Friday, November 27, 2009

Another day in his life

" What do you want me to write ? " her voice is almost a whisper, but he senses the controlled aggression .

He laughs a bit and pats her hand. "Anything you like, you want, your happy memories, anything you remember.." He gives her a kindly smile, but she cuts him , her voice now rising a bit ."Is this your patronising best? " she glares at him fixing her eyes right into his.

He coughs and turns his head away and tries to smile again, but she retorts as if reading his mind, " Scared arent you, that I might.." He takes a deep breath. The tension between them passes in a moment that can be felt only in the rhythmic beating of the hearts .

"What do you want me to write ?" Her voice becomes a whisper again and she covers her face with her hands.." My most vulnerable moments, my angry days, my depressed thoughts, my violent moods, my lonely pain,my weakest think I deserve all this ?"she looks almost pleadingly at him, looking for a bit of sympathy.

"No, he replies a bit coldly, rather detached.." Your life is not unique..dont come here looking for pity , now write..

She walks away a few minutes later with the blank paper in hand as he wipes the sweat off his brow, and presses the bell. Another crazy day , thought the psychiatrist as the next patient walks in .

Friday, November 13, 2009

The Pandora Box

She leaned against the window and shut her eyes tight.The present seemed to ebb into the past. Time, she told herself is an illusion.The night lay threadbare as she unlocked her mind.

The images blurred. But she heard those words .They spoke to her in a different voice. The monotone of the fingers tapping the keyboard, the murmurs, the laughter..they all merged .

It had rained a bit. They told each other stories the entire night.Dont go,he had said then.The rains formed a pattern on the glass . She retraced her steps back in her mind.

The pitter patter dogged her as she let the sound of rains drown those voices but the murmurs grew. They merged with the words that emerged now in front of her. Were they just words, or were they emotions?"Leave," he had said then. He had the last word always.

She reached out to herself. The words stirred in her dead mind. A long lost emotion frozen somewhere in the depths ..She was lost in a timewarp. Time she told herself is not a healer.

She had flung them in the recesses of her mind, as they became fossils. But no body told her that fossils will not disappear. He brought them afore again. The words had a different meaning, but they chased her. The Pandora box had just been opened. Memories flew out. With them came the dead embers of her mind. But the wounds were still fresh.She couldnt feel the pain though.

The rains fogged the window. She stood there still for a very long time, listening to the pitter patter, long after the rain had stopped.

Monday, November 2, 2009


I met a college friend yesterday after a gap of nearly 12 years and we created quite a riot.Needless to say, we cracked up over men and matters, women and their foibles and people who had walked in and out of our lives. We spent some time remembering "our aunty" who took care of us, even though we were just PGs ..and we wondered how we managed to retain our sanity in that mad world called media , in a chaotic city called Bombay, which was then home to us;we were the homeless, trying to seek a career and an identity.. For many years, after I left Bombay, I always felt that I carried a part of it in me and I often attribute the city for moulding me and giving me a sense of confidence and individuality..anyways thats for another post..

Coming back to yesterday's evening, we drifted into a blissful past where responsibility just meant to keep our heads above trouble, learning a bit about our careers and people who shaped our careers and to maintain a simple lifestyle with a measly salary . Yet, we were fiercely independent, keen on charting our own destinys and yet learning to enjoy life and its moments..We were a bit naive, says my friend . Not like today's generation, I agree, even though they are probably a decade or more younger than us. And yet, I believe that in our innocence, was our maturity..we were not so insecure, not yet bitten by peer pressure, no wannabe lifestyles for us, no uncalled for attitude . Silent and determind, mad in our own way,we were probably learning to balance a career with independence.We were at the age where we were learning to differentiate between boyfriends and friends who were boys, understanding that flings are not relationships and we were quick to pick up the pieces and move on... We didnt fall by the wayside, yet were grounded enough to realize that ambition was made of sterner stuff and we lived our life according to our terms

The evening passed and with it, a montage of life during the last decade. A decade that was probably a lifetime to us. The vignettes from our past took us on a heady journey where we were on a high and yet not drunk. We were sailing, flying and buzzing past life and yet, when the evening ended, life came back to a standstill. A full stop in many ways. And thats why I say nostalgia is a dangerous thing. It takes you to a real world, a world that features you and yet, a world that you will probably never see again . It hurts even more if its a happier world. It is illusionary, yet not an illusion but it creates a void. Nostalgia chases you all the time..If its a happy memory, we cling to it and are unable to let go. If its sad, well, you dont even want to think about it, even if nostalgia catches up with you . It sends you into a fool's paradise and then takes you down teary lanes and makes you wake up to emptiness.Ultimately it leads you nowhere..