MY MUSKETEER

Time was dusk and the wind severe

He held me firmly, my musketeer.

Against the wind, hand-in-hand,

Our love, even nature, couldn’t reprimand.



Miles we walked, all ties we broke,

I felt his warmth, his caring stroke.

The sun sank, spreading a darker hue

But we were in no mood to bid adieu.



My head met his shoulder…

His palms were in mine, soldered…

He listened to my words.. unspoken…

Together, we walked all paths, untrodden…



Then, unpleasantly, he loosened his grip,

And my heart took a minor flip.

But then our eyes met and there was no longer fear...

I bade goodbye… in anticipation, of meeting again…… MY MUSKETEER

Prisoner of the past………

The sun was gradually receding into the horizon. The sky, a blend of liquid red and metallic orange, didn’t seem the same it had the last time. With knees drawn to my chest, I had been sitting on the beach for almost an hour but the attraction around had failed to grab its frequent visitor’s attention today.

The sea, that reflected the colours of the sky, seemed liked a fireball and I felt that it intended to wrap me up, everything around me had an urge to swallow me up. Never had I felt so insecure, so lonely, so despondent.

If nothing, then solitude will kill me. I thought.

‘Careful Jay’ said mom as I rolled up my trousers to step into the water. I dragged myself and my younger sister Jiya against the waves, till we felt the water at our knees.

From there I could see dad waving to us and mom munching on her salted peanuts and talking to him. There were hardly times when dad and us were successful in getting mom into the water, hydrophobic, dad used to call her. Dad, who had much of his youthfulness alive, wished to join us, I guess, but this time, he preffered to stay back and accompany mom on the shore.

After a while, I and Jiya helped ourselves back and then ate the warm snacks that mom had bought from a nearby stall. We equally digged into it as mom and dad continued talking about things, things I didn’t understand, or rather I didn’t try to understand. I hurried to pick up the last piece and Jiya snapped ‘Bhaiyya……’. I liked it when she got angry as I irritated her.

Though not into chest-deep but we were successful in dragging mom into foot-deep water and there were we, a nuclear family, hands chained, feeling the world around us, the waves rushing in trying to steal our happiness but unsuccessful, feeling the winds’ thrust against our bodies, I closed my eyes and then opened. I found people capturing the sunset moments.

It happens daily but each day it looks differently beautiful. The beauty of things lies in the eyes of the observer. Every moment you look back, you can find the Knight of death nearing you. Life’s short, made of endless beautiful moments. Glorify each moment as you live it. Dad used to tell.

‘Bhaiyya…………’

I was jolted back to reality.

‘Could you please pass on the ball ?’ a boy aged around 5 shouted.

Back from the cremation ground, having witnessed the fire engulf my dear ones, I was no more alive. How destiny had played its role in killing my mom and the driver on the spot,leaving dad and my sister with injuries to which they had to ultimately succumb and me with not so severe bruises all over the body. I still could feel the jerk as the Scorpion collided with a truck on the highway on the way back from our hometown.

I threw the ball to the gang of young boys and watched them play. I wished, I was one among them with parents always present to look after.

I got up and walked towards the kids and then joined them. They were too happy to have a senior amongst them.

As we played, I asked ‘Where are your parents?’

The oldest among them, who hardly aged 10 replied, ‘We are orphans from the Daffodils Orphanage’ and there was silence all around.

I remembered the day when I had visited the Daffodils Orphanage with my family, right on the other side of the beach.

We are orphans.....

I felt a striking sense of similarity and bonding with the boys.

I left them playing and walked towards the water. The waves rushed harder this time. I closed my eyes, and heard dad saying…

We have the slightest notion about the next moment for every next moment is future. You can either choose to be a prisoner of the past or strive to become a pioneer of the future. All you need to do is cherish every moment of the present!

My feet sank into the sand beneath. I turned and walked back, the waves cleared off my footprints.

I had chosen the latter.

TERROR TREE

From the tree that stood sturdy

Terrified, flew off a birdie

No sooner had it foreseen the danger.

Holding an axe, approached a stranger.

No second thoughts, he brutally hacked

Off fell the tree and loud it cracked.

No blood shed, though the wound severe,

Only roots now remained as an arrear.

Weapons different but goal similar,

Armed with intentions solely to devour,

A terrorist, set out, unaware of his folly

Transforming tranquility into melancholy.

Terror rose high up in the air

Scattered below lay victims' cadaver.

While blood oozed out from the wounds’ orifice

And seeped deep in through ground’s crevice.

As every life gets slaughtered,

The wounds get more and more rooted.

At once, they’ll sublimate out of freeze

When sufferings become beyond increase.

THE CRUISE OF LIFE

He’d chase the multihued butterflies

But that alone won’t suffice.

Days, deprived of all hassles,

Were spent, building muddy castles.

The river water, clear and pristine,

Reflected his face, dirty, but divine,

Carried his paper boats afar

As the aroma filled in, with the first shower.

Surfaced he mountains with supernatural zest

And poised atop as if he’d conquered Mt. Everest.

Without the slightest fear of any jeopardy,

Undaunted, he tread on life’s trajectory.

Happiness, for him, was a matter of pick

Widespread as an air-borne epidemic.

Life had never been a smooth sailing cruise

Where success came only with a scar and bruise.

Life, if looked at from a child's perspective, the way he struggles to accomplish minor tasks and discovers happiness in them, unaware of tomorrow, fearless of the present, can always be lived better.

Love - The upper Meniscus

‘Tomorrow, 11 am. And I need the files done. I hope you get it Mr. Adit.’ exclaimed Rambo grumpily.

He was the divisional head, and had a head that functioned divisionally. His waist coat never reached out to his waists and the buttons tried their best to remain intertwined to the large loopholes across his chest. He always had a perfectly contrasting tie on, that seemed suffocated and peeped out seeking for help.

I turned and walked towards my cabin muttering out all possible suffixes that suited him. I guess, prefixes suited his name Ramesh Balakrishna Reddy alias Rambo more.

The clock showed 4.05 pm and I was at my desk. The cup of hot coffee trying to get cozy with the steamy pakodas was left unattended. They continued to stare sheepishly at each other and gave me nasty glances for treating them as unwelcomed guests.

The consignment meeting with Flamingo Exports was scheduled for the next week and I was already done with half of the file assignment. So I had shamelessly walked in to request for an early departure for a day from this not so friendly flite.

Today was the reunion day of the 2001-02 batch of Xavierites in Hotel Sapphire and Adit, the then star of St. Xavier’s, now overruled by Rambo, the comet, was denied an exit from his galaxy. This comet, unlike the real ones, didn’t grant a single wish, perhaps, he was envious of the fact that he can never, in his lifetime, attend a reunion party of his graduation school. Poor Rambo!

Grapevines say that he had failed to clear his 10+2 examination even in the third attempt and that the designation of a divisional head of Seagull Pvt. Ltd. was a part of the dowry he gained for accepting a widow as his wife. Well, none to blame, marrying a widow is much appreciable than clearing an exam in the fourth attempt!

‘Good Bye Mr. Adit. Take care to see that I don’t regret having suspended you for not completing the assignment within the stipulated time’ said Rambo and hurried himself an hour earlier than usual.

Well, it will be me who will regret for not getting suspended, you overweighed bull!!

The pre-monsoon showers lashed the city.

Rambo would never ever get drowned but float in case of a flood. I thought.

I walked out of the cabin to re-energize myself for the unnecessarily assigned load and to get rid of the nostalgia that had commenced its role in plying over my thoughts.

But nostalgia is a strong feeling and it gets hold of you with no intentions to leave.

The next cup of coffee looked at me and expressed a desire to be drunk. I set the files aside, took the cup of coffee and dragged myself lazily into the couch that lay adjacent to the French sliding. I took the first sip, mannerlessly, making some noise, as droplets drizzled over the sliding. I watched them move from top to bottom. Heat from the coffee tried to settle as fog on my glasses. It appeared and reappeared as I blew to take another sip.

What I couldn’t blow away was my college memories. They began flashing, one after the other, like a slideshow that had been set, my friends, some best, some good, some bad or worse, their sight quite appealing.

My love, Rhea, her curled up hair, her wide eyes and mascara applied eyelashes could do nothing but stare at me for we hadn’t caught each other’s glimpse or exchanged words for 6 long years. She bit her own lips as she smiled through, a sign of her blushing and her cheeks readily reddened all of a sudden that beautified her dusky complexion. I had almost got up and hugged her!

I was on the guitar, busy rehearsing for the annual day performance. She sat on the front row of the auditorium, tapping her toe to the music I played. By the time the annual festival ended, Rhea, labeled as the shy girl of the 2^nd year BCom class, had become the music of my life, the string on my guitar, that sounded the sweetest when struck.

She was the best friend that I could ever get. No proposals, no dates, but we both were sure that one of us would die in the other’s arm.

Bunking classes was an infrequent phenomenon for we had the best of teachers who instead of making us learn commerce saga by rote, developed an ability to think independently and procure the finest commercial outcomes.

The canteen, the freak-out zone, ever filled with hubbub of activities, provided food equivalent to the one from mom’s kitchen.

My mouth watered, on the thought of the paneer masala that Govind kaka used to serve to our group of notorious five, me, Rohan, Vishal, Neel and Sarthak. Rhea, too joined us occasionally. I and Rhea, enjoyed the fruit falooda together, in stealth and most of the times landed up sharing our romantic moments and more than half of the falooda with my food geek buddies.

A day after the final year examinations, I vividly remember, it was a Tuesday on the 7^th of April, 2002. I had never gifted Rhea anything more than a greeting card, but this time I had bought a ring with diamonds studded over to form a heart shape, for her birthday.

She didn’t turn up that day. My calls went unanswered. I couldn’t dare go to her home and check out the matter for she had a dad who was more of a businessman, than a father, who may win ‘The Grumpy’ title with Rambo as the competitor.

She didn’t turn up the day after, nor on the days that came and went. Its then I came to know that her father, under the pretext of admitting her for pursuing higher studies, had sent her to Delhi, may be the knowledge of our relationship had been the trigger, where he had found another businessman as a groom for his daughter.

Vishal was a native of Delhi and could easily locate Rhea. I couldn’t believe my senses when I heard that she was under kind of house arrest until her wedding took place.

Has business taken over his common sense? Did business mean everything to him?

I wish I had born in a family of businessmen. My mom, a school teacher and dad, a singer and composer couldn’t have produced a son who would do well-off in businesses. I was a loser even in love business!!

The passage of time played its role as a healer of all wounds. I had switched jobs thrice before settling in with Seagull Pvt. Ltd. as the assistant accountant since the past 2 years. There was hardly any Xavierite who was not on my contact list, and Rhea, though not contacted, ever remained concatenated to my soul that had left my status single till date.

A streak of lightning flashed and the clock showed half past 6. The next thing I did was took out a plain white paper and sat down to write a letter, the resignation letter. I sensed myself as a winner as I imagined Rambo reading it the next morning. I knew nothing but that I will be attending the reunion party even if Rambo comes with a gun, riding on a horse.

I will tickle the horse and the horse, in turn, would smash Rambo on the ground, the impact causing Rambo to fire at himself. No court would ever punish me for tickling a horse!!

The excitement of meeting everyone was getting over me. I wore a black suit with a turquoise tie on, that was Rhea’s favourite colour, though I had the strongest belief that she won’t turn up this time either, and I won’t be able to say how much I loved her. Even if she ended up landing, she would have her husband as an escort, and two kids, may be more, and would be devoid of all the attention I’ll be paying to her.

As I entered the dimly lit hall, I found faces that were quite familiar yet difficult to identify, if it had not been for this reunion party. Some were chief accountants in leading MNCs, some others had got into family businesses, and so on. Enmities apart, well now, we couldn’t even figure out the reason for which we had fought during college days, we were under one roof, free to resuscitate the teenage days out.

The magnificent chandelier that hung from the ceiling made patterns over a face, making it difficult for me to identify her. My heart skipped a few beats when she came nearer.

Aah… Rhea…. Is that you….??

Yes, you stupid coward… its me.

She hadn’t looked beautiful anytime before. I looked around for the presence of any escort but found none. She was all alone.

‘For whom are you looking around when I’m standing right in front of you?’

I cleared my voice and said ‘ No, no one Rhea. I ain’ t dreaming, right?’

‘No, not all Adi.’ she said, adjusting my tie.

She sobbed over my shoulders. She spoke about things that no girl could have managed to suffer. And my bonus lay in there, she wasn’t married!! Her marriage was broken off with an ease of a business deal as her dad was unable to gift his son-in- law a 10 lac bond that he demanded on the eve of ceremony. Having had a marriage broken, girls were considered to be having evil powers in them and no guy would dare marry such a girl in their village. Her dad would never accept a man of his daughter’s choice but would happily see her remain unmarried all her life.

She had got the invitation letter for the reunion and after much hue and cry, was sent out on bail from house arrest, with the condition that she would never return back.

I took her hands. ‘You’ll be keeping your word. You won’t return back. You’re all mine now.’

And we danced to the music that played until we sensed all eyes fixed upon us.

We stopped and everyone applauded. She blushed and even I did blush, having found my lost love.

…………Rhea had come with all the good fortune. Rambo was the chief guest of our wedding ceremony. He had called me up and had asked to withdraw my resignation.

He couldn’t have done with the assignment himself. You should have done it long before, you stupid, coward!

But the coward had attempted a dare and got the best reward…. His love!!

EYES ALONE SPEAK

There was a knock on the glass pane of my latest obsession, a Maruti Suzuki 800. I quarter spinned my head and found myself looking into the eyes of someone I used to imagine as an angel while mom narrated fairytales to me and my sister during childhood days. This angelic girl, had an aura, I guess, and her eyes, as if reflecting everything under the sun, were slightly moistened which made them extraordinarily glisten .

I unwound the pane handle to lower it and she smiled. Her smile came in as a broom that swept my mind clean. I looked and looked into her eyes until the traffic jam allowed me to.

‘Ma’am, do you need one?’ Her voice came, slightly extending a hand that firmly held a bunch of individual flowers. Those flowers lay in her hand graciously, each outstanding the other. But none had succeeded in blooming more than the little girl’s face.

I didn’t know why the hell did I need a flower.

‘Sure, little angel. Give me the pink one.’

‘That’s so nice of you’ beamed her sweet voice amidst the deafening motor horns.

My phone buzzed and it was real world again. I could hear mom’s voices muffled by her tears trying to convey something. I then sensed the receiver switch over and a male voice said ‘ Priya has met with an accident. Come to TTC hospital at the earliest’.

The line went off and off began spinning everything around me. Priya, my twin, my world, ever connected to me, so much so that, the umbilical cord that branched from the same root to us was still virtually present, no matter how physically distant we were.

The traffic cleared all of a sudden. How I wish that every problem in life got cleared the same way!

The girl dropped the pink flower on my lap and I drove away without paying her her much awaited income.

I was standing beside Priya in the ICU. Entangled amongst pumping tubes, monitoring wires and beeping machines lay the very part of my life. Even my tears were grief- stricken, unable to move down.

‘I love you Priya’ I said.

I sat beside her, closed my eyes and called the divine power to our aid. Only me and Priya in the room and it felt like mothers womb, with the same amniotic fluid surrounding us, perhaps, the fluid had begun some kind of replenishment.

I felt a touch.

It had to be Priya’s. And yes, it was her.

She tried opening her eyes but was putting in more efforts to speak through her oxygen mask. She gestured to remove the mask. I did. She took my hand and pressed hers against mine. I could sense the numbness in them.

‘I wish to donate my eyes Neeta’ she said slowly.

‘How are you gonna see then?’ I said trying to joke out her words.

‘You’ll have to do it for me…’

The monitoring display changed its pattern. And the pattern of my life also changed from the very next moment. She was gone, leaving behind a vivid trail of unforgettable memories.

I don’t remember about the hours that passed but I was driving back home alone when again I got jammed in a traffic block.

‘Aisha………’

I turned around and found a woman, in her fifties, call out to someone. I don’t know what made me curious to find out who Aisha was. I struggled to see and it was the angel, this time her other hand, the one without flowers, had a walking stick that guided her through her way.

She had smiled at me, looking into my eyes. She had neatly picked out the pink flower to give it to me. How could she be blind??

She hugged the old woman and they both headed towards the other side of the road.

‘I wish to donate my eyes Neeta……. You’ll have to do it for me……’

I’ll have to do it.

I parked the car sideways and followed the girl. I hardly knew her. But the Priya part in me knew her.

I interrogated about her to find out that she was an orphan, or rather abandoned to live as an orphan and was taken care of by a generous old street-vendor couple.

I looked into Aisha’s eyes and she smiled again.

‘ It’s not how how life acts but how we react to life’s actions that makes our being worth’. Priya had once told.

I decided, she’ll see the world through Priya’s eyes. I drove back to TTC hospital and made the necessary arrangements.

………….. She struggled to open her eyes, a struggle much easier than her life. She half opened them, looked at me and smiled. I smiled back , I saw Priya in her….

Yes.. Priya had, in true sense, become an angel in paradise.

ANOTHER MILE

The wind rustled against her cheek

As she took a furtive sneak peek.

Into her hut from mom’s watchful glance

Fuelled herself out from every ordinance.

Pretty enough in her tattered green frock,

Hopped and rocked, so did her thick locks.

Not knowing…… not wanting to know….

What life had to unfold, for, nothing did she owe.

Her round face impregnated

With innocence, she was elated.

Her tiny fingers felt the world outside

That mom had tried from her to hide.

All drenched, waded through her way,

As leaves danced and bushes past sway.

Suddenly felt a thrust that bore

Mom’s voices amidst the downpour.

On the doorway, giving a terrific look

Stood mom, ready to rebuke.

In its stead opened up her arms

And embraced her princess whom she couldn’t live sans.

Held the girl tight as if on a roller coaster ride,

The only reason for which she survived.

But the liitle one had a mischievous smile,

All set to explore yet another mile.

RARE REVOLUTION

To my pillow, cuddled,
In a state too baffled,
Spent I many nights sleepless
With the agony
Of being unable to live a life flawless.

Gentle fingers ran through my hair,
And I looked at him with great revere.
Known to me yet unknown
He resembled a ray of hope in despair.

He drew me close and tears rolled
As if I did a reservoir behold.
His words weren’t meant just to pacify
The endless woes it could nullify.
His caress was something unexplainable,
If only those moments could be made reversible……
……………………………………………………………..


A ray of sunshine traveled distances
To wake me up to surprises.
An unusual sense of happiness
Enlivened me and I turned around to assess…
Trying to hide the anxiety it brought
I walked towards a note that quote…

‘You're on a river bank,
You can either walk along the slippery path
Or sail through the gushing stream.
The choice is entirely yours…
You’ve just begun but I’ve planned the end…
Make every bane a boon
And you’ll never have to repent.’

All that was written dissolved
My fears, my tears and I revolved.
But I’m still unable to contain the excitement
Of having felt the presence of the Omnipresent!!!