Musings Of a Passerby

It was once upon a time that the slightest noise would wake me up. I was a very light sleeper. Even when my most beloved Freida would come sneaking up on me, I would just pretend to be surprised and shocked. The tinkling of her giggles, the smile on her little face was worth the drama. Nobody could have been as charming as her. I still remember the day when she first arrived home. Everyone was captivated by her, so delicate. I was not old enough then and Dad wouldn't let me go to her. I would simply sit there and watch everyone pamper her. I admit now that I did feel jealous and neglected. After all I was here first, wasn't I? It took some time for the hullabaloo to settle down and then they agreed that I was responsible enough. Mom was apprehensive, Dad was hopeful and I was nervous. She was there, all wrapped up and snugly sitting in Mom's arms. As I went closer, Mom held her protectively, waiting for some reaction. She put out a tiny hand and I knew we were goi...

Absentmindedly put a vinyl on the record player, An antique I'd picked from the roadside trailer. Brewed some hot coffee at the kitchen counter To the slow beat, across the room I saunter. Plop down on a cushion at the window sill Feet snugly curled, a well mastered skill. In reflection to my thoughts, clouds outside spill Eager pen, an empty book, a deadline to fulfil. Pitter-patter in rhythm against the window pane Lost in thought, I drift down the memory lane, Jumping in the backyard puddles of the first rain Driven back right inside with Grandpa’s willow cane. Flash forwards, some boring exam in the downpour Distracted I daydream, a minute or about four Tiny mewling,a drenched kitten shivering by the door Test forgotten I rush out, guess what mattered more? Furthermore, I’m stuck in a place clocking hours A routine job, with huge workload towers In the black pool of umbrellas,only one with red flowers...

“Wait”, beseech I to his retreating frame “Trust me dear! My love is no game!” But long gone was he, I should have known Seeds of doubt weren’t in a day sown. My castles of happiness and dreams unborn Come tumbling down in a moment of scorn Fault not mine, be the cause for this But that of whispering lying lips From whence we drifted, pray tell me how Such cruel blow despite years in love? Wisps of memories thread a forsaken song “Hold back the tears! Stay calm and strong!” Feels fresh as snow upon crisp green grass, That first kiss we shared in art class. You’ve left me now with nothing to hold Breathless, strangled by icy fingers cold. Clinging to the mellow words of warmth, From the past, washed away in these storms. All but remains, your voice, haunting my ear “I love you no more. Do you hear?”

It’s a beautiful summer morning. A reminder of painful memories, yet something I cannot bring myself to despise. I was up even before Stephen had come to wake me. He could sense my excitement. He helped me clean up before getting me settled in my wheelchair. Stephen has been my nurse for the last twenty years. He is dark and hefty. His well chiseled body is an artwork of tattoos, each one with a story of his life. On other days, we would sit near the fireplace and Stephen would narrate the significance of his myriad tattoos. But today he knew better. He wheeled me to the big glass window at the farther end of the room facing the roadside. He positioned the chair such that the sunlight was just enough to warm my feet and not too glaring to block my view outside the window. “It’s such a beautiful day!” Jane had exclaimed that day twenty years ago. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever known. A delicate frame, slender fingers, wide eyes and an infectious smile, she was what I ...

When you were standing in the wake of devastation It isn’t everyday you get a telegram. Not with all the gadgetry and technology these days. But to the Army that was the safest foolproof approach. We are not talking of some secret Army messages. The telegram was the safest messenger of Death. And here I stand trembling at the inevitable news the telegram has for me. When you were waiting on the edge of the unknown Every single day he would sit by the door on the verandah in his favourite chair. A radio in hand, the same one, that his grandson had gifted him before going to the warfront. He would call out to me and get it tuned to the station for news. Any news about the war would put him on the edge. Same as everyday he sat there today. And with the cataclysm raining down She hadn’t had a very good morning. She wasn’t all too modern like her daughter in law and superstitions played a huge part in her lifestyle. A black cat had crossed her path. It had made her worri...

What is it with people going berserk with Valentine’s day? It’s just another every day! Same routines, same old office, sitting underneath a pile of files, fake laughter with a bunch of colleagues over a cup of bitter green tea. Don’t feel sorry for my sorry life, I’m not against love. Only does it need a single special day to be expressed? And yet the same topics of conversation everywhere, What special plans for the day? The lucky ones in the anticipation of the elaborately planned candlelight dinners, the not so lucky ones brooding under a growing sense of loneliness. Well, where do you think this is heading? Categorizing me already considering this rant? Let me surprise you, I belong to a third category - hopelessly in love, that cannot be expressed. So, as I sit here and listen to people discuss their plans I slip back in time to the warmth of his smile, the enthusiasm in his voice, the determination and the solidness of his thoughts, the gentleness of ...

It had been a few months since they had first met. The thought of their first encounter still brought smile on her lips. Her smile was the most perfect thing that he had laid his eyes upon. It was the smile that had him ensnared. The pointed canines peeking out from the corners of her mouth, the crinkling of her eyes. She seemed to be the embodiment of happiness . Now as she sat beside him, happily chirping away about her day at college, he watched the sunlight playing in her hair. They were at their usual meeting spot, under the lone banyan tree beside the temple on the hillock. It was only a short walk from the college but an undisturbed spot of scenic beauty. This was his favourite spot for meditation, his Me space , and she was the only girl he had brought out here. She was suddenly aware of his gaze. A deep silence was between them and the air was filled with an unusual electricity. She looked into his eyes with a calmness he hadn't noticed before. He felt a deep urge to...

The alarm does not sound right. I must get the batteries replaced. Winters have never been so bright before. Where Am I? Where are my glasses? I feel blind as an owl. I feel the edge of my corner table, searching for my spectacles. I’m sure I left them in their regular “Place Here Before Sleep” tray. As I fumble around, letting my eyes adjust to the surroundings, I feel my throat constrict and I let out an involuntary gasp. Where the heck am I? #The Room Where It Began As far as my long-arm sight would allow me to see, I see nothing but white blank space. I turn around and stumble. The bed I thought I had just gotten out of is nowhere to be seen. No corner table, no alarm clock. I try hard to remember the last thing before I landed here in the middle of nowhere. The smell of the freshly baked cake fills the air. I was baking for my daughter.There was good news on the phone a few hours earlier. “Hello Ma, Azmat here. You are a brand new Grammy. We just had a baby boy. Shay is d...