On the road

I am not happy, happy… but I’m satisfied, I guess. That’s a major thing for any human, given how unhappy we make ourselves. At times like this I really don’t mind being human though. Racing down the road at 90 km/ph, Bachna Ae Haseeno playing loudly, wind rushing through my straightened hair and stale perfume.

Strangely enough I saw another car in my rearview mirror, quickly catching up with me. A group of drunk boys seeing a young woman alone in a car… maybe they got some ideas because they slowed down next to me. Jeering, cat calling followed. The press sticker on my car did not deter them. This continued for another hundred metres though I made no attempt to encourage them. When they didn’t bugger off, I raced off and shifted back to fifth gear.

It was Sheryl Crow on the iPod now. Yawn. Even with her in the background I couldn’t help but feel sleepy. Work was hectic on a good day. On a day with bomb blasts? Wow. Madness. And of course the man I’m in love with picks that day to throw a tantrum. And so I speed off from office to the outskirts to pacify him. Sigh. Maybe he wasn’t worth it. of course he wasn’t. Wait. And I hit a speed-breaker. At the speed at which I was going, my teeth nearly fell out. God knows what happened to my poor car.

As I sat there recovering, I went back to what suddenly prevented me from seeing that speed-breaker. I’m a 25-year-old successful, some may say intelligent and hot television producer. I could have a lot of men. Why was I sticking with a smart-ass who wooed me beautifully and then cheated on me and treated me like dirt…? My heart was pounding. I couldn’t hear the music over it, in fact. Shit, it was one of those epiphanic moments I think.

I would not go and pacify him. I would go home to my worried, diabetic dad and loving family instead. Who the hell would ask someone they love to drive 20 kilometres after a 20-hour shift at a news channel, just for some pacifying and sex. He could get that from one of the seven other women he was wooing.

I took a deep breath. I would turn the car around, I decided. Screw him. Well, not literally. Not anymore. Jubilation. I hoped I would go through with it. I saw the boys again in the rearview mirror. Argh. Men. I’d wait for them to pass before turning around. They slowed down near my car again. And I heard a shot. I felt a searing, indescribable pain shoot through my head. The most intense feeling ever. More than the joy when my sister got married, the warmth at my first kiss, the rage and grief when I found my lover cheating on me… more than the jubilation I felt when I decided to leave him. And I remember my last thought. I wish he knew I was leaving him. And everything went black.

This is dedicated to a television producer who died under mysterious circumstances in her car in Delhi, India. This piece is entirely fictitious. As of now, November 11 ’08, her murder remains unsolved.

inconvenience

A loves making her mother cry.

B has a penis he calls Rudolph.

C would like to watch movies for free.

D does not tell people about his father.

E wants to be an astronaut.

F is in the ICU with her dying grandmother.

G is quitting her job because her boss wants her to sleep with him.

H is drawing with the ash from the ashtray.

I hates Sachin Tendulkar.

J wants to cook for her boyfriend.

K is the best crime reporter in the city.

L feels neglected.

M hasn’t told anyone she masturbates.

N wants a happy marriage.

O cannot understand his girlfriend.

P thinks he maybe gay.

Q is trying to make a word where ‘u’ does not follow ‘q’. Try it.

R is getting drunk on the flight back from Adelaide. While serving her passengers.

S wishes she could tell the truth to the world.

T cannot beard to add her ex and his mistress on her Facebook list.

U wants to have a baby at 47. Hey, Madonna did it.

V is a lazy piece of &^% and he knows it.

W thinks about sex every 5 seconds.

X wishes she was a boy.

Y has slept with 76 women and lied to every one of them.

Z is uncomplicated. He is a zebra.

See how many people have issues? I’m going nuts. I need a break. I’m taking off for a while. Satan will take over till I’m back. Sorry for the inconvenience.

- God

change

i believe in change.

i believe if i cry today, i may laugh tomorrow.

i believe a friend may not always remain a friend.

i believe we must move on.

i believe the puddles we step in will dry tomorrow.

i believe the beautiful butterfly sitting on my hibiscus will die. soon.

i believe the artist’s work will be appreciated. at least after he dies.

i believe in animals. that they should rule the earth.

i believe she will get over it. and then there will be another.

i believe in a second coming.

i believe someone is going to bomb another city soon… change its skyline.

i believe change is the only constant in our lives.

i believe … in time.

i believe paris hilton will grow old and her butt will get wrinkled.

i believe i will grow up.

i believe in change...

i believe i can do better…

....far, far better.

i believe we deserve better.

i believe we can change the world.

no, not obama. we. us.

i believe it’s time for change.

no, i know it’s time for change.

….. so what am i waiting for?

The Sore

A sight for sore eyes,

Like sunshine during rain; a warm surprise.

Not perfect beauty, but on me it grew,

Clean straight lines, shared by very few.

Not an ounce of extra flesh from his head to toe,

Beauty which brought him love, and also many a foe.

It wasn’t love at first sight,

But with time it felt so right.

Of course there were ups and downs,

On him and me did many pounce.

But night after night, day after day,

He managed to keep my demons at bay.

One day there was no more black or white,

Only a dull seeping grey, no bright light.

The shadows seeped into my heart,

The monsters drove us far apart.

We’d sit, hands holding, skin touching,

But the spaces were only widening.

One day when the sun rose slowly,

The grey had spread, deadly and surely.

As I went about my morning,

I didn’t know what was coming.

Then I undressed, ready to shower,

I saw it – at me did it glower.

It was a sore on my chest,

On my heart, above my left breast.

That night he didn’t notice it,

Though in the light, in front of him I did sit.

It did not hurt me, the sore,

But I felt it as I didn’t before.

Sucking away my warmth and life,

Bringing gloom, grey and strife.

The next morn I cried as I rose,

The sore, to grow did it chose.

Day by day, night by night,

It took away all my light.

Invisible demons tortured me,

Love from my life did flee.

With the coming of the sore,

I saw what I’d never seen before.

The demons were right to abuse me,

My lover was laughing behind my back you see,

In our home did he play a charming host,

Each day with new notches on his bed post.

Light never returned, darkness never left,

But he never once noticed how’d I’d turned bereft.

He never spoke with love as he did earlier,

His dark eyes to me grew murkier.

A long time did this go on,

Over him did many women fawn.

Till one morn I packed up and went away,

Without a hint, nothing to him did I say.

The sore on my breast has faded since then,

And I’ve since kept my distance from men.

You see,

The sore had reached deep into my blood,

The grey had seeped in like dirty mud.

On me it slowly grew,

Noticed only by very few.

So closely was it linked to my love,

So heavily did it cover my eyes from above.

Sometimes I wish I'd cut his heart out,

But I think maybe my heart would I be without.

My rage would have gotten me nowhere,

It was peace I seeked now away from his lair.

The sore has gone now, left me with a mark.

I can almost see it even in the dark.

It has left me numb, in a sort of peace,

But without any grey, without any disease.

I look at the stars tonight and think of him,

Though I know he will be where the lights are dim.

With a fawn draped over his arm,

One submitting to all his oozing, deadly charm.