Lands

In a faraway land where the grass is green, I see my destination. I walk for days and pray for nights to reach the green. When I do, I never sleep. I smell the grass for hours, and collect its velvet in my hands. I look at it with satisfaction and close my eyes to see if I can have a better imagination. I know I cant, so I jump up and run, away from the green grass towards a parched brown land to yearn for green.

In a close by land where man is happy, I see my lover. I hold myself back for days and ignore my intention for nights before I give in. When I do, I never sleep. I torture myself with constant action and throw myself blindly in the air and wait for the fall. Unfortunately, I never fall. I go on flying higher still, passing by confusions, clarity, joy, emptiness to reach nowhere real but a state of comfort. From here I look ahead at the green patch where I always wanted to be.

In a land whose distance from me in unknown, I see conclusion. I stay ignorant for days and see it coming for nights, and myself moving towards it. When I will reach, I don't think that I will ever sleep. I will fall flat on this land reminiscing the smell of green and the sight of my lover, breathing fully the beauty of this place I saw coming. I will not run to any parched patches, neither will I fly into comfort. I will fall flat on this land and I will then be unconscious .

While I think of this land, I find my body running down some unknown waterfalls. My skin is touching water for the first time, teaching my mind to be wet.

Every man must live a life where he has touched the water, wants to see the green and knows how it is to have a lover.

-Shringi

September 23, 2011

Thirty One

(15 September)

Today, a friend of mine, Vikas turned 31.

(18th September)

Sorry, I have been busy. This is still dedicated to you!

I used to write an year back too and Vikas was a dear friend then as well, but 'thirty' never amazed me, that figure I knew very well. Thirty one is one more than what I know.

There was a helper at our home who used to maintain our kitchen garden when I was in primary school. This man used to carefully divide the land into rows, each row of a certain length.

I wondered how many seeds would each row take and on a day asked him. He said 15 on one side of a row, my little mind quickly calculated how many seeds would then be sown on both the sides. I was satisfied and so was he for the first thirty seeds. I never wondered where would the thirty first go.

The thirty first seed, I guess went to a new row or got discarded. Maybe, the counting always stopped at 30 and begun afresh at 31.

Vikas, like other people has traits than can be divided into categories, easily two. A part of him is silent, somber, intelligent and thoughtful and the other is vibrant, funny, illogical and also foolish.

I always thought these were equal and knew that would stay so till 30. 15 of him like one and the other 15 like another. Now, that he is 31, I wonder which of him will become heavier, I hope for the later. On second thoughts, will a new side branch which shall play a role in defining Vikas when he is 45.

Whatever it is, I think I will be there to see. I will update this post when Vikas turns 46.

I wish you the best in life.

- Shringi

18, September 2011

There were smaller incidents

Janaab dutifully entered a big white room full of fresh flowers randomly scattered on the floor. A small flight of marble stairs led to this empty room which smelt more of people than of flowers. In it had come many men and women unknown to each other and from it had left many others.

Janaab was the man who would decorate the room once again like a bride. He looked thoughtfully at the colors on the floor and the patterns they could make. Unlike all days, he lied down in the middle of the flowers, his head touching a few yellow ones and his feet crushing a few red ones. He thought of the many days and many years he had lived in these; how the flowers changed every day and how with them had he.

This room was one of the guest rooms of his employer, Raja.

Janaab thought -

"These strangers - roses

These strangers, I come to

The red petals, commanding

Their helplessness makes me weak

The smells tire me

The colors make me old

They were beautiful when they were young

Now, they wear masks of youth

and arrive everyday

They are no more fresh than I am

I can step on them

and refuse their art

I can sleep on them

and let them lay underneath me."

Janaab stretched his legs crushing a few red roses. He felt free of the many years he had lived, he felt liberated and light.

The smells got together and attacked his rebellion, Janaab shifted and in a while the room was decorated with more beauty than it ever was.

Shringi

September 11, 2011

dedicated to the short-lived rebellion in us.

Kept.

In an old notebook

I see, pasted childhood

cut in squares

She would jump out of the window

on a pile of collected old leaves.

There she would sit and read her fairy tales book.

The notebook now smells of kept mud

of memories that don't have endings

of time, that wears no stamp.

She would extend the stories in the book

and bring them to herself

under that window, she would greet the characters

she read

These squares look to be colored with paints and innocence

They must have had a story each when they were pasted

Now they have conclusions,

under layers of dust.

She would stay there till late

till the sky would change shades and force her outside the book

into deep imaginations.

She each day pasted a square in her notebook, painted it in the color of her day.

Today, each of these squares are windows

I would jump from, into a pile of old collected leaves.

Into faintly different moments, but amongst the same leaves.

-Shringi

September 10, 2011

It can't get any louder.

There were three friends, Fer, Fudd and Foong. They lived in the honest village of Glad and read in a local school, Happy.

Fer was short and fat.

Fudd was short and sad.

Foong was tall and fat.

Their favorite game was Boblethon. The rules of the game were simple. They had to dig holes in the ground and throw stones in each other's holes. At the end of an hour whoever had the maximum amount of emptiness in the holes would win the game. Foong always won. This made Fudd sadder.

One day when Fer was digging a hole, he found a small golden rat sitting in it. As he started to shout and call his friends to show his find, the golden rat said, "Hi Fer, I am Fith, the golden rat. I stay under the ground of Glad and I have many sons and daughters, not all of my children are golden. Today since you have found me, I shall help you win Boblethon. I will eat all the stones that your friends throw in the holes you dig, please make sure that you dig all your holes close by. I am doing this because I am good."

Fer did as told and easily won the game. Fer was winning for the first time, this made Foong suspicious and Fudd less sad. When they were leaving Fer peeped into the hole to thank Fith who now was a little fatter with the stones in his tummy. Fith said,"I am glad that you are happy. Whenever you need my help, dig beside the yellow pillar at the entrance of Happy in Glad and whisper your need." Fer smiled.

Now on whenever they planned to play, Fer quickly dug a hole where asked and whispered his desire to win the game. Fith always helped Fer win. Foong's curiosity faded, he accepted that Fer was better than him at the game. Fudd was as sad as he always was. He never won the game.

With each passing game Fith became fatter and fatter. Soon there was a huge golden Fith residing under the village of Glad. The villager's found gold wherever they dug, but nobody ever touched it as the villagers of Glad were too honest and this they considered as stealth. In little time rumors of gold under Glad spread in neighboring villages, Incomplete and Uncomfortable. The villagers of Incomplete and Uncomfortable started migrating to Glad and their kids started going to Happy.

Fer was scared that someday some immigrant would find Fith; to ensure that there were no more migrations Fer thought the only way was to introduce gold under Incomplete and Uncomfortable as well. For this Fer needed to play Boblethon for hours and days. Foong and Fudd no more wanted to play Boblethon for they always lost and there now were many new kids who came to Glad with many new games.

Fer played Boblethon alone. He asked Fith to make him win and threw stones in his own holes.

Shringi

September 09, 2011