You are asymmetric, you are raw. Theres such beauty in your rough edges. You are haphazard but you make so much sense. You make contrasts seem related. You merge colors without mixing. You create harmony out of complete imbalance. There is something so perfect about your imperfection.
I see you there with your arms outstretched Beckoning me to the land of dreams Where the sky emits a milky hue With all shades of blue singing to you. Trees stand still with quivering leaves Glistening bright with drops of dew. The air is chilly but warms you within Without moving, dreamy fragrances it brings. You smell the woods where fantasies begin. Is that a firefly or did I just see tinker bell? With naked feet I step in the lake Which flows bright blue right between me and you. My feet touch pebbles cold, round and soft, Silk muslin water makes soft lapping sound, It's a song, to water, ultramarine fairies taught And now rings in our ears so clear and loud. I lift my gown and walk to you. Your face glows bright in the milky hue. The world has slowed down just for us, I take your hand in the land of dreams And together we marvel at the nature’s treat While the world is covered with the blanket of sleep.
They are scared of the rains because water can cause floods, they are threatened by mosquitoes because mosquitoes spread dengue, they are worried about security, never know when you might be gunned down and now, they are scared of the sun because, perhaps, the Delhi heat might cause them a heat stroke! I wonder how we have survived here for so long!
Yes! The Commonwealth Games, 2010 seem to be woe-stricken this year as each day brings a new problem! It’s like one of those saas-basu sitcoms where the family members face endless troubles throughout their lives (which are eternal of course, but that’s not what we are talking about here). Four countries that are threatening to pull out of the more-than-three-hours-long CWG opening ceremony, due to the discomfort of dilli ki garmi, are New Zealand, Scotland, Canada and Isle of Man. Well, I just want to say one thing. When clean toilets and rooms without dogs dancing on athletes’ beds, is too much to ask off us, what do you think can be done about the weather, the nature, something that we have no control over? The most we could have done was to ‘green’ Delhi, which we did, as planned. And, we promise, the beautification will last at least for the 12 days!
With the Games just one day away, the queen’s baton has completed its lap in Delhi, after travelling all over the world in the last 11 months. Though her baton is here, Her Highness is not. After all, there is no Kohinoor in India anymore. What is left are politicians no one wants, corruption everyone despises, beggars people ignore, slums that drown in floods and garbage that is everywhere (Of course, for the Games, everything is being cleared off the streets, hidden from view of the tourists. We Indians love to sweep things under the rug, don’t we?)!
Hopefully, things will go smoothly and Delhiites will be saved from further embarrassment. And, if something goes wrong we can always ‘hang’ Kalmadi, right? Didn’t he say so himself? “Hang me if I am proved guilty after the games”?
I am just beginning to understand how appearances can be deceptive and beauty is only skin deep. For how long do you think the ugliness residing within will be willing to stay just inside? In some way or another it is bound to show, perhaps by the will of the water Gods or maybe our politicians are enough for this? Why trouble the Gods, eh? The one to give me this knowledge and such great wisdom are the Common Wealth Games, 2010 that are taking place in none other than my very own dearest Delhi. How, you might ask? (Unless, of course, you already know, which I am sure is the case here!)
I see the new face of Delhi and I fail to relate to it. I liked you better my dear when I knew exactly where your pot holes and ditches were located. Now, everything is covered by a thick layer of such foundation that I don’t even come to know when I step upon one of those old ditches before walking off, oblivious. Obviously, a ‘few’ times when the rain Gods blessed us and your foundation came off is negligible, right? At least, for a few seconds, I saw the old you and it was such a treat to my eyes!
I see the new shiny Delhi, if I close my eyes most of the times while driving. The beautiful landscaping, the smooth roads, the shiny long cars and the bright night lights, all look so enchanting. I see the new sparkly metro, but only from a distance because the crowded platforms make me ill, the long new flyovers that I am not allowed to drive on (perhaps that’s because they are not ready yet?) and the revamped stadiums that I’ve only seen in pictures and I doubt I’ll ever get to see for real. Everything is brand new apart from the politicians of course, who are still the same. Sometimes I feel my eyes sting with all the brightness and the sheen. Oh wait, is that the sheen of Kalmadi’s sweaty face as he screams, “This is a conspiracy!”?
I can only take relief in the fact that the clock will strike twelve sooner or later and you will have to return before the pumpkin turns back to a pumpkin. (As it is, the Prince is not even coming! Nor the Queen! Nor the British! Nor the Canadians! Anyway, moving on…) The foundation will all come off and you will become the Delhi that I always knew! Thank God for that!
Death never comes silently. It screams and shouts and makes all the noise it can. It tells you that its there in whatever ways it can. Death is never quiet. It makes itself known to you. You can feel it whenever it’s around. It is a funny feeling. A chill that leaves you warm or warmth that leaves you cold? You feel it enter your house through the main door; you feel it pass you by. You can feel its presence around you, weighing down on you. The atmosphere feels all charged up. You can almost lift your hand up and feel the intensity in the air around you with your very fingers.
Of course, you do not realize this till it has come and gone…taking someone along.
It is one robber that always leaves its prints and when the theft is complete you recognize the signs you missed.
I live with my family. My grandma lives with us too. Many years back my grandfather used to be the sixth member. He was taken gravely ill and he succumbed to cancer after two years of a brave struggle of the victim against the final victor.
I remember death. I saw it up close. The uneasiness was impossible to shrug off. It started the previous night. Something in me, either my heart or my mind, knew that something very bad was about to happen. It just did not know what. Departure of my grandfather was not even the last thing on my mind. It never struck me. But the beginning of the arrival of ‘it’ had begun and the departure was now due and in process. Nothing in this whole world could have halted it.
I felt that, me and my family, we were not alone in the house. There were many around us, with us that night, Angels of death or Fairies of relief. Whatever they were and whoever they were, they were here to relieve my grandfather from life, from soul and from the unbearable pain that he was, indeed, bearing.
I slept without sleeping that night and dreamt without dreaming. I woke up the next morning with tears in my eyes and my heart racing. I felt a feeling that day that I cannot even put into words. Does such a feeling even exist? Is there a word for it? A feeling of witnessing something, terrible or good, without the slightest idea or recollection of it. As if my soul knew but not my mind. As if only my soul controlled me and not my mind.
My father entered my room as I lay there with open eyes. My troubled eyes. He said, “Good Morning” and I said,”Where is he?” First he told me that he is sleeping in his room and when I asked to be taken to him he told me that he had left. Left this world and us behind. Tears sprout out and my heart almost sprung out of its cage and I realized that I had known.
O thin fine line of bright blue ink, you're supposed to flow as I think, Why ever ye not follow my command, for this I must ye reprimand. I try to move you up and back, you disobey, you go this way and that. When I do decide to cap your vessel, you, invariably, begin to rebel. What shall I ever do with you, always have your way with me, you ink blue.
Train moves forward blowing smoke in the air,
does not stop to notice passing beauty anywhere,
crystal streams, pure and tender green,
bright Van Gogh red, silver clouds overhead.
All that and more it forever leaves behind,
I look out the window and see it all disappear.
This that which I give to you remains yours forever, do what you may, do as you please. Adorn it with petals red and gold together, or banish it to your dungeon and lay eyes on it never! The decision is now yours, my strongest, my most clever, Made today is the very path for tomorrow, dearest lover!
Sometimes I wish I were a man, I’d be tough, I’d be strong, And best of all, With nothing I’d ever go wrong.
Instead I stand here a woman, I am delicate, I am fragile, so very she And worst of all, They just never let me be
He is supposed to be superior, Ah! In, God knows, what all ways, Maybe ‘cause he can beat me in arm-wrestling, fist-fighting games.
You see, I am quite inferior, For I have subtle techniques, Play of eyes, a pretty smile, A mouth that, like razor, speaks.
He only needs to open his mouth, And his voice is always heard, He is tough, he is big and, By animal or nature, he is always feared.
While mine is soft and husky, Often goes unheard but hey, be forewarned, Like it is said ever so often, Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.
I wear frills and I like heels, Oh! He wears pants but so can I, He may be topping the charts, But hey, I, too, am soaring quite high.
Okay so, he brings home dough, Believe me, so do I, I can sew, I can knit, I bring new life and make delicious pie.
I realize we are poles north and south, If he is the Super Man, I am no less than a bird, But know this too our paths will forever be together, And, having said all that, I take back my first few words.