A matchstick speaks

I am a little matchstick

Small yet defiant…

Calm with a fire deep within

All it takes is one stroke to set me alight.

Light a lamp, I can

To drive darkness away

Or bring everything down

Turn things into ashes.

You may carry me in your pocket

And forget my presence…

But with every spark…every flash…

I shall storm back into your mind.

Never belittle me as I shall

Leave a trail even as I burn…

Never hold me too close,

For it may leave you with a scar.

Value me you may not,

Because I am negligible,

But when you stumble in the dark…

Think of me, sure you will.

I am a little matchstick,

Small yet defiant…

I shall continue to burn

Ceaselessly…

au revoir darling

Life has come to a grinding halt. All cogs unanimously refuse to work. I stand and watch the clock tick by. Have suddenly lost so much that it seems difficult to believe. The biggest loss though, was losing you. Time and again, I feel like I am walking through a mist. In this dense fog, I seek you and your touch. A hand to assure me that you’re still by my side. Then I wake up. I am jolted back to reality. Regret is the first emotion that hits me. I wake up…look around and repent for everything that went wrong. I know I had plenty of chances but it when one hits rock bottom that one truly realizes that all that is needed is one last chance to prove oneself. But you refuse to let me have it. Don’t blame you my love…I don’t expect you to be as benevolent as God. But I am sorry.

Your memories lie undisturbed. Some in the closet and the others in my heart. They stay still, taking me back to those blissful days. I regret more that I threw it all away. I close my eyes and the mist clears because your face appears before me. The mist returns when I open my eyes. Why can’t I then close my eyes for good? At least it will take the mist away. I remember my friend’s burning pyre and envy him. He will no more have to bear the nasty jolts of life. Is death truly a better way out then? No. I won’t succumb. That’s my resolve because with life comes hope. There will be a faint glimmer that one day I will be able to hold your hand again. I will continue the way we had planned. Though no woman except you will ever be in the picture. I shall stand and hear the clock tick by. Like one piece of machinery next to another. Without you, my human side shall probably not last very long anyway princess. I read the note in my wallet and feel a sudden warmth envelope me. Though imaginary, your presence has warmth.

Your absence will pinch and burn throughout the time I am around and now that I look back, I realize I was very stupid to let you go. Worse, push you more. Today, we are poles apart. And you don’t want to take a single step this side but I shall continue trudging in the fog, in spite of falling and being bruised and hurt numerous times in the sole hope that finally I will come out of this fog to see you standing on the other side to say that you believed in me and I didn’t let you down. All it will take for the hurt to disappear is one hug from you to say that you’re still by my side. If that doesn’t happen, maybe I will lose myself in this mist like countless others. But I shall never stop seeking you because till am alive, the hope will linger. Till God decides to have mercy on me and be a little benevolent. As long as that doesn’t happen, life well. Be happy. I will always love you.

Au revoir little T

thinking of my little princess...

I am standing on the terrace. Getting drenched in the rain and the storm. Reminiscing the moments with you. I remember that night when we spread out quilts there and I slept holding you in my arms. That patch still has your warmth in it. When I am lonely or upset, I go and sit there. It feels like I have you back in my arms. I remember the day that I had dozed off while you were here and you left me a note saying that you were leaving with a wish that I slept well and I ran to this terrace frantically to find you looking away into infinity and held you from behind. You were a little startled…and then you smiled. On the way down, your foot slipped on the slippery stairs and I held you again so that you didn’t fall. One thing I could never stand…still can’t…is to see you get hurt. A scratch on you is like a gash on me.

That day comes back to my mind when we did a Titanic, standing on this very terrace. Life was so complete! Then those nights, when while I spoke to you, an airplane flew overhead and I couldn’t hear you for a brief moment due to the noise. I despised the airplane because I had missed something that you had said. Even this house has a memory of yours in every corner. And without you, it will always remain a mere house…it will never be home. It has the floor that you walked on, the wardrobe that you leaned on and the mirrors that you saw your reflection in. I can still see your face in those mirrors when I look at them. Those days when I came back home and you welcomed me with a hug saying, “you must be cold”. Believe me dear, I never felt warmer in my life. These days when I come back home and unlock the door, I feel your absence every moment. When I cooked for you in the kitchen and you came and sat on the counter and started those pointless conversations which still seem to have so much meaning. If I told you to go back and rest, your only retort was, “I am here to spend time with you, not eat!”

This bed still lies here, the same one that we slept on, holding each other. Now I spend nights on it…absolutely sleepless. The wash room that we bathed in, the balcony that you stood in when you were upset and tears streamed down your eyes. You hugged me and I could feel your tears drop on my shirt. I held you tight to tell you that no matter what happens, I will stand by you till my last breath. So little was spoken, yet so much was said. My wardrobe still has a part reserved for you just like my life because if I ever have you back in my life, I want you to come back and see that everything is just as you left it. I have forgotten what life was like when you were not a part of it. Just seems like a frightening blur in the distance. Your memories on the other hand, are as fresh as ever. It has been a long time that I have been in love with you darling. And this love will never fade away.

It’s true that I have hurt you. Maybe beyond what words can undo, but I hope life gives me one last chance to tell you that you mean the world to me. You hate me now…and maybe you always will but my love for you will stay and grow stronger by the day. For me, to love you, a lifetime wouldn’t suffice because you mean a lot more than that. The world around me is teeming with people. But I feel frozen in the frame of time with your memories. Each one lies etched vividly in my mind. Life without you seems very incomplete. All I can say is that my love for you is true and I am ready to do anything humanly possible to make you believe that I regret what I did. I failed to understand you and fear that it might be too late to win you back but I hope…I hope I have one last shot at life. There are memories with you that are bitter, but I hope and pray I gave you enough memories to cherish that outlast the ones that are bitter. In case life refuses to offer me a chance, I just wish you have the best of everything and even my share of joy. I will be content with your share of sorrow. At least there will be something of yours that I shall have. The single gift you gave me always stays close to me because I am afraid of losing it just like I lost you…I still carry the little notes you wrote to me. I feel you through them. In those notes, I find your essence…your fragrance.

I have only two things to say to you little angel. First, that I love you with everything I have ever had. Second, that I am sorry…please forgive me. I shall wait for you just round the corner in case you decide to change your mind. You’re way too precious for me.

I shall be forever yours. Just yours.

a scuffle in the heart...

You’re gone leaving a lingering hope

And my life moves on as it always did

But frozen I feel in the lanes of time

Without you by my side…

I breathe…I exist…I survive…

But the life is missing from within me…

I eat to keep my body going…

But the hunger has perished…

A lone candle of hope burns in my heart

Battling the strong winds that try blowing it out

Every cold response add an unseen wound

Every warm gesture looks like a silver lining

What will happen I do not know

I have a burning hope though

That back in my arms I shall have you one day

To show you that I mean it every time I say

“I love you my princess”…

Bosses or asses?

(With anger, malice, sarcasm and grudge against all bosses.)

Ok. Post this post, I will not be surprised if I suddenly find myself in the “Physically able but unemployed youth” segment of the society. But at this point in time, I am really not bothered. In a way, I am past these worldly concerns. Let me then begin to rant about the species called “BOSSES” with a joke on the entire clan. Read the story…

Once, the various parts of the body were arguing about who should be the boss. The brain spoke up first, “I do all the thinking. I am the hub of all intellect. Hence I lay my claim to be the boss.”

Next, it was the heart, “I pump all the bloody blood! Without me, everything will perish. I should be the boss.”

While a verbal battle ensued between the different parts, the arse hole spoke up. “I should be the boss. The absolute authority”, it said. There was stunned silence for a second that the arse hole could even think of something so bizarre! When realization sank in, every part of the body was in splits. The arse hole gave everyone a very dirty look and shut itself for 3 days. Needless to say, the entire system went for a toss. Under immense pressure, the body gave in and the arse was made the boss.

Now, what’s the moral of the story? You don’t need brains to be a boss. Any arse hole will do. And I was so bugged in life that I actually went to my boss and told him this story. I still grin to myself when I reminisce the look on his face.

This clan follows no biases of any kind. Men, women, non men, non women, anyone in these shoes behaves in the same manner. A nice boss is probably as much of a figment of imagination as the existence of Atlantis. Everyone has heard fables of “good bosses” but few have probably experienced it first hand. And in this case seeing, indeed, is believing. Though I don’t know what genetic mutation people undergo by the time they become bosses but I pray I can avoid such a catastrophe in my life. I meant the mutation part. Let me now, for your benefit, classify the kinds of sub species that exist in this category.

Absolutely autocratic: It is the kind that believes that since they have spent reasonable time in the industry they’re in, they know EVERYTHING about it and hence their opinion is unchallengeable. They conveniently forget that due to the process of evolution, every successive generation is a tad faster and more capable. Let alone accepting it, they ignore even the possibility of such a thing!

Mistaken democrats: These are people who believe they’re extremely democratic whereas their democratic nature is as real as a mirage in a desert. They have an illusion that they give people a chance to express their opinion and work in their own way. It’s more like allowing one to stand in a one square foot area and say that there is enough space to play hopscotch! That, my friend, is the true face of these mistaken democrats.

Selective hearing: They are like a radio. One can hear them but never speak to them because for some godforsaken reason, sound just doesn’t seem to travel to their ears. Well, it maybe the vaccum in their heads that prevents the sounds from reaching the brain. They say what they have to, listen to nothing and then when things go wrong, they even forget that they said what they said!!

Excuse me: This kind has an excuse up their sleeve at any given point of time. Be it to avoid work or to make sure that they make life miserable for people working with them. These people fish for the first reason they can find to get out of office. It can range from “the neighbour’s dog being sick” to “no water from the municipal authorities”. I have seen a lot of this kind.

This is the brief segregation I could come up with. And more or less, most bosses can be put into any of these though there may be finer differences prevalent across the world. If you find any other points, feel free to add to this piece. And before my bosses find this document open on my computer, I shall scoot.

Adios.

Being corny…

(This is only for people above 18 years of age. Though you shouldn’t be reading this otherwise but it’s up to you to take the final call.)

Rub it…rub it.

Pull it and straighten it out.

Yeah…that’s the way. Now come on, shove it in! Slowly. Don’t rush.

THIS is how one makes a wire pass through a circular disc to make a spinning wheel. What were you thinking?

Is it a flaw with the listener’s twisted mind or is it the fault of the speaker that what’s said and what’s interpreted are poles apart? Sometimes, it is a genuine lack of realization that gives rise to such situations. Like: “all of us crash at his place nowadays because things get easier when we’re sleeping with each other regularly.”

In this case, the context was that five people of a workgroup stayed over at the guy’s place whose house was the closest to office so that it was easier to come in on time everyday. But to someone who isn’t aware of what the reference is, such a statement can sound rather suggestive. I have found myself in such situations countless times. This is what someone I knew had to say about how to clean the grime that accumulates between the batteries and the steel plate, in a torch, resulting in an incomplete circuit: “pull it out. Blow it. Shake it a little and stick it back in.”

Sounds strange. I know.

Being a writer makes it worse. One is supposed to have more than one interpretation to every line written. Over a period of time, it just happens that dual meanings begin to appear from every side…in every statement. And to make matters absolutely terrible, this tendency to be corny is contagious. So one not only ends up being infected…but passing it on as well! Though, sometimes, being a little corny adds to the charm of what’s written and interpreted. I remember having read this print as by Neil French, a copywriter par excellence. It was for a cigar brand called Cigarillos. It read “Gentlemen like their companions brown, long, slim and ideally horizontal.”

I agree that is very open ended but that’s where the charm of the line was!

My boss was heard telling a trainee recently that it was important for him to perform every single time otherwise people would find someone else. I agree. As Little T often tells me, “you have a twisted mind!” I agree. But then, it isn’t exactly my fault, is it? I mean, seriously, I would love to think straight. I mean, get the right interpretation.

Though there is no judgement that I am passing about being corny, it is sad when a very well interpreted statement is wasted on someone who’s a little dim in the head…or maybe isn’t as “corrupted”. Those winks, the sly grins and all that laughter with lips pursed is something that results in a little relaxation when the atmosphere is a little tense.

Even brands are not spared. One day, recently, when I had gone to meet my lifeline...Little T, we went shopping. I saw this amazing pair of shades for her. But then, she wanted to look around a little more so while trying on the different pairs, she noticed that one particular brand was called "Push and Shove"! Ok then. I wonder what to push and shove. Nevertheless, sounded strange. And after all this time, I guess I have brushed off on my little angel cause it was she who noticed the brand. A general request to all budding entrepreneurs...please don't have such weird names to your brands!! Sheesh!

All said and done, written and read, being corny or not is a matter of individual choice but if you want to think corny, go right ahead. There is nothing wrong about it.

Adios.

The art of SARCASM

It is an art that’s as old as time itself. Probably. Say something with a totally straight face and imply something completely different. That’s the art of sarcasm.

I was out to watch a movie with friends and met an acquaintance at the multiplex. “So…how have you been? Here for a movie?” was the question put forth by Mr. Acquaintance. My absolutely poker faced answer was “No..no…I am here for the Liverpool versus Manchester United soccer match. Wonder why it hasn’t started yet.”

Well, it’s a different issue that my sarcasm was wasted on him cause he gave me a strange look and a stupid smile. I mean seriously, why do people ask questions like these?! Is it just a desperate attempt to begin and continue a conversation or is it that the person is genuinely dwarfed in the head? Sounds like an unsolved mystery to me.

While some people are born with this ancient art running in every vein, some others cultivate it over the years. To me, it comes naturally and absolutely effortlessly. Even my little princess…Little T excels at the art. Sadly, sometimes I have come across people on whom sarcasm has no effect cause they just don’t see the point! In fact, I remember this one incident very clearly. A guy I knew in college was one day seen wearing a parrot green full sleeve shirt with brown corduroy trousers. The day was scorching hot. While sitting together and killing time, someone commented that the temperatures had become intolerable due to the lack of trees in the vicinity. I being me, turned around, looked at the guy who had commented, pointed to the guy in the parrot green shirt and brown corduroy trousers and said “don’t worry, Abu’s around. Just stick a few twigs in to his hair and you will have all the soothing shade that you’re looking for!”

Sadly, everybody understood except the person who it was intended for. Damn!]

Then again, there is sarcasm and counter sarcasm. Now, that’s fun cause it’s like a battle of wits. This is generally what happens when Little T and I have a conversation at our sarcastic best! Such conversations are long and memorable. But if you’re expecting e narrate one here, sorry, that isn’t happening. There are a little too precious to be shared.

Well, the fact that the profession I am in demands me to be sarcastic at most times is just incidental. Then again, there are people who just can’t stand this brilliant art! Well, I am not really surprised cause not everybody can appreciate an art form! In fact, I guess just like we have institutions that specialize in teaching certain forms of art, there should be schools that train people in sarcasm as well. It will not only propagate the art but also equip people better to handle unforeseen situations. What say?

Adios.