Touched...

There are often times when fellow human beings fail us, while animals make our day. Why do we consider the word "animal" referred to a human as a rude adjective? What does animal-like behavior mean? Have we ever given it a thought that calling animals "human" could be a rude adjective used for them?

There have been days when nothing seemed to fall in place, nothing seemed quite right, no one could cheer me up...but there has been a special friend in my life who has helped me cheer up, helped me get back on my feet, helped me be normal. A friend, who never expects anything else from me, other than a little show of affection. My friend, my pet, my love, my brother, my dog!

I still remember the day when i was home sick to the core, silent tears escaping my eyes, i felt like running away. There was no one who could change my mood, except for the surprising mood lifting quality of my great friend, my dog. He came running to me, where I sat, and after a while of nudging and dancing with excitement, sat by my side, as quietly and patiently as I had required him to be. I sat and sat, and said nothing at all, and him? Well, he just accompanied me silently, hearing my thoughts and comforting me with sudden licks on my hand.

He was the first living being who had spent more than two hours at a stretch, quietly, without asking any questions, just silently listening to my depressive thoughts. And the day I was leaving for home, it was his turn to cry. Cannot forget the way he got excited and restless at the same time. He pulled my bag, kept blocking my way so that i could not walk forward, and fell to the floor on my feet so that i could stay there with him, touch him, show my affections. Had any human made me feel this loved? Hardly ever.

I have found a true friend,
I dread the day when I'd have to leave him, and dread more, the day HE leaves me... I truly hope that the former happens before the latter.
Such unspoken love, and attachment...I am indeed, TOUCHED, for life.

Too soon to tell...

It’s a grotesque life.
How can I not be grouchy all the time? There are several reasons. They maybe proper, or just vaguely grim. But all I can be is ‘grumpy’.

And I can’t even help it. Cause every time I try to cheer up my mind, life just snaps back and says,”hold! There’s a place for these earthly material happiness. And you’re just a misfit! Trying to glide into the world of normals ain’t your cup of tea”.

So what do I do now? Should I just slip out like a speck of air? Or should I let life take my trip for the entire being of life? A life which has no meaning; a life which has no strength; a life so basely vague; a life, not worth being on the dance floor of life and , well, breaking a leg!

What do we want out of life? What do we really get? Why do a few mistakes make someone so despicable that it’s beyond others to forget? Is a little mistake so big a crime, that without thinking twice, they just abandon a person, and wish for them to die? Is it life who’s cruel? Or is it just us? Is it our way of thinking? Or is it just a passing phase? What is it? What could it be? Our entire life goes on, just looking for these unanswered questions. And by the time we realize that our questions will remain unanswered, it’s too late. We watch from another world, our bodies being taken away.

What do I do? How do I survive? When will our prayers be answered? Is there anyone listening? For real? I guess, that’s another question, which will forever be unanswered. But I will fight on. Try to fit in. Make my place amongst the other misfits. And I have faith. I will be content some day.

Too soon to tell, but too much faith to hang on...

An evening by your side...

Sitting by the balcony, with my head on your shoulder,
I'd sit and smile, and with you I'd wonder...
I wouldn't talk about a single worry,
wouldn't drop a single tear,
with you, I'd have nothing to fear.

I'd silently feel the cool breeze blowing in my face,
tossing and turning, making my hair unkempt.

Life would seem much more simpler than ever;
I'd know that there would always be a shoulder I could lean on to,
go back and forth, to our past and our future..

Maybe after a while when we were tired of our silent conversation,
we'd talk about the past and share a hearty laugh...
How we acted when we were young,
how we flew balloons in the sky,
how just a single bottle of Cola sufficed our thirst,
how we discussed those several ways to fly high!


"The days that are gone, could never come back", they say,
but we'll prove them wrong!
Once again we'd buy balloons,
once again we'd have a mid-night snack,
once again we'd empty our pockets to catch the early morning show.
Once again it would be "Us",
the two individuals, we could never let go.

Sitting by the balcony,
resting my head on your shoulder;
"could we ever change?"
Together we'd wonder.

The longest Journey is the Way Back Home

The very thought of going back home to your family does wonders!
My heart and my mind are dancing with joy...
Familiar grounds, familiar people, familiar town, familiar smiles,
My hometown, My Calcutta, My City of Joy...

Here I come.

120 days without you, Oh! How tough it's been...
I cannot believe how the tiniest things have been mattering to me.
The smell of home, the streets filled with lights,
little kids running around, what a delight!
Little groups of teenagers, hanging out for 'chai',
the older generation, taking walks around Maddox square.

The rustling sound of trams, and the honking cars...
'Maruti', the universal name for all four-wheeled automobiles.
Victoria romances and Nicco Park adventure,
South City's cram jam and endless days of wonder.

When will I be home again?
Why is the journey back home so long?
When will I get to see them,
See my wonderful days that passed by like thunder?

Every time i think of the plane hitting the ground, my heart skips a beat,
I cannot help but wonder, how have my folks been?
Time doesn't seem to pass by quick,
I wait and wait, and I get no sleep,
Sleepless night awaits, but I am in a dream.
A dream where I am already home,
Sitting by my Mom... Sitting and waiting for her to look at me,
for her to turn around.
It is a pleasant dream, which often turns to nightmare...
when will I be home? When will my mother turn around?
My heart seeks again and again for the warmth of a joyous abode.

Max Mueller Phuchka wala, neighbour wali aunty,
thousands of secrets to share with my bestest friend,
home-cooked food, television to no end...
Waiting to be back home, just sitting and waiting for the night to end.
What will I do when i step inside the door?
How will I react when I see my family?
Will my eyes weep with tears of joy?
Or will they witness something more divine?

Time seems to have siezed, as if my life was themed with Carpe-diem,
I can't wait any more to be home,
I can't wait longer to get back all the love, care, and the happiness syndrome.

It's true, the longest journey, is the way back home.

Raindrops on my Fingertips!

Excited as I was, when i came out of the candy shop,

i hopped on to the metro.

Had music plugged into my ears,

i couldn't hear a thing of the surrounding.

I was lost in my world,

all I could think of was, I, Myself and Me.

It was time to get back home

I got off the train and stepped outside.

What did I see?

It was pouring down heavily!

My heart jumped with joy,

I did a somersault in my mind...

I put my hand out to feel the chilly raindrops,

Not being able to stop myself,

I ran out!

Hands spread out,

head held high,

I could feel the water drops on my face.

Cutting the wind sharply,

rain pouring over me.

Childhood is not a phase,

I thought to myself.

Childhood remains forever within,

peeping out once in a while,

helping us reminisce the days that have gone by.

Raindrops on my fingertips,

chilly water drops on my face.

I'll never forget these wonderful days,

the days I go back to my childish past!