On a cold January evening
when all is bleak and dull
we crowd the house we once frequented
as children,as teenagers
clad in school uniforms
So many new tunes have set in
within us,amongst us
during the years we failed to meet up
new strings some have acquired
not losing the old charm
Sitting by the lovely fire
we recall the old days
sour punishments became delightful
those harsh words have become jokes
remembering Neuhof
And we part ways again so soon
few hours take us far
we hold so dear memories of brown
those of teachers much to say
of the place none forgets
The zipping and zapping of the train is a nuisance to many. The tooting and honking make a thousand people cross. The presence of the almost infinite numbers of bodies, that too of human being’s alone in all shapes and sizes lured many to brave being stuck in the snail paced traffic on the road under the scorching heat or the ever thickening fog. But there are some of us who think otherwise. So, here’s to all those who have enjoyed brilliant moments in the Delhi Metro.
I have been rather queer, I am told, for loving the train so much. The fascination began with Thomas the tank engine, not only in childhood but well into adulthood. The idyllic portrayal of Thomas along with his engine mates Percy, Toby (my favourite) in the
So the love for metro trains began much before they started running but no claim could I make of the fascination for the streets that had been dug up to make way for them. I was unfortunate enough not to ride much when the yellow line stretched only from Central Secretariat to Vishwavidyalaya. Lajpat Nagar IV was way too far from the stations and I hardly visited north campus except on my annual pilgrimage to Kamla Nagar. Even on such occasions, I was forced to take the amazing three legged auto rickshaws (mind you, I love them too especially after one friend suggested that they look like moving tuna tin!) This led to a rather late encounter but nevertheless blossomed into a faithful and trusting relationship. It finally began when the yellow line stretched from North Campus to the neighbouring Haryana. Much to my annoyance it was a short lived one, circumstances changed and one is forced not to see the trains on a regular basis. But the metro memories are far too deeply etched and lingered on like peculiar aromas emanating from fellow commuters that fail to travel distances and stuck in closed air conditioned compartments.
Mornings were the most thrilling time to spend in the metros as the whole of
The actual journey itself doesn’t quite match the excitement of the platform or the art of boarding the fast train. It’s a time when reality/ unreality hit you. Zooming through the heart of
Rajiv chowk and Kashmiri gate provide free entertainment of a very different nature. We are allowed some kind of relief if one is on the way to north and the complete opposite when heading south! The influx of people is just indescribable, the stations of extreme changes. One tends to wonder if one could spread out the population of
But there were days when one loses these indulgences of observation, when you have company; some living beings or those conjured up by means of the written words. They make you oblivious of being in the belly of
Then before you realise, metro riding days are halted and you are left wondering when you will sit on the metro floor again.
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| Passion Meringue Pie for niece Catherine's Birthday |
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| Lemon cake with chocolate butter icing for cuz Heidi |
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| Cakes galore! |
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| Gorgeous cupcakes by S |
A million furlong away,
across the happy isles
you sit
cross legged,
on the mountain top
watching the sun descend
in the horizon
the waves dance for you
the warm sand
beneath your feet
stretches a chasm
between here
and there
only ties
of dreams
that bind us
in the night
when the world rests
you appear
like a rainbow
swiftly
disappear
when the birds sing
invoking
a glorious day
utterly forlon
i welcome
what's given
the glorious hours
ahead,hoping
it won't be long
till you appear
in this chaotic place
There isn't much choice
at hand;
to choose between
a black and a blue biro
between a pair of trousers and a skirt.
Deadlines
to be met, or
ignored,
or pushed a wee bit further
Lectures to attend,
essays to hand in,
Promises to be kept
and just a bit more time
to reflect
on life
under the stars.
Fears
deep fears, great big ones
now and then:
missing the next metro
missing the next episode
of my favourite TV show
And deeper fears
of unable to tweet,
that Facebook will die
a natural death,
not being on the passenger list
on the flight heading to aizawl
for the Holidays
A hard life indeed
such dilemmas.
I wonder what President Ma'am will think
If i landed on her doorstep
With my suitcase
overflowing with crisis
(mind you)
i bought it at a Louis Vuitton sale!
