Afterthought

"There's nothing wrong with the blueberry pie. Just... people make other choices. You can't blame the blueberry pie, just... no one wants it." She hung up. I was telling her about my Christmas plans. I was telling her that I planned to stock up on food, beer and cigarettes. I could go on and tell you a tragic story about how I couldn't run any more because of the cigarettes, but I'd be lying. Cigarettes never bothered my running. I was improving, and would definitely finish the spring marathon in a respectable time. No, it wasn't the cigarettes. How self-centred could I be! No, maybe it was Justin. She had broken up with Justin a few weeks back. I would never see her point. She didn't expect me to. We had agreed not to talk about it. I couldn't help bringing it up every other time. She had been patient and had politely changed the topic every time. Justin was staying over at my place for Christmas. She hung up because I was telling her how gr...

"I met my girl at Woolwich Pier Beneath the big cranes standing And oh, the love I felt for her It passed all understanding" Her hair brushed my face. The perfume was sweet and poignant; nostalgic and refreshingly new. "Took her sailing on the river Flow sweet river, flow London town was mine to give her Sweet Thames flow softly" We had tea from the shack outside College. We drank in the sweet warm liquid and we drank in the view of College. Both spread warmth. I took her hand in mine. My hands were always warmer. "Made the Thames into a crown Flow sweet river, flow Made a brooch of Silver town Sweet Thames flow softly" It was a pity she wasn't around while I ran for her. I couldn't tell her that I was running for her. At the finish line, I realized I hadn't run for her. Instead, I had run for the father and daughter who were now alone, the man in the wheelchair who was now alone, and I ran for the leprechaun who was now al...

“I tend to think that cricket is the greatest thing that God ever created on earth - certainly greater than sex, although sex isn't too bad either”~Harold Pinter I felt like a fool as I walked towards the pitch. It had been a brilliant series until the last hour. We had exceeded expectations. We started with a relatively young team; inexperienced, fresh and unassuming. Our first round matches were easy wins. No one noticed us until we were in the finals against the Seminare team. I was booed, but I knew Aparna’s voice wasn’t adding to the chorus. I would have been surprised if I had known that she was in the stands, sitting quietly, probably praying. The Seminare team was at its best this year. Most of their players were in their last year before they had to give up cricket and start worrying about their school-leaving exams. They embarrassed and humiliated every team. They were playing the finals at home. I first met Aparna at the inter-school quiz. I was surprised Sem...

He mumbled something. I thought he mentioned the word 'tonic'. "Tonic?" "Tonic?" Irritated, I asked for an explanation. He looked bewildered. He looked around and took in the dust and the concrete, the plastic sheets, the pans simmering over smoking wood and the little girl playing next to it. He shook his head, "No. Not tonic. Ironic." The girl continued to play with the used rubber.

"At once she was the stillness and the word, A continent of self-diffusing peace, An ocean of untrembling virgin fire: The strength, the silence of the gods were hers" ~Ghosh (Savitri) She sat in the waiting room. There was no clock there. Maybe it wasn’t a bad thing. She couldn’t make up her mind on the matter though. She glanced down and noticed the colour of her sari; crisp, starched and neatly pleated. Her son had told her that she looked stunning in it. She realised that he was getting better at flattery. Flattery would serve him well. Women liked being flattered. She liked it. She wore that sari quite often, and at special occasions. Her son would be fine. It was her daughter she was worried about. It was all her fault. She had never let go of the little one. The daughter was older than the boy but she held her closer, confided in her and brought her up as a friend. The little one was quite awkward and shy. They both had the most beautiful smiles; ones that ...

The Approach (Part I) The lightning looked like fireworks in the sky; a welcome relief from the searing Delhi heat. I walked out from my room to the common balcony to enjoy the breeze and the view better. There were several other people who were out there, smoking their illegal cigarettes and their more illegal joints, the football and hockey teams swigging fluorescent orange energy drinks after their practice sessions; all grateful for the imminent rains. An unfamiliar figure walked out to the balcony. His long wavy hair fell carelessly on his eyes. He was probably very athletic at some point. He was tall, yet bent and thin and seemed to be unsure of his new surroundings. He responded to my polite smile, walked up to me. I noticed he had a rather unusual shuffling gait. “Agastya”, he smiled and introduced himself. “Dhrubo”, I said. “Third Eco” “Second Eco” “Bengali?” he asked. “You?” “No. Raipur.” We listened to the thunder. “I’ve moved to U16.” “Awesome. I’m in U...

The Russell Square tube station has always been an amusing spot. I stood there once, smoking a cigarette. A typical reveller walked past; carrying heels in her hand, walking testily, clutching a bottle of wine. A rosé, I thought. I lit another cigarette, thinking of the time when I had tried running up the stairs in the station to prove my fitness after an injury. I lost that wager. I decided against smoking a cigarette. My call went unanswered again. A shaggy old man walked up to me and asked for a light. I decided to smoke one more. The next one followed. I looked at my watch. A child and her mother walked out of the station. The mother gave in to the nagging and returned the mask. The child lisped, “The only verdict is vengeance, a vendetta; held as a votive, not in vain.” I took those words back home.

"The fourfold caste has been created by Me according to the differentiation of Guna and Karma" ~Vyasa “Aniruddha! At this rate, our daughter will never get married.” “What good are these trading families? They are ignorant and stingy and attached to their gold. I don’t see Sunidhi getting married in such families.” “You’ve spoilt your daughter. She is too intelligent and educated for her own good.” “Nandini! I’ve worked all my life for her; so that she lives a life that befits a Goddess. Now, you’re telling me that her intelligence is her curse?” “Of what use is your high philosophy and precious education to her, when young men are intimidated by her? Most of them are their father’s minions anyway. She expects and deserves nothing short of a Brahman and no Brahman is willing to marry a trader’s daughter.” Aniruddha gazed morosely at the carpet for some time, and then, at the sun setting outside. “I should go, the King expects me. Another roll-over of the debt, ...

" Her laughter of mornings has the gaiety of flowers Her nights of darkness, the reflections of lustrous hair Her melodious nightingales, with passion sing their songs Ardent tunes, as leaves enflamed, cascading from their throats "~ Saib-e-Tabrizi Her initials on my jersey were smudged. The number card was falling off, but, the end of the marathon was in sight. The energy drink struggled to get back into the light, and I perspired as if I were back in the tropical humidity. I shut my eyes, imagined her cheering behind the lines, and pushed myself onwards to the finish. It was my first after the injury. I couldn't wait to tell her. I had hurt myself badly while training for last year's event, and didn't run that year. I was devastated, and she had pushed me through it. Through the months of August, while the last days of summer slipped away, she had absorbed my frustration, and through the dark winter days, we kept each other motivated through the recess...

"Don't tell me to go home alone!"~Waters The cherry blossoms were dripping wet in the rain. London, bleak as it were, was trying to wash off the fresh colours on the trees. This evening, it was refreshingly strong, unlike the usual spineless fare that the clouds dished out. I sat on a bench by the river, fascinated by the puddles; the big ones growing bigger, and the small ones vanishing. The pub behind me seemed warm and inviting. I wasn't alone in the cold. A pair of birds seemed to be taking in the impressive view of the cathedral and the bridges. Their silhouttes were confused in the disturbed light from the other side. The rain beat upon its subjects with renewed vigour. He seemed to be looking around, and she appeared apprehensive. With a mighty resolve, he looked straight into her eyes and a few words were spoken. She walked around him slowly, talking. He stepped back from her. She walked away. The rain was now intolerably wet. Home, I decided, would...

"Boy, when you're dead, they really fix you up. I hope to hell when I do die somebody has sense enough to just dump me in the river or something. Anything except sticking me in a goddam cemetery. People comin and puttin a bunch of flowers on you on Sunday, and all that crap. Who wants flowers when you're dead? Nobody" ~Salinger (The Catcher in the Rye) "This is your boarding pass, Mr Harry Haller. Your luggage has been checked in. The flight, I'm afraid has been delayed by five hours. We're extremely sorry about the inconvenience." I decided to amuse myself by trying to figure out how much of the delay was due to the fog in Delhi and how much was due to the snow in London. While I was engaged in this little mental exercise, I overheard a cute voice behind me saying, "Yes aunty, thanks for the paranthas! They were awesome! Such a relief. Probably my last bit of good home food for some time". I turned around to discover that the owner o...