The Price of Compassion

Ramu wiped the sweat from his brow as he pedalled the rickshaw through the dusty roads, dodging potholes, dogs and the occasional car. His thoughts were occupied with the pressing problem of sending money back to his home in a far flung, impoverished village. His fields had not seen rain in over three years, his parched lands refusing to grow even a blade of grass now. It had been months since he'd had enough money to go home to see his wife and baby. Till a year back, he'd had a decent enough living as a vegetable vendor in the Big City. But his stall, like many others, had been snatched away in a "development drive". And he'd now been reduced to pedalling his way to save peddling himself away instead. Bitterness filled his heart, and he cursed his fate.

"Bhaiya, do you have change for a fifty", his sawari, a petite girl with kind eyes and a high, lilting voice, asked him. Ramu grunted, in a mixture of refusal and incredulity. "Where will I get change for fifty from?I have barely enough to pay the rent for this damned rickshaw and fill my stomach." The girl looked at him with sadness in his eyes, and genuine sympathy filled her voice, "I'm sorry. Why don't you keep this note. It seems like you need it more than I do." She opened her purse, and selected a fifty rupee note from a bundle of notes within. She handed it to him with a smile, and walked towards an alley, presumably a short-cut to her room on the other side.

Ramu looked incredulously at the note. It was the most he'd earned in one go since he'd started plying his rickshaw, and he was touched by the girl's gesture. But even as his heart filled with gratitude, his mind filled with the vision of a purse full of crisp notes - those notes could get him home, back to his impoverished village and family, they could give him a second chance at life... a chance he needed desperately. His fields were beckoning him, his wife and child had a future to look forward to... He might just be able to wrangle a bit of his land back from the zamindar he was indebted to and start work on them again...he'd heard of a new scheme to get water to his village, something the local neta had promised them the last time he'd gone home. He might just be able to coax some life out of the parched soil.. he could see his crop stirring in the wind, the barley rippling like gold...

His hunger gnawed at his insides, his utter dejection and hopelessness given a spark of light, his whole being yearned to be free of the abject poverty of his freedom, mind and soul as much as his basic needs of food, shelter and clothing.

His desperation had now reached a fever pitch. He looked wildly at the girl, walking away from him. He crept off his rickshaw, and ran blindly behind her. He saw the fright in her eyes as he snatched her purse from her hands. She started to scream for help, but he caught her throat before that, her flailing hands spurring him to tighten his grip on her neck. Her fight for life, pitched against his very fibre of survival, stood no chance at all. She went limp in his hands, and as he ran away from her, he could see the marks on her neck where hid fingers had cruelly bit into her flesh...

He ducked and darted across dark alleys and narrow sideroads, avoiding the light as much as he could. He chose a secluded garbage dump to count his pickings from the purse. He opened it to find a bunch of notes, a picture of a family of four, some loose change and a perfumed handkerchief. As he allowed himself to catch his breath, his eyes wandered to the photo. His eyes picked out his sawari, her mother who looked remarkably like her, her little sister in pigtails, and her father. Her mother had the same compassionate eyes as her, and as he looked closely, he recognised her as the woman who'd delivered his baby last year....

He was shocked by the discovery of a link between him and the girl he'd murdered. He had taken the life of the child of the woman who'd helped bring his own child to the world. All at once, he smelt the sweet perfume of the girl wafting on a gentle breeze. He sat up, looking left and right, as if she would jump out at him from behind a rotting dump pile. Her gentle eyes seemed to mock him from the photo, and in a rage he tore it up into little pieces. The tattered bits flew all over the place in the breeze, and made him madder.

By now, he had realised the enormity of what he'd done, and his conscience was tearing him apart. What had seemed like a new lease to life, had now become a blood soaked noose which was making it difficult for him to breathe. His eyes filled with tears, as his desperation gave way to a futile regret. He could not believe what he'd done, and yet the crisp notes clutched in his hands were evidence of his crime...

Ramu stood on the bridge. He could see the murky waters of the Yamuna flowing below. The rains had been good enough here at least, if not in his village, and the river was ebbing and rising ominously. He thought about his bit of land, his wife, his child..and the girl whose life he'd ended to start his own. He opened his fist, and the wind picked the money off his palm immediately. As he fell, welcoming his death, he saw her gentle eyes, forgiving him...

The Night of the Storm

A slight breeze blew,
Rippling the surface of the deep blue vastness
A faint stirring within grew
As a thousand raindrops beat a tattoo restless

Slowly, surely windy now
No faint stirring, but churnings abound
Relentlessly beating about the brow
A shower of hails hail the stormy storm

Crests of waves, formed white and high
Foaming, seething, wildly seeking
The ocean breaking in moans and sighs
The musky gale now faster, shrieking

The eye of the storm appears
In its inky blackness is salvation true
Not yet exhausted, but the pinnacle nears
Taut is every nerve and sinew

And at its peak, silence is all
Pure bliss achieved, euphoria floods
The last crescent waves gently fall
And the sun rises... red as blood.


Do not ask me why I wrote this... I did it just like that...

I had a good start to my day today.

I woke up to hear a bird chirupping in front of my window and sunlight streaming in through the glass panes and warming my bare feet... found out I had freshly washed clothes (I love their smell!!) ... had a hot water bath (relishing the steam and the warmth) ... and for the first time in many days, dressed at leisure...

Pankaj gave his "2nd Anniversary" treat today for completing two years in the company. While eating the "Toot the Flute" sundae at Cream Bell, I realised that we were happier at his anniversary than he himself was...

There are some days when the mind is at peace with itself, there is no restlessness, no deadlines to beat, nothing except an encompassing and fulfilling tranquility... I have never had such days.
Any love that does not have friendship as its base is like a mansion built upon sand....

And mine is built upon a foundation that will stand the test of time forever more... because he's my best friend...

When Ashu went senti :)

Not too long back (yesterday, to be precise), Ashu scared the wits out of me when he went senti and threw this poem at me (something he picked up from the net)

An echo fades into the night,
an eerie mournful sound.
A shooting star disappears from sight,
and I crumble to the ground.
There is no life within this garden;
my sobs are the only sound.
You have poisoned the honeyed fountain
where your love could be found.

Dazed, I stare at the stars above,
my grieving howls fill the night!
Unintended betrayal of friendship
has hidden you from my sight.
I remember how it used to be
when we shared our fears and delights.
You were a treasured friend to me.
Nothing can make things right?

Feeling afraid, cold and lonely,I
long to tell you how I feel,
but I don’t want to hear you.
The pain for me is much too real.
Should I back away and build a wall
and block away how I feel?
Or, should I give you a call?
We both need some time to heal.

An echo fades into the night
as our friendship disappears.
How do I know what is right?
How can I ease my fears?
If I do call you again,
would the old wounds reappear?
I can’t stand to cause you pain.
Hurting you again is my worst fear!

She sees...

As I stood outside my flat today morning, balancing a half eaten sandwich in one hand and trying to single handedly lock my door with the other, I saw a pair of twinkling stars looking up at me from behind my neighbour's net door. I paused and was met by a pair of large, luminous pair of eyes. My neighbour's tiny granddaughter, Bhoomi, was at her station...

Every morning as I rush out of my flat, she's there to see me doing my balancing act and tripping down the stairs. Her eyes are two of the most beautiful I've ever seen. They're huge, and full of an innocence that is the prerogative of childhood. They behold the world with wonder, yearning to see as much of it as possible from behind a net. Her black eyes observe everything keenly, absorbing like a sponge, learning rapidly. She already knows a smile will get her a pat or a kiss, and she loves being fondled. She knows that by making her eyes spew out water at strategic moments, she can get almost anything from her doting grandma.

Its probably a good thing the net shields Bhoomi... both from tumbling down the stairs, as well as from a lot of things those eyes shouldn't be subjected to see - a dead puppy just outside the colony gate, an irritated father shoving his toddler out of his way in his haste to leave for work, people going about their daily routines like robots, unmindful of Life unfolding all around them..

Bhoomi probably has a very small world right now - her grandpa's house where she spends her days, the veranda from where she waves at cows, her soft cot where she peacefully dreams of ice-creams and weird girls juggling sandwiches. But her world will soon grow, her horizons will expand to encompass people and places beyond family and home.

I hope she'll always be full of wonder, enchanted by nature and Life. I hope she won't grow up before she has to, won't lose her innocence under peer pressure and the diktats of the society. I hope she will always look at me with that look of hers that says "How does she manage to eat that crumpled sandwich? And why doesn't she ever wake up on time?"

I've been Celled!!!

I saw a bunch of bright red flowers today. Nothing unusual in that, except that on this particular day, the first thought to cross my mind was that my spanking new cell has 65,000 colours, and a brilliant enough resolution to make each of those shades stand out separately.

It all started when I decided to trade in my "Old Retainer"-esque, ancient-beyond-words, now out of production Nokia "Made for India" torchlight handset (whew!! That was a long sentence!). I zeroed in on a sleek new slim cellphone that I saw in the mall one day. The guy at the mobile store proudly told me "Accesories?? Well, you get a battery and charger free!!" . A bit befuddled at this,I almost dropped the idea of buying it.But giddy with newly earned money, and armed with a debit card with a lot of balance to its credit, I took the plunge (aided by Sourav, who talked me into buying it) and bought it....

Apart from the "free battery and charger, madam!", it came equipped with a slim leather pouch (the cell refused to fit into it at first... then refused to come out when a call came in) and a handsfree set (I kept holding it with my hand for fear of letting it fall).

And that's how I was "Celled".

"'re on camera" read the board right at the entrance of the foodcourt at Sahara Mall. "Yeah well, you'd better smile too ... coz I have a 2MP cam that can capture every one of your wrinkles at 8X zoom" I smirked. My companions gave me a few weird looks, but passed it off as one of my usual idiosyncrasies (or eccentricities), as I whipped out my phone and clicked the "hidden" camera's pic with my unhidden one.

"Could you please stop recording your voice for the n-th time???" my exasperated roommate pleaded. "Why?? With a voice recorder that can record upto 1 hour of conversation, I can sing at least 8 songs. Oh, by the way, this conversation's being recorded. Oh, and also... Say cheese!!"

My gang and I have been spending the past few days taking arbit pics at the office, and exploring its features. Someone discovered a Sudoko in some folder ( I've been trying to locate it since then... damn multi-folder-system!). There's Bluetooth connectivity and I accidentally latched on to somebody's laptop in the vicinity ( hope he never finds out it was me!!).

Technologically challenged as I am, I nevertheless feel good about my new cell...

Now, if only I could get the alarm to shut off every morning....

In Purse-uit of Happinez

At the very outset, let me tell you that this is going to be one disjointed piece, coz I'm going to be writing it at different points of don't try to find connections anywhere...

There is this ice-cream parlour in Roorkee called Happinez which serves fundoo ice cream sundaes, shakes and soda on a student's budget (which is tight on the purse-strings). And now that I look back on those carefree days, when all we worried about was if anyone had enough money to pull us through the month, I realise that in our bid to fill our purses, we've abandoned our pursuit for happiness.

"Corporate life" is not as much about life as it is about the corporates.You work your ass off like an ass for someone who's sitting 3000 miles away, and all you have to show for it is a bank balance that's unbalanced your life. There's no time to do anything with the money they give you anyway...

As it turns out, my team mates are max enthu about me joining them. They have major plans for me- which include going out for "regular lunches" (no prizes for guessing who the sponsor's gonna be) which they say is a "tradition"(I'm sure it has started with me!!!) , "active involvement" in the work, "career growth" by shoving a load of work on me and so on and so forth. There's a major project right round the corner, and I've already been told to pack my suitcases and be ready to shift into the office for a fortnight at the very least. All in all, my life's going to be thrown out of gear. I am seriously considering shifting into the office and saving on the rent I'm paying for my flat.... you observe here again how the purse has entered the pursuit of happiness...

At this juncture, for no particular reason I am reminded of a quote I read somewhere,

"Life is like a box of hand grenades.. you never know which one will blow you to kingdom come!!"

Yet another day...

Don't blame me for sounding disspirited. I'm down with a viral infection, the AC's too cold, and Ashu has taken the headphones away... I have no work of particular interest to keep me going and let me assure you that singing aloud is not appreciated much at the workplace....

Ho hum....

Diet C(h)oke

Ashu has started jogging.... and is suddenly calorie conscious. Caught him counting calories in one Perk (80) and a luscious bit of chocolate cake we were munching in the office (he chose to discard the cream!!). It reminded me of the time I went on a diet...

There was this one phase when everybody's teasing me about my weight issues got too heavy for me to handle. I decided to go on a diet. And that meant sacrificing my daily dose of chilled Frappe and KitKat as well.. the one thing that kept me going through the day....

It was a tough battle between my will and my wants, my feet on firm ground and freshly ground coffee beans..... I had to shake the temptation to have a milkshake, blow the froth of frappe away and choke the chocolate.... It was a constant wearing down of my resolutions as I watched my nearest and dearest coming too near with my dear goodies.... Sitting at Nesky was a daily torture, and yet as a moth is drawn to the flame, so was I drawn to the counter at Nesky, watching Bhaiya fill cup after cup with chilled, foamy Frappe and delicously cool ice tea, while all the while biting my lower lip and keeping my hand tied behind my back to stop me from putting it into my purse.... Bhaiya knew my plight , and looked at me with sorrowful eyes ( it sure hurts when a regular customer goes on a diet- monetary or physical!!).... Friends encouraged me (all the while sipping from their cups) and gave assurances as to the outcome ("You're looking thin already")....

And as I sat, tired, dejected, disappointed and disspirited, I heard a voice close to me..."You still look beautiful"... I turned around, ready to give the speaker a 10 frappe mega treat...only to realise it wasn't me who was being addressed, and in the process got a cold stare from the couple coochiecooing on the bench behind mine....but what the hell, I do still look beautiful!!!

And so ended my diet on the spot...

Hey, round is a shape!!!

All Work And All Play...

Its been ages since I wrote anything..the reasons being too many and too boring to elaborate.Its been two weeks since I started my job.. my first job ever..and in these two weeks I've learnt a lot...

Training Thoughts:

17 of us joined together.. mostly IITians, that select brand of individuals who know every trick in the book to evade work. The company people are still trying their best to try n get us to work, and are actually succeeding!!! A constant bombardment of exercises and assignments apart, the added incentive of getting chocolates for our work is slowly beginning to hit home (Home is where the heart is, and an IITian's heart is in her/his stomach...q.e.d.) .

We had a presentation the other day... 5 of us in a group.While 3 dedicated members made slides and tables and charts, the other 2 (Abhinav n me) sat back and watched while they worked ( I personally believe I'm of most help when I'm not trying to help). So obviously the two of us had to give the final presentation. In true IITian style, we gave an absolutely sponty, arbit presentation, with most of our conclusions made up on the spot, arguments and validations following the same way. And surprise surprise, we actually bagged the best presentation prize (chocs again!!).

Just goes to show, all you really need to know about work, you learn in an IIT ( by not doing it).

Cab Cribs:

"Arre, she never informs us yaar.This wont do"
"Yeah, I mean we can't keep waiting for her always"
" Arre madam doesnt call me even in the evening..I have to keep waiting for her in front of the office!!!"
" Lets leave her"
"Haan haan, chalo lets go off"
"Bhaiya, cool down... Radio chalao, city bajao"

While 2 cabmates (and driver bhaiya with his inputs) decide whether to leave the 5th member, D tries to pacify them.. and I silently observe the spectacle and am reminded of hyenas, who reportedly leave their sick , injured and lazy pack mates behind to be devoured by wolves (or was it jackal... can't remember... anyways its beside the point which animal it is!!) .The 5th finally appears in front of her house, where we'd been waiting for quite some time, and immediately ticks us off for blowing the horn too loudly. 1 and 2 pounce on her, 5 fights back. Its a close call, with yowls and yelps, screeches and meows. D and I try to pretend we're part of the car's upholstery, and driver bhaiya seems to be enjoying himself.The battle ends when 5's office is reached and she is deposited there (a little scratched but otherwise safe) .1 and 2 crib all the way to our office, with bhaiya adding fuel to the (slightly) subsided fire. D tries to cool things down, and I still pretend I'm a cushion....

Cat fights and cab fights have much in common!

Birthday Bumps:

It was the company's 4th anniversary a few days back.They gave us all the same kind of shirts to wear on the big day. The Big Day was marked with balloons, and balloon sized people ( very few... me not included) who could not quite fit into the shirts. We made a merry spectacle, 200 of us wearing similar shirts and pouring into one office from every direction. A seething mass of blue we were, all waiting for the cake to be cut, ready to start stuffing ourselves as soon as decency allowed us to. V kept up a constant commentary on the situation, having been ditched by a certain balloon who'd promised to get her a shirt, and kept us all in splits. Abhinav committed the faux pas of the day by asking a certain High-Up if the tiny tots seen munching on cake were his grandchildren. He was cordially informed the tots were "my children".... we have asked Abhinav to give us a farewell party before he's kicked out. As Atul pointed out, the company can "terminate your services at any point of time, without any reasons furnished". And this was more than a reason to "terminate services"!!!! Golgappas and paapdi were the dishes of the day... followed by an animated and gross discussion on chicken tikka and the consumption of flesh and blood. Needless to say by the end of the discussion, the golgappas sat quite uncomfortably in my stomach...

V felt "different". It wasn' t that she was was just that the rest of us looked the same.

Of egg jams and other miseries....

OK...lemme tell u right off that I am not in my senses.So anything I write here is to be considered as the rantings of a demented mind and treated as such.


End sems have started and the social hub of IIT-R has suddenly shifted from Nesky-UG to CL ( Central Library, not to be confused with Civil Lines, which is CL in normal days). Everybody who's anybody and their aunt is to be found here at any given time, right from 10 in the morning (early birds, darn them) till midnight (that's when I usually pack up).

Regular visits to Nesky, Alpahar and UG (for "breaks" from intense studying) notwithstanding, the Lib has suddenly become the centre of companionship, camaraderie, friendship and all pervasive love. Those who were enemies all semester, become best buddies when they discover that each has the notes that the other wants. Everybody is in the same soup as everyone else, and this banishes any hard feelings haboured against humanity. There's nothing more satisfying than seeing your neighbour with his head buried in books, while you sit back and enjoy, coz u have a gap between papers. Your neighbour gets the same satisfaction the next day while you're frantically doing some last minute mugging. All are equal under the vast roof of the Lib when it comes to getting screwed.

The all pervasive love is quite visible in the too-close-for-our-comfort couples snuggling up on the couches, or holding hands under the table, sitting right next to you., while you squirm uncomfortably or develop a crick in your neck from looking in the opposite direction. Love is also what you feel when you suddenly discover that the long-forgotten tute you thought you'd lost forever, is returned to you just in time for the exam by a considerate hostelmate who found the pages flying in the corridor....


Nesky wears a forlorn look these days, what with the harsh summer sunshine not helping its cause. However, at around 12pm and 6pm everyday, Nesky suddenly dorns a festive look again as weary, exhausted students stagger up to the counter for some Frappe or Ice tea to soothe their parched throats and bruised souls after an exam. Nesky waale bhaiya happens to consider me a friend (anybody would if I gave him business worth at least 20 bucks each time , sometimes several times a day) , and confidentially tells me that the last day of any exam is when Nesky earns a bumper profit. I nod my acknowledgement of this fact, while adding another Rs10 to Nesky's coffers....

Another factor prevalent these days is Sentiyaapa. At frequent intervals, without warning, a feeling of sentimentality and nostalgia grips you, and you start reminiscing about the glorious days of past semesters, recalling incidents that happened way back in 1st sem, and are now part of ancient history. For that matter, Nesky Bhaiya isn't one to be left behind, as he gruffly asks me when I'll be leaving, enquires about my job and tells me there will be an ice tea and a chilled frappe waiting for me when I return for the Convo next sem. I'm quite touched and teary eyed by the time I leave the counter, having added another Rs13 to Nesky's account....

Egg-jams for breakfast

Its only on the day of an exam that I have breakfast in the mess. Today, we had kaala chana, bread and tomato sauce. Why tomato sauce was included is a mystery that even the self-proclaimed-ketchup-freak Ash could not fathom. Having chewed a few spoons of chana till my jaws ached and gulped down a glass of hot tea, I started on the long trek to the Department to give the exam. On the way, neither Ash nor I spoke much. Ash wasn't studying on the way for a change, and my jaws were still aching with the chewing effort....


My dissertation is not progressing fact its not progressing at all. My guide seemed to have deserted me in desert of Linear Complementarity with no oasis in sight. I finally managed to pin him down, and have forced my few typed pages upon him. He's promised me he'll look at it today. Lets see if my oasis is finally in sight or if I'm going to be buried in the sandstorm....

Its hot and I'm going off to sleep now...

Tell me why...

You say you dont need to prove anything..
Tell me why am I left looking
for a sign that you love me,
for a gesture to show you care,
for any move you might make towards me
to tell me that you're there?

Tell me why
You make me cry.
My salty tears wetting my cheek,
As I wait for you week after week..
Any news from across the distance
To lift me from this cursed existence...

A life left for me to spend..
A thousand light years long, and no end.
Tell me why I fell in love
Was it written from up above?
Is there no comfort in the darkness?
The night gives me little solace...

I wait for an eternity, an eternity of pain,
Long minutes, stretching into hours again...
Second by second I waste away..
Day turns to night, night to day.
Tell me why I still wait for you
When all I have is a kiss to hold on to....

As yet untitled..

Not a child anymore..
And not yet all grown..
Not as innocent as before..
But a lot is still unknown..

I'm flying now..
Am sailing on my wings..
Flying where I don't know..
New horizons life brings..

A fresh start, with a fresh heart..
Where this road leads is a mystery..
On my own two feet I stand apart..
I'm out to make some history..

Leaving behind a world that's mine..
Of comfort, support and friendliness..
Uncertain, unknown I find..
Is the road that I travel ,of loneliness..

No more known faces,
No smiles or hellos..
I'm going to new places,
Meet people galore..

But as I move out
I feel insecure,
The ones who I love
Aren't there anymore..

Fear and trepidation strike..
The future stares back at me blank..
All the way uphill, it's gonna be a tough hike..
I'll fight my fears, push them back..

For my memories will guide me
Through darkness and strife..
Unseen hands will steer me
Through the mire of life..

And when I finally find my niche
I'll know I've made it through..
With every single word and wish
I'll fly in the sky so blue..

A Twist In The Tale

"Owww..owww...owww...Ouch!!!!" I screamed, quite scaring the wits out of the portly doorman of the hostel. "Take care madamji" he solicitously advised, right after I'd taken a nasty stumble on the steps."Thanks a lot" I mumbled, as I limped inside. The world believes in giving you advice right after you no longer need it.

Needless to say in no time at all my ankle had ballooned to the size of a football, with me being barely able to hop on one foot (the other one, naturally). The news spread to a lot of my friends, whose concern was touching... but kinda got on my nerves (including the twisted ones in my foot) after a while... I present a sample conversation (they were all exactly the same):

Concerned friend: What happened??
Self: I twisted my ankle.
C.F: How??
Self: I fell down the steps.
C.F: How??
Self (am I supposed to demonstrate, I wonder): I thought there were 2 steps... turns out there were 3.
C.F (stifling giggles): Are the steps okay?? (snigger snigger)
Self (stifling a yawn): Oh ha ha ha.

I went to the doc at the campus hospital. She didnt even look at me, but gave me a load of tablets and prescribed a crepe bandage accompanied by a strong smelling cream "to be applied at will". A bit dubious as far as prescriptions go...

To say that the ointment smelt is like saying the Mona Lisa is just a painting (which it is.. but you get the cream of the picture don't you?). Conscientious as I am, I even attended classes that day...and the whole class smelt like an Iodex factory, with crinkled noses showing how my classmates were standing by me while I sat with them. Of course, one good thing about the whole episode was that I "twisted" the doc's advise of "rest and less movement" to justify my sitting in Nesky all day, soaking up the sun as some may put it (owing to the lack of shady benches). I also garnered a lot of sympathy from passers-by, from whom I managed to extract my daily dose of caffeine ( Adi, Saurabh, Gupta n Mo contributed generously to my cause). I am blessed with good friends (touchwood) ....

Basking in the sun, enveloped in a cloud of Relispray and in the attentions of my beloved friends, I realised why people use "Go break a leg!" to mean "go have fun".... coz I sure was having fun having broken mine!! And sure as hell found out how much I mean to my friends... and more importantly.. how much they mean to me...

Ahh.. the twists and turns of Life....

Blogger's Park

In a fitness frenzy (and motivated also by my taunting friends) I decided to start jogging. The nearby sports ground thoughtfully provided for just such an occasion by the Insti gave me all the encouragement I needed. Visualizing myself in a smart track suit, striding effortlessly around the field,I was just waiting to start...

I pulled on (with some difficulty) a pair of fetching track pants borrowed from my much thinner roommate. As it happened, I looked like a stuffed turkey,and quickly discarded the garment for my own comfortably baggy pyjamas. Having worn that,however,it was important to avoid being seen by anyone, which put an immediate end to my plans of early morning jogging.So I waited till the cover of darkness that evening to slip out furtively from the hostel gates, keeping a sharp lookout for known faces.With much difficulty, and using my keen sense of how and when to avoid whom, I reached the hallowed gates of LBS without being recognised...

With much trepidation I went to an isolated corner. Someone once told me its important to warm up before jogging, and so I began to stretch in all directions. I ended up pulling a muscle or two, and gave it up as done for the day. But the track beckoned invitingly, and I took a deep breath and started on my way. A few metres down the track itself found me huffing and puffing, my baggy pyjamas almost on the verge of slipping down,sweat pouring in rivers down my face.I finally staggered (or crawled, can't quite remember...) the last few metres down the track, and slumped down the side of a wall. Too late,I realised that the wall was kind of slimy and I was now covered in a green gunk that was sliding down my back....

Dusty, sweaty and now slimy, I stumbled out of LBS...beyond caring who saw me.Slowly,I reached my hostel, only to be greeted by fresh, clean friends looking smarter than ever, especially when confronted with the Slime Monster a.k.a. me. Faced with the prospect of climbing the two floors to my room, I almost baulked, but the mud and the green wetness oozing out of my clothes gave me the last few ounces of strength.I finally reached my room and emerged a few minutes later having lost some weight (I washed off the dirt and gunk...they added up to a few pounds at least...).The pyjamas and now green tee were in a polythene, to be dumped at the earliest.I crashed on my bed for a few minutes of introspection and motivation. In under 10 seconds, I was asleep and dead to the world...

So much for the Jogger Spark..or jogger's park..or whatever...

The Colour Of Love: Black

She remembered the past... those days of innocent love, the first spring of youth, those moments of passion and longing... the long days of waiting and wanting, and their fulfillment whenever time and fortune permitted... the dreams they had seen through each other's eyes, their life mapped out to perfection... the promises to dedicate their lives to their love, to be there for each other forever, no matter what.... yes, the memories came rushing back to her...

And with them came the pain of betrayal- the betrayal she had gone through ... the blood gushing out from old wounds... now healed, but certainly not forgotten... the guilt, the torture and the shock of being taken for a ride... the shamefulness of it all, her faith being stripped naked by the sheer callousness of the truth being revealed finally... to find out that all she'd believed in was a lie... that whom she had thought her strength was weak and broken... every vision shattered.. even as she watched him walk away with someone else through her tears...yes, the pain came flooding back...

She took a deep breath, but nothing could have prepared her for the final blow... as she saw proof of his betrayal splashed about and celebrated... the pictures of a smiling bride and a proud groom... it could have been her... it should have been her... and yet... it wasn't...she cursed him, and herself, for having given in so completely to him... yes, the tears flowed on...

As she looked into the deep abyss of loneliness... she felt her body go slack...
And as she fell deeper, beyond recall... the colour of her Love was Black.

The Colour Of Love: White

The pain vanished
The agony banished
As she beheld her creation
No flight of her imagination
Could have prepared her for that first touch
That first little cry, the first little lurch
The tears flowed down her cheek unchecked
A princess held in her arms bedecked.
The simple blanket that covered her treasure
Though steeped in poverty, its worth was beyond measure.
She longed no more for herself from now
What little she had, to her child she endowed..
Scrimping and saving, she'd bought beyond her means,
To welcome her girl into a world of sweet dreams
A soft cotton sheet, no more than a piece
Her baby stirred in the gentle breeze
It opened its eyes and looked at its mother
All they had for life was each other

And in the cold,dusty hut that night
The Colour of her Love was White.

Reposted for Verse First on Poets United

The Colour Of Love: Yellow

The golden glow of the setting sun
Fell warm on them, as they stood as one,
Watching the world go from light to darkness
Awaiting the coming of the moon in its starkness;
But before the world turned dark and blue
The setting sun in its vibrant hues,
Fell upon the ripened wheat
Setting fire as far as the eye could see;
No kingly treasure could have held more gleam,
And to him, no sight would more wondrous seem,
As the farmer gazed at his land so proud
The toil, the labour, the hardships didnt count;

The swaying stalks, golden ripe and mellow.....
The colour of his Love was Yellow.

Reposted for Open Link Monday on Imaginary Garden With Real Toads

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