Posted in Fiction, Life, short story, thème


He had only a few minutes left, for the clocks to strike 12
and he wouldnt remain the same,
pumpkin carriage would be no more,
he would no longer be the prince charming,
and as he feared, no longer the apple of her eye.
His mind seemed to be in a hurry, and yet he was’nt.
His midnight never arrived,
He was never let free,
Thus continued his eternal wait,
for his

Posted in "Theory of pursuit", Admiration, Kindred, Life, Moi, Personal, Randomness, Realité, thème, Thoughts, thoughts to think

An enchanting window.

Whenever I stood next to it, I felt the power creep into me. Who does not enjoy being powerful?, I did enjoy it too. I love the fact that, standing right at my home, beside this powerful tool, the window, I can get see and observe lives of many people right at my doorstep.  I can actually hear some of them too. As my gaze goes far, I still get to observe people, even though I may not get to comprehend them well. Farther down, even though I can’t see or hear them, I get a whiff of their lives. I get to see both the good and the bad, I get to hear both music and noise as mere sounds. I get to experience the smells without having to look for the aroma. I like the power of an open window.

Our bodies and minds have this amazing capabilities of recognizing patterns, and mapping them. You automatically start brushing your teeth when you stand in front of your sink in the morning, or your nose starts sniffing for fresh coffee early in the morning as you walk past your kitchen. When I started living along, my mind developed this acute sense of feeling raw emotions when I stood at my window. For a person who is not so comfortable showing emotions, smiles and tears did not shy from showing up when I stood at my living room window. There was nothing magical about it, but still, enchanting it was. Complex emotions found their way into my expressions, without the fear, the guilt I usually associate with most of those emotions. I wondered if it showed, If I displayed?, If I presented. Oh wait!, I didn’t care anymore, I stood behind a window. Who cares what the outside people saw.

Have you ever lived in a room with thin walls, you can exactly hear whats going on with your neighbors, you just didn’t show it. You heard all their words, without listening. You learn to pretend without being pretentious. To be honest, the window ignited the naturist in me to be stark naked, without having to cover my insecurities, without having to care for the voyeurs lurking in the dark. I was not an exhibitionist, but a pure naturist. I enjoyed having the control of closing the drapes when I want, and living it open when I feel.

Near the window, I made up my own rules, whenever I felt like it, I broke them too, I didn’t have anyone to answer to, more importantly I didn’t have me to question. A long standing rule, was about me, not sitting near the windows. I always stood there. I like to have my eyesight level with the windows, I did not want to look upto it. It was my equal, it was my mate. I liked the sweet pain in my legs when I spent long hours with it, it was worth the pain. It deserved the respect of me standing up to it.

Dimensioning one’s gain is very difficult, especially when the gain is not materialistic. My window had both the lovely dimensions, space and time. I have observed the constant space over a varying time, I have seen the same front yard from my window for ages now. The color of seasons, have changed and repeated, people have often stood, gone and returned, the constant tree has withered and greened up. When I have moved places, I have seen the constant time with varying space, the windows have changed, I have observed how my new courtyard reacted to the same seasons, how new people have come reacted to exact same stimulus. How each one of them have left a mark in me with their reactions, even though they are not aware of me watching them acutely.

Its not like my window has always remained open, or I have always been besides it. However I have found great comfort in seeing life, and being seen. I have enjoyed being leered by perverts, and admired by prophets with equal nonchalance.

As I close the drapes on this post, I cant help but enjoy my ramblings at my window, albeit virtual.

Posted in "Theory of pursuit", Kindred, Life, Moi, Personal, poésie, poetry, thème, Thoughts, thoughts to think

Rebellious grin

Dreams are what keeps you up, he was told

You don’t need coffee to pump you up, he was told

There is no shortcuts to hard work, he was told

Winning should be fun, he was told

Studying hard cannot backfire, he was told

A good (earning) job is a great accomplishment, he was told

You don’t need coffee to pump you up, he was told

Dreams are what keeps you up, he was told

He woke up, Ah! Freshly brewed coffee, he smiled in bliss.


Posted in Memories, Moi, Personal, thème, Thoughts

The last summer

I remember the light that shone, in what appeared to be a small chamber of walls. The walls that seem to shrink the space with time, as did the waxy candle, being eaten away little by little, lightening up more and more, as though trying to mask things being lost, with shiny things which lit up with little effort.

I remember little things which lit up my days, adding aroma to my morning cup of coffee, which seem to be leaving an increased essence with every sip, that is taken in. Every sip opening up a bit of the scratchy insides of the cup, showing the cracks well hidden, with an almost devilish precision. An aroma rich enough for a lifetime, a lifetime long enough, or may be, just enough.

I remember the lifetime, which seemed long, not long ago;  lifetime that seems to have left a rich aftertaste, occasionally hinting flavors, sweet, that refuse to turn sour with time.

Sour, they should have been, foul, it should have smelt, dark, it should have ended.

Alas, I still remember the light.

Posted in Moi, Personal, thème, Thoughts, thoughts to think

Work in progress

I have been a real bad blogger off late, not because I haven’t been reading my reader, not because I have not been writing my thoughts, not because I hardly chat with people from blog world who have become such good friends over time, it’s because I didnt even miss blogging, I did not miss not having a forum to express my thoughts, I didnt even felt the want to write them.

I don’t know if it’s a phase, or I just walked out of one. I just dont know.

I am just back from a vacation, where I had loads of fun, tons of firsts, and even more fun. I am trying to motivate myself enough to write my travelogue [Something I used to love doing]. Anyways more on this later.

The other day I was reading something and this thought of  “What I could have been” came to me. I know what I am right, what If I had been something else, well I kind of day dreamt the different things I could be doing, it was very interesting to look closely at how I see an alternate me.

I could have been a someone struggling to break even in business if my dad and mom had chosen to stay back in Gujrat. Well I really cannot imagine myself doing business, as I am not cut out for that, well you never know. Realstically I picture of Anupum Kher from Ram Lakhan comes to my mind. May be a balder and a fatter version though.

I could have just made that small extra push in highschool, which would mean someone leaving in Rochester would be living in Bangalore instead, and I would have many more memories to cherish upon, and not just a single page from a notebook.

I could have been swimming instead of walking in knee deep water, if I knew how to pick my battles with my mom, and fight for the right stuff. Instead of a new ‘hero’ pen, I could have fought for a month of swimming lessons.

I could have walked around the pangong lake with some good friends, if I had not considered the money it costed, and use parents as an excuse from the vacation. I would not have this repent that I missed out on a great trip.

I could have been this middle aged married guy, in suburbs of california, if I had chosen to go ahead with my masters. I have so many real and fake reasons for this, I cant even begin listing them. I could have been the typical desi NRI visiting home once in two years, traveling once in a while within the US. Ah who am I kidding, I dont think I would ever like this country, or would I.

I could still continue to be the prejudiced, MCP which I once was. I could have continued to be a sexist, racist, and religiously biased person and continue to be proud about my fake ideals. I could have continued to close my eyes to real world, or not even try to open up to reality. This makes me wonder, have I really moved on?.

I could have been the couch potato which I was almost destined to become, if I had not found the wonderful world of books, courtesy S.  I needed a balance, I still do, and there are many people who brought some of it in my life.

All this makes me realize how much I have fought with myself to be who I want to be, some were easy and for most part were difficult. But most of them are work in progress.

Posted in cubeland, Life, Relationships, thème

Alpha male and you..

He was an alpha male, one need not be judgmental to say that. He was mean, fearless, speaking ill to the face, back stabbing, and could use any means to prove to his colleagues his superiority. He was feared by almost everyone who worked with him, not because he was all the things  said before, but most importantly he knew what he was doing, and almost every single time he took a stand, he took the right one. Thats something you admired in him, being able to be right almost every time, taking stands against people, even his superiors, spreading terror, and throwing open challenges. He was almost like an older, evil version of you.

He was around 55, he had a daughter older than you, and a girl friend younger to you. One could easily make out that he liked flirting, A biker, someone who was in shape, did a lot of flashy activities, just someone who knew how to live his life.

When it comes to work, you too never shied from challenges. You never took people head on, but then you were not the one to give up either. Someone like him, was your ultimate challenge. Debating with him, disagreeing with him and proving him you were correct and he wrong, was something you looked forward to. Even though rare, you did get to do that many a times, and you were rewarded with his trust, and more importantly respect. When such a guy thinks he could share a problem, which he is solving, with you, and then asks for your opinion on it, that day my friend brings the ultimate satisfaction which no promotion could give you.

At 55 when he is still ruling the professional world, what if one day he shares with you, a story of his painful breakup. The girl who he made him move cities, someone whom really cared about, someone who shared his passions, had decided to go her own way, living him devastated.

For the first time you get to see the human side of him, his vulnerabilities, his insecurities, his pain. He is still the terror he was to people, even to you he is still the same fearless person. Deep down you know he is human, he is vulnerable. Years of grey hair on his scalp has not hidden his vulnerability, he still cares to be loved, he still cares for his woman. You want to ring up a friend  who wrote “here“, how with age he had not buried his vulnerability nor strangled it out. He was as susceptible as his younger self who gave up a college education to marry at 17, his then sweetheart, mother of his 30 year old daughter.

One day, when on not being reminded by him that its a friday, and you ought to be out dancing at a club, or hitting a beach, you decide to ping him to check whats wrong, and he gets back 45 minutes later, that he is done for the week, and she had stepped in to take the last of her belongings. You for a moment not knowing what to say, tell him to dial you up if he wants to talk to someone, to discover he has already logged out.

One is never old to be vulnerable, and nor too young to be.

Posted in Moi, Personal, thème

All I had to say was “Hi!”

Day one:

I am sure this is one new addition to hundreds of things I have started and given up, well whats wrong in trying though.

Day five:

She has been there like last couple of days, doesn’t she look like a school kid. Well there’s something about her.

Day six:

Looks like we both come in at the same time, Let me sneak in and check how much she is burning. What if she thinks I am jerk, never mind I will peak in when she is turning the other side.

Day nine:

Well no more hesitation in peeking at the numbers, I have been doing it every day

Day ten:

We smiled at each other, man I am turning into a rock star. This is weird.

Day eleven:

Two and a half men playing on TV, spontaneously we both crack up on the same joke, thats weird. She giggles, and I smile.

Day fifteen:

What happened to that smile, I think that must have been an illusion, looks like I am imagining things

Day twenty:

I have totally forgotten, as if it never happened

Day twenty five:

Its been like a week, may be she moved away

Day twenty six:

Waiting at a stop sign, to turn right, a big car passes by and I follow it to turn right. Sudden thought, I have seen that person somewhere, isn’t she her?. oh yeah, if she takes a turn onto our drive way its definitely her. It is her. She is back at my time today, and you know what the smile is back.

Day thirty:

I got to talk to her, I should. Will it be like a hallmark moment?, I wonder.

“Do you mind”?,

*removes the earphones* sorry!

Do you mind, If I switch of the fan?

*adjusting back the earphones* this is much better.

and finally

Guys do not worry, I did finally say hi on the Day thirty six, and did get a hi back.

Posted in Life, Marriage, Relationships, short story, thème, Thoughts


Guys you remember my blog friend Rusty from “Two A Day” right?, so she had written this short story a few days back, which I was really impressed with. She called it “The Beginning“. I asked her if she could do a part 2 of it, from the view of the women, and she asked me back, if I could do it. This was way back and I have been wanting to do it for long. Finally I got myself to do it, so here it goes..

It had been months since she started talking to herself, first she found it amusing, because back in her days she hardly liked to speak, she was one of those who preferred few words, and uttered them only if necessary, but now, she found herself being more expressive. She would surprise herself with the physicality of her emotions; she had caught herself smiling at things from a book, or with a lump in her throat, or even for that matter humming her favorite songs loudly. May be it was her unconscious mind trying to fill in the void.

She had never been particular about her ensemble, and her mother always had a problem with that, she was always being told things like how a dupatta completes her salwar, or when she wore western dresses, she was always reminded to throw in a nice pair of high heels along with it. Basically she didn’t care, a feeling of “completion” did not matter to her much, she always believed that she had better things in her life to drive to completion, rather then something as trivial as her look. Like the elusive degree in art she wanted to earn in the city of Paris, or things as simple as a perfect evening in her lawn with a good book, and a cup of tea, with nothing to worry about.

On that day, as she ran down her steps to catch her shawl, which was forced off her, by the wind, she began to introspect what she had become, and what she was. Red shawl completed her attire for the cold evenings she spent on her balcony, and she did not want to lose the comfort of what she had, especially after all other things which were completely beyond her reach right now.

She had all the freedom she wanted, no one to answer to, she had complete independence. she always had wanted this, ability to not depend on anyone, even if it were for deeds which required physical strength, like moving things in her house, or something as trivial as deciding what she would eat that day. At home she had always felt controlled, being told what to do, what to eat, and being taken care of. One could catch her on days moving stuff into her balcony and out of it. She felt idiotic and stupid, because she kind of yearned for that control now, the bondage which she hated so much, she kind of missed it. Without that pull, the freedom felt incomplete, less attractive and less appealing.

Balcony was one place she had gotten absolutely fond of. You could catch her there most of her free time. Reading, cutting vegetables, watching people, living her life. One day as she gazed around the area, she caught a pair of binoculars aimed at her, for a second she got creeped out, immediately rushed back into her kitchen. She did not know how to react, should she be calling police, or call her husband at work. She decided to ignore it, and if it becomes more intrusive she thought about taking some action. One thing she realized was that, she did not want this to ruin one thing she loved the most in her life, her balcony, her window into the blue skies.

Every time she came into the balcony, she kind of glanced to see if she could spot the guy, she would find him on some days and not on others. Slowly she began to feel comfortable with being watched, more importantly she liked it amidst her loneliness, gave her a sense of being looked after and looked at, even though it meant a loss of privacy, at times. Slowly she began to treat the person as being there with her, in her balcony, imagined him responding to her, talking to her, providing her a virtual company, he had become a part of her evenings remotely, ‘his’ presence completed her evenings. Its one of those feelings which she could not categorize as romantic or sexual, it gave her a sense of companionship, and she began to like it.

On that day as her husband piled boxes on top of each other, she stood there with a confused mind, it was going a new place and a new city, and the same old herself, in a way stepping a step back, from being accompanied back to herself. The sense of completeness those unknown eyes brought to her, was something beyond comprehension”

P.S. This will be my last post wrt to my writing experiments and I am going to take a break from all the prompts and attempts. I want to get back to how the blog started more ME, since I am blogging so less these days I want to take this blog to where I started from my life and opinions.

Posted in "Fifty Five Words ", poésie, poetry, thème, Thoughts, thoughts to think


On days 
“I”  wonder,
If little spurts 
Of company
“He” chooses
For “me”

“His” ways
Of guiding  “me”
Off “my” path.

“His” ways
Of  tuning “me”
Off  key,


 As though
“he” can read 
“my” fear,

 He walks “me”
back into,
“my” lanes.

Keys “me”
Back into,
“my” notes.

Returning “me“,
To “my”

Topic over at Sunday Scribblings today is Piligrimage, and here’s my take on the topic in my usual 55 words style.[it had been some time since I did this].  


In “my” piligrimage, “I” chose no companions, and “he” obliged.
On a totally different not, the pure pursuits has come back to life let me know your thoughts on the matter.