Monday, August 25, 2008


She felt sick, ill, nauseated and miserable. Perfect, goes with the mood, she thought.
One of those migraine like headaches. Didn’t know what caused them. Too much of sun, lack of a cup of tea in the morning, or disturbing thoughts. Today was a mix of all of them, so the headache was pretty inevitable. Not an issue, but she wanted to avoid the way she felt then . She had hurriedly returned to her room in the evening after the classes, and made her fav flavoured tulsi and ginger chai. What a soothing sensation. But the ache had already started spreading and the treat did little to shoo it away. So that means she couldn’t delve into movies or tv shows that would help her stay sane cuz tht woud strain her eyes, forget about trying to read a book.

The evening remided her of a recent summer evening, when too much of heat had done the same to her, drained her of all energy and successfully got her bed-ridden. How she had mumbled incoherently about the sun outside when it was evening and her friend assured her on phone everything was alright and that she could go to sleep.

And today, she tucked herself into the bed, saw her roomie enter. She had requested her to give her a 10-min head massage which she so direly needed. She hated asking for favours. She wondered, how her mom or sister wouldn’t like anyone to come near them when they had a headache. She so unlike them always looked for the touch therapy:) Her roommate forgot about the massage altogether, poor thing, not her fault, she has been too engrossed in one of her projects, that’s what a professional course does to you.
She craved for some one like her mother, her best friend Anita or …
She could always act unabashedly around Anita who would always sense she was ill and sweetly ask her if she needed a head massage or her food into the room or wanted the lights off and some silence!
Some faded images of her childhood filled her senses too. Whenever she fell ill, her father would make her lie on the bed with her head on the edge, take a bucket full of water and let some water run through her head for some time. She with her eyes shut like a baby would forget all about the pain letting the water drip down her hair like a cool pleasant cascade. Funny, but she somehow couldn’t help the memories. Seems like succha distant thing now. Those unique methods that only the elderly know of. And now…she often wondered, suddenly the so powerful ever youthful elderly ones had begun to grow old. They all only speak of anecdotes that surround their children’s lives, how they have grown, their achievements , marriage , their kids. With such ease they slip into the world of their kids away from individualistic seeks , dedicating all of their life…for the little ones.
But she still found her father so handsome and young , her mom still the most beautiful.
She popped in a paracetamol, played with her teddy, coaxing herself to sleep, delving into some of those fine fond memories…

Sunday, August 24, 2008


Whatz my fault if certain things don't find their right places in my life
Am I doing this intentionally? You may at your sweet ease attach tags like mean, irresponsible, shouldn't-do, cuz you can afford do. If I could afford I wouldn't have cared a damn too. Whatz my fault if I can't ..whatz my fault if there are things that I know are should be some way but they JUST ARE NOT.
What do I do if the darkness actually engulfs me...
What do I do if some songs remind me of things I shouldn't.
What else do I do but to accept it as a part of my destiny to be victim to all that's happening to me
What do I do if I don't want to be like others want me to be
If I want my time by myself when the whole world out there is celebrating, and yet if I feel the pangs
What do I do if I can;t find solutions after seeking them and trying them out seems like widening horizons of confusions
If even after desperately trying to tie and untie few knots they cease to listen to me and refuse to get the bloody hell away from my way
What do I do when I feel angry like this
and I don't know what to do with all these anger
What else but to talk of detachment.