My Life, A Cocktail

She had never wanted him in her life. And yet, somehow, he was always there. Perhaps it was because he liked to be around. But her eyes were always searching, for something more exquisite, something that glittered and shone. And then he wanted to shine. To wear the intellect halo. So the passers by could notice. She was too busy to notice. The light shone into her eyes, and she made it seem like it hurt. She turned away, into the dark. He took her everywhere. He did all that she would have ever wanted him to do. She smiled, and let him take her in his arms, and when it got sticky, she would scoff at him, and move away. People told him not to care. People are vulnerable. After all, the evil is always warded off. She stood there like she would never move again. She was evil. Standing tall, smiling, at her own defeat. She was evil, who turned love into hate. She was evil, who did not care. She saw him walk away, with his intellect halo and his individuality. That which had come from her,

I don’t have much experience, I must admit. Being brought up abroad, for me, relatives were just people whom you take away gifts for, during your visit to India, and in turn, you get to spend some time with them, to sit and laugh, and recall memories no one actually remembers. But what happens when you are done with earning all your dough abroad, and come back… And… one fine beautiful morning, relatives come calling… Welcome… Now, that’s one important thing you must do. Pick up them up at the airport or station or bus stand or your doorstep. Carry their luggage for them, irrespective of the fact whether they have goodies in store for you or not. And yes, when they enter your home, greet! Don’t ever forget to do that, you have to say, “Vaango, vaango” or perhaps “Aayeeye aayeeye”, even if you are actually thinking about that sweet time when they’ll be gone. Goodies... Like what they bring for you. Perhaps they actually picked it up from that rotten sale that was up to clear out stocks,

A little girl searched the water For reflections her own All she saw were mindless ripples Out of proportion blown. She knew she wasn't them She looked and looked in hope Who was that in the distance That cried all alone? She looked up to see herself Helpless and weeping She went over to herself For comfort and soothing. A bird flew from up above She looked, she smiled But, who was it who saw the bird The weeper, the soother, or the mind? The ripples now shone In the moonlight Into heaven She stepped her first flight.

A little boy, I saw at the supermarket. He held a bottle of ketchup in hand. Absolute excitement, haste, mindlessness. He ran towards the basket that his father held. He dropped the ketchup bottle, seemingly into it. In reality though, the bottle hit the floor, splintered into little parts, red ketchup against the new marble tiles. Perfect stillness followed. The father frowned a loud frown. The little boy was fighting tears, and pleading not guilty. My dad went over, and told the boy it was ok. He shook himself off, and went away to the other side, where he could see no one, hear no one. The cleaner swiped the floor clean.

Earthen pot held at her waist She walked like she'd got no haste Water spilling here and there In musical rhythm danced her hair. Through the many fields she passed Smiling at the green grass The wind blew her veil off And rung her anklets to make them talk. Her lips parted and vented a sigh And she said to herself, what a lie To wear a veil, and see the haze With the wind blowing it off her face. And she sang with the wind Without the veil this time Her anklets clanked louder in sync Without reason, without rhyme.

From the time I was a child, it has somehow been embedded in me, that Truth is the Way. Now, whatever that means. I recall questioning my mom, asking if it was really so wrong to lie and all. My mom would always wear this wise look on her face and tell me that it was ok to lie if it was to do some good. And then she would narrate her favorite example. "If you see a man running after another, with a sword in his hand, and thirst for blood in his heart, he comes over and asks you which direction the guy went, it is ok to mislead him. This way you save a life, which is noble." Hmm, that was enough to convince me then. Now, I wonder. Perhaps I would have saved a life alright. But there could have been more to it, right? "The next day, the newspapers talk about a murderer who jumped the jail, and how a brave officer followed him with a sword in hand. Due to the misguiding public, the murderer fleed." Like the albatross, who made the breeze to blow, or perhaps, brought th