Turning From Here

Take it away, I don't want it

Is this what it was meant to give?                

To bring in the end?

Such despair, such agony

Over things one cannot grip

Or stop their slipping away

Why does it hurt?

And so much

Why everything else falls behind

And promises crumble like ruins of time

Numbing strength of its blow

Painful than an agonizing dream

Let love never visit another heart 

In colours these grey 
Or have to part from it with grief

Take it away, I don't want it 

If this is what love is meant to give

Pledge

Pledge not heavens and moons 

Pledge not the hills and stars

Just hold me when I seek

And kiss my scars




















Picture Courtesy - dipity.com

Selfless

She pledged being by my side 

Forever and ever in dark and light 

In this world and the life above

She assured me 

Of her selfless love

Once in passing, just a mere musing

I pined   'In your lap I want to die'

She sprang -  .'How dare you ' she cried

'It's my right that before you, 

In my grave I shall lie '

I grinned bemused

For I saw glimpse of both

The truth and margins of her selfless love

Angel Eyes

Pranab frequented 'Sip' more than he consciously wanted to. His desperation to indulge in romance puppeteered his volition in arduous and often unabashed pursuance of that ambition. Pranab's visits had earned him the glorious distinction of a 'Royal Guest' in an eatery where perhaps one would only rarely find a second visitor of his age group. He stuck out like a sore thumb in the vibrant and juvenile gathering. But for the fact that waiters always kept hovering around Pranab, the guests would have found out his motives. Most passed him off as someone related to the business of that eatery. It's a good thing that a clandestine scheme had been devised between Pranab and the floor manager of 'Sip' owing to his apparent customer loyalty. The waiters had been instructed to keep the table at the southern end of the lounge always available for the man. He was never to be returned for the lack of accommodation. That was the instruction.  Also the waiters of 'Sip' memorized Pranab's choices in the menu card like their bed time prayers. Ofcourse it had more to do with an edict of their immediate boss and a habitual repetition of the same servings, than any truth about the analogy 'Customer Is God'. In those countless times Pranab ordered the 'cappuccino', 'apple's ale' or 'grilled chicken sandwich', the waiters broke into hiss hiss disgusted by his repetition of the same old treat for his tongue every day, day after day.

"Sip" had bagged itself the niche of being the most visited frolic zone for youngsters of the near and far corners of the city. The distinction was not however equally welcome among elders of the town. All kind of foolhardy indulgences were heard of being encouraged inside the place. Be that as it may it held its pride for being an addiction among the adolescents of the town. It was often remarked by it's most avid admirers that one must personally visit the place and spend some moments there to get a real sense of why the place is such an incredible rage among teenagers. Pranab never cared about or met with those reasons. He had his own reasons. It was in many ways the most fundamental of all. He looked out for meeting some girl and befriending her, with no dubious intentions whatsoever. He considered himself purged of all evil motives, especially ones with which those boys in the darker parts of the eatery pecked away at the necks of their female companions.

The eatery had two distinct zones tailored to cater to the desires of its two 'most visiting' categories of guests. The bedazzling lighting buttressed by vibrant upholstery and airy spacing among the tables in the eastern part of the cafeteria, just around the entrance, made it the 'look -no-further' preference of the friendly gangs. They flocked there, treating it like some extension of their living rooms, with their legs mostly not on the ground and their words mostly heard by even those to whom they were not spoken. Everyone moved beyond their personal grudges and remorse in the embrace of the enveloping aroma of the bakery. Much unlike the farther part of it where the lighting was near dark and the whole zone was cut off from the rest of the place by a huge wall of translucent glass, allowing partial imagery from the other side, just ample to tease one's imagination. The glass separation allowed it all the exclusivity that would suffice to entice pubescent hormones. They said that the ambience beyond it was euphoric forever. Glimpses of the alluring ecstasy stole its way out, the maddeningly loud decibels escaping everytime someone opened the glass doors. It'd gradually die down with the gradual closing of it. It was amazing how the two spots, sharing the same roof over their heads (not the ceilings for they were strikingly distinguishable from each other) shared nothing when it come to their purpose and their occupants.  

Pranab walked into 'Sip' on a Thursday morning, something which he never did. His homemade brunch was his favourite. He wore a fade proof smile. He drifted to his designated couch, simultaneously eyeing for promising tables. He noticed none. His grin left him like a disgruntled ally as he settled down. He closed his eyes and thought of his dream of dawn. He sat on the exact same chair where he was seated, staring  away at someone. Everytime he tried to make out who he was looking at, a power cut would ensure that everything turned to blinding dark. Power would resume the moment he would turn his head somewhere else. This went on for an uncomfortably long time before he saw two people walk out hand in hand. By the moment he was summoned by his senses to the real world he had managed to discern a beaded bracelet on the girl's slender wrist which had the words ANGEL EYES embedded on it. The climax of his dream was the cause of his chivalrous smile. He'd been led by it to expect that it was a sign of soon to be found romance. The smile had of course faded when he'd noticed that 'Sip' was teeming with couples that day. He hadn't noticed carefully.

The table fork slipped out of his fidgety fingers and met the granite floor with head turning levels of clink clank, jumping on its four pointed tips and turning over its head and musically tossing itself around before it was finally disciplined by Pranab. When he resumed his seat he discovered that his fork had distracted many eyes. He quickly nodded his head gesturing at all of them, his wordless apology. As he was steadily shifting his pleading eyes from one table to another, unlike the usual fleeting glimpse he affords himself, that he saw her.

He was fairly surprised on having missed her the first time around when he'd surveyed the tables and their claimants. No one could miss noticing her even in the most congested throng swarming with distracting faces. Pranab was seated at about ten feet away from her just in the mid of her right and her north. She didn't seem to have noticed Pranab, much less his toddler gaze fixed on her. Pranab savoured the glimpse and sat stunned under her spell. He didn't mind. It wasn't easy to penetrate beyond the reflecting surface of the goggles she'd worn. Somehow he caught her as she blinked her dreamy eyes behind the transparent glares and with each blink something inside Pranab succumbed to her allure. She looked lost in some distant by gone land of fairies. Her gleaming hair cascaded on to her perfectly broad shoulders and lay collapsed like benevolent admirers swooning about her angelic face. When she closed her eyes momentarily, everything priceless turned worthless. He was fixated on her visages like a infant glued to the plastic spinning merry go round, suspended right on the top of his cradle He had no doubt that her face was the most unblemished formation of the Lord's hands. Her faultlessly carved nose ran for just the adequate length, before silently surrendering it's feet to the depths of her face. Her moist lips reminded him of unplucked fresh red berries in dew drenched gardens. For a moment he felt something gentle flutter inside him and challenge the calm of his heart. It made him weak.

Pranab guessed she must be averagely built, may even be petite. Her fingers seemed like unbloomed lotus petals, supple and fragile. Her nails were prominently polished in magenta and portruded non menacingly from her fingers, a feature he hadn't seen about many girls. As his eyes roved along her contours and were on their way to her heaving bosom, they were distracted instead, by glimpse of a  open book on her table, besides the other usual lady stuff. She kept reading its pages and looking at the glass walls over at the entrance in alternate turns. She did it in infinite pattern. Pranab was amused. He wondered. What precisely was she doing ? May be she was learning by heart something for her exams, or memorizing vereses of her favourite poem. She did it in such kiddish fashion that Pranab found himself giggling, something he was not accustomed to doing in 'Sip'. She put her index fingers pin pointedly at the words and glided it across the page row by row,every page. Pranab was rapt by her elementary mannerism. He had been lured to inadvertently break out of his self imposed grave disposition, A smile had long dropped by and remained hung to his lips. Pleasantly startling the staff of 'Sip' who had concluded that their place of employment and Pranab ji's joys were mutually exclusive naturally doubtful therefore of his intentions behind his unusually recurring visits to their restaurant.

His eyes were keenly anticipating her next move. The palpable curiosity in them, was like that of a twelve year old. God knows what she read. A glittering smile consumed her face which in turn infused in Pranab such ethereal bliss that he was transported heavens apart in a moment and in the next, pulled back by her magnetism. Pranab sat charmed just like he'd figured he would be, on his first encounter with the fairy from his treasured fable, one whom he secretly planned to marry and make his beloved wife. The waiter in maroon costume brought her a glass of fizzy carbonated liquid teeming with restless bubbles, eager to swim up to the brim and find their freedom. The waiter didn't stop to take her gratitude but simply turned and marched away. The girl slowly moved her hands in the direction where the glass had been placed without taking her left hand off the pages she seemed to be engrossed in. All along she kept her eyes shut and chanted something. It all seemed weird.

Her cellphone began to buzz aloud. Thrice, four times, six times. She didn't pick it. The ring died. It rang again within seconds. Her hands didn't leave the surface of the pages. Pranab was getting restless. A waiter passed by and Pranab caught hold of him and commanded pointing his finger at the girl 'Could you please tell the lady over there that her phone is ringing ? The man resumed his erect posture and exclaimed with spotless politeness 'Sorry Sir, Can't do that...can't disturb her like that.

'Can't you see, she is not picking up her phone.

 I think Sir, maybe she doesn't want to take the call.'

'What ? Are you kidding me ? She's in a restaurant, chilling out, why wouldn't she take a simple call ? ' Pranab shot back in purposeful tone.

'I wouldn't know why Sir'  exclaimed the poor waiter

'Well then just go tell her and we'll find out'

'Sorry Sir. I don't think I can do that'

'Alright I get it' Pranab remarked with a half grin and reached for his wallet. He forked out a twenty and pushed it right into the hand of the waiter, whose palm had by now fully blossomed for receiving the nourishment it sought.

After offering a bow of obligation, the man went straight to the table where the unsuspecting lady was lost in her own world of words, and spoke to her. She didn't budge. She was simply seen making some serious facial expressions followed by some rapid movement of lips. The waiter was struck with nervousness and scampered away, not to be seen anymore. Poor Pranab could not even know what was happening. She wasn't raising her head from the 'God Knows What' book she was drowned in, she wouldn't take her calls and even won't look at the glass when she drank the blue liquid inside it. Pranab decided to himself unravel the mystery. He got up and began walking towards the washroom. She was settled on a table en route to the loo. He planned to steal a swift glance at the book. He had a good twelve feet to cover before he crossed her table. Just when Pranab had reached midway, she shut her eyes again letting out a steady gasp right from the depths of her lungs and began sinking back in the chair, her spinal frame falling towards the wooden support. In a lateral movement of hand she flipped the hardbound cover of the book and closed it in one go.

'Damn', a frustrated Pranab murmured to himself as he crossed her seat exasperated. He caught her fragile musk laden fragrance. It spread in his veins like a rising ecstasy. He strolled away hastily on his path.

Fiercely committing himself to the task of starting a conversation with her, Pranab strode out of the washroom. He'd spent a good fifteen minutes before the mirror in there, choosing and picking from the innumerable introductory expressions that he knew of. Nothing had changed about the lady. She sat embraced by the same enticing aura about her.

Pranab summoned one of the attendants and instructed him to serve the lady with a glass of their best mocktail. He specially instructed him to make it visually enticing. He thought of the colorful glass of whatever she was having a little while ago. He also tutored him to politely point at him and hand over the piece of paper to the lady if she wanted to know who bought her the drink.

Off went the waiter. He was trembling. It was his first day on job and to add to that this tricky deal. In five minutes he returned with a frosty glass of orange colored fluid with tits and pieces of yellow solids floating on the brim besides a diced lemon eating the rim of the glass. A rainbow like straw bobbed up and down the mocktail as the waiter lifted it off the tray and courteously placed it for being savoured.

There was no response. The waiter stood dumbfounded waiting for his cue. He could not decide whether to stay or leave after saying 'Enjoy your drink'. How about giving away the piece of paper anyway ? ' he thought. How would it alter the scheme of things ? he feared and stopped.

What's this ? the lady asked without even opening her eyes.

'That's your drink Ma'm. Sent over by the gentleman over there' came the waiter's reply as he turned around to slightly raise his finger towards Pranab.

Pranab's fingers were restless to gesture a 'Hi'. That would happen as soon as she would turn about, under the guidance of the attendant. That moment never came. The waiter stole a glance at him and sought his order regarding the scrap of paper. Pranab signaled at him and he placed the neatly folded piece on the table and walked away. Pranab looked on, as she neither touched the condensing walls of the glass nor inched her fingers towards the note which was fluttering in the breeze waiting to elope with it from under her ignorance to some place better. Pranab was flabbergasted at the inexplicable non chalance of a seemingly decent lady who'd just been shown a gesture of interest by a man. He would have considered himself fortunate if she would have responded invitingly, but admittedly he was expecting  resentment, some resistance, at least. She didn't even care to read the note which he'd sent along. Pranab decided that he must approach her personally. May be she doesn't believe in indirect propositions, he convinced himself before hand pressing his tousled hair and rectifying creases on his shirt. He got up nervously.

Lost in scheming Pranab didn't notice that a man, about his age, had come up to her. He bent over her table and began picking up her articles. Pranab saw him plant a gentle kiss on her head and take her hand in his. Pranab froze. They began slowly walking out of the restaurant. A speechless Pranab followed their leaving figures like a statue with roving eyes. The moment they stepped out, Pranab noticed that the woman slipped her hand out of the man's grip and pulled out a pair of dark glasses and put it over her eyes replacing the transparent goggles. A moment later she took out a steel rod and stretched it to full length. She began walking beating the rod on the path, partly announcing her movement and partly making out her way forward. Every time the man would extend his hand to guide her, she'd gently shove it away, claiming her independence despite her torment, though unable to make him give up. Ultimately, the man began to walk by her side, step by step, like a silent shadow, eagerly guarding her from any hardship that might fall on her way. Colour faded from Pranab's face

One of the senior attendants, who had been witnessing the whole event, walked up to Pranab and interrupted his thoughts

'Sir, She can't see.'

'What ?' Pranab broke out of his contemplation. 'Yeah'

'Her name is Kamla. The man is her fiance'.

A startled Pranab gaped at the waiter.

'Amazing. Isn't it ? They met at this place a year ago. Matters moved fast. They do when feelings are mutual, don't they ? Mr. Shantanu proposed to marry her exactly a month ago. She lost her eye  in a fire that broke out in her office. She surely lost quite a few things with her eyes. Love wasn't one of them.'

They have been coming since a year. Why the heck didn't I ever see them ? probed an aghast Pranab.

Your schedules never met, till today. replied the attendant.

Why the transparent goggles ? I mean why not the ones which she put on outside. Pranab queried out of perplexity.

Oh. That, Well, I had that figured out before anyone on the staff. 
It's because she doesn't want anybody to know about her handicap. She obviously doesn't want anyone's pity. She wants to live as normally as she can.. She doesn't want those unsuspecting vigorous noises around her to die out of sympathy for her.. Hence the normal goggles. the attendant explained with a warm smile

Someone yelled the waiter's name and he rushed off with the untouched glass of mocktail after shoving the small unopened note back into it's author's hand. Pranab unfolded it slowly. A smirk found its way to his lips as he read the words he'd scribbled for her.

It read 'Till this very moment I thought I knew who had the most beautiful eyes   :) '.



                                                                                       *************


"Angel Eyes" is a work of fiction and any resemblance in it, to any person (alive or dead), place or incident etc. if any, is only coincidental.

Nests

Before Prateik could slip back into the tranquil embrace of residual sleep after unloading his bladder, he heard a faint flapping noise coming from beyond one of the windows, the exactness of which he could not specify due to his numbed brain functioning. The repeated 'pphudd pphudd' - 'pphudd pphudd'  was a stranger among all the commonplace sounds and jingles that his ears were accustomed to at that time of the day. He tried to ignore them as figments of his fading reverie till they continued to occur in definite intervals, and grew from being 'slight' to  'loud' and 'communicative'.  With his dwindling dreams interrupted, Prateik lay on his bed neither fully asleep nor completely awake, his mind struggling in the pudding of misty glimpses of month old and recent occurrences. Nothing was definite and shapely except the distinct beating of what sounded like wings. In his residual capacity of reasoning, Prateik didn't fight his foggy mind as he considered it natural to fare badly at distinguishing the real from trance in the twilight of his senses. But all this thinking and weighing had long caused him awake.  He sat red eyed, grumbling and sulking on his ruffled bed sheet, with his back couched, his hair all tousled from  unfriendly treatment. He picked up a pillow and slammed it against another in sheer resentment of having to get up and go. Just then he heard it again. Only this time it was so prominent and ominous that it could have kicked anybody out of his slumber. He hastily slipped out of the quilt and treaded through his dark room to check out its source.

Prateik's room was one of the three large bedrooms of their house. His father had purchased the flat with financial assistance from his company, a couple of years ago. On the southern facade of 'Skyline Towers', it remained sandwiched between the four floors above and the five below it. Besides boasting of spacious interior and well aired bed rooms it came with an exceptionally large living room and the usual two bathroom - kitchen - balcony combination. The balcony attached to Prateik's bedroom opened into the western end of their city where not far from their apartment, a large mangrove spanned the town's limits. It housed the nests of all birds known to their bustling town. For a grove, where no human dwelled anywhere withing a one kilometer radius, it was an awfully busy place with birds of all shapes and sizes and colour flying in and out of it all the time. It remained drowned in a perpetual ambience of a local fair-ground.  It was often remarked by persons who walked by the mangrove during dusk that one had to literally yell to make himself heard to another because of the intervening cacophony of bird conversation, that emerged from the uncountable trees at the grove, that could put to shame their local Sunday morning fish market. But for strange causes, the pigeon families of their town, it would seem,  invariably chose man made terraces and rooftops to build their nests despite the availability of a natural, communal alternative.

When Prateik flung open the door to the balcony, the unadulterated dawn air, a rarity of his times, filled his breathe with optimism. It drifted him away from the inevitable morning gloom. Howsoever challenging and dreary a night may be, he thought to himself, the breeze born of the dawn rekindles all hopes and rejuvenates one to embrace the day ahead, displacing all fear and doubts instilled through the reticent darkness. Prateik stood hypnotized for a while breathing in the freshness to his contentment, treating the air like some abstract enrichment, tightly shutting his eyes and slowly letting his smile return to his face. The magic of mornings. He recalled his grandfather's sermon 'My child, practice waking up early in the morning, possibly before sunrise and see the magic'. At that very instance, Prateik couldn't agree more with his dear departed grandpa. It was a good thing that chivalry had returned to his mood. He recalled the task at hand and walked up to the edge of the balcony

He craned his neck over the parapet. After a few failed attempts he finally caught sight of the nest of pigeons. As soon as his eyes met with that of one its dweller, the flapping stopped. There was another one ducking its head just below it. The latter was caught alarmed by Prateik's peeping face. It stood frozen, with its wings spread, semi flapped, and stunned. It cautiously folded back its wings and started bobbing its head with unusually grave eyes as if probing Prateik for his rudeness of having invaded upon their privacy. It suddenly took to its wings. One look at Prateik's harmless eyes, and it must have dismissed Prateik's presence as being inconsequential. The other sat where it was. It stood up and began to move in circles besides making its characteristic brooding sound and springing its head back and forth like a seasoned break dancer. Its eye was fixated on Prateik, blinking at steady intervals. Prateik figured that he must get a good view of the nest. So he pulled himself back and went around the room to the other window to allow himself a proper view of the aerial abode. When he pushed open the window, he was amazed by what he witnessed. There it lay. A near perfectly constructed nest, with minutely chosen constituents, not too big nor too small, precisely tailored to fit into the structure. The innumerable twigs and leaves were stacked and arrayed under such calculation that it vouched for an enviable architectural brilliance of its builders. They were fitted against each other in perfect balance and they ended up leaving just the right amount of space and depth in the middle of the nest for ensuring the comfort of the family that was supposed to find it there.

The other pigeon returned in the mean time.  Prateik saw it drop something off its beak. It was then that he noticed that the nest was home to their full fledged family with even three tiny ones, tucked safely besides their mother, chirping away incessantly, hungrily eyeing the food that had just been hunted for them. The mother lowered the food into their beaks, who swallowed it instantaneously. Prateik  relished their antics for some time before retreating to his chores. This went on for a few days, before Prateik found himself nurturing a certain fondness for the family of pigeons. He even contemplated building a better shelter for them inside the coziness of the balcony, unexposed to the fury of nature.  On a rainy evening, Prateik joyfully discovered that at the first sight of danger, the family forthwith flew into the confines of his room. As they alighted at the corner of the highest shelf, their flapping reverberated through the tranquil of his home. Prateik was relieved to know that the pigeons knew where to fly in trouble. So he simply made sure that the shelf which they chose was ample with their necessities. Needless to say the simple headed birds were full of gratitude for Prateik's magnanimity. The mutual admiration they shared was impossible to escape one's eyes.

The images of the pigeons forever pulsated inside Prateik's head. He was even reprimanded once for his absent mindedness during lecture. As soon as the professor turned to face the white board, Prateik grinned with 'almost' pride, like a lover relishing the pain of his love. He couldn't wait to return home to his new found friends. He resorted to "google'' to know more about pigeons, their habitat, food and life cycle etc. He would travel kilometers to find particular kinds of seeds to feed the pigeon family. He fed them cooked rice, peas, carrot pieces, uncooked barley, cracked corn,and variety of other pigeon seed mixes. He read somewhere that garlic is very healthy for them. So Prateik stuffed small pieces of garlic in their food bowl once every week. He would pester his mother to separately prepare mixtures of specific seeds. She didn't complain.

Prateik cherished the transition of the three hoppers from squabs who squealed and squeaked for food all the while to grandly grown pigeons who displayed their utter fondness to spread their nouve' grown wings.  None of them wore any hesitation to hop into Prateik's affectionate grip. They seemed to relish the sliding of hands on their feathery backs and the planting of kisses on their beaks. Prateik even indulged in light hearted banter with the pigeons, especially when one of them would be busy searching for balance on his shoulder. Their civic sense had startled everyone. They never soiled the place arbitrarily. They had chosen the most unvisited corner of the terrace to empty themselves. Instances of continuous droppings gave the spot a uniquely patterned appearance, painted with white, black and grey. So much so that from the highest point of their building nobody could say that it was a place where pigeons dropped their dirt and not some artist's abstract manifestation.

One day it rained so heavily that the pigeons swiftly switched to their safety refuge on the top shelf inside Prateik's bedroom. Prateik saw the restless frames of his beaked buddies. They were probably dealing with anxiety, he thought to himself. All throughout the night, Prateik, heard their wings flapping, their beaks brushing against their own fidgety feathers. On other days when the sun was not particularly kind in its task, the pigeons would come hopping near to the pitcher full of water, that Prateik would have kept for them, and dip their beaks numerous times before flying satiated. Sometimes they brought along friends. Just like Prateik did. He didn't mind as long as his friends were content. He also kept a warm gunny bag on the shelf for times when they flew in to evade extreme weather.

Prateik's friends were always afforded the exquisite honour of being introduced to his winged buddies. As he described the behaviour, likes and dislikes of each, the birds would stare at the guests in absolute oblivion of the purpose of their meeting. If any of the two legged made advances, the pigeons were prompt to communicate their utter disinclination for socializing with humans, except of course with their host. It would then take a purposeful intensity filled cajoling and caressing for Prateik to make them somewhat affable.

Haldar the brat of their neighbourhood took upon himself the inexplicable task of uprooting the pigeon's nest from its place. He would indulge in stone pelting from the ground, aiming high at the nest as its inmates gazed in sheer wonder at the solid objects flying past them, sometimes dangerously close. Haldar never took into account the risk of hitting Prateik's window pane and smashing it. That was exactly what had happened on a Thursday morning. Prateik ensured that the scoundrel got a solid treatment from his stern father. The pelting stopped thereafter and life returned to normalcy inside the nest. There had come to exist a deep wordless bond between Prateik and the pigeons. He stared at them for hours without exhaustion or boredom. He made an effort to befriend them and won their trust. They felt no danger from him and moved about freely in his presence.

A month later Prateik's customary, week long, vacation - visit to his maternal grandfather's house far away in another state became due. That meant a week without the pigeons. A part inside him yearned to take the birds along. But he knew that wouldn't happen. On the day before he was to leave for the excursion, he and the birds brooded together for several unending moments. There were deep and profound messages being exchanged. Out of the blue, one of the pigeons hopped close to Prateik and stayed near his hands which he had rested on the railing of the balcony. Prateik lifted it up and slowly let it be on his shoulder where it cautiously budged near to his head and stayed their for what seemed till eternity. The moment Prateik would try to hold her to bring her down, it would start to vigorously beat its wings in a show of protest. To an eye unfamiliar with the development of their rapport, that would make no difference but to Prateik it was a crystal gesture of deep bonding and affection that he and the pigeons had together come to cherish. The next morning he was tucked in their "Omni' van and was gone.

He had kept three wide pitchers full of water. He had replaced the dirty old gunny with a brand new one which smelt of fresh jute. He even kept two shallow jugs brimming with water on the shelf,  as a temporary alternative, in case they couldn't fly out to quench themselves.

A week later, early in the morning, Prateik returned from Hyderabad full of share worthy reminiscence and he ran up the stairs as if he brought life changing news for his pigeons. Gasping for stale air of their long shut rooms, he plunged himself through the curtains and doors to unlock his bedroom. He could almost hear them making welcome sounds beyond it. As he pushed the door open he was greeted by an unmoved silence. It seemed unresponsive to his craving. Not like before, when upon his return from world's battlefield the whole ambience coordinated an act of warm welcoming full of breezes intruding through the gaping windows and the joyous vocals of his airborne pals. The silence was scary. Nothing  broke it.  Neither the characteristic pphudd pphudd  of wings nor the distinctive suppressed vocal booms. In what seemed like a panic move, Prateik made a dash to the balcony and peeped out just the way he had that dawn. He saw the nest and heaved with relief. He didn't find the pigeons there or on the shelf in his room. They must be out for food, he thought to himself.

Once after his shower, and thrice between his breakfast and lunch, Prateik rushed back and forth, on to his balcony and made quick trips to the terrace. He couldn't get a trace of his pigeons. Dusk came and with it returned even the most nomadic bird. It was when his pigeons didn't come after sunset, it occurred for the first time to Prateik that his friends might have gone away for good. But the most convincing of logics often lay vanquished in their battle with faiths of heart. Especially in matters where man is sentimentally invested. There was no chance in heaven that Prateik wouldn't have spend atleast a painful and agonizingly long week, toying with the hope of their homecoming. Through those difficult days he sat facing the sun and the perplexed stares of neighbours, trying to identify his pals in the several flocks that would tantalize him by taking multiple flights around his vicinity. One such evening when he sat inside his room pointlessly staring at the world beyond his curtains, bemused at the turn of events, the sound of doorbell, knocked him out of his trance. His mother answered it. In a moment he found Haldar standing before his eyes.

For a couple of minutes, Prateik stood speechless, lost in the maze of guessing and counter guessing the purpose of the rogue's visit. Not a month ago this nincompoop was bent to raze the home of his  beloved friends and yet today he stood before him, looking him in the eye, filling him with misdirected rage for the loss of his pigeons. Then for a brief moment he was filled with humiliation thinking that, those for whom he had got this boy punished, had now abandoned him. And this fellow has probably come to spit his taunts on him.

What ? Prateik spat at Haldar.

'Prateik bhaiya, I've got to tell you something'

I hope its not one of your stupid jokes because I'm in no mood for it.

No no. Its about your pigeons.

What about them ?

Well, a couple of days after you left for Hyderabad a terrible storm lashed this place. And...

'And...?'

"..I only saw two of them desperately beating themselves against your room's closed windows before my mother pulled me inside.'

Prateik was devastated. A pang of guilt stung his heart and brimmed him with terrible remorse.  His own callousness was too much for him to take. He clenched his fists in sheer hatred for his own self. He swallowed a rising scream. He wondered over and over, How could he be so naive to have shut the windows of his room and leave his pigeons helpless.

 'Oh !! how the poor birds must have struggled to fly inside to safety from that gale. Oh !! How shocked and cheated they must have felt  then. They deserve better than me, he thought to himself and  reconciled to the consequence of his negligence.

Sinking back in his chair, he thanked Haldar for the information, dismissed him and closed his eyes. The picture of the anguished & hapless family of pigeons flying scared in that stormy evening tormented him for days. He could not stop imagining all their miseries in the storm and their clueless eyes perplexed at their unannounced abandonment.  It must have been such distress for them. Prateik was drowned in the layers of his shame for days.

One spring evening later, as Prateik was reluctantly unlocking his room on his return from his customary trip to  Hyderabad, he was filled with unabated guilt which had taken shelter in his soul. He was choked with flashes from that afternoon and the anxious days that followed. His heart sank again. He hated the feeling and wanted to get over it quickly. He didn't walk over to see the forsaken nest. He no more was in the habit of peeping out of the parapet of his balcony to check on it. It was unnecessary and pointless. Nobody lived there and the last time he checked it (accidentally) while he was watering the plants on his terrace, he saw it in tatters bereft of any signs of life about it. He threw himself on his bed after he turned on his antique ceiling fan which swung to life in its characteristic creaky fashion. Just when he was about to succeed in moving his mind beyond the pigeons, something familiar struck his ears. At first his mind rejected the urge for guessing anything about that sound that symbolized lost bonds. But then its familiarity was too obvious to be passed off uninquired.

With long lost vigour, Prateik ran towards the balcony, stumbling upon chairs and table legs en route to the parapet. His heart raced as he strained his neck and slowly pushed his head forward peeping over the parapet. Suddenly he reconsidered for a better view and ran around.

It was from the other window that he saw it.

Not only the original nest stood rebuilt, two new ones, constructed  in characteristic perfection, now hung in its company. Two lushly feathered pigeons cuddled in each of them. There were eggs too. It didn't take him long to spot on their legs the threads which he had tied on the legs of the three kid pigeons  Two more came and alighted just near his hands near the window grill. A wide grin adorned Prateik's already beaming face. He ran out to the balcony and so flew both. One of them nibbled at his palm. He picked it up and put it on his shoulder where it budged near to his head and brushed its tiny soft head against his neck. The message was impossible to miss. Prateik whispered back ' I promise I would never ever do it again'. With his wet eyes reflecting the somber sunset, he felt the weight of age upon him in the company of his aged buddies, even though he was only twenty one. Just then the excited young pigeons fluttered out of the nest in a team.

They would return soon, the three of them reckoned, as they saw the flying pigeons' soaring frames dwindle away into the sunset


                                                                                                      ***********

"Nests" is a work of fiction and any resemblance in it, to any person (alive or dead), place or incident etc. if any, is only coincidental.

ADIEU

 A short video I made some time back. 

 IT CAPTURES THE ASSORTED EMOTIONS THAT COME ATTACHED WITH LOVE & BREAK UP. IT'S BASED ON THE CHART BUSTER SONG "SOMEBODY THAT I USED TO KNOW" BY GOTYE FROM HIS ALBUM "MAKING MIRRORS". 

Yaaron

My short video dedicated to the beauty of friendship & love.

Based on the hit song "Yaaron" by K.K. (O.S.T.- Rockford)

Here's Wishing my dear readers a Very Happy Friendship Day !!!! Hope everyone basks in the inimitable joys of friendship and discovers ever lasting love.

Infinite Reflections

(This story, though a work of fiction, is inspired by my delightful experiences with a new found friend. For most part of it, this narration is fictional, but at the same time it rests on the edifice of the joy that I felt as I passed through successive stages of discovery of startling similarities of my beliefs, character and vision which I shared with this friend of mine. I lament over the lack of  my proximity with this person. I wish that someday we would be able to overcome it and explore face to face, the joy of each other's company)

Rajesh was travelling back home in the Rajdhani Express after a ceaseless tenor of assignment handling at his Delhi office. He was seated at berth A1 / 17. This is where he met Rashmi who was settled just in front of him. There was no else in their neighbouring berths. The purchasers of those seats were probably due to board  the train in subsequent stoppages.The train had already begun rolling on its tracks when Rashmi greeted Rajesh with a warm "Hi". "Hello !! How are you doing ?" came Rajesh's blase reply. She immediately followed up with "I'm doing good. How about you ?." 'Fine' said Rajesh. They let it remain at that. The 'Rajdhani' had now begun running at considerable speed. Rajesh noticed how difficult it was to keep looking at relatively nearer objects outside the window because they seemed to have found lightning legs. It was however less strenuous to observe things farther away. Rajesh wondered as to how after travelling numerous times in train and having witnessed this phenomenon each of those times, he hasn't yet developed an indifference towards the whole fun of "looking at things running past the train".

 'No matter how many times I sit inside a train, I just don't seem to get enough of watching people and things zooming past the train window as it speeds away !, exclaimed Rashmi.

Startled out of his thoughts Rajesh bubbled 'Hey. I was just thinking that exact same thing.'

'Really ?!'

'Yes'

'I have been doing train trips since I was 15. More than a decade of train travel and I'm yet to get bored of it.' reiterated Rajesh.

'I agree. It is one of the several inimitable joys of travelling by train.' Rashmi added as she ripped a packet of Spanish Tomato flavoured Lays wafer chips and offered Rajesh to pick a few out of it. He ruffled his fingers inside the packet and took out a few. Both simultaneously realized that they had not formally introduced themselves to each other. Rajesh acted first and told her his name and disclosed that he was a lawyer returning home on vacation. Rashmi didn't say anything other than her name. Rajesh curiously queried about her occupation. "Irritating mankind" came her reply. Both broke into fits of laughter laughing more than each actually meant to. They quickly went back to the mutual discovery path. 'No seriously. What do you do for a living ?" asked Rajesh again. " Seriously nothing. I am a student, so I am living on my father's earnings, for the time being." She uttered the last four words with emphasis indicating clearly that she wanted to work and earn for herself one day.

'What do you study?" Rajesh continued.

'Mass Communication'

'Ok'

Quietness returned between them with only the sound of a chugging train providing perpetual music to ears. Pretending to look at something else Rajesh was pondering over Rashmi's easygoing body language. She appeared to be full of chirpiness with an open mind and in all likelihood was due to surprise him with her candour. Rashmi, who was no less an observer of men and their ways herself, dwelled on her own analysis of Rajesh's personality. So far he had struck him as someone thoughtful and gentleman like. But both agreed in their respective minds that it's too early to opine, yet continued with that irresistible human nature of being judgmental.

"You know, I deliberately evade travelling by airplane." Rashmi informed Rajesh. "I simply love moving in trains."

"I have the same opinion. What's a journey if it ended in no time, didn't take its toll on your muscles and bones, and didn't leave lasting memories on the way. A train can be a perfect setting for all of these to happen, may be more."

'Totally. An airplane can be confining in certain ways, in which a train isn't." concurred Rashmi.

"Have you ever taken a road trip ?" Rashmi asked with an unconcealed excitement, hinting at how much she had enjoyed the experience when she had been part of one. Before Rajesh could answer her question, Rashmi confessed her sudden realization of how inconsiderate she had been about Rajesh's privacy and told him that it was in her nature to get carried away with conversations like these. Rajesh smiled and assured her of his genuine interest in their little talk. But Rashmi wouldn't give up until she had earned a promise from him whereunder he will have to ask her to shut up and leave him alone if he ever felt that she was going overboard. With obvious reluctance Rajesh gave her his promise and thus way was made for the return of the topic. 'Go on.' Rashmi reminded Rajesh, now seated in the lotus position with both her legs up on the seat exactly how she used to sit when her dear grandpa used to narrate ghost stories.

"Yes I have been on road trips, several of them and I have in me embedded the memories of each one of them."  'Tell me more' pleaded Rashmi. "Well, a road trip for me is like a journey of discovery. You tend to discover so many facets to your personality in its course that the expedition becomes worthwhile. On every road trip that I took, I ended up exploring a new side of me, each time, which I would have probably never  found out otherwise. That's why I shall never get over their memories." When he was finished he realized that Rashmi was lost in thoughts, though it was his face she stared at. 'What about you ?' asked Rajesh. "Yes, I have memories too" she answered in between pauses. 'Tell me something interesting that happened with you over a road trip." she beamed. 

'Well, once me and two of my friends started out for a place called Damana which is supposed to be about forty of forty five kilometres away from our hometown. It was more of a a get away trip. But we got lost in the jungles and ended up hundred kilometres away from our place with dwindling fuel and limited purse. It took us our combined street smartness and persuasiveness to win back our way home. Before that I didn't know how I would ever react in a situation like that. But not only I did react, but I did so with conviction and intelligence, of course with a considerable luck playing its role in the whole affair." Taking a cue from him Rashmi began "I can totally visualize your experience, because I have been in a similar one myself. Once when we got lost on our way back from another town, my friends were literally shivering in anxiety. I had to  get hold of my wits, handle their fears, and go asking for directions from person to person, whoever I found on the way, fighting my inner fears and those piercing stares of strangers in a strange place. I had to wear a confidence akin to my mother's and search out the right way back. Till today I am secretly proud of that incident." Rashmi confessed gleefully.

'You  should be.' exclaimed Rajesh.

'You said you are on the road a lot, doesn't your girlfriend complain ?"

"I don't have one"

"Nice"

"Meaning ?"

"Sorry, that was myself I was speaking for. I have strategically avoided romance because I honestly don't think I'm pre marriage romance material." Their conversation began assuming cozier proportions. "Well have you ever tried to test it ?" Rajesh enquired with a certain calmness which suggested he knew that a 'No' was coming as her answer. She had already struck him as too carefree and independent for nurturing the demanding bonds of a romantic relationship. "Kisko time hai yaar..itna sab test karne ke liye, jab hoga tab dekha jayega" (Where's the time for so many tests, I'll think about it after it happens") came her reply. Rashmi was now in her usual self, devoid of all courteous pretensions she had been tutored to portray, by serious people whom she had been around. It didn't change her affability. She was joy personified. Not holding back, not cautious or conscious. She let words flow like water from a dam opened. Yet everything she spoke made sense. She spoke incessantly yet never lost authority over what she said and meant. At some point during their tireless exchange of thoughts they had discovered their respective ages. Rajesh had been born five years before Rashmi. 

Rajesh was nodding in agreement through her speech. He too explained how he has never been in a relationship of that sort and yet never missed being in one. He told her how being alone was important for him to grow as a person but quickly stated that it was his personal opinion and not necessarily the same for everyone. Consenting with what he had said Rashmi supplemented him by saying that people like her are too difficult to be tolerated by any one. Her inclinations for solitude, her unconventional take on matters of life could be easily suffocating for someone not matching up to those expectations. "I could not have agreed more with what you just said" declared Rajesh. He clarified that he was not against romance or relationship per se and even considered them to be potentially blissful events that could occur in one's life, but somehow he did not know the art of balancing them out with other of his interests. Now by all means these were shortcomings that were supposed to be causes of concern, but Rajesh and Rashmi seemed to have forgotten that and were instead focused on how they were alike in that aspect. They found ground to rejoice amidst deficiencies. That's what clicked between them, throughout their chat.

Suddenly Rashmi pulled out her diary and started to scribble something while seeming to hum those words she wrote. "Are we done ?" Rajesh teased at her unannounced exit from their tete -a - tete. "Hang On Buddy. I'm doing this for you."

"Doing what ?"

"Show some patience will you ? " shot back Rashmi.

"All Right All Right" he said raising both his hands and sank back onto his seat's backrest.

In a matter of minutes, Rashmi shoved her diary at him and asked him to read it. "Ah. Poetry !!" he exclaimed at first glance. It was a lovely little sonnet she had penned about their meeting and their subsequent discovery of mutual compatibility and she had finished it in about five minutes. When Rajesh was through with the poem, he asked for her pen and started rhyming his own words on her diary just below where she had written her poem. Rashmi read his poem and exclaimed how beautiful his poetry was. "Don't know about poetic skills but we definitely make one great 'Mutual Appreciation Society'. Rajesh blurted in between giggles. Then they started again. Rajesh got engrossed in Rashmi's deliberations. They talked about life, love, trains, birds, teachers, friends, parents, dreams, quarrels, death, comedy, cinema and what not. To their utter excitement, they found common ground to stand on each topic they discussed. Both had realized that. They were relishing that commonality between them. They had missed the pantry boy asking them for their lunch / dinner orders, couple of passengers boarding the train and perching above their heads on the upper berths, the Train Ticket Examiner slapping penalty on a near seated passenger and all the commotion that followed. They had lost sense of time and missed the coming of dusk. They missed the grins, usually invited by such conversations.

"There's something I want to show you" said Rajesh and started digging through his belongings. He pulled out two books which he had purchased at the railway station. He waved them with a smile and said "I don't regret not being able to read them" indicating how much he enjoyed talking to her. Rashmi smiled back nodding her head as if she meant to say 'I don't believe this' and too pulled out a couple of books from her baggage and flashed them at Rajesh. Both of them had bought books and not read them but neither lamented over it despite both being avid readers. The kept looking at each other, thinking, in all likelihood, the same things. For they were so similar, like reflections of each other. Adolescent thoughts started creeping into Rajesh's head but he prevented them from going any further down. He identified his feelings as natural in the present circumstances. How else does one expect his heart and mind to react when he finds such harmonizing accompaniment, that too in the form of the opposite sex. Of course Rashmi was thinking something else. Her thoughts were confined to the sheer gladness that swept her heart on having met Rajesh, for the kind of person he was. Both thought that they complimented each other so remarkably. Whatever she spoke, Rajesh was effortlessly drawn into her dimensions and vice versa. They were born to be friends.

Just then the T.T.E. came and in a tone of habit asked for their tickets. That broke them out of their contemplation. While unfolding the ticket from his shirt pocket Rajesh spoke softly "I cannot express how delighted I am on having met you. I am failing to pick an analogy which could justify our rapport...." When he looked up again at Rashmi he found an enlightened smile adorning her beautiful face. Clearly she had found those words. He waited for those to come out of her mouth. She said wearing her unforgettable smile "This is what happens when you put two mirrors before each other, there are infinite reflections." . The lights of all the nearby compartments were turned off, in quick succession, by their occupants except for those of A1 / 17 and 19. They continued to illuminate the reflections of their occupiers for the rest of the night.

                                                                  ***********

("Infinite Reflections" is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person (alive or dead), place or incident is only coincidental.)

My Friend & His Daughter

Sweetie,


Long have I waited to see you smile & cuddle up and sigh,
That look on your face tells it all;
That I'm lucky I can make you feel safe
When I see you 'morrow goin' away from home
Schools, friends, here and there

I'll sweat like a kid like I never 've anywhere;
Just le'mme know anything you need - 
Anything... I swear I'll be with you in mind and deed


...........


Le'me now tell you something which I feel father,
Feels so warm and unseparable so secure
That I know You'll be there to cheer me up 
When I have failed even the best of your wishes
That only you'll be there like a shadow to me
When I'm lonely and alone and I've none to guide me.


                                                                                       Anupam


(Dedicated to my bro & friend Anand Raja Das and his daughter (see pic.)