the old ventilator nest

a thousand palaces we may roam,

be it ever so humble... there's no place like home



recently we moved to a new address. my dad has a transferable job and the dead line to vacate was drawing mighty close. I am not very excited about the new place. attachment to the old lanes of the colony, my childhood fellow pranksters, the old house itself is driving me nuts. the new house is some 15 kms away but already I have visited my older address a dozen times no less. I just stand and stare. in holidays we have time to squander. so be it. the old house remains in shambles... It looks like a world war remnant. dirt covers the floor. A sense of emptiness had already started engulfing it long before we left . The old place was a government quarter. Over the ages, the bricks had turned black owing to the mosses. the veneer of paint had withered ...

I had a connection with the colony. though I studied in a boarding school, still some memories have cemented themselves in inaccessible recesses. cricket matches on the ground, the sparrow nest on the ventilator ( though I really never liked the chirping of the fledglings , much) , the staircase ( where we took to the nooks while playing hide and seek... where the bombs were exploded so that one particular uncle especially got annoyed... ),the wind which banged the windows and doors so much that my mother and me always feared that the day the doors and the windows gave in to the reckless wind ; we would be blown away... the mini-functions of republic and independence days where I never got any prizes for coming last ( I ain't any goddamn runner!!!)....

just some days back when the vacating date was 2 or 3 days due, I noticed that mom was clearing up the mess left over after destruction of a nest... I thought that the oldest nest on planet earth had finally succumbed to my mother's relentless frustration..." ahh if my old house goes, so does yours mrs. sparrow... "... I couldn't restrain myself from asking her as to how on earth could she do that...?? a nest can be plundered, ok...but the fledglings?? were they flung out of their nests to die a crashing death...?? my eyes were not in the mood of accepting a silent answer that day. I would be honest enough to admit two facts:

1) probably the first time I had felt that gloomy for anyone so inconspicuous from my life as the sparrows...

2) I had dared to think that of all the persons on earth, my mom could subject the birdies to such pillage.

mother just said , " a new nest should better be broken than seeing a full-fledged one vanish due to loneliness".

evidently a pair of mynas had managed to creep in through the crevices of the crashed window and had just started collecting twigs and straw etc... the ventilator guys had left... the nest lay abandoned. I am tempted to think that they had a premonition that we were about to leave the place... I have no scientific facts to back me but I am happy with my foolish conjecture. Science would take time to rob me of this joy... the pleasure I get from thinking that the sparrows couldn't stand us going...

wet memories

I lost two wonderful friends to the sea this year. for all their robustness and good hearts they couldn't battle with the waves and.. no poem.. no pile of words can lessen the acute pain all of us felt and still feel whenever their names bristle through our minds.I may write a million corny lines but still a loss would remain a loss..a void in life never gets filled.

I was viewing vibhor's album on orkut &I saw RABI and DAVID's snap. It pricked my conscience; this poem is not written by me. this is written by their divine grace. just see the calmness and innocence on their faces... lets all pray not for them..for they don't need our prayers..they already are blessed ones.. pray for ourselves so that we don't forget them ever..we are human..we are the victims of amnesia..keep smiling you two..amen..


friends of may
........................................

two friends lost their way
on a shimmering summer day
they loved, they played on the heap of hay
they made memories baked in the sun of may...

they grew old and they went weak
many mays passed and so did weeks
the tales untold did whisper
their playgrounds and toys did end in a whimper...

and coins they amassed ,they jingled
and death knells?? ah they lingered...
the friends of may ended their stay
could death do them apart?? ah nay!!

the two souls from may still do play
under the sun on a holiday
the two souls still amble in the park
they still do their jig on the lilt of the lark...

when the swing swirls in tandem
and the sheep are chased at random
I know the two souls are at their play
the two lovely souls ; born and dead in may...


( I wrote this in MAY.. coins : friends
death knells: memories and their souvenirs)

HISTRIONICS

when people said that cricket is a game of uncertainties, I always chuckled. but beliefs if held very firmly tend to slip away like a handful of sand tightly clutched in our fist. In Vidyapith , our lovely alma mater, the duration of play time was notoriously measly. never did my playful self end up being satisfied after a round of play. like all guys, I wanted to push the game to another level but time always got the better of me. it left me defeated. you were poised to win; the whistle would blow. or if you were making a comeback , it would be time and you would have to call it a day. that was utterly frustrating.

cricket in vidyapith was a big affair. some very good rivalries gave us some very good memories. I still remember
1) SG's thunderbolts,
2) ANUPAM running around the field when hit while the bruise showed itself on his bare skin ( remember him playing shirtless). HE was a wonderful batsman.
3)SG showing his dissatisfaction over the quality of a branded bat after he had hit a four
4)MANI hitting it all over the bowler's head in A team.
5) VIBHOR hitting the shots of his life. Ahh we were in presence of grace!!!
6) myself hitting NISHANT for two consecutive sixes, sweeping DADI ... sometimes fluke is remembered.
7) SHUBH hitting a six of a full toss in a 9-10 match.
8) PRITAM playing the innings of his life in a tournament match. I had seldom seen someone playing that well in A team.
9)VIVEK with a hankie wrapped around his wrist.....and taking some good catches.
10)ANUPAM and SG went to fetch a new ball. after some solid discussion ( seeing the seam and weight and what not!!!) they zeroed on "the lucky" ball. the play resumed but soon came to a screeching halt because the ball had turned oval after one delivery!!
11) but the memory which stands out... which reaffirms my faith in the adage "IMPOSSIBLE IS NOTHING" is that match behind gymnasium where Keshav got hit for a six of his last ball. no prizes for guessing , the batsman was his holy highness SHRI SHRI VIVEK THAKUR himself.

before that fateful over which made Keshav immortal for all the wrong reasons , he was the most economical of all bowlers that day. 1 ball was left and 7 runs were needed. Keshav gave a wide ball. last ball and 6 runs. sheer impossibility had made me shrug my shoulders ( I was on the other end). keshav bowled; Vivek swirled his bat with brute force .The Rest is history.

the journey begins...

I went to a boarding school after much tussle between my parents. After an exposition of his supreme convincing capabilities, my father finally managed to take my mother in his confidence (with his notion of putting me there for a good purpose). So here we were in midst of a marquee hoisted to host the wards and parents. The lot of my would-be classmates seemed to be a sorry looking heap (except for the one, well…). Every one of us was being cuddled by our mothers. The atmosphere must have been similar to the scene of soldiers and sailors setting off for an unknown land. Tears trickled down. Boys were sobbing. The pleading for toys, bi-cycles, comics etc. had all subsided. Let’s say these went into a hiatus never to resurface again. All that we wanted then was to somehow forestall our admissions and head home. Who wants to leave a kingdom and be a hermit??

We were allotted guides (who had already went through the ordeal and lets say had come out clean. accustomed to schedule, tuned to confinement...Ahh the tamers of the childhood wishes!!). Counseling was tipped to begin 9 am onwards and our flock of bleating kiddos was busy praying that the clocks stopped ticking. We were not ready to reconcile ourselves to the fact that we were about to be stripped bare of all our might. I remember seeing some older guys getting caned for playing extra time; an odd minute extra after playtime and they were taken to task. Hell!! There was a restriction even on our playing tenure...what else does a kid know best??

But the destiny was all chalked out for me. Sometimes there's not much we can do. Let me also add that sometimes we must not do anything purposefully and should let fate play its cards. Had I not resigned to my fate then...my story would have been commonplace. Choices we make shape our life-stories.

So these guides (acting sagacious) took my parents for a walk around my school esp. the dormitories (the dormitory turf presented a sorry scene as compared to bright-as-a -crazy diamond floor of my house). A clutter of clothes lay in the verandah. The washer man was supposed to pack the hillock and wash the clothes pearly white at his place. He hadn't turned up. The guys in the hostel were jumping on the cloth-hill and their exultations were almost audible from miles. My mom looked a bit apprehensive but I felt reassured.

And so with my batch of nervous nitwits I made up my mind to get admitted. I had not known then what extraordinary turn of events was lined up for me.

I still remember myself sobbing and looking over the boundary wall for the disappearing torsos of my parents....my eyes followed the vehicle till it faded into oblivion. That sense of loss...we seldom feel. But as I turned my back to my past, a queer character gave me the warmest hug I have ever got. He seemed happy and relieved to think that now he would be on his own...and I looked at him with teary eyes. My eyes were betraying my helplessness in coming to terms with reality. And this guy!! The shameless worm… was laughing; all teeth-out… Friends that fate hurls at you!!

How we got along and how together we weaved a saga that made us the stuffs of students-lore. Ahh, it’s a long story… but I am here to recount. And I will gradually unfold my life… my strife…