So Much For Fantasies

Holding her basket she walked ahead, taking small steps and craning her neck as if to see something. She did have that looking-for-something-look in her eyes. They danced around searching for something vital, life altering and they landed on that guy in the beautiful jacket standing near the bus station , the irises came to a standstill and fixed themselves everywhere but not on him. One look for today was enough. One look was enough to suffice the rage of emotion bubbling within her. What was she thinking, she wondered. She was a mother of two, a widow, who should not be eyeing stray guys on the road. Where were all those values which were pumped into her when she was a kid? Oh! How she wished she could control her heart from beating fast as she crossed by. She could feel his eyes burning her neck. His gaze was boring into her. The way he looked at her, it was clear that he had some feelings too, may be not that of love, but lust surely did come into sight. Her cheeks coloured red at that thought. Yes she wondered, a young widow who had not had the experience of being appreciated by a man in bed for a long long time was bound to have such thoughts, but about any random stranger. She felt a bit bad and naughty too at the road her thoughts were taking her. She was sweating profusely the sun bathing her with his light. Her hair was tied in a bun with a stray strand playing with her face. Her light pink cotton sari clung to her body because of the sweat. She knew she was no beauty queen in the garb she was in. All she could do was sigh and think about the days when she was well not this at least. Well all she could do was smile to herself and get into the bus which arrived. Normally he never got in, but today he did and he was standing just next to her. She knew he was behind her and just a tilt of her face was enough to see him. He looked delicious from this angle. A firm chin with a bit of stubble, beautiful gleaming eyes with thick eyelashes and muscled body with a sprinkling of fine black hair on the part what was visible from the t-shirt. She loved his jacket, leather she noticed; well he was definitely the bad boy types, she always was so attracted to. Ah! Life. It surely was unfair.
Her stop was nearing, so she went ahead and no surprises he followed too. The screech of the break bumped her against him and lo and behold she could actually feel those bulging biceps. Oh! How good they felt. She thought of her husband for a second.
She descended and he followed her. She walked ahead and he was behind there too. For a second she did enjoy it and then was scared. Her bags were too heavy and she halted for a second to take a deep breath and secretly praying that he would either pass away or come and talk to her. Well he did not seem to be the wasting time sorts and came immediately to her and in the most squeaky voice ever asked her “can I help you carry your bags?.” A girl would have had a more robust voice. For a moment she could think and then she collected herself and said, “No thank you, I will manage”.
With a smile she walked ahead. So much for her fantasies.

The Last Second

He lay there quietly. He was still alive as his skin still tingled with pain and his heart out of wanting. The blood seeping through his skin mingled with the blood of his friends. The pains searing through his whole body may kill him any moment, but he wanted to live. He wanted to live to complete the unfinished. The fence of his small house was broken, the well was unclean, and he yet had to tie the swing to the backyard tree. The last two lines of his favorite poem, the only poem he remembered from school by Robert frost came to him. “But miles to go before I sleep, but miles to go before I sleep”. He wondered if he really could cover those miles before he slept. He did feel woozy and wanted to close his eyes and just let it go. But hope tugged around and just the thought of her soft hands wanted him to live some more, wish some more.
He slithered towards the phone, shouting with pain, crying out loud the name of god asking him to help him. His right leg was limp and had lost every sensation. That leg was lost he wondered. But life is more important than the leg. He picked up the receiver with no voice on the other end. The phone was no good. Everything and everyone was dead just like the death surrounding him.
He just lay there thinking about his mother and how she used to pour water over his head at night, bathe his forehead and then sing to him. “O sweet child of mine, o love of my life and so on. The sweet memory still comforted him. The pain ceased for a while but was back to its hilt again reminding him of the reality.
From his pocket he took out the letter his wife had last sent him. She was pregnant she had written, she was expecting his baby. She had sent the letter 3 months back and was already 2 month pregnant then. She must be five months into pregnancy now, he calculated. How he wanted to feel her stomach, touch the bump, feel his seed kicking inside her womb. A good female she was. Not very beautiful but very understanding. Nor once did she cry nor force him to stay back whenever he turned his back to leave. He remembered how longingly she wanted that ring. How she had stared at it but not asked for it. He would buy it for her when he returned. Yes that’s what he would do. He will adorn her swollen fingers with that ting. She deserved it. He knew he loved her, he had never told her that, but deep down she was the one for him.
A loud wail left his mouth as the bullet inside his chest embedded deep. The blood gushed out and all he could do was hold himself tight. The corpse of his fellow soldier lay next to him. Good man that Pratap Singh was. He wondered what his family would do, as the sole provider was dead. The flowing blood now was replaced with water from his eyes crying in pain of the wounds and the pain of losing his best friends.
His throat was constricting. The air seemed to be leaving his lungs. He took the half filled water bottle next to him and drank, then just like his mother used to, he bathe his forehead. The pain unbearable he closed his eyes. Someone far away was singing” o sweet child of mine, oh love of my life.”

BOW-WOW

I stare through the cage
I see you
I bark out loud
you stare at me
smile,then mingle
into the crowd
I wag my tail a bit
once or twice I jump
just to please you
oh a joker I have become
my eyes beg to you
to save me from this hell
all you say is 'awww'
nothing rings a bell
you ruffle me for a moment
then look into my eyes
I ask you questions
you don't understand my whys
every action futile
I droop down
and then may be you understand
cuz I see a frown
till I was shouting
u wanted to hug me tight
once I have lost my strength
you want to keep me aside
You lifted me high in your arms
And put me back down to earth
I thought you desired to do me a good turn
Sigh, you turned your back on me,
and thus!behind these grills I return

My CHOCOLATE man

I was hungry. Noticing a monginis near by me headed towards it. My eyes looked greedily at those gooey chocolate pastries and those great blue berry cakes. Salivating I ordered a big pastry and even asked the girl behind the counter to warm it. All the jumping rats inside my stomach could imagine was the warm melting chocolate they were about to taste in a while. The smell was intoxicating and I was about to order another pastry when I noticed him. He was standing just behind me. The place was not that crowded that he had to be so close, but I just ignored the fact as he was cute. He was not that I-am-a-chocolate-boy-and-gooey-types cute but the-geek-outside-and-the-hunk-inside-cute. He wore those geeky specs. My rats suddenly transformed into butterflies and they started flying around. Our eyes met and were locked for a long time. Suddenly flashes of us together started clouding my mind. I was thinking about all those “awws”.”Ooh”, “so cute” and “wow that’s so romantic” I would get when years later I would tell my kids and their kids how I met their father or grand father. How we were both hungry and bumped into each other and fell in love and how it was love at first sight? and how hungry I was??

Arrgg!! My rats were back at it again, jumping around. He turned around, ordered a paneer patty and was back to coyly staring at me. I tried to behave like a decent girl by not returning his state and started studying my pumps, my nails, my hair, and my mobile, basically everything except him instead.

The girl behind the desk at last kept the big dollop of chocolate in front of me. It was huge, melty, soft and very inviting but suddenly I was filled with horror. He will see me eating so much!! OMG!! What will he think? He will surely won’t even look at me again!! These thoughts scared me, shattering my awws and oohs and the love at first sight stories.

I suddenly behaved as if the female had made a mistake and told her.”I never asked for it, all I want is a bottle of water and a paneer patty. (Yes my order was just what he had ordered too).lucky for me the female didn’t argue and cordially handed us both our respective patties.

I looked towards him and he was staring at me too. He smiled a sheepish smile and oh boy! I was taken. I didn’t know what to do further and then he suddenly as if scared moved away from me.

The door opened and a fat old lady with a big frown on her face, entered and slapped him on his back saying “tu maine chad k aa gaya khote” (you left me alone and are here, you ass!), and I stood there shocked as how she kept on scolding him and he kept on listening with a feared expression on his face. After that he didn’t even dare look towards me. The scared little puppy was just too scared.

My heart sobbed. I had left my cute little faithful, tasty piece of chocolate for that momma’s boy, and then I realized that leaving chocolate for a man is never worth it.

The man and the boy (part 1)

There were no more holes in his soles, but the hole in his soul was getting bigger, his clothes were no more moth eaten, but his heart was being gnawed at. Yes he had money today, everything he willed at his footstep, but what he didn’t have was love, anyone to trust. Anyone to believe in, anyone to just be yourself with. He was a different man with everyone. He himself didn’t remember when was the last time he was just himself, the real man that he really was. He didn’t believe in real anymore nor did he believe in love. He didn’t believe in honesty. Hell! He didn’t believe in himself too.
Today he sat on his favourite leather finishing chair, with a glass of bourbon in his hand, Mozart playing in the background. The ideal evening setting for him. It was his evening ritual after office every day. The whole atmosphere helped him think. But today of all days he was not happy with the whole feel of the room. He never felt alone in that huge room with carved wooden panels into the walls and the floors furnished with the most expensive of the Turkish rugs, but today something was different.
It was his 38th birthday. Was he really that old? He asked himself and then suddenly reclined on the plush soft cushioned chair, feeling the age creeping in.
He had achieved everything he had promised himself the day his mother had abandoned him. Well abandoned was a term he used for what had happened. She had died is a road accident when he was only 15, but he still blamed her for just leaving him. She was the only human being on this earth he had actually loved and when she died, it was like his innocence was robbed of him and the boy was forced to become a man overnight. Since then the boy was never came out and the brutal man just lived.
After his mother died, he had seen the worst of days, he had no pennies to rub together and no roof to call his own, and the foster homes he was sent to were more interested in making him slave for his stay than to give him a bit of love or affection.
The music stopped abruptly, and he was jolted back to reality. No he was not living in some shabby house any more with his stomach churning out of hunger. He was in his mansion, his huge mansion, but he was still lonely today.
The day she died, he was all alone and till today that feeling was there. He was still the wet rat standing under the rain scurrying around for shelter.
Will he ever get the umbrella?