doodler, scribbler, dreamer
It was my first year of engineering at BITS. Shruti and I were sitting in my room reflecting and fiddling with a pen and paper. We had a few classes that we very conveniently gussed to enjoy the part-winter part-summer afternoon gorging on Lays potato chips and a few five-stars, chatting about how much our lives had changed since we stepped into this isolated yet truly magical town of Pilani.
The exciting topic of our discussion those days was this new Poetry Club that two of our friends were very keen on starting on campus – with the mission of – “bringing all poetry lovers under one roof”! Enthused that we definitely were every time we talked about it, that day, we both would clearly remember, also unleashed our innocent creativity out of us, as we laughed and penned together this ‘cute’ and absolutely close-to-heart poem. Dedicated to both of us, from the both of us.
Dated: Sometime in Feb, 2004.
The Sky and The Ocean
The sky and the ocean
Share much more than just friendly affection,
Each being other’s reflection
Complemented one another with utmost perfection.
At the horizon when they meet
Their beauty makes hearts skip a beat,
The ardent line of smile they spread around
Leaves everyone spellbound.
Every cloud in the sky
The ocean appraises,
Every wave in the ocean
The sky apprises.
What lies beneath the ocean and above the sky
Deep secrets they share and light moments that fly by,
What makes them laugh, what makes them cry
No one knows, though many try.
And they share a love so eternal
Which is beyond praises so lexical,
They fill everyone’s life with glee
Oh! yes dear, it’s you and me!
Well, what we did after writing this was even more childish! We cycled out of our hostel to show “our” poem to a poet-friend and garner his compliments. His smile said it all, and we beamed with joy! Later that evening we rushed to others too with the poem in our hands like kids running with their pastel-sketches or first paper-planes! Gosh, we really did that, didn’t we!
It marked the beginning of something new – a new feeling, a new outlet to emotions, a new perspective, and a new perception of each other. It still brings back fond memories of our ‘young’ days when all that really mattered was to have extended lunch hours in the mess till the mess-bhaiyas asked us, politely enough, to leave; to cycle around the campus touching every single road; to control that irresistible-talking-phenomenon the night before a test; to sit under our tree till wee hours chatting; to misplacing cycles in Meera Bhawan for the greater good. And ahh, so many more! Kiddish that we really were back then, it nevertheless gave us the adrenaline to go crazy and keep that crazy side of ours alive even now!
Some conversations leave you with thoughts haywire. It happens once in a while; perhaps when you least expect it and yet by the end of it, along with the feeling of being befuddled suddenly you also have a longing to get back and finish the unfinished business. Say what hadn’t been said. Listen to the missing parts. Understand what you couldn’t. And, come out of the conversation crystal clear.
These conversations blow the winds of change. These are also the conversations that as you try to reflect on, present to you some interesting insights into life around us. Listening to a conversation, I personally think, is one of the most enriching experiences one can have. Not just any conversation, but especially these conversations. I remember a dear friend of mine had written a blog post mentioning a ‘dangling conversation’ (famous song of SnG). And, dangling as these maybe, such conversations make sense only with a passage of time.
Three of us found ourselves entangled (fine! engaged… okay?) in the dangling conversations; perhaps trying to connect the dots by looking back. Some dots did join, some others couldn’t. It almost seemed impossible to get some dots onto the same plane – but then that’s Life. You hardly expect it to be the way it is now. I am not saying we remain unsatisfied always. But, there is always a greener picture in our minds, and we find ourselves blaming our limitations for it. I remember reading in a book, “Argue for your limitations, and sure enough, they’re yours.” So true!
As the night unfolded in front of the three of us, we became more aware of each other’s resistances, of each other’s helplessness towards reasons – the want of it, the absence of it and the want for the absence of it, of each other’s perceptions and perspectives. As the end neared, each one of us imagined the conversation beautiful, just and perfect; yet as we walked away from each other, the feeling that the conversation in itself was quite a bit better than what we made out of it lingered on.
The fact remains, though, that the conversation is etched in our memories, and nothing that we do affects the conversation – its emotion, its irregularities and its comprehension. One could raise a question on our ability to choose to change our minds and hence choose different futures (interpretations) from a different past (experiences), the grander idea here though is to drive home the point that each experience in itself is a creation of life in its fuller meaning, and not a mere discovery.
The light beckoned her
It had always beckoned her
Today she walked into it
She walked a path laden with
The dark black leaves,
And some broken twigs
Cold-withered or maybe just old
So they said, she thought
But she knew not what was thought
She knew not what was cold
She knew not what was old;
She simply walked
With her hands folded
And crossed around her
She walked towards the light
She walked with dusty feet
Crushing the leaves
Breaking he twigs
One by one
Or too many at once
She heard the voice again
The noise again
It was piercing into her mind
Like oars dipping deep into the waters
She ignored it wilfully, and walked on
On the path towards her light
And now, it was all around her
The light of darkness
The light of blackness
She swallowed it with grace
The light swallowed her
And left no trace
‘A girl all of fifteen,
So genial and genteel…’ – was how someone described her once upon a time.
Perhaps she was much younger than 15 then. Recently, I chanced upon her scribbles in my ol’ diary. There was a note attached to it; it said, ‘A Delightful Imagery from a Charming Mind!’
It took me down the memory lane; and with a smile I thought I would share it with my readers.
From the memoirs of a bright young girl:
“I feel like talking about my boathouse in the Kerala backwaters and… how I sit at the edge of the boathouse, and cause ripples in the water with my fingers. I see my reflection in it. And I smile.
I watch the frogs jump in and out.
I hear them croak. And croak back at them.
I feel like talking of the mountain river… Or of the grasslands.
Or of that banyan tree where my swing takes me higher and higher… and when I get tired of swinging, I gobble down all the colourful toffees one by one sitting under the shade.
Or of lying flat on a small boat swaying slowly over the Hooghly and I look at the Howrah bridge shimmering as the first rays of the day fall over it…
Or of that beach where I hop from one spot to another, on warm sands, in cool waters…and I collect sea shells and put them in my kangaroo pocket…
Or of sitting among the cows with my grandfather in my village and milking the cows…smelling that raw milk…and gulping a cup when he is not watching!
Or of walking across the paddy fields barefoot and reaching over to that giant pump at the corner under the shade of that giant tree… peep into the well beside it…and throw pebbles into it one by one!
Or of that hand-pump at my grandma’s old house… which I try hard to pump… and chuckle away at myself for failing at it every time I try my hand at it
Or of top of that hill from where I could see only white all around… not a sound, and I sit facing the sun feeling its warmth seeping into me
Or of walking across that forest, picking up small wild flowers… those bunches of yellow and pink ones you know…
Or of simply leaning against that tall tree over there and play hide and seek with the sun…
Or of sitting under that big shady tree on that side, and watch the ants pass by slowly, carrying their food on their small backs…then, I poke them in their stomach…and giggle away as they lose their balance and stare back at me with their beady eyes
Or of sitting crouched on that bench in the park… with cool breeze blowing across… of how I blow away the soap bubbles, with some of them popping out right on my nose.
And then of walking along…and meeting this big elephant. Of how he takes me on a ride through the jungle. Of how I eat all his bananas away and giggle away.
Or of walking across that old street licking my ice-cream… and looking at the balloons flying up and up and up…
Or of running across the open grounds with my hands out stretched…till I am out of my breath and then when I am out of my breath… I lie down on the field…close my eyes and laugh.
Or of rolling over the soft green grass… the grass touching my nape, tickling me… and I smile looking at the clouds above…
I feel like talking of all that, of all my dreams… and much more.
With you.”
The152Girl