Thursday, June 9, 2011

Girls like me.

I just got bored trying to find a picture of a okay-looking girl with short hair. Adjust. -_-


-         Random is the word. That explains THE us and the post. Sorry. :) -

We still think that smoking and drinking is totally uncool.  We don’t see why we should be stuck with a guy irrespective of the amount of physical or emotional investment made in him if he doesn’t treat us right. A real man still opens the door of the car, holds the hand while walking – along the beach, while shopping, just standing, anywhere.

Virtual world is real. Sometimes more real than the real real. Socializing is cool. Cool until you start poking your nose into the lives of all my friends. And at times, it would do a great deal to fiercely bang your head with an iron rod to remind that the equation to ‘Us’ was you and me; not you and her. <supresses urge to say something further here>

We try something contemporary. Trendy dresses. Shades(?) Stuff. We  can be quite clumsy and mess it up more often than not. Dresses in light shades never manage to return to the washing machine in the same shade. Changes range from light brown to deep black. Never really eat an ice-gola without spilling enough of the colourful liquid all over us. Never find the right way to open a burger with the right side on top. Never figure out how to use the teeth to open a ketchup packet.

We could be suckers for something very silly. A drink. A chocolate. A colour. Varies. A song could make us cry and a rainbow, 6-coloured ones with the indigo missing (knowing winks at the special person) especially, wipe ‘em all away. Somewhere deep inside, we have a secret side that wishes to explicitly express itself to people we encounter – say what exactly we think of them. And there’s the other side that tirelessly fans out the tension and the electricity – if you get it.

Makeup never really finds the right reach in us. We killed it to a painful death long back when we were in our primary school. We always have something in us that not many people get to know. We sing, dance, mimic, draw, paint. We open up rarely and when we do, it comes out in a gush. If you’ve heard it, you’re staying alright. But pushing yourself away on your own doesn’t count in the calculation.

Your ‘inconsequential’ things can upset us a lot. Pay attention. Or get lost. The independent streak runs thick. The money factor can curl us up. Spending money NOT equal to impressing. Awkward. Just sitting next to each other in silence and still feeling perfectly comfortable is bliss.

Books mean a lot. The smell from old books. *wide smile* Photographs for memories. Scribbling random stuff next to them. Scrap books. Signatures. Having fun, dancing, jumping and screaming without giving a damn if anyone is noticing. Travelling. Absolutely enjoying the music and nodding the head along to match the beats while on a ride – bus, bike, car, anywhere. Genuinely believing that somehow, something will be better tomorrow.

Probably, there have been a lot of men. Probably there will be a lot more. But right now, if you’re in it, then we think that that is all that counts. Honest. Even a handshake might take a long time to come, but you know that we have our heads attached firmly to the senses.

Trying to ground us with accusations, past, pointing to mistakes and the likes never work. NEVER. We might flinch once. Next time, you’d come home to see the empty broken cage. Words can come flaring in. But there won’t be double-faced gimmicks.

We’d keep giving. Moments. Surprises. Love. Memories. They’re unending as long as you know how to – wait, no; not return it – receive it.

But once in a while, we could say a thing or two that’ll make your day and what we say would be specially intended for you and you only. And when that smile curves your lips, there can’t be a happier soul than the me standing in front of you and the ‘I love you’ that follows would have never had a genuine-er version. Isn’t that okay

P.s: I know that quite a few of you are thinking that I sound a lot like Linda Goodman. Honestly, right now, I think so too, although I really did not intend this to turn out to be like that. Fact is, I enjoyed doing what I did. And in the end, I figured nothing matters more.

If you have somehow reached here, congratulations! :D And good luck. I might decide to write a sequel to this. :P

Until again..

~ Just Someone.

[Photography Courtesy: THE Boss.]

Thursday, June 2, 2011

Death by happiness.

Taken via Nokia N8


Dedicated: :)


I wasn’t sure what I was thinking about when I’d asked him if we could go to the beach at 4 in the morning. I did claim that I had wanted a photo walk there. It would be a wonderful chance for him to click a lot of pictures and rant about it. Well, I honestly did. And, I wanted to do it for the first time with him. After giving the idea enough thought, I realized that it would be brilliant if I could see the sun ‘rise’ with him. 

After a good flopped attempt at making this happen, we finalized on the date for the second try. I woke up 6 minutes late, despite my favourite song singing endlessly as the alarm tune. Just as I took the phone in my hand, he called me and woke me up. That should have been the indicator of the day ahead for me – EVERYTHING unusual. I showered and put on a casual shirt looked into the mirror. I could’ve easily passed off as the dead walking.

After about 20 minutes, I was standing at the gate of my apartment and he came. Without a word, I hopped on to the bike and off he zoomed. My hair was still wet from the bath and the cold morning air hit my face. I could feel the moisture on my head cooling off with the wind and the feeling was out of the world. The chill air stung my sleepless eyes and for some mad reason, I was smiling a lot. To myself.

Usually, when I am on the bike with him and we pass by a place that holds a memory for me, I end up giving the history and geography of the spot. For the first time ever, silence weaved itself through me entirely. I wanted to be quiet. To just silently absorb in every detail of the roads we were riding through. Or maybe, all I could think of was the time of the day it was, the cold wind, the bike, the man and my hand gripping his shoulder.

After about 30 minutes, I could see the beach visualize inch by inch. The early birds walking with sticks and wives, the bikes, the cement slabs, the sand and the waves. He picked up his camera and switched it on. It beeped: Change battery. Swearing a little and hyping a lot, he walked beside me as I could barely control myself from rushing into the water.

I stood by the shore, the waves softly lapping my feet. It was still dark. And as I stood there, the sky slowly kept turning a different shade every minute. The pink blush set in first with an orange tinge developing slowly. I could see the horizon appear and as far as my eye could see, there was plain, pure water. The waves dancing away and jumping on each other, trying to rush to me. It felt as though time was transporting me across the plains and I was standing in the middle of the sea. A sense of ulterior calmness washed through me and in a long, long time, I felt a peaceful silence take the centre stage within.

I looked back at him. He sat on a plank, carefully avoiding the water and still looking a little grumpy about the camera. HOW could someone NOT stand by the waves after coming to the beach. It always beats me. I came and sat next to him and suddenly realized that it was all bright. The sun seemed to be nowhere in sight and he kept demanding to see it. Like I was hiding it inside my pocket.

About 15 minutes later, he points in a direction and says, ‘Ha, finally the bloody bugger comes!’ I look and see a small ball of orange flames emerging slowly. That, I am sure was the widest smile I’d managed to put on naturally. I was seeing the sun ‘rise’ with him!

He spoke about random things. My mind was still on the silent mode. I was just listening. We decided to leave at about 7 and as we walked back to the cement slabs, I sat down to put my sandals on. He spoke about some girl in his life.

I remembered Nikhil after a long, long time. Somehow, I felt the urge to tell his story. When I was in my 2nd std. Wearing a pink sleeveless and the white shorts. And how he had tried to kiss me and how I failed to understand what he was trying to do and kept trying to push him away. Weirdly, I still remember the combined smell of chocos and milk that hung about him, and how much I hated it back then.

Talking about it made me realize that I had opened up that story to someone for the first time. And it began. We spoke. And spoke. And spoke. Endlessly. The sun and the heat brought us back to reality and we drove back, had a tea and went to the park. We switched benches thrice. Only, the topics didn’t seem to cease. I was opening up my entire life history, and the guy told me his. One thing that touched me about it – it was honest.

After a few more hours and one more drink, he dropped me home. I literally skipped my way while walking. Strangely, I had spun myself around this guy. It made total sense and gave no insecurity to talk so openly about all the men in my life. Well, not all. Still. The wall clock at home said that it was close to 11. And I stood there, amazed, and wondered how he had tolerated me so long. Six hours! Easily, the best of my life.

Time plays a crucial role in our lives. Time in the duration sense. Time in a span sense. Time in every sense. How long it happens or when it happens. Or when it could have happened. And how very different it would have been! Pun intended.

The next time I think of 4 o’ clock in the morning, go to the beach, hear someone talk about the sunrise, go for an early morning ride or feel the wind wash against my wet hair, you know what I’ll be thinking of.


P.s: To contact the author, try searching behind all the curtains, sofas and beneath desks and tables. She’s hiding somewhere, scared if someone will slap across her face and claim all of it to have been a wishful dream. #deathbyhappiness

~ Just Someone.