Wondering...

As one completed the others’ sentences, and yet could not become one
One claimed to be the other half and the other claimed the same
And as one said you are same as me, the other smiled
Because the one thought it was true, as did the other

It was not just a piece of soul which both bartered
It is a part of life which neither will forget
Vivid memories only to become sepia

And one proudly wore the other's scent, and felt so close
They owned each other like none could possess
The purity of amore, which can’t be described in words, enveloped them
Entwined as they were together, destiny they did not know

Like the water of life, they swam in the ocean
As they realized, against the tide they shall have to go
Trying to outwit the pain, they played along

Neither knows where the waves will take them
A ship to rescue or a shore awaits them
Only time can tell what is written
A rope which holds them, will it break away

If it does, then their souls will be pierced
Like shards of broken glass, falling from the sky
Red rivers will flow, and drown they shall, in the ocean of life

Wondering if twain shall meet again
And if the pain was worth it, even though a part of them died
And what if they hadn't met each other
Would they trade the bitter sweet for something else

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P.S: Wishing everyone a Merry Christmas and A Happy New Year

Originally posted on Tuesday, December 26, 2006 12:30 PM

An Old Man And His Tales

Getting late on a Monday morning is a no-no for me. As I reached the auto stand, there was no auto in sight and then I saw one coming slowly. Frantically, I waved my hand and I flagged it down.

I haggled with the driver, an old man with long curly salt and pepper bread, and kindly eyes. After fixing the price, I plonked on the auto seat, took out my newspaper, began munching on dry fruits and started reading.

But the old man had other ideas!

He was a talkative person who told me how the situation was in 1980s and 1990s and how much the fare was, where people liked to travel and how South Delhi was just till Hauz Khas and Green Park.

He constantly kept talking somehow reminding me of old people who keep muttering to themselves. I politely nodded a few times, which I hoped would give him some hint that I wasn’t interested in make a conversation.

But he wasn’t the kind to take hints. On top of it he was driving at a speed of 35 km/hr, jumping out of his seat every time a bus came too close by.

I looked at my watch almost getting resigned to the fact that I could be late today.

Meanwhile Shamshauddin (he looked like his name would be this) kept going down the memory lane.

Half way though my journey, I realized that – 1. I would definitely be late 2. Shamshauddin would not stop talking.

We people living in the metros rush though our life so much, in a hurry to get from one place to another that we don’t even stop to greet our neighbour or have a conversation with people.

I folded my newspaper, proceeded to talk with him and had a pleasant morning till I reached my destination. Not because I had no other option but his tales were quite interesting too.

The old man reminded me something which I and my young counterparts have forgotten - virtues of an unhurried life!

Originally posted on Monday, November 27, 2006 5:44 PM

Paradox - Its My Life

Life can be paradoxical. Some say it is what we make of it. Others say it's destiny. We always have a choice. What governs our choice?

Social surroundings, religious upbringing, conviction. To put in simpler terms- heart, head, people and faith. We make a decision based on these. Where does destiny step in? Somewhere its written that life is meant to be like this. I may go against the tide and yet not get what I want. i may put in my best efforts and things will still not work out. And if things are meant to be, then even if the whole world is against me, I'll get what I was pining for.

So is life a pradox or not? Wat say guys?

Originally posted on Monday, October 17, 2005 10:52 AM