The dark is so much more lively than light. Things seem so much more colourful.
"So, what do you really have in your palm?"
"Show it to me."
His palm unfolded, and he turned them around. They were quite empty, except for her glowing face. He put her long fingers on his hand and kissed them in the light of the bonfire.
She laughed, "You liar! There was no magic there! It was just a prank."
"But your face is gold as honey, and your fingers are warm. I was sure there was some magic there.. Let me try a little harder."
Her eyes were shining as he softly brushed away his hands from hers. Three yellow buterflies emerged from her hands and played in the white flowers of the grass. Her eyes grew big and she started playing with the butterflies.
"What do you have in your palm?"
He laughed, and pulled away. "But there's no such thing."
As the fire died away, their voices melted into the silence. I couldn't see them anymore, but I could see their outline. They were both emitting a strange light, as one form, as if the light were coming from above and below them, and they were consuming it. The light was a pale blue and a soft orange. The colours blended, and faded to black, with the fire.
There is no such thing as magic. But there's light, and illusion. And there's darkness.
And they, were all three.
The dark is so much more lively than light. Things seem so much more colourful.
I pull my blanket closer around me. There is an Aunty with a mic like in TV talking to Amma. Amma is scolding the TV Aunty. TV Aunty gave me biscuit also.
Anna went out in the morning. He was wearing blue colour shirt. My Anna wears blue shirt only when there is something special. Today I am going out in the train, he told me. I collected nice nice stones for him to throw into the bridge. He said I must go to school. I laughed and told him today is a sunday!
My Anna is big and strong. He can sing all movie songs very well. Appa doesn't like it when Anna sings movie songs. Appa says I must learn singing very well.
Amma made me take oil bath today. She put coconut oil and some black balls and some white things also in the oil. I like oil baths. The oil is warm and amma puts it for me while telling a story. I take oil bath every sunday. When I take an oil bath, I get very sleepy after eating. I ate lots and lots today. Amma made Avial and I like it very much. She puts lots of vegetables in it which I don't like. She mixed the rice and Avial and put one spoon of Neyyi in it. She mixed it with her hands and made it very soft. She told me the story of Abhimanyu and fed me Avial Chaadam.
I want to go out and play now, but Amma is talking to that TV aunty. I can't hear what she is saying. She is talking in english to Aunty. I didn't know Amma can also talk in english. I thought only teacher can talk in english. There is a lot about Amma that I don't know. Anna and I are the only ones who call her Amma. Appa calls her Rajyalakshmi. My teacher calls me T. Anita but Amma, Appa and Anna call me kutty. Isn't that strange?
Amma has finally finished talking to that Aunty. I quickly run to her and and ask her if I can go out and play. She asks me to stop talking and go to my room. She does that only when Appa and Amma want to scream at each other or if I have done something wrong. But Appa is not at home and I have been a good girl all day. The last time I went to my room during playtime was when I ate up all the curd in the kitchen.
After colouring in the colouring book that Perimma bought for me, I decided to go and ask Amma again. when I went to her room, Amma was crying. I didn't know what to do! Ammas don't cry, do they? I went near her and asked her what happened. She put me on her lap and hugged me tight. I told her not to cry. I promised her I'd give her a chocolate of she stopped crying.
But she didn't stop. I sat in her lap and she kept holding me.
Ammamma and Perimma and Mama and Perippa and Chitappa all came home. As soon as they came, Amma let me go. Chithi took me to my room and asked me to lie down. She was also crying. I didn't understand it. Why were all the older people crying? Chithi stroked my hair and asked me not to worry. Everything will be okay, she said. But there was nothing wrong, except everyone crying. Where are Appa and Anna, I asked her. Chithi held me tight and wouldn't let go of me. I pushed her away. It was high time everyone stopped crying. Besides, I didn't have enough chocolates to offer everybody!
I ran to my Amma and asked her where Anna and Appa were. I'm sure Appa would have stopped them all from acting so stupidly. Appa can make anyone do anything. He is an engine driver you know. He drives big big trains. Whenever he wants, he can make the train move. He allowed me to make the big train noise when I got good marks in school. I am in Lower KG and my teacher even put sticker in my book for getting good marks.
Today Appa and Anna went together in the train. Anna must have also got good marks. That's why he was wearing blue shirt. But it is so dark, why didn't they come back till now? Amma has not even made food. I have to wait so much time. And these people are also there at home. Amma won't stop crying. She is hugging me and screaming "Arun! Arun!" Arun is my anna's name. She is also screaming my Appa's name. I am getting scared. Why is she screaming and crying? Where is my appa? Where is my anna? I want them here now!
Ammamma held my hand and took me away from amma. I was crying very badly. I don't want everyone to cry, I told her. Where are appa and anna, I asked her sternly.
She rubbed her eyes and whispered to me, "They have gone to meet god, Kannamma."
she sits there,
her hair drenched
in the pale,
the dust, still,
on her feet
listening to the music
of her soul.
the silence around her
settles in a mist,
enthralled by her sound,
swirling to the flow.
she sings to
at the centre
of the universe,
her eyes shining
and the world watching.
of random words and arbit conversation.
of pani puri and veggie delite.
of chocolate and loss-of-weight.
from putting sharpened pencil ends jacket hoods
and literature text book commentary
to calvin and hobbes and time magazine.
of sunsets and funky light pictures.
of haircuts and shopping.
of movies and schindlers list.
from love and hate
and insipid smiles
to love and hate and sarcasm.
of being cute and wanting to be sexy.
of getting drunk and dancing.
of corny forwards and songs in mid-conversation.
from kanki and rv
to maths-b and physics
to rebecca and miss universe.
of child labour and long drives with discmans.
of surprise parties and banana milkshake.
of mirchi bajjis with onions, and them with chole.
to delhi, dehradoon
of arguing about aspirations,
of talking about where-the-c-key-is
of discussing terrorism.
from innocent school girls
to irresponsible eighteen year olds.
you're the bestest friend i've ever had.
today was the first time i got eve-teased by an auto guy, probably forty years older than i am.
i was coming back home from a friend's place. the guy kept turning back and looking at me, kept trying to make conversation with me (which i kept ignoring), staring at me in the rear view mirror.. i ignored all of that (i was getting late, my mom would have killed me if i was later than 9.30 considering i have an exam tomorrow).
so i finally got home, got out of the auto and looked for money in my bag, and the bastard goes "jism bada mast hain".
i didn't get it the first time, i thought he was saying something about change, so i gave him a quizzical "what the fuck are you saying" look.. and he had the audacity to repeat it!
the worst part of all this is, today is the day i decided to forget my cellphone.
also, i don't seem to understand if i need to take that as a hidden compliment two weeks down the line, or a sarcastic horny comment.
i need to learn how to drive.
it has been ages since i've randomly flirted with words. with that weightlessness in my fingers i wander across the unswept roads of autumn leaves and onion peels. i haven't, in forever now, felt a stream of energy flow through my fingers. i look, slowly, consciously, without wanting to look away. in that flicker of eye contact, i smile and turn away. a small grin stubbornly sits under my nose. pretty word, gay word, long word, ugly word, cute word, static word with purple stains. a glance here, a peep there. dressed in hot denims and cool socks among other things, words that turn heads.
ages, it has been, since i've written irresponsibly.
i'm free again. i just broke up with the boundary and caught up with my imagination.
there's something magical about swimming in the rain.
she was floating facing the sky. it was drizzling slightly. the pool was empty, as it usually always is. she pulled her swimming goggles down to her neck. she shut her eyes and let herself go. her ears were in the water, so she couldn't hear what was going on above the water. it was calm. there was nobody around. she was tired. it had been a long day, and tomorrow was going to be a long day as well. she wasn't thinking about anything. this amazed her. the only thing going on in her head was a song she didn't know the words to. the little she knew, she sang aloud. to herself, mostly, but also some for the rain. the sky thundered and she opened her eyes. there was a white flash of lightning that highlighted the clouds. she took a deep breath, turned around and swam back to the shallow end. with a sigh, as the drizzle became rain, she walked out. she was smiling, to herself mostly, but also to the rain.
and she sang again..
its days like this that hmmm.. me
turn me inside out and learn me
not to tell you anything..
i think i know
but i think i tell you all that i know..
i wanna be alone,
i wanna be a stone
i wanna sink to the bottom of the ocean
lie there with you 'til i'm gone..
at the bottom of the big blue sea
just you and me..
bo'm of the big bluuuuuuueee seeeeaaaaaa..
(lyrics from big blue sea, bob schneider.)
Light at the end of the tunnel.
Dig, he raged on.
He peeked at the world outside to make sure nobody was watching.
He didn't catch my eye.
Went back to his recluse.
Finally, he hit treasure. Joy masked his eyes. He pulled it out in triumph. Almost cried in relief. He turned to peek again.
I was caught. And all that joy disappeared. His face turned red, his eyes tried to find a curtain to hide behind, but didn't find one. I blinked, smiled apologetically and looked away.
He shrugged and left his seat.
Even snot can't be picked in peace in these ages of the dark.
It's not nostalgia, what I'm feeling. It's not like a trip down memory lane, either. It feels more like I'm leafing through a book whose every word I have memorized over time. It feels like I'm unravelling and re-wrapping the same gifts over and over again, to smile and imagine what you would probably say about them.
Happy Birthday Blur!
This is for all those brilliant times we had together!
Shaky, trembling fingers.
Teeth playing their own games with my tongue.
I forget lyrics to the song I've been listening to all day.
Force myself to do the next sum, grudgingly.
Cold fingers, too. Did I mention? Cold, shaky, trembling fingers.
I turn the fan off. Summer, they're calling it.
Just gets colder. Toes begin to freeze now.
I take a deep breath.
I'm tensed. Why, I don't know.
I don't have butterflies in my stomach. Good thing, I muse.
I've been eating like a hog.
Applams, murrukus, kurkure, macaroni and cheese, just cheese, maggi, more maggi, chocolate. Been drinking cartons of orange juice. And tea.
Still hungry. Rats running around in my stomach, even.
Winamp decides to mock me. Plays Could it Be Any Harder, The Calling.
Must go, now.
Clock decides to mock me, too.
I don't like time like that.
I just don't like time.
Sometimes, I want music to fill me up, echo within me, push me onto shore and pull me into water simultaneously, like waves of the sea.
Sometimes, I want music to fall on me like rain, drench me, soothe me of my wounds, calm me.
Sometimes, I want music to make me move, tap my feet, have me smile, stay about me, around me.
Sometimes, I want music to know me, to love me, to hold me and reassure me.
Most times, I just want music to be.
Anything that happens, happens.
Anything that, in happening, causes something else to happen, causes something else to happen.
Anything that, in happening, causes itself to happen again, happens again.
It doesn't necessarily do it in chronological order though.
-From Mostly Harmless, the fifth book in the increasingly inaccurately named Hitchhiker's guide to the galaxy Trilogy by Douglas Adams.