For the Love of the Delhi Metro

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 Island of Sodor may be disjointed with the super fast Delhi metros in the 21^st century. But nevertheless, they are all trains and they take you places.

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 Delhi seems to descend to the stations, much better than the evenings when we all look like deflated Christmas balloons stuffed in a box ready to be thrown away. My station was never one of those packed with living beings and I always had enough air to breathe and get extensive space to stretch my short or rather never ending legs! Sometimes I wonder if the metro actually uses the infamous IST for it is punctual in its own way. The attempt to board the train were always rather exciting and has never failed to amuse me. One needs to be clever and master the art of standing at the correct angle from the train doors to be among the first ones to enter the train. This too without being stared at by the easily excitable university students nor shoved aside by the incredibly strong aunties with one hand firmly holding tiffins and with the other side clutching their handbags on their way to the secretariat where chai and samosas await them. Men are to be left alone as gone were the days when women did not have separate compartment. All I know is that many brave men who dared enter or pass through women’s compartment were never left without a singe; by the stare or mighty bark of the women.

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 Delhi without actually seeing those that signify the city makes you wonder what the core of this city really is. You are in the heart of the city, deep within the dark tunnel where in between the stations one does not see stark contrasts. You then begin to wonder, what and where exactly is the city. After a few stops boredom begins to creep in and that’s exactly the point when you begin to look for fun within what you are provided with inside the train. You practise your rustic devnagari script and although it has hardly been oiled often after you’ve left school, you realise that the intricate lines and joins do still make sense to you. But you at the same time know very well that with that ability does not come freely the process of understanding. Boom!! Shoes! Oh what fun it is to read them (rather then the sparse advertisements). One after the other, you are presented with all sorts, really, from the flats to the unbelievably high platforms. It doesn’t matter who wears them, pedicured or dirty feet, they still are shoes. But how long can one engage in shoe spotting then you look for familiar faces. The fact that one takes the same train each day does not guarantee that you’ll find familiar faces, you do not get metro friends unlike facebook or G+ friends.

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 Delhi in a more systematic nature. You get new sets of people coming in and leaving at each passing station, but hardly at race course. I reckon Mr Singh does not have many visitors!

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 Delhi, beneath the heat, dust and the traffic jams where popular signifiers of the city like power cuts, stray animals, and beggars are replaced by a whole new set.

Then before you realise, metro riding days are halted and you are left wondering when you will sit on the metro floor again.

Cakes & Pies (Album in the making)

Passion Meringue Pie for niece Catherine's Birthday

Lemon cake with chocolate butter icing for cuz Heidi

Cakes galore!

Gorgeous cupcakes by S

Aha!

Well, i haven't written in ages and last night as i stalked some bloggers and their work,i guess i'm encouraged to do it again. Anyhow, it's a really fab time for me to take this blogging seriously; i've got a new whole exciting year coming up! I'm done with Uni for the time being and haven't got any serious commitment to thwart my creativity, so i will be trying to write more.

We all go through phases in our writings as we do in life which itself shows the life that is in the art of writing. So, this phase sees me doing lots of baking and taking photographs and hopefully those will stir up a poem or two or much more.

I am relocating yet again for sometime and i guess new exciting subjects will come out.

Here's to a new phase with wide open eyes and spring in my feet!

Away

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

Suffering

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!

bye

Why do we have to say goodbye?? I'm pretty rubbish at it, i can't get used to it. Those whoi love and care are leaving this place one by one, looking for greener pasture. There will be time for us to meet again, but i hate to think that it will all be different settings and not the Delhi that we always loved...right from amar colony! and yea Shu's 'the afternoon after tea' hypotheis..not to forget all the psychological disorders that you've diagnosed in us M...starting from me being called a Bi-polar, followed by OCD...how we loved it all!


And all those tea sipping sessions at BS when we didn't even feel like looking at each other nor start a chat. Avoidance theory and how good we were at it, then we were hit on the head when all was almost gone...a few mean cherished months we had and it was time for you to leave M..!


The bread, the butter and freezing nights at Dhaba, pippie, how you loved it and the one with the white wind shield jacket had a change for us on Christmas day, we were saved though you've been insane since that gloomy day, right? So have i become one too, saying goodbye!

Like I’ve said earlier,

It’s not the time to pluck the fruits of a tree
and the flowers aren’t yet ready to bloom…
harvest season is a long way off.
I wish I could change the season
thawing Jack Frost on the ground
may be, just may be …
the lovely sun will decide to appear
One of these days and hasten it all

all that I wait and long for…
And yours

But why do you have to tell me
Tell me that you’re going for sometime
Where will I be then?
So, what will I do?
I hate to wait without you.

She

She does not ask for much
But to be heard and respected
For virtue of being a person
Not for being ‘just a lady’,
But one made in the image of God

Views many has she got
All may not fair nor right
Who says the world is only black or white
There are indeed various shades of grey
But the moment they come tumbling out of her mouth
They are received with the bitterness of the forbidden world
And they call her a name, in their mind
They gave her a brand, she knows not

…and she is a woman,
Happy to be alive
Enjoying what her maker has given her,
The joy of learning new things
The freedom of getting ideas in her head…
The pain of being broken
The irrepressible hope of perfect love
And there may be peace in the world
And the hungry will be fed

No one can stop her
For she’s made to be her
Just her and no one else

So, let her be…

The creator wanted her to be

2nd

It does not come easy as i have always claimed,
purely a construct, brick by brick and thoughts upon thoughts
each letter, each word counts
i have dug them out from deep within and from the shallow waters i have borrowed
some have disappeared in the thin air
in the space between you and i
maybe some...you have kept them safe!
I want to write the ending lines as i close my eyes
pretending to sleep...
that too is a pretension,
but i cannot go any further
and do i really want to, i ask myself
...
just another word,
another letter atleast
maybe you can write again,

but do i really want you to write...
i am wondering
time will tell
for this seems to be a wrong season
for the snow to fall
and the flowers to bloom...
Time will tell,
i tell myself

STOKED!!

From the west you drifted by

an icy cold draft was what i had felt

With the passing of long winter months

you've become a cool breeze...

making the Summer heat bearable

As Summer passes, i hope you'll stay on...

Be my Monsoon wind and the blessed rain

my Autumn sunshine on the golden leaves

the joy of my Spring

and the comfort of the Winter to come!

It's hard to retire in the night,

the peacocks sing a glorious lullaby

beneath my windows.

In the renowned heat,

I'm frozen to my bones, my joins start aching

while the world outside says sweat it out.

I've rearranged my pillow hundred times

counting all the sheep in this land.

I've run out of podcasts

I am out of my wits.

Shu's arriving tomorrow, well today actually,

the boys are coming at nine

i have to read with them for an hour.

Books upon books

sitting aimlessly in the shelves

waiting to be touched

explored!

I've come to you for help,

i know you are there.

I know you see me

fighting

to see you at this moment

just a soft hush from you is enough

then i'll be in a dreamland.

I reckon

It’s about what I’ll wear and eat,
about what I’ll do this afternoon, tonight and tomorrow.
I wonder if the rain will come before noon,
Maybe it will not throughout the week.
When am I going to bump into the guy I fancy?
Where and how
And I reckon, all day long

Few years down the line…
Waving at the kids as they happily jump into the school bus
Packing lunch for him and kiss him as he leaves for work
Wondering what I will do as I sit alone in the house
Put on the washing and try to write a bit
Replying emails and paying the bills
And then I reckon, all day long

Lost in the world of dreams
I don’t remember where you are
Across the bridge or sitting right next to me
I wish I could find you and be held by you
I am lost in the world of the fear of NOT
That my desires will never be fulfilled
When I don’t even really know what I desire

Find me as I sit here,
Trying to think of you
Trying to look for you
Trying to long for you

Teach me how to love You

(For the 'upper dingy babes')

delhi heat

Not the night you'd fancy,

thermometer is restless so are the mosquitoes,

lizards peeping out from the cracks on the wall

more are hidden behind the book shelf

having the time of their life.

Dolly's singing silver and gold,

it's still very true for I'm the owner of none.

I look for fun

in the Indian Constitution,

yes i do,

well, cause i have to!

It's never ending ...

I'm becoming an expert

in nailing the mosquitoes down.

Till it's way past midnight,

i crave flap jack,

i want to go bed

but not wanting to sleep

and not wanting

to get up in the morning too

It's a topsy turvy world!

I'll get by,

when you're gone

I'll be fine ...

As the rosy fingered dawn appears,

I'll walk up and down the streets,

I'll read as long as i can,

I'll do some chores here and there

tend the flowers till they bloom.

I'll sit by the road and take a deep breath

watching the parchment like sky

dotted with fluffy clouds

with the running of the sun.

I'll sit on the rocks till they turn cold,

when the silvery moon appears

i'll listen to the night owls

hunting for food.

I'll watch the peacocks retire for the night

as their glorious feathers are put to rest,

gently hanging on their sides.

Then i'll lie down and drift away

in the bosom of sleep

and i will dream

my senses will be numbed

i won't feel a thing

without a care

gently i'll dream on

untainted by pain

one thing will remain intact

though the knight has to go away

his valour will linger on.

saturday night

A saturday night, i miss you dear,
a half finished book on my table
under the glowing lamp
i stare into space
wishing it was you instead!

It's the last night of january and it's still cold
wish you were here rather than the duvet
I shiver in this cold room
with an icy cold heart within.

....

i travel the road...
i wish i had never taken!

Walking with head upright,
a bending heart
under the lovely January sun
in the utter stillness
when all is at rest

I feel the gnawing of something, within
The clinking of metal chains
Inside my ribs.

Had i not saw you
on the hot Sunday evening,
Had i sat under the peepal tree
all alone
had i read by the sea
had i not met you
At all...

I would not be sitting by the bougainvilleas
with the used paper cups strewn all over

Rather smelling lavender
without a care,
for i would not have known you at all.

Because it's Christmas

Dinner is ready, the beans (the ones that Mum has sent) have come out of the pressure cooker, rice is ready and my experiment with salad has gone awry but anyhow it will get eaten and some leftovers from yesterday has gone into the microwave. Apart from the 'O Holy Night' and the occasional aeroplanes flying across the sky, there's hardly any noise nor movement around me. It's that time of the year when all my cooking instincts come out, though i do not know from where they pop out, as for the remaining seasons of the year i very often choose to live on others' cooking and of course the good old Wai Wai.
Well, the Christmas stars are hanging on the wall, the baubles are everywhere and all the reds and greens that i could find in the house are lying here and there. To do away with the conventional Christmas tree and wreaths, i hang green tea coasters on the wall ( please feel free to picture my deco in your mind!), candles are on the window sill, stockings and santas on the switch board. Yes, this is my kind of Christmas!
Till last week, i didn't possess a single Christmas number which is a shame really! But thanks to a kind friend, i now listen from morning till i decide to retire at night under my lovely pink satin duvet that my Dad gave me the last time i went home for Christmas, ages ago!And O music...i particularly enjoy Celine Dion's Les Cloches Du Hameau, though i hardly understand anything...sounds a bit weird innit?

The best bit about this Christmas is the fact that it's a celebration of LOVE, one that reminds me of how much i am loved specially when i tend to feel so blue and uncared for ; so unloved. It's this Love that is breaking the walls i have built so high up, so thick and so strong, it's this Love that is binding up my heart which has broken and replacing my shattered dreams and wounded soul with a perfectly new one.
It's a great JOY that i could be where i am now, surrounded by friends and cousins, enjoying this lovely season. And yet, i really wish Joshua and Krosa were here with me with their irrepressible zeal for life and in moments like this i long for those endless chats and giggles with Mum and Dad over a strong cup of tea with 'meilum' to create the ambiance.

And how could i not remember all the mince pies, Christmas puddings, Lizzie's mulled wine and crackers that will go unclaimed this year, for The Limes is thousands of miles away.
Nevertheless, i am doing alright, fit and fine, so this is Christmas, i am in Delhi yet again, it's been great
and i reckon it'll continue to be a good one.

Merry Christmas!!

You Put This Love in My Heart - Keith Green

I found it hard to believe someone like you cared for me,
You put this love in my heart.

I tried but could not refuse, you gave me no time to lose,
You put this love in my heart.

I want to know where the bad feelings go,
When I'm depressed and I get down so low,
And then I see you coming to me and it's alright.

I want to tell you right now, I'm not afraid to say how,
You put this love in my heart.

There are sometimes when I doubt, but you always find me out
You put this love in my heart.

Cause when I see all that you've done for me,
It's hard to doubt, I just have to believe,
Cause you followed and proved it all of your life.
Well I know the loneliness I had before,
Is gone now, I'll never feel it anymore,
Cause your love has released me from all that's in my past,
And I know I can believe you,
When you say I'll never be forsaken, Your love is gonna last.
There's so much more I should say, if I could just find a way,
You put this love in my heart,
Is this real or a dream, I feel so good I could scream,
You put this love in my heart.

I want to know where the bad feelings go,
When I'm depressed and I get down so low,
And then I see you coming to me and it's alright,
You put this love in my heart,
You put this love in my heart,
You put this love in my heart.

They have made a lovely Crystal Box,
wherein the pure and the good should fit in.
Glistening under the rising sun,
a glorious sight for all the world to see.

It truly is a showpiece this lovely Crystal Box,
I dare not touch though a serpent tempts me too,
lest i repeat the Eve episode
and be thrown out of this Garden, once and for all.

But,
I'm too young, I am too old.
Skirt is feminine, trousers are not for ladies,
I talk too much, I think too much.
I do not know how to smile
at the right time, at the right people.
Too opinionated, too argumentative,
too independent, too capable!
Too many interests, too little time,
and with all the endless strings attached to my back.

I wonder when They will make a Lovely Crystal Box,
That will shine in the dark as well as in the morning sun.
When i went to the Maker with my ideas...

I am told that
I have to make my own.

( *For those who walked up and down Upper Dingy, filled with Irrepressible Hope)

?

For the hundredth time,
I am considering a Goodbye;
I've given you an intro,
the beginning to an ending chapter.
I've given myself a fright,
i wonder what you'd think of it.
Am i convincing enough?
Do you really believe?
Will you consider my appeal?


The main course will come,
A surprise it's suppose to be!
What shall i do?
What will you say when it's laid open to you?
Will you ask me to stay behind?
Will you let me fly away?
Does it matter to you at all,
if i go or stay?


Do you want it wrapped or fully opened,
or just in part?
How would you like it best my Dear?
...thrown at your feet or over the phone,
even maybe over a cup of coffee...
well, the aroma may be so soothing.

Many summers, winters,

autumns...
Does it make any difference at all?
Am i still thousands of miles away
or just an inch behind your legs?
Does it really matter?
...whether you love or care
Your heart has always been lying
somewhere between me and you.

(*For my dear AM, who is neither here nor there!)