K for Kalavathi

Late February or early March of 2005, I suppose. Ninga came to my bench and stood to extend his left hand. He said, "carve a K". There was a reason he had come to me. And I knew exactly what he wanted. I just took out my brand new radium cutter and without thinking, gave three cuts above his wrist. The 'K' bled red, which turned me weary. I begged him to hide it and not to tell anyone about my craftsmanship. He assured to keep the secret with a bond of mother promise.

While I sat comfortably upon the bond of his mother promise, Saturn was making his place strong through the periods. Right when he decided to act, Sudha madam entered the class. And when she started to check homework and when it was Ninga's turn. He went to her table poking his full-fledged entirety. And the obvious happened.

For a teacher who's day job was a hardcore investigation, the capital K was an easy feast. And she had to feed on the entire food chain which contained me the end. Upon asking, what's K? He told madam that it's his sister's name, Kalavathi. And this nigga didn't even make an attempt to dodge my name. He just gave it away. One thing I realized that day that only JP took mother promises seriously.

The moment Ninga gave away my name, there was a serious interrogation. First by Sudha madam and then art sir, whose name will eat a lot of my space here. He seized my brand new blade and he was damn serious because he was close to Ninga's parents. Let me tell you how serious he was. He said the blade should be taken to a lab of a department in the university. Then test I for contamination. He used some complex names. It took years for me to realize that he was talking about the Criminology department of Karnataka University for forensic tests.

The case though ended up in the principal's chamber that wasn't the end. He just asked us to have our parents talk to him on parents day. Then I had some not so serious talk with Ninga with a word of advice. Told him to hide it like me by wearing a full-sleeve sweater. 

Next day, seems Bharati madam was interested in taking a look at the specimen. After assembly, while I paced towards the classroom, Sudha madam called me with the intention to summon Ninga. Before that could happen, Bharati madam took me for Ninga and pulled up the left sleeve of my sweater. Five letters carved above my wrist. This craftwork, of which Ninga was the first and last customer, gave Sudha madam a heart attack. And then I don't know why she didn't make a ruckus out of it. Maybe because it was a boy's name. And don't judge me, I'm straight.

Fast forward 2011 September when we had become alumni of the school. Bunch of us went to school to cherish it's the glory. While we sat in Rama Madam's house talking and laughing about things, at a moment there was silence. To break the awkwardness madam suddenly asked Ninga, How's Kalavathi? 

Roof shattering laughter and for Ninga, what a face-palm.

Butterfly Effect

The sky coughed
A roar.
Frightened clouds
Cried rains.
And the plants
Giggled a bloom.

The birds to
Sing a joyous song,
The son of a man
Surprised himself
With a poem.

Love

Just like that
You fall for
Someone.

And everything is
A walk on water.
Sail through the wind.

The world is defined
In music and you're
A poem in making.

Lost

Molten by
Her caress.
Consumed in
Her arms.
I'm lost.

Not able to
Find myself.
Maybe I
Don't want to.

I like this.
It hits right.
This feeling
Is Infinite.

Tourists

Some people
Are just tourists.
They come up,
From, somewhere far

Some moments,
Photographs.
Free rides,
Some hitchhike 
With your thoughts.

And before
Something real
Can happen,
Trashing the place.
They're long gone.

Make Me Feel

Bring a chisel and
Stab my frozen heart.
Poke it in the eye, or
Maybe pull out my intestine.

I'm numb.
Can't feel a thing.

Wanna tear it out,
And cry it all away.
Can you break me out
And make me feel?

Redeemer

And just with
A touch, she
Nursed my
Hard frozen heart.

And there is a
Melt down.
Rains, rivers and
What not.

I might be a
Ocean of drops.
But she's a
Ocean in each drop.

And redeemers
Are like that.

Choking Hilarious

The Kannada teacher, Mahesh Kumar, and our batch had a special kind of rapport. The thing was he joined JNV Dharwad when we joined the school. He was also a newbie and the fact that he was a bit easy-going made us take the liberty of teasing him. We used to mimic him. The way he patted the side of his thigh while he talked was funny and I used to mimic that. Guys were so bold sometimes that they used to intentionally attract his attention. A-section was meek but B-section was a bombardment.

So we go to one of the noons of late 2004. To dwell in an incident that took place in Sixth 'B'. Pulled out by a great legend called Ramesh Gayakwad aka Ryampak. The citizen of Ittigatti realm exiled to Shivalik house. He was crazy mindfuck and always pulled a stunt though he suffered the aftermath. The founding member of "SSS" which is the basic form which extended as "Sididedda Shivalika Sangha"  which according to situations took as many Ss it wanted. Like four-five Ss. For example, Sixth-class Sididedda Shivalika Sangha. He was one of the main reasons for craziest things that happened in the class. Check his Facebook pics to understand his swag.

The third character of the show was the famous Lohit Kumar aka Laput. The kind of a guy who claims to have read nothing pretends he'll fail after the exam and yet makes it in the list. He was a pretentious bitch. He still is. Looked asthmatic, acted like one and I don't know if he was. And If I ever travel back in time to 2004, I would never miss the incident when he sang in M.P hall. Closing his eyes and spraying everything that was in mouth he had changed the weather for a while there. And to help you with your judgment let me tell you, he was from Aravali. Aravali guys are in general junior and god! A sixth class Aravali kid...do the math.

So, that afternoon, Laput did something that irritated Mahesh Kumar sir. He was so enraged that he simply grabbed Laput by the neck and thumped his back with his fists. That was like, director saying action. And as the camera rolled, Laput coughed his intestines out and started choking. He acted as if the atmosphere around pitied itself for having only 21% of oxygen. And right when the momentum was set, guess who shouted "Yappo, Lohyan kondra sir" meaning sir killed Lohit.

That shook Mahesh Kumar Sir and he started blabbering in tension. Thinking the gravity of the situation was not enough, again Rampyak was like "Someone goes to principal". Sir, order everyone not to move and asked the first bench guy to close the door. Then requested someone to go bring some water while he calmed the megastar. After giving him water and making sure he was alright, he pleaded like he wanted mercy for his death sentence. He asked everyone to not to talk about the situation. But that's not how it works. As there is nothing as contagious as laughter in the world. Isn't it?

Bare Walk

When the coating of
These superlatives
Strips down and

The curiosity
About each other
Is no more a thing..

Will we be able to
Live with the
Routine-bare-emotions?

With the usual talk
And occasional silence,
Will we  be able to

Walk down the aisle?

The Dark

When thoughts
Screech in the middle
Of the night.
You should see how
Vulnerable I become.

Washed away by even
The faintest of ideas,
All little and low.
Cornered,
Seeking support.

Daunted by the dark,
Even death hasn't
Turned up for my rescue.

Are you afraid of
The dark too?

If you aren't. Come,
Help me.

Fall

Just like that
You fall for someone.

And everything is
A walk on water.
Sail through the wind.

The world is defined
In music and you're
A poem in making.

Revelations

The starlight is
Less appealing.
And the sky
Is a bore tonight.

The revelations
Realized in your arms,

Has made my
World insignificant
And the cosmos
Smaller tonight.

What good is love?

What good is love
If it doesn’t-
Breath fire,
Dance in the wild.

Not taunt the moon
And the lonely sky?
..
What good is love
If you don’t wanna-
Drown and die,
Choke and sigh.

Not bear the pain to
Let your insides fry?
..
And what good is
Love, If it isn’t-
Euphoric high,
Yet, sanity intact.

At the obvious,
Not giggle and wry?
..
Stuck in a drapes,
Cold and shy,
What good is love?
If we don’t give it
A try?

Open your arms,
Darling,
Let’s fly high.
..

Crashed planes. Capsized boats.

Not so sad, not so happy, yet with a smile Ruchi entered her room that day. Only one thought was in her mind, "I'll write diary today". It had been long since she had written something. Even she wasn't properly remembering where she had kept the diary. She searched for it and it took a while before she could find it in the shelf. Stacked between old books it was there. Wiping the brown cushiony cover of it, she gave couple of pats to take the dust off. From between the pages, a leaf fell down. The dried up leaf of banyan tree with faint trails of ink. She knew what it was and she didn't have to read it to know what was written.

The faded smile echoed in her mind saying "and we'll build a plane of dreams and a boat of desire...". With the flashbacks, she felt heavy in her chest. The etching of those words was more conspicuous on her heart than that of leaf. Though tears poised in her eyelids, she didn't cry. If this were the case two months back she would have laid in bed crying for couple days. But now she has moved on. She thinks she has. But what now has poised in her eyes is just rage. "Should have burnt this too that day" she said to herself. And even then, she wasn't able to just crumple it and throw away.

Summoning all strength, she gathered herself to write something. Kept aside the leaf, gripped her pen between her fingers and held it on a page of diary. Blank mind, no thoughts to drive the pen through the page. That day when he had slipped that leaf in her book came to life in her mind. First year of college, on a college day-out to the nearby river bank. While the awkward social interaction between each other was a thing among others, somehow Prateek had managed to break the ice with Ruchi. And within no time she had fallen for him. That day, he had surprised her with a dairy milk fruit and nuts chocolate. The leaf was there with it and she was so happy reading it.

Her red face, still determined to write something was holding her together. Her hand was still firm holding the pen. While she battled with her blank mind, again the thoughts hit her. She remembered how Prateek changed through the period the two years of college and dumped her finally. And it almost took an year to become normal. 

It hurts when she realizes how lonely she has become and what it took to stand for herself all these days. That melt her this time. Tears making their trail on the cheeks set the pen in motion. Her mind still blank, she scribbled, 

" The plane of our dreams to crash in your apathetic lands. 
The boat of desire has capsized in my teary eyes". 

She felt exhausted and vulnerable. She crumpled the leaf and threw away the diary. Then the tears rolled rapidly and the rest only the pillow knew, like every other night.

It's Ok

It's okay to be little sad
And little lost.
And it's okay to not have
All blasting happiness.

Beer is cool. But the
Evening tea is life. Love.
And I think that's where
We perfectly belong.

Little hot, little sweet.
Perfect sometimes,
More adrak other times.
But overall, living it.

Sipping it,
Making through.

Kargil-Kid-Kite

The summer of 1999, my 1st standard was completed. Though I was in a primary school of a village, my mom was serious about my studies and I had to go to school every day. And before the freedom of two months of holidays could pass by my cheeks, Kargil war got set in. The milieu in my home turned grave as my father was in the army. He had to go back before the completion of his holidays. Mom would cry and I could just watch. 

Though I knew what was going on, I couldn't understand the gravity of it. Home had become dull than before and that's why I got immersed in the cheap thrills of the gully. Of all the things that went around me, flying a kite was a fancy that was pending for a long while. I didn't know how to make a kite and definitely didn't know how to make one fly. Setting it in a flight was like a magic to me. I would think how something as mortal as that can fly just by a thread. And I always wanted to feel that excitement. 

In the retail stores, though the ready-made kites were available for a rupee. That time, a rupee in a kid's hand was worth more than an iPhone now. And even if I had managed to get a rupee, I was supposed to spend it with prior permission of my mom. She would think if she let's me spend money I'll be addicted to the eatables in the shops.

But you know, despite everything magic happens sometimes. The universe listens to those silent prayers and makes them true. As one random noon when I was sitting in the school ground waiting for my usual friends. An adrift kite was wriggling in air to make a landing. I ran towards it to get hold of it. It was beautiful. Green background, filled with a crescent moon and a star, in small boxes all over it. Of all the kites made out of newspaper, this one looked more elegant. Before someone came looking for it, I secretly went to some other place to play with it.

A piece of thread that was still left with it and I would run around to make it fly. It flied when I ran, then again it was down when I would stop. After repeated attempts to make it fly, I decided it might need more thread and I decided to ask for it from mom. Late in the evening when I went home, I told mom what I was blessed with in all excitement. Then I showed it to her in the kitchen. The moment she laid eyes on it she turned red and snatched it from me. In an angry tone she said, "Bloody crescents and stars" and crumbled it. Throwing it in a corner, she slapped me saying, "Your father is fighting there and you bring these nasty things". She was in tears and I started wailing.

In tears, looking at the crumpled ball of green that poked the sticks out of it I wondered, "the crescent moon is the same and the stars, what our ancestors had become". Why would mom do that…and I wailed.

Home

Hands clasped.
Fingers intertwined.
Head on shoulder.

You've warped time
To hold me
In this moment.

And right now,
I'm not a refugee.
My exile has ended.

I've found a home.

The Addiction

The horizon lost
In the west has
Reappeared in the east.
And again nothing
Has changed.

The coffee cup
Still unwashed,
Scars unfaded,
The summer goes again
Assuring no warmth,
Rains without a lush.

And like a
Psychedelic song
Fashbacks in a loop,
Here I sit turning
Days into weeks,
Months into years.

Addicted to waiting,
Sadness is now
A habit.