Gap

A bus travelling through vast fields.
Courtesy: World Bank Photo Collection on Flickr | License: CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

Late winter , air was still cold and dry. One would shiver given the harsh environment. They had begun gathering and load luggage in the bus. Meeting and greeting every new-comer. There are smiles and chatter all around but his is an anxious soul. He has made some plans for the trip but he could hardly include his fancies. As the night grows deeper, people start boarding the bus and taking up seats.

He is early to board and blocks two seats. As she enters the bus, he can do little to stop himself from wishing her to sit beside him. But as she takes a seat two rows away from him, not even recognizing his presence, he becomes a bit more sullen and decides to go to a lonely corner window seat in the back of the bus. He unconsciously wishes no one to be aside him and spontaneously, in his brain, decides to keep everyone away.

As the front seats in bus are no longer available, this damsel thin and clad quite candidly takes the seat beside him. Without being asked he tells her, "I am not closing the window, even when the bus is at full speed." She simply nodes and shrugs her shoulders and leans back in the seat while talking to a figure in bus's corridor. He keeps silence. Bus jostles and makes slow movement on city streets. The wind is hurting him, but he is adamant. He can still bear it as the city is still warm and his jacket is thick.

He is deep in thought. By now the bus is on city outskirts and moving swiftly as traffic has now dwindled down. The winds are coarse and blunt. He braves them in the face, keeping his pride intact. His back towards his co-passenger, he is not aware of the discomfort being caused to her. Suddenly, he feels a hand on his shoulder. He is suddenly mild and no more rigid, she whispers, "Please, close the window". Making no arguement, he just closes the window silently trying to plug the gaps that might leak wind to her. He is careful, yet aware not to let it be evident. Through the night he gazes at her, making just mild talk. His brittle surface giving into a warm interior.

By the day break, bus has reached its destination. The party is supposed to move to the train for their journey onwards. The hustle-bustle is back again. The night's silence lost. And the companions having moved as swiftly as they had come together just for a journey amongst hundreds of days. Train honks as the orange-red sun begins to warm the Earth on South-Eastern horizon...

Birds...

Beautiful Red Cherries
Courtesy: Colin on Flicker | License: CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

...as a 4 or 5 something she stands out! A sunflower yellow frock falls down her waist creating a bizarre contrast against her pale and freckled skin. Face glows crowned with black hair that vanish around her slender neck, which seems to jab out of floral shirt concealing her rather lanky figure. He goes on his knees to be level with her, trying to look into her big black eyes. It's enchanting when her pink lips part to utter a frank hello and he cherishes the divine. A strip of glass panels lets sunshine in, wind ferrying the curtains on its wings. He stands up, carrying her in his arms - a peck on her cherry cheeks. Walks across the room to plop on the large couch that's the only piece of furniture in the large room overlooking the large garden that sprawls just a bit short of the infinity. Noon fades into a gloomy red and grey, but electric evening. His eyes transfixed to the Brownian motion that this darling exhibits as he continues to recline in the synthetic satin, (suddenly) to his amazement a pearl rolls down his bony cheek, (at once) to lose its shiny existence to the cushion underneath...

A Sunday Morning Rain

A Shikara in a lake in Kashmir.
Courtesy: BOMBMAN on Flickr | License: CC BY 2.0

He suddenly wakes up at 3:45 AM after a 'once in a while' timely sleep, following a dream sequence probably echoing some scene from the early mornings of hostel life. Soon he is enjoying a not much anticipated rainfall, while reading, browsing, munching; waiting for hands of clock to spread apart vertically.

At 6 he takes to the street to go for his morning walk. Sky is perfect azure, winds blow mild, figs cover the drenched asphalt, yellow and green alike. Sun efforts hard to break through the rebelling wet cotton puffs scattered through the sky. Pink-purple Bougainvilleas shudder to the breeze, while water drips down the asbestos roofs across the yellow walls of a secluded primary school and Moneyplant clings to the shoots of an overgrown shurb. A gunny bag flies down the 4th floor house. In the garden, green carpet entices the eyes as a young ladette wiggles hips; circling the track, pacing ahead of a large crowd of wailing elderlies and lame fat con mans carrying their own weights!

All the while he is eyeing beauties, trying their hands on steerings of some hatchbacks with a red-tape 'L' pasted across pretty sizeable portion of the windsheild, he is still not able to get off his mind some lines he came across in a Facebook note, about Kashmir encounters, earlier. Here goes a part of it -

"...Kids carry death in their school bags

Evening brings news, always

A white shroud, blood smeared

Like the blood of a slaughtered lamb

On the virgin snow

And a school bag

Inside, a report card

Teacher’s remarks:

This kid has a bright future

....

....

....

Kam gul-badan, metzchi andar ...

What tulips! One with earth, six feet under ...

Desolate mothers sipping heart attacks

In their pink tea

Fathers breathing cancer in their tobacco

Trying in vain

To accelerate the time..."

You may be able to access the complete text, by Mehran Qureshi, at the following link - Kashmir Is Taken!

Back home the guy tries to form an opinion and have an insight into things of higher order. What makes Maoists rise against the state? Why do people rebel at a G20 meet in Toronto? Why does China faces conflicts despite spectacular growth rates? What makes Thailand come to street?...

Anyways he is normal soon, digging Earth of a potted plant and asking it if it needs cold water, even after rain it is contnuing summer in New Delhi. Would a mud-pack heal its cuts or beautify it? Looking at Facebook responses, he is happy to have got 6 likes for his status and is looking for a mild afternoon nap post a Star Wars clip, since fantasy can be fascinating...

Some of you may like this - "Audioslave - Be Yourself".

Check Mate

A rather distinct and beautiful Chess set.
Courtesy: Martin Lopatka on Flickr | License: CC BY-SA 2.0

The most imaginative people are the most credulous, for them everything is possible.       - Alexander Chase

Eight by eight board of blacks and whites. Sixteen pawns, twelve face members, two queens, two kings and two players contemplating moves to win the game - necessarily making brilliant moves as well as excellent mistakes.

Some questions though. Why shall not pawns try to become king? Why can't they define their own destinies? Why player acts God, isn't it monopoly of a sort? Further if the game has to be so uncertain, why can't there be a third influential force, which can be manipulated by two main players through treachery, bribery, emotions, affection and all those add-on tactics? It might be the case that this third party overtakes and blows the lid off both the major parties! This way a plain game be more interesting or probably more straining and intriguing.

Fundamentally the element of uncertainity drives fun, more essentially it focusses you and gets you freedom from thoughts and that is 'entertainment'. Right?

But I feel eight by eight is a small field, if the game has to be strategy, and third party influences will surely add to the taste. Just suggestions for may be a newer 'Chess extended'!

As I complete this post I realise that their exist strategy games like 'Age Of Empires' which give some of these options, but a board game can also be devised. Sad I never played 'Monopoly' like that.

My Favourite Song!

My favourite song? Never been able to decide, listen to all kind of music, fluctuating moods make me go for fluctuating choices! Yet one song that has caught my fancy for a very long period of time is "Tanha Dil, Tanha Safar". Its a song by Shantanu Mukherjee, popularly known as Shaan. Lyrics are just awesome, but like most things I like it also is a complete presentation, just spell bounding in all respects, the video of song has a nice blend of student-teacher relationship, attraction is unavoidable, friendship portrayed nicely, passion for a hobby (music) depicted brilliantly. Like the Christian backdrop attached to the whole thing and it is just mesmerising to see a loner walking on a beautiful tree-lined street, while browsing the memories of times gone by.

Haven't listened to it in a long time. May be need it, I should try and reconnect with the good things in my life.

Nocturnal?

Image courtesy : Lunchbox Photography on Flickr, check usage terms before using the image.

As the dark sets in and things begin to go for their regular sleep.
This is the time a different breed comes to life.
It is creative, likes peace and enjoys to peep.
Ambitious, hard working and is certainly not afraid of strife.

After dark, when details are sharp!
This breed rises to the small resistance thrown to it.
Continues on its path, in the warp.
It looks in the dark to achieve its theme, "Go Get It".

Focussing on the self-being,
It proceeds to do the cardinal deed.
Breath and thoughts numb, senses benign,
This way thrives the self-proclaimed, "Nocturnal creed"!

Hope

Image Courtesy : mindfullness , on Flickr. Check usage terms here!

A bright and focussed shaft of light tears smog and dust filled air, while a whole orchestra blocks major part of it. An exceptional contrast is visualised. A whole spectrum of dark lies in front of an explosive brightness. Providing us a crude sense of depth, the third dimension and thereby completing the visual experience. Small dust particles continue to float and vibrate through the air.

Suddenly the instruments start playing, in perfect sync but without any external help. A stick would beat drums while 3 guitars are strum. Keys dance on the keyboard and mike would rotate around the stage as synthesizers explode their best.

You close your eyes, everything fades, silence prevails and a shock-wave follows sweeping everything clean and clear and virtually refreshed for new experiences, beatings, strums and expressions. Sharpness moderates and eyes are able to stare normal and decipher the visible spectrum, the same orchestra is seen once again...

This time green tendrils creep up the stabilizing bars while red and pink flowers blossom listening to mild melancholic and sedative music that originates from the very same devices. Bright blue sky completes the backdrop where the horizon meets the sky in beautiful embrace. Kissing each other in a passion that ceases to emancipate.

This is how hope continues to thrive, for both the aspects - the heads and the tails! Technically and mystically sugar-coated as - "a feeling of expectation and desire for a certain thing to happen."