We Move On....

This is a poem about two people who once shared a common dream. Never mind why they split. The point is, it takes her (him) some time to realize the fact that the past cannot be changed, and has to be accepted, however unpalatable it might be. When realization strikes, she simply moves on with her life, and never looks back again.

Would you opine otherwise?

She Moved On...

Sometimes when she walked down by the
Graveyards they had built someday,
The walls of which had mossed with time
On graves now neglect creepers climb.

Sometimes when she looked back at the
Bygone years and days of yore,
And saw all that she once held dear
With time had moved well under the sod.

She saw through pain and tears and death
A world which once held joy and love,
When laughter rang deep in her ears
And sunshine warmed her heart and soul.

The chipper lass who’d swan her way
Through alleys of this slipshod world,
Holding tight her stripling’s hand
Mountains climbed and seas were crossed.

The scorching sun had charred their skin
The angry rain had slapped their face,
They snow that fell had numbed their nerves
Through niveous nights and stormy days.

When people slept at homes in peace
They’d dream under the starlit sky,
And hear each other’s heartbeats sing
On dewy duvets of unworn grass.

They’d smile amidst all the pain
They knew some day they’ll brazen it out,
For they knew they had what it takes
To conquer but the ruthless world.

Yet no one knew the moment when
The cruel world had nixed their dreams,
Their ways once one got far apart
They split and never met again.

She searched through the moss unable to find
The footprints they’d left way back,
She sighed and heaved an agony breath
Love seldom stood the test of time.

Life is strange- was all she said
And moved out of the graveyard gates,
And slowly walked the lonely road
Yet not once did she turn again.


Life changes us, priorities change, and so do dreams and aspirations. We learn to move on in life. So it is almost impossible to start from where two people left. Nostalgia is sometimes a bitter pill to swallow. And it does take a lot of time and derring-do to finally acknowledge the fact that it’s sometimes better to keep the past in the past, a place where it rightfully belongs, and treasure whatever handful of memories you had then. You just can’t hang on to your past at the cost of jeopardizing the present and the future. After all, life must move on.

Real dreams..!!

The sky had been stained with hues of crimson. They were sitting by the seashore, each silently admiring the drowning sun. Not a single word had been spoken so far. Yet the silence that ensued had never been more pregnant. For, she somehow had the knack of deciphering the realms of his thoughts. And he was somewhat oblivious to her train of thoughts, exulting though in the comforting silence and in the feel of her pulses nearby. The breeze that tousled his hair gave him the taste of freedom. Yet his freedom had a different meaning for her. Somehow, she had realized this fact long back.

Finally, she broke the silence.

So what are you thinking of?

Nothing much. I was thinking about life in general.

As in? Dreams and stuffs?

Kind of.

So do you dream? She somehow knew she was treading on uncharted territory.

Of course I do. Who does not?

Hmm... Tell me, what do you see in your dreams?

Oh, this and that. God, dreaming was something. But speaking openly about it seemed a far difficult task.

Naah, this and that sounds evasive. Not good enough. Tell me, what do you dream of?

Ummm....For a start, I dream of a great job. I want to work with the best minds and get the right contacts. Few years down the line, I want to set up my own business. Entrepreneurship and stuffs...................

So for the next 15 minutes, he enthusiastically chattered about his career plans.

That’s it?

Yes, I guess that’s it. And now, it’s your turn.

My turn? She tried to ape nonchalance and turned her eyes from his face. There was something about his eyes that unsettled her. And there was something about her eyes she did not want him to see. Something about her dreams she did not want him to know.

Yes. Tell me about your aspirations. Having made it to one of the top schools, you must be real interested in research and stuffs?

Depends.

On?

What do you mean by the term “real interested”.

Oh.

Oh what?

Nothing. So isn’t that your greatest dream?

No.

Then?

Nothing that would interest you, she gave him one of her sheepish smiles, trying to evade the issue.

But then, she knew that some men were relentless. And stubbornly persistent too.

Tell me, There was a certain hint of a command in those words.

Tell you what? She was just buying some time to frame the words properly. She knew it was time to face the inevitable.

About your greatest dream.

Oh damn, to hell with the framing of words. She would just blurt it out the way it was. Perhaps that was the best way to do it. Why pretenses with the man you loved?

His look was intense now, waiting impatiently for a reply.

Finally, she gave him one of those looks that would bore through the eyes and reach the soul. Okay, you asked for it. So here we go buddy, she said in her mind.

She took a deep breath. I want to marry you. And I want to have kids who would look like you. The same eyes, the same nose, the same set of stubborn jaws. That is my greatest dream. That is my “real” dream.

Somehow, he hadn’t expected this answer in a million lifetimes. And the way she threw the answer right on his face somehow shook his huge broad frame, throwing him off balance. He was left speechless, gasping for an answer for god knows how long.

He did not know what to say to her.

And she interpreted his silence to be something bordering on indifference.

Finally, she broke the silence, sensing his paralyzed state of mind. Anything to thaw the ice between them.

Well, you asked for it.

But this is crazy.

This is real. As real as it could get.

But what about your other dreams? You career and stuffs?

What about them? Don’t they sound real enough?

Certainly what you said couldn’t be your greatest dream.

You asked for the truth. And you know I wouldn’t lie. Whether you buy it or not is your problem. And you do not have to meet me halfway. I know your dreams are important for you. I can’t say I’d wholeheartedly agree with them, but I would understand.

With this, she finally got up, dusting the sand off her shorts. She was gone in a few minutes. She had suddenly disappeared in the darkness, leaving him floored. The only sounds he heard were the angry roars of the sea and his racing heartbeats. Surely she was one hell of a crazy woman.

We do not share a common dream, he thought.

We do not share a common dream, she thought.

Her dreams are so naive and unreal.

His dreams are so materialistic.

My career is my first priority.

What is life without love? And without a dream home with a bunch of kids running around?

She doesn’t realize her potential. She has a wonderful career ahead of her.

No one is sacrificing career. He just asked me about my most ardent dream.

I just hope that I do not shatter her dreams.

I just hope I do not suffocate him with my dreams.

The kibitzing continued..........

Would he learn to accept her dreams and fulfill them? Would she learn to give him the space and time to fulfill his dreams? Would they realize that in love, it’s not necessary to see things together, but it is mandatory to acknowledge each other’s dreams? Would they learn to live with the constitutional differences each harbored and still love and respect each other? Would they realize that instead of each fulfilling their own selfish dreams, it is more important to stick to each other through thick and thin? Finally, would they realize that love is not about your dreams or my dreams, but “our” dreams?

Well, time would say that

Shubah Vivaah

I feel like an Adnan Sami forced to pack myself in Priyanka Chopra's jeans. I feel like a Julia Roberts forced to watch 'Main prem ki deewani hoon' from the front row of Ashok Cinema hall. Kitne examples sunega bhai , samajh ja na ki I feel uncomfortable . I have been tagged, who want me to put down eight things I desire in my life partner. I seriously think the hindustaani sarkaar is goofing up by not awarding a paramveer chakra to my mother who has managed to tolerate me for 23 years , so expecting someone to be with me for life scores a perfect ten on the optimism meter. But Mungeri Laal doesn't hold the exclusive copyright to dream. So here goes .

1. The sharmeeli salwaar suit girl

'Bholi si soorat , aankhon mein masti , duur khadi sharmaye'

I first heard these lines from 'Dil to pagal hai' on my school bus. Since then , whenever I imagine my dream girl , these lines start playing in the background of my bheja . Plain face. Minimum make up. Ek choti se bindiya . naazuk . Hair tied a choti. Pink salwaar suit. A few kaanch ki green bangles . Quiet girl . Elegant . Shy. Soft laughter. Hai main marr jaawa butter naan kha ke .The multiplex chaap girl who wears a three year old's bathing suit to parties , drinks , smokes , uses foul words and calls herself independent is a wonderful thing to happen to the cosmetic and tobacco industry , but for me , the bhartiya simple ladki remains incredibly cute . But oye sohniye , not too much shy .

Me ( Back from office ) - Knock . Knock . Oye laajwanti , darwaza khol yar , I am back .
She ( softly ) - Suno jee , mujhe aapke saamne aate hue shy shy feel hota hain jee .
Me ( Trying to keep my voice low while the neighbours look at me curiously ) - Ahem . haha. Arre darwaza khol sweetie , it's been 13 years since our marriage now. Abb kya sharmana .
She ( softly giggling now ) - umm..nahi jee , mujhse nahi kiya jayega . Aapke saamne aate hi sharma jati hu main.
Me ( hitting the briefcase against the door ) - Teri ma ki..

I mean , I love shyness , but I don't want to use my briefcase to enter my home everyday.

2. What's common between ego and dinosaurs ?

Both are dead now. That's right , her ego should be as dead as a thief in Mike tyson's home . I don't like people who have big blue whale sized egos . She should be like "You remember the time I burped loudly when we were having dinner with your boss's family ? HaHa. I am such a goof!". Maybe that's why I have never been attracted to any EGOIST girl , many of whom can't laugh at themselves .

3 . Kuch to log kahenge , logon ka kaam hai kehna .Tu bheje ka kofta mat bana .

Now that she would be married and assumingly exposed to a healthy dose of fat padosans and frustrated colleagues like most Indian women , a lot of junta soundbytes like 'How do you stay with this half crazed nut ?' and 'I know a pretty good divorce lawyer.You deserve a better life' and 'What ?? He comes back late these days ? You should talk to 'Husband-secretary-pol khol detective agency'. I don't want her to kill these padosans and colleagues and dump their bodies under our bed , but she should have a mind of her own to prioritise people and what they say. What most people think about me doesn't move a fingernail on me , and I hope she is kinda chilled too.

4. Tunnu munnu ke papa , chalo aaj 'Haseena maan jayegi' dekhte hain

Kasam Madhubala's smile ki , the girl who actually laughs at Govinda or Akshay Kumar's brand of exaggerated comedy is my kudi , because it shows she actually enjoys brain-less , 'bheja-bhool-ja' variety of antics , which gives her a clean ten extra points in my 'Kaun Banegi Meri patni' contest . Infact , I intend to ask her about this during the 'ladka ladki ek doosre ko jaan le , samajh le' stage .

Me - Hi . Have you seen 'Haseena maan jayegi' ?
She - Oh I love that one !
Me - Oh yeah . How about 'Jodi no.1' ?
She - Uee ma . Seen that 14 times.
Me - That's so touching . Mujhse Shaadi karogi ?
She - Wow , Akshay kumar was so funny in that one .
Me - Oye Basanti , not the movie , this is a real life question. Mujhse Shaadi karogi ?

5. Oh , bhaago Judge sahiba ayi !

I write nonsense . I am not asking you , I am telling you a fact I know . But I write whatever I want to write , rather than what you want me to write . Now a girl reads the stuff at this blog , thinks 'What an idiot he is' , leaves a 'This is crap . And now you are in trouble' comment , reports me to blogger for being a burden on the cyber dharti and calls up her connection in Dubai to get me killed by some Truck during my morning walk. I will marry a lamp post rather than this girl . I mean , the girl should not consider herself the 'I am perfect' , 'I will clean the system' , 'How dare someone be silly' headmistress type character . Chill maar yaar . I am having my fun the way I want to , just leave me to my stupid life , sweetheart .

6. Thoda hain , thode ki zaroorat hain

Her life ka basic funda of happiness should match with mine . I too enjoy my work , but I need to keep the big picture in place . If the purpose of her life is to be on the cover of a business magazine , I am cool. If she is willing to neglect her ( and hopefully , mine too ) kids for that , I am boiling . My priorities - my family , my kids , a happy environment at home. Money is a pen I need to script happiness and comfort for my family. If she loves the pen more than the script , she better marry some 'aag-in-the-belly' , high flying , busy business man whose kids have trouble remembering his face , mere pyare pyare gol mol baccho ko baksh de mrs CEO.

I have to put down two more points about the girl who shall marry me and get to say 'See that guy with the stupid face over there ? He is my husband' . But I don't really think I want pouty red lips or a rich dad in law or 'jheel see aankhein' , because life is not a movie where I can happily drown in her eyes and feel happy forever . Zindagi mein things have to be worked out and when I need her to understand and share my life , pouty lips or pink cheeks won't exactly be a very useful thing . So abhi bass itna hee mangta hoon hanuman ji. If you think you have it in you to be the first ever My soul , pick up your cellphone and sms D-I-V-O-R-C-E to 123 rightnow. Sms karne se kya hoga ? Kuch nahi . Aise hee paise waste karwa raha hun yaar.

Read any good book lately?

oh hell.

when i was a kid, life was so simple. didi had a rack of huge books which she had won over the years (and to which i added a few more); there were small ones & big books, racy thrillers, abridged classics, great stories from the past & greater tales of the sci-fi, ramayana & mahabharat, stories from the panchatantra & akbar-birbal, there were amar chitra kathas, there were jungle heroes like phantom & magicians like mandrake. there were heroes on a ship like Jim, and on a boat like Huck; there were smart ones like Tom & petrified ones like David; super sleuths like Hardy Boys & Jupiter Jone's gang. there was Sebastien vs Holmes & the ever dapper Poirot's egg-shaped head. there were knights on a round table, knights taking on windmills & knights fighting dragons, knights in chains & knights climbing on dark towers. there were betrayed knights & knights on a round table; there were heroes of the sea; madcap captains & bandy-legged sailors, wild whales & wilder seas. there were merry outlaws & dastardly ones. there was a sense of adventure infinite, in whatever i read or did.

you see, it was rather easy to become a bookophile in those times. there was simply too much magic in the air. and the shelf had plenty of books to read. so, whenever there was an afternoon to be whiled away, there was always some ready adventure to go on.

Cut to now. If what i had then was, say x, now i have 100x. The choice available to spend a lazy afternoon away has just expanded to include almost anything under the sun...or has it ? somehow, Coleridge is right across the centuries & contexts, when he says

"Water, water, everywhere,
And all the boards did shrink;
Water, water, everywhere,
Nor any drop to drink."

its just that now, i just have way too many books to read from, but not any one to read. somehow, the question: read any good book lately acquires a desperation quite contrary to its implied meaning.

somehow, the quest to find a good one is all the more harder, maybe thats because i have a lot..or maybe thats also because we've ceased to create classic literature any longer. the sort that could appeal even after a couple of readings and be just as inviting as it was at the start. i wish, for once, there was a book i could read without the creeping lassitude that comes along with it. a lassitude of having read that before, or of seeing that plot unravel the way it does eventually. Its like Orwell foretold,

A nation of warriors and fanatics, marching forward in perfect unity, all thinking the same thoughts and shouting the same slogans, perpetually working, fighting, triumphing, persecuting -- three hundred million people all with the same face.

Oh why, oh why cant there be something that remains inside your head for years with the exact same thought & expression as it was when you first read it. And till the time, something like this comes up, the desperate plea remains.. btw, read anything good lately

!!!

There are moments that last and those that don’t. Of the latter all one can ever recall is the fact of the existence while the former seem to define existence. Were it an empire I were charged with, perhaps I’d dwell on it longer than the vastness that confronts me now…

Standing on the porch gazing ahead,
For all that you try the eyes won’t see a bit,
The answers are close but would you dare to try,
Take a step forward or embrace the safety behind?
My life is a veil, my words a cloak,
Is there a crowning glory or a closet to behold?
A mind torn in half will you ever be,
Or a nestling staring down from the tree?

I walk you to the edge of the demon’s lair,
Is he a frightful spectre or are your fears to be feared?
Could you take a ride without the net,
And live in abandon with disaster’s silhouette?
Again and again the eyes cast restfully around,
When the mooring cut is there no shore to be found?
A hand outstretched, a life to forsake,
A peaceful sleep or a life of unrest?

Precipices stare up to greying skies,
The rope holds him back as he screams out in joy,
A father’s wish forever a curse,
When my list is all ticked, will my voice still be heard?
Your silence speaks to me a million words,
But the days still pass in a single blur,
The wait seems long; not as long as the time,
That I took to blink and put out of my mind

Standing tall atop the fallen ruins,
Seeing death of dreams and dreams of the real,
Painting the skies and darkening the stars,
The shroud fell again and hid away the unseen,
What eyes can’t see and minds never read,
Banished to the lands of the heretic’s realm,
The empire’s gone and all that remains,
Is the seal of time and the memories of pain