Green is the color.

She was sobbing. I don't know why. She just told me about what he did to her,but I just cannot recall what. Another drop of tear fell on her white gown as I was thinking about the way she speaks. She turned towards me. Looked at my blank face, puzzled, as if asking, was I with her or not? What was I to say now. I looked at her. How her eyes shone behind the trails of tears, and the dark lashes. Speechless, I lifted her hand into my arms and hugged her with all my affection.

Reminder of that day woke me up from my contemplating state. 5 years back, what a beautiful evening that was, a slight drizzle from the huge dark canopy above and a few tears from her shaded eyes. but at last, we both knew that was the beginning of a new life ahead. I still remember all the times we shared together, some for the giggles, some for the tears. The part of my life i am going to cherish forever.

And yet times have turned today. May be its a fact that women cant stay where they find love. and now the day has came, when she had to move on. He called me up today, asked me how shall he propose her. And I thought, 'how can you propose her'? she's mine. she's always been mine. And again I realised, she always had her life, she had her share of feelings. Who am I to take such a huge decision of her life. He was telling me all about how he felt about her and all I thought was what I felt when I met her. He asked me again. I was lost somewhere in my memories. The good old times before we parted. He asked again, this time with a vigour.

alas, i exhaled, and said "She likes green...".

23 Nov 2010, 20:34
Pink Floyd : Green is the color.
Music from the film more.

Dream : Comfortably Numb

It was a bright evening sunset. Sun itself was in depths of despair. Fading yellow sunlight presented a clear silhouette of a child. A child of about 10 was sitting next to a tree on the edge of the cliff, facing the small town. A butterfly flew out of nowhere to sit on his tiny shoulder. He looked it out of the corner of his eye. A bright trickle came up his lips. His lips moved as if to say something, but I could not hear anything. He turned to look it, but the insect soared and glided towards the sun. He lifted his hand, stretched his tiny fingers to reach it, but it drifted further away.

I felt like a chill, a responsibility, a compulsion to move ahead and hold that kid from falling. But may be the fate of that kid and mine was linked in some way. I ran towards the child in a rush, but I couldn't resist avoiding the details of each and everything around. The awkward green tint on the leaves, typical dark brown shade on rocks and the lush yellow sky. I leapt to reach him but instead he turned, gave me a fading smile and leapt off to make his catch.

All I could see was he falling down the cliff, holding to the butterfly between both his palms. A bright, relieving smile danced across his lips as he faded out of my vision.
Ecstasy, would be precisely the word for what I felt next.

I have become Comfortably Numb.

Time : 19 Oct 2010, 12:05 AM
Song : Comfortably Numb, Pink Floyd.

Thought for a thought.

Since the time when i felt i can think, I realized a major fact that every thing is worth giving a thought. From a speck of graphite to a load of iron, everything was to be thought upon to convert it to a meaningful matter, be it a literary masterpiece or a jumbo jet. But the realization wasn't like how everyone learns to walk or how everyone learns to write. It was something no one has ever spoken about to me and no book talks about it. An Unheard feeling, an inexpressible emotion covered me when it occurred to me for first time. I was deep into my thoughts, of which i don't have the slightest clue about. It was like a sequence of thoughts rolling out, one giving path to other and then another and then the next. And suddenly out of the mist of these thoughts a clear profile emerged. a Question, indeed very simple question, 'What am i thinking?'. Like a rescuer, that one question wiped off all other thoughts and brought me to a momentary blackout. I realized that there indeed was a chain of thoughts, there was a random chaos, there was no influence of me on my thoughts, all was so unnatural just prior to this moment. This very movement made me realize that we have a much deeper intellect then we would ever utilize.

My acquaintance with this question was a frightening revelation. It accompanied with itself a distant feeling of myself. I felt like i have a counterpart within myself, Someone who has been watching my thoughts, spotting my emotions and governed my actions. That simple yet so deep question unleashed the vast expanse within myself.I was left perplexed. With time the question began to appear frequently. Initially it brought a awkward feeling with itself but soon it became habitual. The momentary lapse of reason it accompanied, helped me reason my unconscious thoughts.

Then I stumbled across a book, 'Ka: stories of the mind and gods of India', an exquisite work by Roberto Calasso. Calasso, and the imaginative heart of his own book is in the austere hymns and narratives of the Aryans, the Rig-Veda and the Brahmanas. The stories of the mind and the world, of sovereignty are superbly narrated here. As the book goes, "There are no Aryan monuments or artifacts, only 'words and gods. They left nothing else.' The Aryans, 'more interested in grammar than in glory,' were 'masters of the goaded, greased, hard-brushed, well-honed word.' Their world revolved around contemplation of 'the simple fact of being conscious'". As i lay contemplating these lines i understood what the book said about aham and atman, the difference between me and I. That was the difference i was seeking, and here it was, revealing itself from the very history of my civilization. And till today, I am mystified when i think about what i think and indeed its a thought worth a thought.

A bullet for my valentine.

It was cold. Probably it was the first snowfall since I arrived to the city. A gloomy mist and snowflakes had covered the alley between the huge skyscrapers. Even the moon looked more pale and subtle behind the mist. And there she was, the glistening persona, who made me cross half the globe. But Alas!, gods do play dices with peoples destiny. And thus, inevitably, I was in front of her; high above the streets with buildings soaring as glass walls all around. looking at the moon, which was now looking as if it is about to bleed, I felt her tender arms move off my shoulder.

Before I could take my mind away from admiring her presence and the scenery, I felt a cold chill close to my forehead. It was the silencer of her pistol. She was looking like a divine beauty, firm and emotionless, prepared to obliterate my existence. Her eyes were fixed on mine; her lips quivered a bit. The cold breeze was waving her curled hairs, as I stand there perspiring and trying to believe in what has just happened.

I recalled the first time we met. She was now much more magnificent as she was back then. I had no reason to resist her desire, or maybe I was to accept, whatever she had for me. She grasped the pistol firmly and started to pull down slowly. I felt the cold tip of silencer cross my nose and slither across my lips. There was nothing as relief to me, neither did she looked a bit less resolute. Her pistol halted on my chest. I felt her gun had bumped something, the rose she so affectionately placed in my coat about an hour back. She must have felt my heart pounding, as she drifted the gun. She must have felt it earlier too, a while back, as she was sitting beside me; her head tilted on my shoulder, her hairs curled over my chest and as her warm fingers fiddled inside my coat. I looked at her fingers as they tightened on the trigger, still graceful and firm as ever.

I heard a damp thud followed by a slight crank. Probably a rib ruptured as gunshot penetrated across my chest. I felt nothing till I tried to touch the wound with my hand. Then there was pain, until I looked up to see her face. I had no words yet to admire her. She stood there watching me as I smiled at her and fell on her feet. I lifted my hand towards her, to find it soaked in blood; Bright red, just as the gown she was wearing and same as the moon which glanced across her. A chill went across my spine. I could barely see her face by now. She tilted down and pulled out the rose from my pocket, kissed it, and threw it back on me. Alas, It was too cold. Cold indeed.

A Tie, A Knot and a Guy.

It all began on distant and gloomy days of monsoon. Schools have reopened and with turning up in 9th standard, I was bestowed with a gift which was to define my future. A Tie, that was made compulsory as my school considered that it was to groom us as early professionals, and in a span of time it did so. I still have the rusty memories of the time when I fortunately learned how to make a knot.

It was during these monsoon days, when in the course of running to catch my bus, I made my friend to tie a knot for me. That was one of those moments when i realized that magic is just the work of fingers. Spellbound by the art I witnessed, added to a part frustration of keeping my tie safe as an artifact [So the knot stays intact.], I decided to grasp this skill. Now, it was my turn to act. I asked my friend to tie the knot for me, but this time on my neck rather than his. This pulled him into a confusion but he started tying up the knot which was on my neck and was exactly opposite what he was doing till date. In all his confusion, frustration and anxiety I attained the superior knowledge of tying a knot. And as they say, Practice makes man perfect [Don't know why only man.] and so i did. within a week or two i was up with my 'self-tied' knot. SUCCESS.

With a AISSCE certificate and notable skill of tying a knot i passed my school. After Loads of pressure from competitive exams I reached a college which fortunately had a dress code. For four years from that time, I was the only person of my batch who regularly wears a tie. This attracted amixed opinion from my batch mates. There were people who relished pulling my tie to even those who tried to tie me up with my tie. But some things are designed to always 'hang-on-your-neck' and indeedsome of them are good.

Finally the process reached its moral destination : professional world. My first few Mondays andTuesdays were with an obligation to tie knots for many floor-mates. By the end of the day, when they kept their ties as a relic to be excavated next week, I quiet enjoyed un-tying mine. Presence of tiewas a permanent and most frequent question posed in front of me. And what answer anyone can have,apart from 'i like it', for such silly fervency. Many people i met even admired it and even some wereannoyed. But through all it had been, it has turned out to be a habit now. many a times, when sitting for a meal i find myself avoiding my tie getting into my plate, even when i am not wearing one. Aptlyput, Habits die hard and so will be my frenzy to wear tie.

To end the note,
'And then it hanged happily ever after.'

Photograph courtesy : Sreeraj A