Magic Pocket

The brief periods of surreal rendezvous are what make life worthwhile. Not Prada, not Ducati but these.

The little packets of boundless joy in time are stationed at some predestined locations and moments (space and time) which are a source of deep satisfaction and a frenzy of happiness teamed up with a vague sense of completion. All the existing energy in the universe is in perfect alignment in these pockets. Everyone is flawlessly carrying out their respective roles. Everything is in the right place, at the right time.

The voices from the history remain a mystery etching an image you can’t shake off or make a logical sense about. Hallucinations of another dimension from a different era, yet all from behind the veil of your own eyes creep in a distinct feeling of familiarity.

Nature’s blissful harmony is beyond perfection as the God’s symphony reverberates, piercing out through the pores of the body as the soul shudders. The time stands still for an instant like your presence in vacuum as you lose sense of space, before being sucked into a turbulent whirlpool of memories long forgotten.

The accumulated dust of monotonous cycle of routine is shaken off as a new rejuvenated, replenished and a healed soul soaked in salvation like contentment emerges from behind the thick curtains of oblivion. The heart rejoices as a silent prayer involuntarily escapes the tender lips to the heaven above with a subtly bowed down head. The golden rays gently kiss thy head as a blessing.

I happen to believe this was the closest I have come to experiencing, what I perceive is the Aleph.

You just walk straight into it but never walk out the same.

These magical pockets of divine intervention stir something deep inside you. They let you know you are alive. They remind you of your purpose.

भेड़ चाल

यह बुदबुदाती ख्वाइशों को रौंधते कदम,

अपनी ही कब्र की ओर अग्रसर |

विराम इन्हें दे कोई सपनों की डोर, 

खड़े हैं यह ख़ुदकुशी के तट पर ||

मन मस्तिष्क का टूटता परस्पर मेल,

न जूं रेंगी हिदायतों की, न काम ए गोपाल गिरधर |

हताश ह्रदय, बिखरा पड़ा क़दमों में, 

महत्वाकांक्षाएं छोड़ गई ठुमकती, रुख मोड़कर ||

धुन्दलाता सूर्य फीका सा, अस्त हुआ,

प्रतीत हुआ भेड़ का मुख, जहाँ होता था इंसान का सर कल तक |

दिशाहीन होकर दिशा में बहते जा रहे, 

किनारे आज तक कोई पहुँचा नहीं, परंतु जा रहे सभी किनारे पर ||

Image source - Jagran

Don't touch me

The chipped nail paint, the cracked heels, the tan lines of the torn flip-flops, the unshaved legs and the desperate toes clutching onto the bed sheet silently screaming, " Please don't touch me. Please !"

Please refrain from touching anybody without their consent.

Women are not your punching bag. Physical abuse is no way to vent your accumulated, deep dark anger. 

These incidents leave them scarred and broken for life. 

Can you take somebody doing it to you?

#stop_marital_rape
#stop_domestic_violence
#stop_physical_abuse

A letter to the man in the movie hall

Dear Man-who-came-and-sat-beside-Me

I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart.

It was the third week after the release of the blockbuster film I was desperately waiting to catch in the theater. None of my friends agreed to go with me, owing it to negative reviews and a stagnant excuse of having no time.

So I was on my own and on my own seemed like a breath of fresh air at that moment. I was excited to watch the movie I had waited for, with baited breath over these months, after they released the enigmatic first trailer.

I pulled into a pair of comfortable shorts teamed up with a loose Tee and I was good to go. I had forgotten how much I used to enjoy the alone outings, the self-introspection dates, the self-pampered saga.

With a playful jump in my step, swelling joy in my heart, I reached the cinema hall.

“Ticket for one, please”, I cooed.

Was there something wrong with me or was that sentence bound to get me an unusual look peppered with inquisitiveness and a slight dosage of pity?

Anyway, I drove away her weird look plastered in my head and trotted towards the Auditorium 1.

I scanned the area as I entered the hall and broke into a heartfelt smile as I see my seat exactly like I wanted it to be.

Now I knew the theater wasn’t going to be exactly full. Instead, only the top 4-5 rows would be occupied and that too being a weekday, the audience would majorly compose of the budding romantic couples and a few bunch of young boys scattered here and there.

I stumbled into the pool of darkness and I saw my glorious seat right there in the middle of the 2^nd row from the front of the screen. I glided towards it, plopped into its lap, stretched my arms and cracked my knuckles.

Let the show begin!

It was only at the end of the second trailer that I spotted you. From the corner of my eyes, I saw a protruding striped belly of yellow and green approach me stealthily.

By now I had my bare legs up on the neck-rest of the front chair, laid out and crossed. I had made myself at home and an intruder was not welcome.

However, the hall as it was, I removed my left elbow from the arm-rest and snuggled into the right half of my chair.

Now I wanted to ask you a few questions, you, a good man in your late twenties.

Why did you have to come and sit next to me when your allotted seat was 5 rows above mine and 2 to the left?

I shall think of it because you were alone and perhaps wanted a silent company throughout the movie.

So, the film started and now you were laughing at all the jokes I was giggling at. What was this creepy move supposed to mean?

And trust me I took me around 5 such hilarious scenes to pass after I sensed this pattern.

Well, maybe we must’ve shared the appreciation of a common taste of humor.

It was soon interval.

Though you hadn’t been much of a nuisance until then, except for dropping the popcorn you had been munching loud enough to distract me, on me twice and accidentally brushing past your arm against mine.

Now accustomed to this, as I was, I could bear having you around (I have seen worse) but I preferred the comfortable, alone golden- time over it. So I picked up my purse and moved three rows above while I had discreetly observed you leaving to refill the popcorn bucket, maybe for a few more missed aimed shots at my lap. But maybe that’s just far-fetched even for you. 

I tried to disappear inside the plush cushions as you entered. I could see you bewildered trying to locate me. The movie started and I was deeply engrossed in it with my 3D glasses cutting any side view distractions. 

That was when I heard your hoarse voice,” Excuse me! Can I sit here?” and immediately you did. 

I just sat there opening and closing my mouth like a fish, confused. I decided to concentrate on the movie. I wanted to be trapped inside my own mind palace then.

After it ended, I saw you stand up and instead of turning towards me for small talk, which I was positive of, you turned the other way and walked out. 

That was totally uncalled for. I need to mention, you took me by complete surprise, a fairly happy surprise.

I want to sincerely thank you for it.

I don’t know whether you had sensed my rising fear and discomfort or it was never your intention in the first place to ask for my number. Maybe I had my imagination going berserk.

But all the more, thank you.

Thank you for wiping clean my stereotype for every man I find staring at me.

Thank you for cementing my belief that I am free to watch a movie alone whenever I want, wherever I want.

Thank you for not following me that day or spewing any vulgar comments at me.

Thank you for giving me the world I think exists.

Yours thankfully,

The-alone-girl-in-the-movie-hall

A step out of home

It is a sinking feeling, this leaving home. I can never come to terms with it. 

No matter how many times I bid them goodbye and board the train, I am never ready for it.

It is similar to the fear of rejection of your first love, the fear of a failed examination, your best friend's betrayal or a missed train. The unfathomable pit in the stomach and the heaviest lump in the throat cementing my feet to the cold hard floor. 

The floor which was warm and playful, where Maa (mother) tells I took my first steps, in a blue white striped frock,curling my dainty fingers on hers, swinging from side to side barely maintaining the balance. 

I collapse under the power of her sweaty wrinkled palm on my bowed down head. I slowly bat my eyelashes to catch the sight of Dadi's (grandmother's) disappearing arched back as she hobbles around the house to collect my clothes so as to wash them again as the washing machine cannot do justice to the cleanliness she desires. 

Papa (father), my teleportation man for when I would sleep on the coarse sofa with one leg dangling in the air and wake up in a cocoon of white muslin sheets.My Santa Claus!

I try to swallow the lump to the abyss but to no avail. My lips are dry and eyes are moist. I cannot bear the weight of disappointment in the pleading hazel eyes of Bhai (brother) asking me to stay for another day. Bhai (brother) who would save money all round the year, coin by coin, to gift me my favourite pair of brand new shoes that I had been eyeing for a while.  

I convince myself every time before I leave my hostel to go home for the holidays that it is because of the good food, the clean linen, the hot shower and free WiFi that I want to go there. It is a well-rehearsed lie. The one I take to the bed with me at nights.

But then here I am on my last night home and the truth bolts for freedom through the tightly sealed emotional well. And it gets away with major intensity, never fails to break me down to pieces. Tiny tiny pieces.

This is a place where I can sleep. Not just rest my head on the pillow and stare at the ceiling till my eyes are sore and my brain can take no more. 

This is where I can lay my guard down because of all the places on this planet, I know and I know for sure that nobody here, nobody is trying to hurt me, take benefit of me, is jealous of me, wants to push me down or betray me. This is where I can be myself and no one judges me. This is where I am truly happy. This is one place where my success means more to them, than to me. 

I can laugh my heart out here, cry the darkest shades of black , shout at the highest shrillest pitch, throw tantrums like a baby and they will still bear with me. No, love me. They will stick with me because that's what family does, that's what home is. And it is never easy leaving home. 

The harsh reality dawns upon me as the turmoil builds up. The cruel world, the mighty tornado, waiting to suck me in , in a brutal dirty world of ugly two-faced people, poverty, epidemics and hopelessness. 

As a reflex, I recoil back into the warmth of Maa's (mother’s) chubby arms, safe arms. She cups my face in her lotus like hands and plants a big wet sloppy kiss with the muaaah sound being the sweetest symphony ever to have reverberated my ear drums. 

I let her familiar body fragrance engulf me, every cell in my body breathes. A prayer escapes my parched lips to the heaven above as I trudge out of the black gates with heavy footsteps and a hollow heart. 

Until next time, until next time.           

https://youtu.be/z3TRarAzHEI