Mr Baker from Srilanka.

     It was that early dawn and I was supposed to come alive from my slumber state however, I couldn't make myself drown in the absymal river of drowsiness the previous night. Birds aren't tweedling yet, the sun seems to be the mistress of one noble gentleman slipping out of his hand, ray by ray, the air has a pleasant warmth about it. Life has always been good to me I thought, and today it was going to outperform itself.

     Special day or so it seems. Fortunate thoughts enveloped me that morning. A gleaming mask on and I stride the avenue with my unleashed Qi flow, like an Emperor in his rightful kingdom. Every step taps out confident rhythms, spreading the divine light in all three dimensions. Despite the monsoons, it's brighter than usual. The closest star is either happy to see me out today or it already knows about my hilarious venture today. Greeting everyone on this happy boulevard with an amiable smirk I arrive at the destination. Eyes wandering about for a glimpse of her as I take my throne. The strange thing is her presence as well as her absence awakens the blackhole within. Anticipation soars, Will she be here? What am I gonna do? I asked myself and it happened! She entered into my visible world.

     A pal addresses her arrival and I felt like I've lost all my Mojo in just a glance. I was melting away gazing at this angelic figure. My confidence dipped sub-hell. Words came out in the form of air. Moments like these keep me from turning into an atheist. The surroundings then blended into itself and all that I could see was an fanciful image walking across me.

     She sat about metre and a half from me while I pretended to listen to a folk uttering about structural theory. Playing 'Bingo', gawking with the corner of an eye I knew whatever humble intentions I had in mind, they were gonna go for a toss. Just like child praying for something and when it's really close to getting that stuff realises he/she doesn't deserve that happiness yet. Why did you have to be ultra beautiful today? I asked her in my head. God! wasn't that already awefully pretty face enough to make me bite my tongue that I witnessed this spectacle.

     The lecture has passed and a new one began. By-Laws I think it was. The faculty instructed us to form groups for the upcoming project and she asked me if I wanted to join hers. Now, considering my tendency to utter wrong words at crucial moments, I was really really close to say "I think I'll pass" with a fancy ass accent that I practiced in that fraction of a second. I don't know why I would've done that. But fortunately all I could manage was a sly "OK". Success, yes! That is enough happiness for one day, I thought, but this wasn't what I had in mind for today. I wanted to ask her out, very casually, not wanting to sound reckless. But I think I'll settle for this too.

     Design studio that noon had some juries where I couldn't maintain my focus on whats going on so I thought I'll visit the library and there she was, like an accidentally discovered treasure. I weirdly waved at her as I always do, took a seat with a newspaper in front and buried my face in it. A moment later find lady gorgeous next to me with a pair of books. I now felt like my heart will beat myself to death. Damn me, why can't I stay calm in times like these? It's not like she's here to literally take my breath away. I spoke to her in a confused tone, we talked about Mr Laurie Baker, a well known architect who apparently went honeymooning in the Himalayas. I declared that Mr Baker was from Srilanka to which she laughed uncontrollably. As I've already mentioned my tendency to choose the wrong words and embarass myself, this is why I keep my mouth shut. The joy of her overzealous giggles outweighed my embarrassment. I can make the same mistake forever if this keeps on happening I thought. But ofcourse it won't be funny the second time. I cite my unease a few minutes later and she bars her chuckle almost instantly. I mean, come-on it wasn't that funny either. I've heard better jokes where people disgorge their guts while they laugh and then they keep laughing and puking simultaneously. Browsing through some books for some time I then return to the studio to leave for the party later that night.

     Star studded sky overlooked the path I walked along with my friends to reach the venue. A gentle breeze caressed our backs as if kissing our asses gently. I'm tippy, the coke is working with the magic potion I consumed enroute. I can see the morale levels rising within me as a space shuttle. "Greetings! fellow citizens of this planet", I said to the bypassers. This feels good, especially when talking to people is not my forte. Excited faces crowd the lobby where I try to see myself in the mirror only to find an image of Jim Carrey from the movie 'Dumb and Dumber'. I know its too late to panic now so I just act cool with my 'This is how I roll' pretension. Then I saw her, in that utopian flash, I wanted to say so much but again didn't. I've already achieved euphoria I cautioned myself. Let the party be a smooth one for this day. My moves were sleek on the dance floor, maybe. Maybe not since I noticed those bruises the next morning.

     I noticed her, all geared up to leave and asked if she was leaving. She said "Yes" in that soft tone of hers. Just then, I leaned forward, brought myself closer to her ears and asked, "Would you like to go out with me sometime?" and she cackled again.

Fineprint

     So I was reading this article about staring a conversation with your crush and which also had some Dos and Donts while texting them and guess what, I did everything I wasn’t supposed to according to the author. Now, since the damage has already been done, I wander through the webpages to find a solution and Bazinga! I’ve found one on the same website.

     It says to sacrifice a squirrel on my kitchen counter and drink its blood to please Hedylogos, the god of sweet-talk and flattery according to Greek mythology. By doing this I may get what I want. Well, this is nearly impossible because, What if Mom finds out that there was squirrel meat in the kitchen? (Yes, we’re vegetarians) Hey, also I live in a city and its hard to find a squirrel around here. Due to non availability of a squirrel and a hardcore vegetarian family I decided to discuss this with my friend to find a way out. 

     Now whenever I’ve discussed matters of love with my friend, my already sinking ship seems like it never was a ship and I was sailing on a toilet paper and now my friend needs to wipe his ass. This guy, although with his strange phraseology and his ability to survive without a toothpaste for weeks or maybe months, had scored chicks since our dark school age. He carefully listens to the matter and before making any comment on the subject, takes a deep breath and spurts a sneezy laugh. In the process, he also blows a snot bubble the size of a hot air balloon. Do girls find these cute? Or maybe they just like to pin it and see snot all over my friends face. GROSS. 

     The guy agrees to help me with the procedure but demands to have the meat all by himself. Not a bad deal since I am a vegetarian and what would I do with a dead squirrel anyways. He offers his kitchen but we are still one thing short, The Squirrel. With the help of all the heavenly and earthly contacts we have, all we could manage to find as close to the lovely creature was a Beet-root. Yes, a beet-root for Gods sake and if you don’t see the similarity between the two, lemme tell you this, When you slaughter any of them, your hands turn red and you feel guilty for what you’ve done. So here we are, at my friends kitchen ready to sacrifice a beet-root and drink its red, bitter blood and its flesh for my buddy. We look at each other like a pair of drunk blueline buses, we can kill and in addition we look like we are drunk. Next moment I am on the verge of becoming a serial killer as I already killed an innocent root and now I feel like doing it again. But then the carnivore in the kitchen reminded me of the purpose we were there for. I gulped in the maroon red life fluid and my friend as per our deal had to munch on the leftover.

     All things said and done now I wait for the miracle to happen. What would it be? Will some power go back to the past and change the words I typed in my phone? Will she forget what she read? Or whatever I text will sound cool after all I’ve done? I was hoping for something to happen but I knew miracle sometimes don’t occur at once. I had to be patient. So exactly after 169 seconds of long wait I panic again and run towards the living room where my friend was having the last remains of a war dragon or that maybe the beet-root we killed. We go through the texts once again and nothing seems to have changed. Then my friend suggests we check the glorious article once again to see if we missed something and wtf we did miss the fineprint which says the article is for teenaged girls and the rituals would have no effect if performed by anyone else. 

     Why in the name of God would a teenage girl take such a dangerous and cruel leap of faith? What is this world coming up to? How can sacrificing something make a miracle happen? I seriously lost all hope in humanity after the event and my friend doesn’t talk to me anymore. Maybe he doesn’t have sufficient balance to make that call but anyways now we know what we hate to our guts, BEET-ROOT.

Mirage

I chase the mirage,

just for I know it is.

It gives me hope,

But it still is not what it seems.

Morning comes precociously,

or was I up all night.

I need to slumber all that i can,

in my dreams, to have your sight.

Delusion, oh what delusion,

I realize of its camouflage.

Still I long for the one thats not,

and is only a Mirage.

Untitled

Nazaara wo shab me jaise ek Gul-andaam tha,
Kuch kahe na sune main uski adaon ka ghulam tha.
Badi koshish ki rokne ki is dil ko magar,
Wo bhi bada nafarmaan tha.

Poonchti hai mujhe ke kya banna chahta hoon main,
Kaise bataun is Paree-zaad ko,
Usi ke hoton ki muskaan aur,
Usi ke nazron ka gauhar banna chahta hoon main.

Roothi wo mujhse aur main khudse hi rooth gaya,
Is jahan se jaise mera rishta hi toot gaya.
Kaise manaoon main apne aap ko,
Jab uske aansuoon ka sehlaab,
Mera dil-e chain loot gaya.

Do khwahish jo bakhshe khuda mujhpar,
Ek uske naam kar doon,
Yahi arzoo hai meri ki,
Wo mujhe maang le aur main use maang loon.


Aashiqi ke chaman ka kya kahein,
Ek hi Gulab nazar aaye is Gulistaan me.

Distress

Plagiarism.

The Cardinal Pallette