Sunday Musinggs...

Lazy Sunday...yawn..yawn.All I am doing is humming this quaint oldie Aaj jaane ki zidd na karo.The melody is heady and Farida something (beginning with K), has suchha ethereal voice...It takes me high, to a different world of probably love(?).That's all..I am not wasting my Sunday trying to understand love n all...Will try some other time...something for the next post..So hum along:
Aaj Jaane Ki Zidd Na Karo
Yu Hi Pahalu Mein Baithe Raho
Haye Mar Jayenge
Hum To Loot Jayenge
Aisi Batein Kiya Na Karo

Tum Hi Socho Zara
Kyu Na Roke Tumhein
Jaan Jati Hai
Jab Uthake Jaate Ho Tum
Tum Ko Apani Qasam Jaan-e-Jaan
Bat Itani Meri Maan Lo
Waqt Ki Qaid Mein Zindagi Hai Magar
Chand Ghadiya Yahi Hain Jo Aazad Hai
In Ko Kho Kar Abhi Jaan-e-Jaan
Umr Bhar Na Tarasate Raho

Kitana Maasum-O-Rangin Hai Ye Sama
Husn Aur Ishq Ki Aaj Meraj Hai
Kal Ki Kis Ko Khabar Jaan-eE-Jaan
Rok Lo Aaj Ki Raat Ko

A Distant Memory...

As kids we all have our own lot of bhoot-pret anecdotes, thanks to the earnest enthusiasm of our Grannies and Great Grannies...and they indeed are a success at continuing the legacy of the supernatural.While this creates a base in our unripe minds of a dark and sinister world that cannot be helped or handled, and may end up creating foolish ninnies out of us who shake at the trivialest noise..I am not going to pass a judgement on them.These certainly create a action packed childhood.The story I am going to recount is of nobody's doing but my own mind's.

Dad, being in the Indian Army had to keep moving from one place to other: and without doubt our family followed suit.That's how I got to see a lot of different places and found myself in a new and strange school every two years.This was at the time when I was a student of class 1...way back in 1992(?).In a place called Bareily(UP), we were posted.The school there was a quaint red brick building.There was a senior part of the school(called 'bada school') and ours was the primary part (called 'chota school').There was a drain(nala) with a rickty plank that served as a bridge(atleast that is what we used to call it).Now when I think about it, it was just a laughing matter. But, for me as a small child my entire attention was rivetted to the time when I was to cross that precarious bridge again.I was sure it will be the end of me one day.It was constantly creaking under the rapid pressure of a rowdy bunch of students trying to overrun each other at chutti time.Once when I somehow managed to find myself in the middle of such a surmounting confusion on that plank, I thought my end was near...my face was wet with tears and I was wailing.But, as fate would have it, I was rescued.The incident kept me shaken for the rest of my days in that school and I always left school in the very end.Now, reader this was just a digression beofre I launched into the real tale.

My classroom was more dark than I can remember.The walls were cold and moist and very rough.I have no memory of my classmates save that I know they were a bunch of snooty girls and indifferent boys.I never managed to fit in with them.There was ,however, an exception.I had two friends,two boys. I cannot recall their names.We were forever getting out of class and roaming about, running through the building and discovering new places-the scarier the better.There was a room with the heighest ceiling ever.It was a store room with glass doors, and the furniture inside was broken piled one top of other till one could hardly see the ceiling.A lone ray of sunlight had somehow found its way in that room, and there was a dazzling halo coming from behind the wasted pile.It was magical, and the three had always loitered around the room, never daring to stand near the door(you see, the door could suck you in). The room was particularly interesting because there were the remains of crows n other bones and a pigeon nest.

My friends told me that many a students had been murdered in that chamber.It was a punishment room, in which you were locked for the night, and in the morning only the body remained. The same happened to the crows and other animals.Whosoever entered, never returned.It chilled me to my bones.One of them even managed to impress upon me that the furniture pile resembles a demon with many hands.It came alive at night.The only way to keep it from killing us was to feed it with fruits.Since that day the precious contents of my lunch went to that damned door.We even picked up berries(shatoot) and deposited it at the door to quench the demon's fury.Then we felt the wall on either side of the door and shook our heads at each other...'it was eating'.

One day miraculously the door opened.Probably some cleaning business.But, to us the demon was out.Whenever someone whispered I thought it was about the only thing I could think of.My friends suggested that one of us should go in and try to tell the demon not to harm us.But, none of us could muster up such courage.It was then that one of them made the rule that all of us have to do either of the two.Go to the demon, or go in the toilet.Now, I have comfortably forgotten to recount the terror of the toilet.It was the darkest place on earth and emitted the strangest sounds.No one in the right frame of mind would attempt to go there.We had seen some bigger students go in and come out in one piece.But then it was well known that whatever was inside harmed only the small children.

So that was that.A choice had to be made.We unanimously selected the toilet.Something that we still hadn't seen was preferred to the immediate dilemma facing us.It was break time.We held each others hands and looked self-important as well as scared to shit.Step by step, heart to heart ,left right left we all walk down, like scared 5 yr olds.Once inside the huge room, we could not see a thing..it was pitch dark.This is an extreamly unpleasant feeling...as you were groping in the darkness for something solid...and there are a thousand things out there to get you, maybe just behind you, or on your left or your right..and gosh! you couldnot see them.I could hear the shallow breathing...who was it???coz I know none of us had air left in our lungs.Still I had to keep my curiosity to myself as I didnot dare to make a sound.Suddenly, I was all alone...we had left each others' hand.Gradually my sight seemed to return and what I saw did not make me any happier.The compartmentalised toilet rooms were vacant...nothing human or otherwise...With a lot of courage I look above.I shouldn't have.

The ceiling was higher than anything known to me...like a huge dark sky coming down on me...the cobwebs halfway down were gloomy...sunlight came weakly through the dust encrusted(probabaly a century worth of dust) window panes.The air hung solid and there was a sickly greenish feel everywhere.As I gazed ahead I saw a half wall at a great distance and something was peering at me.It was a long face very long and strange...with big eyes and no nose and huge teeth.It had horns and was looking at me steadily.There was sounds of shuffling and the strangest possible noise.I was fixed and rooted...the gaze of the monster intensified and I felt as though it was nearing...that face.The taps were gurgling and sudden jerky noises of blocked water made me jump everytime.I could not speak and thought that I had lost speech.All I could hear was a swish..faint at first and then quite vigourous.Everything was turning white, strange white, I felt like my feet were liquid and I was falling down.There was no room left for thoughts now.

When I opened my eyes next, both my friends were looking at me and there was the groundsman.It would not have been very long.But, my nerves seemed to be shaken pretty badly.My friends were smiling and said we had successfully killed the demon and pointed somewhere.I found that the doors of the store room were open..n all the furniture was lying out in the verandah.I was too weak to respond.The groundsman was trying to make me drink some water, and seemed highly irritated that we were consuming his time unnecessarily.I stood up with some effort.It was already post break.So I joined the class.After the school got over I hurried back without stopping to talk to the two of them.Actually. I never ever spoke to them again...and if they tried to talk I ran away.

P.S:Later I found out that there was a stable on the other half of the primary toilet and horses were kept.Now, that didnot alleviate my fears.

One Of tHOsE ThinGGs..

Weekend...weekend, yet another two-days of freedom.Even though weekend holidays donot matter right now-to me:coz I'm freeee and to my brother:coz exam time.After a week even he would be entitled to have the leisure that I(suffer)have.Yet, both of us agree that there's something magical about a Saturday and Sunday.School days are a thing of past, and school discipline, homework and the blessed weekend too seem too faraway.Still, I guess that special something about weekends has grown in all of us...and it is there to stay.

I am missing my friends.Hostel life would always remain special because of those chosen few.How much fun it was, days to throw back our heads and laugh...pulling each other out of the beds...missing the breakfast almost religiously...planning shopping sprees...borrowing makeup;accessories;and clothes...ordering food nearly everyday n fighting over the bits...stealing biscuits n ghar ka ghana(oh the precious lil potlies)...waking up till wee hours n treating ourselves to a must-have midnight snack...dividing work...bunking class...PNPC...affairs...career crisis...talking non-stop against the countless injustices of hostel life...playing stupid games of "good points-bad points"...having little fights n sending sms-apologies(as d doors were closed)...d funny cat-fights(just bcoz Godu n sona wud get bored)...trying in vain to surpirise d Bday girl(a common conspiracy,but much too sweet)...running around for medicines in case one of us was ill...d constant promise to start studies "tomorrow"(alas it never came :P).Gosh, how I miss those days of weird hair colours, equally weird Tees n shoes.We were forever looking forward and wondering how it would be by this time the next year.We parted ways with the promise to meet again...only wish it materialises(fingers crossed).Here's hoping for all of us that fun times may never end; with hugs n laughs n a few good friends.

P.S:love u sonu,ani,godu,mulo,montu,psycho...life wud be a punishment widout u guys!!

The hardest part of doing Absolutely Completely Damnably nUthiNgg!!

Somebody, I am not sure who(but somebody must have) said : A man without a motive is like a ship without a radar. While I solemnly swear I have a motive(and a pretty good one at that), I confess that for the past sometime I have been exceptionally jobless, indolent, and with no interest whatsoever to change my condition.Surprisingly, it is not sleeping till noon, that occupies me.No, not that.I generally get up at 5 in the morning and prepare myself for a day of work, good and meaningful.So, I begin with a walk across half the town,while the handful of early risers(vegetable vendors,ricksawwalas,chaiwalas groping in the last darkness)stare with natural curiosity and, I bet, some contempt.Amidst all I carry myself, huffing and puffing and working really hard to convince myself of the worth of such a task.

But with the rising sun, my hope drowns.On the right side of my bed half a dozen books stand piled.These are the ones I already completed(also,undoubtedly my favourites).Looking at these gives me a silent satisfaction as well as a revolting shouting craving for something more.I fervently wish that I had not finished these, so that I still would have the pleasure to have them as potential readables.I am through with books.Enough.

Then I take resort to my laptop, and if God is good and the modem responds I get the opportunity to find myself online.Great, online...now whatt??!!??check the scrapbook.Next 15 mins invested there.Bored.Next??check mail...hardly 5mins.Then??Wikipedia...searching for an array of stuff from the grail...to head of the states...to the origin of my name...to Clark Gable...to gone with the wind...to bermuda triangle...to blackholes.half way through I lose interest and the other half way my internet connection loses it.That'll do.

Television sucks bigg time. Newschannels go on with the same stuff again and again and again ad nauseam.But poor things, now they cannot make new stuff for me every second.Abandoned.An occasional classic on some channel keeps me hooked on for some blessed hours.Music channels I avoid with all my might.The same crap over and over again.Can't they play some oldies, and semi-oldies??

Lately, I have taken recourse to cooking.Every weekend I cook something special for my brother.Last week, it was Aloo Tikki.The rest of the week I try to plan and learn some new stuff and bug Dad to get the necessary ingredients.But, Dad eventually ends up doing more that what is required of him.He would constantly poke his nose and try to help and tell me an unendurable thousand times that I cannot handle pots and pans, and cooking is not my game(which I conclude is an obnoxious lie or unpardonable ignorance on his part).We constantly fight during the preparations and I can hardly remember a time when the serving was done with the both of us in good humour.My brother says, all this has a negetive impact on the food.So, I have learnt to cautiously ignore Dad's intrusions.This week I plan bread rolls.Let's see. Will definitely report it.

However, overall I cannot find anything worthwhile to do.With my brother locked in his room with books(boards u see),I have nothing to do but daydream.A jolly bad idea, I say.Once I tried pulling out my hair out of utter boredom.But, with so much iron in the water here wreaking havok on my hair I could not but be merciful to the lot.So,here I am putting down all that pent up crap in my blog.Convenient, must say.

The most beauitful song ever...

LEAVING ON A JET PLANE
by Chantal Kreviazuk

All my bags are packed
I'm ready to go
I'm standing here outside the door
I hate to wake you up to say goodbye.
But the dawn is breakin' it's early morn'
The Taxi's waitin' he's blown his horn.
Already I'm so lonesome I could die.
So kiss me and smile for me
Tell me that you'll wait for me
Hold me like you never let me go.

'Cause I'm leaving on a jet plane
Don't know when I'll be back again.
Oh babe, I hate to go.

There's so many times
I've let you down,
So many times I've played around,
I tell you now they don't mean a thing.
Ev'ry place I go I think of you
Ev'ry song I sing I sing for you.
When I come back I'll bring your wedding ring.
So kiss me and smile for me,
Tell me that you'll wait for me,
Hold me like you never let me go.

'Cause I'm leaving on a jet plane,
Don't know when I'll be back again.
Oh babe, I hate to go

Now the time has come to leave you,
One more time let me kiss you,
Then close your eyes, I'll be on my way.
Dream about the days to come,
When I won't have to leave alone,
About the times I won't have to say
So kiss me and smile for me,
Tell me that you'll wait for me,
Hold me like you never let me go.

'Cause I'm leaving on a jet plane,
Don't know when I'll be back again.
Oh babe, I hate to go

Diary of Jane

Now that I have been listening to it for almost a day, I am in love with this song. The video too is good enough, though we have had a lot of this kind..I mean the semi-gothic lot...dark,enticing,withered flowers, wilted paper and nature in sinister somnolence...n d Jane is definitely uncommonly common to look at(and pretty pale too).But, overall it is tolerably OK.

so hum along..as I try to find my place in the diary of Jane...

http://youtube.com/watch?v=iTafQnXY5vY

Wildflower

for my dear child Ann

lil brunnete...child of the wild winds n cold rains..but she is soothing to one that needs her. Sleeping in oblivious calm she is in her native land :a strange land of overwhelming paradoxes..of stark white and blatant black. There she is among her playmates...whirling around in splendid circles that blaze and scare, and touch and move.She laughes, and I am glad she does so. Does it frighten you, you bony man, you old fossil?To me it is a spark of joy, of wanton playfulness, of terrible power, of burning magic, of covetous dreams, of wildflowers, of bounding leaps...

Vigourous and vindictive, but not vapid. Her eyes spell out quaint queries, and man might shamefacedly stare or stoop to it all. None is answerable. So true. On a bitter winter evening, sitting lonely on a cold couch she looks out to see the multitude of nothingness, of waste and silent clamour. She sings old songs of lost alleys, long forsaken by her fellows. She counts the taps of the nude tree branch against her window pane and thinks of what others are doing right at that moment in their homes, neighbourhoods,lanes and countries. I leave her there among the silence of a dying day to ponder and argue and laugh and talk. But I do not leave empty handed, I have a little light that I borrowed from her...little but enough for me. Her gurgling laughter and evocative silence let's my soul expand and breath.

The last I see her in absolute whiteness...dancing in the garden daisies...her little fingers played with the air and an invisible tune found its way to the denizens of her world, of which I had lately become a part. It was the laughter of some ethereal creation of God. I know not what pleasures lay in that mid-summer morning, among few swaying daisies and honey-drunken butterflies. She seemed to be in a trance..she swirled in grace...the aura caught her. I danced too. Her frenzy was contagious...End the scene with light hearted mirth and such soluble sentiments.

Even today, that aura is inviting, the music is flowing, and the dance is being danced...but it is out of focus for me...Ann has moved away, she has moved ahead... giving all she has to a someone different...ages part us. Still, to me she is that child of dreams, almost unreal...she is the sky and she is the abyss, she is the song and she is the singer, she is the lyre and she is the music...she is storm and she is tranquility. My little doll of binaries. She stands forever between me and time...the world is behind me, and God behind her.