TROOP TALES

Why am I doing this--

Practically,the whole of my family,has had a love affair with the uniform for decades.
From being a part of the British Indian Army extending to flying fancy planes for the forces. Giving away their daughters to the men who do the above. Sending away their own daughters to adorn the wonderful greens and blues.

Anyhow,as a consequence to everyone being somehow related to the uniform,I have had the pleasure to travel in all directions and make "fauji friends" and hear about their adventures and mis adventures.

That just leaves me.I have successfully managed to fight off the pressure and give the road extensively traveled--a miss.Blame it on the sloppy habits. yaawn.
But since the Uniform and its stories are so close to my heart..I have.. LO BEHOLD, decided to share it with the world.

This section of my blog is dedicated to my family and friends.
Actually its meant to be a democratic blog.. he he..by,of and for them. For starters,the stories are borrowed except for the ones where I write out of my own experiences. These are the repeated stories I have heard over and over again at the numerous dinner and cocktails.
So, this is real life drama in a soldier and his family's life which is filled with laughter,love,bravery and a few tears.

Celebrating Nothingness

Recently I have started a new..well..lets call it a hobby. I have started making threads of cotton. The aim here being,making the thread as long as possible without breaking it.
The first time I saw this incredible art in progress was as a little girl. My Aji(gran) would sit in the perfect winter sun,her silver hair catching the gleam. Balls of cotton and a basket of knitting yarn would be perfectly perched near her ankles as she would sit for hours,diligently spinning prayer threads with her expert fingers. All of this done productively,,ofcourse.

On the other hand,there is me. Day to day , I find myself sitting with a roll of cotton with my fingers moving in a rythmic action of rolling the raw cotton and producing a long thread. I do it when I mindlessly watch Tv,when on the phone,talking to my mother and a list of other things. I realised when ,at it Im not really thinking anythning. Even if Iam, I never seem to remember. A conscious effort to think or to bring a thought to mind,usually snaps the thread.

Besides that,there are days when I walk up to a coffee shop with a view.
Translated: where I can see people go by.And I can do that for hours.Just sit there and watch them go by.
Sometimes it happens over music,sometimes when Im thinking about the characters and their lives from the book Im reading and sometimes to fill awkward silences,which were intended to be conversations.

When I see these people go by,I wonder what their lives would be like,thier jobs and families.My mind taps all possibilities in that 4-5 sec it takes them to cross the glass window i sit at.
The boys,girls,old,young,younger,men,women,vendors,beggars,the well dressed,ads on the shopping bags,umbreallas,the explosion of colours,arguements,happiness and the banter.I absorb it all.

May I now admit,I absolutely love the feeling. I love to make neverending threads of cotton,I love peeling the apple skin in one go,I love to tear the corner of a peice of paper in continuation till it becomes like a paper string or a streamer.

All of this done completely mindlessly,ofcourse. I guess I like to see continuity. To see things in progess without any obstruction. To see it take a form very different from how it started originally. Iam also saying I dont like to see breaks. I dont like the sound of a snap. I dont like discontinuity.
And when the thread does snap..I take the ends and join them together,like nothing really happened and continue my journey.Continue my journey like those thousands of people do as they walk past the coffee shop. Continue to the destination.

This desire of appreciating continuity brings to me a blissful state of mind. Which is far far away from any worry or anguish. Where I can celebrate futility.All by myself. All I need is me.

Guilty Pleasure

i leave behind rings of guilt
and puffs of anger
trampling my conscince
as i bring you closer to my lips
i inhale the truth
i close my eyes in pleasure
and release the bitterness
my lips curl into a viscious smile
and for that moment,i forget
i forget,what life is throwing at me
a truth i do not want to face
and the day i decide to face it
you will be missed
my guilty pleasure..

BubbleGum Boy

PoP
you say the strangest things
POP
I like it

you give me that look
POP
it makes me smile

i get down from the wrong side of the bed
POP
then i hear your voice

questions keep me up
POP
you give me the answers

i fear the first few steps
POP
you give me the push

i ask for a peck
POP
you give me a kiss**

i ask for this
POP
you give me this & that

Move over chocolate
this is my BubbleGum Boy
POP*
* *
V

I Tried

I tried not to look at him
at his deep brown eyes

I tried not to smell his cologne
not to lean to close

I tried not to stare
those ocassions were rare

I smiled to myself
when i saw his uneven teeth

And I tried not to look at his mouth
his constanly parting lips

I tried to hear what he said
no sound reached my ears

I tried to stop my pounding heart
my ramblings and my fears

I tried to keep away
tried not to sway

But nothing could have stoppped us then


I wish i had tried harder
to stop what followed
to melt that feeling
to freeze the moment
and steal the second
when your lips touched mine
and stirred my soul
sealed as one
we promised to stay forever and always.



________________xxx_________________

And then one fine day
you became you
and all that was left was me
i still tried to save "us"
but it wasn't meant to be


Now,Im reminded of that day,
when i tried to look away
just one thought makes me sader
I should have tried harder.

A letter to "YOU"

Self pity,disgust and disappointment.

That's what i'v been loathing in lately. Honestly, I was zonked. Zonked enough not to write about it and writing is my agony aunt. Zonked!!
Every time i shut my eyes it haunts me like a cheap reminder I desperately want to get rid of.
My temples thump to the horrid tune of your words. Misery is taking over my body.

The way you looked at me,that fierce look. Unsettling and intense,like you could read my mind and sense my fears. I know i kept looking away like you were not having an effect on me,like your opinion meant little,like your sarcastic laugh could not knock me down.

It was wrong you kept me in a loop till the very end. We started this together but unlike you, I wanted it to end in the "right way". I wanted to be with you,so bad. I only realized it much later unfortunately you,sensed my dilemma. Too bad. A double heart is can be a bad thing. Good for you,you knew what you wanted.
You wanted her. I was number two.

After effects haven't been pretty at all. Desperate pleas turned to disappointments which in turn flowed as tears. Tears of misery. Plain misery.

I've been counseled,massively spoken to,taken to a corner for a chat,consoled over the phone. I've tried over eating, excessive drinking, mindless cinema. For starters, the experienced were right. Nothing works,NOTHING.
Nothing and nobody can take away what i feel.
The more I'm told, the more I want to stop hearing altogether.

OK..enough now. I'm done. Done the way I'm treating myself. Done the way I feel.
I gave you a good shot.It didn't work. Lets face it. It wasn't meant to be.
Like they say,there will be others.

Wait..wait you think I'm a sloppy heartbroken dejected love sick puppy. Don't you?

Well if you ( the reader) thinks that's what this is about..SURPRISE..you are wrong.

It's about my 1st ever rejection at a job interview.(Gotcha!! ;) but boohoo the sentiment is similar.STING. OUCH.