I want to write but I can’t

I want to write but I can’t.
I want to write about the dazzling sun and the softest rain, but I can’t.
About a pleased smile, the tilt of the head and the wink of an eye.
The whispering of the leaves, of your hand in mine.
Of the softness of the sand, or the warmth in your eyes, I can’t.
Of hues and colours, of dark and light, I can’t.
Of autumn leaves in a gale, the breathlessness of a dance with you; I can’t.
Of love and romance, of all things poetic; I can’t.
About your soothing presence, the storm of music; I can’t.
About the tiniest sliver of hope; that whiff of promise, I can’t.
Of the sweetness of sleep, or of me against your shoulder, I can’t.
Of hopeless hope, of all things imaginary and unknown, I can’t.
Of words and metaphors, you and I, I can’t.

Random

I love swivel chairs. Especially when you can play dashing cars with them.

I am very very confused with what I want to 'become'. Why can't we have a course that lets us study computer science and English?

Bubble wrap is good. It's even better when 3 people are pulling at it from all ends, trying to see who can burst the most bubbles.

I need to write. More.

Cake is the best thing God gave us. I don't discriminate. Plum, fruit, vanilla, strawberry, I welcome them all with an open mouth.

9 hours is a lot of time. I wonder how people manage to have a social life while they're working.

Knowing the local language is a very powerful thing. Only realised that when I visited a home for differently abled people yesterday. Seeing determination to live under tough conditions is a good reality check.

It's necessary to be a little frivolous. And pick up things just because they're pretty. Or do things to add a little colour to your home or office. Makes all the difference.

I dream too much. Must put in a minimal effort to atleast set the ball rolling.

A decorated Christmas tree is terribly pretty. And yes, it brings cake with it.

Journal

September 1^st

Hey, it’s me, your friendly neighbourhood journal. I have lived in this shop, unimaginatively called ‘Book land’ for most of my life, until yesterday when I was bought for the measly price of 20 bucks. I am not so cheap, I say! When I was printed and bound at United Press, I was Queen of all the journals. Priced the highest amidst cheap, yellow papered ones, I sported a maroon cover made of the softest velvet. I took pleasure in looking down on the common diaries (it would be an insult to my kind to call them journals) until a nincompoop of a kid thought it would be hilarious to stick a wad of gum on me. Ugh, the icky sensation has never quite left me.

Ouch, that’s a jolt. It looks like my owner enjoys a bumpy ride. Also- 

September 2^nd

  I don’t think I like JK very much. He is loud, crude and dropped me with a bang yesterday, making me fall face down on gravel. I had reckoned that I was going to be gifted to a teenager who would finish me by agonising over his lady love’s misdemeanours. Thankfully, that didn’t happen. In fact, his latest entry was so thrilling that it sent shivers down my cardboard spine.

 September 2^nd (he wrote in curly, loopy letters),

(contd.)I passed her on the road yesterday. As beautiful and vulnerable as a fresh lily, she daintily crossed the street when she saw me. I kept following. She suddenly seemed to feel very cold. Haha! She pulled at her coat like it would magically grow in length and her feet hurried to reach the end of the road. I felt bored to follow her further as always so I just pointed at her and laughed loudly. ‘Maniac,’ she called me. They all did. I liked that. I haven’t decided how to finish her off. Yet. It has to be different than the others. Will think about it tomorrow.

Bye,

  JK 

I was right! JK is indeed a shady character. The many days I spent in the book shop, crushed underneath the heavy handwriting analysis book hasn’t been in vain. I shiver every time he lifts his coffee cup, sure that he’s going to empty the hot contents over me. Shudder.

 September 5^th

 JK has decided to give me a miss today. It’s almost midnight and he hasn’t turned towards me yet. He has been like this for a couple of days now and my pages are feeling restless. They had gotten used to the daily exercise of sliding over one another. Also, the curiosity is just threatening to engulf me! Sigh. 

September 5^th

It’s over. Her curly hair lies loose at my feet, her lips cold as ice. It’s over.

 Murderer! I’m his next victim. Hot coffee. Aaaaah!

--------------------------------------------

 November 6^th, Daily Times.

 First time writer, JK causes a sensation with his first book, ‘The Shoulder of Ice.’ Turn to page 5 for an exclusive interview.

This was an entry for the Live Journal Flash Fiction competition. Nope, I didn't qualify...

Current Affairs

Congratulations to Obama! History has certainly been made. And what a victory speech that was! Quite awe-inspring, I must say. And yes, hopefully, he will live up to all the expectations that people have pinned to him. The true test of the President starts when the victory speeches are over, you see!

On one hand, while we see people openly accepting a black President, intolerance is growing too. There are some things that surprise you and the recent illegalisation of gay marriages in California has been one of them. Apparently, giving the same rights to homosexual partnerships as married couples is good enough and hence, not allowing them to get married is not a violation of rights. Denying marriage is not a violation, I hear! 

The argument that supported it was that children are being robbed of their innocence by being taught about gay marriages. According to a video I watched, “My son came home from school and asked me, ‘Mom, our teacher told me boys can marry each other.’” And the mother was scared for her child’s innocence. But you know what, when children learn about straight marriages they do wonder from time to time how children are born. But do we ban straight marriages saying, ‘Oh, kids might learn of sex too soon'? It doesn’t happen that way. Questions are innocently answered and children innocently accept them. I fail to see the difference between gay and straight marriages in that matter. In fact, if children grew up learning that there’s nothing strange in gay marriage, they are more likely to be tolerant and not perform hate-crimes.

It’s just sad. While Section 377 of the IPC continues to shame India, I always thought the USA was less narrow minded. I am confused.

Two to Tango

Anju kicked a stone out of her way. She looked from the corner of her eye to see where it had fallen. It had veered off course and now she couldn’t be bothered to try and kick it. She gave a small sigh of irritation and walked on. Her iPod played the soothing ‘Joy of Life’ by Kenny G, but her mind was in a tumultuous state. Possibly, the fact that her right earphone wasn’t working must have added to her general frustration. She tweaked the right earphone, hoping it would miraculously start functioning again.

She should have never gotten into this relationship, she knew.
“Bah,” she told herself as she kicked another stone, this time with renewed energy.
She knew what to do. It would be smooth and clean. She had done it so many times that she was now an old hand at it.
“Ah. Such bliss will follow,” she told herself, almost smacking her lips.

She saw him at a distance and smiled sinisterly. If you were there, you would have held your breath as she approached him -
“Hi, Sudhir. Listen, I’m breaking up with you,” she said. “Best of luck etc. etc. Bye!”
“What? But, we were supposed to get married!”
“Whatever gave you the idea? Get lost, you creep.”
“Wait, you can’t leave without telling me why you’re doing this to me.”
“Hahaha!!!”
“No, seriously.”
“One, you are crazily possessive and it irks me no end,” she said counting it off her fingers. “Two, you are always busy, never return calls, etc. Three, you are mean. Four, you have queer opinions on everything and are narrow minded. Five-”
“Oh, f**k off, bitch.”
“Six!”

“Ah, this is the joy of life,” she laughed to herself as she turned on her iPod again. Her right earphone gave a hopeful squeak and she tweaked it, expectantly. This time it yielded and music flooded both her ears. Humming, she hailed an auto-rikshaw.

“And then he actually asked me why I was breaking up with him! Can you beat that?” Anju told her best friend Ria.
“Oh, ha! I suppose he must have started his usual emotional stuff about being a one-woman man?” said Ria.
“Oh, God, no. I don’t think I’d have been able to stand that. Might have collapsed with laughter. I mean, after the number of girlfriends he’s had! Do you think he subjected each one of them to that sickening bollywood dialogue?”
“Ha ha! I’m sure he has. I’m glad you broke up with him!” said Ria giving Anju a hug.You sure you won’t go through any single’s blues?”
“Are you kidding? That was quite a cleansing ritual! Pity I didn’t call him names. Shit! Why do I have to be so civilized at times?” she mused.
“You are about as civilized as a sabre toothed tiger,” Ria laughed.
“Ha, true. Spread the news to the four quarters and silence the ‘Why the hell is she seeing him?’ question. I’ll see you in a couple of days. Bye!”


Next day dawned bright and clear. Anju yawned loudly, stretched and stared at her colourless ceiling. It must have been white once upon a time, but now it could just be called colourless. Loose plaster dangled from it in a couple of places and she had placed her bed strategically so that none of the plaster would fall on her bed. Anju was 30-something, made a decent salary, and single. The single part of her life didn’t worry her that much but her parents kept wanting her to ‘settle’.
“I am settled. I’ll make good money to feed me for the rest of my life,” she had told her parents in exasperation.
“Oh, these modern children. They will never understand. You know Malati’s son? He says the same too. And I was hoping we could talk to them about Anju and him.”
“Haha! The skinny boy who was scared of ghosts! Mom, do you remember the time he came and I -”
“That was very wrong. Poor child. But you should talk to him. He is a software engineer and -”
“He is from a good family, same caste, kundalis matching too, probably. I know, I know. Let it be, okay? I don’t even remember his name.”
“Now, give me some more of that awesome payasam!” Anju said.
Her mom beamed. It was Anju’s way of making up, she knew. She didn’t mind. She grinned as she ladled some onto a bowl and handed it to Anju.
“Awesome Payasam! That’s the worst pair of rhyming words I have heard in a decade,” shouted her brother Pradeep from a corner.
“What about ‘amber sambaar’ or… or,”
“Stop it Akka, you’ll drive me nuts.”


Anju switched on her iPod and changed the mode to ‘shuffle’. A loud song byMetallica hit her ears hard. “Whatever was I thinking when I put it in my iPod!” she cursed. She peered into the iPod to choose a new song.
“Crash, bang!” She had walked right into someone. She only saw yellow for a moment.
“I’m so sorry,” said the guy in the yellow T-shirt, stepping away.
“No, my mistake. I wasn’t watching where I was going,” she said.
“Hey, I know you. You’re Anju, right?”
“Err, yes… Oh my god, you’re Robber!”
“Good lord, stop calling me that! I stopped stealing your lunch a long time ago! And it was just once, you know. I just couldn’t stand any more rotis.”
“Robber, robber! Gosh, it’s been so long!”
“Yeah. Hey, will you join me for some coffee? CCD’s right next door.”
“Uh, sure.”

A pleasant fifteen minutes later, Anju looked at her watch. She knew she was getting late for work, but she was reluctant to leave. She had genuinely laughed at someone’s jokes after a long time. Something about Robber made her smile. “What was he like in school?” she tried to recall. Her memory failed her.
“You know, you used to draw really well?” he said, cutting through her thoughts.
“What rot! I have never drawn so much as a stick figure!”
“No, no. There was this drawing competition we won together…”
“Oh, yes, in standard three, right?”
“You idiot, you don’t remember me at all, do you? There was never any drawing competition!”
“You mean, you baited me? You ass!”
“Haha!”
“Ha, I really have to go now. See you some other time?”
“Sure!”

She walked out of the door and waved good bye. Still smiling to herself, she walked on.

“Oh, I’ve forgotten to take down his number!”
She turned to yell out his name when she saw Sudhir approaching. He walked upto Robber and hugged him.
“And you told me you’d call immediately when you reached? And here you are, blowing up your money in CCD.”
“No, dude. I was about to come when-“

Anju slowly slunk away.

(To be continued)