Tuesday, September 29, 2015

Air Messenger

After ages, I went back to the trash can.
To find the last bit of the paper.
To patch the cracked words.
To roll the perceptions in.
And smoke it up. Up in the air.
Just to send the long buried feelings, to my pal, at an unknown address.
But the trash refused to visit its past.

Wednesday, September 23, 2015

My travel companion

He fondled.
He tickled the funny bone.
He broadcasted his daily life.
He made it listen his song.
And it grasped everything like a good listener.
A perfect travel companion, in this world of strangers.
Thank you. Dear Metro window gates.

Happy Journey.

Saturday, September 19, 2015

Missing Tree

Today, I went in search of a tree.
To spend some time in peace. In solitude. 
Away from buildings. Sky scrapers. Human grids. 
And the search is still on. 

Thursday, September 17, 2015

Love letter

‘Received one new message’, phone beeped.
She winked her lips.
Read it as if doing silent prayers.
And smiled like a crescent moon.
Then, kept the phone back in her pocket.
With a hope.
That her divorce papers will change into love letters.

She used to get. From him. 

Wednesday, September 16, 2015

In my bag

‘New bag?’
‘Yes. A bit small. But spacious.’
‘Will I fit into it?’

‘Not you. But your desires will.’ 

Monday, September 14, 2015

Omen


Perfect design for Happiness’, she typed it on Google. Paused for a second. Read it again. Then laughed. Satirically. She looked around but there was nobody to share the joke with but she. Sunday, 1300hours, she was at her work station, designing World’s Peace poster, missed deadline, and cribbing about out-of-order air conditioner.
Meet Shoina Das. Female. 28. Creative Art Visualizer. Single. Delhi.


Just thirteen search results’, she murmured to herself.
Even Google’s on a day off’, she grinned. Trying to tie down her frustration. She put the system on Sleep mode and pushed her chair backwards by putting her hands on the table’s edge, sliding in opposite direction of her system. And got up to get a coffee. While on her way to coffee machine, she felt like a lost soul in a haunted palace. Finding an exit gate.
‘MACHINE WILL RESTART IN 13 SECONDS. PRESS START’. The coffee machine instructed. She gave a salute like the officers at Republic Day parade and pressed ’START’. While the machine took it’s time to reincarnate in the same form, she hummed a song while inspecting the shoe-box sized coffee area.



Fetched last Friday’s newspaper from a heap of old magazines, decorated as a show-piece in one corner. Headline reads,’ 13 DEAD. 3 INJURED. And 20 MISSING’.


 ‘Get some life guys. There’s lot more to do than killing people…’ 
The machine beeped again as if disagreeing with her thoughts. Asking for restart. ...’like this damn coffee machine.’ She continued while kicking at its jumbo body. She bowed at it and left like a rewind cassette. Making furious sounds, while making way back to the beginning.
While leaving, she glanced at the mirror fitted on the cafeteria door. Halted. Gaped at her wrinkled forehead, dusk-like-shade under her eyes and untrimmed hairdo. At that moment, her temper had faded away. And her mind had started to calculate when she can take out time for the spa and salon. As she was in the midst of her thoughts, a poster pasted next to it grabbed her eyeballs. ’13 Days Left to Enroll For an International Award’, her lips read.




Ma’am cab’s here’, Guard interrupted. She nodded at him. And hurried back to her work station, leaving the poster in isolation.
Exit time: 1700hrs, Date: 11-7…’
‘…Ma’am today the date is 13 not 11’, Guard corrected her while she was signing the outgoing register. She stared at him, puzzled, and then at the register. Crossed it out and wrote the right date. ‘Thank you’, she replied embarrassingly. It brought her mind back to earth.



She boarded the cab. Took out glares from her bag. Put on her headphone and played the music. The very next moment she realized that there’s a slip in her hand. It was of driver’s booking receipt. As she looked into it, she observed that it was full of number 13. Date 13. Last digits of her mobile number were1313. Cab number plate reads 0013.
What’s with number 13?’ she freaked in curiosity. ‘13 seconds… 13 dead… 13 days left… and now this 13 full slip…’ she recalled everything. This has been happening with her since few months now. But never really noticed. 13 sheet brochure. 13th seat reservation to her hometown. 13”x13” poster size. 13 search results. She recalled every 13 in a blink of an eye.  She thought it might be just a coincidence. And it can happen with anybody. And dismissed the whole thought.


13 days later, she escaped a major car accident. Her car was crushed to cans. And it was hard to believe that anybody could come out of it, alive.
And to her surprise she got an opportunity, as an award nominee, to the international awards in London.
This time she made a sincere effort to read about ‘Number 13’. Angel Number 13: brings vibrations of new beginnings and is a message from your angels that some upheavals may take place in your life bringing about new opportunities of growth, guidance, enthusiasm, optimism and protection.

After knowing the significance, she was in tears. And the only thing she could do was, thank the mystic power for her wellbeing, safety and success.
 



   

Saturday, September 12, 2015

Crashed.

Power brake.
Head oscillated from left to the window pane.
And hit back to the left again.
Quaked my sleep. Eyes popped open.  
Eyeballs settled at a face. Sitting In front.
She was pretty. I was single.

It was love at a crash site. 

Thursday, September 3, 2015

Happy Birthday

Door Opens.

‘Where the hell were you?
I can’t find my Blue File.
You always mess around with my stuff.
Say something you moron?’
‘I got your name Tattooed.
Happy Birthday.’

Door shuts. 

Wednesday, September 2, 2015

Skype Story

'Beauty_Angel16’
A Skype Id, I came across in my list. 
'Can I see your snaps’? I messaged.
After a while, 'I'm not photogenic', it reverted. 
I messaged instantly, ‘Don’t worry, I'm not a photographer'