Blowing in the Wind…

So yesterday, Ahmedabad experienced one of its worst rainstorms since the year 2010 and I know that not because I read it in the news, but because I was stuck slam bam in the middle of it and had to walk back to my college hostel in water up to my waist. Wish I’d gotten that motorboat then! Sigh!

But that was all alright because it happened in monsoon and because it was predicted. The swimming in waist deep water wasn’t, but I just chalk it up to the awesome drainage system management in this fair city of mine. Mohenjo-Daro seemed to be more developed to me right then. But these rains? Whoa! These were really something.

So here I was, minding my own business in the sweltering heat, in my sweltering outhouse, in my sweltering body and scalp when it got all cloudy and the weather turned into what my Dad just likes to call ‘sexy.’ So I like out the window and wonder how long the weather would hold before the sun scorched the clouds out of the stratosphere. I was even going to call my friends and take bets on this but before I knew it, it began drizzling and was that heaven!

Image Courtesy: Google Images.

Within moments, the drizzling had turned into a torrent and before I could step out onto the terrace to receive Zeus’ blessings, my windows and doors were flapping like gulls in high tide. I looked out my door to see a rain storm in full gale, blowing sheet upon sheet of rain into the setting sun, which was still hidden by the way.

All that was good since I could just close everything and sit in the comfortable dryness of my room, but no, that wasn’t to be allowed. The aluminum roof of my room started shivering and the wooden panels started creaking so loudly that I thought they would give away any moment. And three of them actually did so, peeling away from their joints and going down the five floors onto the street below my building.

This storm escalated so fast that I hardly had time to pack up my essentials and scram into the apartment before the whole enchilada actually blew off the roof over or on my head. Fortunately, my friend was kind enough to take me in for the night and so ended my night of sudden horror. I now realize somewhat how it must be to lose one’s everything in a hurricane or typhoon, even though I lost nothing.

Well played global warming, well played.

A Christmas Realization

“Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way”, I can hear the choir sing as they move from one street to the next, spreading the joy of Christmas.

I go to the window of my first floor apartment and gaze upon the myriad of colours that stare back at me from the multitude of lights upon the neighbour’s giant Christmas tree. The silver bells, the little drummer boy, Frosty the snowman and Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer hang there in oblivious calm and apparent joy at the birth of the saviour.

It is no longer a silent night. Noisy crowds jostling through the lanes; trying to get home for Christmas, attempting to buy last minute items, getting last minute gifts and renting out Santa costumes.

Image Courtesy: Google Images.

This winter wonderland hardly gives me any peace, so far away from home am I. In a different city, a big town. No mangers here, no real life plays of the birth, no family, just the loneliness of this room and the desolation of a lost Christmas in work.

Mother had called me, she had been crying. She said, “Please come home for Christmas” but I said I couldn't. Not if I wanted to keep my job. I needed the job, badly so. She cried some more then. I couldn't bear it and slammed the phone. Cruel, but necessary nonetheless.

It is starting to snow now. A White Christmas had been predicted but had seemed unlikely. This was a problem. How was I to go now? Yes, I’d decided to go the moment I put down the telephone. To hell with the job and to hell with this city. I could be a farming man once more, like my old man.  I’d called mama right back and told her, “I’ll be home for Christmas.”

Living in this strange city I've realized that there’s no place like home. My bags are packed, I’m ready to go. Oh little town of Bethlehem, I’m coming home.

And as for the weather, let it snow, let it snow, let it snow…

Note: This is a work of fiction. It is integrated with a collage of Christmas carols in the spirit of the season. Have a very merry Christmas and a fruitful New year!

Haiku #4 – Blight

Photo Courtesy: Google Images.

Down with infection,

A viral contagion;

Common cold it is.

Into the August Rains…

If you live in India, you’ll know that the month of August is filled with religious and cultural occasions and thus there are holidays galore, in both; offices as well as educational institutes.  I believe it was during one of these August holidays that the five of us had gathered in our apartment.

It was about twelve in the afternoon and we had just been awakened by PD and NG banging on the door. We let them in and they promptly passed smokes all around as a good morning gesture. How thoughtful! But since we were already awake and there was no point thrashing them, we lit up and ordered tea from downstairs. We settled in for a lazy day and were wondering what to do. JJ was just flipping channels on the TV, hoping for a good Malayalam or Telugu movie to be aired. I was about to get my laptop out and start working and RW was still in his blanket, half sleeping and half muttering obscenities at being woken up so early on a holiday.

Five hours later we were still deciding what to do when PD proclaimed that he could “borrow” his father’s Honda City for the day, since his Dad was on a trip to the friendly, neighbourhood dragon-country. That got our attention and we all sat looking at him with the expectation of puppies hankering for another bone. He then suggested that we take a cruise to the next city and visit a place that served killer milkshakes, and by killer, I mean Killer.

Now you might think, “Another city for a milkshake?” “That’s crazy!”

But that’s only because you might not have tasted that particular milkshake nor might have you experienced the joy of driving miles on an open highway with the four guys you trust with your life.

So the plan was made, the car was “borrowed”, the shorts were worn, the shirts were put on, the wallets were checked for inklings of cash, the car was checked for inklings of petrol… and we were off!

As soon as we were clear of the city and clear on to the highway, we rolled down the windows to a slight welcome drizzle, which added to the flowery fragrance in the car. The mixture of the two was like the fragrance of the soil that is experienced in open fields during rains. It was heavenly! And, it also helped ward off the smell of the cigarette smoke that was being puffed out by the ton inside the vehicle.

PD then put on the music system that had a CD of all our favourite sound tracks that included, “Pyaar hume kis mod pe le aaya”, “You are my Cinema”, “Californication”, “Rain over me” and so on. The loud music, along with the smoke and the fragrance of wet earth in the car took us higher than the ‘Empire State’, (if you know what I mean). We were in and remained in a ‘State of Trance’ till we reached our destination and then we only came to our senses when we piled out of the car and got drenched in the downpour that had begun.

As we ran into the milkshake parlour, I exclaimed, “That was the best road trip, EVER!”

This post is written as part of the Ambipur "Perfect Road Trip" Competition.

Haiku #3 – The Visitor

Image Courtesy: Google Images.

Gulmohar’s carpet,

Laid to welcome it back home;

Summer’s here again.

Haiku #1 – An Act of God

Zeus pierces the clouds,

And the nectar gushes forth;

Impregnating Earth.

An Unexpected Saviour

Usually, as a poet, I am not moved by the rains. It’s kind of weird, I know. It’s a bummer! But that’s what happens to me. But this year, I don’t know what happened. A certain somebody drew my attention to the particularly heavy unseasonal rain in my town and suddenly words started forming in my head. I had to literally grab a pen and some paper from company stationery and scribble furiously to get everything down before the words got washed away in the deluge of emotions that it evoked in me.

An Unexpected Saviour

These dusty days are here to stay,

With their heat and sweat and blinding glare;

And lack of shade or shadow firm,

Till as far as the eye can see.

This lonely road upon which I walk,

Is fraught with absolutely naught,

But sand and rocks and sand some more;

That beg for company not.

Into the distance rises firm, 

A dust-dervish that turns so fast,

That safety cautions me to move –                    

A little faster still.

A full-blown West Wind hurls at me

And tears form in my eyes;

It tears at me and scours my throat,

And burns my very being.

Just as despair and death creep in,

Does hope shows its blessed face,

And come pregnant clouds from that very West Wind,

That sought to destroy me.

They shower upon the disturbed sands,

To sooth them back to sleep;

Each drop a blessing in disguise,

That succour me from peril.

                                                                                 -Brendan-Anton R. Dabhi

Where Is Spring?

This is the first time that I’m putting up one of my poems on the blog. The poem is titled similar to the post, ‘Where is Spring?’ The first line of this poem is taken from P. B. Shelley’s , ‘ Ode to the West Wind’ which became part of his lyrical play, ‘Prometheus Unbound’. Percy Bysshe Shelley is considered to be one of the most eminent Romantic poets of his age in English literature. In the above-mentioned ode, he has written  about the west wind rejuvenating the land after long months of winter. However, this poem describes the utter hopelessness and despair of the human soul that has no chance at redemption.

Where Is Spring?

If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?

If Grief is here, can Joy be far behind?

These are but sayings, to be said and forgotten,

For the life you see, lives in winter eternal;

Where suffering rains from the clouds of despair,

And the smoke of sorrow threatens every ray of hope.

This clammy dampness clings tight to me,

These uneven stones cut into my feet,

This oppressive darkness seizes my heart,
This fiery cold grips my very heart.

I can hardly see but I can feel –

This Darkness closing in on me.

I went for them, oh one by one,

Played cat and mouse just for fun,

I hunted them down and tortured them,

I made them bleed and made them beg,

For the mercy I was not to give.

Yes, I killed You and You and You!

But now of what use is the truth?

YOU are gone and I am here,

Now Grief and Fear and Death haunt Me!

These shadows steal upon me now,

Those dark shadows now jump at me;

That staircase never seems to end,

The roof comes crashing down on me.

I fear that I’m losing my mind;

No time makes sense, just the season does.

This – lonely night – of cold –

Goes on and on and on…

And now at last have I realized,

There is no spring for me!

- Brendan-Anton R. Dabhi