Tuesday, February 12, 2008


Remember the exhilarating rush of air that almost went through you the last time you sat on a swing? As if the breeze wanted to thwack you hard and say, "Fool! You rebuffed me for so long for the wily charms of a piece of wired metal?" Remember being held back, being bound by the chains of the swing, and yet being so free? The reassurance that you could just press your feet down and the world would instantly, miraculously, cease to rush? The satisfaction of being the master of your own invisible parabolic path? Of being at one with the wind; of being the mighty unseen itself? The innate joy on knowing that all it took to proceed for evermore was keeping your best feet forward? That all it took to rise above the rest of the world was your own self? That life could be as lazily slow or as spurtively fast as you chose to make it? That jumping mindlessly off the swing at its curved peak gave some crazy inner pleasure that no safe and staid thing could? Because risks pay off. Because when you're at the top, all of life's inanities seem just so mundane, so futile, and so...trivial.
Live. Breathe. Now.

Sunday, February 3, 2008


A Metro ride.
A young child pushing his mother ahead on a wheelchair. The Metro jolts to a stop. The child loses balance. The wheelchair moves topsy-turvily. A face freezes, numb; unaware, or reeling under a shock. A youth rushing to his feet. Strong hands clamping the handles. The reappearance of a smile. The sweaty backside of a hand being rubbed against a forehead in relief.

A Metro ride.
A crowded station. People getting back from work. A foreigner being stared at. The foreigner being jostled inside. A snigger. Poochh gore se kahaan se tapka hai? Feet being shuffled nervously. Eyes kept low. Dekhta hai jaise Hindustan par robe chalta hai, saala. Eyes being closed. Another pair of eyes glaring.

A Metro ride.
Please do not befriend any strangers on the Metro station or trains.
Metro station vaha rail par kisi anjaan aadmi se baat naa karen.

A Metro ride.
Scalding tea and a freezing brownie. A panic attack under urgent suppression; postponement. A lone shiver. A lone passenger waiting. Silence. My solitary shadow trespassing the rail tracks, only to be erased by an incoming train that breaks through my thoughts. A welcome break.


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