Shail’s Nest

A flaw in this picture perfect

The colors seem to conflict

What color shall I highlight??

I know not what is right

When I dab some soft yellow

You say it is too mellow

So many shades of the color blue

You feel none are the right hue

Will bright green do the trick??

From the colors take your pick

Violet orange or maybe indigo

Which one shall make it glow??

It is always your say.

I have no role to play

So make the conflict go away

Color it your own way…

-Shail Mohan (June 2008)

Reposted from shail-mohan blogs @ sulekha.com

- a short story

I sit there amidst them. They are strewn all around me. The letters. His letters. I feel inexpressibly sad and yet there is in me a deep sense of joy seeing them. Bundle of contradictions. Isn’t that what he called me?? I smiled to myself remembering it.

“Te iubesc” he had told me one day out of the blue, asking me to repeat it. I had done so without a second thought. He had smiled triumphantly. Not knowing the reason for his smile, I had asked him what the words meant.

“You just told me that you love me” he had replied exultantly.

I was silent. I loved him. It was just that I had not yet mustered enough courage to tell him so. I knew that the incorrigible smart-ass that he was, he already knew about this. I knew, how well he read me. I consoled myself that it was not as if I had declared my love to him. He had just tricked me into repeating some words in a language I did not even know.

Strangely, I had felt no resentment. In fact I was unable to understand my own secret thrill that seemed to dominate over the apprehension I felt. Perhaps my silence had made him feel uncomfortable. He had not pursued the matter further. He had gone on to talk to me of other things. The topic of love was studiously avoided by me. Yet at the back of my mind was only one thought, of how much I loved him. It was consuming me. When it was time to leave, I had asked him to tell me once again those words that he had asked me to repeat earlier.

“Te iubesc” he said looking at me thoughtfully.

I looked at him losing myself in the depths of his eyes and repeated after him, to him, for him, deliberately this time,

“Te iubesc…”

A slow smile of wonder and elation had lit up his face and with infinite love in those deep eyes he had whispered to me,

“My bundle of contradictions!” There was so much of love in his voice.

Bundle of contradictions.

Yes, that is what I am. And who knew it better than him, the one to whom I gave my heart under the most impossible and improbable conditions?? Why oh why had I done that??

Today I sit among the letters, playful, teasing, full of love, the ache of longing and the unbearable desire to be together. I had come here with a heavy heart, desperate and in doubt. What was I looking for?? Was I hoping to find some balm to lessen this throbbing pain of loneliness?? May be I wanted affirmation that he had indeed loved me, that it had not all been just my imagination. Had his love lessened over time?? Did he love me still as much as he had?? Confident of his love and yet looking for assurance. Bundle of contradictions.

‘How is my refuge this morning??’ I read the lines written in his neat handwriting, in one of the fluttering pages. ‘You are my need and you must know that by now.’

Does he still need me as much?? How many times have I told him I was going away, always hoping with all my heart that he would never let me go?? How many times have I told him to hold me tighter even if I pushed him away?? Bundle of contradictions.

I close my eyes.

In my mind’s eye I see the ice-cream shop we frequented. The flavor of the strawberry ice cream we shared seems so real. The hours we spent at the corner tea stall sharing endless cups of tea. I can hear the songs he used to sing to me. When will I hear him sing for me again?? I whisper to myself,

Canta pentru mine iubitule…

Longing fills my heart. I miss him so much. Has he forgotten me?? Would he come for me?? Had I done the right thing surrendering my heart to him?? But then is there right and wrong in love?? Doesn’t love just happen, like ours had done?? I force my mind back and look at the letters lying around me. ‘Scrisorile’ we had named them, a collection of our initial letters.

Starting from the first I go through each and every single word that he has sent me so far. I relive the first flush of excitement of finding each other, the delicious thrill in the discovering the dormant love expressed so subtly at first and then the open confessions. I can feel palpably through those words my eyes hungrily pore over, the inability to stay away from each other even for short periods of time, the extreme longing to be together growing day by day, nay second. I feel the presence of the insurmountable hurdles we faced and our acceptance of them. Finally, the exultation of two lost souls who have reached the end of their search engulfs me.

Draga mea, draga mea he writes. Dragostea mea.

Mi’a fost dor de tine…

I close my eyes again as I see the words. I feel his love wash over me. Where have my fears disappeared?? I had come here with a heavy heart. I had been crying. I haven’t heard from him in a long time. I had wondered whether he had forgotten me. But now I only feel the warmth of his love enveloping me like a Cashmere shawl. Everything that had to be said was right here in these very letters that lay scattered all around me. What more did I want?? There was nothing more to be said. There was only waiting to do. I gather a handful of the letters and holding them close to my heart. I bend and inhale their scent. They remind me achingly of him. Among these letters, hugging your memories close, I wait for you.

Tu esti viata mea iubitule…

Mi’a fost tare dor de tine dragostea mea

Dragul meu…

Stiam ca o sa vi

Te astept iubitule…

Whirly is annoyed and justifiably so! My sympathies lie with her of course. Our association dates to a long ten years. She and I have been friends for that long. She has been of immense help to me, always there to lighten my burden! Can I say the same about myself? Sadly, I cannot! I have been unable to lighten her burden. I am ashamed to admit this. But the truth it is. I can only say that I have taken proper care of her and given her timely help when she needed it. Not that I haven’t tried, to lighten her burden I mean. But I have always needed her help and she has obligingly taken on my load so that I could be free to pursue other, higher things.

I still remember walking into the CSD canteen and seeing her for the first time. I had been fed up with the old green semi-automatic Washing Machine. Miss Green and I could not hit it off the way Whirly and I did from the word go. I would switch her on and open the tap to fill her up with water. Not having the time or patience to waste precious minutes waiting for the water to fill up, I would wander off to do something else. There I would find a book that should be back in the bookshelf or here a wet towel to be hung out in the sun. On the way I would remember that I had left the milk on the stove! Once in the kitchen I would start off with cooking and forget all about the water filling up in the WM. After finishing my kitchen work, I would be happily walking back to my bedroom, when I hear the sound of running water…Omigosh! I had left the water running!! The result? An empty tank! Then I had to wait till noon for the MES to release their afternoon quota of water!

After years of this sort of thing, I put up an application to my husband for a replacement of the said green WM with a fully automatic one. I got immediate sanction. He had experienced this emptying of tank by his forgetful wife once too often! Away we drove gaily to the CSD Canteen and looked around. I spotted Whirly (model AG-55 from Whirlpool, hence Whirly). I wanted to make her mine and I did.

In the meantime clothes had been piling up. We had just moved back to Trivandrum from Danapur in Bihar. Opening up trunks and getting the house in order was occupying most of our time. With Whirly home, my burden lightened considerably. I could hear her humming away in her corner. It was music to my ears, that hum! I had been breaking my back for some days. All that was over now. I smiled indulgently at my new ally. Remorse filled me when I thought I could do nothing for her in return!

I could make life a little easier for her…but would my children allow that? The number of clothes they seemed to have! And the way they threw them about and dirtied them! Every morning saw an even huger pile to wash!! I was apologetic to Whirly, but she took it sportingly, the poor dear! Children will be children, was her attitude.

Even a patient WM like Whirly can be pushed to the wall. And my children did just that. The angels that they were when they were younger, they seemed to turn to demons when they grew up. They would hide dangerous things in their pockets to trip Whirly! Pens, plastic scales, pins, coins, paper money, movie tickets, question papers, keys, toffees…..!! I took to emptying the pockets of their trousers and shirts before putting the clothes in. I gave them stern lectures about wasting my valuable time. They were grown up and had to take care of their things! Mostly it fell on deaf ears. Sigh, it was easier when they were littler. One just had to roll ones eyes! Trying to be a Hitler with grown up children is a no-go affair!

One day I found Son Senior’s purse, pen and other assorted items in his trouser pockets yet again. I told him, I was sorry, but I couldn’t wash his pen, purse, question paper etc. I washed only clothes in my WM! A wide grin was his reply. Son Junior thinks, he should follow his brother’s example in everything! It is his turn now to put all sundry things for wash! I returned his purse to him and repeated the same thing I did to his brother. I don’t wash purses, coins or toffees either. If he was particular that they be washed, here was the soap powder, there was the bucket, and he could do the washing himself. Another grin was what I got in reply.

Today Whirly is justifiably annoyed. Yet again, a coin has slipped through my aged fingers and found its way inside her. There she was going ‘katak – katak, katak – katak’. I rushed to her when I heard the sound, emptied the water and took out the offending coin. She pretended that nothing was wrong and it was alright. But I know she is hurt and upset (justifiably so). She wouldn’t tell me so. She knows how much I depend on her. I am only the ‘taker’ in this relationship. She has been the ever-generous ‘giver’, always. My dependence and need for her is what makes her feel wanted and the only thing that keeps her ticking! After all, isn’t that what we all want? To be needed by someone??

I can hear her now. She is back to her gentle hum.

Drawing courtesy Vishakh Mohan

Hunger burns scorches and chars

Singes my flesh, sears my soul.

The fiery flame rises, flares and blazes

Turning to ashes, the heart’s desires.

I snatch at the scraps thrown my way

Clutch at the straws that blow my way

Nothing is mine its all half-eaten

When hunger gnaws I grab, I’m fallen.

They throw me bits and pieces

Leftovers that nobody wants

From laden tables and heaped plates

Their full hearts, the even fuller lives.

When the smoldering flame gains and pains

And the longing grows, is too much to bear

I bow my head, I bury my pride

I stretch my arms to beg for alms.

I am an urchin, a lonely waif

Looking for one who has something to spare

Foraging bins, roaming the streets

Dreaming wild dreams that will never be….

- Shail Mohan (2007)

Reposted from shail-mohan blogs @ sulekha.com

Love is in the air….

Those of you in places where spring is in the air might nod your head in affirmation and say,

“Oh yess!! Love is indeed in the air!!”

That is not the case here in God’s own land of Kerala. We are in the throes of summer. It’s hot and humid. But what does season matter when love fills your heart?? Has love ever been hindered by things so mundane??

Champ as true a lover as any has not let the season dampen his ardour for his lady-love. He is in love and seasons be damned. He hangs over the wall, rests his huge head on the cement wall and gazes soulfully at his lady love.

“Woof!” he says gently in his deep voice, “Woof!”

He does not want to frighten his precious lady love with his real macho voice he uses to frighten off the crows, cats, the postman and also the milkman

She, the queen of his heart pretends not to have seen the love-sick suitor staring longingly at her over the boundary wall. She walks hither and thither, pretending to inspect the surroundings. There is an unmistakable spring in her steps. Whether it has escaped Champ’s notice I wouldn’t know. But it certainly hasn’t escaped mine. The girl is pretence personified. She sees the lovelorn suitor, hears his muffled addresses, but pretends ignorance!! Instead she looks around as if for the elusive cat or the pesky bird and acts quite the busybody!

“Woof!” says the love-sick suitor once again.

Out of the corner of her eye she gives him a glance while running away in the opposite direction. She peeks over the wall from vantage point searching for the cat in the next-door neighbor’s yard. She could show him a thing or two if the cat appeared right now. Her agility for instance as also her shrill bark. Not that she has to. He has been hearing her shrill bark for days now!! Probably that’s something that attracted him to her in the first place!!

Champ tries some little yelps to get her attention.

She walks on tiptoe and rummages among the dried leaves which are aplenty in the backyard. She looks around aimlessly giving him a brief stealthy glance before going back to her foraging. She finds the roti she has hidden the last night or was it the last week?? With it held gently in her mouth, she walks daintily to vantage point and sits down with paws stretched out. Quite unconcernedly, she chews on a day old, or is it a week old, roti making a pretty picture for Champ to feast his eyes on. He looks at her adoringly and says once again,

“Woof!”

Her eyes stray to him once again but she is back to her meal, chewing the muddy roti with full concentration. Having finished, she sits there contemplating things…..

Ahh…. here comes that cat.

“Bow wow wow wow wow…” she runs after it barking in her shrillest voice, showing off. Champ sighs and watches for some time. His legs are aching with standing up for so long on his hind legs at the wall. He drops down and trots away with another sigh…

He will be back later to see her after taking a round of his own house. After all he had his work to do too.

‘She’ is Goofy, the one I call Cleopatra too. Here is the beauty who has captured Champ’s heart.

Without realizing it, I suddenly burst out laughing. I couldn’t help it. He looked at me a trifle offended. Perhaps this had not been the reaction he had been expecting?? But then this had not been what I had been expecting either. I had lulled myself into some sort of false security in a relationship that could never give any. I took a deep breathe as unobtrusively as I could and said,

“Awww…. come on Ranjit, you didn’t think I had taken all this seriously??”

He looked at me a little dumbfounded. Perhaps he did not expect me to retort this way?? I laughed heartily some more. Wiping away the tears of mirth, I looked at him amusedly.

“Did you think I believed in all that soul-mate mumbo-jumbo?”

He looked at me warily. My response had clearly thrown him off-guard. He was not taking chances now. He remained silent waiting for me to continue. Was that hurt I could see in his eyes?? Hurt pride or…

“Don’t be so apologetic about the whole thing now!” I remonstrated.

“We both had a good time. Didn’t we??” I smiled at him, letting the question hang.

He looked at me in the eye and then away. Was there disappointment too in his eyes??

Two years is a long time. Two years of living in a dream world of love for each other. Endless letters and countless phone calls and days of togetherness… For a moment I let my mind wander remembering the many hours we spent in each other’s company. Time just flew when we were together.

Our meeting had been so accidental. We were both at the wrong place at the wrong time. We later amended that to ourselves as being at the right place at the right time. Hadn’t we found each other?? Somehow we had got talking at that first meeting and gelled so well. From then one we were inseparable. We could not stay away from each other. It did not matter one bit that Ranjit was married. We found ways to be together and spend whatever time we could in each others company. We promised each other eternal love. We were going to be together in all our lives to come.

Yet here we were. It was now time to say our goodbyes. Ranjit wanted to move on. He had suddenly woken up to his duties towards his family. I had no complaints. I had always known in some deep recess of my heart this day would come. Even the euphoria of our love did not cloud that fact from me. I had never let myself lose sight of it. Yet…

I pulled my wandering mind back to the present and looked at him questioningly. He had not answered my question.

“We did have a good time. Didn’t we??” I repeated.

“Yes” He answered a bit reluctantly.

“Now, come on Ranjit. What are you looking so glum about??” I tried to hide the impatience in my voice. I wanted to be away as soon as possible. But I did not want him to know that.

“Cheer up now! Keep the memories and move on! Go back and be happy” I said cheerfully patting his arm.

I sat back and watched him, trying to keep a relaxed front. All I wanted to do was get up and walk away. I wondered whether I was doing the right thing. Was he let down that I did not behave the way a conventional jilted lover would do?? Should I have let my tears flow?? I couldn’t. I am not made that way.

I caught myself drumming my fingers hinting at my impatience and stopped myself immediately. He stood up and I followed suit trying to make it look unhurried.

“Bye sweetheart…” he said and I almost fell back on the chair I had vacated. It hit home. I stared at him unable to hide that tiny spark of anger in my look. He winced. I pulled myself together, hiding it quickly.

“Old habits die hard eh Ranjit??” I teased him flashing a smile. I held out my hand and formally shook his.

“Bye Ranjit. Do well and be happy!”

I declined his offer to walk me to the car and stood watching him walk to the lift. One last wave and he was gone. I walked slowly with measured steps to my car which was parked a little away. I pushed the hair off my face, opened the door and settled down. Ranjit must have reached his room. He would surely be watching me. I left the car windows open, switched on the music, reversed my car and drove out of the hotel compound shaking my head to the music.

About a kilometre away, I stopped the car and wound the windows up.

Then, I cried.

This was written for the Sulekha Challenge 6, where we had to write something beginning with the line ‘Without realizing it, I suddenly burst out laughing.’

Reposted from shail-mohan blogs @ sulekha.com

Having been reading The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy just before dozing off, in all probability I should have been dreaming of Zaphod Beeblebrox, the two headed three armed Galactic President who I am told has been voted the Worst Dressed Sentient Being in the Known Universe for, hold your breath, a total of seven times!! Just the candidate for any self respecting brain to unleash on you in your dream, don’t you think?? Or else there is Marvin the chronically depressed robot with Genuine People Personality, the poetry spouting Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz of the Galactic Hyperspace Planning Council, the researcher Ford Prefect from some small planet somewhere in the vicinity of Betelgeuse or even the measly earthling Arthur Dent whom Ford took along when the Earth was demolished (omigosh!!) to make way for the new hyper-spatial express route. With so many likely candidates swimming around, my brain digs around and finds the unlikeliest of them all to shove into my dream!!

I have never gone ga-ga over him like the millions of them out there. A good actor alright, nice face, great body, packs a mean punch when it comes to bashing up the villains and his dance moves are fit to feast your eyes on. However, I can take him or leave him. Not like the other one the Junior B who makes my aged heart go a-flutter just as his father the Senior B did in days of yore. Come to think of it he does that even today. Sigh!! And yet who tiptoes into my dream on that Tuesday afternoon while I snooze?? Hrithik Roshan, I tell you!! How unfair!

There I was in strange building. Dare I hope it was in some little known planet light years away in the uncharted backwaters of the unfashionable end of the Western Spiral arm of the Galaxy as it says in the book?? Naaah! It seemed like a regular earth building. Sheesh!! I was in a huge sort of hall, ornate and empty. Don’t ask me what I was doing there because I don’t know. This fellow, Hrithik Roshan appears out of nowhere and sidles up to me with that charming sexy smile of his turned full on. Probably the self same one that floored and floors Suzanne and the rest of the gang of his female fans. Not me. I am immune to it.

I look at him quizzically. We haven’t been introduced to each other and he is a stranger to me after all. He comes closer to me, the 1000 watt smile not faltering at my lack of response and stands there looking down at me. Yes, what do you want?? My eyes have the questioning, no-nonsense look. Now hold your breath again while I tell you what happened next and don’t you dare go rolling on the floor laughing your silly heads off just because I am telling you the truth as it is. He tells me to wash his hands for him. Not that I could see they were dirty or grubby in any way. Well-manicured, neat and clean are how they looked to me. Aww come on, I told you not to laugh!! Oh well…I know its kind of funny and all.

If you ask me, it should be Suzanne to whom he should be going to if he wants his hands soaped and washed. Where do I come in this?? Beats me. Mystifying stuff your brain comes up with on unsuspecting you when helpless you sleep. I am sure there are countless females other than Suzanne all over Bharatvarsh and outside who would give their eyeteeth for doing just that. Yet I am the one chosen to wash his already spotlessly clean hands. And wonder of wonders, I am doing just that, instead of telling him ‘go take a walk’! Here is where I register my formal protest against my brain for coming up with and making me do things in my dream that I would not in my waking state.

I take the liquid hand-wash, soap his hands and wash them under the tap in the sink. He is charm personified, all smiles. And no, I am not, which does not seem to faze him one bit. While I am wiping his hand dry with a spotless white, no not pink, towel suddenly and mysteriously the place begins to fill up. I hear someone call his name and then there are others on the scene. I look on as his fans and admirers surround him. He throws one last smile my way before he is swallowed by the crowd and…..

My dream is over. I wake up. I realize one thing. Throughout , I had not returned his smile even once in my dream. Strange isn’t it, considering people always ask me why I smile all the time!!

Post script: The Lord and Master has declared a state-wide mourning of four days as I dreamed of Hirthik Roshan and not him.

This post was showcased at sulekha.com. Reposted from shail-mohan blogs @ sulekha.com

I love darkness

the inky blackness

that cloaks

and holds

in its mysterious folds

what I wish to conceal

and never reveal.

I love darkness

its color black

which with open arms takes in

and clasps

deep within its heart

all colors beautiful

and never lets go.

I love darkness

the black nights

when naked feelings remain secrets

though without masks

never disclosed

nor exposed

and hidden from even open eyes.

I love darkness

the dark nights

when tears of joy or sorrow

passion or pain

have the same wetness

the taste of salt

and can never be told apart…

-Shail Mohan (Oct 2007)

A lazy afternoon about ten years back, I was relaxing having finished all my work. I was expecting my junior Martian home any minute. The school year-ending exams were going on. That particular day he had a test in Science. Soon he bounds into the room I was in, as is his habit on his return from school.

“How was your exam?” I inquire on seeing him, the stock question most Moms ask of their children returning after giving an exam.

“It went well” his reply

“That’s nice!” I smile.

“I am hungry!!” he says. So what’s new?? I think to myself as I get up to give him his lunch.

Out of the blue he asks me,

“Amma, what is ‘genitals’??”

Hmm…. That’s an easy one to answer. What brought on the question out of the blue, I wondered for a second.

Before I can answer him, he quips,

“Its there in my science question paper…”

In the Science question paper?? Now I am nonplussed. I knew that they did not have anything about genitals as yet in their syllabus. So how could it make its appearance in the question paper??

“How many genitals are there…” he reads out from the question paper.

What?? What was that again?? Did he just read how many ‘genitals’??

Now I am amazed and curious. I snatch the question paper from him to read for myself.

“I did not know the answer to that question, so I left it unanswered.” he tells me gloomily.

I quickly glance at the paper.

There it is,

“How many genitals are there in a metric tonne??” Oh really??

I am actually amused and stunned and also annoyed. How skillfully the word ‘genitals’ has been used to replace ‘quintals’!! Was this a printing mistake or a deliberate practical joke by the people where the printing of the question paper had been done?? Be it either, what were the teachers or the authorities of the school doing passing on question papers with mistakes to children?? And finally, why had no teacher come forward to correct the mistake at least on the day the children were giving the exam?? Negligence and carelessness are not qualities that should go with teaching or even a school as a whole. This was sheer laxity on their part.

When my husband came home, I presented the facts to him. He ruled out publicity of any sort. He took the question paper away from me saying that he would see to it. Actually I haven’t seen the question paper since. I think he was obviously worried to let me lay my hands on it!! I did tell him I wanted the paper back as I had plans of writing to the Readers Digest column. But no luck, I never got to see the paper again!! He did visit the school and meet the Principal. As to what exactly transpired I don’t know. But knowing my husband the way I do, it must have been the gentlest of raps possible on the knuckles for the Principal or teacher concerned.

Reposted from shail-mohan blogs @ sulekha.com

Let me be the song

playing on your lips

sing me to your fill

softly as you will.

Let the notes rise

as high as the skies

and dip so low

to the oceans below.

Twirling and curling

twisting and turning

make melody flow

now fast now slow

As the drums in my heart

in rhythm to yours beat

with your lips beloved mine

make me music divine.

-Shail Mohan (Dec 2007)

Reposted from shail-mohan blogs @ sulekha.com