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Tuesday, May 18, 2010


She didn't like anyone anymore. He opened her window wide. She stretched her hands and yawned. It was less of a yawn and more of a wail of frustration. She felt her muscles stretch, a cold prickly wave of relief took over her spine. She twisted her body and cracked her knuckles. Her friends wouldn't approve of this, it wasn't very feminine. It was anti-vogue. That's exactly why she did it. She removed her hair band and let the wind play with her hair. He looked down the 15 floors , and saw her friends, all dressed up and noisy filling up a car. It was a changing world around her. Her friends changed, the winds changed, thoughts changed, but she never changed. She understood it was all a war, a race to become someone else. She wasn't racing. But she was fighting to remain her self, to see the wind make love to her hair and not worry about the two hours or straightening , coloring and blowing her hair had to under go to mimic that actresses hair. She watched how the wind tugged at her curls, lifting it then dropping it, how it's invisible fingers brushed her hair and then like a little boy tangled it and finally blew it over her face.

Her phone beeped, she didn't look at it. It was her friends telling they are having a good time and maybe they could have hooked her up with someone handsome. She didn't want a hook up. She didn't understand what a hook up meant. Why would she? Like everyone else, she also dreamed of finding that person. Her real soul mate. But, unlike everyone else, she didn't stop looking and have a “hook up”. She didn't want to define her relationships by practicality or sensibility. She was a romantic and she will remain one. That is exactly why she stood here, gazing out of the window at the dusty smoke slithering through the streets. Dreaming. She had built her tree house here. The window looking down at this magical waterfall. Mist spraying over her lips, she would lick the sweet dew. The gushing blue waters drummed up a rhythm for the birds to sing. She could even hear little crickets chirping over the thunderous drums roll of the waterfall. The river would snake through the thick and alive jungle till it meets in the ocean. This was the river. This was her river, the river in which her soul mate would come. He would row his little boat of aspirations and adventure and steer it right into her magical cascades. She wouldn't settle for anyone else. She wouldn't any lover or part time romance to dilute this fantasy. She would make sure she deserved to live her fantasy. Her phone beeped again.

She checked her messages, it was her friend telling how much the other guy liked her gold eye liner. Fuck the eyeliner. Whats wrong with everyone she thought. She had to help her friend put her gold eyeliner for about one hour. Did Cleopatra use gold eyeliner. Yeah! Cleopatra also slept with thousand men. She remember something. The gold eyeliner was in her bag. She ruffled through her bag and found it. Golden eyes don't sound really good. The sun was golden, it makes the mountain tops golden. Even these gray concrete buildings which spread in her horizon would turn golden when the sun kissed its forehead. The stars were golden. Golden stars. She looked up in the inky sky. Not even one was seen. She looked down at the people walking not one person looked up. No one wanted to see the stars nowadays. Even if they did they wouldn't see any. The stars and heavenly bodies didn't matter anymore. The stars are the ones we see on TV and heavenly bodies are what stars have. But today some one is going to see some stars . She searched through her stationary and found a large piece of paper. Today she would be god. A goddess. She browsed through her drawers till she found a bottle of black paint. She was a goddess and now she will infuse this white and dull sky with the mystery and enigma of darkness. She poured the entire bottle of black paint over it. And with her hands spread the paint evenly covering the her canvas, her night sky. The might goddess conjuring the night with her dancing hand. With a hearty smile of self realization she started tearing the black paper into little pieces. She wondered why people changed so much? She wouldn't change. She was a rock, it would take years of weathering and erosion to change her. Years. Even thought things didn't work out for her. She was proud that she never let go of her ethics, and personality. She fantasized now what she fantasized ages ago. She was a queen then and she is a queen now. She had her palace built on a water fall with little blue fairies flying around now she waited in that same palace, as a goddess. She wouldn't settle for a puny mortal who likes gold eyeliners to share her little paradise with. She would only share it with a god. A god who has the power to let everyone else disappear, a god who could conjure up dreams,even in this dry deserts of imagination. She looked at the little pieces of paper she was tearing. A god who can catch these stars. She leaned and looked down at the streets, at the stream of unemotional superficial souls flowing over the tar and concrete, lifeless, ugly and lost.

She finished tearing up the black paper. Her sky. Now she will make her stars. She took out the eye liner and with the same intense smile, she started painting little stars. One each bit of paper. She left one side blank. For imagination. She sat there on the window's ledge painting. Each star she gave a name. “This is 'Jasmine eye'........ you are 'blue son' you want to be ' snake berry'....” a thousand names for a thousand stars. At some names she laughed at herself . Some were sweet, some a little naughty. But she kept painting those stars and giving them names. In the back of her occupied mind,s he could see herself sitting on the edge of the window and painting the stars. Pathetic. Is she saw someone doing the same she would be concerned. Was she out of her mind. She wanted to be. This was her rebellion. Her anger, her unheard mutiny with her life. Her silent escape. Her insanity.

She finished creating her stars. She watched all the people walking below her. She was still in her tree house. But the stars made it more divine, more spectacular more divine. She grabbed all of her stars. She imagined herself in those streets as hundreds of stars rain down her. For a moment she was there. When the stars hit the street. She hoped someone might appreciate it. Someone like her, who never forgot about how magical life was. She wanted to tell something, now. Maybe a poem, maybe some iconic verses, gods always said something. She couldn't thing of anything. Without further thought she hurled , her paper stars out into the streets. She closed her eyes, felt a little breathless. A certain helplessness, like everything else in her life, she lost control of her stars too. She imagined the stars spreading and glittering falling over the streets like an unexpected drizzle in the summer. She imagined how faces would suddenly lit up, when they see stars fall. No most of them wouldn't even notice it, and complain how people litter the streets. She opened her eyes , to face the truth. She didn't see the stars spread out, she didn't see it magically glittering. The bits of paper had got caught in draft of air, her luck. The little air devil lifted her stars and floated it away, If she squinted her eyes hard enough she noticed a glimmering ball caught in the wind. All her stars stuck swirling ball. The smile in her face was stiff, her hopes hadn't faded yet. She watched as the wind rolled up her paper stars and swung it around. It would hit the ground any moment now. Suddenly a wisp of smoke joined the swirling dance of her stars. Then she noticed someone. He was sitting on a bench and staring at her stars, Her smile relaxed, sparkled her eye. She saw her stars hover over him, gliding slowly, smothering him in sparkles. Life was magical for him. She saw him. She could feel his euphoria, feeding her ecstasy. She saw him raise his hand through the stars. She saw him feeling the stars fall over him, she saw him catching one star, immersed in this miracle, gazing into her creation. She knew it was ' beach dew', the first star she created.

Sunday, May 2, 2010

Walking in the beach....................

He liked walking. Walking alone. He would play one or two songs on his phone, repeating it over and over again. He would push in his ear phones as tight and snug as possible, the volume to its maximum. He doesn't want to be disturbed. There were a thousand cars he didn't want to hear, there were a thousand engines he didn't care for, a thousand horns, he didn't want to hear anyone's hello, he didn't care for what they said on their phones. He liked to walk alone. The streets were crowded, the roads were scary, and his gaze was distant. He didn't see the people, he didn't notice the cars, the smell of burning rubber and gas never reached his senses. The beach smelled of salty sand and sweet coconuts. The static and stagnant air drenched him in dusty sweat. Yet he imagined a cool breeze, It was the beach he was walking on, the one with the white sand, the crystal blue waters, the one with coconut palms lining the sea till the horizon. The one on the lost island. The one no one else will ever know about. Today he would see sea turtles dig their nests. They would never be bothered by him standing close to their lairs. Few of them even brush his feet as they slowly crawl out from the ocean. The street lights drowned everything in pale yellow. But his beach was cradled in the evening's cool gaze. He was walking. A sea of humanity brushed past him in that crowded street, but he only felt the tickling breeze of the wide blue wonder. There wasn't any shells to collect, nor was there any reason to stop. He has his songs,, veiling his senses from the world. He wore no mask, his face was the brightest in the crowd. It was lit by the tropical evening sun, ready to dream as a full moon glorifies the blue rendezvous. All the faces around him wore masks, the dull street lights camouflaging their creases and frowns. He would never be a part of their world. He could never be. He would still walk among them looking for nothing, talking to no one. He would change the songs, he would change his clothes, he would change his dreams and yet he would be a shipwreck walking on magical white beach.
He stopped at a small shop. He bought a bottle of water. It was going to be along walk back he realized. Maybe he should take a break, watch unfamiliar,identical faces pass by. Watch their forgotten dreams fade away in yellow street light. They all must have forgotten what they loved. They must have loved someone, something , some dream as a child. Maybe for two years maybe for five maybe ten. Do they remember that now, what they wanted to be, how they wanted to live their lives, when they were a child. Now to them it must seem stupid, immature, childish fantasies, that doesn't ever happen in the real world. He wondered if they still loved the same people, or did practicality and material logic slowly govern their emotions. All their dearest fantasies destroyed. He wondered if they ever tried to live those fantasies. He would never stop wanting to live those fantasies. He dreamed of them every single moment. He wasted his life dreaming. He was waiting, he was searching for the right moment in destiny when his wings would grow and stretch out. He almost believed it would happen. Why shouldn't he? The best parts of his life has been in his imagined worlds, he would explore them inch by inch. He would look for a friend a partner,a mate, a friend in the crowds, a familiar face he has never laid eyes on before. A face he might see on his island, a smile he wouldn't mind seeing. A face he would never get tired of. A face he could see in his adventures, beside him forever. He knew there existed no such face. It wouldn't be fair to others. Two people enjoying all they want in their adventures, which others forget to even dream. The world had already crucified him. If he had a partner he was sure he would be burnt like a witch. But it would be great to have partner, just like him so he didn't have to talk to himself. Both of them can conquer the world. How would he find such a person. There was no way. How will he know such a person. The world by itself was a network of loneliness. No one truly shared. But he knew such a person would share, like him. He might as well look for him. On every face that passed by him he would try to look beyond their material mask. Most of the time he removed their mask, he would find nothing. Just a hollow container of dreams drained into the lost. Yet he would sometimes find a little glimmer in some eye that's almost going to fade. He would smile at them, ever so slightly, hoping that his smile could make that glimmer last a little longer. Maybe one day he will see the glimmer last longer and longer. Maybe that day he will find himself smiling, at a mirror, maybe he would find himself in another. Maybe that day the dark, greasy skies of the city would rain stars, and maybe, just maybe he would catch those falling stars.

It was a long walk. He decided to take a break. He always chose the right spot. A spot where he could see all the faces, a spot where the darkness almost made him invisible, a spot where a slight tilt of his head could bring him into light. He found his place. He wasn't ordinarily interested by tall buildings with the amoebic activity of society throbbing and pulsing around it, but today he was in his beach. He loved the beach. He fiddled with his settings on this phone, played with the equalizer and widened the stereo. He wanted to be sitting in front of a wide ocean, full of blue wonders and mystery, his voice shouldn't echo today, but get lost in between dolphins. He pulled out his cigarette and lit it. His face in the darkness, he looked at everyone watching by, most of them were like him, everyone lived in their own world. The difference was his world was built on dreams and flying castles, everyone else built their dreams on concrete and printed paper. He slowly sucked on his cigarette, releasing the smoke even slower blowing it in from of his eyes. He looked through he smoke, hoping to see anything. He watched the smoke slowly fade away, rising up into infinity. He took another drag and blew a thick cloud, and he looked at it. How slowly the edges swirl away, how the white grays away. He watched how it slowly spread away stretching and swirling, like a small personal sky of his own, above him. He inhaled longer, sucked in more and slowly opened his mouth letting a larger cloud of smoke float away. He looked though the cloud. He saw it roll and swirl inside out, and then, that's when he saw small sparkle, a shine. That's when he felt the shiver, did he see it? The cloud smoke spread above him, making a thin personal sky. And as he looked through his sky he saw a hundred stars floating down. Was it real? It was wonderful, the shiver in his thoughts materialized, a cold wave of euphoria spread through his veins. This is real!The glittering shiny golden stars were falling over him. Where was he, on the beach ? No ,the stars glided down from a starless sky. They were little, the stars., as it floated down by him. His eyes widened. Where was he? The yellow hue of the street sparkled as the stars glided towards the earth. He forgot about the beach. His hands floated up unknowingly, and he watched as his hand slowly grabbed a star among hundred others. A golden star, torn from the night sky.