The nomenclature of memories...

Sometimes you just don't get to call them........give them a name.They turn you off, make you cry.Even manipulate the do's and dont's of your life. But when you set your mind to throw the abstraction out of them and have an encounter face-to-face.........you get into a jiffy.Memories do play such nuisance.

This thought in the first place may seem to be the height of weirdness and absurdity.Precisely coz we rarely get a chance to analyse the activities of that lump of cerebrum inside our egg-heads controlling our actions day and night.Or we don't try to.But don't times come......when you wish to break out of the opacity of past and look forward? When you want to un-live yesterday and live today for tomorrow? When you hate to cry for the one that's over?
They do come...........in every life.Its just that you don't really care to accept that;and stay happy further. And its the nuisances of that same egg-head which makes us afraid to move on.....cry for what's gone.....and expect yesterday to come back!Ridiculous!!

May be the "intelligent" human would ridicule so this truth of life.Its a rare and fortunate chance of a lifetime to come across such an intelligent one.But sorry........we won't ask for a share of his intellect.For we prefer grief over pleasure, and can bargain intelligence for not being mechanical.For we want to stay as the "foolish" human................And breathe.For there's very little space to breathe in this world.


I do agree...................with the "foolish man".
For it has been a year since I left behind some peaceful corner in the outskirts of the city to move towards the most bustling one.I left an unnamed,isolated street leading to a building in white and blue........for another one,much more 'prestigious'.And tried to forget some bunch of promises,memories and laughter.......for a future,hopefully better.

But why,after all these months of college.........a single glimpse of that same building in white and blue brings tears to the eyes?Why a host of unnamed,undefined memories start accumulating,all at a time?Why the mind seeks to go back to the past?

May be the past reverberates within us all the time.........and waits for the opportune moment to come up.For the memories we create with our own hands,refuse to get wiped out so fast.And continues to intersect every point of life.Sometimes they burst open that store-house and get surfaced through the eyes......

And that's the time we feel reluctant to look forward.We stop dreaming about tomorrow and crave for yesterday to come back.And wish to abandon our present and future........................not to un-live,but once again,re-live the past, the one................that's over.

My First Christmas...

It forces the store-house of memories to trace down as far as it can.............faded memories of a chilly December morning.....that one different dawn,when the blanket doesn't seem warm enough to lure about the extra five minutes of nap...the dream of an old bearded man stepping to our bedrooms,clad in red and white....the bedside-socks brimming with glittering presents,restless to get unwrapped....the incessant queues at the church gates...the greenery of the Christmas tree accompanied with balls,bells and 'Bethelem'....the unmatched taste of 'mom-baked' chocolate cake....the queue for fruit cakes before Firpos....holding the fingers of parents amidst the evening glitz of Park Street...the nostalgia of Flurys and Waldorf....dinners at Bar-B-Q and Peter Cat....the Park Street Santa with his inexhaustible stuff of Eclairs.....the sound of our first tantrums on a winter morning.................
Memories of 'A First Christmas' reminisces one the city of his times............

And yet........tracing down my own memory lane,I could never encounter any memories as such.

But I did have a First Christmas.......may be not with parents........but somebody, very special.

That was 2007......................the year of my rebirth.

Thrill had made me too afraid to hold that hand while stepping into the church.
And yet........................too reluctant to leave its grasp.

The noise of the ringing church bells seemed to have mingled with the pounding noise of my heart in a fashion, rhythmic enough to leave an everlasting imprint on my mind.It made me lose my ability to fathom where my senses were taking me along.It was probably not my senses........for I had lost the strength to sense the world anymore.
My world got reduced to a lump of muscle, creating those mixed feelings, and a host of forgotten and unscathed desires.

The evening glitz of the most hip street in the city........seemed to have faded out.For I had become blind........blind out of ecstasy in the touch of that warm grasp.The nostalgia may be still was the same.....as suggested by the crowd before the Flurys gate. But that was still a different Christmas. For that evening, I got my childhood back. That warmth of one pull of arms, grasp of palms and whisper of words got me stuck in a whirlpool of times.........times of a 'seemingly' bygone era, boistering with noises, laughter, memories and tantrums, making me feel once again......like a child.

It made me oblivious of the ups and downs in life.......of what came and what is to come.For I knew nothing of the world, nothing of sorrow, nothing of the hard times in life.........when one looks up seeking a hand,and there's not one to lend that. That one evening dragged me back to my ideal world of dreams, where there's everyone to caress, worry, love and care; the bliss of a world.....which we leave behind with our childhood, and never again get to look back.

The hurricane of the times of past....circled around me with swirling thoughts....and reflected through my eyes......brimming with dreams........and bursting with tears, in the event of their fulfilment in life.

The city continues to glitter with its same, renewed vigour...and so does the one awaited chilly December morning,with its promise of nurturing dreams........and making them come true, on some other wintry dusk.

That was 2007................................the year I found the love of my life.

The year of my rebirth.

Penitent's Prayer...

In the dark vault of pride...
And haven of doom...
Got buried my glory...
May be never to rise....
As pride intersected our course...

And left behind was me...With empty despaired hands...
And a void mind...
Rummaging through the past...
Trying to fathom ways....to bring u back.

I wanna crawl back to you..
though I know not how...
For I'm stuck in my self-woven cobwebs...
And I know not the way out...
Every following effort,embroils me further...
In this labyrinth of mine...

I'm perplexed...I know not the way to reach
my destiny...The strength do I lack...
I know not the way to pray thee...
To make you again turn back...
And see...
That its no more the same me...

Your jilted memories accomplished...
which years of love couldn't...
And hear I am waiting...with stretched arms
Promising a life...the way you dreamt

For every element of pride...
Today seems as a mirage to me...
And I'm penitent before you...
Begging...
on bruised knees...
To let me stay with thee.......

An Impassive Farewell...

It was the season of saying goodbyes...To part and cry...Try and forget...And then move on...

And yet,everyone seemed so excited...

Never could I imagine a farewell to be so awaited...Studies almost became secondary as everyone got busy with rehearsals.Even the vice-president had to come all the way to the college field for the 'official' valediction.And we had our pockets pinching with the remaining pocket-money 'coins'; the rest,half-heartedly though,being sacrificed for the same.

It was farewell season at my school too.It had to say goodbye to its father.After all,it was that first principal,who had created and fathered it for 15 years.It must have felt remorse to part from him.
And there was another fresh gang of boys and girls leaving school with eyes full of dreams and tears...It felt nice to become one batch senior.

Everything demanded a change...a fresh start.

Amidst our busy routines in and out of the lab,another sound accompanied the noise of clashing test-tubes and of steam forcing out of the oven.It was the cooing of a little creature stuck in a cage in one corner...an albino rat...our dear li'l Ross.

It had been an inseparable part of the lab...and an "important" member of the department as much as us.In fact it happened to get more attention than the professors.So much so,that we couldn't bear it as something 'inhuman' and gave it a gender recognition.It became "Mr.Ross".

Attending Ross,atleast once in a practical class,had become a habit for all of us.Some loved him,some liked,and some laughed...even some ignored.But Ross was there on everyone's mind.For some,giving feeding him was prior to any practical work.And the rest,with the excuse of work,happened to gather at the corner of the lab only to have a chat with Ross.What more...he was even the cynosure of the sports day march...being the tiniest participant on ground.Clad in his white furs with a blue cap,he proudly went leading us all through the parade with a hoarding behind,written-"ROSS-THE LAB PET".He caught the attention of every single soul on the ground,and maybe he was the reason for our runaway success in that march.We were announced the winners and plannings were started for the departmental picnic.All because of Ross.

Days kept passing on as usual,until one day we came to know..Ross is not well.Somebody demanded a bigger cage for him,but the crude answer was...he has lived his life and is soon going to die.It seemed a severely harsh retort,but authority has to have the last word.Some said he had cancer,some said not.Some wept at the thought of losing him,some seemed to be least bothered.But all got tensed on the whole..Ross was again on everyone's mind...It was then,we came to know that Ross was a girl.Tears turned to laughter and it momentarily made us oblivious of the tension.Ross was forgotten.

It was yet another morning we gathered at the departmental lab..all too busy with their work.Maybe it was the first day no one noticed Ross.It was the lab assistant to come up..in an unsure state of mind..and convey the news to us.

Ross has died.

Suddenly there were cries of disbelief throughout the lab.Everyone rushed towards the cage in one corner.Ross was still there..eyes closed..and hundreds of insects strewn all over her.Some couldn't accept the fact,and said she was having a nap.May be she was.But this one won't break and was going to last.Forever.

It was some one hour later that we somehow managed to get time out,for bidding a last farewell to Ross.On reaching the corner,we saw no sign of Ross.Or her cage.A hope sprang up.Maybe she was alive.And had been taken to the vet.Curious eyes searched her all through the lab..before they fell on the cage.The lab assistant was cleaning it once and for all.Our queries got answered by the pointing of a finger towards the terrace.Ross was getting buried by some seniors.Our rush to the terrace for one final sight was of no avail...Ross was already deep beneath the earth.......

Days have kept passing by the same way since then.The test tubes still clash and break..and the hot-air oven continues to get perturbed by the steam.We are still busy with our rehearsals for the farewell.And talks are being made for bringing two more rats in the lab for some research work.This time the cages should be larger.And there are plans for the picnic..And for sports day,next year.Amidst our busy routines,we still walk in and out of the lab.We have again tried and forgotten...and then moved on...but Ross will possibly stay in our minds,atleast for some long.Some will cry,some will lament...and yet some will be least bothered.But on the whole,may be we will always miss Ross.................Or may be not.

Rains that never returned...

Rains have always been a part of me. I can feel myself connect with the rain.
May be for the rest of the world,its just a few moments of downpour,bringing smiles on faces;or a seemingly never-ending process,causing disgust and wrinkles on forehead.It may be an object to love,a reason to celebrate,a peril to fear or a curse to hate.But after having known about the boons and massacres it has caused through ages, I have never been able to form my well-defined opinion about rain.

Rather rain didn't let me form an opinion about it...

It never appeared to me in its true self.....and has always been a hypocrite.It has been with me, in me; never as some separate entity called "rain".But always, as me.

I saw myself growing up with the rain.I can still recollect my toddler days when the faint sound of a drizzle on the rooftop made my heart pound with huge elation.It was right since then, that I actually started talking to the rain.

I remember the dusky midday,years ago at my parental house, when I heard the 'hammering' of rain on the window panes and got to know what is 'hail'.The whole noon was then spent collecting hailstones with father and big bro...and meticulously counting them to be the highest collector!

I recall the rainy mornings when dadu used to have differences with mom and aunt regarding me and bro going to school.We always used to support him silently, and as per the rule,majority always used to win.

The mornings thereafter have remained deeply imprinted on my mind.Though I was never a foodie, still the smell of khichudi and luchi-aloor dum coupled with the intoxicating smell of rain never failed to create an euphoric mood in me.

I still laugh to remind the surprise on everyone's face when I predicted rain on a fine sunny day and after minutes of sneering, it DID start to rain!
I have always been able to feel rain before it came...the first drop of water on ground gives me the amazing essence of drenched soil and wet meadows....saturated ponds and flooded streets....the essence of a holiday in Venice....the essence of finding me within me....

It was monsoon when I met, rather recognised, that "First person" in my life.
He reminded me of a windy evening after a scorching noon..flying dead leaves over a deserted street..shivers in the frigid northern wind..sound of breaking window panes and the familiar screams of unnecessary panic…
He reminded me of a Tagore song…and long solitary walks on rainfed gardens.He brought back loneliness in my 'fulfilled' life, and taught me to feel lost in the midst of a crowd.He gave me the chance to share new stories with the monsoon, experiences of my first-found love.

And it was another monsoon,he left......

Dadu was no more, big bro went miles away...And baba was also no more the same.He seemed to have grown up with his baby daughter.What didn't change was rain.

Grief went beyond my grasp...and familiar faces seemed foreign.I felt stuck at home with alienated figures.Loneliness pervaded all around.I had to love life that way.They say they love walking in the rain coz no one can see them crying.I disagree.I love rain coz it cries with me,unlike everyone else...

Until a magic wand struck....and everything changed.....

It was raining cats and dogs the day...
a magician came into my life...And showed me life the way it should have been...
He showed me after night there's day,after mistakes a chance and after every winter,comes a spring.
He showed me the rainbow after rain...
I learnt not to be happy being lonely and craved to hold his hand.To look at the polished side of the coin and overlook the dull side.To love and accept love with its hues...All over again.

It still rains the same way,but I miss the rains that reminded me the smell of my grandmom,my worn-out parental house,my childhood...I wish that angel had come into my life long back.And I could hold his hand and walk across those wet streets under the same heavy rains,for years to come.Wish my family would have been the same...

And all of us would have been together...ma,baba,dadu,thamma,dada,me and my angel....under the ethereal bliss of the rain....