Valentine's day

The flower beds were still moist, at 5 in the morning. The dew drops had gently settled onto the petals without disturbing them. The air was filled with fragrance. A gentle pair of tiny hands caressed the flowers. Another pair of adept hands picked the fully grown flowers and snapped the stem avoiding the thorns skilfully.

The flowers went into a basket and were loaded into a van. The florist thanked the gardener and steered the van onto the bumpy road. The ride was silent, except for the occasional humming of the florist and the chirping of the early birds. He approached a serene lake. The morning wind formed little ripples on the surface. The rising sun filled the park with crimson. Dry leaves ruffled on the footpath besides the park.

A fleet of hawkers were setting up shops on the footpath. It was a special day for many, but an ordinary one for most.

The florist sorted the flowers and arranged them according to their colours and the size of their stem. The florist was happy, he hoped for a sizeable sale today; after all, what is Valentine’s Day without roses?

The morning walkers and joggers were slowly showing up. Some were too busy with their I-pods hooked on, as they ran without noticing the colourful array of flowers on the footpath. Some just smiled at the florist and walked past.

After an hour or so, a young couple came to the florist. The guy got a bunch of roses for the girl; she blushed in return. The carnival of love had begun. A few more couples returning from their walk resorted to a floral acknowledgement of love.  Most of the college guys heading to the bus-stop nearby got a rose (or more as per need). A few girls also got some. The florist was happy that natural flowers were still in, with everything going artificial these days including love.

He was a simple man who believed in fate and its winding path. He believed that only with another soul’s support and encouragement can this path be treaded.  He married his neighbour with this hope of love and support. She gave him all she could including a son and a daughter and lost her life in an accident. The kids are still young but he seems to be growing older by the day. He had lost his support in life, his lady love. For him flowers and his children were the only love left. He had kept aside a beautiful bunch of roses and lilies for his kids. They would smell them all through the day. He would have to wait there, selling flowers, till the kids returned from school in the afternoon.  He imagined his seven year old daughter’s laughter filled eyes when he would give her the special button roses he had saved for her

The florist looked back at the part green part concrete horizon seemingly floating on the lake. The sun was up now. Most morning walkers were gone. But he noticed a couple on a stone bench. They were chatting intermittently and smiling at each other as if they had just met yesterday. The lady was fragile, her pale skin shone in the sunlight. It was as if she was inured to nature and some of its ageless beauty had stuck onto her. The man had a cheer in him, something which cannot be defined in words. He was boiling with enthusiasm, unexpected of him. It was as if he was the richest man on earth. Suddenly he stood up and slowly walked towards the florist outside. His spouse was still seated on the bench.

The beaming florist asked,” How many years into wedlock sir?”

 The man said, “Forty and still counting....”

 He winked at the florist and pointed at a long stemmed red rose. “How much?”

The florist shook his head and said, “It’s a gift for your madam. Keep it.”

The old man took the rose and lowered his hat to thank the florist.

He walked back slowly, rose in one hand and his walking stick in the other.

He kneeled down besides his wife and gave the rose to her. The old lady accepted gracefully and hugged him with joy.

She said, “That’s thirty-nine in all”

The man laughed and asked, “Isn’t it forty?”

Patting on his back she said,” I gave the first one. You forgot that, didn’t you?”

Laughing together, he helped her stand up. Leaning on him she reached the wheel-chair. He went behind it and rolled it over the ramp with some difficulty. Slowly they made their way back home. It was as if they were indeed each other’s support. This symbiotic relationship had aged gracefully, smiling and laughing all the way.

As the park became literally empty, the florist tied all the left over flowers in the basket. The sun will start scorching soon; he did not like his flowers burn under the sun. He took them to his cold storage and laid them in. This would keep them fresh for the evening. He just took his favourite bunch and locked the storage. He turned back to see his kids running over to him. He hugged them, both at a time. He gave his little girl her button roses carefully and gave the rest of the bunch to his son. They were beaming, their nose stuck to the flowers to check if they are still fragrant.

The florist made sure his one love reached another.......

Pain withers.......

This is ain’t right, Not just tonight,

You seem alright........

You seem just fine, but you aren’t mine.....

I am on fire; deep in desire,

Don’t pluck my strings; you break my wings,

You tear me apart; right from the start,

You steal my dreams; you are deaf to my screams,

Why do you stare; you lay me bare,

There’s nothing I can hide.........not today, not tonight;

Leave, let go, disappear; nobody can live in fear;

When my thoughts roam, they would find another home;

Go, don’t turn back. I won’t attack.

Leave me alive, in flesh and bones and a crushed heart;

It will mend, with all the time I spend;

Walk away, far far away........

I know:  Pain withers, with changing weathers...............

Whats your antidote?

Many of us are often poisoned, our thoughts poison us secretly....One moment we laugh and smile, the next we sit alone and ponder..What is it with our mind that it tends to explore the extremities of emotions?
A tingling sensation of sadness or loneliness slowly grows all over us like a vine waiting to strangle us, till our neurons pop like opium flowers in the field...Still we hold on to edge of the trench and hope someone gives us a hand.....Sometimes we are left with no choice but to deal with it ourselves....

Each of us have our own unique antidote..I went about asking friends,'What do you do to relieve depression?'...
Answers vary from Beer to Brownies,from Music to Mayhem, from Chikni Chameli to Chelsea.......

  

   

Nobody got a whiff of my depression.I am good at hiding it or so I thought until my mom sensed it! 'You do nothing these days!How the hell would you become a millionaire???', she asked to cheer me a bit..I smiled and pondered....I realised it is our choice to 'perish or prevail' during times when the graph of life approaches its minima.......I sat at a corner and started sketching , this rendezvous lasted a weekend...Some of its outcomes are here.... :)

Lost

Have you ever felt like a mice running around a maze frantically eager to reach its destination?Or have you enjoyed roaming around without any idea of the route?
Well, being lost in an unknown city is fun, especially if you have enough money to catch an auto or a gps enabled phone :P
Yeah satellites have become a boon, showing the way ahead, literally!
But one warning: don't stumble while checking out your location on the phone and walking simultaneously !

One step at a time takes you ahead , but where to?
Where do you want to go?
And where might that place be?
To your left is somebody's right,
So you feel it ain't right..
Asking the address
might not give you redress
For if you don't know the streets and their names
its just very lame.
But don't you worry,
you won't be sorry,
if you have what it takes to cross oceans or beyond
without going round and round.
By 'it' I mean the god sent signals
to your hand held device,
always follow its advice :)  

Those hours

It doesn't stop,does it? Oh,what on earth could stop it? Staring at the blackboard doesn't work; gazing out of the window doesn't work either.Counting the hair on the head of the person sitting in front of you, is another bad idea...May be sheep would do a better job. But how do you count sheeps with your eyes open? May be taking notes would help, but believe me you can find the world's weirdest handwriting on my book, it looks like chinglish :P ... May be messaging can stop the inevitable. But ahoy, can't waste the precious messages: only 100 a day :( May be reading a novel would help, but don't you think the prof can differentiate a novel and a book?
So I succumb. I bow down to the power of sleep and enter the nether worlds.Just then I am woken up by the prof who asks me , "Would you like some tea? " ...Haha as if I would refuse... I say sorry and sit down.
What was I sorry for?May be for not being able to interpret what he wants to say in the class between his oks and ahems. And there I sit, staring wide and trying to prevent IT again!! Does it ever realise how much embarrassment it has caused me? But it still returns like a true love :P ? What follows is history ...or may be just boring routine.The good bell ringing is most of the times a saviour. The Dream world beckons only during lectures otherwise its as fresh as if I swam in a fresh lake, even just after the prof exits.
I ll always wonder what is the mystery of this!!

When flab becomes fad....

Well while an increased waistline seems to be a nightmare for many; here's the good news: looking at the recent trends says it may not be so bad to be on the slightly chubbier side...Look at Vidya balan in the Dirty picture :P ...Or better yet look at those guys drooling over her... well ahem...
Even otherwise I've wondered when did the obsession with size zero or almost zero start among normal people (well models were eternally doomed to be size zeros and negatives if possible :P) Being fit is never wrong but when did thinner become equivalent to fitter?Well yesteryear's healthy beauties never looked famished...Be it Madhuri Dixit,Madhu Bala or Marilyn Monroe for that matter :P
Does a perfect size have the right to take away the pleasure of gorging on fresh cheese cakes? Can relishing swiss/belgian chocolates ever become a crime ;) ?
But making sure your clothes always fit you ain't wrong either...Btw jeans r meant to last forever, so buy them to your right size :P
Anyways, the silly me will always wonder how does the girl sitting next to me ,in the mess hall, survive on 1 and a half chappathis :) ;)

Riverside

There flows the river and I stand by its side, wondering why it flows, often without a ride;
I look through the waters to see myself clear, but I just see a running image as if I am not here;
Then a voice asks me: Is this what you learnt in the years you lived by?
There is no reason for every single season;
This is mighty nature and the pattern of its life: simple,serene and uncomplicated ....