A Liar's Guide to the Dreams..

In the dead of the night, the dreams come in one by one. They cling to you with soft acceptance, and they know it all..

These are the dreams which leave a note of remembrance. They cling to our tongues like a bittersweet delight.

They feel familiar, though their flavour melts in the mouth... and taste distinctly unusual.

March 26, 2008

"Sometimes we love people so much that we have to be numb to it cause if we actually felt it, it would kill us. That doesn't make you a bad person. It just means your hearts too big."

- R.C. Boys

It just hurts sometimes and you don't know why. This itch that becomes a raw scraping wound. So you put ice on it and wait for it to die down. It doesn't hurt then. But you know. You just know when the ice melts and its back again.

I can't stop loving, but. I tried. Truly I did. But I can't. So this here is my state. I am.

March 25, 2008

Reporting an Incident

It was a cold day in December.

She sat on the rickety chair and could not believe her eyes when she read that 718 Quintal of rice have been wasted within 16 kilometers of a place where people died of starvation.

She sat and read the report that suggested that three-months' worth food grains should not be transported to hard-to-access places during the monsoons when there would be floods and the material would be stored under open air. She retched as she read that most of it had to be disposed off because of a rodent infestation, but whatever the villagers could salvage from the rodents, they ate. They fell sick too. Plague. Half the village was no more in a few days. But then, these were landless workers. They did not have land. They did not have possession.

The report went on to the poor Anganwadi worker who wore her blue sari and carried out her duties with rigorous faith. She was not paid for her extra efforts to make the food that was doled out for free more tasty. Rather, she paid out of her own pocket to feed the 150-odd people who needed food. If not rice, then the water in which it had been boiled fyan. The poor woman was finally paid some of the money when she displayed receipts for whatever she could get to the distant district office after she'd been there multiple times. And her efforts were discouraged.

"Gorib lokeder eto ichhe thaka bhalo noy." (The poor should not have so many wishes) was what was written by an officer.

Picture this. India is no longer a developing country. This has stopped. And now we look forward to our future. We look.

March 19, 2008


So where was I? Oh yes.

I was on a public bus. Its one of those nicer ones where you get to sit by the large window that keep on streaming all the polluted air in and you breathe in and out, listening to soft rock and basically feel like going to sleep. Around eight in the evening, this is quite a common scenario when you live the life of Panu. That is, when you are not trying to kill your baby sister with a blunt knife or when you are trying to make head or tail or any other part of anatomy (Insert name here) of course.

Umm, okay, so there I was sitting peacefully... there were very few people who were sitting in the bus and lots of empty window seats (Incredible windows, I daresay. Huge, with only one rod to stop me from falling out.... and it has to be pretty huge for me to fall off!)... yes, yes, You are in love with this bus already. If you are not, thats fine too.

All of a sudden, this man just sits beside me. In his end twenties, this guy is handsome, in a florid, rice-eater sort of way. Me not really like.

So why me? I ask myself. Why not the entire bus which has window seats?

Whatever, I go back looking outside.

About three minutes later, I hear a stilted... "Hehekkhiyuj Meeeheee" and I looked at him.

"What?" I ask, with raised eyebrow.

"Do you believe in astrology?"

Dammit. Weakness one. Shit.
I curse. "Yes. I mean. A bit."

Dude gets all smiles. Oh Ef. Wrong Answer.

"I want to do something, please. If you don't mind. Will you please let me do something? "

OhefohEfohefOHEFFFFFFffffffff........ nononono no Panu no rey no nononono.....

I ask.

"I am a palmist. Actually. I am someone who does this by touching the arm. Would you let me see your nature?? Please??" puppy dog eyes that says...Pretty Please with sugar on top?

No no no. Don't fall for that one. Don't FALL FOR THAT ONE....

"How do you do that?"

Curiosity is a bad thing. It killed the cat. And I am a pussy at that.

In reply, florid armist grabs hold of my upper arm through my top. He gives my arm muscles a squeeze and (pant pant) says "You are pursuing science."


"No wait... Commerce"



Oh WOW. HOW DID YOU KNOW? I could be so many more things apart from that!! Like a sucker. With the words "SUCK ME" written on my forehead!!!

"You have passed your Grads?"

"Um. Yes. I have."

"Oh good." Man brightens visibly. "You are very creative. You paint, right?"

"Um no. Actually, I can't. Eki Eki can I have my arm back please?"

"You should pursue media. That's your line. You should be a set designer."

Sure. I can so totally imagine you in a microwave, being gently revolved with a touch of rosemary. And maybe some white wine while we are at it.

"Oh. Can I have my arm back?" This time I extract arm. Too disgusting touchwise. Man grabs arm. I shake it off. Ignore The Guy.

"Please let me tell you some more about you... please? You are very stubborn, you know."

He He. Stoppit awlready.

Ignore Mode On. I look at him. "Please go. I don't want this."

Man tries to say something else. Looks at my eyes. Leaves. Go Go, and DON'T return.

Yes I have sucker written all over me right now. I have been arm-handled.

March 16, 2008


Intoxicating. Mado. Mado............

Intriguing. Right from day One. PM's Tuition.

Mado Mado.....

The day we met after class. Saru and Saddy saddled between us. There was no one else.

He came in much late. He looked and loved you.

I stared at you. Mado. I was speechless.

Three years past.
A broken, whispered "no" and I was shattered.

Mado on the other side of the net. Sitting, staring blankly at the screen. No more was the dream

And one evening... I saw a mad girl screaming.

A bone-crushing hug, and I was healed.

The stars in your eyes now. On the phone you imparted the news.

And I was speechless.

Now. You are someone else. Slightly same, but still someone else. And I love you.

All the same.

Mado. Mado. My Mado.

Ask nothing more of me, sweet,

All I can give you, I give..............

March 10, 2008

I want You... I'm not gonna cry.

I need you. But then, there is this thing deep inside of me that I hate about me. Its someone else inside me and I hate that core.

The Key

Dream about me for the rest of your days
Like lightning tearing the darkness
With the jagged light, enough to stun.

Why is it always this way?

The frightening feeling of emptiness deep within
That threatens to encapsulate the very deph of me
But no, there lies the hope of the broken images that flit
Across the bottom of my ragged feet
Tears me apart with the force of truth
The light fantastic, the light so incadescently bright
The dream of something better, far away
In the distant fairylands
That beckons me to let go
Of the control I insist
On my self

Tear apart the seams of my being
And let loose the beast within
The darkness within that threatens to choke
My spirit.

I stand in the middle of nowhere
Between the darkness and light
And I search for the key
That would merge them into grey.

And I shall fade into sepia-sweet memories
Live and die within those bounds
Pounding the walls to let my self free from it all
And turn away to rise,
Then slowly fall.