Saturday, 15 February 2014


She's gone. She had to.

"Please Don't try to get in touch" were her last words, spoken in impending sobs. The worst part was that she was alone when it happened. Her friends, her parents far away. Trusting the hands of her soulmate, she gave herself away. Only to have her innocent faith trampled.

As the phone went dead and no answer came upon repeated dialling, the night was spent in helplessness of not being able to know what she underwent. Only darkness was outside. A calm in which hidden were shrieks audible to his ears alone. He didn't sleep, he couldn't. He deserved it.

No one could live in such relentless despair. The thin trust which held the bond finally broke. For how long could she take all the suffering, the anguish. She gave it her everything, even more than anything. She tried and tried and tried, to make him believe in goodness. She eventually surrendered to the truth that she was dealing with an incorrigible man. She had to go. For her peace. For her life, for her future.

He believes in his own failings. He couldn't have let his doom shadow her radiance. She is hope, he is decline. She is tomorrow, he is yesterday. She is the first ray of morning waiting to brighten lives, he is the dusk doomed to bring night. She had to go.

In that brief hurdled alley of love, he was gifted with unforgettable affection and she was slammed with insensitivities galore. So she had to go.

That prosperous road calls you
That joyous garden waits for you
Go on now with wings of faith
Walk on now with promise

All the fame be yours
All joys and true love
Wait for you and beckon
Skip us like a illusion

You're new morning
Let go of the dying night

Dont turn back
Dont fill with regret
This was nothing
You are meant for better

Why someone must wait for death ? How great has to be the anguish and how immeasurable must be the hopelessness to open arms to everlasting end.  How far must the simple joys of life be from reach to make eternal departure a simple escape. How certain one has to be that he's no reason left to live, to want a closure to his life.

He knew. The impossibility of ever having her back broke him. The futility of his future lay clear before his sight. Birth is not the only reason why we choose to live. When love is sure never to touch you or worse when you are sure that you simply don't have what it takes to recognize love or embrace it, it's better to vanish. There remains no point to life. He kept telling himself. 

To die looking into the eyes of the one you love is the destiny of a chosen few. He'd read that somewhere. Being a man terrified of loneliness having spent most of his life alone, he had quickly assured himself of that climax to his life. Now when he was about to close his book, he stared at the glittering ripples of the river under his feet, almost inviting his fatigued soul and recalled his resolve.

But she had gone away. Taking with her everything, even the possibility of that last glimpse.

He closed his eyes and spread his arms. He took a deep breathe of the air for the last time and sent a silent message

Please sing again
Those words
Which you hummed
In the softness of morning

How do I live
When gone is the reason 
For my breathing

In my passing
I give you all my 
Fortune and wishes through
For love - everlasting and true 

The splash was not heard as the Coromandal Express rumbled its way through the endless tunnel above. The thoroughfare on the bridge continued to move ahead, as did life, oblivious to termination of one pointless journey comforted by the calm depths of the Mahanadi.

Sunday, 9 February 2014

Far And Near

       (Based On Actual Events)


 I think to myself, if I'm a magnet for melancholy then the problem would be two fold. I can't stay with anyone. No one can stay with me. Simple logic. The worries begin when the hopes of human heart are pitted against the foibles of mind. While heart wants to love and be loved, mind conjures these tricks to sway you. In the end it's always the heart, only the heart that takes a beating. Bleeding and limp. I'm thinking of my friends Amar and Evelyn.

         Amar loves Evelyn. He professes that he belongs to Evelyn, in his spirit and in mortal form. Sadly, the distance between them is overwhelming, often the point to his unexpected outbursts. Amar lives in an Indian town and Evelyn dwells amidst subdued suns and overwhelming cold, with her parents in Switzerland. A typical day in their love story begins with longing, moves into long distance communication, then basks under uninhibited professing of love, and often ends with terrible fights. It's amazing how they endure the stark transformation of circumstances unfolding in matter of hours. Amar likes to believe that it's Evelyn's strength and her trusting resolve that keeps their bond afloat, her will to take this story forward that keeps them together. Only the other day Amar was telling me how he'd let out a surge of his rage upon Evelyn over some ignorable disagreement. He loathed himself for being rude with her. Alas ! he could not take back all the words he had already uttered, the wound that had already been inflicted, the precious tears that had already flown down, the ones he always promises to protect. It wasn't easy to comfort Evelyn, he told me. She was sobbing unstoppably. Distraught and hurt by Amar's insensitivities, Evelyn fought hard to suppress her tears, conceal them from others. I feel sorry for Amar. The poor fellow has no clue how to go on. He can't handle the only thing in him that seems to push away all who mean nothing but love and care for him. I even despise him for a moment. What good is a human mind if it brings and causes nothing but misery to oneself and others alike. I ask him if Evelyn has ever been rude to him. An instant 'No' came in reply. But Amar felt quiet after saying that, as if he wanted to qualify his hasty reply, but stayed quiet anyway. I feel sorry for both of them. Their love story had begun with such promise, such resolve and clarity, despite them being million miles away from each other. I see Amar reduced to one fringing on borderline insanity. He keeps looking at things for hours at a stretch. He's always afraid to speak freely to Evelyn, worrying his innocent curiosities might trigger an instant misunderstanding. He can' stay quiet and his words spell disaster. I see his predicament, an excruciating one. He tells me that Evelyn wasn't like that when they were starting to know each other. She was receptive. A wry smile claims Amar's face, as he says ' I'm doomed to love her and yet treat her like a colleague, with whom, there's only a small distance which one can walk, only a permitted list of expressions which one can make and a even smaller category of thoughts and expectations which one is allowed to discuss and anything beyond that holds the risk of ignited fury and immeasurable hurt for both. I'm not blaming her. Maybe I'm the one who is responsible for her state.'

I hold my thoughts and delve deeper into his.

It's not before long that I see moistness well up in Amar's eyes. I hug him and try to comfort him. He breaks down in my hug. I don't know what to say. I let him cry. It takes a while but he stops. We watch the distant 
tall storied buildings teeming in the heart of the city waiting to welcome the first rays of the arriving sun before they descended to the ground upon objects at their feet. Its almost 4 AM, I'm feeling horribly sleepy yet I cannot abandon my friend. I was in two minds whether to let him calm down under the impending quietude of dawn or ask him to go to bed. Before I could decide he began..



'You know I love her like I have never loved anyone.'  Yet I've no clue why I always end up hurting her. Its like devil takes over. And the next moments are blinding to all her requests, pleadings. By the time I recover, I've almost ruined everything. Knowing that she's everything to me.'

    I was full of advices but knew it wasn't exactly advice that Amar was seeking. I let him continue.

       I carefully grill him. 'What makes you think you love her ?'

     He shoots back his typical hurried glance at me. There are faint signs of a sudden surge behind his eyes. That impugned temper again. But he's too drained to summon it. I imagine what Amar must look like when he's fuming. I persist. 'I think its a fallacy that you guys are living in. Ask yourself'

Amar turned his head towards the distant boulevard. He spoke without looking back.

 'When I hear her speak, I almost instantaneously conclude that I am born to belong to her. That I could devote my whole existence to her in an eye blink. She speaks with such absolute certainty that it right away catches me wordless, cages me to her will. The consequence she wields on my will is astounding. I know I give her a hard time with my fickleness yet something about her inspires stability in me. She brings out a form of me which even I didn't know existed till she walked into my life. That form of me is content, in peace, believes in forgiving, and has an enthusiasm for life. If only I were different than I am, if only I could submit completely, bind myself to her in entirety, follow her like the springs seek the seas. If only I could surrender to that elusive composure.'

      I remain mute. Don't want to interrupt his catharsis. He closes his eyes and resumes.

'You know Anupam, she's my reflection, I'm her shadow. I see her catching my movements, my motives, my expressions and I'm inseparable from her, even if she wants it or not. Its nature. Its inevitable. I drown myself completely in her essence. If only somehow, I could find a way to be with her. Its harrowing to be loved by her, embraced by her, only in my imagining. It is beyond what I am capable of holding down. I am thinking about her all the time. Not a moment passes by without me imagining in what ways I would hold her close to my body.  She'll always feel my love but perhaps never know of my longing.'

'Don't you think you should handle this with maturity. I mean obviously you two are worlds apart in time and distance. When the sun sets here, she's probably having her brunch and her evening begins when the world here has long slipped onto bed. So why not handle the situation with that consciousness within.' I retort, unable to hold back.

'I know. But have you ever waited for something so long before realizing that nothing, no force, no formula, no logic, no sermon of right and wrong can restrain you from seeking to attain it with finality and with certainty. Every drop of your blood coursing in your veins implores you to unite with it. And until you do it, you keep getting torn bit by bit. 'As a famous writer once put it 'to not be able to love the one you love is to have your life wrenched away'. I mean, you're amiable now and irritable the next moment. The ache leaves you momentarily only to return with renewed force. As your soul searches for her, its her and only her words of reassurance which can calm your rage. 

I notice that an ostensible somberness has engulfed Amar's tone. He speaks with absoluteness of a saint and with conclusiveness of a preacher, exhibiting an aspiring gleam in his eyes. He's unable to wander off from the places he's set his feet on. That's a good thing. For in the end love always finds a way. Amar's and Evelyn's story will also carve a course for itself. Or perhaps it will wilt as per popular prediction. I send a prayer to the ascending dawn. I leave Amar in peace with himself. I recede from his proximity. Before I leave, I glance at Amar once more. I see him couched on the terrace on the foreground of the rising sun,  which arrives breaking the anxieties of the by gone night.  Amar's eyes are fixed on the sun as if it carries a message of love from the other side of the world.

Saturday, 8 February 2014

She Through Me

This is an extract from a series of exchanges. She lives in Europe, amidst subdued suns and overwhelming cold. Her beauty needs to be told.

Dear ...........,

    I imagine you reading this letter snuggled under your quilt, shying away from the western winter.  I intend hence, to give you some warmth and some early morning love to carry you through the day. I wonder if I can ever give these to you by the touch of my hands... by my fingers... and by my lips. If I can ever marvel your serene eyes when I speak to you. If I can ever watch you speak in your mystic tone and pretend to be all ears but actually stay lost in the depth of your eyes.  If I can ever have you whisper to me your desires and allow you the liberty to discover mine. You're so far away from me.  Farther than eternity. The only semblance I have of you are your letters. The words in them are like imprints of your expressions parceled and sent my way for being treasured forever. I often practice a deception on myself, to evade the agony of not being near you, by telling myself that you are as near me as the letters of you words. But everytime I run my fingers on them, I only find glass.

   I know now that you're a strong woman and you don't require support. Honestly that is a bit disheartening. It's like bitter gain. Though I'm proud that my beloved is strong, but the fact that she doesn't require any caring, kind of renders my existence in her life meaningless. I secretly wish that may you always need love and caring and that I'd be always around to shower them on you.  

 I'll now tell you the words which came to me when I began to know you and when I first saw you.

My love, have you ever been bedazzled over and over again ? Like now by a particular admirable facet of someone's nature and concluded  that you're fortunate to have a person with such attribute and then to your utter sweet surprise discover another  part  which is equally remarkably suited to your yearnings. I'll explain. After the first time we spoke, I felt an intense longing to converse with you all the time. Like I was waiting since millennia for you to liberate me with your words. You did. I was intensely drawn to you. Then came your description of me. That sealed my fate, in a way beyond my deepest reckoning. Our little disagreements made me want you further. And that was when I saw your picture. 

The first thing that filled my eyes were your lips. They seemed pink, with affection sealed in them, full, complete, ready to give inimitable pleasure to the one that's destined to feel them. I sensed that they also carry a burden. I looked deeper into them, waited for some more time, outweighing their patience to hide what they didn't want to show to fleeting passers by. I wanted to prove to them I wasn't one. And then I saw  on them the weight of silence, the marks of words which often return from their edges instead of being delivered to the world through them. I instantly wanted to kiss your lips. To drink away their burden, to unfetter them, to relieve them into the freshness of the world - to release them from all weights and shackles. It is my wish to one day see your lips in peace, simply resting against each other, lazying, when they are not performing any command to speak, smile, laugh or frown.

 Striding further, my eyes caught your chin. Your chin, I gather, holds the ultimate invitation. Its like a unignorable projection of your magnetism. It truly remains with the onlooker, making him powerlessly fancy things. It's where exactly a man must keep his lips when he is cuddling up with you after.... It would keep him ever fond. Your eyes, they are half shut because of the naughty - sweet smile that you have made us happy with. I can only wonder how they'd look when they are not stressed. I wonder what desires they would transmit forth, what mysteries they will intrigue me with. I wish to see your eyes when you are happy, when you are expressive, when you are not happy and ultimately when you experience the feeling of belonging to someone. 

What I could not also miss were your fingers. They are so orderly, so neat, so fragile. I'm instantly filled with a burning jealousy for anyone who has ever slid his fingers on yours or anyone who will ever do that in future. I fancy the weight of your featherly palm when you'd caress someone. The blurred yet distinct bracelet that dangles on your slender wrist, looks beautiful on you. Interestingly you have worn black and I know it's your favourite colour. Bottomline - It really seems meant for you. Looks perfect. I quickly visualize and guess that white - pure and unblemished white, would also look breathtaking on you. Your hair, as I had guessed is faultless - shining black and straight. I may be mistaken about its exact colour, since I'm looking at your picture,  They cascade like streams from the firmament right on your shoulders, caressing them, guarding your attractive face like twin warriors. Their parting above your temple is picture perfect. By habit of mind, I instantly imagine how they must look when teased by a wild breeze, playfully tossing around your beautiful face. 

My eyes tantalizingly seek their path through your lean neck and they plead to travel all the way down the enticing neighbourhood south. But I comfort them by telling it isn't time yet. We agree to leave that fortune to the privileged soul whom you'd delight with your company.


Thursday, 6 February 2014


Oh, the trials and tribulations
and I thought it was serene
the queries and the doubts
were what snubbed the feeling

it was sudden to go

as it was when it came
such was the 'love'
Quick it struck in and out 

what i asked on approach

but what was given in a touch
love deceives too
Blinds to the obvious and blinds the search

like a torrid dream

a whirlpool of wishes
now trusting and next losing
vanished like it was never there 

each asked the other

what of the cozy words
promises of being one
in good and bad

the hours that never passed
suddenly ceased to last
the company that be missed
no more difficult to do away with

Hey lovelorn !! the answer never lied

where it was searched
Know this - what seems like love
the purpose may not always serve

Wednesday, 5 February 2014


Ah, the ever elusive Love
You may have all that you want
And find no stirring within

Yet find love for the

One that's impossible
In its becoming


They say I'm a Loner

Let me be alone
I can't handle company
For most who have loved me
Have had their hearts broken

Never did they know
That much prior
My own heart
Was in pieces

Tuesday, 4 February 2014



Deep into a solo voyage in the Indian Ocean, an unnamed man wakes to find his 39-foot yacht taking on water after collision with a shipping container left floating on the high seas. With his navigation equipment and radio disabled, the man sails unknowingly into the path of a violent storm. Despite his success in patching the breached hull, his mariner's intuition and a strength that belies his age, the man barely survives the tempest. Using only a sextant and nautical maps to chart his progress, he is forced to rely on ocean currents to carry him into a shipping lane in hopes of hailing a passing vessel. But with the sun unrelenting, sharks circling and his meager supplies dwindling, the ever-resourceful sailor soon finds himself staring his mortality in the face.

The film is a gripping, visceral and powerfully moving tribute to ingenuity and resilience.It'll change the way you look at things. Watch it.

"Robert Redford delivers a tour de force performance"
                                                                -  DEADLINE

"Scarier than anything in the perfect storm"
                                                           - ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY

                      - THE INDEPENDENT

             - THE WASHINGTON POST