How I want to die..

How I want to die,

Is with a smile on my face.

Not for I have lived a glorious life,

Not for I have a fulfilling one.

Not for the people I have met and forgotten,

Not for yet others whose company I have not begotten.

Not even for all the smiles I have bestowed upon the world,

Not for those I have had grace me in return.

Not for all the fantastical adventures I have been taken on

By many a pen or my own mind's song.

Naught matter the petty victories in cheap duels,

Nor do the pretty faces and scented lapels.

But for I am happy in that moment, I am,

As I lay in tender arms,

With long fingers that comb through what's left of mine hair.


For I see the happiness in those faded eyes,

As they look back to see me smiling,

Or perhaps simply because, in my mind, I'm listening to Frederic Chopin.

The Slap

  Image Source 

     'Who do you think you are?', Priya's angst-filled voice rang out loud and clear, 'How dare you hit me?'  It had all the tones of a soul suppressed. It was as if the dam of all seventeen years of mild obeisance and blind compliance had given way and all of a sudden, there was the emergence of a deluge of rage and discontent which lay hidden behind it..

     Priya had always thought that her only fault had been to be born in a society where the culture fraught with customs and stereotypes simply intended to keep the sexes away from each other and she unfortunately found herself on the side of the divide which was supposed to be satisfied on the insides of the four wall confines. It wasn't very easy for her, caught in between the pseudo-liberal carefree ideas that beckoned form the brash and unapologetic cities and the conservative steeped-in-tradition lives of the patriarchal villages. After all, what is a girl born in a developing city in India supposed to do? She knew that buying those denim shorts she wanted to wear would only draw the ire of her mother who in turn was afraid of the ire it would draw from her husband and the other men of the family, and she knew that wearing the customary three layers of heavy cloth would make her feel, in her mind, as though she hailed from a nigh-feudal period. Yet, for seventeen years, she delicately trod the tightrope, sacrificing much of what she sought with a smile on her face, simply content with losing herself in the works of Marquez, Adams and the like. And yet, when she heard of that dreamy Sufi-band coming to play in town, for once, if just once, she yearned to break free. She knew it would be plagued with boys, she knew it would not go unnoticed at home. She even knew that she would probably be told off severely by several elders in the family, but she cared not. She wanted to live life, and while all her 'friends' from facebook were going crazy with pictures and whatnot from concerts of all the star bands that had played in their cities, she did not see why she should be left behind. And thus, with stargazed eyes, she and a couple of friends, just as dreamy-eyed as her, made plans to get in and get out as silently as they could. It seemed all good until D-day when, as the band played, Priya was shaken out of her reverie to hear Kriti screaming at a bunch of boys standing behind her. And as she watched, much to her disbelief, she saw one of the guys reach out and place a hand on Kriti's waist, trying to drag her towards himself. It all seemed too surreal for Priya, the snake-like hissing of the boys, the wolfish stare in their eyes, the music being all but blotted out of her mind. And yet, she caught herself in time, as, realizing that there were policemen around, she began to scream for help at the top of her lungs. Kriti, who seemed too intent on yanking herself away from the pawing hands, finally gathered enough air to scream for help herself and was joined by Aditi, the final member of the trio. While the policemen came to their rescue, ensured their safety and returned them home with snide comments about staying where they belonged, only one thought flashed across Priya's mind. She had messed up. This was her one chance and she had messed up.

     As she braced herself and listened to all the rebukes being hurled at her, head held down, she felt an anger rise inside her. An anger attached to one single image.. a wolf clutching her friend while a whole pack looked on, hungrily. And as the image grew sharper in her mind, the helplessness she had felt for a moment came clawing back at her, stronger than every other emotion she felt. And when her father came around to telling her how it was foolish of her to have made herself a target, she wondered what she had ever done to appear as a feast for those ravenous wolves. As she struggled to fight the tears back, she found another angry voice grow inside her. This voice seemed to emanate from much deeper and reverberated through her soul. As it grew, she felt every particle of her being rise in revolt against what comments were being directed at her. And finally the moment came, when she could take it no more and she whispered, 'Dad, you were supposed to protect me and instead, you seem to think it right to throw me to the dogs, because i deserve to be raped..'  *slap* It seemed to touch a nerve as Priya stumbled for a moment, before all the anger and revulsion came back to her stronger than ever, and her angst-filled voice rang out loud and clear,  'Who do you think you are? How dare you hit me?'

Mommy hates my boyfriend.

~~ Extract from the first few pages of a late 80's diary~~

6th December
Wednesday
6:48 PM

Hi. My name is Sasha. I am 16 years old. I am very pretty and have the pinkest frock in my entire school. I also have the biggest collection of dollhouses in the whole wide world. Secretly, i have a poster of Patrick Swayze hidden away between the second and third layers of my bed. I kiss it every night before i go to bed. He is the most handsome man in the whole wide world.

I have a boyfriend. His name is John. He is 19 years old. He is so tall and has such muscular arms, just like Patrick. He wears a leather jacket just like Patrick did in Dirty Dancing. He brings me flowers all the time. He has a nice bike on which he makes me sit and hold him tightly while he shows me around town. He is the sweetest guy in the whole wide world.

I have a mommy. I call her mommy. She is old and does not understand me. She hates me. She hates everything i do. She wants me to be boring like her. She hates it when i am out with Johnny. She calls him a good-for-nothing ruffian. She says that he is buying me all those gifts to get me to let him touch me in all the wrong places. But i like her. She makes the best blueberry pie in the whole wide world. She also combs my hair and powders my cheeks when i'm not going out with Johnny.

8th December
Friday
7:32 AM

 Today, Johnny is taking me to the lake. We'll go boating and have our own little picnic in the woods across the lake. I think i hear his bike coming down the road. Yes, here he comes now..

11:17 PM

Oh my..  What a bizzarrely frightful day i've had. The Bobbies just left. I've been answering their questions for the past 4 hours. It feels so perfectly awful. Let me tell you about it.

It all began so beautifully. Johnny brought me a bunch of red roses which he knew were my favourite. Then, he said that i looked more beautiful than he had ever seen me. He was so sweet. We sat on his bike and rode all the way to the lake. He even told me when we paused in between that my hair looked beautiful when it was flying in the wind. He looked so manly when he said that. Turning around to look at me, in his leather jacket, with a line of sweat running down the side of his face to his stubble. I almost kissed him there. When we got to the lake, we saw that it was deserted. I guess not too many people have the time to take off and enjoy themselves on a perfectly pleasant friday morning. Johnny went over to the boat rental place nearby. While he was speaking to him, i saw him gesture toward me and the boat rental guy stared at me for a bit. Now that i think of it, it was almost a wolfish stare..

Once we were on the lake, safe with the basket i was carrying for the picnic, i felt like i had never felt before. I was happier than when mommy had told me, after a phone call, that i had won my town's beauty contest when i was in school. Well, me and 6 others, but i had won anyway. The boat wasn't a big one. It had low sides and seemed pretty old. It was very sturdy though and it seemed as though nothing could make it turn over. Suddenly, Johnny came close to me and pulled me to him. I didn't resist. He started to kiss me all over my face. I was surprised, but again, i didn't resist. I couldn't. I could smell him and feel his breath on me. I don't know what it did but i couldn't stop him. Suddenly, i felt his hand crawl under my top. It really felt like a spider was crawling up my skin. Mommy was right after all. It felt so weird. I couldn't believe what was happening but i gathered enough courage to ask him to stop. I doubt he even heard me. I tried to push him away but his grip was too strong. He only pulled me closer to him. I began to panic. We were very close to the woods. If i screamed, i doubted any one would hear me at all. But i screamed at the top of my lungs. I was angry. I was confused. I was hurt. Yet he continued to force himself on me. And then the most incredulous thing happened. I have been trying to tell the Bobbies but they just won't believe me. But i know you will..

Right there, in the middle of nowhere, emerged a weird looking head, like that of a dinosaur i've seen on the flintstones. It continued to come out of the water, it's neck must have been at least twice as long as me. I felt John take his hands off me, but i was too scared to look at him. The dinosaur came down so quickly and picked up John and disappeared under water that i couldn't believe my eyes. I didn't know what to do. I was so scared that it would eat me too. I rowed to the shore as fast as i could and used the little money i always carry to catch a ride home. Then i told mommy and she called the station and the Bobbies came. And no matter how many times they ask me, this is what i'll tell them. This is the truth!

If i had two extra hours a day..

                                                               Image Source                                             

I would dream!

What's that, you ask? Be a lazy person and do nothing useful? What a woeful miserable existence!

Nay, nay. Let me explain. Dreams. Dreams are all that make life worth living. What worth is a man if he does but not dream?

What rubbish, you say. A nincompoop you call me.

But little do you realise the meaning i mean or see the world i see. One day i sit in class and i wonder to myself, how was life during the crusades? The next day, in the Orient in the age of the dragons i want to be! And with a hyper-imaginative mind like mine, even sky isn't the limit, you see. And that's all it takes, a moment of quirk, to rid me of life's monotony. I'm not like most people, i just am not. I don't see much joy in gossiping or giggling or 'just hanging out'. But less happier than any, consider me foolishly not. Yes, the world is stuck in a rot, it is. With most people strolling in and out of life, never seeing what a fantasy it might be. But i care naught for them as i soar over their heads, overseeing my kingdom, upon my dragon, with glee.

What nonsense are you saying man, you say.

Ah well, let me explain, slowly and painfully, again. But remember you, before you read on, to be true to yourself and think about what i spew.
Every morning, you wake up. Some with a smile on your face, most with a loathsome hate for the daily chores you do not want to do. And just as you're done with them, you unfurl your newspaper to view news that does not please you. Annoyed, you switch to your television and view things which make every moral fibre in you scream in utter disgust, ack, pthooey. You move on to your office, where you sit in a cubicle, working for a man you'd never in your life wish to be. And you smile and you wave and greet people you wish would wipe that fake smile off their faces so you could do so too and just.. just let you be.. It only gets worse past office as you drag your feet home and see your family. He has this problem, she has that and yet her friend's friend's friend has yet another. Curse them in your mind, silently you do, that they are your problem, if only they would just let you be!

That's how you've lived all your life and how you will continue to be. Going to school and by-hearting history you never wanted to learn, wishing you'd been in one of those battles yourself, born and dying free. Listening to your economics teacher talking about Mao and wishing you'd been in those admirable boots indeed. Writing exams you never wanted to write, choosing colleges you never wanted to choose, sharing food you never wanted to share, performing dares you think wouldn't make sense to a mare. And that is how most people come and go, never truly doing anything for yourself. never truly living the dream. Some of us, when told the above, would probably nod solemnly, yet point out with sadness of the greatest degree, that there isn't enough time in a day, there just isn't enough to go around being free.

But.. if you had 2 extra hours a day, doesn't it seem like what your heart would seek? Seek what, you ask. Ha ha, anything you want, feel free! Because, that's the good things about dreams, there are No limits, you see! You can be groovy like Elvis or eccentric like Seuss, or if you so wish, be a wrinkly old moose! You could gather up all your worries and slay them to quarters, dancing and jiggying around them, singin' smoke on the water. You could finally kiss that pretty girl you always wanted to, get her to be the naughty naugggghty girl you know she wants to be. You can walk on water, you can fly. You can even talk to your dead goldfish and tell her it ain't goodbye. You could run over all the people whose habits you hate, without so much as having to pay a parking fine in rebate. You could find the cure for AIDS, you could eradicate racism, even discover the secret to Houdini's tricks or win the Nobel prize, just for kicks. You could be where you wanted to, do what you wanted to and, at the end of it all, go to bed happy. Because you know now, you do, that you'll wake up next morning safe in the knowledge that, at the end of everybody's twenty four hours, you have an extra two or four or a hundred, to be who you wanted to be :)

A lion's tail..

Aaah.. Children's Day Special!! :)

Once upon a time, in a land far far away, there arrived a monkey. He had the longest tail in that kingdom now, did he. The king of the forest was a big ol' lion. He had a long long tail. Why, even the longest in the kingdom claimed he. Quite obviously, it didn't sit well with the king that his majestic tail was no longer the longest in town. He paced and he paced and he twisted & turned, even tossed the queen out of the bed a couple of turns. "Argh!" growled the queen, "Enough is enough. If you worried this much about your mane, i would probably go insane." "But, my dear queen.." said the lion, " You simply don't understand. I must, I must have the longest tail in the land!" "Must you toss me out of bed for that?" the queen replied, "And ruin my painted nails? Go speak to your ministers, if you must, about longer tails." Defeated in his own bed, the lion sighed to himself. "Of course my darling, of course" he said.


The ministers had the biggest conundrums of their lives to solve the next day, they did. For their king was in gloom. And if they didn't rid him of it, they knew, they were destined for doom. Said the bear, in his gruff old voice, "We could make the monkey leave this kingdom, if that be your choice." "No" said the lion, "I'm not that cruel. Just because he has a longer tail, i will not deprive him of his gruel." "May i suggest a clip-on to remove your frown?" quipped the vixen, "Your majesty, they're the latest things in town." "Hmm" said the lion, "Sounds kind of nice. Rush and get me a clip-on before i'm laughed at by mice!"


Now, the jungle being the jungle, didn't quite have its technology up to boot. The king ended up with a clip-on which had a saw-tooth. The lion howled & yelped and clutched at his mane. But, he told himself, it was much better than the shame. Bravely the king soldiered on for a week, till he couldn't speak any more without uttering a little squeak. His tail felt like it was on fire. Yet, he told himself, it was the only solution to this mire. Said the lion to his wife, "I cannot take this anymore. My tail feels so sore. It feels like i have a nail, hammered into every inch of my tail."


News came the next day, that the monkey had moved on. Having had his fill of the fruit, he could not stay long. Onward he moved, thinking this jungle was a bore. Little did he realise, he had left a king very very sore..


photo credit: http://clipartbestpicturegallery.blogspot.com/2010_03_01_archive.html