A Single Rose

Her footsteps echoed as she walked along the empty corridors. She peered into the stained glass window, and in the faint glow of a night lamp, she discerned the altar, almost unchanged, just the way she had remembered it. The entire place was deserted, fallen leaves lay thick on the stairs as she stepped out into the dark night. Hannah pulled her jacket closer, hugging herself as the cold bit her. She walked towards the grotto, where a few candles still burnt, probably left by a passerby stopping by after a late shift of work. The moon barely a sliver peered down through the grey clouds, her footsteps were sure as she made her way across the cobblestone paved churchyard, darkened by looming shadows.

A perfunctory prayer hovered over her lips silently as she stood in front of Our Lady, not failing to be struck by the depth in that beautiful face that had her captivated from childhood. But, this was not why she had come here today. Her heart beat quickened as she made her way towards the cemetery. Every sound, the twigs cracking under her shoes, chirping of nightly insects, and the faraway howling of a dog, magnified by the silence of the night, made her nervous. Finally she stood in front of a grave, with a simple headstone. She laid down a single rose on the cold marble. Biting her lip, she held back her tears.

Suddenly the cry of a baby pierced everything else. Hannah woke up with a start, morning sun was filtering gently through the curtains, and her husband was still peacefully asleep, oblivious to John’s cries. As she took the little bundle to her bosom, she tried to shake away her dream, one which recurred every now and then. Losing Tommy had been the hardest thing she had had to overcome in her 28 years. Even after 5 years, a loving husband, and the baby, some stubborn memories refused to fade. As John slipped back into sleep, she gathered her hair into a quick knot and woke up to go about her morning chores like any other day.

The Blue Couch

The blue couch had been part of the living room furniture for as long as I cared to remember. The couch was in no way extraordinary. But it was as comfortable as any. It was blue and soft and gently bouncy. We could leap back onto it and like a trusted old friend it would bear our weights, its old springs complaining maybe just a little. My brother and I have enjoyed many a hearty tiffs for the remote on its spaciously inviting lap-the generous upholstery always cushioning our blows and falls.

To us this couch was as important a part of our childhood as our favourite toys still treasured in some dark corner in our rooms. Many a times the couch had been moved around the room to suit my mother’s fancy during her numerous ‘redecorate the house’ frenzies. But little did i know that it would soon be moved out of the house in a fresh attack of my mother’s old malady.

On one of my weekend visit home from college, our living room had been transformed. The friendly old couch had replaced by this elegant wooden structure. Well it was indeed beautiful to behold alright- its wooden back with cane-work and its polished wooden seat had been adorned with two pretty cushions precariously balanced on their pointed sides. But it didn’t seem like my home anymore. For starters the TV was switched off and my brother was not found to be sprawling lazily on the couch flipping channels. Later I rather painfully realized that it was no longer possible to jump back on to this thing and land comfortably. And my brother and I no longer fought for the TV remote, as our first duel on the new seats resulted in bruises on my hand.

But my mother was extremely proud of the new piece of furniture. Visitors too were all praise for my mother’s elegant taste. Well they could afford to do that. They didn’t live here. It was all very convenient for them to compliment my mother and then get up and leave when their backs started to ache from sitting upright in our sophisticated new replacement.

And like all the other changes we grew up with, we accepted this one too. Moving on, leaving behind us the little things that are now merely a part of our memories of the oh-so wonderful childhood.

Memories and Dust

Photos strewn across cluttered tables

An old scrapbook bursting at its seams

Memories bind me, constricting cables

Reminders of another world and old dreams!

Shards of glass scattered on the floor

Tiptoeing, careful, lest a splinter cut me

I know they should lay there no more!

Yet here I am, unable to break free.

Reading once and several times again

I should stop and start writing now

To change the past would be in vain

On a fresh page I have to pen somehow.

Sweep away the broken glass, I must

New whiteness I have to embrace

Clear away the memories and dust

New words my pen shall trace!

Lingering Past

Lost in that endless maze, my memory lane

Trapped I am in that familiar snare.

To leave it behind would inflict pain,

Which I know not if I am ready to bear.

Dwelling upon old memories sweet,

Hours long, I can willingly spend.

The pace of the present, I’m unable to beat

The rigid walls of time, I wish I could bend.

With distrust in my eyes I do view,

(Reluctant to accept, to make it my own)

All present trials and ventures new.

Everything I have, merely from the past, a loan.

Special Someone

Special people are hard to come by

No greater joy than to have you nearby.

The thought of bidding you goodbye

Is terrifying like a drop from a cloud rather high.

But hope lingers, with many dreams and a few promises

Surely, our future has more in store than just a few kisses.

My Interstellar Trip

It was just another boring Saturday. Jamshedpur seemed peacefully unaware of the greatest milestone in the Hollywood world, dozing lightly in the chilly morning sunshine. 

Let me first admit that I wasn't aware of this great event myself till I heard the excitement in my boyfriend's voice when he spoke about it. Even though he was miles away, I could picture his eyes shining and feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins. And this in itself was something unprecedented in the last few months of our rocky long distance struggle. As he ranted in a frenzy about Nolan and McConaughey and how this movie may even overtake Shawshank Redemption on the IMDb ratings, I didn't want to miss this piece of history in the making.

My boyfriend had a lonely four-hour train journey to get through, a journey that we had been on together, way too many times. That's when I realized-that was my chance for the 'Interstellar Experience'. Separated by miles yet connected by technology he narrated the story.

Scene by scene the movie unfurled in front of me. I could see even the minutest details that he painstakingly described- the blight stricken crops and the sandstorms. I could almost feel the pain when Cooper left despite his daughter's requests. I was there when the wave took one of their crew. I could sense their indecision when they chose Mann's planet over Edmund's. And the pure Nolan genius that finally completed the circle and blew my mind. The concepts of relativity that we had struggled with, handled with such ease that would have made Einstein proud surely. I could go on and explain the full movie, but that would spoil it for all of you. Just believe me when I say Christopher Nolan is amazing, trust him to transport you to a world where even Interstellar travel is believable.

Most importantly for me, I felt that I was on that train with my boyfriend with his arm around me, listening intently to him, just like old times. It satisfied me in ways that words that cannot possibly describe, maybe those of you who live light years away from a loved one may get an inkling of what I'm talking about.

No spoilers for my readers. Yes book that ticket and watch the movie! Don't miss this one unless you are stuck in a place like Jamshedpur that sleeps tucked away quietly in a corner of the Earth. 

In words borrowed from Cooper "I'm coming back".

Random Gibberish

Why does everyone want relationships?

I once watched an interview that said that boyfriends are for lonely boring people who have too much time on their hands. I was no less fierce in my attacks at the girly fuss and mooning over the one ‘prince charming’ during my school days. I once considered myself invincible to these matters and mocked at people in relationships to be spineless, merely reveling in actions to win approval from another who had just simply hijacked their life.

I was rather happy making friends and living my simple happy life. Maybe that was why I failed to comprehend the exceedingly complicated lives my girlfriends led. To me it seemed as if they perpetually wore their hearts on their sleeves, sometimes making such utter fools of themselves that I’d rather have disappeared down a hole and never reappeared. One has to however hand it to them for their impeccable resilience, to be able to bounce right back into action. What was it that made boys so important to them that I couldn't fathom?

Don’t get me wrong, I liked boys too, but for other reasons. It was easy to get along with them, they keep you laughing almost constantly, there’s no need to make conversation for the sake of it, and you most definitely don’t have to be sure to notice the new lip colour he is wearing and for once you can be honest when asked have I become fat!

This was who I was- a typical rebel. But something changed somewhere along the way, I too experienced the feeling that I had found incomprehensible for the longest period in my life. Romance and mushiness is I guess ingrained in every girl, there’s no escaping it and I too fell a prey.

Well what can I say? Some things just cannot be explained, they need to be experienced and this is definitely one of those. With this wonderful someone in my life, I learnt things that I never knew about myself. Doing things by yourself is not always a sign of independence and turning to another for support not a sign of weakness. Being a source of strength and even inspiration for my significant other filled with a special kind of warmth – an emotion I had no idea I was capable of experiencing.

Life however was not a bed of roses. Despite all the happiness and the warm and fuzzy feelings, I too experienced my fair share of problems. But the trick I realized along the way, is to not lose yourself in a quest to win your partner’s approval. Communicate, discuss, debate even fight it out, but don’t give up something you are sure you want. If your loved one doesn't love you for who you are, then what is the point? A relationship is a beautiful bond where the two people love understand and accept each other for being the unique individuals they are.

Ha! Can you believe I’m offering relationship advice now? Love does funny things to you indeed. I’m glad I have a special someone in my life. However take it from me, if you are happy by yourself, there’s no earthly reason to set out on a hunt for that ‘one’.

Cheers to all you lovely people reading this. Life is way too short to worry. Live and let live. Have a great day!