A Walk Through Books

I've developed this habit. On Sundays, I wake up and go to some place around. Usually I go sit in a quite place, write whatever comes to mind in my diary. This time had Daryaganj Sunday book market in my mind. So by 9 in the morning I found myself in Karol Bagh metro, changed to yellow line from Rajive chowk and got down at Chauri Bazar metro station. Chauri Bazar is beside Chandani chawk where Jama Masjid is located. From metro stations I usually don't take auto to reach anyplace. One reason is, to save money. Other thing is, I love walking. It's exciting to get lost in a crowd as stranger. Behaving has innocent as possible while enquiring about a place and as matured as I can while bargaining for something. Adding ''Arre bhai main toh roz ata hoon. Yahi ka hoon'' to for a effective bargain.

Daryaganj is in old Delhi. Generally Delhi's streets are not much crowded on Sundays. But old Delhi is an exception. It's narrow streets invited me with huge crowd. Didn't miss to devour  delicious ''Das ke do Samosa'', as again old Delhi is know for it's street food. Overall it took about half an hour walk from metro and couple of innocent '' Daryaganj kaha?'' (broken, incomplete sentences portray your innocence)  sentences to reach the book market.

I reached a junction. Right side of it there were book vendors displaying books on footpaths in front of closed shops. Some still were brining huge bag of books and searching for place for display, some already had their first sales. All old editions, most of them English. Books of all genres arranged in all possible symmetry with a fine coat of dust settled on them. The vendors didn't hesitate to walk on books. It was usual for them. Since they stood amidst books, to reach other end they couldn't help but walked on books. 'No sentiments, it's business' I said to myself.

Starting from a corner I slowly  examined for the names of books and authors I had in mind after all these years of learning. I badly wanted to buy 'One Hundred Years of Solitude' by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. So, that was on top of my mind. As I was scanning through a lot, my eyes caught  'Oliver Twist'. I readily grabbed it. It was like finding an old friend among strangers. While my scanning continued further, I paused by 'The Kite Runner' by Khaled Hossani. Yeah! Seems someone had recommended it to me, so got it. Also got O Henry's story collection. Couldn't resist to leave one by Thomas Hardy and another by Mark Twain. So five books for 200/-.Raising my eye brows in pride I slowly paced towards the next street. Then I walked for 2km besides the footpath filled with books, books and books.

While passing by, for my surprise I saw a board, "Any Book for 10/-". That can be the worst sarcasm on books. But didn't found any interesting book in that lot. Then moved ahead. I was kind of mad now. I wanted to buy every book I came across. Dan Brown, Tagore, Rowling, Paulo Coehlo and other classics by Dickens, Hardy, Jane Eyre. I know money was the problem. I thought enough and thought of walking away and came other side of the footpath, moving ahead, gazing the books at the other end. Suddenly a word caught my eye 'Gabriel'. I paused, took breath and cast my eyes for a moment. Aghast!, 'Gabriel Garcia Marquez', I rushed swiftly. But the book was 'Love in the time of cholera',  what a despair? I can read that I thought, lifted it cursing the dust. Beneath, there it was, ''One Hundred Years of Solitude''. But was not lucky enough. The old man, the vendor didn't gave up his claim of 150/- for it. When there were so many items available for same price there was something within telling me, 'may be next time'. It was difficult to let it go. But next time, I said and distanced myself from the never ending row of books. Yet again, casting my eyes on the books I paced ahead towards the metro station.

11th May 2016

Ode to Crush

I saw her on a
Winter day.
Tying her bun,
She stood there.
How elegant!

Sight of her, sets
A throb in my heart.
The shine of
Her eyes. Gleam
On her face.

And that incisor
That pops out
When she smiles.
I'm a big fan.

A wink, a smile
Or even a smirk,
Might give me
Wings one day.

God! she knows,
Laws of buoyancy.
She makes me
Float.

Dichotomy

Too ashamed
To hold back,
Too afraid to let go.
Here I stand on
The cliff of
My setbacks.

Right foot poised,
Left aback.
I find myself,
Astride fate's
Invisible line.

Just a matter
Of courage.
A little push or
A look back.
There's a
Second chance.

But I guess
I'm a coward.
Too afraid to let go.
Too ashamed
To hold back.

Geophilous

You're the winters.
I'm the monsoons.

But I know,

For both, the thirst of the
Summer within is same.

Why not quench
Each other?

You get drenched,
I can use some cool.

Global warming is a thing.
And only together,

We can make it through.

Transience

Reading our chats,
I've been lying idle.
And smiling like a fool.

I wonder about love.
About life.
And imagine your
Cute cryptic smile.

I know we agreed
To depart. But
Are you really gone?

Won't you ever ring the
Notification bell and
Peep on my screen?
Saying "There? I'm waiting."

Our story is being
Eaten away by oblivion.
Doesn't it ache?

And now, don't say,
It's destiny. 🙄

Taste of Blood

A nightmare woke up Jay. It was so intense that he had a restless feeling in his chest for the rest of the day. He was not able to remember any details except, a faint whisper, "Have you ever tasted blood?" The sound of it made his veins quiver. And that feeling remained with him for a while. 

Jay is a guy who has hardly seen blood. He knows it's red because of RBCs and all. But he has never been in real life situation which involved blood. He had heard tales from his friends about how some people faint by the sight of it. He even remembers his grandpa's  hilarious tale of Bhimshi. That, once Bhimshi seeking revenge, put a sickle to Ramappa's neck. And by the sight of the overflow of blood, fainted on the site. Though Ramappa died, Bhimshi was caught in a terrible state.

The trivial memories like this kept haunting Jay now and then. Deep inside even he had a gut feeling that, by the sight of anything like that, he would faint readily. But seldom expectations and experience go hand in hand.

That evening, the usual quarrel between his father and mother took a different tone. By the tone of his father, Jay got agitated and put himself into the argument defending his mother. His drunken father, who had a glass in hand, turned so furious by the intrusion of Jay that, he broke the glass with the hand. Blood started to ooze out of hand and his helpless mother quickly got up to stop the bleeding. There was too much of blood and his mother couldn't stand it. Jay, though hesitant, had to go and hold his father's hand to stop bleeding. Meanwhile his uncle too rushed in the kitchen hearing the noise.

By the time his uncle came along, Jay's hands were all bloody. Readily, they rushed to the hospital which was five minutes away. While treatment was going on, Jay came out to wash his hands. Twitching the viscous red, he was thinking why didn't he faint by the sight of it. Suspended in his thoughts, he took a good look at his hands. It was more than just a look. He felt that blood. And before he could realize, his bloody forefinger reached his tongue. Suddenly a feel of disgust hit him and he repeatedly washed his hands. Whatever it was going inside him was overwhelming and beyond his understanding. 

Mind boggled, he sat on the bench, waiting for his uncle and pretentious father. After a while when they came out, he accompanied them. After reaching home, he didn't feel like having dinner. He went upstairs to sleep. While he spread the bedsheets, he saw a broken piece of mirror in the corner. Though it wasn't supposed to be, he had an unusual spike of emotions for it. He reached for it and grabbed it with the right hand. It was handful. He held it tight and looked at it. Stared at his own reflection like he's meeting a stranger. Looking in the eye of his reflection, he said, "Ashy metallic taste". 

Yearning

Up on this peak,
Mountains are asleep.
And the sky is
Wide awake. So am I.

The moonlight is
Melting me down.
Streams of memories,
Your face among the stars.

I miss you.
I wish you were here.
To fill my light-years
Deep longing.

Solitude

Stranded in
Our own thoughts.
We always end up
In ourselves.

The places we go,
The people we meet,
In search of a refuge,
The feelings we breed-

Are just excuses.
Means to an escape.

Let your lonely self,
Speak to the lone you.
Solitary days ahead.
Get used to it.