Idiot Box…

I love Idiot Box… Or… Do I say I do not exactly love idiot box???

Television is a bundle of all my fantasies come true. It allows my imagination no more to bloom and makes my senses point towards a single direction where my eyes go wide and inanimate like a zombie and my ears care not to listen to anything.

And the struggle within my own rebellious head… I mean… the perpetual war between conscious and subconscious mind would result in a side effects that make my motor control go havoc. I mean my fingers would hit remote and my eyes roll like an infant at a rattle that’s hung above his crib. And my ears try harder to digest the pandemonium passing by and try to pick pleasant aural morsels. Then my brain tries juggle between visual spectacles and auditory attractions.

Man… it’s a mess. I love the guy who invented TV but I hate the guy who invented remote controller. I do not know how many calories I could burn by pressing remote control buttons per hour. In good old days when channels were less and that antique looking idiot box used to have an electromechanical tuner… I used to flex my baby muscles and clamp my teeth in determined snarl as I try rotating the knob that refused to oblige my efforts. Then… Grrrr…. I stiffen my 6 inch biceps and felt like a winner as it made… Tttthhhuuupppp Sound… It meant that the channel now is changed. Then the next exercise is even more challenging. To tune the channel I need to rotate the ring either clock wise or anti clock wise. The images used to look funny… some times grainy some times as if a cement truck hit their faces and they are still alive and talking.

And that time we used to have only one government operated channel that promptly used start by 1800 hours and end by 2300 hours. It was nothing lesser than the long wait to witness god’s arrival. And those rich people in the street who used to have TV sets in their home area generous people as well. They allowed the street mob to barge in their home and feel so content about the social obligations they supposed to observe and honor. And we little kids used to gape at the tube as it made a static noise Ttttuuuuyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy…. And then the signal pattern used to come in color bars. I was not aware till a few years… till the color TV came in circulation that… the color bars are… colorful. On monochrome tube they looked so fascinating as it inspired my anticipatory zeal in witnessing TV programs within next few minutes.

Some times I used to doze before TV and the host shook me awake and asked me to go home. And dad look at me like an over sized chameleon with protruding eyes mutely interrogating the reason for my long absence at home. I was too shrewd not to tell him that I have been watching TV at neighbors place but I used to tell him that neighbor uncle wanted me to be with them for a while. Dad then used to scratch his head in uncertainty to choose between his budding sadism to hit me or nascent appreciation about my mannerisms in impressing our neighbor.

Then dad bought a new TV. Today when I look at it… it looks like a relic from Indiana Zones movie in which Lord Jesus Christ might have hidden is wine glass. And in my preteen pride I fought with dad one time because he was not allowing me to watch TV at late night. I told him I will never watch his TV again. And I kept my promise till dad was not around home. I used to run between street door and back to TV… vice versa to finely balance my esteem and my greed. When I used to detect dad coming from far end of the street I used to run back to TV to switch it off. It used to take its own sweet time and I used to tear my hair till the tell tale signs of live TV extinguished.

Then came TV channels. I used to boast my knowledge before my less ignorant friends that there is something known as MTV in America that plays songs 24 hours a day. They used to open their mouths in unison in which even I too was an honored participant. Twenteeeee foouuurrrrr hours of music. Wow … wow… wow… I told my friends that one day I will go to America to watch MTV. And yikes… so called globalization shattered my dreams. Within a few years MTV came to India. I did watched MTV like a zombie for a few days and then got irritated. This is costing too much of my attention where I started ignoring the incessant warnings from my pressure filled crouch.

Then came hundreds of channels littered with loads of advertisements and serials made by a social terrorist (Now don’t ask me who that terrorist is… My Indian friends… if they are males or enlightened females would identify her in nano seconds) I started wondering if I must continue to love what I used to love since my childhood.

Today I prefer watching news channels, science channels, movie channels and cartoon channels. This mania of running a twenty four hour show by every channels getting on my nerves as Indian news channels started picking every Tom Dick and Harry kind of news. And they give on spot evaluations and analysis in which you will understand everything and nothing in unparalleled precision. Opps.. if I keep on watching them I could develop eloquence in communication that makes one satiated about the answer he got from me and at the same time he understands not what he got. I love to speak like a politician.

And cartoon network used to my favorite with Tom and Jerry, Fred Flintstones, Donald Duck, Jeff and Mutt, Laugholumpics, Adventures of Johnny Quest and Grafield. (Hey guys.. Let me tell you something. My cousin Deepa calls me Garfield when ever I go there home. Cause I do only three things... Eat, Sleep and wacth TV). And today it’s miserable to watch a crooked combination of western toon characters speaking Indian dialects. Forget it…

Now remains movie channels and science channels.

I love HBO, Star Movies, World Movies, Hallmark, Zee MGM, Sony Pix Channels in movies and Discovery, National geographic and History Channel.

I dream of having a big TV of my own where in I shall be the master of the destiny of my remote controller. But I also am scared that I will lose my sleep and interest in my first love… that’s reading books.

Such a critical paradox… What do I do friends?????

Holi…

This blog is not for my Indian friends. Holi is a great Indian festival that comes on the month of March. And this year it precisely comes on today or tomorrow (I mean 21st or 22nd March 2008) depending on the region within India.

It’s the most colorful festival I started distancing myself from. Younger days were so exciting in celebrating this festival for anything could be forgiven on this day. People come on streets to pour colors on each other. Offer sweets and on the peak side drink some narcotic laced drink called Bhang.

That’s the only part I missed in my whole life. I mean I never drank Bhang so far. I heard weird tales about people losing their control over their tongues and limbs. I am not even curious about trying it.

One day before this festival there will be huge bonfires. Sometimes we used to collect anything that’s combustible from homes and some times we literally used to steal things from home to burn things. Then we used to make a huge bonfire and made some kind of ritual Zulu dance around it. We used to rebuke and mouth unspeakable expletives towards the people who donated that fire wood. I am not sure how this aspect of faith entered but it is believed that what ever expletives directed at a person would actually go hit his misfortunes rather than hit him. People just used to smile listening at our diatribe. And we used to utilize this golden opportunity to vomit our suppressed sadism and hatred over someone we liked not.

Then the next day is too exciting. I used to get up early in the morning armed with my ammunition of colors and my water bottle. I used to run to the nearest friend’s home and knock door. Some times I used to face boorish eyed father of my friend and some times my own friend with his won ammunition. We used to dunk each other with colors and then team up to run towards other friend’s home. And slowly we used to swell in groups. It’s the only day where everyone used to rock their heads in locating and destroying victims.

The best part of this festival is that enemies are supposed to become friends. And the saddest part is in the guise of colors and obvious pandemonium people some times carried out their retributions too. Sadism some times went beyond limits and people use to make use of anything that’s harmful to skin. Items like oil grease and even gutter water… They even explode raw eggs on head or crouches… Yikes…

And in Mumbai they throw balloons filled with water from buildings on pedestrians and people who travel on trains. There were many incidents where people lost their eyes top the sadistic pleasure of these hooligans.

I started hating Holi.

It’s been decades that I played Holi. I just lock myself in a room and allow not anyone to touch me…

But if one enjoys with true spirit of Holi… It’s the joyous festival….

Happy Holi to all of you… My friends

Skirmish with Loved One…

I often wondered about this wonderfully inevitable act in relation. Fighting with loved one is a refreshing experience in not only ventilating my ego but to cleanse my soul as well.

I have been a renegade idealist who some times allows not practicality or reality. And my own idealism some times pushes me towards evil intent that is tainted with my undetected ego. I suddenly feel that my good nature and devotion is taken for granted. I oscillate between pride and prejudice. Many times I feel an out right confrontation is better than sulking in silence. But I also watch my own lunacy creeping decisively in to my sense of justice.

I hurt my loved one when I get hurt. I am not sure if I must justify my actions in a similar way a cornered cat justifies its violence. It’s no reason for me to hurt my loved one. It’s a frequent observation on hind sight that I am arrogantly foolish to dispense their confidence in me in matters that are close to their heart. And I do it with a fallacy that if I am confident about sharing some information with my peers over which I must be proud, I prefer not to check them with my loved ones if they feel comfortable about that fact being propagated.

Ohh god… it’s a mess afterwards. They scream like a wounded tigers… or rather tigresses and rip me in to shreds not with their fury but with their disbelief that I could do this to them. I go numb within moments and try defending myself with words lame. Some times they passively accept the pain I inflicted on them as I beg them forgiveness. Some times their hyper reaction triggers my own diatribe in raking up events in which I was equally exploited.

I beg your pardon. I do not believe in shielding my ego with their mistakes and their regrets. But I feel so asphyxiated because I seek no outlet as stress mounts on me in directly equal proportions. I do get hurt profoundly… not because they are screaming at me but because I see my own moronic self as how could I do that to them.

Its not just they attack me but my own consensus attacks me in parallel. Its like my own head directed its hatred against me and my own heart… that’s my loved one… is tearing me apart with her pain.

I am still naive in so many perceptions that are socially related. I still feel that world is as beautiful as Garden of Eden what god created for Adam and Eve. I still think not of satanic snakes that exist in this world the way they existed during their times. Satanic thought and satanic influences pervade our heads, hearts and souls at every possible moment in which we need to enshrine faith and its strength.

It’s a pleasant observation that my angels never held any grudges over my irresponsibility afterwards. But I suffer the traces of my own bleeding and not dead yet ego. Then I shrug and smile at myself. They too smile at me and tell me that I am incorrigible.

In the moments of repentance I always remember all bruises I inflicted on my loved ones. I believe not in haven and hell after death. I would rather die peaceful knowing that my heavenly moments are those that I spent with my loved one with light hearted laughter and love filled conversation… and hellish when I make them cry.

And my ego wears off too soon. I am not shamed to fall on my knees and beg for forgiveness. For I know I made not a condonable error and they always realign their disturbed emotion back to order and forgive me.

Another greatest thing is that they love me even more after they forgive me.

Silence prevails a few minutes. Then a mute word and a sweet smile. Afterwards a serene and short conversation. The eyes lowered and apologies mutual. Then apparent accusations of self for being so insensitive. Then wipe pain and tears. Then love squandering unabated…

Ohh its wonderful to be forgiven and loved… but I need to fight fist… to be blessed with this pleasure….

Love unrequited…

She was lowered in grave
Casket sealed… Bouquets lain
The last mourner left
Last tear shed

Silence grotesque
Returned victorious
I watched her over hanging a tree
I am a flower born in wilderness

Dripped in dew
I wept in mute
Sway in silence
I scream her name

Stretching my arms
Snapping my roots
I’ve fallen on her grave
And swept away by janitor

Sleep…

Sleep is a yummy thing for me. But I am not lazy. My objective is to sleep sound and wakeup fresh. Given an opportunity I would like to sleep extra. I can be awake at late hours but can not get up early if it’s a holiday.

Back in those glory days of childhood dad or mom used to shake me awake. Most irritatingly they even never let me sleep on Sundays too. But then I never complained because Sundays in the early hours there used to be my most favorite HE-MAN show on TV

The worst phase in my life was in one of my previous employments. I worked in night shifts for two straight years. It made my looks converted in to nocturnal. I heeded not the warnings of people around as I felt so good at night working plagued with no day related problems. By the time I realized I gambled with my health I started looking like a walking cadaver.

Then there was a brief respite of nothing ness. It was utter vacuum. I resigned my job just liek that and I slept as if I was mummified. I used to get up drowsy and again longed to sleep. It ran for a few weeks and ultimately I felt disgusted with my own self. I wanted to change the entire background. I just left my place and traveled long to this place where I am now.

For the first two years I worked in a factory and used to live in the same premise. Sleep was a torture there as twenty mechanical and hydraulic presses relentlessly worked round the clock creating an incessant miniature earthquake. But after a while my body realized the futility of reacting to unfavorable conditions and instead merged itself neatly in to what’s available. I used to sleep on a wooden plank. Actually a door… that removed from door frame.

I hate anything soft beneath me. I can never ever get sleep if I were to sleep on a mattress. For some reason this started since childhood. I don’t even use a bed sheet. I just sleep on a straw mat and drift leisurely in to the abyss of sleep. If its cold or if my pleasure is invaded by mosquitoes, I use a bed sheet otherwise I sleep just like that. It makes me feel that I am in sync with nature. And I am sure I can sleep anywhere with no compunctions.

I love winters. They are too comfortable as I snuggle in bed sheets. But again I observed something. I never protect myself from cold completely. I mean… while I cover myself in thick blankets, the insulation between me and the floor is just a thin straw mat that unabatedly passes the cold. While my spine shivers, my chest is lulled to sleep in warmth. It’s a funny feeling… some times it’s a masochistic feeling too.

I realized something with my sleep postures. When I was young I used to sleep on my tummy and later realized that it is bad. My own weight used to constrict the expansion of lungs and breathing used to go erratic. And insufficient oxygen intake used to affect brain and I used to feel numb.

Now I sleep like… how do I put it?? Yes… I sleep like Leonardo Da Vinci’s “Vitruvian Man” Try this out. It really works. And stretch your four limbs as much as you can in the direction they are pointing at. And suddenly go slack as if the stings of a puppet were snapped off. Inhale deeply and exhale slowly

This method relaxes the body very much and I drift in to sleep like a baby.

And I am not that intense in my sleep too. My senses are coiled like a rattle snake. Any tiny sound how ever insignificant it is... if it fits not the ambience of my surroundings. Some times I suddenly open my eyes in complete awareness…blink and turn to scan my room. Sharpen my ears to listen further. Once I feel I can go back to sleep… I go back to sleep almost immediately.

And after joining this job I started sleeping for almost 16 hours minimum on Sundays. While I was at PG… that’s paying guest accommodation… there used to be some noise because of my other room mates. Now I rented my own room and I am the kind of my own drowsiness.

I do not know what to say about dreams. Either my sleep is dream less or filled with dreams that are totally disconnected. For some reason majority of my dreams are horror dreams. I am not sure if I need some psychiatric assistance, but one out of dreams and sleep, I feel not inadequate in anyway.

And I love sleep for another reason. It is the only relaxant to me when I suffer migraine. I have been suffering from margarine since childhood and nothing worked for me. The only thing that cured my excruciating pain is sleep. I will push myself deep in to darkness and silence. Sleep is wonderfully soothing and relaxing

My Teachers... My Learning’s…

My dad taught me to not to waste anything. Not let a single grain of food fall off my plate. Not to keep electrical appliances when not in use. Not to waste water by not shutting down tap.

My mom thought me respect and love towards women

My mom’s sister taught me the power of self abnegating love

My mom’s another sister taught me cleanliness in kitchen while making what ever mess you try creating

My own sisters Anitha and Radha taught me the power of sisterly love. They love me so dearly despite my arrogance and ignorance towards them.

My brother Sreedhar taught me the power of taking care of parents in their old age. He is the true son they have prayed god for… and sought as a blessing.

My maternal uncle Mr. Rao taught me the power of silence and seriousness. He also made me learn how to save time in the morning brushing teeth simultaneously at loo

His daughter Fruity taught me the power of small gifts. She gave me five stones and two big leaves as gift about 5 years ago

My uncle Ratnam taught me to smile most of the time

My aunt Sakkubai taught me obstinacy and pride. The same pride and obstinacy is working between us and we talk not to each other anymore. We faught bitterly. But I aplogized later. As a teacher she refused to yield. And I learnt my lesson not to talk to her ever again. I am obstinate, stubborn and proud.... Though I miss her badly....

My love… Little Rupa taught me the eventuality that innocence could not remain innocent. One has to move ahead forgetting all the good times we spent in childhood as we head towards adulthood. She loves me not the way she used to love me when she was a child. She is not a child anymore

My cousin Shilpa taught me to isolate two people who love them dearly and yet fight with each other. She never talks to me of her boy friend when we are together whom I hate to the core

My elder brother Veeru… taught me to laugh like a manic in an adverse situation and let miseries pass by

My childhood friend Pradeep taught me the power of loyalty in teenage friendship. I know not where he is now. He used to dump English books in to my lap to escape his dad’s wrath. I used to read him and tell him the stories and he used to make his dad happy by telling them back. It’s a three way profit. I leant English, he is saved and his dad was happy.

Another childhood friend... This is another Pradeep taught me being a devoted friend. We used to follow each others like puppy friends. He is so far away from me now and yet try to get in touch with me some times.

Prasad... My childhood buddy taught me to be cunning with everyone else in the world save for the people he took in his heart. he is fiercely loyal to his friends and artfully diplomatic to everyone else. I miss his wonderful conversations. He is now a budding political leader at my native place

My teenage friend Sunil… I do not know where Sunil is… I lost him almost decades ago and trying to find him with all means possible. He is a great guy to be with and the most strong emotionally… amongst all of my friends

My friend Vinny taught me to shave before sleeping so that in the morning my face looks so relaxed with no blade bites on my cheeks and chin. He is the epitome of order and organization in life

My friend Irfaan taught me the power of following heart, how ever ridiculous it guides you in life. We are the most irresponsible pair in the world

My friend Monith taught me the power of making friends happy by treating them with home made food by his lovely wife. Annu… His wife… is a wonderful girl. Her Malai Koftas (Cream Dumplings) are an indisputable gastronomical seduction to anyone who wishes to try. Other than this dish, her every other dish is a glutton’s terror

My friend Sucheta taught me that beauty is nothing but a smile on my face and sparkle in my eyes. She is the extreme rare combination of beauty and brains. I am so surprised pleasantly as I watched her entry in to my life. We talk once in an year or half

My friend Nova taught me the power of absorption… to imbibe pleasures and pains in equal measure. She is the most precious gift life offered me. I hope I shall see her one day in real. She is from Indonesia and I never met her

My friend Raani taught me the power of genuine concern towards the people we love. She always has big eyes and ready made tears for me when she assume that I am about to suffer in my future because of my own ignorance. She is blessed with an angelic daughter… Baby Swara… and gentlemanly husband… Mr. Suryakanth

My friend Jazz taught me the power of perseverance in resisting evil thoughts and retaining poise to lose not affection towards someone who is not evil by nature, but by ignorance. I harass her a lot. Any other person in her place would have murdered me long back. But she is like a guardian angel always at a distance and ready to come running to me when I need her

My friend Amit taught me the power of knowledge and being proactive. His genius is mouth gapingly exceptional and unique

My friend Afreen taught me the simplicity of faith towards friends. She is a god fearing Moslem girl who is so sweet and hardworking

My friend Pankaj taught me to love books like maniac and protect them like a fire breathing dragon. He is the only friend whom I share love hate relationship. The most unpredictable guy and yet so reliable

My fiend Girish taught me the power of explosive laughter that almost rips my lungs out of the rib cage. We used to laugh for no reason at all some times

My friend Jennifer Braur taught me that distance is not at all and impediment for friendship. She lives in Germany and my friend for the past four years. I hope I meet her someday

My friend Ammu taught me not to forget things that were given to someone that needs returning. She is yet to give me my CD’s that were given to her almost two years ago. But be not mistaken… I love her dearly

My friend Nandu taught me the power of anger for a genuine reason and the way to annihilate the same with a giggle. He also thought me the power of helping people in a selfless way. He is the guy who helped me finding a place beneath my feet in this city when I first arrived here

My friend Lubna taught me the power of tolerance of when dealing with two conflicting philosophies. She is a devote Moslem and I am a staunch atheist

That girl at railway station (I do not know who she is... but we catch same morning train…) taught me to look out just for each other… if the other is there before the train comes

My friend Satwika (Laddu) taught me the power of being heroic and brash without losing the poise and sense of self respect. I never met her though she is in the same city. But we talk to each other over phone as if we have been friends for millenniums

My friend Divya taught me to share friendship with other friends. She hesitates never to introduce her other friends to me.

My friend Praveen taught me the power of being a friend in need. He gave me the much needed courage and support when I changed the field in my career

My friend Ramesh taught me the power of not losing anyone how many years pass by. He always keeps in touch with me when ever there is a change in his communication details

My friend Suresh Reddy taught me the reminiscence of college days and our impish deeds and iconoclasm when we were young and foolish.

My friend Ravi taught me the power of being supportive though silence and smiles. He is the one who found me a home when I was at the verge of becoming homeless in this monstrous city

My friend Swathi taught me to help in silence and no questions asked. She is someone I completely relay on in my worst adversities. And she shows no traces of helping me later as if the debt or favor exists not at all. She is the most precious friend to me

My friend Richaa taught me to be ambitious in career that I learnt not at all. I dared not meeting her as she would surely snap my neck with her bare hands. For she has been screaming at me ages to get another job that pays me well. She is so adorable in her anger when she screams at me. That why I seem not to notice her anger even when she screams at highest pitch as possible

My brat genius friend Samrat taught me… Well he taught me nothing except that we fight over issues indefinitely like parallel lane of railway track. I think at the end of your lives we will still remain like that with no definite shape to our future

Kimmy is a sweet girl who with her tiny heart and magnanimous devotion told me that she will look after my every need once she becomes a professional. I long to speak and listen so many silly nothings, but she is always occupied

Sherry is my Pakistani friend who is so versatile and amazingly beautiful. I feel so happy and humble when she tells me that she talks a lot about me to her mother and friends

Dutta was my room mate for a wonderful two years. An intellect with unblinking eye towards realities of life. I would trust his judgment and discretion in matters serious.

My friend Maria Shalom taught me the power of compassion with a streak of devilish possession. She makes me run like a scared rat across the room when she is angry for the right reasons. I pray god to keep her safe as she is not well.

My friend Ishaani taught me what faith could be and how to retain it amid turbulences, anomalies and quakes. I foresee to meet her soon and enjoy the pleasure of being with her in real

My… taught me the power of absolute honesty in love. She never hesitated to break my heart to get it rebuilt stronger than before… rather than watch it crumble and erode me being unaware of its own destruction. I can not give anyone her place in my heart. I would open my eyes wide even at the last moment of my life to see if she comes back to me again… she is the reason why I started this blog. She is the reason why I become a miniature poet.

And... I am yet to learn so many things….

Each Tear…

Each tear
A crown jewel
I preserved behind my ego…

Each favor
I refused to see
Haunted me before I go

The one who took my hands as I stumbled
Little I was… looked up and smiled
Wiped and faded in the winds of time

Caressed my head in their lap
When I was sick and sublime…
I am arrogant now in my own sound sleep

Gave me big sweet in my tiny hand
Not bigger than my eyes wide
I remember not all those tides and times

I die now… so alone…
With each tear passing my cheeks…
Each tear for each angel… who loved me dear

My Doze ez blogged (My nose is blocked)

Yezderday I dunno why I staaded beeling unegy (Yesterday I do not know why I started feeling uneasy). By body go heavy an droth gone zore (My body grew heavy and throat gone sore). By head belt a don over by neg (My had felt a ton over my neck). By body baz not lezz in bain az ib it dumbed outa bashin bachine ( My body was not less in pain as it dumped out of washing machine). I steel beel dad way eban no (I still feel that way even now).

By brend asged be to eat bedizine (MY friend asked me to eat medicine). I rebuzed stnazly (I refused staunchly). By ez dat I’m beeding by body wid chigen, bish beggies an rize?? (Why is that I am feeding my body with chicken, fish, veggies and rice???). By bust I dreat id wid bedizine??? (Why must I treat it with medicines???). Ber haz by idvestmet gone??? (Where has my investment gone???) By body godda bight itz on bar (My body gotta fight its own war).

I’b nod gonna beed id wid medizines. (I am not gonna feed it with medicines). I’b gonna gough an seez if id mages be seez (I ‘m gonna cough and sneez if it gonna makes me sneez). I ave do buch baith in by body (I have so much faith in my body).

Dow U borry not…. (Now you worry not…)

I’b bine (I am fine)…..

Women’s Day

My respectful solute to the indomitable spirit and unparalleled resilience of women. I could not but bow my head in reverence and admiration towards your love and patience.

Happy women’s day to you my angels around the world…

Known and unknown…

The Song That Never Failed To Bring Tears To My Eyes

I wish I were blind

I love to see the cottonwood blossom In the early spring

I love to see the message of love That the bluebird brings

But when I see you walkin' with him Down along the strand

I wish I were blind... When I see you with your man

I love to see your hair shining In the long summer's light

I love to watch the stars fill the sky On a summer night

The music plays you take his hand

I watch how you touch him as you start to dance

And I wish I were blind... When I see you with your man

We struggle here but all our love's in vain

And these eyes that once filled me with your beauty

Now fill me with pain

And the light that once entered here

Is banished from me

And this darkness is all baby that my heart sees

And though the world is filled

With the grace and beauty of God's hand

Oh I wish I were blind.... When I see you with your man

Copyright © Bruce Springsteen (ASCAP)

Tomato

Tomato is my best friend. I love tomato very much. She is a human resource professional and looks as lovely and as fresh as a tomato. We talk very sparingly and meet even more sparingly as live apart a few towns and villages. What makes her endearing is both her explosive laughter and volcanic anger

Tomato really looks like tomato. She is chubby with tomato red cheeks. She is gleaming and sun ripe. She sweats harder when it comes to her career and looks like tomato sprinkled with autumn dew . She wishes to migrate to a cooler western country to keep her tomato like texture intact.

I met tomato when she looked like a tomato but was not red like a tomato. She was not exactly like a pumpkin either. She was orange greenish at that time. Freshly out of grad school and with high hopes in her big eyes. And we know not each other in real till that point of time except through internet chat. She was impatient in her eagerness to detect me in the early morning crowd of Mumbai train station. I was too cunning to carry two steaming coffee cups and paid not any attention towards her as I was passing by. She dismissed me within a nano second.

I abruptly turned towards her then just when I was inches away from her and told her a cup of hot coffee would bring tomatoes in her cheeks. She gave a bright smile as two tomatoes appeared on her cheek. We were like two embarrassed teenagers who have been dating for the first time. But then we were neither teenagers nor dating. I was there to keep her company as she was about to catch train back home.

Tomato is a lovely girl. She is quick to love and quicker to slide in to a silent and sullen mood. She is unstoppable if she thinks she is not to be stopped. And she pouts her lips in tomato look a like disapproval when she feels vindicated.

And she is the 2nd girl who hugged me in my adult life with no reservation. When she returned back from home that’s so far away I was there to pick her again… she hugged me tight. I went dumb and numb because I am not used to hugs and kisses and public display of affection. More to the point I was not anticipating such level of trust and intimacy. I did not even return her hug for a second or two and then I merely encircled my hand around her back in a spontaneous responce.

She chirped like a sparrow all the way to bus stand where she was supposed to catch another bus. We had some good time that was running out faster. I sent her off to her destination.

After this I met tomato a few times. I even went to her place and every times I met her eyes sparkled like glistening tomato seeds. Her lips curled in to sweet smile that’s no lesser appealing than a bright red tomato. Tomato is so proud to present me to her beloved mom and dad. They are nice couple who love their children in the same way they loved their children’s friends. I really had had a very good time with them that’s not just a mutual exchange of diplomatic pleasantries but a heart to heart communication in which I need not masquerade my acid demeanor with fake decency. They made me feel I found another family in which I could seek shelter with equal authority.

Tomato some times suffers in silence if she chooses to. I was some times rude to her in enforcing my opinion and make her draw within her protective shell. By the time I detect this she is shriveled like tomato. I mean no harm to her perhaps I should have realized that tenderness is never to be taken for granted not knowing how hard we are becoming in our tenderness.

Tomato some times terrifies me with her unpredictable acts when we eat. She picks at a morsel of something, taste it like a bird and then dump the whole dish in to my plate. Now doubt I am a defender of food, respect food and took owe never to waste food. But it gives me conniptions and blows my nerves to see food doubled in my plate.

Tomato is adorably forgetful. It takes no effort less than to tear my own hair in mock frustration to make her see that she must not forget. But she ends up forgetting that I would tear my hair if she forgets.

I feel sad thinking of the day tomato goes away towards her destiny. I know every tomato is distained to become a sauce on some fat pizza base. And decorate that pizza base with happy cheese, hot pepperoni, veggie like giggles, and chicken like children. All of them get baked in life’s oven to emit delicious aroma and nutritious contribution to the world around.

I am so fortunate to have tomato in my heart. She might guillotine me if at all she comes to know that I wrote about her in my blog. But I have my own survival tricks to metamorphose her nose flaring anger in to lip twisting smile.

Hey guys… Don’t tell Tomato that… I love Tomato a lot…

Hope

Megs asked me to write something on hope. I hope… I understand hope adequate enough to write something… that hopefully sounds better.

Hope is the most inspiring force that’s so subliminal in our lives. It need not be anticipation that is a calculated future of facts materialized already. Hope is the most potent force that sometimes makes you refuse that you are foolishly opening your eyes wider to an illusive reality.

I hoped so much in life but not with so much of strength in it. I am not a pessimist but somehow it amused me to hope for things and expect miracles especially I am not superstitious about good things and their entry in my life.

But I hoped so much in love.

I though I will never fell in love as I am not that chivalrous. I have been a shy guy earlier and now I became stoic and pensive in matters of love. It took years for me to confess someone that I loved her. It was too much for her to reciprocate as she was not ready for this emotion in her life.

I hoped with my heart throbbing and I pushed away all my so called sense and sensibility. I just wanted my hopes to be rewarded. I was too egoistic in seeking my own success where other person’s heart is involved.

My hopes were bloomed because she thought it’s not nice to hurt me. I was elated and over a period of time she thought it’s not at all nicer to hurt people who loved her more than I loved her.

My hopes those that I preserved in my heart were miserably expelled out of my heart through my eyes. They caressed me in warm affection as they glided past my cheeks and died in streaks. I hoped that the tears I am shedding are an illusion and I hoped again that I shall be granted with hope.

I was given false hope. Like a child fascinated by rainbow that decorated sky above knowing not that it will fade away. I was too unaware that as light comes rainbow goes. I could not see if cold comfort of smile is unique or warm relief of tears is a blessing. I hoped I should have done so many things in life to see myself perennially powerful so that hopes come running to my feet like sycophants.

I see money and power blesses people with what ever things they want and things they don’t want too. I was too naive to assume that love cures every heart ache. Too sure that the sense of belongingness could be a bond that fuses hearts together in perfect harmony.

I was so wrong. The dream world that dissipates when one open there is littered with so many good things people run after. I was and am too complacent in life that after earning to meet my needs all I must look up on is to make my loved one smile. I never know that everything is gauged in productivity and material worth.

But then I am not cynical to proclaim that hope is a hallucination. Hope can drive us towards any goal we may chose to have. Hope is the foundation to faith. Once the sights are fixed and targets are defined hope becomes a lubricant in making people move.

It is only that… some hopes are… hopeless….

Tantrums Of Tooth Brushing…

Dental hygiene is something one must not ignore. I fondly remember so many things that actually decayed my teeth. Please misunderstand not that my teeth would resemble a Middle Eastern nomad. They are nice if at all you chose to ignore after first look.

Today after knowing so much I regret a few things that I could not practice when I was a child. My dad used to enforce brushing up brushing down and brushing deep right brushing deep left. But the brush thing did not really happened till I reached 10 years.

Till then my finger was my brush. We used to use some local made tooth powder that actually a flavored or colored ash that boasted of herbal additives. The thumb rule for us to know if the teeth are sufficiently whitened to listen to squeaky noise that’s music to my ears. Some times we used to be adventurous in trying a black coal piece.

I was really fascinated by the effects of coal piece. I saw a boy teeth gleaming white as he brushed his teeth with his finger crunching coal between his teeth. I am not sure if coal is a good cleanser or its dark color used to make look whiter in contrast. Then I tried the same with impunity and… Yikes… It tasted coal.

Then my granny… not my real granny but neighboring granny told me that one must use a neem twig to brush teeth. Even my father approved it. I dared brushing my teeth next day with it and Buvvvaaaakhhhh…. It tasted yucky and I almost drank a bucket of water and vomited two buckets of water out in bringing sanity to my taste buds. I decided that I shall never ever try exploring the benefits of neem even when its considered the magic herb.

Then came tooth brushes and tooth pastes. My dad is a fan of Colgate tooth paste. It used to taste wonderful with its white color and mint flavor. In the name of brushing teeth I used to slurp half of the tooth paste and noisily burp in contentment. And then Binaca tooth paste attracted me. Because it used to come in light green color and more appealing than the dull while color of Colgate. Apart from that when I open the box I used to get a small toy that’s about an inch in size. And that hit my attention. For the next few years I used to dream of the day my dad used to buy the next Binaca tooth paste tube. I was not shrewd enough to squeeze the tube so that it exhausts sooner and I could get my next toy. I must have collected about 7 such tiny toys till I am bored of them.

Brushing teeth is a torturous ritual in morning. We used to get kicked out of bed and our eyes refused to open. We used to sleep walk towards the tap and most of the time dad used to push brush in to my mouth with a very tiny amount of tooth paste squeezed on to it. I used to get irked when I happen to see advertisements in movies that used to squeeze an impressive amount of toothpaste all the long on brush head. I asked dad about this atrocity and he simply told me that your mouth is not that big to need that kind of huge paste amount. I grumbled with my small mouth.

He used to talk about cavities and gum disease that I could never understand. I some times opened my tiny mouth so wide like a crocodile before mirror to check what dad is trying to say. But my own tiny pearly teeth stared back at me from mirror. I used to shrug my tiny shoulders in irked frustration about dad’s persistence.

And if at all on some lucky day when I find myself alone with no elder beside me I used to brush the teeth…two times right side and two times left side and used to savor the pleasure of peppermint taste unabated and then poured water in my mouth and gurgles in to melodious noise. Some times we used to conduct communal gurgling competition with fellow children and for the reasons so obvious we suddenly blurted in to giggles. Most of the times those giggle with water in our mouths resulted in explosive coughs as water used to enter nasal canal and for the next few minutes we used to cough till our eyes water.

I did not notice anything afterwards when I became so called adult. Till one day my jaw started paining excruciatingly as if someone punched me. To my horror I discovered that I have a cavity. Ohh no… I have been so ignorant of my own dental hygiene. Suddenly I did the same thing which I used to do in my childhood. I opened my mouth wide like a crocodile and inspected my teeth. And oops... I could see two black craters like things at the extreme ends of my lower law tooth line. I closed my eyes tight shut and then opened my eyes again to look deep in to my wide open mouth. Ohh my god… I really have cavities. I don’t know what to do.

I discreetly and furtively asked a few friends what happens when one gets cavities. Very cruelly and with a sadistic smile they said that the dentist would take metallic pliers and pull the tooth out in most merciless way. On and above he would charge money for being a victim of his whims.

I grimaced at the prospect of becoming a subject chained to his torture chamber. I screamed at myself for not being careful when I was a child. I made my furtive enquiries again with optimism that’s heading towards the course of pessimism. A few people said that it could be filled with cement. But that’s not a permanent solution. One day or the other my tooth would be sacrificed before the alter of dentist as I bleed kicking and screaming.

And after an investigation that’s parallel in its secrecy of CIA, KGB, MOSSAD, GESTAPO… I came to know about some medicine that cures gum swelling. I bought that and … Eiiiivvyyyyoooooooooooooo… when I pored that in my mouth I felt as if that fossilized cavity tooth tried to sink deeper in to my gums. That’s was another pain. But after a few applications I could get rid of my tooth pain.

And my own evaluation reviled that two of my teeth have damaged gums. I slapped myself. And took owe never to ignore my teeth again.

I now brush my teeth scrupulously… The way dad insisted when I was a kid. I floss them and I use mouth wash and… I change my tooth brush every six months and pick all the tidbits that go hide between my teeth.

Almost like an innocent guy I some times pray with my eyes closed and open my mouth wide again to see if the cavities have gone away.

Shucks… They are there always…