Restless

I felt it again today, the constricted feel in my chest.. no amount of water or medicine would make it go away.. it stayed.. and pained.. The restlessness. I felt it when I saw the little girl get into the car with a man in the middle of the night.  She was not so little, might be in her early twenties. She looked like a girl of thirteen, lost in a big fair.. her features still has not lost its innocence, although her eyes and heart had.

Traveling at night was not my option, the darkness scares me, like there was still something lurking behind those dark drapes ready to ambush my heart. But my I.T job demands it and I don’t hesitate now. Nights to be used to be the safest time for me, locked in my house, comforted by my blanket, assured that even the slightest noise would bring my mom to my side.. I slept as a child dreaming and wondering about my own fairy tales. But now, the moment my office cab reaches my street, I search and spot the only house fully lit up and the short plump anxious figure of my mom waiting in the balcony and I feel safe again… but the little girl..!

Am I pitying her? I used to wonder.. I am not sure.. may be I do and may be I don’t.. ! As my philosophical friend calls it being chaste at heart is much tougher than at body, and in his eyes every women are the same.. not so pure..! I half agree with him, the rest half I ignore..

So I sat to contemplate, when did I feel restless before? Well I don’t remember, but I remember the first time I felt so..  I was in my teen and enjoying the first bus ride alone in my life.. I had pleaded my overprotective father for it. I got into the bus from my school, got a seat and was enjoying the view both inside and outside the bus. Faces and places equally fascinate me.  In one of the faces, I saw pain. She was a girl of my age, and probably going back home from school too! Her eyes wandered pleadingly at every women in the bus, but no one saw it. The bus was overcrowded, and just behind her stood a guy too close to her.

At first I did not notice his hands, but the constant movement of those filthy hands made me look harder and I saw his hands move from the girls hip until her arm pit. She pushed them away, pinched it turned to the side, but nothing stopped him, he continued harassing her. I looked away in disgust.. the bile welled up my food pipe, I felt restless for the first time in life. I got down from the bus as soon as possible and got home in a cab. I did not know if any one helped her. But I knew that it left a deep impact in her and in me, and I still cannot forget that day.. even after 10 years..

Was it guilt then? The realization that I didn’t/couldn’t help? Or the personal fear for my own? I am not sure.. or the overwhelming knowledge of bad and evil in the world.. of what lies behind those dark drapes…

 I wish to change and remove the knowledge of good and evil..  but if it leaves me… will I be innocent again..?

As this circle is like life and death.. death always comes after life.. leaves life to heel or bleed.. and then take one away. Knowledge always comes after ignorance as comprehension leaving the scars..!

If only..

{Fiction}

Often she would wonder why they drifted apart.. they were perfect for each other still they are at two different corners of life.. alone.. Rarely when the pain seems unbearable, she would sit in her bed or lay tossing or turning around trying to rewind her memory, she visualized the past, and felt a peculiar completeness when she lived those days again in her mind.. The first memory that she tries hard to get was his face with its boyish innocence and struggle, wondering what brought them together. They were two silent people in their adolescence, but they were friends then and nothing more. They talked and talked he about his life and she about her music. It was life to her and he loved the passion with which she spoke about it to him and so they were inseparable friends or so they thought. 

But soon they wandered off, to seek their own end of life, and at that time, the pain of missing each other just looked like the pure agony of friendship. They did not realise it then, and tossing in her bed, now she naively imagined what would have happened if only they realized it then.. and that made her heart ache more.

It took them several years to meet again, the purity of innocence wearied off them and they were adults. But she remained the same inside, the same innocent little girl, but experiencing the bliss of life, made him different and so unlike the innocent youth she adored.

She remembered the day she met him again, in the end of a concert, in which she was lucky enough to play her violin, she was one among the ten musicians who played in sync that night, but to her it was her stage, and her night. She was in the complete ecstatic moment when she met him, her delight got transmitted into him, and his eyes shone mysteriously with a powerful gleam. They met often, so very often that they felt like they lived together. He would always start his conversation with music, and she would be thrilled that she would go on and on about it, he would sit still watching her, with a amused admiration, wondering if she would feel the same way about him too.

He never tried to conquer her physically and she never thought of it, but he spoke to her about the number of women or girls he has been with and she listened in silence. She would believe anything he told her, and he had a good eye for imagination.

At times he would moodily blabber,

“you know you amuse me..you are not like other girls”

“Why?” her curiosity aroused

“I feel like you are there.. deep.. Inside your body, and I am gradually drawing you out..”

She would muse about it and  know that he is true, and wondered how he alone could do it.

She never imagined things unless he gave her an account of it, be it life, love or sex. To her he was an booklet and she drank from him, with no hesitation or blush she would stare at him wide eyed taking in everything he said and consecutively wondering how, that which he said would please someone, to her it looked gross and painful. He felt like a hero then, the amused look in her eyes would arouse him and he would continue talking to her consecutively imagining her with him.

She would ask sometimes..

“Drawing me out? Like?”

“I feel like I am delicately removing dried leaves one after the other cautiously because I know that there is something that belong to me underneath and I should be careful. Then finally there you lay bare waiting for me.. and then I would.. lift you gently cover you with my warmth and..”

She would shift uneasily and say “see a rainbow.. I wonder when it rained..!”

He would stare at her for few minutes and look away reproachfully, but soon her uneasiness would wear off and she would yearn for him to continue, but the moment would have been long gone then.

When he looked at her, she would see a war in his eyes, craving for an approving gesture in her, wondering what she would do if he made his move then. But how much ever harder she tried she could only stare back plainly at him.. He would stay silent with pain or call her by names “bitch! Liar!” and walk off.

Other times, he would ask her, what she would do if he lay down in her lap, she would say that “I will pat your face, make you sleep, play with your hands,  caress your hair.. and stroke them gently”. She could sense the impatience in him and soon those hateful words would come out. Never in those situations did he know that she only thought of those, and she couldn’t think of anything more.. or she did not know anything more.

Then painfully she would remember the last few days of their life together and the conversations. It pained her to think of those days, but nevertheless she would sit beneath her bed cross legged thinking..

“Why do you behave all, virtuous with me?” he shouted. She did not reply, but looked helplessly down at the ground.

“Tell me, don’t you want me? I know you do, as much as I want you.. but still you act.. don’t you want to hold my hands.. don’t you want my lips on yours don’t you?

She sat wondering, she did not know if she wanted him that way, she had never imagined it so.. Her silence made him furious, “you are fake..! bitch.. you act around like you are different.. but you are just fake.. and that is why no one likes you! You don’t let any one near you because you are scared that they will see-through you..”

And so he walked away from her life.. and she would sleep after those restless nights of wondering.. like she got to know the answer after all.

But then they met again, this time her life had gone through a series of fluctuations, she had been married and widowed. But her eyes remained the same, and the way she looked at him remained the same. He sat in the coffee shop hands on his head looking at her..

“Were you ever happy with .. him?”

She looked down at the coffee which was cooling down but answered..

“No.. it was a pain.. everything.. everything was a pain..”

“Do you think it would be the same with me?

“I don’t know.. I am sacred to reach the end of road with you and what if, I feel the same way with you?.. what if you feel so with me? I am scared.. ”

He knew her and understood her, he wanted her. He wanted to make her happy but did not know how.. And that injured him, they remained silent.. wondering why it never worked out between them..

{Fiction}

Mirage

{Fiction}

Whatever I saw seemed to be experienced by me alone, or as they said imagined by me. They, my strict relatives consisting of many uncles and aunties headed by my grandfather considered me half witted or crazy or even possessed. They even brought in priests to exorcise me. If it was not for my father I would not have survived my childhood at all, but he also couldn’t help much..  he was brought up to respect and accept them and not question back.. But he believed me or so I thought,  when I told about seeing mother every day, he would smile and say he saw her too.. although she died long ago..  that made me happy but then he would add that when we love someone so much we tend to think they are with us, when I stressed that I spoke to her every night, he gave me a heavy and sad smile. I was not sure if he believed me, but at least he did not look at me like a strange creature like others.. and that was enough for me.

But when he went to Mumbai to carry on with business, I knew that he was escaping from them, he wanted to take me too. But grand father wouldn’t accept.. the old man seemed to see though his sons plan. So it was decided to let me stay in my ancestral house until my school days are over or until grandpa passes away whichever occurred earliest, and then move to Mumbai with dad. I prayed every night to become 18 soon, but at times I prayed for my grand father to trip and fall, on such nights I would sleep guilty.  Kids of my generation were scared of me and avoided me as and when possible. Soon I got acquainted with this loneliness and started making so much out of it.. 

I wandered aimlessly in my grandfathers plantations. But always met at least one of the workers there and was shooed home.  But soon I found my niche in the isolated family temple located on the far corner of the plantation. The temple had a strong legend and people still feared to go near it on mid days and night. The only time the family gathered around the temple was once in a year and then the temple was opened and cleaned and prayed. Other times it remained closed and uncared rendering it a kind of mystic feel. That was where I crashed almost all of the weekends and holidays. 

The temple was surrounded my many jasmine vines and tall neam, banyan and coconut trees, and thorny bushes of some unnamed cactus and pineapple. The fruits, coconuts and flowers that blossomed and ripened there was considered to be the deities and never touched. Because of the fear of Grandfather no thief dared to cross the path either. There was a rock facing the temple where I would sit wondering something or the other. The stream of little pond that glided nearby gave the place a Eden like feel, and when the wind blew the place was enriched with the smell of jasmines. Even sunlight seem to be in love with the place giving it an enchanted glow.

But nature was not the thing that pulled me there, it was the legend of the place. The deity there was not the usual God, it was an angel (gandarvan) punished by God, doing his penance there, but instead of involving himself in godly duties, he found himself fall in love with a damsel in the nearby house. (A great great great ancestor of my family). Back in those times, love was true enough to shake the faith of even angels. So they decided to live happily in the world, but a cunning man in the family itself recognized the real identity of the angel and entrapped him in a statue and threatened to kill his lover. So being in love the angel obeyed and stayed in the statue and every full mooned night the lovers meet in the mystic forest.

My rational mind failed to believe it fully but the other part of me was enthralled by the love. I empathized with them and at times when I sat staring at the temple, imagined myself as the lover girl and waited for him to come to me. At those times, I did not bother the wind or even my own hand trespassing improperly. At times I felt uneasy like being watched by someone, and would run home as soon as possible. On a full moon evening is when I first met him, the receding sunlight and the looming full moon both played around the place making the stream sparkle like gold, then a figure “him” walked towards me from the temple guided by the light, he sat near me and smiled, he was a boy in his early twenties, with long hair, sandal wood paste in his forehead, sacred thread around his fair bare chest, he wore only a white dhoti and smelled of sandal. I was in a kind of trance and got up we stood facing each other, he smiling and me dazed. His hands clasped my face and he spoke of waiting for a long time for me and when he was about to kiss, I panicked and ran away.

  Nothing he said or did made my doubt go away, for there was something intense in him, when he came near me, when he touched me and there was a look of fierce passion in him that never was there in the eyes of people I met. His passion at times got diffused into the forest too.  That day, when his kissing became intense and our breathing shorter I became strangely conscious of the nature and its intensity. The trees shook like they were being rocked to and fro by strong giant hands, the wind gushed brutally in my ears, even the stream flew violently. When the spirited passion got carried back to him, I saw in his eyes the passion and calmness, he looked at me like I belonged to him, I surrendered for the first time in my life to my love, till then I was unaware of the ecstasy of complete surrender to love and never will I ever be.

Next day when I went back to see him, although being aware of the previous night’s storm my heart sank seeing the state of my charmed forest tore down, and below the trunk of the neam tree I found his open hand, moving the truck away I spotted his face, it was the same, unhurt but lifeless. The coldness in the eyes attacked me like a poisoned dagger. I blamed the nature, I cursed god for taking him away from me. I walked back home silently, and next day as I imagined there was no sign of him there and I resented going there anymore. I blamed my eccentric mind for mourning something that never existed. I accepted what others said, it was all in my mind I found them unusually kind towards me, as they helped into the train to Mumbai.  After all its easy to blame oneself and the nature than the cold blooded brutal human for separating him from me.

Blissfully Royal..

My relation with faith and God have always been like the one with a lover.. when I acknowledge and believe in it, I take it in fully into my heart.. everything happening around and within me seem to be the work of that wonderful hand.. Although deep some where I know mind hears and sees what it wants to..! Life seems blissfully blessed then.. But sooner even when I do not want, crawls in the doubt like a cold slithering snake showing how stupidly or conveniently I was and being deceived, turning my disappointment into anger and faith into hatred.. but there is always a stage of doubtfulness, like a cat I sit on the wall of life unsure what side to fall of, on such times my visit to temple remains a mere visit of picnic.

I visited Chidambaram Sri Natraj temple lately when my faith remained in the uncertain wall, previously I would panic in such condition and pretend to be in faith, pretend to pray, but then now, some how I remained indifferent and walked on looking at the biggest man made wonder I had ever seen.. Some how on the first step inside the temple fascination striked me.. there was some thing rich and royal in the air, the sky and place.. I wantedly ignored the fact that Lord Shiva resides in the place as sky.. (There are 4 more temples in Tamil Nadu where he is represented as water, fire, earth and sky the five elements).

There was a change in me, I was at awe with the place.. although history fascinates me, this was the first time I wondered what it might have been to walk around this temple as a royal queen.. I walked around the temple covered in acres of land, protected by big stone walls, the pavement was burning under my bare legs, for the sun was yet to retire for the day. People moved to the shades fearing the heat and I walked around the temple alone marvelling the work of those exceptional talents of those years.. when technology and engines were a alien words..

As I walked looking at the people moving towards shade, I felt like a royal princess and those my subjects moving away at me, I did not smile inwardly at my stupidness for I was royal.. I walked like being possessed I walked like the place belonged to me..  Blame my sun sign or the innate trait in me inhabited from my grand father.. but I experienced it on that day for the first time in my life.. I felt blissfully royal standing on the land of Lord..

I went on blasphemous for few more minutes until I entered the sanctum where I faced reality, the place was rich with Godliness and was a tribute to Bharathanatyam.. the Lord is there in his ananda tandavam (happy dancing pose) and said to have danced in there long time ago.. there was also a statue of rudra tandavam (the angry dance) pose where the Lord while dancing has lifted is one leg to fetch the fallen ear ring from the ground and to place it on the other side ear.. the statue was a wonder and I could imagine him dancing with furious anger and my body reacted to this Divine imagination of mine with goosebumps..

Inside the temple, I was one among many others, sweating and panting to see the idol at least once.. and I saw the statue of Lord Natraj in his dancing pose..  elbowing my way among the restless crowd and somehow the feeling of being great and royal left me.. I was too small here.. literally too.. for I had to jump once or twice to even get a glimpse and I know that the doubtfulness in my mind is being replaced by faith deliberately and slowly.. for nothing changes the age old habits in me..  being in faith means being at peace to me..  but how long.. I am not sure..!

In search of

{Fiction}

The whole office block started to swim in front of her..  every of the interesting people started to look boring. She dragged herself towards the washroom just to splash a handful of cold water to her face anticipating that the coldness in the water would pacify her restless mind. It was just a result of over work, still it troubled her to be like this. She walked as slowly as possible back to her place, with a tut.. tut.. tut.. an irritating noise from her heels. People turned from their work to look at her, and in their face she read the result of her tut tut! Had she waited a moment to look past their irritated face into the screen she would have seen Facebook and pictures or some loser trying to find their soul mate in office chat app, or some killing time with silly chats, but she was far less concerned.. and so she walked on with a tut tut.. until she reached her place, and sat down like a bundle of old clothes loosely wrapped, that they go sagging left and right when dropped.

She looked around, there was life around her, the agility of people working their brains out, in front of a computer playing with programming languages long ago created by some genius who named the language after themselves. Normally she would brush off the thought with a shrug and say we use the same alphabets everyday why not the code? but today with irritation brimming around her, she felt that they were all donkeys carrying old unwashed burdens (clothes) of others. 

She was bored, restless and as an icing irritated. She was searching peace.. she wanted the green meadows to lie down and breathe in the freshness of the damp soil, she wanted to sit alone and watch sunset in the beach letting the waves kiss her feet, she wanted to cuddle up in her sofa and sleep after a hot cup of coffee.. The lingering flavor of coffee and being alone enticed her mind. She knew what she wanted, she got up and walked towards the cafeteria. A hot cup of freshly brewed coffee, with just the aroma her mind started to dance in peace..

With this newly found vigor she walked towards the emergency exit door, tactfully avoiding and hiding from her friends, who now looked like a flock of angry birds to her. Once behind the door, she murmured a silent prayer to Otis and his brilliant invention of elevator, and descended the dusty seldom used stairs. She sat down on one of the stairs least bothering about dirtying her dress, and took a sip of her coffee which was still thankfully hot.

She hummed a tune in her half smiling lips after another sip of coffee, now! wait what was that song..? she hummed the same line again.. trying to catch the tail and reach the head.. but in vain, desperation started to sink into her. She hummed again.. if only she can find the beginning of the she could enjoy her coffee in peace..! If only.. damn!!

Are we there yet?

Everyday every moment

every single second

when I see the bright light

around the corner

I say to myself.. "Finally"

But when the road unwinds

for further mysteries

I chuckle and rub by hands

For life without mystery is no life at all

And I wait patiently for another turn

Just to anticipate..