Coffee.....

“Just black, no sugar” Zohra turned around. She hadn’t heard this voice in 10 years. Her mind went back to when she had been 18 and had met the 35 yr old Aslam, a widely acclaimed writer...long hair, black framed glasses, ragged jeans, the personification of all stereotypes. Even his black coffee had been so “adult” so “serious”. She had been enthralled but soon disillusion had set in. He spent hours locked inside his own mind, thinking… writing…creating and she was shut out. Many a mornings the empty coffee cups were the only indicators that Aslam had been home. Even his black coffee irritated her...it was so “pretentious!!” She had grown out of him. Looking at him now she wished…

The Color Green

she asked “the color green..

to you what does it mean?”

ohh honey honey

it’s the color of money

freshly minted bills of green

spell success I said with a gleam

“oh do they?? she said

what about the weeping willows on our river bed?”

they are fine as they are

they don’t put food in my belly or gas in my car

I will have them cut and get the woods clean

And I will bring in bundles of a different green

“They have been here for many generation”

She said with a horrified expression

And they did what good?

Cut them down I definitely would

There’s only one color green my honey

And thats the color of money!!

Bhartiya Rail Ki General Bogi

Bharitye rail ki general bogie

Apne jheli to zaroor hogi?

Ek din hamara bhi number aaya,

Jab general bogie ne humko bulaya

Chad gaye le kar hari ka naam-

Raksha karma hey bhagwan

Kisi ne maari kohni kisi ne dhakka lagaya

Finally bogie ke beecho beech khud ko paya

Wahan ka nazaara tha sabse alag

Lagta tha maano machhli bzaar ho ekdum sajag

Makhiyoon ki bhinbhinat si thi sabki awaaz

Bhinn bhinn the sur pahiyyon ka tha saaz

“abbey dikhta nahi kya” “bhrasth hai sarkar”

“saala kameena kahin ka” kahin thi baatein kahin takraar

WORDS....

The words just hung there….cruel, hard and cold....like icicles. They stared at each other, two strangers married for 6 years. He couldn’t believe she had said the “D” word…neither could she....it had been reverberating in her mind for some time now but to actually have spoken it aloud!! She groped in her mind to grasp at the times when the words had been softer, when the feelings behind the words had been of love and not bitterness and anger. But those times seemed so elusive…they were there somewhere but hovering out of reach. If she could just reach out…touch them….she would wrap them around her…for warmth….for comfort….if only she could find them… maybe this nightmare would be over…

The Red Ball

The Red Ball

Kisna was very happy today. It was the end of his 4 month long wait. His Baba had finally bought the shiny red big plastic ball. Bishan could not decide which was shinier..his son’s eyes or the ball!! They sparkled so..it filled him with such a sense of achievement..he had brought this sparkle to his son’s eyes after all. It hadn’t been easy for Bishan to buy that ball, it had cost a full Rs 25.

They lived under a bridge, on the footpath along a busy road. Kisna was born here and had seen all the fancy shiny cars whiz by, had grown seeing rich people riding in those cars. Sometimes the cars would stop at the traffic light and Kisna would run to them. Never to beg but to look inside, to get a glimpse of "their" world and with his child like sensibilities he had always known it was not meant for him.

So when his demand came it was all the more surprising. In all his 5 years Kisna had never once asked for anything from "their" world but now he wanted "the ball"..the red shiny big plastic ball he had seen in the long black car. If the kid inside could have it, he wanted it too, weren't all of us from the same God as amma always said?? He will eat only 1 roti the whole day..wont that save enough money to buy the ball?? Bishan was helpless in front of such innocent logic and such determination only a child can show.

He had gone to the store and was told the price...a full Rs25. He quickly calculated, from the odd jobs he and his wife could find they made about Rs 30-40 on good days and about Rs 10-15 on bad ones. Rs 15 went everyday to the local police guy for the space under the bridge. Or was he the local goon, well he could never tell the difference. On the good days they ate almost 3 times a day which left them with nothing or maybe a Rupee or two. Hmmmm this way he would never be able to buy that ball for Kisna!! He will have to find extra work and maybe all of them will have to forgo one meal...maybe then Kisna himself would give up his demand. That was a sound plan. So they worked harder, scrimped and saved and Kisna never gave up on his demand...he just got more obsessed with it.

It took Bishan 4 months to finally come up with Rs 25..his wife had been upset. Why buy a stupid ball when you can get a warm blanket??

But finally Kisna had his dream ball. "amma see how red it is" he was running around with it barely able to hold the ball in his small hands. "Baba look how it shines" "your eyes shine brighter Kissu". Kisna jumped with joy and finally decided to let the ball bounce on the dirty earth. How he squealed with delight. Seeing him so happy Parvati could no longer grudge the ball either. They looked and smiled at each other in parental bliss and turned towards their many chores.

All around them the world went on as as usual. Today the screaming honking cars did not bother Bishan so much. From the corner of his eye, around the streetlight pole he saw the ball bounce by. For a moment the world stood still and then it all became a blur. In a blink of an eye the big red ball was on the other side of the road and Kisna in the middle. And Bishan could not decide which was redder...the ball or his Kisna's body.

WIND

The wind carries more than we can see

A little bit of this and a little bit of that

And it carries what makes you and me

Telling stories of men from the times gone by

Of great heroes, loves and wars

Of dying people yet a new born’s cry

It carries the many secrets of lovers

Whispered words of forbidden trysts

Gently caressing it flutters and hovers

It carries within it the wisdom of old

Passing in a rustle or in a deadly blast

It can be life’s warmth or death’s cold

The wind hides more than we can know

But with all this weight of the world it carries

I wonder how it ever manages to blow!!