And All That In Between...

On request, the sequel to the previous post. You can find the mirror at http://madscapes.blogspot.com

That Night

Conversation. Dinner. Conversation. Wine. Conversation. Bed.
In that order.
That’s how it was. Eight months of the occasional sparking electricity. Long conversations late into the night. Shared memories.
He’d filled out. Become more him. A tad surer, more mature and definitely quieter. Looking for that spark, he’d stumbled across so many cross connections that it was difficult to find a strong pulse anymore. Yet, that one night had not been forgotten. That one glimpse of what could be was enough to drive him to endless hours of thought, of possibilities, promises and enticing dreams. This time he knew what he wanted. He just wasn’t sure if she’d want it too. And there was no point in risking what could be possibly the best thing that ever happened to either of them, just because they could!
And she’d changed. Gone was that sad half-smile. There was more of her, curvier, more feminine. He watched completely mesmerized, as she walked down the stairs. He could see she had made an effort for him, the effect being pretty dramatic. Definitely much more than what was anticipated!
And watching him watch her was a novel experience indeed! That split second more of a pause, before the welcoming hug, the lingering gaze on the moist lips. But what almost undid here right there was the palm in the small of her back. Lord! It really had been too long, she reminded herself, trying hard to maintain a thin layer of control on a body that seemed to be responding to all that attention by its own self! And it certainly had been getting attention the entire evening! An arm around the shoulder. The casual brushing of hands while handing a glass. The innocent games played with the feet. The fervent shoulder rub that promised a lot. All culminating into the massage, sensuous as it was comforting. Bringing them closer than they’d ever imagined…
The goodbye hug came a lot more naturally as compared to the first. They were much more at ease, now that the night was behind them. Was there enough strength to stare the night in the face or would they live to regret what had been? All questions would have to be answered later, at their own pace. As of now they were at ease. With each other, as well as the world.

Two sides of the same coin

One meeting, two individuals, two points of view:

Part 1:

Sometimes, life deals cards that don’t exist in the 52.

Sometimes the butterfly retains the soul of the butterfly.

It had been a decade. Almost. The city had changed, so had the people in it. The memories were there. Very much so. Yet, they were curling up at the edges, faster than either had anticipated.

They’d met a while ago, in between.  He’d become an older version of his decade-old self. The intelligence. The humor. The sparks that set the air off with unsaid - but imagined - innuendos.  She - well - she had changed. Or rather, had grown up. Into a woman, a person. But the soul was the same. Free-wheeling quietly - yet distinctly - in control. Mellowed. Where volumes were left unspoken in her eyes…

And so they passed an evening. Looking over old, familiar sign posts of memory. Dredging up tidbits to feed the fires that had burned them both. His own scars so visible and hers just about beginning to show that time did indeed heal.

A warm buzz then, enveloped the evening. A tableful of laughter and a memory full of smiles. They sat at the same table slightly set apart by their shared history. What was it then? Some call it the magic of the evening. That moment, when the most spectacularly fabulous idea becomes the almost inevitable.

This was a man - boy, if you will - she’d seen growing up. Snotty nosed and shorts. Petty quarrels and exam papers. School books and homework sheets. They’d never really known each other. Even way back. Yes, they moved in a small world, marked by people and places familiar to both. But other than the occasional conversation of intellectual ideation, they barely knew each other’s world. Or had reason to. She had always been the Quirk. The exception that proved the rule. Except - there were no rules. Life never does, does it? She’d made her own way, pretty much as she used to as a child. A troublesome child. Temperamental. Cerebral. Slightly dangerous. No one was invited inside her world. Well, at least not him. Not then.

So what was it then, that evening, that made these two distant figures, who once shared a common life for six hours a day, five days a week, over 3 years, acknowledge each other as individuals? Chemistry? Age? The Night?

Maybe they’d know the next morning when they woke up. 

Part 2:

It is always all about the coffee

 

It was bound to be strange. I mean, seriously! It was more than a decade since we had met, other than a brief encounter in between. Maybe strange may not be the right word for it. But yes, there was a definite buzz in the air. And whatever one says, things were not the same as they were a decade ago.

Both of us were different from what we knew each other as, but yet at the same time, we had not changed. Both were out of our old caterpillar exoskeletons and emerging as butterflies. The brief encounter had both of us pleasantly surprised (I hope it was both. I for sure was!!). But it was too brief an encounter. Hence the buzz this time, as it was bound to be longer, certainly more time to catch up, to compare notes. And to add, it was probably going to be our last meeting for quite some time too.

The date started off pleasantly enough, at a popular jazz restaurant. As we got talking about the past decade, the catching up was nice and easy. All laughs and giggles all around as harmless and not so harmless gossip was traded. It was as if we were back in the navy blue uniforms, catching up on the who’s who at school.

Then slowly as the alcohol got our tongues loosened up, the darker experiences came out through. Both of us had been handed scars, branded with them for life. Some old and dark, others green and fresh. And at this point in time, both were at a same crossroad. A tad vulnerable, both needing support and caring. And both lonely.

That would have been that. The first meeting for a decade, and the last meeting for a few more years to come. If only it had not been for the invitation to the cup of coffee.

I certainly love my coffee!

Edit 1 : 

Question for all: what follows? ;)

Dedicated to all the Dawgs... and myself

yeh hai meri kahani

khamosh zindagani

sannata keh raha hai

kyun zulm seh raha hai

ek dastaan purani

tanhayi ki zubani

her zakham khil raha hai

kuch mujh se keh raha hai

chubtay kantay yadoon ke daaman say chunta hoon

girti deewaron ke aanchal mai zinda hoon

bass yeh meri kahani

benishaan nishaani

ek darr beh raha hai

kuch mujh se keh raha hai

chubtay kaanten yadoon ke daaman se chunta hoon

girti deewaron ke aanchal mein zinda hoon

bajay pyaar ki shabnum mere gulistaan mein

baraste rehte hain har simt maut ke saye

siyahiyon se ulajh padti hain meri aankhein

koi nahi .. koi bhi nahi jo batlaye

kitni der ujalon ki raah dekhe 

koi nahi hai koi bhi nahi

na pass na durr

yeh pyaar hai

dil ki dharkan

apni chahat ka jo ellan kiye jaati hai

zindagi hai jo jiye jaati hai

khoon k ghoont peay jaati hai

khwaab aankhon se siye jaati hai

ab na koi paas hai

phir bhi ehsaas hai

yahiaon mai uljhi padi

jeene ki ek aas hai

yadoon ka jungle yeh dil

kaanton se jal thal yeh dil

chubtay kaanten yadoon ke daaman se chunta hoon

girti deewaron ke aanchal mein zinda hoon

Aap qatar mein hai

Back after about 6 months, with something I just observed a few days back. In fact it may be something that most of us would have noticed but not really paid attention to.

Late last month, I was in Qatar (the country), on my way home for a short vacation. I had a stopover of about 4 hours, and decided to spend the time at the gate, my Nano plugged in, reading Frederick Forsyth. I finished the book in quick time, and then was just looking around, observing people.

There were about 6-7 flights that were scheduled at that particular gate in those 4 hours. Varying destinations, including Beirut, Jakarta and Damascus. As the time between the flights wasn't too much, there was quite a number of people around, and the seats were pretty full up. However, for all flights, the gate was functioning efficiently, with hardly any stoppages.

Then my flight (to Mumbai) was announced. As soon as Mumbai was heard, the passengers shot out of their seats like Olympic sprinters and in the mater of 5 (or maybe 10) seconds, there was a huge line in front of the gate. And I mean HUGE! It was really funny. Seats empty, and about 100 odd people standing in line at the gate to get in.

Out of curiosity, I just looked around, and at NO other gate, was there such a line. At all other visible gates, it was a maximum of 5-10 standing in queue for boarding. I just timed the process. There were 2 people checking the boarding passes. And each was taking about 20-25 seconds per passenger. So on an average, every minute approx 4 passengers were passing through the gate. And the line was there for 25 odd minutes (which was how I estimated it was around 100 odd people). So basically, the slowest guy out of the blocks, was standing in the queue for 25 minutes before he got in. Instead he could have easily kept sitting in his seat for the 25 minutes, and just walked through the gate once the line is done. Which is what I did, along with a couple other guys.

Strange thing is, I noticed the exact same thing on my way back, at the Delhi international airport. In fact this time it was worse. This time the line was there at the gate BEFORE the flight was even announced!!! And to add to that, I noticed that most of the gates had a line snaking through the aisles. Ditto when I took a flight from Pune to Delhi. Then when I thought back to my previous flights, I realised that this was a common factor in all of them. It was as if Indians had an affinity to forming lines.

In other places, it may be justified, coz the quicker you get to the counter, the quicker you are serviced and get out of there. Or it may be that you get better tickets (as in a movie hall). But here, you already have the boarding pass in your hand, your seat is fixed, and the flight is still a good hour away from take off. So no chance of anything changing if you are the first or last to the gate. And even if one is the first to go through the gate, you anyways have to wait in the plane or the coach for the same amount of time you would wait at the gate! Yet people are ready to stand uncomfortably in the queue for 25 minutes. Why??

A few years back, when Air Deccan and other low cost airlines had launched their service, the phenomenon may well be justified. In those days the seat numbers were not allotted. So the seats were purely on first-come-first-serve basis. But why so when the seats are already allotted? And also, why is this thing seen only amongst Indians? And then they say Indians are not disciplined! :P

Just something that has me stumped! Do observe this the next time you are taking a flight, and let me know if there is any plausible explanation. And also if there is any other race or nationality that does the same thing.

Prologue

This is a attempt at a fiction novel that I started writing last year. Unfortunately, this is as far as I got :(

Hope to go on someday!



PROLOGUE

Rohan

4th May, 2010 10:04 a.m.

It was another typical scorching May morning. As I pulled up at the traffic signal in my car, I could literally see the heat waves come off the tar road. The trees at the side of the road had long become brown and leaves crisp, even though the summer was just about startong. The extreme heat had made everyone’s fuses short, which was evident by the way the scooter behind me was honking his horn. I guess I must have angered him by cutting across him just before the signal. Or may be it was the fact that I was wearing a suit even in this heat. But I just guess that those were the advantages of being successful early in the corporate world. You get to enjoy the good things, and in this weather, nothing that beats an air-conditioned car!

As I adjusted the rear view mirror, my attention was drawn to the bike alongside. A couple was astride it, and it was obvious that they were very much in love. The girl had her chin on his shoulder and was whispering something in his ear. Slowly, a grin spread across his lips, before he turned and answered in her ear. His words sent her into a giggling fit, holding onto him for support. Both were totally oblivious to the fact that I was gazing at them, a stupid smile plastered on my face, thinking about things that were once there.

Some renewed vigorous horning from my friend behind brought me crashing back to reality. I glared at him through my rear-view mirror. All I could see was a faded checked shirt, and a bearded chin peering out of a pearl green coloured old astronaut styled helmet. Looked like a cashier in some bank. But no, that could not be possible. At 10 am, it was too late for any bank official to be riding on the streets. Well, could be a professor then, or maybe a government worker. Anyways the time does not matter to them! I was really trying to be patient, but the incessant horning was beginning to get to me. I really wanted to show him the finger, but did not do so for the fear of him slamming and denting my shiny new bumper.

I just ignored him and turned back to the love-birds alongside. Now the girl had her arms round him and had her head on his shoulder, facing right towards me. She was really pretty, with an aquiline nose, with smooth and clear skin and had a few strands of hair playfully waving in the breeze. And then she opened her eyes. They were a soft and clear brown, and caught my breath. The colour sent pangs of pain in my heart, and I reached inside my jacket pocket and touched the envelope in there. Maybe just to check if it was there. How I wished it was not though. But then it was always there. Everyday. In the same place.

All this time I was looking at the girl. Maybe she noticed it too. She nudged her boy-friend and he looked around at me. Just then, the signal changed to green, and they zoomed off. That was when I noticed the bags slung on their shoulders. “College kids”, I thought. As I put my car into gear, I realised what I just said. Kids??? Come on, it seemed just like the other day when I was in college myself.

Start of a new Era

Finally after months (or maybe even years) of contemplating, dilly-dallying and all that jazz, I finally start off my own blog! It has been a long time since I thought of starting it, but being the lazy oaf that I am, never quite got about doing so.

Actually, blogging is one thing that didnt really catch my fancy. It was just another thing that was there on the web. Didn't follow too many blogs too. In fact till date have just read 4 blogs. The first one belongs to my school friend (find it here), two during my MBA, one that belonged to my batchmate Oka (here), the other that belonged to my ex-DR (or Dorm Rape in WIMWI parlance), Nirav (He would kill me if I put up his dorm name here, and also I do not want my blog to be blocked saying it has adult content before even I begin!). This is his blog here.

But the 4th one is the most important, coz that is what got me to spend this time writing this (when actually i need to be preparing an order for spare parts for the company). That is the blog of the master himself, Sidin. Now if you do not know him, you do not know what you are missing. So get your virtual butt on this link and read it. I have just spent two days going through his entire archive. (Two very productive days if I may add!) And man, is he good!! But then of course he has to be, considering he is from WIMWI ;)

Anyways, little more about me and my blog should suffice for now. You can see my name up there (either on the right or left, depending on which template I would be using). Done my engineering (Yawn!! Did i really?? that seems like my previous life now), followed by an MBA from IIMA (aka the aforementioned WIMWI) and am now working in Kuwait (No, I am NOT a mallu!)

Have started this blog just to jot down my random thoughts as also some general writings. Had taken up writing a few months back, but fell by the way-side. Hope it lasts longer now ;) As Sehwag is inspired by Tendulkar, it may be possible that my blog may look or sound similar to the other blogs I have listed above, but trust me, it will not remain so. After all, Sehwag now has found his niche of how to get out before reaching double figures! I would find mine as well. Till then bear with it.

And yeah, welcome to the roller coaster ride called my life and thoughts :P