Tuesday, December 24, 2013

Winters

Winters always carry the string of Love wrapped with fog and cold waves to keep lovers closed in arms of one another. However, for Daksh love is not around anymore, rather love for work. Like other days, he found himself late for his work. Rushing to the stairs at old railway station, he encountered a girl. He dropped his bag with a book of Nicolas Sparks slipped from her hand. He picked book to apologize.

“Oh I’m sorry.” He said when picked the book. However, he stubbed her. Kanika, his reason for present love lost from past.

“You are late like always.” She said when they stuck their eyes to each other.

“Nope, I have not changed.” To this, they moved to the platform, but on split steps. Kanika took a corner of only bench on the platform. However, Daksh kept checking his watch. There was not any sign of next passenger to Amritsar. Kartarpur has never been a railway station of regular trains. Therefore, people know a few numbers of trains that passes through this station.

“Saala, when would this passenger train come?” he murmured. “This country has no future.” It was silence around enough that even station master, coming out of his room, heard him.

“You should start coming on time, may be you will see a change.” The master said. He knew that Daksh always miss his first passenger to Amritsar.

“It’s so cold,” Kanika said at last. “Uncle, aaj chaiwala nahi aaya?” she asked further to the Master. Daksh looked around if there was any Chaiwala. He could not find any, and then finally lost to fog covering the station and nearby area.

“Arey, there he is” the master pointed to chaiwala. “Get two cups of tea here.” He ordered. It echoed in the fog of silence, where a very few people were waiting for the chariot of their respective destinations. Under the hazy light at station, Kanika kept her eyes more glued to The Notebook, she was reading. However, her intention was to ignore Daksh.

On same bench, but grabbing the corners they looked at one another though. On right, Daksh had nothing, but rubbing his hands to keep heat in the body. It was silence around which prevailed until chaiwala interrupted.

“Saheb Chai.” Chaiwala said while pulling out a cup from his steal cup holder, and moved to Kanika to handover her cup of tea. She did not have one-rupee change to pay, but Daksh paid for her as well. She pulled a packet of cookies, offered to most ignored person to pay her gratitude. Although faltering he refused twice, and so she did not proffer to him again.

“Nicolas Sparks” he said to her when picked a cookie. “He never left you uncovered under any circumstances.” She roused her eyebrows to his statement or because he finally pulled out one.

“I also read other authors.” She replied, while sipping her chai. “Like?”  He asked further. The old fronds of trees were falling with cold wind. She draped herself again with shawl and stopped flipping of pages with cup of tea. On only platform on the station, ticking stopped to show them that they were moving back to talks.

“Paulo Coelho, Jennifer Cruise, Jhumpa Lahiri, Smita Shetty” she paused. “And recently Daksh”. He spilled a little on his name.

“Did you just say my name? I thought I don’t have you as my reader.” He said. Certainly, he got one reader he was waiting for months to be in his list. Nevertheless, the booklover had ignored the fact of being favorite reader for a writer.

“You were true if you had not used my name in your story ‘Ripples of Love’.” She continued further. “Who were they, Hero and Heroine in the story?” He looked at pages of book.

 “What do you think who were they?” he asked her.

“I have no idea, that’s why I have asked you.”

“She portrays you.” He said while putting his empty cup down. “You see these pages with traces of the round, marked by chai.” He pointed to the book, and she rolled her eyes to the pages. Meanwhile, the station then started to have more commuters.

“They are the smudges of love in life.” He completed, but she stayed her eyes there for a while.

“Then why did you name their daughter on me in the story?” she was getting involved to the box of secrets of story. An old fellow asked her to pick her belongings. She picked her book, and slid towards him.

“I don’t know if you really liked the story or what, but why are you getting more into the behind the story?” Slowly the fog disappeared, with sun coming up to brighter. Station had an announcement for coming of train to Amritsar from New Delhi. “To be very true, Kanika is a beautiful name.”

“It was you who walked away that night?” she got some heads turned to her. However, She looked away to make it absurd for others to keep on waiting for the train. A minute later, train entering the station, horned. He picked his belongings as he did that night. She kept waiting for any reply, but she closed her book.

Before he could board the train as routine, he turned to her again. “But you never stopped me.” He paused. To this, she had a reply. However, she did not say anything again.


Winters are not about the falling fronds, on paths to make crunchy sound by footsteps. Winters are not either about the nights under the blanket to save oneself from cold winds. Winters are the touch of the sun on the dermis when breeze romances with the body. Winters bring in the love, under the tree even with falling out old leaves; however hope of new life ahead.

Tuesday, December 10, 2013

Ripples of Love

Clear sky with white lining of clouds, under the blanket of the shining sun, he looked around to find his adored song of life, Geet. It was very crammed full with people here and there with bags of shopping. Some women with men to hold the bags, and some people were in-group holding up bags for themselves. He inspected his pockets to find his mobile.

“Gita, you need to stop….” Rachit heard and thought it was Geet, when he pulled out his phone. However, to his eyes, there was not any Geet around. He tried to call her, when he ended up no network coverage every time. “She supposed to be here.” He said to himself. He started moving to place she could be entering the market place.

It was not like lost always. They both were one as an essence to ignore the world around. Cipher and songs they listened as one, on some tapped foot and other they just counted stars all dark. Clock had sound on wall of their house, but to them time was never ticking. He goes to his habitual work, once dropping her at her workplace. However, last night…

“You never told me about these friends of yours.” He asked when saw a picture of her. In the picture, they were her friends, who she is not familiar with anymore. She was like other days preparing for the dinner.
“I suppose something need not to be told but interpreted.” She kept stirring the pan. “Perhaps, you don’t need to know a few things.” He stood dazed. She insulted the trust mayhap. Then he walked away for wrangle to end there only.

She noticed him go, but did not utter anything. She wanted to share something to him. A life, he might be waiting to hear. She had placed an envelope on table. A number of drops fell down her dimpled chicks. The special night all together called off. He walked streets for a mile. Then on roadside, he halted to reinvestigate his move. For all love and trust, he himself reminded of days of their past together. A beautiful house they bought, with a room for the kid, he wanted to have to make his life complete. Kanika as name decided for the girl and Ranveer for the boy. They both were at different places, but still going through same thoughts. Late night, he returned to house, and found her on bed lying. He took sofa for the night.

Next day, everything was on its place, but Rachit on couch. On his waking up, he found blanket over him, and a note on table. The note says:

“Going to market for groceries”. She certainly had forgotten the previous night, he thought. He saw the envelope addressing Geet from Dr. Sethi. The envelope contained a report that stated the condition of Mrs. Geet Gupta. He jumped and rushed to the bazaar.

Back to Marketplace:

She was, with two bags of some groceries and vegetables in hand, standing on other side of the road. She found her beloved perplexed in the crowd. She stepped towards him. He saw her walking out of crowd. With no delay, he swiftly walked to her, and hugged her. Astonished she treated him to a coy smile.

“Why did you not tell me?” he said at last. “Because I wanted it to be a surprise for the last night.” She replied with wet eyes.

“I am sorry.” He cleared her eyes. “I love you and Thank You.”


Note: This is a Work of Fiction. Rachit and Geet are fictional characters.

Sunday, May 12, 2013

That's Me, She came for all the way.


Oh My Sunday of Summer,
Packed Surprises of You Stay Marked,
Never Been so Delighted to know,
But Steps ahead won't Come Easy.

She is girl friend of That Nerd,
But books, she has to talk with,
Pleasant Weather of Surprising Sunday,
Made Her lost all the way.

Busy nerd Grasped more of Science,
Little Heart of Mine kept Buzzing,
Name of Her, My Angel,
In hope of Beauty in My Arms.

Down the Town, she stands there,
the Weirdo din't show up again.
then She can't stay there Anymore,
and She has to look for someone, who she know.

with Moist in eyes, she kept on walking.
and I, on Next Street, moved for Better Sunday.
But at Crossroad, She got Me there,
Words of my Lips Fumbled again.

But She Has few better words to say,
"I came for you, Dear."
That's Me, She came for all the way.
That's Her, I don't have to wait for again.

Thursday, May 09, 2013

Chocolate


Packed in different sizes, wrappers, with certain added flavours like milk, nuts, crunchy, it always tastes sweet. Every bite of it is finger licking. Be it festive season or be it romantic night, one always like to gift it. Happy or sad, it is always Mood Refreshing.

Last night, sitting on the edge of window of my room, i did not have anything else to think on. It’s just me, tree's shed and my beautiful moon. The more I was looking into the sky, the more tears were on their way. No right these tears have to show the mood, but yes they are confusing.

“Zoommm…zoommm” my mobile sounded.

“Hello!” I said to Prem on other side.

“Rotee raha kar humesha.” He said.

“I am not crying at all.” tried to control my chocked voice.

“Shut up! Look down you idiot. I am standing next to tree. Aur tere ye ‘Abb-e-Chashm’ mujhpe gir rahe hai. Sambhal inhe.” He laughed.

Two minutes later, he was sitting next to me. He just slapped me and asked me the reason. He knew it very well, but still he want to know from me.


“Aren’t there any Night,
Found you Next to me.
Heading eyes to empty sky.
Tried to Escape every Night.
But your Hand was Holding Me.

Asked you to Untag me,
Told you, I am for different.
Reason not to be answered,
It's just you have different of me.
But your Hand was Holding Me.” I recited few lines of Gulfam.

“Look at me.” He said and I followed his instructions.

“Now would you like to pour out or shall I call him right now.” He sounded aggressive now.

“Come on Prem, you know it, tu abhi call karega toh aur panga ho jayega.” I replied.

“Bas naam ki hi Meera hai tu.” He laughed again.

“Shut up yaar. Majak ka mood nahi hai.”
He reached for his pocket and pulled out a purple coloured pack, labelled Dairy Milk. Like always, we both share a chocolate while on evening walk. But last night, we did not hit apartment roads.

“Sanjay said I am selfish. I do not care for him. He thinks our relationship is just artificial. He is not compatible for me.”I poured my heart out.

“But you know how much I love him. Why do I always have to justify our relation.” I continued.

Holding my hand, he offered me chocolate. Yes, chocolate the sweet coco from Brazil mixed with some milk. I do not know if chocolate was able to handle different mood. But it always works out for me.

“You do not have to justify anything. If he loves you, then he must trust you. A relation cannot build on such foundations. Just relax and don’t worry everything will be alright.” He said.

“How do you know?” I asked him.

“Because I know.” He replied and made me smile for the moment.

The beauty of friendship is, it is like chocolate. A dark brown sweet wrapped in purple coloured pack, mixed with nuts and cashews.

Whenever you have it around, you feel good and safe. It never makes you cry, but certainly help in to stop crying. Sweet as Chocolate, he is none other than my best friend.

Tuesday, May 07, 2013

It was Nothing Like New


Sunny day it was,
With the brighter sun
Making me feel shine
It was nothing like new
Then slowly wind blew
The colder it was
I felt like fly far away
Or just hung a rope to a bird

Then realized the day more
Brighter sun and breeze
It was nothing like new
But a month of March
In the city of Beas
But Manali they call locally
Walking down the road
Adjacent to the beauty

Beauty, the city and the lady
I realized more about the day
The black strings covering her face
At times, when wind pass through
The sun felt her smooth
Body on the other side
The day became brighter
But red faced I was standing next.

Now it was new
Pictured like Shakespeare’s Juliet
Right hand resting at her waist
She walked with me
For next few more miles
It was new like a dream.
The day slowly fading away,
White on hills turning orange.

Beauty still remained the same,
Fascinated by you, My lady
Day was never like this before.
Yes, it was new for me.
Suddenly, supply chain shook me.
Assembling all scattered points,
Realised the day more,
It was nothing like new, but a Dream.

Sunday, May 05, 2013

The Thirty First of February



With the continuous flashing of Breaking News, I realized a change in Undramatized Hindi News Channels. An accused in the case of a rape was sentenced to hang to death by Majesty John Singh Khan in Raipur High Court. The country had never thought of such state.

Last day only, a police officer had slapped an MLA for beating up a common man on the road. The Officer arrested the minister and lodged a case against him for misuse of the power. Number of Mahabali’s and Goons in our legislative system is way too less than that are behind the bars. Streets are safe 24×7.

While catching up with the latest of the world, I heard a knock on my door. To my no surprise, it was Shaurya, my friend. He had a book, titled Quran.

“Ahh, so you finally got it.” I exclaimed.

“Yeah, and I hope you are ready to hop in.” he asked.

“Let’s go.” I replied, picking up my bag.

Shaurya and I are college friends. Since the very first day of the college, we both have a great bond. We never thought of getting selected in the same company as well. We both work at Kingfisher Sports Management as Marketing Officer and Sales Manager. Well, Kingfisher is world’s second largest sports company Sahara Group only. Indian Origin brands are making their mark in every field throughout the world. The Micromaxs and Karbonns are fighting for the top position in the market of Mobiles and Tablets leading to American and Chinese companies trying to copy every bit of Indian Ideas. Besides Indian Democracy being largest, it also has command over major portion of the world.

Car pooling was nothing new. Shaurya got his car to pick me and Shaun to our office. Other than girls, we had politics and corporate to chat about. But that day Shaun had something else to talk about. He told us about the dowry system Indians had 300 or more years ago. I did not have any idea about it, other than bookish knowledge. He also added that women were sold like any other commodity in the market. I was surprised to hear such sorry state of women back in the time. Someone surely had worked hard to abolish that state of women. Now, they are free to do anything at anytime.

“You know what I recently read a new word ‘Religion’.” Shaurya said while keeping car on right track.

“How is it spelled?” I asked him. “What does it mean?” I added in the same breath.

“R-E-L-I-G-I-O-N. The word means ‘an institution intended to influence people in the Name of GOD. It’s like a terrorist group which intended to create havoc in the mindset of people.’” Shaurya explained.

“They must be a fool to believe in such an institute.” Shaun replied.

“Guys, I am planning to try for a Government Job. What do you think?” Shaun asked further.

“Aahaann, and that’s the reason Shaun is working on history and other influential topics. Well, if you work hard surely you’ll clear it.” I replied.

“Here we are.” Shaurya said, while parking the car. That’s how my day starts. That’s my Thirty First of February, a daily routine. A state where politicians mean leaders and administration means public employees. A state where women are actually be respected. A state where we don't know meaning of Religion, but God through Hearts. An India which is actually is called as Super Power State.

Note: It’s a Routine of India which has never happened, and possibly won’t happen in near future.

Characters (Shaurya, Shaun and Gulfam), their work life and this story are work of Fiction and An Idea.