Monday, September 25, 2006

Love Story Continues .....

He saw her again. He couldn’t believe his luck. They boarded the same bus and guess what she was sitting in the adjoining row of seats but at the same level as he was. When ever he boarded the bus he always made sure that he sat by the window seat. But today he was glad to make an exception and took the corner seat and just hoped that some one whom he knew shouldn’t turn up at this moment. Think of the devil and he is there. One of his best friends ‘A’ got on the bus. ‘A’ came right to his seat. Though he was pretending to be asleep ‘A’ had no qualms about waking him up.

‘Abe kya kar raha hain?’ ‘A’ asked.

‘Dikhtha nahin hain kya so raha hoon’, he said.

‘Chal chat mat, andar jaa, mere ko jagah de’, ‘A’ said.

He grudgingly made way for A. Normally he would have been happy to see A because it’s good to have some body to talk to during the bus journey otherwise he would have to resort to Radio and hear Sunaina – Nimma smile specialist. He dint mind the music on the radio but he wished there was less of RJing. Today A was not in a much of a mood to talk and he had no intention to make him talk. On his day A can talk for hours and hours about everything under sun, topics ranging from Pink Floyd to gay rights but today he was conspicuously quiet and he couldn’t have chosen a better time.

Now he had to bend forward to look at her. He was thankful that A had closed his eyes. But to his disappointment she also closed her eyes. He had hoped to catch her eye today and see if he can notice any sign of recognition from her face. But she closing her eyes had its own advantages. He can ogle at her without the fear of being caught. He had never seen her this close before. He was afraid that she might not look as pretty as she did during the road crossing. But he was glad to realize that he was wrong.

She couldn’t have looked more beautiful. There was a childlike innocence on her face. There was absolutely no strain of a hard days work. He wondered what she might be dreaming about. He envied what ever the object of her dream was. It dint matter to him whether it was a man or woman or any other inanimate object. He just wished he could transfigure himself into the object of her dreams.

She was sleeping with her bag on the lap and her head lolled sideways. He cursed the bad roads. There was a faint smile on her face which would be imperceptible for a casual observer. He never thought he could feel this way watching a woman sleeping. He could have sat there all night and watched her.

Today he dint seem to have any luck. There was not much traffic on the roads and he knew that he would have to get down at the next stop. It was pouring down outside. On any other day he would have been staring out of the window in to the rain but today he had a better option.

‘Abe sale uth, apna stop aa gaya’, he shook A.

A got up and rubbed his eyes. A clutched his bag and made way to the door. He reluctantly got up and followed him. He suddenly realized that she should have gotten down at the stop before. He wondered whether he should wake her up but again gave up the idea. Then she suddenly opened her eyes and looked around. She immediately got up and made her way to the door. The bus stopped all three of them got down and found themselves getting lashed by the rain. She coolly took out her umbrella from the handbag and walked away. He had an urge to follow her but decided against it. ‘A’ had already run for cover under a coffee shop. He stood there for sometime and made his way towards A.




Tuesday, September 05, 2006

Untitled

Questions I mayn’t ask you!


Did your time fly? Did it heal?

Did another bud bloom in your garden later at dusk?

Did another soul caress your stubble and lock that gentle smile in her eyes?


Did every mole of yours tell you stories, like mine did?

Did I become a distant memory that spoiled your days?


Did you yen to unburden your uncontrollable tears on to my bosom, back again?

Did you wish to snuggle up to my neck on those hazy dawns?


Was I the love that you embraced in your juvenility?

Was I merely a passing cloud that retained a soft corner?

Did I become the past that you abhorred to reminiscence?


Did you play the silly pranks we created ever again?

Did your vivacious laughter find its right destination later sometime?


Will I be worthy of a mention in your book about love?

Will you say, ours was everything that love could be?

Will you sing the symphony of our bond on my grave?

Will you stroke my hair once before fire engulfs the me that was always yours?


Time didn’t heal. The sun didn’t rise.

Never again for me.


Questions I’m dying to ask you!


This piece was written by one of my very good friends. She can describe any emotion so beautifully, there are times I wish I can write like her. This was a piece written in extreme pain. Why is it that best pieces of art come out when people are in pain?