The low ceiling hits my head each time I want to stand straight. So I keep my head bent. It does ache after sometime but then again sometime after that the back of my head stops feeling anything at all. The ceilings on the side are blank wooden planks. I shamelessly write there with my uneven scrawly handwriting, glad that whatever I am writing no one's going to ever read. I doodle too sometimes. It never happens consciously. It's only when I am absent minded it happens. 
        On the ceiling below me I have kept a 5' 5" gap. The rest is strewn with food that I am going to devour each  day. Every moment. In some places in my room, " the food" piles up and touches the low ceiling.
        I have an in built camera in me and an in built notebook. The moment I have gathered enough strength from the food I shall take off. For a while the room is my world. But I know that the world outside my room is a massive place. When I take off, I'll try to cover the world. Am sure by then I will be strong enough to fly that distance. Strong enough to fight the opposing current and fly against the air flow.
       For now, excuse me . I need to eat.

          

I was walking down the street the other day. As absentminded as I have become, I had forgotten to wear my specs. Well with just -0.50 power in my left eye and -0.75 in my right, I have a nearly perfect vision. But the only problem is that the faces of the people a little away from me appear as if though a translucent glass window. This street by the way , at the time I was walking , becomes extremely colourful. Literally and not literally. In the morning, that is the time when I was walking , the morning bazaar operates in full strength. The make-do shops eat their way into the street in a way which makes it impossible to walk straight. It's like concentric circles, it starts with the vegetable jhuris , that get surrounded by the wayward onions and potatoes that roll off and in a way increase the property area of the sabji ola. Then that gets surrounded by the morning risers that come to buy their daily ration and finally this concentric formation gets fortified by the cycles that these morning risers bring and carelessly park. With the fortification and all, the make do shop reaches the middle of the street. Walking down absentmindedly, the hub of the haggling buyers and sellers and enthusiastic advertisers and morning greetings all gets stirred into a hum.

I was walking down the street the other day. As absentminded as I have become, I had forgotten to wear my specs. As I walked ahead, like a movie camera focusing on random faces to create a prologue to an approaching danger, random faces caught my eye. Only the faces were not random and all I could see of the faces were their eyes. When they met mine they said the same thing, " I have seen it too."

As my eyes shot from one pair to another pair of eyes they echoed the same thing ... "I have seen it too."

I squinted. How did they know that it was chasing me ? No wait, how did I know it was chasing me? I think I read it in their eyes. In their eyes, "it" said to me, "he saw me in his cousin who ran away with a boy of a lower caste", or "she saw me in her son who could not come home because the train left the tracks" or "she saw me when her best friend felt that anti depressant pills were not working." and the stories went on and on. And then in the time space when I was ricocheting from one pair of eyes to another, out of nowhere it said " and I am coming for you..."

A loud honk. I jerked back in reflex and the Auto which came from nowhere missed me by a millimeter.

"Dekhe cholben toh didi "

It was not a near death incident before which I had a premonition of it. It was a coincident. If the auto had hit me, it would be an accident and nothing more. But no matter how much I utilize my rationality, I still feel that day, I met Death. In person and not in action.

High

I could distinctly hear "desert rose" playing somewhere. I opened my eyes. No. I don't want to let go of that. I don't know how to word it, it was a feeling which had no scent that I could recognize, only images which were drawing me back to it and a sound - the rhythm- the tune of "desert rose" but there was something so unreal about the effect. I shut my eyes again.

The stone staircase. I started rushing up. Two, four, six, eight...landing. He stood there. The first three buttons of his shirt unbuttoned. I moved up to him cautiously.

I wish I was not wearing my faded night clothes. I wish I was wearing that gown which Cinderella wore to the ball. I was so close to him that I could close my eyes and feel him breathing. I looked up to look straight into his eyes. He had no eyes. He had no face. He was not there. I was standing with my nose touching the wall. I knew it was time to run again. I began running up the stairs. Again. Twelve, Fourteen, Sixteen...I tripped. Fell down a couple of stairs.

I sat on the twelfth stair panting. I had tripped and I had no idea how. I got up and started climbing again.

" Why did you trip?" screamed someone from the top.

"I was absentminded." I screamed back.

"That is disgraceful!" screamed back the voice.

I did not stop. Twenty, Twenty two, Twenty four.....

"Why did you trip?" screamed a voice from below.

"Um....I twisted my ankle." I screamed back.

"So predictable." commented the voice.

Another landing. He stood there with the first three buttons of his shirt unbuttoned. I slowly walked up to him. I was wearing the gown which Cinderella had worn to the ball. I stood so close to him that I could feel him breathing with my eyes closed. I felt nothing. I opened my eyes. I didnot dare look into his eyes. But he was still there. On the wall of the landing there was a life size painting of box which had each side painted in a different colour. I hid behind the painting and waited till he went away never to come back.

" Why did you leave her?" they asked her.

" I could not understand her," he answered.

Up there

        I glanced over my shoulder. No. Nobody was watching. The first few steps I took were cautious. The ones that followed, accelerated . Then hurried ones. I scampered through the thick thicket of vegetation to reach the tower. As soon as I reached the base of the tower I halted. The piece of cloth in which I had hurriedly stuffed in all that I wanted up in the tower were all slipping from my grip. I adjusted my hold on it , took a deep breath and climbed the tower with the help of the make-to-do rope. It was actually my own braid which I had chopped off the last time. I had used it to climb down the tower.
       The moment I set my foot inside my room, I let go of the grip. All that I had collected just rolled out. Some of it rolled under the bed, some disappeared under the closet. I flopped down on the floor and clasped the nearest object I could lay my hands on. My face felt warm and so did the back of my neck. Over the evening, I picked up all that I had brought with me and clumsily stuffed it in my closet.
       Then I got up as suddenly I had sat down. I stretched myself on the bed. As I looked up to the stone colourless pale ceiling, I sighed. This has always been my home. Each time I ventured out, I came back just the way I did today.
        I clutched my pillow and turned to my side. I will be staying here for a while.

As I have decided to sit on the fence , it is only natural that I will get kicked from both sides.

string of affairs

#1.
i feel strange...it's been so long since i last met you. you may not
believe me but i miss you terribly.

when i would be with you, everyone would look up to me. in your arms i
would feel so high. i miss the exhilaration, i miss the magic that would be
created each time we had inter-course... the rapid trepidation as i use to walk up to you ... my senses numb and most alive.

i remember the time when i was made to stand beside you. i had to stand
right there and watch you. watch you as you gave them the same kind of warmth as
you used to give me. watch you as i saw you, getting so close to them. you won.

i was shaking with jealously. i could see the jubilant smile on your face.

"thats what you get for not choosing me....for abandoning me !" you spat
right at me.

you accused me. and rightfully so. i did not choose you. i did abandon you.
but that day, when i was in my Principal's office discussing career options, she
asked me about all that mattered to me in life. i could not but blurt out in
that moment of absolute impulse...that i was in love with you.

even today, when i see no way by which i can go back to you, i stand by
that moment of impulse .

#2

i don't know whether to call it his story or mine . Never mind it doesn't matter whose story it is ....just damn the s......and let me get on with this.

we got married last july. i admit under strange circumstances. but nevertheless the truth as it stands is , we have decided to spend our lives together. like every other married couple in this world , we hoped to get from this marriage "happiness", "stability " and yes , create children.

let me start right from the beginning. we were childhood friends. as a child , i was fascinated by you. but by the time i reached adolescence ... i lost interest in you. but something started happening between us when i was 16. i think it was infatuation that i felt. it happened probably because even when i had lost interest in you , you were gentle to me. now that i think back , i remember, you would always be right beside me. when all the other people let me down you would make me smile again. it was when i realised that we wouldn't be seeing each other anymore in school, i decided to move in with you.

two years. a struggle to be compatible. there were times i found you unbearable. i started looking for love and comfort elsewhere. but then again, there were moments which reminded me why we were together in the first place.

but the fights got bitter. you looked happier with other people. so did i.

by the end of two years, we had had enough. we decided to separate. not that i had anyone particular in mind. but i was sure about one thing. i would rather die than spend the rest of my life with you.

the day i was to officially leave you ...we had one last confrontation. you said "you don't have the capacity to ever satisfy me." the words stung. more so probably because of its truth content. this couldn't be the last thing i had to do with you . this couldn't be how i leave you. we might have been incompatible , but it didn't mean that we were not in love !

we met again. i had to come back to you. we made love like never before. and before long we were married. my father was dead against this wedding. my mother although liked you was doubtful whether this marriage would last.

i am with you now. i am happy with you. i am stable with you. but why aren't i happy with this stability ? and why am i not being able to create children with you ?