My echo, my shadow and me...

I am trying to be silent. But the words bubbling in my mind never let that happen. Words that the processor somewhere in my brain is producing incessantly and tirelessly. Good words, bad words, cold words, warm words...There is no dearth of reasons; there is no dearth of occasions and stimuli. I have seen smiles, butterflies and fireflies getting transformed into words; words that will fuel your the journey ahead through miles of roughness. Chirruping of the morning birds, sound of creeper leaves in the breeze and rain drops take the shape of words, musical words that will flood you with emotions, keep you warm in chilling winter nights. There were thousands of occasions when I failed to stop the processor from converting the silences in between the conversations, blank spaces in between the lines into words, words that made me fret and sulk and pursue unwarranted turns on the paths. At times I put-up efforts to generate anti-words to fight with these, at times just take them...

I got curious and peeped out of the window to check what was happening on the lane out side. The little girl was crying her heart out stumping her feet on the ground. That she was crying despite being alone ( there were no one to pacify her) made me feel she was really upset about something. I usually find her playing with her playmates in the evening but never had any chance or reason for interaction. "Hey, what happened?" It seemed my question fueled her grieves and she started crying even lauder. " What happened? Why are you crying? May be I can help you out?" My second question succeeded in generating some response from her. " I am trying to collect the marbles in my hands," she said maintaining her sobbing. "But every time some of them slip out of my hand". That's when I noticed the collection of some twenty marbles she was struggling with. She had palms too small to accommodate more than five marbles at a time. Even if she managed to pi...

And there's the smell, the soothing scent of earth first time touched by the heavenly drops, the drops of rain. Yes, finally here's the first rain of the season, pulling me to the roof top...to watch the mixtu re of reactions of the surroundings. The morning birds were excited by the sudden change and started flying here and there randomly as if to express the fact that they were as happy as I am. The doves that were busy in their search for foo d took refuse in groups under whatever lit tle shed they found. The leaves of the gra pevine creeping on the wall waved with the mild wind, as if they were shying away from the first rain. Howe ver, soon with rain getting harder they will give up their efforts. In fact they will be the last ones to hold back rain water that will drip down in drops after the rain stops. The squirrels, usually fighting for food, g ot irritated by sudden disturbance. One of them started s creaming at the unwarranted disruption that was created. But...

"Why do you write?" "For chocolates! As per an agreement, for every post I write, I earn a chocolate." "Wao, that's amazing. I have heard people getting paid for blogs. First time I am hearing some one earning chocolates through blog posts." I knew my interviewer was not convinced by my answer, thought I was just kidding. Even I was not sure what was it that made me write for. Perhaps there was no specific reason, when I started writing. But now there's one... "Can you promise something?" "What’s that ?" "Can you promise that you will always be happy, what ever you are doing, where ever you are?" "I can't assure. But I’ll try my best." "No, trying best will not do. You have to promise that you will. You are a writer. You have strong imagination. You can do anything if you want. Just imagine yourself to be happy. You will." Yes, you are true. I can do anything and everything I wish. I open my eye...

"Just imagine smashing the window panes of the car one by one...How nice it will feel to hear the sound of the glasses crashing and getting scattered here and there! You'll say she's gone mad...but that's a temptation I have been nourishing from my childhood." I saw her eyes flashing with imagination while speaking out. "I know that's something I'll never do. But I can't stop myself from being delighted, imagining following the temptation," she smiled. Yes, this or that, perhaps we all are nourishing some of the wild temptations. Just like the wooden fences that tempt me. Every time I find myself surrounded by wooden fences, no matter what ever the height, I get the urge to jump over it, rather than getting out thorough the designated gate. The cricket ground was surrounded by houses with wooden fencing. Every time some out went for a full flanged over boundary, the ball used to land inside one of those boundaries. Hundreds of time, I resi...

One more post and I will be hundred. I noticed it the other day, from the numbers in the archive section of the side bar. It was beyond my imagination, that I will be able to make it so far, when I started blogging back in the summer of 2005 inspired by Soumyadip . That was just as an experiment. I had never tried writing anything more than the dry dead news reports before. The biggest question was 'Can I write?' I was a bit scared, a bit hesitant...but with time it evaporated and I slogged it to the century. Can this be a reason to celebrate? Is this an excuse big enough to gobble some bottles of beer and talk nonsense? "Tum ladko ko peene ke alawa celebrate karneka koi achha tareeka nehi choojhta kya? Bus bahan chahiye..." ("Can’t you guys think of a better way to celebrate? Always looking for excuses to drink?") No, hundred posts in a span of two years is not at all impressive. But, why these land marks? Why reaching hundred so important for you? Why do w...

My echo... Slowly the cracking sounds of the dry leaves died out and I got a feel of the rocky ground I was walking on...only sounds remained were that of wind and the last rays of the setting sun getting reflected after striking on the sharp edges of the uneven rocks... "Is there any one around? Can any one hear me?"...ear me?...r me?...r me?...me...e?...e?...e?” Words kept on bouncing till they lost all their energy in the roughness of the rocks and died out. My shadow... I saw him standing in front of the mirror with the same old tool box. "Hey, what are you doing?" "Can't you see? Trying to fix a smile!" "What a big job that is?" "Why don't you help me out? I have been trying for past one hour. But some how none of the smiles are looking good on my face?" I got busy with the screw driver...fixing different curves on the face, to fix the smile that looks perfect...after struggling for one hour mo...

There was a small stream flowing just outside of the school boundary, running parallel to it. There was a small bridge over the stream but we hardly cared for it as the stream was too small. But a year ago, last time a year ago when I had to cross it there was no way to avoid the huge concrete bride over it. The stream has grown into a river... It was a Friday and as usual there was excitement as there will be an hour long lunch break which we are going to invest in the game of cricket. That also mean's there are chances that the lunch will be sacrificed in the name of cricket. It was ensured that the bats and wickets were in perfect conditions. The moment the bell announces the lunch break, Nupur will rush to the nearby market to buy a ball. And everything happened as per the plan. The problem came when Ratul choose to hammer hard a full-toss ball with a full flung bat resulting into an 'over boundary'. The ground was not 'that big'. As per the rules of the game (a...

Sneaking in through the white fog screen the morning sun presented a new face a smile warm enough to fuel my walk thousands of miles and more... 'Smile today-tomorrow is going to be worst' If you are inspired by Murphy's philosophy, you will find yourself trying to abstract each and every ounce of reasons to put on a smile, a genuine smile and yes, there'll be no dearth of reasons when you seek... You will not be able to keep yourself from smiling when you find the squirrels and house sparrows getting into a mild fight around the issue of possession of the flatted rice you have spread on the roof top. It will definitely be difficult for you to resist feeling the bliss when in a few moments you find both the squirrel and the sparrow have given up the fight and sharing the grains like affable neighbours...one of the sparrows even dared to sit on the head of the senior most of the squirrels, and the squirrel, usually restless, choose to remain still as a host...a...

As if the winter has infused fresh blood into everything...the house sparrows seemed extremely happy as they skipped and jumped on the branches of the creeper in the front grill...the squirrels were unusually noisy. Adding to these happy music were the magpie and the fighter bulbuls...all these produced a musically noisy Saturday morning, forcing me to leave my bed earlier than usual...and I was happy with no particular reason... "What it is that you are happy about?" I tossed a question towards the man inside. But there were no answers, a silence inside that did not sound unnatural. So I tried rephrasing the question, (something I have been doing professionally through the past four years) in order to extract an indirect answer..."What makes you happy?" Ahoy! It did the trick...The biological search engine turned up with thousands of random answers in response and in a few moments I found my mind stuck in a thought-jam. Now the task in hand was to assort ...

"In the morning I had to drive with him to the tax office. Through out the way he lectured me on value addition, increasing knowledge bla bla bla...it was such a torture..." “You have had to listen to him only for an hour. I have to sit just next to him and listen to all these crap all through the day...” "Hey I have heard he was to be transferred to another position. But till now there's no symptom of that happening. If he remains in the department for a little more, is sure I am going to switch over...I just can't bear him any more." Sitting among the three I decided my next post will be something about the species called 'Boss' and the unique relationship between the bosses and their subordinates (we will be calling subs hereafter), well presented by the joke The assistant makes a mistake. Irritated, boss open fires at him... Boss: Kabhi Gadha Dakhe ho? (Have you ever seen an ass?) Assistant: (With lowered eyes) No Sir. Boss: Niche kya dekh rahe h...

Blankets of fog on both sides of the road showed winter is making inroads into Delhi. For the next few months, the city will be a pleasant stay. Lazy traffic movement on the road added to the deserted morning cityscape. As if being forced to leave the pleasant winter morning sleep, disgusted, the vehicles were moving on snooze. All these including the smooth movement of the vehicle, the road side trees running backwards produced a mirror with a hazy reflection of me in it...with time passing by it became clearer, to the extent where I can see the tiles of different colours that I am made up of...some of them with throbbing colours, some of them faded with layers of dust gathered over time... I found myself following the instinct, got busy dusting the tiles... Perhaps I was too consumed in restoring the fading colors and realised it only when the vehicle came to an abrupt halt, tossing me out of my place... "Mere colour, unspoiled by meaning, and unallied with definite form, ...

For most of the people from the part of the country I come from, Diwali is just an occasion to burst crackers. It was not much different for me too. The very thought of Diwali was scary (!) for me. My poor lungs were too weak to bear the amount of pollution in the air, thanks to the tons of crackers burnt. As the days closed in to Diwali and people around start count down, I would be crippled by the images of me, sitting in a corner of my bed, struggling for breath. I have had sufficient reasons to hate the festival. Even then there were certain things I liked about the festival. I was scared of it but waited for it...waited eagerly to watch the lines of diays that maa (mamma) would put around the house, making it look like a heavenly abode...I longed for the day when there will be silence all around; I would sit on a chair and watch the flames dancing with air waves. Sight of diyas struggling to keep themselves alive when air movements became too ruthless evoked countless thoughts i...

How tough can making chapatti be? If you are a natural cook, you will frown,"Making chapatti tough?" Ask me, I have been trying to learn that for the past four years.Just to add to the variety of food a bachelor can have at his own auspices. Even then I am miles away from proficiency. Demonstration of my imperfection starts right from the stage of preparing the atta dough. Either it will be too hard or too soft , as if to create problems at the time of rolling the dough into a disc. There will be no dearth of reason for the discs to be uneven, at times taking the shape of the map of India.As I was never good at drawing, a map of India used to take "more or less" the shape of a disc. Now, the chapatti discs I roll take more or less the shape of a map. The major disaster happens at the last and final stage, browning the discs. My teachers say chapatti can never be called well-prepared until and unless it puffs while browning. I have never seen that happe...

Photo courtsey: www.robi-bobi.net

"Yuji San! Are you happy?" asks Frank. (San is the Japanese equivalent of Mr.). Yuji looks at the space in front in a meditative mood (as if he is trying to work out whether he is happy or not). Then he draws a typical big Japanese smile on his face that reflects extreme happiness and shake head heavily, "Yes, Yes"(the second yes to confirm the first yes). This would set all five of us into a roaring laughter. This was the second time I met with Frank. He is 67 and a manager of a European auto giant. He works till 2 O'clock in the night (!) and gets up at 6 in the morning. In spite of that I have never seen him dozing off on a ride as long as four hours. I also have never heard him raising his voice to express dissatisfaction. His silence was enough to set all of us into motion to correct what ever mistake made or occurred. However his voice shakes everything around when he is happy, when he laughs. Yuji is an engineer. As it happens with almost all Japanese, Yu...