The Ghost of Past

The past revisited her today. The winds of which blew hard on her face leaving her fall apart. Kimaya felt speechless for a while. She did not know how to react after witnessing the latest development taking place in the life of someone who she liked to the core. ‘Like’ was just a word that she overtly used to justify her relationship to others for she knew deep down her it was much more beyond that. She hadn’t felt like that ever before and she also knew that she would never experience the same in the days ahead.  For a moment all the memories gushed back to her mind making her feel completely numb. The late night phone calls, the time spent in coffee shop and every other moment of intimacy surfaced to her mind. She had forgotten everything and burnt inside her the tiny possible feeling that she once had for him.  She had left her past way behind but it encountered her today. She wanted to run away but failed to escape…

Cakes and Weights

The two words mentioned in the title of my post share a very intimate relationship with each other. If I’d to explain it in technical jargon, I would say weight is directly proportionate to cake. That is, the consumption of cake brings a directly proportional change (at times twice as great) on to the weight. 

The reason I’m boiling down to this conclusion and which I strongly believe is quite close to being true is the apparent change in weight that I’m noticing in myself these days.  Please note, I have friends galore in office that hold the same perception and have witnessed similar deformities (though in initial stage) taking place in their bodies. So, this could not be called a figment of my imagination but validates the fact given above.  Some are worried about their recent bulge that has developed on their once flat bellies. While others are upset with the notion of been unable able to fit into their well fitted jeans.  To sum it all up, everyone surrounding me is vexed and considers Gaurav’s cake the major culprit to our agony and concern. Every time we have someone’s birthday in our office we, without thinking twice (and without even asking the birthday candidate’s choice), order the sumptuous chocolate cake. And the intake of this cake is pretty high in quantity and in number. For instance, we have not been half way through the month and we’ve already had the cake thrice. And there’re yet many more birthdays to go in July. However, if it is not a birthday then it automatically paves way for a farewell, an engagement or a marriage celebration. So in any case, its consumption becomes inevitable. Besides the cake that is topping the charts of making us put on weight, there are few other accomplices in crime. Their names are as follows:

1.      Fast Trax Rock Burgers

2.      Fast Trax  Veggie Burgers

3.      Pan Pizzas from dominos’

4.      Chinese from Shanhansha

5.      Shawarma from Albaik, NFC

6.      Other miscellaneous eatables from Nathus. 

And not to forget the American Cheese & Onion (lays) and the three BIG bottles of Cold drinks that always become a part of the feast by default. Their significant contribution to the same cannot be overlooked either.

Hence, the after effects of the aforementioned products and their continual consumption can bring a disheartening change in our shapes. So let me extend the title of this post as “Cakes, Weights & Shapes”.

Kindly suggest some fat free solutions to our problem ;)

A welcome note.

Winter season is at its threshold and I’m so much looking forward to it. This realization occurred to me when yesterday morning, while waiting for my bus, the sun shone bright on my face and I stood still receiving its warmth with full acceptance. The feeling was inexplicable. I could never enjoy the sunlight so much as I did at that moment of this entire passing year. I gradually took a step forward, tilted my head up, closed my eyes and let myself completely exposed to its heat. I was enjoying this one-to-one communication with the heavenly body “the sun” when suddenly my friend pulled me back from this thought process asking me to get on to the bus which had shortly arrived. 

Winter is one of the seasons that I enjoy the most. It enables me feel the environment and its surroundings to the core. The small little things that do not hold that supreme a position in my daily life suddenly become my priorities or maybe necessities. For instance, the feeling of clasping the steaming hot cup of tea with both the hands and savoring its small sips is just amazing. Nothing can beat the pleasure that I derive out of it.  The gush of cold wind blowing past me bringing my wet hair on my face simply makes me feel beautiful from inside. The idea of strolling on the street in the eve time with someone you enjoy conversing with fills me with enthusiasm and joy. Sensing strong hunger pangs immediately after having meal just at the sight of boiled eggs sold by the street vendors amazes me. Warming myself inside the quilt by rubbing my hands against each other comforts me. 

I believe I can never enjoy so many pleasurable moments in a single season as I can in winters. 

WELCOME WINTER WELCOME !!!!

A prologue to an incomplete post.

Ever since I’ve left Lucknow I haven’t updated my blog. I will not say that I failed to get time. There have been so many times when while sitting in the office I began to write something but every time it would just not come out. And if ever it did, then it would not be ‘me’. I would then leave it in abeyance. Maybe I’m having a dearth of ideas to write something on. Maybe I’m lacking expression power. Or maybe I’m getting all the thoughts in such a jumbled manner that I cannot segregate them in my mind. What is it that is bothering me, I cannot figure it out.

Today morning I again made an attempt in the hope of not leaving another write up incomplete. I was about to give it up when one of my colleagues suggested to continue with it. “Go ahead. Why are you not completing it?” she said. “Write anything. Blurt out whatever abstract you’ve in your mind. You’re not here to write for others. You write to ease yourself, to relax yourself. Let the world take it the way it wants. After all you don’t exercise a power on their thinking process, do you?” she continued. I pondered on her words for a while. They helped me calm down and made me feel nice from inside. My lips curved into a smile and I said “Ok, I will. Thank you so much”

Following this would be another post that I left writing halfway. I hope to see myself completing it now.

Q-U-E-S-T-I-O-N

How long would a conversation last if it did not have questions? One min, two minutes or at the most for five minutes ‘coz anything, to my belief, that goes beyond that range would be either a monologue or a thing that falls far off the periphery of a discussion.

    I, not long ago, tried doing this with my friend but ended up just looking at her face. I felt as if I had lost my power of speech. As if someone had tied up both my legs with a rope and then had asked me to walk comfortably. The dearth of questions left me feel the same way as any bound prisoner would feel. Everyday brings me to the realization that our actions are very much governed by these questions. Indirectly, though. Questions compel us to take decisions in our lives which further define our actions. Though at times we do get bugged off with so many Ws’ and an H (why, what, when and how) in our lives, imagine how boring and intricate would our lives be in their absence?

What would have happened if Newton ate the apple without questioning himself the reason of its fall?

Or if Archimedes did not ponder over the question (while bathing) as to why a small nail settles down to the bottom of water while a big jug doesn’t?

Ok. Let us not talk about these extra-ordinary people who spent years of their lives mulling over these issues and finally resulted in generating these widely acknowledged facts. Not everyone is gifted with a cerebrum like theirs and not everyone has the patience to work like them either.

Let us take the case of an average bloke. Right from the day he makes his first cry till the day he makes his last try (to remain alive) he tries facing and answering a plethora of questions. The day he comes out of his mother’s womb the father assures from the doctor, “Is he a healthy child?” Few months after his birth, relatives begin to ask, “What would you name him?” His sojourn as a student in a school would make him answer questions like “Why didn’t you bring your notebook? What do you mean you did not pack your bag last night?” Probably at the age of 16 (should I say sweet) he would find himself saying “Yeah I’ll take PCM with computers.” And God forbids if he happens to show his penchant towards subjects like commerce or humanities then he is in no better situation. As he graduates to college, his love hormones take a front seat and become quite rampant. It is at this stage he manifests his potential of facing the largest number of questions (mind you the number could be infinite too). The most favourite and of course reiterative of them would be “Why aren’t you listening to me?” Life becomes almost the same after this phase. A wife and a rude boss take over the position of a girlfriend and a stern teacher respectively. And many many many years later, he finally on his death bed answers the same person about his well being who replied on his behalf the very first day of his life, Doctor.

(Sigh)… I wish I could continue a li’l further, detailing more about the different kinds of question we face, but I guess my mother is asking me as to when am I going to help her do the dishes?

A reverie.

A life so hard, a life so tough
whenever I say this to god, he asks me to trust.
But what he fails to understand that I'm a normal being
who may not be as patient as he is but has her own follies indeed.
Who doesn't even know the significance of her being alive but craves to do something which could bring her to limelight.
Whenever she sits idle, often a thought crosses her mind. When would that moment come which would make her feel ecstatic with pride?
Often has she enjoyed herself in that reverie bur seldom has she tasted it in real.
"How does it feel to get something which one truly desires for?" she asks herself.
Listening to these words, a part of her takes her to the world of woolgathering where she fancies herself to be surrounded by her loved ones, all feeling happy for her.
She sees a smile of gaity on everone's face and believes that life could not be as good as this of today.
Suddenly a doorbell recalls her to reality and soon again a shadow of gloominess sets upon her.
She flutters like an infant bird to get back to her dream, but a voice within awakens her not to DAYDREAM.



(I'd made this attempt [to write a prose] a long time back but never thought to post it. I don't know what makes me do it today.)

A date with a stranger.

How would you define a date? Would you define it 'a social or a romantic rendezvous between two mutually compatible persons'? Or would you call it 'a simple yet special meet which just happens by chance', leave aside the different parameters such as compatibility, understanding etc. A meet in which you do not wish to speak AT ALL but wish to listen to him/her for endless hours. A meet in which neither of the partners know each other. Something similar happened to me a couple of days ago that completely left me mesmerized. I enjoyed each and every part of it. I know, may be at the end of this narration (which I’ll begin in a few seconds from now) you might say “What a crazy lass she is!” But that’s a part of ‘me’ and there is no denying that I really am. So, before starting off, let me take you to the flashback and help you picturize how it all began…..


 I was at a bookstore looking for a book when my eyes fell on this guy, who was quietly seated in one corner. He’d a thin seamless layer of hair on his upper lip and some beneath his chin. His looks precisely helped me conclude that he was in his late teens. There was something strange about him. He looked as if he WANTED TO TALK. I was busy doing this reasoning stuff when a polite voice retracted me from it. “Yes Ma’am, did you find anything for yourself?” the shopkeeper inquired. I right away removed my eyes off that guy and answered the shopkeeper that I needed some more time (to look at what?). It took me a while to resume my work for which I was there, when I was again interrupted; it was him, though. “Would you like to join me for a cup of coffee?” He asked. At the first instance I could not believe he said that to me but this is what I was expecting of him, wasn’t I? To strike up a conversation; may be over a cup of coffee. “Well, I don’t know even know you. Um I mean…” “Don’t worry. It’s just a cup of coffee. Plus, I’m new to this city and have failed to get a good company so far. So I thought….” “Aaa..what time is it?” I asked. “Oh, it’s quarter to 4. I’m certain we wouldn’t take more than an hour or so, trust me.” I could not help but nod my head in consent or may be I did not want to refuse.


We went to a close-by coffee shop and in a few minutes made ourselves comfortable on our respective couches, placed right across each other. By the way, I forgot to tell you that prior to my visit to the bookstore I’d a terrible argument with my parents. And probably that was the reason I decided to go out for a stroll, in the middle of which I dropped in at that store too. So, you can well imagine I was quite low and so were my communicating skills.


 So coming back to the scene at the coffee shop. I tried looking in all the different possible directions but not at him. Man, I was really nervous and my hands were all chilled and cold. I could feel his eyes on me which made me even more at unease. So I began to look at the television placed at a certain height. Everytime I've been to these coffee shops I've always found some music channel tuned on to the television. But this time some sport channel was on that I didn't have much knowledge of. So, I started concentrating more on it so as to deviate my mind and stop feeling nervous. Suddenly I heard him say to me "Would you like to have something?"  H E L L O!!!!....then what have we come here for? I think for coffee, haven't we? I thought. "in eatables, I mean to say. I'm sorry."  Was my inner voice that loud? Did I not say that to myself??  "Oh, it's ok. No, nothing. Thank You."  He immediately ordered two cappuccinos and looked at me again. He probably understood that I would not initiate so he kicked off the conversation by telling me how he'd been expelled from his school on account of failing in most of his subjects. Now, that made me raise my eyebrows but he didn't seem to have any qualms about it. Seriously, he absolutely didn't. He was pretty normal about it and hadn't decided what he would do next. Basically, he was on his way back to home and his visit to this city was only a part of his itinerary. He told me how he had screwed up his History test by writing all about geography and modern science except for history, which i really found amusing. "Do you know what I did after that?" He asked. I answered "no" with my head movement. "I left a note at the end of my answer sheet saying that this was all i could understand from my teacher's lectures though his lectures were indeed interesting. And the teahcer shouldn't feel bad in failing me coz i was already failing in the other subjects except for English", he continued. I almost fell off my chair laughing after listening to this. He further confessed that he wouldn't dare to laugh in a public place, for instance a movie theatre, like this. When I asked him the reason he answered "Well, i've this loud and stupid laugh that If i ever sat behind myself in a movie, i would probably lean over and ask myself to shut up." Man, this was getting interesting and so was his talks.


Slowly and gradually I started finding him appealing. I mean there was something in him which would not let me take my eyes off. My eyes were fixed on him and I would listen to him with the utmost care. He was humorous, sarcarstic, romantic, confused and definately a rebel. If ever engaged in a fight, he would imagine himself doing all those heavy action stunts but would not have the balls to execute them in his real life. Though he would (very smartly) place the blame on the movies for all his imaginative fantasies. One word, which I noticed, that he often used was "phoney". He would consider every goddam person/thing on this universe 'phoney', if it failed to perform or come along the way he'd wanted. For instance, if he ran into his long lost friend who was too intelligent, he would allege him a phoney (for being superficial or acting extra smart). If he met someone who was extremely dumb, he would call him/her phoney too. At times I found him act quite young for his age but at the same time he would say something which would immediately help me call him a 'matured guy'.
     I don't know, but he was a strange guy. One of his own kind and unique in his own ways. He was a flirt too and was indeed blessed with an art to charm any lady he would come across. I don't say it just because he could convince me for this evening, but on the grounds of the instances which he mentioned to me.


 Time passed, our second round of coffee was over, the sky even turned dark giving me an indication that it was time for me to bid farewell. After the conversation, I felt as if I fell half in love with him just as he would feel after seeing any pretty girl. I don't know when would I meet him next but I would truly treasure the time spent with Holden. Yeah, that's what his name was Holden Claufield. I closed the novel, put it inside my bag, paid off the coffee bill and left for my home.


P.S : I've often heard people say that one truly enjoys the novel only when one starts living with its characters. Or in other words they (the characters) start devouring you so much that you begin to converse with them or may be start identifying with them. This is what I experinced this time. I cannot recall after how long a period but I really did. And as Holden would often say "What really knocks me out is a book that when you're all done reading it, you wish the author was a terrific friend of yours and you could call him whenever you felt like."


I really wish to call Salinger on his brilliant work named as "The Catcher in the Rye" :)