Tuesday, April 24, 2007

Eclipse




A try … preeminent

Behind the scenes

A change… prominent

Behind the scenes

A predicament… heeded

Behind the scenes

A dilemma… resolved

Behind the scenes

A Confutation… accepted

Behind the scenes

A promise… assured

Behind the scenes

An absence… fulfilled

Behind the scenes

An existence… anonymous

Behind the scenes

Sunday, April 22, 2007

Feelings

Well this is my first poem ever! i remember i was in the fourth grade... i remember, i had picked up a piece of scrap from the floor (because i had no notebook as usual), borowed a pencil from someone (because i had lost mine as usual) and scribled it in a hurry so i could give it to my english teacher (just to impress her.) so here it goes...

FEELINGS
Oh! my feeling,
has no healing...
No care, no one to share,
like a lost child in a fare...
Now i have no doubt,
my tears will come out...
My tears will last in the flowers,
stolen by the nectar thieves...
I suppose only the bees,
would share and care,
and help in healing,
my stupid feeling...

Sunday, April 15, 2007


Sometimes I wish I had an alter ego…so I could switch over when I’m hurt and wounded and then switch back when I’m alright…that ways I won’t get reminded of the morose feelings all the time!

Monday, April 9, 2007

Fatal- Femme ‘E.S.P’


Sometimes it so happens that even before a particular episode or incidence occurs, even when an event leading to the incidence ceases to exist, I get an inkling of what’s going to follow and what’s going to come my way. In simpler words I can expect the unexpected! (Which is so not cool sometimes…)

I’m sure all women experience this phenomenon quite often in their lives, and I’m sure all men agree to how strong and alarmingly accurate a woman’s intuition can be! It might not really stand up to scrutiny but in someway or the other this instinct is not merely a hunch.

It’s a premonition. Pleasant or unpleasant is not really a choice. The fact that it’s a portent subjects it to be totally unreasonable and irrational at times but it sure isn’t unnecessary and uncalled for. It’s strange how one can sense something which is not at all deducible. I’m not questioning the male ability to intuit
but it’s an unstated truth which needs no proof that women do a better job at it.

It’s no joke, now that researchers are also working out scientific explanation to justify this incredible phenomenon (Researchers being mostly men, threatened because of obvious reasons!) giving it a more convincing name of Women’s interpersonal discernment.’

As an example: I’m sure everyone’s witnessed a mother’s intuition which I might add, for the well-being of my male readers, is much safer than a wife’s or a girlfriend’s intuition.

It’s almost as if we women have some psychic connection with people we choose to be intuitive about. And if you ponder over this you’d be surprised to realize just how much we depend upon our sixth-sense at this mind-hacking game. It’s very rare that this sixth-sense let’s us down. Mostly, this gut-scrunching, bone-clenching feeling is non-debatably true, isn’t it?

You must be wondering why I said above that we have a psychic connection with people we choose to be intuitive about. Well everyone knows how this works! Its funny how our so called ‘Women’s intuition’ acknowledges only few and simply chooses to ignore the rest
(for obvious reasons again!).

A very clever and, I must say, adequately astute man once said “It is by logic that we prove, but by intuition that a woman discovers." No need for further elaboration, I guess?

Coming back to the point, the question is how reliable is this intuition? Is it always right to give way to gut-feeling or when should we chose to ignore it? Well, being party to extremely strong intuitive powers myself it’s awfully difficult to answer this question. But what my intuition tells me is that …….

Sunday, April 8, 2007

Perpetual ignominy





"Feeling free yeah what about me?Well you gotta give it up coz


I feel love do you know How I feel ?You are my achilles heel"


The words sound familiar not only because they belong to one of Toploader’s brilliant and intensely true compositions, but somehow these lines had been playing in my mind over an over since a long time. The record seemed stuck, so was my life and everything in it.

Potentially leading to downfall, that’s what an achilles heel means. In my case this happened both literally and metaphorically. Sometimes I fail to understand why I kept on pushing myself to be in something which I knew would someday lead to a fall I can never recover from. Though it dosent hurt or upset me anymore but it sure has permanently and eternally impaired me of trust, expectation, hope, belief, u name it!

Blaming another person or a particular relationship wouldn’t be a fair judgement of what, was a self-imposed and self-inflicted transgression. It was a misdemeanor on my own part which cost me my own happiness, cost me my precious time, cost me my zeal, my passion and all that made me the high-spirited person that I was.

It disgusts me now when I recall what a wretched simpleton I was and I pity those who are now trailing on the same path.
Now i regret each and every precious moment I wasted, moments which I once cherished, moments I thought made me happy. Now I just contemplate upon the dreadful state I was in and I hold all those moments in spite. Whatever I say is not enough to potray my penitense. I’m sorry, not for all that I did in vengeance, only sorry that I allowed circumstances which condemned me to do so in the first place.



" Goodbye to the skyI know I can't fly but I feel love do you know How I feel?


You were my achilles heel…"



Friday, April 6, 2007

A Cinderella Story

There is a very thin line between faith and coincidence. For Macy this line didn’t exist, until of course she met Harold peters. Macy’s life never went back on track after her mother, Martha’s death. Not that she was living a dream when Martha was alive, but Martha was her only consolation when she came back from her tiring sales job. Going door to door and selling cheap imitation of port wine wasn’t exactly how she intended to earn money. But with Martha’s illness on one hand and paying house rent on the other, she couldn’t afford a decent education and thus had to compromise with the sales job. She also worked weekends as a waitress at the local diner.

Unlike other girls on her block, who where more interested in wooing boys Macy never had to make an effort. She was beautiful and she knew it. But somehow being beautiful didn’t make a difference to her. At 20 she had never been out on a real date, not because she didn’t want to but she had her share of never ending chores, endless hours of work, and of course regulating Martha’s medicines.

But all of a sudden she felt relieved of all these obligations. She was guilty of thinking this way but she actually felt independent and for once at peace with herself and her life. It was finally over. She missed her mother terribly but somehow found solace in the fact that now the only responsibility that she had was of herself. She no longer had any liabilities towards her job, the landlord and of course Martha.

So she finally decided to move out of the rat-hole apartment, leaving behind all the suffocating memories. She decided to move to New York. While packing she could visualize her mother sitting on her favorite couch and in her monotone, advising her to be careful of the thousands of thugs and muggers of New York. Her mind was playing tricks on her. The hallucination was just her own conscience warning her of the world she was stepping into. A world full of strangers and unfamiliar faces. She was afraid. Afraid of getting lost in the anonymity of the huge city. She was afraid of becoming one of the many others who are attracted to the city’s splendor and glory. She was afraid of getting lost in the crowd. Gulping all the fear down her throat, at 20 she started her journey a journey which later turned out to be a blessing in disguise.

Harold peters was a young and upcoming entrepreneur, inheriting his fathers mining business at the age of 24. He was now in league with some of the biggest names in the industry. For him Work was synonymous to living.

His office was a workaholics dream. A penthouse complete with a personal gym, Jacuzzi bath, sophisticated gadgets, beautiful mahogany file cabinets and a private elevator, was a token of affection from his father on presuming office.

Macy walked in unassumingly, wondering what she was doing there. On arriving to New York the first thing she did was grab the New York Times Classified section looking for an affordable place to live in and a decent job to sustain the rent. With the little that she had saved from her sales job, she rented a small room in one of the many shabby and cramped up localities New York had to offer. She wasn’t exactly expecting a huge apartment but she wasn’t expecting another rat hole either. She could do with the leaking roof and the fact that all the tenants on her floor shared the same restroom; she could even do with the noise and the stink from the fish market right behind the building but what she couldn’t take was the ever interrupting mysterious people walking in and out of the building all day. She was as it is nervous enough with the idea of living alone in such a big city, the last thing she needed was a constant invasion of her privacy and the thought of strangers walking in on her at wee hours of the day. Till now her life was no better than what it had been back in Marysville, Kansas. In fact it was worse because she had no job, a messy apartment, no money plus she was all alone with no friends and no one to rely on. The only person she knew in this gigantic city was her crooked landlady, the last person who would help her if she where in some kind of trouble. The only thing that concerned the selfish old hag was her overpriced rental.

Macy would shudder thinking about the consequences of what she would do if she ran out of money? Would she go back to Kansas? No, she couldn’t even do that. The fare to New York already cost a lot, not that it was expensive but she didn’t have that kind of money to start with
.
Pushing all the frightening thoughts aside Macy tried to focus on the interview ahead of her. She had always dreamt of a fine secretary’s job in a respectable office. Although she wasn’t very well qualified but had a knack for documentation. She had also learnt short-hand typing at the free vocational course held every year during the community week, back in Kansas. Plus she had been keeping accounts since she was 13.
She knew it was a long shot trying for her dream job in such a high-profile company. They probably didn’t even let people without fancy degrees appear for the interviews, leave alone work experience, that too without any credible recommendations. All of a sudden she had the urge to turn back and walk out of the magnificent office which had already started making her feel puny and unwanted. Just as she was about to leave she heard her name being called out as the next candidate to go in for the interview. Seeing no way out of the situation, as the woman in charge of calling out names was standing on her nose, she decided to go in for what she had expected to be a grilling session. She was expecting Harold peters to be a bald and graying man somewhere in his mid forties.

Macy got much more on entering that office, much more than what she had expected. Harold was a bit skeptical at first, hiring someone with no credentials, no experience whatsoever. But as the interview proceeded Macy proved herself far beyond anyone Harold had ever hired. There was an unmistakable air of pride in her voice, which made her stand out in the crowd of cliché Harvard valedictorians. Harold was in awe of this girl from a small city in Kansas, coming from a broken home, a girl who instead of mourning her misfortunate life, was sitting there in front of him knowing her unfathomably feeble chances of making it in the interview, but not an ounce less, of self-confidence, of self-assurance. Proud but not pompous.

Harold was beyond impressed. He was overwhelmed by a strange sentiment, a feeling he couldn’t describe because he’d never felt this way before. He would enjoy watching her working at her desk, so diligently so meticulously. It wasn’t her beauty alone that attracted him to her; she was much more than just a pretty face. Talking to her was like social intercourse.
Macy wasn’t less in awe of Harold herself. She would catch him watching from the corner of her eye and go pink in the face, praying hard he wouldn’t notice. Sometimes she would pass the feeling as a mere infatuation bound to happen to a secretary with an irresistibly attractive boss. But something about the way he looked at her told her this was much more than just a crush.

Sitting in her lonely apartment, on her makeshift bed cum couch, Macy couldn’t help but smile to herself at the thought of how happy she was now. How miraculously her life had turned at a complete 360 degree from where she had started. She was independent and she was settled and she had her dream job, and to top it all she was deeply and madly, in love.

Harold was having difficulty finishing an important report for the next day’s presentation. He was only thinking about Macy and how innocent she looked while engrossed in her files. But the one thing that drew him most towards her was her wisdom. A perception far beyond her age. The fact that her crude past had changed her for the better, the fact that she had not compromised to her circumstances but confronted them and made the most out of them made him like her even more. It’s then when he realized he too was, deeply and much disturbingly in love with Macy Collins.

Macy was sitting on their plush satin feather bed reminiscing upon those golden memories when suddenly her trance was broken by a very thrilled and excited Christina calling out to her from the garden. “Mommy lets play.” Suddenly Macy couldn’t believe her ears. She couldn’t believe she had Tina in her life. She couldn’t believe she was a mother now, just like Martha. She couldn’t believe she had everything that she ever wanted. She couldn’t believe she had Harold….

It sure wasn’t a coincidence. It was meant to happen this way. With all its ups and downs life had finally come to a beautiful and idyllic standstill. She now, understood gods plan. She now, believed…