Feathering on the couch as i lay,
Relishing the movie on air.
Ignited the passionate love in me,
Enthused by the scenes that flared.

Nailed by the script as it flowed,
Dealing the real in imaginary.
Seduced by the romance in awe,
Hushed by climax that had me.

Incidently a brown bug I saw,
Pair of wings how fast it flew.
Flying in the proximity as it did,
Randomized my curiousity avid.

I sprang off the sofa in dizzy,
Enervated in unsettled faze;
Napping its blow, its sting;
Drove me out of the ring in rage.

Scared a little, a little composed;
Heroically I reconciled my fears;
I fenced with the newspaper sword;
Penetrating its buzz.. interpreting WORDS

FRIENDSHIP !! FRIENDSHIP !!  Is all I seek..

***

This is inspired by a true incident; today, when I was sitting on my sofa enjoying a romantic flick, just when a bee invaded my privacy, my tranquility.. I was horrified at first, then as if I realised, that it wanted not to harm, but befriend me, so that we enjoy the movie together  I wanted to write something different for this prompt, so I thought this would do.. Dunno if it fits.. 

This  Acrostic is written for Acrostic Only, run by sweet Amias

कण क्षण झिलमिल
रात में तारे,
पुलकित हर्षित,
सुबह पुकारे !!

***

I dedicate this to Sanjeevani, who kept asking again and again, why I didnt post this for so long now.

***

Pleased by a flower, praying for the shower,
As it dances proudly by the sun;
It longs and pines for the sky and earth,
Nursing them to be one!

In its endeavour to savage the extremes;
Struggles to fancy its most cherished dream.

An outcry of rage in thunder and pain,
Debating its point but dissolving in rain.

Deceived at times.. Denied desires respite;
It wonders what feelings to chose,
Celebrate its outpour or cry inspite.

Tortured, tormented in agony and pain.
It sings.. Bleeds.. Like a rockstar SHINES.
Vents its spleen in throttled restrain.
End this is not.. Soon.. It will come again!!

PAIN IS ADDICTIVE!!!

***

The story of a cloud, in its earnest industrious endeavor, to date the sky and earth at once… only to realise, it needs one more try may be.. As it showers the entire mankind with its LOVE, losing its own identity in the process.. its a pain, the cloud is ready to go through, again and again.. and again.. The Rain Cycle as we know it.

Enjoying the occasional untimely unexpected showers in Delhi, in this time of the year I was tempted to write for it.

“Pain is addictive” prompt was given by Acrostic Only .. To enjoy more takes on the same muse visit Acrostic Only run by Amias, one of those very spirited talented beings that I have come across.

With passions
Like a juggernaut;
Jolly jabber
Throughout the day,
I be.

Jumbled, Jaded
I justify
Your justice made
To jail my judgements
Baked in panicky

For those who I am tempted to call and get a cold response in return when i go forward to quench my temptation .. it shall stop someday .. for I am but me …

This I wrote on my way back home…

Written for a prompt at ABC Wednesday To read some wonderful contributions by fellow participants do visit http://abcwednesdayround3.blogspot.com/ an initiative by Mrs. Nesbitt

Narrating stories
Of the past
Sinking the present
Tears fall
Alluring temptations
Longing for love unfettered
Game of sentiments play
Inconsolable incurred
As I pine for you in

NOSTALGIA

Written for Acrostic Only

Continued from mail from the past -2

“She needs me and that’s why am needed? Right?” – Ram opinionated.

“That is ruthless to say. A dog sees no rainbow, doesn’t mean there isn’t any. Look for the good. Don’t pang for the worse else you ll end up digging only shit. She didn’t send that letter Ram, I did.” – said the old man, indicating his disapproval, pitching up his voice a bit.

“Nandini and I have no future!” ­– Ram exclaimed.

“The future is only for those who live to see it Ram…

Nandini chose to go away because she had no choice then.  She knew, if she didn’t move out of your life, you ld never give up on her. She knew, she is not going to last long and she didn’t want to see herself die in your eyes everyday; every fucking moment.

She made a choice Ram, a choice that was comforting for you, for her, for everyone. She knew you ld never leave her if you smell even slightest of the hints. So… she let you go.”

As the old man said this, his eyes revealed the pain, it reflected a desire to bring Ram to a different ordeal, towards his idea of right comprehension.

Ram, on the other end, tamed his feeling for her, pampered his ego and went strong on him –

“And what does it change now? Do you think saying all this to me now, will overcome the pain I ‘ve gone through, or that is to come, when she is gone? Why did she do this to me? To her?”

The old man didn’t respond, he went quiet. They stood there in a dull,  estranging slience. He gazed away, as the trees behind were swaying and crackling in the breeze; sashaying, conspiring what is going to happen next. Then he took a deep breath and looked back at Ram, eye in eye and said –

“We all scout our emotions Ram, our fear for something; our belief, our perceptions. Almost everything, to great extent is guided by these so called internal scouts. We are more of seekers than receptors of what choices we make. We need to distinguish our perceptions; which to rely on and which not. We have inself, borne our own set of logic calculations, as to what will lead to what.

We fish our own set of answers to what, why and how, of the so many possible probablities, that do happen, in different space time continueum.  In this particular dynamics, it was overpowered by her will to see you settle, more than her will to be with you, which was almost as equally strong with a difference of just a heartbeat may be, or less.  That is the only reason, she chose to go away.

He continued –

“However, her will to be with you didn’t die, and was almost equally strong, and strong enough, to bring me here to tell you this.  To make me mail that letter to you. To save you from the pangs of grief that I have felt for years and not console the lie of your optimum aspirations of a good future, that seems to be emancipated, from the reckless momentary emotion, you are going through. I am here to save you from the undeniable truth of your seperation and sorrow that is to come.

I want you to feel at peace even when she is gone.  Probably that is the reason why I am sitting here, right next to you;  so that, you don’t regret it for years after she is gone. Those unorderly, unpleasing, wild thoughts that would  result out of the choices you make right now. That choice Ram,  would unsettle everything that seems to be in sync right now.”

“I am here to save you from that calamity, cause I do know, your love for her is equally pure and strong. I am here to save you, from the hell of what you may not chose.”

Ram was puzzled, kinda conforming to the old man’s sayings, he inquired further –

“That still beats me – Why you?”

Sri smiled at him and replied –

“Every WHY can be answered in two ways Ram; the background and the intention. Background, I just gave you. Intentions, as we believe are mere expectations that project forward; to do something, some action. …And all expectations, unconcious or concious, that distinguish the living from the dead, tell us to act and move forward. Just like, the past leads to the present and the present leads to the future.

I am, however, that feeling, that expectation, that is guided backwards, I am the feeling, that will be borne out of your guilt years from now.

Look at me carefully Sriram. Its me. Its you.”

Ram stared back at him perplexed and staggered, all he could utterr was –

“Holy Shit !! Is this for real.”

(Might be continued…)

Continued from mail from the past…

***

He woke up early next morning, earlier than he used to,  and went for his morning sprint; everything as usual. It was a fine Saturday morning; one of those days, when he would go jogging to the highway, to push the extremes, breaking his own records, he set every week. It was only 3 miles from his place.  He knew a shortcut, a bare and dusty mud road, that lead to the valley village, and through, to the main highway.

Through the foothills, he ran, amidst mud brick dwellings, with bright tunics on the roof; a scarcely populated area of farmers. On both sides, it had a long stretch of lush green farms, carpeted with farming of winter wheat, bordered by peepal trees, criss-crossed by irrigation streams and irrigation ditches. He ran; as thoughts raced through his mind.

“What am I going to say to Aakriti. I am sure she wouldn’t approve of this.”

“Do I have a choice? I need to find a way out. I promised me yesterday, I ll go see her.”

He was almost huffing, straining himself, gasping for breath. I ll catch some rest, he thought, so he sat by a rock, to find how beautiful scenery, serenely presided around him. Sharp edged stripes of sunlight that angled through the tall trees, soothing the skin so much; as the chilled air tickled arrows in his heart, with every breath he took. Thin columns of smoke rising from the mud houses, across the hillsides and deep in the valley. The sky above was speckless, spotless blue.

“I didn’t even notice this, in all of my noise inself. What’s happening to me?”

“Oh you are fine buddy. Nothing’s wrong with you. You ll find a way to sort it out. Am here to help you.”

Puzzled, he looked up, to find a not so old man; in his late fifties, grey haired with few strands of white, wearing a strange happy look on his face, smiling to him.

“And who are you mister? Do I know you? I didn’t recognise you.” – Ram said.

“Well young man, you don’t know me, but I do know you. I have been where you are. Right here, ages ago. I am here to tell you, you must Go. Go see her.” – said the old man.

“What? Go where?” Ram was puzzled.

“Where you are supposed to be my friend” – he added.

Raising up his voice, a sort of vexed already, Ram was agitated –

“Supposed to be? Excuse me? I don’t get you Sir.”

“Yes.. You are supposed to be with her. Nandini I mean.” – he said calmly.

“How do you know about her? Who are you?”

“That’s not important right now. What’s important is that you should go?”

“… And why should I listen to a stranger who I ‘ve met just a couple of minutes ago. Who knows nothing about what happened. This is too much. You hardly know me.”

“I do know a lot of things that you don’t know yet my friend. Ah btw.. you can call me Sri” – he added.

“Look Sri.  Am very disturbed at the moment and not in a mood to entertain anyone. It was nice to meet you. We ll catch up some other time. I should leave now.”  - saying this Ram walked away.

“Enjoy your walk.” – greeted the old man.

Ram smiled and looked back to find noone there. Miraculously like he appeared, he disappeared too; may be somewhere in the trees, he thought.

“Strange!!” – Ram murmured and walked towards the main road.

“I need to stuff me up with something, and some tea with that will be great” – he said. Soon as he  said it, he spotted a small shop right across the road, around 100 feet away.

“That’s exactly what I needed at the moment. Thank you almighty J for being so kind to me.“ – he exalted.

The tea vendor was skinny fellow, with a clumsy left hand, wearing a monkey cap with flaps that covered his ears, as he sang some folk song in a tune, or better say, in no tune, in such a way that he was the most noticeable of all, present there. A VIP of some sort, as everyone hooked on to him, for something or the other. He lifted the kettle off the coal stove and poured tea in the glass tumblers as he looked at him and said -

“What would you like sahib jee? The tea is ready.”

The aroma of cardamom scented tea was powerful enough to urge anyone, who would go in its vicinity and seemed a perfect way to turn cold down.

“I ll have a one  special masala tea along with anything freshly cooked. Samosas would be great, if you have em and if you don’t, bread will do.” As Ram said this, he found the same old man sitting there on a bench.

“How the hell did he reach here so fast? This is unfuckinbelievable.” – he thought. “Anyway, let him be.”

“Do you have the newspapers bhaiya?” – Ram asked.

“Yes its with that gentleman there babujee. Please share.” – said the tea vendor, as he pointed a finger to Sri.

Ram looked at him, and chose not to get in any conversation.  He kept waiting for his tea, as this old man approached him once again, and offered the newspaper.

“Here. You can have them. I am done anyway.” – he said pulling a chair to him.

“Thank you!!” – Ram responded with a smile, as he took the newspaper from him, to unfold it. 

So when are you going? – Sri asked.

“I won’t respond. Let this weirdo go his way” – he thought. “That’s how these sickos must be treated who stick to you like a parasite, sucking blood out of every conversation, with everyone they meet.” He didn’t react a bit, as if he hadn’t heard him at all.

“Nandini doesn’t know. It was sent by someone else.” – Sri said.

This was getting mysterious and has to be sorted right now.  It irked him to set ablaze his feelings; felt like holding him by his collars, punching him down, knocking each pair of tooth left in his mouth so that he stops being inexplicably orphic smart ass and comes out straight with whatever he knows.

“It seems you know quiet a bit. Why don’t we talk?” ­

“Yes Ram. That’s what I have been trying to do.” – Sri chuckled.

“Well.. Then tell me. Am all ears.” – said Ram.

He moved his chair next to the bench where Ram sat, as Ram invested all his attention to him trying to escape from the emotional wrath he was going through a few minutes ago.

(To be continued…)

“There is a mail for you” – said Aakriti.

“Its there on the computer table, neath the pen stand.”

He was looking forward to some kind of correspondence from Saira. He was thinking all about it on his way back home; in a rickshaw, he took everyday, from office to home; his own chariot.  

It would be fancy to go out this time of the year, a stress-burster much needed. He had been planning this with Saira for long, and now was the time; a perfect time for a holiday.  The weather is beautifully benign, a cusp of winter and summer in the spring; the mornings were still misty and chilly, while the afternoons were one long stretch of breezeless sunshine, to its glory. The evenings steadily long, with a translucent grey sky, with gusts of clammy, cool breeze rattling thoughts, perfect for those longs walks, hand in hand, with a partner.

“Should be from Saira” – he said. “I ll get it. Thank you.”

He approached the computer table, to find a paper envelope, brown colored, with dirty hand stains of oil and ink. Curiously excited, he kept the packets down on the couch and reached for the mail. Inquisitively he picked it up to notice that it mentioned nothing about who sent it. He tore the envelope carefully, to find a folded piece of paper inside, which seemed to have something scribbled in it. A little distracted by the neighbour’s dog barking outside, he chuckled, stealing a look outside the window, as he unfolded it. It was just a one-liner.

“Nandini is ill. Come soon.“

Thoughts played like a violin in his head, trying to yield ramifications from the past. It was a mixed feeling; a dash of anger with fresh pangs of guilt and reproach. Upbraided, he dared not to remember it, but thoughts from the past, lingered, over and over, again and again. It was her own wish to go away; how easy it is, for people to get back to a life, they chose to leave behind, ages ago. Clouded with feelings of guilt, anger and despair he didn’t know which to chose, to go on with. Frustrations seemed to have clobbing him down already.

“Who is it from, Darling?“

“Ah nothing.. Its mine.. Official.“

“But… she is ill” – he said to himself. “Or may be she doesn’t know it was sent to me. It mentions no name.”

All this was so confusing, that it left him weary, with an unexpressed emotion. This bore him beads of perspiration on his forehead, as some flies whined around his ears, advising him, what he wanted or what should be the right thing to do.

“Why the hell should I go?” – he thought.

“Why now?”

However, the compelling aspect, was his mysterious affinity, he still had for her, connected with strings untied, of times of intimacy they once had; among other things, in the bizarre concatenation of events, desires and emotions, that led them to be two kids, close at heart, whenever they met; pampering each other, sometimes also fighting resplendently, non-stop to the glory.

Has something seriously gone wrong with her? Why such a mail after so many years? Has something irrevocable happened? Or is it just a deliberate euphimism, as it is often, on the part of a cautious sender to tell people closely related, to seek their attention.

“Was she dying?”

“No. That cant be…”

Assailed by grim possibilities, thinking of the greyest of things, that could happen. He exclaimed - 

“No that cant be. I shouldn’t be thinking all this. Despite everything that happened, she still means to me. No second thoughts.”

“I ll go. I should go.” – he said.

(Continued at mail from the past – 2.)

****
I have not written a story in ages. Almost nine years. I was inspired to write for Tell a tale – Week 1 prompt. Shall finish this if it manages to catch the interest of readers.

Walking to my destination;
Or was it my destiny?
I know not what…
Quoting columns of agony.