GROWING OLD

Growing old

Time and again I have been told

“U r growing old”

The walls, sometimes, seem to whisper

“Your bday is here, old age is near”

I wonder why we were taught

“Old is gold”; when being old is so feared.

When I was a teenager

I was told to act mature

As I was growing old

Even before old age came

The chant of being old was there.

When I started working

I was told to save

Old age is a bad time

Don’t be so spendthrift

Or in Ur old age u will sign and heave .

I don’t see wrinkles on my skin

I still feel young and energetic

“You ought to get married now”

The neighbors say

Parents, subtly, the same convey.

I really don’t understand

What age has to do with marriage plans?

Why age is so magnified?

Why growing old is curse personified?

Talkative discussion

                                                 Talkative discussion

                                    When I was little I was told, men discuss n women talk

                                   Women work at home , men go outside the house….

                                   I noticed men standing near my school gate

                                  I wondered what they discussed, standing there, till late.

                                 Many just stood there and sipped tea and smoked

                                 And gazed and gazed, as if the girls’ were love letters

                                They seem to adorn each girl with their eyes

                                Practicing apodyopsis, as each girl went by.

                                Their discussing, as I grew, I realized

                               Were of a different nature

                               It wasn’t politics, it wasn’t games

                               If someone told u this, well it’s a lie.

                              U could never escape their roving eyes

                              They caught u, no matter how much u tried to hide

                              All u could do was walk, as though u were blind.

                             Men thought, women were made, to be enjoyed

                             Kept in the house, as a show piece

                             Not exactly calling her show piece but wife

                             Thought they seldom discussed it

                             You could see the signs of superiority in their eyes.

                             By and by, I realized

                            Women also discuss and men talk

                            But women have more to say

                           Coz they are the ones who work hard.

                           In fact they are expected to work

                           Without saying a word

                           If they open their mouth

                          Men say, women all the time talk.

                          Men numerous interests

                          When put in words, discussion is called

                         Then why are women accused of only talk…talk…talk?

the unsaid

         

The Unsaid

It was not given in writing

The words were never said

But she thought he understood

That word should not spread.

There was no bond for concealment

No promises to be kept

Yet he discussed it with his friends

In no time, it seemed

The whole world knew about -the unsaid.

The truth stared at her face

But she kept believing in the lies

And when she was ready to face it

It was of no consequence.

Probably he was a dropleton

Pretending to be something he was not. 

Yet ...sometimes, it made her feel ill

This wasn’t right

It was their secret

She wondered, why could he not just be quiet.

A Short Walk To Miles

A Short Walk To Miles

She turned around to have a better view of the monument standing afar

As she did so, her head banged against something hard

 She could hear the heartbeat, so she guessed it was his heart.

 She liked the rhythm of his heartbeat

Closing her arms around him to listen more closely

She asked “does your heart always beat so loudly?”

 He did not reply, for what seemed like eternity

She thought, he must be shocked, in all probability.

Realizing that she had crossed the line of decency

She starting withdrawing

But he held her close and lifted her

She closed her eyes and so did he

 “Damn!” She cursed, “How can I be so carefree?”

They had decide to take a short walk

But it seemed they were covering miles

She knew it was wrong and she should stop

But her greedy heart wanted it to last

In that twilight night

All the wrongs seemed right.

Time, she knew will never come back

Things will never be the same

She thought, So why not to live this moment while it lasts.

Dreams do come true

                      Dreams do come true

I snatched my bag and ran from room to room

I could not find my pen; I could not find my shoes

There were too many things lying on my bed

Which files and things I had to take was undecided.

I looked at the watch and saw my empty wrist

 No pen, no books, no watch

I asked myself “What kind of day is this?”

My clothes not ironed, each strand of hair is astray

Oh! This day! This day!

I yelled, I cursed, I looked fanatically

Things were hazy and I was going crazy.

I opened my eyes, my head throbbing hard

“Where am I” was the question I asked

I looked around and realized I was on my bed

I told myself “It was just a dream”

And fished for my mobile to see what time it was

It was almost time for me to get up

But I told myself “you can have 5 minutes extra”.

It felt great to be lazing on the bed again

“Just 5 minutes” I told myself.

I woke up after, which seemed some minutes

Stretched myself and at the mobile, I gazed

 5 minutes had turned to an hour

And just like the dream the yelling, looking, cursing began

That was the day I knew

Dreams do come true J :P

NEMISES

  Nemises

I knew ever since u left, that I will miss u

First madly n badly, then the pain will ebb away

Slowly this phase of love n longing will pass

Not that I will cease loving u

If fact, I know, for days or months or years

Every man I meet will seem like u

Or I will try to find u in every guy

But no guy can be like u

In fact I don’t want anyone like u

All I want is u….ever…

How to be over u, will be my agenda

In trying to forget u

I will remember ur voice calling my name

Remember ur fingers caressing my hair

Sleeping soundly, knowing u r there…

As time passes I will realize u r no more there

Not in the room, not in the house

Neither in my life

And perhaps one day I will accept ur absence

That will b the day I will laugh loudly at my silliness

As I m crying now……

no....no... not again!

Not Again!

I wanted to go back…didn’t want to climb up….Will I get those displeased expressions? What will be said? These questions persisted. How was I going to handle the situation, was a big question mark. Perhaps, I could begin by saying sorry. That was an old idea and I knew it was not going to work.

The house was on the first floor and every step I took I tried a different answer, that would hopefully do the trick but even when I reached the last stair and stood in front of the house, I was yet to come up with an appropriate answer. My friend looked over her shoulder and asked me not to worry, saying so she rang the door-bell. The door opened and I could hear the inevitable one word question - chocolate?  The door opened wider and the small one stood there, her eyes looking directly at me and I thought “no! No! Nooo! Not again”. I knew I had to get it for her; but it so happened that we were busy chatting and I forgot .Since I was already at their place, I would have to walk at least 2miles in order to get it (that’s not an exaggeration).  My friend, who is also the mother of the two year old interviewer, said “we will get it later”. The expression immediately changed from expecting to sadness. So I asked her if there was a shop nearby. She held my hand and took me to a bedroom and from the window pointed at some place and said there is a shop there. Her elder brother said “that is closed in the noontime”. Déjà vu, I thought. And I remembered the first time I had met the little one.

My friend had invited me to her place. I knew she had two kids and I planned to pick something up for them, on the way to their house but unfortunately I forgot (sounds familiar?) so when I landed at their place; empty – handed the little one greeted me smilingly but after realizing that I was not carrying anything worth, she went to play. For some time she played in her room and refused to come out to meet me again. She hid behind the curtain and watched as her mother and I chatted.  One time, I hid behind the curtain and the minute she came out I grabbed her, she was scared at first but soon began to laugh, with that I told myself “ice is broken” and smiled at the thought. The rest was easy or so I thought. She recited poems, danced, sang and I thought “good she has forgotten about the chocolate”

After spending some time, I got up to take my leave. At the door I held the little one and said “I could not get anything for you, next time when I come I will get it”. She put her left hand on her hip and raising her right hand, motioned me to wait so I waited, puzzled. She came back and said “tum nahi lekar aaye kyuki tumharey paas paisey nahi hongey. Tum ye rakho.”(You probably did not get anything because you did not have money so keep this). She put her right hand forward and I extended my hand, filled with anticipation. I thought it is a flower or some sort of a card or toffee raping paper, with all these things in mind I opened my palm and lo!  A 2 rupee coin fell from her hand and landed in mine. She looked up to me and said “tumko zauat hogi”(you need it).

The two faces staring at me brought me back to the present and the only thing I could think of saying was “no! No! Noooo! Not again”.