"Abbe, coffee maangi thi, kheer nahi!!!"

I struggle again today. I Shudder. I Stop. I Struggle Again. How much I struggle to empty the taste of morning, quickly getting stale and cold in my cup.

Every morning, the kabhi shehed shehed of my office (no! not in a romantic way! not in the least!), brings me a cup of "Good Morning Puja! Ye aapke liye. Na nahi karne ka. Khaas aapke liye banaake laaya." (Still not a blossoming romance, you pretend cynics, greedily waiting to lap up the first signs of a love story!)

The glass full of kesar milk I had, before leaving home, churns my insides. I look at his hopeful smile. Oh For Pete's sake, you buggers! I am like his daughter and there is definitely no cheeni kum in my coffee! Let me get on with the so-not-a-love-story! So....back to his INNOCENTLY hopeful smile. I look at the tray in his hands. My taste buds wince at the anticipation of the sweetness, as I take a cup and thank him with a smile.

With each painstaking gulp of morning (inching towards noon), I pat my own back for being such a kind person. After all, the kabhi shehed shehed of my office brings me a cup full of morning every day, and I take it. Knowing I am going to hate it, I gulp, just to not disappoint that hopeful smile. So nice I am!

As the day wears on, the kabhi neem neem of my office surround me, swoop down on me, pounce on me and demand their work. I find myself scampering around my office, jabbing away frantically at the keyboard, missing lunch more often than not and being pulled into the dreaded katghara for repeated interrogation. He passes by occasionally then, with a joke or two. This is when I admire

that man with his hopeful smile, holding out his ever-welcoming tray to me. I long for those few relaxed moments when my only struggle is to empty a cup of extra sweet morning.

Life humbles you in so many different ways every day! I take back that pat on my back. I need to see that smile every day. I need to struggle through the generous serving of sugar in my cup. I need to feel that I am such a nice person for not breaking his heart. So do a lot of the others here and in every other place.

And so goes he to every table, with the same ready smile, the same coaxing tray, letting every person do him a favour, filling a little extra sugar in every cup to get through the stings of the bland day ahead. I might be a nice person for those two seconds, but that man is a true man of gold.

It's sad! When the whole world is on your case pounding their fists and demanding "What's the story???", that's when I remember and am grateful for my morning glory...Well, there's a last gulp left. Here's a toast - to My Morning Glory! Who is yours?

Hourglass Martyr

Prelude:
Her tragic pout
pointed
at the Heavens accusingly
She was heavy with grief


Sorrow clung to her bubble
Vain sorrow
like drops hanging
from a cloud aching to rain
Heavier


Her grief got heavier
'Leave, you!' she cried
A few grains slipped away
Obediently


The grains were weighed down obediently
'You, you, all of you
None wants to stay by my side!
Think I don't know?'
She menaced them
through gritted teeth
and tore at her tragic bouffant..


'Flee, flee away from me!'
screamed she
'Don't stay;
Why would you?
Nothing in my world,
Nothing, yes nothing!'
Her outstretched palm
clearing the space for nothing
Obediently


Nothing dawned obediently
'Its EMPTY EMPTY EMPTY!'
she finished,
pout accusing the Heavens
Obediently.
Outstretched palm
casting out the last of the grains..


Poem:
She peered
sadly
at the sand below
miles below her

'Alas!' she sighs 'The glass,
is always fuller on the other side..'

Unrequited Love

It takes all I have and yet isn't mine, has never been and will never be. It demands that all my senses be devoted to it completely and yet eludes me. It demands my best front but projects my worst front before the others; and with the right to do so. It is my thorn and yet the only one for me; but it is the nectar to many other bees.

Writing definitely is my true but unrequited love. And now the pain of a lover makes sense and isn't too dramatic for real life.

They are fools who think love takes responsibility, commitment and the ability to sustain in the face of reality. Love takes much more than that.
It takes madness! Yes! Madness! Ask someone who truly loves and neither rationalizes nor is afraid of what it takes.

Ask someone who knows no other way but to give his all, whether or not he heals every time he is wounded. Writing, I find no solace in return of your slavery and yet in only your slavery lies my solace...And so goes love..

SAC-RO-SANCT - /ˈsakrōˌsaNG(k)t/ : too important or valued to be interfered with!

"The meeting is Sacrosanct!" "Yes Ma'am! We are extremely sorry." The apologies streamed as if by rote. The word Sacrosanct hung like a heavy lazy cloud on their dazed minds. They filed out of the (sacrosanct!) meeting, that didn't end up happening.

Ah! Lets just scamper back quietly and sink behind the horizon of our computers. Nope? Not yet? Another morally offended face to deal with coming our way? okay...fine... "Yes? Where were you? Guys, this meeting is sacrosanct!" SACROSANCT? Again? OH GOOD HEAVENS! What have we done? Why do we feel like we might have committed some contemporary of demolishing a mosque? SACROSANCT! what a word!
We have disobeyed SACROSANCT. The sound of that word perches atop their neck and weighs them down, until they can look no higher than their toes. It follows them like grim punishment following sin.
"You guys missed the meeting? But this meeting is..." 'Wait for it!' "SACROSANCT! This meeting is Sacrosanct."

Again? By now they are dragging their feet back to their desks, like bulls ploughing a field. Then someone occasionally tightens the yoke and cracks the whip on them - SACROSANCT; and their backs hunch a little further and they scurry a bit faster towards the first available computer, like mice towards their hole.

Three writers sit before GOOGLE and direly pray for their turmoil to be answered. 'What is the meaning of Sacrosanct?' For shame! Guys, commenting on this post is SACROSANCT btw!

Accidental Wisdom

Why are crucial moments of life always signified via slow motion in movies? In the moment, when I was hurled off a scooter, toppling in the air and struggling to reach ground, I knew why.
On the way back from Majorda beach to Palolem beach in Goa, my friend lost balance, while riding at a turning on the highway. The most aware I have been of each passing second in my life, those few moments! And yet in twenty one years, it was the first time I realised love in its true sense. I got up, found my friend alive; then removed the grime from my teeth and hair, and checked for wounds. She got up, found me alive; then came close to passing out. Two other friends jumped off a moving scooter to hold us as we fell.

Our mothers generally bring girls up, conditioning them to not ask men for help;always go to women! Men see women in either a derogatory or lustful manner and could look to take advantage of you. Women always understand other women. That night, 'purple' oblivion was clouding my friend's eyes. Colour drained from our eyes, but she couldn't see them or anything else. A crowd of men instantly rushed to our side to help.Our upbringing taught us to fear them and we asked them to go ahead, lying that we would be able to manage. Would we? We would never know. They wouldn't hear of it, as they took our broken scooter back to our hotel and rushed us to the hospital. Here the nurses took us in to tend to us. Tend to us they did, while mumbling away in Konkani (the local language), their disapproval of our clothes and thereby the values of our generation.
I was reminded of the times when we talk in English before our household help, so s/he doesn't understand. So today we were treated as illiterates!
Finally, we returned to the men, who had been waiting outside to reach us back to our hotel.

Judge all, Trust Few, Love fewer they teach us. That day I learnt to Love all, trust few, Judge fewer!

Cheese

Has anything else
So white
so golden, so pure
been known to seduce
the rats of the town
With it's holes?

Oblations

The Dragon spat mantra after insulted mantra. The fire glowered. One of the pale white beings with bloodshot eyes prodded the Child awake. The Child looked terrified at the Dragon, his eyes pleading forgiveness. Did all dragons braid their mane? Haw! He just thought all paap! Will God punish him?
He reluctantly fed the rice to the fire; then the fruits, the ghee, the milk...oh! How his stomach growled deeply! Was that growl like the lion's in National Park? More ghee into the fire! The fire crackled, content. White Mummy with red eyes stroked the Child's head.
"Mummy, just one banana? Please, no? I am hungry!!!" "Shh! God will get angry. I have made puri-sheera and chana for later." Puri and sheera? GROWL! No! No! God will get angry.
The fire burped. Sparks arose and thick black smoke meandered through the house. The Child choked. His eyes started streaming. He began to get up. White Pappa widens his red eyes angrily and holds the Child down. It is holy smoke.It is supposed to enter you and purify your soul. It is good that you are coughing and your eyes are watering. Your paap is being cleaned. Paap? Like lying to your Mummy Pappa, not obeying them, 'back-answering' them, all the things that make you a bad boy.
Cough cough..have I already..cough cough...done a lot of paap? "Not praying to God or thinking about other things while praying or doing puja.." the Dragon was saying. "Is also paap!" White Mummy says getting up. "Then God won't make everything happen all nice-nice for you." She says entering the room with a plate of puri-sheera and chana.
GROWL! GROWL! GROWL!
"Isn't it Panditji?" Ghost Mummy asks. The Dragon smiles and takes the plate from her. They all nod their head as if they secretly know some joke about the Child. The Child rubs his tearing eyes and watches all of them. Then he watches the plate going on the other side of the fire. The fire roars in evil amusement. Cough cough! Eyes still didn't stop burning. Stomach just growled again. Yawn! Oops! Will God get angry now? But..cough cough.. I am sleepy!!! Haw! I am a bad boy! Now God won't make everything happen all nice-nice for me? Cough cough cough cough!
Water is sprinkled on the child and his thoughts have gone poof! He sees the sacred Dragon taking a big bite of the puri and sheera. His eyes are welling up. Not because of the holy smoke this time, is it? Om Shanti Shanti Shanti!