They Are. But who are they? (Part 1)

I see her almost every morning. 

Our paths crossing at the exact spot they did yesterday and all the days gone by. Nonchalant in her posture, breezy in her gestures, intense as she turns her head slightly to give but a glimpse of her semi-chiseled features.

Were we to come face to face I wouldn't recognize her. Were she to walk away from me, perhaps, I would. She always has her back towards me as I pass by. 

Sometimes, as she looks up to talk to a passerby she offers a half smile . At least all I can see is just half of it. I wonder if she'd look at me if I were to walk by? Would I stop long enough for her to glance at me? 

Something compels me to look her way every single time. The rare mornings that she isn't in sight, that something compels me to look back again and again. Hoping she might have appeared by then. She never does.

Why doesn't that Something compel me to stop going on my way and go seek her out? I wouldn't know where to seek!

She sits there on the footpath. Her back turned to the busy road that dips down the bridge to the signal. She sits facing the wall, more interested in the clicking heels than the blaring horns behind her. 

She never appears to seek alms. Then what is that she does there every morning? What does she say to the one's she turns her face to as they pass by and stop for a moment before her? Would she talk if it were me listening?   

Perhaps someday she might get off the footpath or I get on it. We might talk.  

Till then... I see her almost every morning wearing her trademark off-shoulder blouses. She doesn't need the left sleeve for protecting her arm. The protruding bone got covered with skin a long time back. 

Someday, perhaps, I shall stop and walk up to her and ask her. 

Until then... I hope to see her again in the morning. Sitting there with her back to me. And envy her a little now and then. 

You see, for all the  missing arms, off-shoulder blouses, alms-not-sought, sitting on footpaths, She never has a bad-hair day. 

just remembered...

14th of august this year...

I-Day celebrations in office, a day ahead of schedule as the next day was a holiday...

Vande Mataram being sung...

the loudest voices heard were the usual ones...

the rest... lip-sync-ing...

not for long...

as the song tapered the silent voices rose..

15th of august this year...

yet another round of Dark Knight...IMAX...

Vande Mataram...

Ages since i've heard it being played in theatres...

Who were those few who did not stand up?

Who were those so many others who sang out loud and clear, right from the first note to the final?

And who were those who were too embarrased to stay sitting...but were bold enough to join in the tapering song..........?

Words can....

Scatter,
Shatter,
and what not...

Just as I was re-discovering the charm of a carefully planned swagger came a thoughtful word.
Never saw it coming,I swear, not even through the very corner-est of my eye. Though you might say, rightly, that I "asked for it". Oh yes, I did.

But all I'd asked was a simple, innocent, non-fishin-for-compliments kind of, curiosity laden query (query sounds so much more professional than question. of course question has more Indy Jones swing to it..."quest i am on"...)

Or was it a question cloaked as a query? The response did come swinging in, fast and silent. The answer a word which gently nudges the swagger; just that little bit to leave one tottering on the brink of nothing!!

So, does a simple, innocent, non-fishin-for-compliments kind of, curiosity laden question deserve a response of such magnitude? One totally unexpected and absolutely necessary? No and Yes; No because of the later and Yes for the former.

After all all quests need their snake-pits and Arcs and Blood, sweat and tears (sob)..their unexpected events. Quests are not necessary, they are just an Inevitable Happening. And what better potion to have in your rucksack than a Word. One with power enough to sweet-talk snakes in pits or outside, fetch Arcs, make us bleed and sweat and cut through swaggers to leave even Indy in tears....soul-wrenching stuff.

As for me...well...plannin nother swagger for the morrow.
And WORD, the next time it's going to take you more than a nudge............

The Shadow of the Wind

This is the book by Carlos Ruiz Zafon. Exotic name. Didn't realise it till I typed it out just now.
There it was, just one of the books lying, rather standing upright, on a bookshelf at some bookmall (how impersonal! stuff for another post). Wonder what made me reach out to this particular thin something when there were so many brighter, flashier, jucier ones around? Could hardly see the cover! The spine didn't tell much, though so important in a book and a man.
Was it the word Shadow? Perhaps it was, as round about that time I had curiously developed this attraction to the word. Language, font, audio, video, synonyms no bar. Something mystical about it. Haa khel saavalyancha played so often on the pod.
More than all of this was the underlying truth of INSTINCT. That is what had made me reach out to this book. That is what had made me pick the others. Yes, there have been more that have come into my life in this manner. Bringing with them a person who had gathered all those familiar words, put them together; all held as one creation by that very spine which introduced itself to me.
Touchwood. All these experiences have been and still are enthralling. Chance and instinct bringing the to-be-favourite writer into my hands!
Strange then, or maybe not, that this book should be about a book-guardian who chooses the book he is to guard in the same manner. By Instinct.

Midnight musings 001 (yup..there are going to be plenty of these if i continue posting)

Why oh why is it that i find penning down words, on randomly flipped pages, easier than posting a blog? Sheer laziness? Or is it that though there is a lot to talk about the moot Q still does remain: does the world need to know?
Perhaps i still subconsciously equate a post to scribblings in a diary??!! hence would rather not post at all? Simply another veil to keep the world from knowing???!!!
Oh, are we here talking about the answer to the question that the world would be better off not knowing, or for that matter, knowing? Protectors, Saviours, Termintors, is that how we fancy ourselves? We do, as all of those from time to time. If not of The World then at least of Our Own Worlds....(rest of this some other day)

once more...here i go...

An attempt, once again, at blogging. Wonder how many times a blog was created just to be lost or simply misplaced.
As i type this, am reminded of why my first ever blog, attempted-blog, was even posted in the first place. An online friend, sadly misinterpreted me and wished to read my blog. So a tentative attempt was made. With decent results, mind you.