hour, it was enough for her to fill a lifetime. Gods were still nonexistent for her, but she wasn’t averse to the concept, if that would mean a longer bus ride and a comfy distance. The proverbial ice turned out to be hard frozen to be broken even in the middle of summer.

The first leg of the voyage ended. He got off. She waited and followed suit. Walks paced, horns blew and wheels moved. Dreams were dreaming and wishes were wishing.

Just then the ticket collector announced that there were still four more days before the alarms could be silenced for the couple of days.


(First published in summer 2012 release of trikone under the name ali)

My Enviless Jealousy!

The soothing breath, the calming touch, the peaceful presence and the cooling nudge; thus made me realise it was time to wake up from the serene sleep into the placid life.

Though the dreams had just begun to form and the colours were just being short of getting added, I had to drag myself out of the abyss. After all, it was not a request, but a command. Reluctantly did I get myself dressed, well, just slipping into my previous night’s escapades! I have had multiple compliments to the pleasant way I smell, so I took liberties to skip the ablutions. When Trump is all over oneself, it isn’t much of a problem.

The first rays of the dancing sun hadn’t been visible yet, but the city that never sleeps was awake for sure. All I had to do was bring on the drooling appetite in the eyes and there was everything around to fuel the insatiable hunger. It surely is the apple of the eyes.

Visiting from the Pacific has its perks amongst the peasants of the Atlantic, trailing their ways through the walls and its streets. I was allowed to be perched in the navigator’s seat to the one who never needs any navigation. But the sheer pleasure of stealing the coveted spot from others was exhilarating enough.

Driving in the most sought after ride was a reason enough to rule the roost and then came the additional indulgence that I get to own what gets carried over the music waves inside those glass walls. The additions to our baggage, both lively and inanimate, brought the realisation that I was indeed on the path of capturing another of my fears. The apple just puffed up its size.

The first stop was a place where the prayers are placed. Along with the ones by the rest of the half century surrounding me, I placed mine too. And no, it had nothing to do with helping me to overcome my fears; on the contrary…

And then the bliss began.

The peeking yellow amid the dark veils, the hiding twinkle amidst the marching sparkles, the glistening mirage on the flickering roads, and the perishing moment into the ephemeral lives; were all but a canvas. The painting was the glowing smile.

It’s not an easy task to appease the music palate but not difficult when most of the ears are lost in dreamlands. I was in luck. I was able to spend my time in more important tasks. Keeping my eyes glued, ears open and mind racing. The sun was making its grand entrance.

Pretty much all the breathers inside the glass walls were known figurines. The couple of those who weren’t were too lost in their reveries that it wasn’t of importance. So I transferred the energies at revelling with the ones on the other rides.

The ride was reaching its destination. As much as I wished it continued on, I knew that the flowing waters need to reach the ocean some time.

My lady was standing there. The one who always reminds me that my signature is what lies between me and my life. The one who’s behind it all. The one probably a long lost sibling, though our names say otherwise. And only the second time did I willingly sign the death form.

Whenever she’s the herder, I get to adorn tights, hold plastic wrapped sceptre and wear the crown. This season I decided it was time to add some colour. After all, I was able to walk on my two feet rather than confined to the jaws as last time!

I was the quintessential newcomer. Someone who apparently travelled over the meadows and deserts and mountains to drown in the waters. So as much as they all disliked, I had to be made a part of them. Sometimes it’s not easy to let go of a grown person acting like a child. I can assure it wasn’t sympathy, just an apathy.

So, there we were, the group who would be conquering the rapids, a battle to win the waters, a struggle to overcome and a desire to survive. Well, after all, I was the only non-swimmer on the team. I had to watch my own back!

The captain of the raft began on an interesting note. Making a snide comment at the blue blood. But more harm than help that did. Thus was born the team panache.

We were a lot of sorts. From the ups to the lows. From these to those. And from here to there. Not that I can forget them, who could – the queen, the reader, the friend, the bag, the big O and his smaller version, and the ultimate companion. While I was the eighth wonder on the group.

The quick lesson of ducking and holding onto the raft using feet were all I remember. Rest I figured would be better handled by the adrenaline. There was no doubt that we would be the winners at the end. Did I mention no one else dared to stand against the queen and the companion? All that we had to do was make sure we clung on to our raft and displayed our prowess. I took my seat as the third-rows-man, whose job is just to stay in sync. The roar of the water had just begun.

When the memories find their words, they cease to exist. Probably I am being selfish to make sure they exist in their original form and stay intact than be a part of history. Thus were the ensuing moments, where we jerked, rowed, pushed, flowed, jumped, stuck, pulled, shoved, yelled, laughed, heaped, ducked, plunged, roared, rafted, shouted, ignored, smirked, gasped, enlightened, loved and lived.

I don’t think it mattered anymore as to what and why and when and where and how time went on.

We reached the calm waters. The captain allowed us to let our guard down. That was the moment when we got a chance to look at the shimmering waters for the first time. The sheen of the divine lights performing their eternal piece on the impeccable radiant waves, choreographed by the winds amidst the glowing sounds of the flying birds and swimming plankton surrounded by the existence of the mother christened nature. I turned my head, the glowing smile was now blooming, realised that prayers are indeed answered.

Reaching the shore was a mixed feeling. Arms were sore. Rear end was numb. Extremities were dulled. Breathing was heavy. Heart was unfilled. Mind was roaring. Emotions were hungry. Adventure was driving. Life was living.

There I was, completely wet, walking in the sand, with cars whooshing by, whispers crossing ears, comments making their way and compliments flowing endlessly.

We captured the moment in one large panorama of dental show and shining armour.

The sky was still alive, the sun was still prancing, the breeze was still blowing, and the love was still smiling.

I was jealous. The one with no envy.



Serendipity. A happy accident. A pleasant surprise. A good fortune. Or, just plain luck…

For the many romantic souls out there, the mere mention of the word brings in hope, excitement, dreams, wishes and something totally inexplicable. It’s a feeling tough to experience and hard to come by yet the charm lives on and the desire burns on.

It all began, on my many escapades, with me making myself comfortable by the window of the corner coffee shop. Sipping my hot chocolate and making sure I get the glimpse of the fast moving life out of the window, I trained my eyes to set them away from the setting sun. It was a cosy Friday evening, when going home wouldn’t make any sense unless it would be to alleviate the waiting of someone in there…

There he walked out of the mall, blue shirt and black pants, tired of the tiring week and bored of the boring work. Ordered a cup of coffee and found a spot out on the sidewalk in the middle of the rush hour footfalls. Boorishly he started charting the apps on his iPad making sure the chaos was still alive. In between he would take stock of his surroundings with a quick glance, sip the bitter water and swipe back to his charts.

He was part of the eternal crowd keeping track of the time they wait for someone something somehow and somewhere bump into them.

In the distance, the sun was setting and the twilight brought in a sudden breeze. He was three blocks away, clad in black, one shoulder shouldering the laptop bag and the other brandishing the phone call. He was part of the undying crowd, thinking about the past, planning the future, missing the present.

He was two blocks away while the ballet of glance and sip and swipe had just ended the circle.

He was one block away.

The traffic signal went white.

While taking the sip of the coffee, the glance fell on the black suit crossing the road. While brandishing the unending call, the sight caught the blue shirt sipping.

The distance began to subside though neither the glance nor the sight lost their beeline.

The call ended, the sip finished. The phone went down, so did the cup. Both the lips curved into smiles. Irrespective of the life around, their eyes only caught their smiles.

The barista had a chance to make another cup for the gentleman. Once outside, a quick look clarified that the only spot available was on the table in the middle of the sidewalk in the midst of the dwindling footfalls.

The coffee cups were just props. The table top was just a support. The air was just the enclosure.

I was an audience to their moments. The missing glances, the absent-minded touches, the misplaced gestures, the omitted words and the lost world. I was glued to the story with the rest of the universe just nonexistent.

My hot chocolate wasn’t hot anymore, nor the time any lonelier, neither the wait worthless.

Someone once said – there are no accidents.

I beg to differ.

Life is an accident. An accident that is impossible to avoid. Life is a surprise. A surprise that is sufficient enough to amaze. Life is a fortune. Life is just plain luck.

Here I was, witnessing what can be feasible when the universe conspires.

The sun had set, the lights were on. The day ended, night began. The empty slot was filled, wait was over. The present was being lived, the future being worked. An accident just happened, surprised me with its awe, fortunately, luckily!

The Friday night wasn’t so bad after all. Maybe one day, I shall wear the blue shirt.

Just then the barista tuned on the radio. And the sidewalk had the subtle kiss, the quiet embrace, the hands held, the walk walked and the song played

Oh this has gotta be the good life
This has gotta be the good life
This could really be a good life, good life


(First published in winter 2011 release of trikone under the name ali)