In a daze

He saw her walk across the hall. He was hooked. Despite the flurry of activity and million voices around him all he could see was her and all he could hear was her laugh. Someone shook him out of his reverie, he could've killed him but he realized it was his boss. Cursing inwardly, he tried to focus on what boss was saying, but his eyes kept searching for her, but she had disappeared.

The days went by in a daze. He couldn't get her out of his head and his eyes sought her in that hall every single day, but in vain. He imagined her laughing, at first it filled his heart with joy to hear those peals tinkle in his head, but the joy soon turned bitter as he imagined her laughing at him, mocking him, scorning his frustration.

The happiness that lay in the anticipation of catching a glimpse of her soon gave way to hatred. His eyes still looked hungrily for her, but now this search was not for the love that had once blossomed in his heart. Now he searched for her to punish her, to teach her not to make a mockery of him.

But the vengence too faded into oblivion, afterall, how long could he sustain it of his own accord, without providing it without the required instigation to fuel it? He was left hollow. These gamut of emotions had drained him completely and he felt empty from the inside; a shadow of his former self. His friends noticed it too and he soon stopped feeling the need for company. His friends statred shunning him and soon he was spotted floating alone, ostracized, desolate, weathered, as if he had lived 10 years in that one.

She saw him one day, standing by himself in one corner of that fateful hall where he had seen her exactly a year ago to this day. She went up to him and said hello. His breath froze sharply, for he instantly recognized that voice. He went through a billion emotions in an instant, he had relived that one year in that one instant. It took him all his effort to open his eyes and turn to look at her. He marvelled at his own ability to feel so much and so many feelings for a single person who he hadn't even ever spoken to. He was sorely tempted to react, acknowledge the effect she had on him, tell her; give her inkling of what all she had done to him, but his exhaustion got the better of him. Somewhere deep down inside he knew he did not have the strength to feel again. She had drained him of everything!! He ignored her and continued to stare into vacant space. Puzzled, she moved on.

And so ended, what could have been, the greatest love stories of our times.

Spare a thought!!

I suffer from this incurable disease..its called equality!! Now i know that in today's day and age its an archaic concept and therefore i dont belong...but my version of equality is not in line with the 3 great pillars of the French Revolution nor do i share the vision of our founding fathers who established equality as the spirit of the Indian Constiution...my idea of equality is very localized. it starts and ends with people, things and stuff that are in direct contact with me. Pluto, as you shall read on and learn, is an exception.

My hassle starts early in the day the minute i open my eyes. if i put my left leg on the floor first then the feelings of my right leg shall be kept intact by ensuring that it enters my bathroom first. If i put on my right sleeve first then the left leg of the trousers must be worn first. If the left socks is worn first, then the right shoe goes in before the left one..and so on and so forth..you get the point right?? you will ofcourse appreciate the amount of toll all of this takes on my mental faculties..so if the next time you see me and i am semi bald, please dont get shocked.

well, this entire business of equality doesn't end with just this...when i eat, its usually in the company of a calculator, hold the sighs and i shall explain how and why. My meal of 2 veggies, a dal and some roti involves calculations that only Chacha Chaudhry is capable of. each side of my mouth will have the same number of bites of each vegetable in a particular order. and if, in the unlikely event, coz i plan it so, the number of bites is an odd number, then either its chewed completely in the centre of the mouth or is split into two. in light of this concept of equality, i have also perfected the art of looking and sounding extremely interested in what the person acorss me is saying while all the time calculating in my head as to where the next bite of paneer should go and when the left side of my mouth will be able to eat the rajma its been eyeing for 5 bites.

ofcourse this concept of equality is inculcated in every single moment of my existence..which also explains why i cannot bear to see the last sip or the last morsel of soemthing being left out of sheer politeness. noone seems to spare a thought to its feelings. you dont think that the last piece of chicken wings that you left on the plate will be feeling left out? you dont think it privately go and shed tears at the thought of being seperated from all its friends???? how insensitive can you be??? shame on you!!

but whaty got my goat (i know it s a lil belated, but i've been meaning to write about this for a bit now) is what we all did to Poor Lil Pluto. He was told (I am safely assuming its a male) (poetic license please) that he was the coolest one...small, compact, enjoyed his journey round the sun so took the maximum amount of time to do it...he was the dude, uber cool!! He was the one who left the ladies all pins and needles (remember My Very Eager Mother Just Sat Upon Nine Pins??) suddenly, one day, as he was merrily chugging along around the sun, taking in the view, feeling the wind through his surface, completely oblivious to the life changing stuff that was going around him, he was suddenly told that he was no longer a planet!! GASP!!!! Couldn't we have broken this news to him a lil gently??? is this the way to tell someone that they've been demoted...stripped of their personality, their being and rendered useless, just one of the teeming billions??? did we for a second stop to think of what Poor Lil Pluto must've felt like???

I tell you, its an insensitive world that we live in...

My hand nurses a glass of wine;
In a room that’s dimly lit.
Up till now everything was fine;
Now for grief I search a bit.

A dark secret in my heart;
One that brims with pain.
Deep misery on my part;
Or atleast one I must feign.

That is how poetry is born;
Or so I have been told.
By masters who scorn;
At my venture oh so bold.

From great tragedy and unspoken fears;
Do the greatest poems stem.
I search in vain for hidden tears;
Not one drop to produce a gem.

I tossed the wine in the sink;
And switched on the light.
My poetry will be happy I think;
I am not giving in without a fight.

Don’t force sadness, don’t be low;
If in the end it sets you free.
Those words, I’ll have you know;
Are the purest form of poetry.