p e a c e.

so what does it take to make
your peace with someone?
a sorry. a phone call.
or maybe some writing on the wall.
a meeting over coffee.
a shared smoke. a tad too sweet tea.
flowers for the romantics.
apology in blood. more fancy antics.
a joke you can't help laughing at.
a kiss. a hug. a smile. the doff of a hat.
a word. a touch. maybe just good old silence.
with the moments ticking by
a fight.insults.fists.slaps
tears smarting and stinging the eye.

when all is well and ends well
and peace is made with someone
you sit back and wonder how long before
you make your peace with all that was said and done

great expectations

expectations.
what color are they? the grey of a pregnant cloud?
or the yellow-green of bile rising in your throat?
in what shapes and sizes do they come?
big round encompassing circles?
pointy skinny triangles that poke, no matter any which way you turn them?
how do they look like?
knitted eyebrows? wringing hands?
sheepish grins? sneering lopsided grins?
i would like to meet one of them.
look them in the eye.
and then walk away.
whistling my own tune.
down my own way.

the inner circle

sometimes i want to fly....far far away from them all
doubting thomases and peeping toms
snooty susies and cheap floozies
comments and opinions galore
politics and perspectives
attitudes and agendas
lilacs and magentas
bitch sessions. cat fights
and a whole lot of puppy love
cheap thrills. expensive tastes.
carbon emissions and plastic wastes.
what nexts and why mes
i-told-u-sos and let-me-bes
future planning, living in the present
getting in touch with the past
fashions that come and go
things that are built to last
tantrums, arguments and jealousy
joy, happiness and ecstasy
frustrations. disgust.
hunger and a lil bit of thirst
love and war
war and peace
peace and solitude
solitude and bliss
mourning and celebration
thumbs down. standing ovation.
wants, needs, cravings
the haves. the have-nots
and the we-dont-cares

sometimes i want to fly away from them all....
but i am a part of them. they are a part of me.

Unbreak...

habits made. habits broken.
promises made. promises broken.
hearts won. hearts broken.
trust earned. trust broken.
bonds formed. bonds broken.

a day to mend.
a lifetime to unbreak.

if...

if for every dream dreamt
there would be memories
if every regret entitled you
to a second chance
and each mistake made
could be undone
if every laugh laughed
could be held in the hands
and cupped to the ear
if for every nightmare
two hands would protect
and hold you close
if every moment spent
could be earned back
and spent again
if every tear that fell
tickled the lips
into a smile
if every thought that
crossed the mind
could be frozen for a second
and let loose again
if life could be lived again
through all the ifs
and enjoyed all the same...

Travel Drivel

It would be highly presumptuous of me to call myself a 'traveller'. As a child the only travelling I did was from my home to my native place for summer vacations and any other sundry holidays that dotted the calendar. Add to that the occasional trip to Pune or Mumbai to visit family and friends....that would pretty much sum up the travel diary of my early years.
But as I grew up, I had the good fortune of travelling to quite a few places, taking a few thousand photographs and doing the quintessential touristy things.

What amazes me even today is how we form a mental image of a place much before we even set our sight on it or foot in it. Earlier it was word-of-mouth - that "oh-so-reliable" source of information that made or mauled a place for us. And maybe an occasional postcard that a distant relative had sent from london - more to inform you that he is in london than to give you a dekko of the Big Ben and the big fat red buses.
My sister's stamp collection is largely responsible for my mental image of Australia being the 'pregnant pearl'Opera House and that of Kampuchea (which I later learnt is Cambodia) being a big fat half-green half-brown lizard with its tongue sticking out. Based on what the next door Kumars (or Silvas or Subramanians or Joshis, depending upon which latitude-longitude you are sitting on) say after their recent vacation to Singapore, you decide whether to mentally scratch it off your travel list or to convince your better-half about how it would make more sense to go to Singapore than to invest all that money in the stock market (what with the erratic sensex and union budget et al) and then spend the rest of your weekend sashaying on the streets of Singapore and giving a thousand-watt smile in front of the lion fountain..all in the Singapore of your mind.

I was jus doin a quick top-down of my immediate "must-see" list...and heres what i found:

Sicily : Old houses with balconies facing the road, bullet marks in their walls, old women sitting on porches sewing wrinkles onto little pieces of fabrics, men in suspenders with slick hair and lopsised charming smiles and mysterious ways, chunks of tomatoes drying in the sun, the smell of bell peppers frying in olive oil wafting onto the roads, faint music playing in the background. I guess it would not really take a Freud to guess where this one is from. and strangely, the whole mental picture is in black and white...

Calcutta : When you have two 'Bongs' (one dyed in the Bengali culture from head to toe and the other reluctant to be typecast as a Bengali and yet retaining a healthy nostalgia for the Calcutta of his childhood) giving you a healthy dose of Bengali music, "shorsher maach" and stories from the "DomDom ilaaka" and "Bara Bazaar" everyday (I hope I have got the pronunciations right....with all due respect) it is difficult not to fall in love with Calcutta. It has always meant to me wide streets with trams and cabs ambling by, women with big eyes and tiny puffs in the sleeves of their saree blouses, steam rising on the streets out of nowhere, the fervour of Durga Puja and spending days cooped up in an old apartment engrossed in writing a book as the sounds of the streets ride piggyback on the strands of light entering through the tiny crack in the window. Where 36 Chowringhee Lane meets Parineeta meets the Calcutta of my friend's stories....

This could just go on and on..right down to the last place on my travel list. And its the same story. Same vivid mental image- meticulously put together from fragements of hearsay, pictures, wiki and facebook, memories, movies and music. Just like a jigsaw puzzle. A montage.
I guess we almost always see a place much before we actually see it....

eavesdropping...

N: ...its just a temporary phase...this too will pass
K: even a storm eventually passes...but leaves in its wake
a trail of destruction...
N: hmmm....
dont worry..i won't let this draft turn into a storm
K: hmmm...

twilight zone...

when the dusk has just bade
its goodbyes to the skies
and the dawn is still away
by a few hundred miles
the twilight comes dancing
with twinkling stars in its eyes...

and it casts shadows
long, dark and brooding
so near, so close
you can almost hear their hearts beating
and all thats hidden, comes to fore
fear, confessions and a secret meeting

it casts a spell,
holds you in its sight
in a hyponotic hug
of no day, no night
no time nor any space
no wrong and no right

and as you lay entwined
in its magical glow
it sings its last song
and with a last bow
vanishes into the dark
with no promise of a 'morrow...