Love By the FaceBook

“Excuse me, Can u hear me ?”

A voice seemed to fade into the air...

Lost in the oblivion of solitude, the world to him seemed so mundane and hollow. Couching on a lone bus at Jeevan Bheema nagar , Anurag kept mulling at every raindrop that kissed the ground and slitted into several smaller drops. A few sporty ones cruised on a roller coaster ride by the rim of the window pane finally dropping on his elbow. He had given hope that his Face Book acquaintance would ever be his friend and date him...
She would ? She would'nt ?....She would ? …..But why not ? After all she had promised him when he last pinged her. His mind was playing a tug of war with self inflicted questions between Would she or Wouldn't she...

SHWETA, thats the name, he typed searching for long lost class mate.
And FaceBook recommended him a bunch of Shweta Aggarwal to his confusion...Many of them sporting a beautiful profile pictures but to no avail. He browsed through one of the profile with no picture but a big yellow color circle that was happy smiley. Suspecting Shweta he was looking for he sent her a message...

Hey Shweta...
This is me...Anurag !!!Remember ? GOD...where on earth I did not search for u ? Where are you and how u doing ? Remember...u said me... We will always be in touch...But it seems the day we parted from school, we lost our connection...Hope you are the shweta one am looking for 'o else I am sorry !!!
Reply in haste...
Anurag

Hello Anurag
I am sorry...I am not the one Shweta you are looking for....But your message was sweet indeed and I see your are a wonderful artist...One of the sketches in your Photos , where a couple is dancing on white cloud... that sketch...it really touched my heart. I would not mind making you my acquaintance.
Love
Shweta

Acquaintance and Love she had used both the words in her short message. Well, for a moment he felt something unusual under his belly. Nevertheless both of them added each other as acquaintance and as the day passed by they became good friends and as more days passed they became a little more than close friends, if you understand what I mean.

******************************************************************

Shweta tiptoed towards the terrace hiding the piece of paper in her bosom which Anurag had given her this evening. It was a starry night with the wind just blowing to soothe her cheeks. Gingerly she unfolded the piece of paper. It was a sketch of a girl in black sleeveless top which looked exactly like her. Her hairs loose open, strands flying in the air, hands strethced wide emracing the rainfall. Droplets of water hanging aoround her nose and cheeks, as thought bidding the last good bye just before falling down and her dress fully wet hugging her body as though taking the warmth of her ethereal skin. In the background there was a coconut tree bowing down to her as if for protecting her from the storm and there was a streak of lightening in the sky which she was not wary off. Completely independent, Jovial and full of frolic she was lost in her own world of dance.

The sketch was just out of the world. Her lips arched from one end of her cheek to another smiling with unlimited blush. She felt very happy that someone can imagine her so beautifully. But there was a tinge of concern as her heart ached for a moment. She never danced so freely and what if Anurag had fallen in love with her ? It was not that she did not like him but she couldn't imaging getting married to him. She was daughter of a millionaire builder while he was just a meager earning artist. She pondered for some time and decided to suppress her happiness in her heart she felt for the sketch and for Anurag.

******************************************************************

The next afternoon she waited for him at Costa Coffee house. Getting down from his bike, he adjusted his hair . She could sense his anticipation of getting tons of compliment from her....

“So, How was it ?”

“It was good”, She said, “But not like me, u know”....

“But Why not ?”

“The girl in your sketch it seems... Seems like very much younger than I am ....plus she is stupid. She could have at least taken a shelter, how can she be so careless to dance in rain under the coconut tree when its lightening.”

Shweta kept speaking and Anurag kept listening as his eyes sinked deeper and breath became shallower.

“But I dint set out to make you stupid. I drew you as you came to me”

A voice from her heart was telling her to keep mum, but she decide not to listen to it..,

“Did u know, my daddy has never ever let me walk in the rain”

“No But-”

“Did you know I have never ever danced in an open area, like you have depicted ?”

“No But-”

“You are completely mistaken about me. I am rich Anurag but I am not as free as you think. My daddy is really strict and he never let me alone anywhere except for when I come to college. He is like that not because he is thinks I am girl but because he cares for me more than anything in the world.”

“Osh...I am Sorry Shweta...but can you give me a chance to fix it....Can I make the real you ? The one which you like to be....Confident ,Careful and your daddy's daughter...I promise...”



“Daddy' Daughter”, these words from him stole her heart. But she was silent...She knew she has spoken so much for no reason and it was indeed a beautifully sketched herself. She felt sorry but she never expressed her apologies.

“OK”, She replied, “But I don't like wearing black top u sketched ”, She tried putting in attitude.

“You don't have to, I gonna clad you in the blue embroidered salwar, with dupatta hanging very carefully around your slender neck. Your ears Jewelled with the perfect gem hiding between your well groomed strands falling on to your shoulder and your forehead dotted with shinning bindi between your eye brows. ”

Anurag was talking about one of her profile picture on FaceBook that she probably had clicked in one the wedding cermony.

“and I dont want to dance under the rain and my hands should be well poised”

“Sure, you will not...I will make u sit on a chair , a well manicured hands perfectly crossed over your knees. I love it when you are like that flawlessly sitting on chair sporting a smile that could make a sad person like me smile too”

“and I love it when my eyes are Kohled and my feet ankled ”

“Your eyes are beautiful, that is perhaps the first thing I noticed about you. I can imagine how pretty you would look, like when your eye rim would be accentuated by shades of Kohl and how good it would sound when your anklet would jangle as you walked effortlessly”

Shweta sensed her cheeks getting redder and her heart pounding unusually extra as she never ever imagined in her sweetest dream that someone would describe her so beautifully.

It was time for them to part. They bid good bye to each other. Anurag promised that he would paint her exactly the way he told her. Shweta smiled for the last time as she turned to go. Suddenlly she became conscious of her dress she was wearing, the melody of her anklet as she stepped each time and her eyes that whether she forgot to smear it with the Kohl today.Was she in Love too?

To be Coninued....

Serendipity...

Well Serendipity is a story that was written as a part of YOURS TRULY, Complete the Story Contest. Thought i started writing the story long back but couldn't complete it on time. Better late than never, I finally decided to make this Serendipitous couple to call it a day. A young couple who met by chance and destiny had something reserved for them. EnJoY....


It was raining heavily, pouring down, a welcome respite from the heat of the past week. Huddled under the small over-crowded bus stand, I was waiting for the rain to letup so I could walk back from work, when suddenly, out of nowhere, she came walking towards me, and then….

and then with soft effortless accent she asked,
“Is this wallet yours?”

I was surprised by the unexpected suave voice as my eye brows accentuated my expression…

I at ones fished out my fiddling hand into my rear pocket and when I found it empty. The ground under my feet toppled for a moment…

In a jiffy, I took wallet and puffed bountiful of fresh air when I found the purse was mine and my credit card was intact.
“Thank you”, I said.

She smiled and it was so flawless that couldn’t let my eyes off from her. Her black salwar perfectly rolled over her body that had elegance to make any stranger fall in love with her. Her locks numerically dangled twice before it just caressed her soft sleeveless shoulder. “What a beauty”, I told myself.

My eyes met her just for a moment when a red color Volvo screeched to halt. Without even saying a word she disappeared into the crowd. I saw her for the last time through the window. Her eyes caught mine again as I was lost in her with a sense of appreciation. There was a lengthy pause as if the moment had just frozen. The frank and innocent look of mine had won a smile from her. There was a language in her eyes which I couldn’t fathom. I was oblivious for a moment and suddenly the Volvo had hit its stride before I could ask for her number. I felt sad but to no avail…

I felt unusually happy under my belly. I wish I too had boarded the bus along with her.
On a second thought, it was just serendipity and this isn’t a movie. I kept mulling the sweet experience and couldn’t realize when it stopped pouring and I had strolled all the way to my guesthouse.



“Jan 4th, Monday, Bangalore express, M-26, M-27”,
I re-read my tickets for confirmation.

“Hey Rohit, Look its Shweta Rai, F-24 on berth num 8”
I got up as I traced my finger on the semi dampen chart stuck to the coach.

“and here’s Govindraj Rai, M-53, her father”, I said jokingly

“My father- in- law, u jack ass”, chirped Sandip.

We both giggled as we boarded the train as it started pulling forward slowly.

Sandip and me were friends from same college and happened to be colleagues working for Samsung electronics. We were traveling back to Bangalore after a short business trip from Chennai.

I was trying to adjust my suitcase under the huge pit of darkness under my seat.




“Sorry, I didn’t hear you?, a soft suave voice floated in our compartment.

I looked back and was stuck with awe. It was beauty that was all ready defined in my heart. The same black salwar, her strands religiously making two curls before kissing her shoulder and the same captivating eyes radiating an extraordinary sensuousness…
I felt blank and a tremor of restless excitement raced across my body. Her eyes locked mine again and this time with more sense of invitation. She raised her eyebrows and broke the lines of glance with a very debonair blush as if waiting for me to say Hi…

“Is this berth yours, I mean 8-9”?, Rahul retaliated

“Am sorry… I mean come again”,

Birds chirped in Sandy’s head, Gathering courage and tossing his hair, he tired to gather her attention…

“Yes, its ours….Shweta keep our luggage’s on the top”, an elderly person raised his voice making his way through the aisle.

“Papa, where have u been?”

“And here comes Mr. GovindRaj Rai, her father stout and tall”, I whispered Sandip.
“And here comes My father in law, stout and tall”, Sandy giggled.

“So, Young man where are you traveling to…? You guys seems to be software engineers if I am not mistaken”

I being a shy guy kept mum, still lost in the mystery of meeting the salwar girl again.

Sandy looked at his Samsung tag relentlessly hanging around his neck and tried to win the moment from his future father in law with his petite and so called smart reply.

“Yes Sir, we work for Samsung in Bangalore” and forwarded his SWATCH tied right handed wrist for a shake.

Mr. Rai held his stout palm that was weaken with passé of time.
“And here is Rohit , my friend.”, Sandip introduced me.

“Meet my daughter Shweta doing her engineering from Mount Carmel”, Mr Rai introduced her as Sandip raced his hand before me to cuddle her palm.

She raised her hand too, a well manicured one and tiny pearl kept sitting on her middle figure adding to her femininity.

and when she shook her hand with me, it was just a touch of her that made me feel like a soothing sensation reliving my long tired nerves.


The train had hit its stride and the outside world seemed to travel back in time. The rain last evening added to the panoramic view of the nature. The huts, cows and the green field appeared as if making a collage of images in our eyes and then disappearing in a wink. Meanwhile Mr. Rai had opened his first series of Samosas and laddus.
Unable to react to his sumptuous snacks, Sandip fished out his laptop playing an old hindi Kishore Kumar number.

Mr Rai smiled at him as the melodious Kishore kumar came alive in our compartment. Sandip felt a sense of achievement as he gazed at Shweta.

It was a wasted gaze.
Shweta was busy feasting her eyes outside the window with the moving trees and green fields.

“May, I help you Sir?”

I was surprised at Sandip’s sudden tone as the train kept mildly swinging gaining speed.

He took the sauce packet from Mr. Rai helpless hand and opened it with a flare. He spread the thick liquid on the Samosas gazing at Shweta again.

She smiled in return and then this time she looked at me too. Our eyes met for the second time.

“And what do you guys do, apart from racking your head on Software code?”

That was an elderly question as if he is trying to judge the young personality traits of her daughter’s generation.

“I like reading Uncle…

Sherlock Holmes is my favorite and Conan Doyle is my hero”

That was a quick one from Sandy… and his talks from “Sir” to “Uncle”…. his eyes oozed a sense of achievement.

“and what about Rohit”?

“Rohit doesn’t like reading. He doesn’t have patience to do that. He is part of “I can Dance 2”, salsa dance school and often keep doing dance shows..”

Looking at me Mr. Rai queried…

“I Can Dance 2…..Sounds familiar…
Are you the guys who performed at Maniapl County this Christmas?”

“Aaah… Yees…..Yes uncle”, I fumbled for words as I spoke for the first time looking at Shweta.

She looked at me too…
and this time buying some time for a gasp of air, I managed to heave a smile at her.

“Ohh that’s great, when are you having your next show? And salsa seems to be a great dance form?

“Excactly papa, Salsa is very lively to dance and its feast watching professionals doing it”

I was rather surprised at Shweta quick reaction and was pleased to know her fondness for the dance. I felt now more confident and now I gambling my words more manfully I answered:

“Sure Sir… its at Kyra theatre….
Thurdsay…..
7Pm ”

I looked at Shweta and nodded my head with confidence.

“You mean Kyra restaurant @100 ft road, the food there is really sumptuous, papa hates though, he says the taste there comes with a huge dent in the pocket”

Mr. Rai defended, “I don’t hate the restaurant, but the dinner there a weekend would not allow me to spend for the entire week freely”

“That’s right Sir, but we have a show…..”

“That’s Ok” , Mr. Rai interrupted.


*************************************************************************************

It was early morning 6 O’ clock and we boarded down the Bangalore station. We bid our farewell to Shweta and Mr. Rai as we walked towards the taxi stand. I wanted to talk to Shweta ones but my guts did not win over my heart because she never turned back to respond my good bye. I was a bit shattered.


“Dude, I gave her my number”

I was pretty surprised…

“When ?”

Sandip tossed his hair with a style

“Remember , I borrowed her Film Fare, while returning her I had jotted down my number on the last page”

I pinched him hard and cursed myself on my sad presence of mind.

“You moron…Bloody you are a pro in wooing girls”


*************************************************************************************

It was 7:30 PM and it was Saturday. I was getting lots of applause from the audience and from my friends for a wonderful piece of Salsa performance. I was euphoric as my friends kept congratulating me again and again.

“Rohit”

“Just a minute”, I answered as about sip the free wine in celebration.

“Rohit”,

I felt a tap on my shoulder and this was not a normal stroke. It was well manicured hand with a tiny piece of pearl sitting on the middle figure.

Yes , it was Shweta… I was surprised as I gave her a very gentle hug.

“Your clue was very obvious Rohit…

Kyra theatre….

Thurdsay…..

7Pm ”

You are not such a jerk dude, as I initially thought”

And I said, “You are very smart and beautiful too”

She blushed as she uncurled her numerically twice dangling strands.

We both then strolled towards the dining lounge waiting for each other to speak.


Trying to break the silence, I asked

“By the way, did you call Sandy?”

“Ohh Sandy , your friend who tried his best to line me?
But I don’t have his number…”

“Hey but he told me he scribbled it in the last page of film fare”

Shweta gave a huge smile and she laughed her heart out as if I cracked a quirky joke. I patted my back for my IMPROVED Sense of humour.

“No wonder my papa had slashed the last page of the Film fare, and I thought he had an hot shot on Mallika Sherwat”

I giggled too…The joke was worth laughing…We then feasted on the best lip smacking dish of the Kyra and the smoothest sparkling Wine.

“By the way, you know something?”

“What ?”

“Your father has a hot shot on Mallika Sherwat?, I can tell you”

“and how do u know?”

“Every men in love does that”

“Youuuu…..”, and she chuckle and giggled, came v close to me and hit me naughtily with the tissue paper….

I gave her the tightest hug of the world

She closed her eyes…

I kissed her…

Sleep 'O Sleep...Come to me

I laze on my couch gazing towards the

sky. This star, that star, every star soothe

my eye ...as I stare the moon half drowned in

azure cloud sailing by and by.

Sleep, O Sleep... come to me !!

Come like an angel softly and slowly. Come

bring some innocent dreams, into my eye.

The night so tender, dark and blue... taps

on my memories of days gone by. Of

friends, of home and my lost toy. Of my

grandmother’s lullaby of bud and butterfly.

Sleep, O Sleep come to me !!

Come like child in the cradle of love and joy

Bring some innocent dreams, in my eye.

The wind so sleepy, the wind so gentle

plz get some sleep nectar from sky. Let

you rest on my hugging eyelashes until the

stars shine and the night die.

Sleep, O sweet sleep, come to me!

Come bring some innocent dreams and

spread in my half closed eyes.

Sun O ' Sun

Sun O’ sun!!!
Hiding behind the tree, hanging in the endless sky, you
smile incessantly bidding moon good bye. Hugging
high cliffs you kiss a tiny pearl on the snow, as it
crackle to life and starts to glow. Sun O’ Sun you
then sprint in the limitless sky towards the azure
blue sea, splashing your color , tossing on water
careless and free. You then tryst a captain on your
nautical embark, who then rings the bell , beaconing
the morning mark.

Sun O’ sun!!!
As you caress your spark on the cold
reckless rock, the lizards crawl to the surface
as the ants yawn and flock. As u then clamber
the trees and twirl to its top with zest, sparrows
chirp with joy and pops out of their sleepy nest.
Sun O’ sun as u then gallop towards village as the
farmers wake, children jump with ecstasy and dive
into the chilling lake. You then with your dusty rays
enter my room by window ceiling. My mom yells at me!
Kim, Wakeup… Wake up its Morning!!!

The moment bid...

So special it is, a feeling, a closeness,

a strange touch of yours. A little far but

very near, away just by a breath of yours. Is

it conspiracy of time or cupid restless need ?

My lips sense yours is what the moments bid ...

Like the melodious wind, your words cast

a spell. Like a falling hairs of yours, you make

my insanity fell. The night’s dark and the

moment so sensuous ,what else lover need ?

A touch of yours, a kiss, is what moments bid ...

Come, come my sweetz, let your modesty

melt in my embrace. Let your body burn and

and let my heartbeat chase. You blossom in

me and I shower the season of spring u need.

We be one, forever in love is what moments bid ...
.

O mY PrEtTy PeETtY bOy !

I was leafing through my memories and this is what it came... This is one of my older composistion and the inspiration was my friends feeling for someone...


Hey my pretty pretty boy, my sweet love,
its midnight here, am lost in your world...
Of times we danced, of times we fought,
of times we avoided but our glances caught...
Of times I pulled your hair and you my nose
and when I cried, you gave me a Sorry rose...

Come, come my sweet love, I wait for you
Come so close like morning petals and dew...
I lay down cuddling your thoughts at night,
Lost in the dance when you held me tight...
You are pretty pretty boy of my dreams
like my cuppy cake, milk shakes and ice cream...

Being so near to you, yet we are so far,
like the moon, light years away from star...
I miss you sweetz, I miss you night and day,
Like the fragrance without a rose can't stay...
Deep in your heart I know you got my clue,
That O my pretty pretty boy, how much I love you...

Siah and Sam...( A Love story)

Perhaps I was the only one who could see Siah in just one piece towel that recklessly wrapped lower half her body. Her body was totally smudged with sands of Calangute and the black kohl that rimmed her eyes had spread over her cheeks notoriously while she worked hard trying to make castle with the sand on one lazy evening. She religiously spent her Sunday evenings with her aristocratic dad who owned a big motel in the heart of Goa. And when the lingering twilight of the evening would fade into the ocean, she would go to the nearby church to offer her obeisance and then prayer to the almighty Lord who had stole her mother away just as she first chucked her leg into this ephemeral world.

"Hello boy!" a voice summoned me, a voice that seemed to be fading into the evening sea breeze.

But I was lost in sporting Frisbee that would artistically come back to me after hurling it into the air. I had learnt this art from my father who would daily come to the beaches of Calangute and practice this sport.

"Hello ….hello boy …can't you see my Tower of Eiffel?"

and I felt a push on my shoulder, I barged backward and Frisbee I just tossed, returned and hit my nose. I collapsed down and my knees started bleeding mildly and my nose turned red like tomato and I started crying.
When I opened one of my eyes squinting through the tears on my eyelids everything appeared blurred for ones. I rubbed my eyes with my fingers for a clear view and found my daddy, a cute little girl and a man with sunglasses and bearded cheeks trying to console me singing lullaby as I was a kid of 2 years.
I felt bad as I always wanted to grow up fast like my well built daddy, ride bike with matchless celerity and drink glasses of cold drink which my daddy used to classify as drinks for big people.

Nevertheless I got up, dusted sand from my body and touched the blood on my knees. I felt the pain as I gasped and whined, "Aaaah"…

"I am Sorry friend, had I not pushed you, you would have stamped my tower"

When I looked up I saw her leaning on her knees and her gaze fixed on my bleeding wound.

"I am very sorry friend", she confessed again as her father nudged her shoulder.

"It's ok", I reciprocated her with a disgusting "OK" as I drove back to my house with daddy.

*********************

Well this was how I met Siah for the first time. The clock kept rolling on and I kept thinking of Siah, penning down every pastime with her trying to relive those mushy and naughty moments of our old days. Perhaps what could be the best ever gift for her on her nineteenth birthday than a memoir of our lovely pastimes? Her birthday was truly special. It was a day when a soul descended from heaven just because someone was waiting for her, a soul that made someone happiness bloom like a fresh flower and soul that made my life complete. She came in like rain drops in my life, like an oasis in my parched heart. Parched because I had just my father at my stride. My mother passed away when I was just six month old in a gory car accident. Soon after me and Siah met for the first time on the beach, our parents became friends and I often rambled to her house and she to mine. We grew up together playing with the same toy train, scrapping on the same slate and sharing the same bench in the classroom. Initially her demeanor appeared very slender and bony. Our classmates used to tease her for her skinny appearance calling "a coconut tree" and she used to shed her tears in my bosom. I used to then fight for her like a macho man and sometimes with 5 six guys n gals at a time posing like an action hero and when I defeated them she used to flash a soothing smile and thank you kiss me on my cheek. Always…
Many springs descended. I kept fighting for her and she kept bidding me thank you kisses. We played. We cracked jokes and I kept giving her favorite midnight beauty ice cream. Time rolled and rolled. We grew. I developed a small thread of mustache and standing streak of beard at my chin which she kept pulling it playfully. But as she grew, her beauty kept budding like a sensual flower with lovely petals and matchless curves. Now every girl looked her with an awe and ever guy with fantasy. But she was only mine and I was hers. Something which was never told. It was a silence which spoke more than words. It was a communication understood between her hearts but never said. Never ever…

"Excuse me", I summoned the waiter.

"Another can of beer and I am not sitting on your bike"

"It's just another can, Siaaaah, Come on!”, I pleaded

"O Sam, This words of your just makes me weak…" she said almost softly taking a sip of her vodka.”

"Which words dear?"

"It's juuuuz.. annather ther can Siaaah…",she said making faces.

"You beerish freak ...Sam.…I just cannot resist it…..but Sam u need to cut down on beer...ok?"

"Ohhhh'…I smiled looking at her eyes as she mischievously pulled my beard again. I gulped the can of beer on the rocks and she finished her favorite vodka. We then drove.

I tilted the side mirror of my Avenger to see her. She looked beautiful as her hairs were swirling with the wind and her eyes half closed defying the fast moving air due to the swiftness of my bike.

"Saaaaam?”

"yeaaah sweetheart". my voice diffused in the air …

"You...crazy freak....dont look'em me", she said playfully as she stretched her hand and intentionally stood on the bike disappearing herself from the mirror.

"I am not able to see you Siah… juzzz sit down...otherwise...", i said still looking into the mirror.

"othersie what Sam ?"

“Otherwise…”

And I charged on the accelerator as my bike started flying with electrifying alacrity. Things around passed by hazily like the stroke of a painting. The air stormed on our faces .Siah started shouting and when she came down and hugged my chest tight I simmered down bike to its normal pace. I saw her again in the side mirror. Her hairs were in complete disarray and a streak of fear amplified her innocent prettiness. I bid her a flying kiss and she gestured an awkward expression with her cheeks and looked away

“You freak….I hate you… I told you to booze less…right?...Never drive like this when you are high…”

“I am sorry Siah… I am really sorry… But did that make you nervous?”

“You always Sam… When you drink and drive… I really go weak”

“O….I love you Siah”

“Love you too Sam”

I parked my bike as we reached Siah’s house. She invited to me come in as the cloud really got darker and there were chances of possible rain. I went in and as usual her house was beautifully arranged with umpteen antiques and old paintings hanging on the wall. Her room was on the first floor of her duplex house. She unrolled the curtain of window that overlooked the emerald garden outside. Soon it started raining and the climes turned out to be really cold. Her servant brewed a hot coffee for us. We sat together in her room sipping our coffee lost in the sweet nothings of our lives.

“I am really sorry Siah… I dint knew the speed would scare you so much… by the way ,you looked beautiful”, i said soflty.

“Shut up Sam”, she giggled and held my hand tight.

I looked into her eyes that reflected the turquoise rim of my blue glasses. The solitary moment made her look more stunning than ever. An abnormal and an insane silence which I never ever heard before had overridden as we kept looking into each other. Outside the rain started pouring with greater energy. The mischievous rainy breeze made us come closer as she started playing with my beard with a naughtiness that made me breathe heavier. She then closed her eyes. I gingerly held her waist and kissed her lips. It was no more a childhood thank you kiss. That rainy day stole our wisdom and both of us lost our virginity for the first time.

Siah and I never made love again… Why? No one knows. Perhaps no one. No, not because we never met alone. Or maybe I will tell you a little later. But yes, we exchanged a lot of furtive kisses and we enjoyed doing it with a surprise.

Time was tickling fast. It was almost midnight. I looked out of the window before continuing to write down our sweet memories. A gust of cool December breeze then brushed my face…

A gust of cool breeze brushed Siah’s face. Her hair loosened from her short pony tail and her cheeks turned red. GOD! She looked out of the world. It was the month of December. A season of Love making, romance and date in Goa. Jolly Jack was chosen by me as it gave the best panoramic view in the evening when the Sun miles away was blushingly diving into the ocean seeing the romance of the budding couple by the seashores of Candolim beach. And the Jolly jack Shack was simmered with red neon light with acoustic romantic number in background. It was an amazing concoction of ambience. That night we royally drank. I had, I don’t know how many cans of beer while she had a decent pegs of vodka. We then danced together. I held one of her hand closed to my heart and rested the other on her slim waist. Looking into her eyes I swayed her slowly, twirling and twisting her with the perfect lead. She looked sensual in her pink robe that hugged her body closely. We felt each other’s breath in a flawless rhythm and kept dancing closely until it was midnight and all the lights were suddenly turned off except for one shaft of light that beamed on her at the centre of the dance floor. She held her face with sheer surprise as the well rehearsed choir sang her a beautiful birthday song. It was truly a Birthday to remember.

“Happy Birthday Siah”, I whispered holding both of her shoulders.

She gave me a thank you hug and pulled my beard.

I kissed her…

We then drove back. This 18th December night had many reasons to remember. Siah never expected this pleasant surprise ever in her life. She was really ecstatic as she gifted me with torrent of hugs and kisses. My happiness knew no bounds and I dint realize that the speedometer of bike struck 100Kmh and perhaps neither did Siah. We both were high and kept shouting euphorically. The engine roared louder. The countless trees and street lights bounced in a wink as I swerved my bike in a style. The cold air belted my helmet and tiny droplets of water settled on it and perhaps Siah’s eyes too. Feeling the energy I swiveled the accelerator and soon we started floating in the air as Siah cuddled me very closely. The highness of beer and warmth of Siah took me into the world of cloud nine sailing in the caravan of dreams with a beautiful angel. The tree seemed to be lightening, the street light seemed to be dancing leisurely and every moment seemed to pass in frame.

And suddenly everything appeared dark. It was a blind turn. “Shit!!!.....Holy Jesus!”…. I screamed as the world seemed to topple down twice. The road seemed to be on the left and trees on the top. My bike tumbled around ones, twice, thrice and finally on Siah. Blood started flowing from everywhere shedding of skins at several places. I was still having little consciousness. I saw Siah moaning in utter pain with blood oozing out form her forehead and entire body. My heavy bike was lying on her delicate body and she was dying every second but all I could do was stretch my hand and yell for help.

*************************

A cycle of seasons unfolded since then. Today it’s 18th December. I sit on a bench just near her cemetery in an illusive anticipation that Siah would come one day pull my beard and kiss me. I fish out a can of beer which always accompanied my bag. But today I couldn’t drink and perhaps would never. I hurled the beer in air and moaned lying on Siah. I take out my dairy and leaf through the pages where our pastime is carved in immortal letters. I bookmark those pages with fresh lilies that I brought. I turn around. A gust of wind puffed away my cheeks and the pages of my dairy that started fluttering near Siah's immortal body. I kept the diary near siah as I looked her for the last time. With beads of tear in my eyes I walked away...

.

A song of Love...

.

In your eyes that reflects shades of kohl,

.

rest my eyes stealing your nectar divine...

Your suave cheeks that wears black mole,

yearns my kiss, lingering like wetness of wine...

Words from my lips flutter but only for you,

like a bee hums a flower, I love you, I love you...



In your breath that scents the love around,

sinks my breath, forever in an endless time...

Your locks, like the fairies locks are bound,

when loose, cast a magic like a reckless chime...

Glances from my eyes escape but only to see you,

like a ray escapes sun to embrace a morning dew...



In your stride that sways like flowers of spring,

dances with mine in an enchanting tune...

Your voice, like cold showers of summer sing,

drives me insane like a peacock in monsoon...

The air's soft and moonlight teasing but only for you,

like a playful kiss that whispers , I love you, I love you...

.

Desi Murgi aur Korean khana

So, Mr. Ranjan, “What will you love to have?”

“Paaaaaah!!! ………….Whaaaaat did u just tell ?......... LOVE”….

GOD, hunn!………….. ! LOVE again haaaaan, I mulled as I looked at my Korean manager and smiled sheepishly.

I felt little unusual. Because whenever this 4 letter word LOVE bug has come into my life, something unusual is inevitable.

For example,

Last night when my manager told:
“I know Ranjan, you LOVE working late nights”

and all I could do was:

“Hmmmmm……Yeaaaaas…sometimes….”

and my poor ass was on fire the entire night and still was not able to debug the bug as I was still reeling under “While” and “For” loop effect.

Anyways, keeping aside my superstitions, I looked at the menu.

All of a sudden I started feeling more unusual. My eyeballs started rolling like that of starved (vegetarian) cow when served with yummy spicy mutton garnished with flavors of barbecued fish. I was set aback as my Korean manager smilingly waited for me to order something. Nevertheless, seeking for some solace I ran my eyes left to right, up to down and rolled round and round on the menu card like kid trying to read a book…
The menu read something like this: (Some of decent ones which I can remember)

Crispy aromatic duck,
Barbecued spare beefs,
Deep fried spare prawns in sweet sour sauce,
Deep fried butterfly king prawns
Kuang paao chin beef
Mu shu Chu sin pork
Half baked half raw boneless pork
(With pieces of barbecued dog)
Shrimp Crab meat fried rice
Sliced duck with chow chow
The raw sliced fish dipped in sauce
Hot and sweet spring pork.

………………………………………………
………………………………………………
………………………………………………

I kept hunting for a single blade of grass and went on frantically reading menus left to right, up to down and leafed through many pages until deep bottom of the last page I found…Finally…..Aaaaaaaah !!!

Lu Hon Chu vegetable chow mien…..
Bingo!!! And I raised my thumb slowly! Yeaaaaas!!!

This was like an Oasis in a desert and chow mien happens to be my favorite dish… I rejoiced!!!
I took deep a sigh of relief again like a tired athlete who just finished his race…. Finally I found something I could eat. I raised my chin to my manger in pride and ordered my all time favorite vegetable chow mien.

I wonder how he was still smiling and looking me…… awaiting my response. (What a jack ass he looked)

and I said:
“Mr. Yun Chu Naa, I would like to have a Lu Hon Chu vegetable chow mien”

Yun Chun Naa was the name of my Korean Manager. What a weird name naaa…isn’t it? Let’s call him Naa in this blog. What say?

After waiting for about 10 minutes, all dishes were neatly served on our tables except for mine.

I kept waiting…

and waiting….

and waiting…

and waiting…

and I kept looking at others…
It seems this made Mr. Naa feel a little awkward. He looked at me

once….

twice….

thrice… but I kept waiting and when he couldn’t resist, he finally chipped in:

Mr. Naa: So! Mr. Ranjan… Do you pray something in mind before eating? I heard a lot of Indians do that.

Me: No, I...I mean yes, I do…but I am not doing it right now. (With a tinge of surprise on my face)

Mr. Naa: Then why don’t you start eating your dish please?

I was little surprised (as If when my dish would have been served why would I have kept looking at his sadu Korean face where u cannot distinguish whether it’s a line or it’s his eyes…dumbo he!!!)

and I said:“I am waiting for it served Sir”

Mr. Naa: But it’s already served.

Tossing a plate towards me laden with some non vegetarian, which seemed to me like leg pieces of some creature, were nicely decorated on some noodles in a circular fashion.

and he said,

Mr. Naa: Here it is Mr. Ranjan (and he raised the plate towards me.)

(Mr. Naaaaaa….. Screaaaaaammmmmmmm……ufff …No…Don’t do this to me….Its bloody non veg dish…Mr. Naa…. Na na na na Naa re Naa re Naa re… Na na na na Naa re Naa re Naa … …I am a Hindu Brahman u fool)

Me: Mr. Naa…I am sorry Sir but I ordered for Lu Hon Chu vegetable chow mien. I stressed on the word vegetarian. I guess it’s a non vegetarian dish Sir.

Mr. Naa: yeah, that’s what it is, Lu Hon Chu vegetable chow mien which you ordered.

Saaaale, U Maaadar….Faaadar…cant u see pieces of non veggies on it.

Me: But it seems it’s smudged with non-veg pieces and its gravy.

Anyways, I thought of showing him what I ordered.

I fling the Menu book from the table and leafed on the last page and here it was:
Lu Hon Chu vegetable chow mien.

As I was about to show him…I just wanted to give a close read to it ones again… I brought it a little more closer, I found something written below it. I squinted my eyes and the after I read what was written my eyes started raising my eyebrows and my mouth opened in an O shape.

It was:
Lu Hon Chu vegetable chow mien.
(Topped with chicken sticks and hot gravy)
And to be more precise it was under Vegetarian section.

Hmmm...Implies chicken is considered to be vegetarian here in Korea. Ooo Maa GOD!!! But Miss Suba in Class five taught me Vegetarian comes from vegetation….Holy crap! Miss Suba…. Tune mujhe le dooba…I wondered chicken comes from which vegetation?

And I kept thinking….10 seconds passed….

Perhaps they must be growing chicken tree….yes? 'ooooooooor No?

O shit!!! What logic…Ehhh!...30 seconds paased

Rajan… say something …aabe kuch to bol….

but what ? and 60 seconds passed….

They gonaa fire me now….yesterday the bug and today food….

O’ come on….tell him that u don’t like chicken….120 seconds passed….

And finally after 2 mins….I released something…..all of a sudden….

Me: Sir, I am sorry but I don’t like chicken, for we Indians chicken is a non vegetarian.

Mr. Naa: Aaaaaaan I see… Noooo problem…. (In his typical Korean accent)

Naaaa you are a problem … (I mused) and now you have put me under problem. Now I realized why we Indian people chant “Mera Bharat Mahan”

Mr. Naa: Would u like to have some salads I hope that’s what a complete vegetarian we get here.

(After discussing with the waiter….)

Mr. Naa: What would you have A battered tofu salad? Or deep fried tofu salad?

Now hearing the word tofu, my heart and mind started playing Kun fu. Mind said…Be proactive and my heart said just go for it. After all it’s just a salad (ghaas phoos yaar). I was under chaotic catch 22 situation because learning when chicken is under vegetarian category in this damn bizarre land made my head reeled twice. And moreover tofu? What the heck this word meant? I dint had much time to think and I was child ones again. I finally tried to eliminate one by sheer luck and I chanted in my mind.

Inky Pinky Ponky,

My father bought a donkey.

Donkey died, father cried.

Inky Pinky Ponky!

Ummm… Deep Fried tofu salad
and verdict was over. Deep Fried tofu salad had won the bout.

(and with a broken voice)
Me: Sir I would like to have a deep fried tofu salad.

Finally the ever devouring deep fried tofu salad was royally served on my lunch table and without wasting much time I started gulping it morsel by morsel when suddenly I felt little unusual again. Ohh No!! Not again! I whispered. Something bizarre struck my teeth again!!! F**k…what got stuck ?

and after scrutinizing the salad by my fork I found a thread like white kind of element spread all over. I whispered into my friend’s ear who happened to be my colleague from India. He tasted it and said.

“Bro, its pork”

“Whaaaaat ? I said”

Yeahh!! It’s PORK !

IT'S PATHETIC, I retaliated and puked in a tissue napkin.

PUKED !!! What the hell I did just now…did I puke?...Holy shit! Salle tu to gaya….kal ke saare bugs bhi adhoore….aur aaj tune puke kar diya nigode ?No bugs and no food…Maccha, they gonaa fire men now….what to do….what to do…Inky pinky ponky …My boss is a donkey….O man even Inky Pinky is not working now….God save me now !!!

and just after a while without much thought I said,

“Excuse me Mr. Naa, I am sorry but I would not be able to eat”

“Why”, he said

“Sir I have a personal problem which I couldn’t tell you”

“Don’t worry, I will help you… Tell me?”

“Sir…I …I…Sir I …….”

“Yeah….speak out…Don’t worry…”

“Sir, I have a running ass” ...

The ballad of a King and Spiritual horse

Amidst the lush woods of a hamlet
in an auspicious full moon night.
Arrived a hermit with a horse,
a horse, that was magical and white.

And as he rode by the road,
he decided to take some rest.
The King then with disdainful bow,
offered him a cottage as guest.

The hermit very wise and humble
smiled and slept in peace, all night.
On a floor without a cot he slept
and woke up until next morrow light.

“O majestic one, the king you are”,
said hermit, his voice very low.
“Ask for a benediction, you like,
and I shall grant you, for sure”.

“O Kind one, the hermit you are”,
said the king , his head held high.
“Grant me, the white magical horse
and I shall remember you till I die.”

“Amen”, uttered hermit, with a balm.
“Chant Thank God, and the horse gallops.
Chant Thank God again for faster gait
and chanting “Save me” ,the horse stops”.

Without gratitude, he laughed at hermit.
His chin held high, he leapt on the horse.
Thank God he shouted and Thanks God again
and the horse trotted without any remorse.

Felt the king brave and excited,
ran the religious horse with pledge.
For he wanted to reach before dawn,
afar from village, the mountain edge.

Thank God, Thank God, Thank God
and Thank God chanted the king.
Under sky and amid trees it flew,
like horse that had magical wing.

Under the blazing sun he rode,
with celerity , towards the cliff
But Alas! Forgot he the other word,
to stop the horse stand stiff.

Stricken with panic, the king shouted,
“Thank God , Thank God”, as the only words
and the horse only galloped with more pace.
But Alas! Thank God only he remembered.

He prayed to God at hour of need
as he was riding on the death’s floor.
Riding, he reached very near to cliff.
The distance to it was just meters four.

Closing his eyes, obliviously he cried
“Save me , Save me , O lord”.
And hearing this, the other mantra,
the spiritual horse, there and then paused.

And when the king let his eyes opened,
he found at the cliff the horse was paused.
But Alas !with a breath of relief, he sighed again,
“Thank God, Thank God, O lord”.

Villanelle to a Weekend

Rejoice my soul! This scintillating evening,
Shout my heart! Shout your way out.
Coz’ its weekend time of rolling and rocking.

Drink and chase the highest kite sailing,
In the sky, dive tipsy and go round about.
Rejoice my soul! This scintillating evening.

Dance your body like none is watching,
Move them in and move them out
Coz’ its weekend time of rolling and rocking.

Wear the enthuse gears and lets go driving,
On starry night, singing throughout.
Rejoice my soul! This scintillating evening.

No office, no work and no waking up in morning
It’s time for fun, for frolic and freak-out
Coz’ its weekend again of rolling and rocking.

Party, hard before next week trudging
Who cares for the Monday workout
Coz’ its weekend time of rolling and rocking.
So, rejoice my soul! This scintillating evening.

The lost child

A dainty child lost in a village fair, parted
from his millionaire parents, sobs for help.
His redden eyes lost in despair,
hankers for solace, but to no avail.
His Lilliputian steps strive to
transcend the segregation
as his soul is daunted and body
whelmed with tears of frustration.

Then there is this class of men,
who commemorates on the child agony,
without pulling him to succour.
There heart is full of apathy.
The world stands on a side and they the other.
They freeze their passion
“Who cares, let the child cry!!”,
so solitary is their emotion.

There is another class of men,
who is touched by child’s hysteria, overwhelmed
by sympathy, they approach the child
and console him with toys and fantasia.
Oblivious by the child’s real pain,
they make futile endeavour
and after squandering some time in vain
they abandon the child as ever.

There is yet another kind of soul, replete with
mercy he embraces the child by heart.
He scouts the original cause and
figures out the stray child’s opulent past,
He then shows the child to his original home,
And when the lost child sees his parents at last,
Flooded by ecstasy, hugs his parents to bosom.