Unclip the wings, dreams and undampened spirits


to conquer dreams and soar in the sky,

never asked for extravagant,

humble dreams and aspirations,

to make it big,

years have passed,

battered I may have been,

weakened and bruised,

the desire to win may have calmed down,

knocked I am,

slowly getting up on the heel,

ready to run,

dare you,

come and beat my spirit,

undampened enthusiasm,

the heart is young,

raring to fall in love again,

no age to fuck up,

unclip the wings,

soar in the sky,

dream catcher,

holding the stars in the hand,

the destination is waiting for me,

i still dream,

make paper boats to carry me in the storm,

keep dreaming,

stay inspired forever,

falling in love,

tripping,

chasing the aimless.

PS: Dhadak Dhadak is one of my favorite songs in the college days and it inspired this poem taking me back to those days. It still inspires me to chase dreams.

With love

V

 

Left, Right…Romance Chowk: Chapter 3


Chapter 3: Stony trip, flying balloons and the invisible woman

Sejal almost panted and exuded a sense of relief when she successfully thwarted Mann’s questions on her estranged Dad. She was reluctant to confess how she abhorred her Dad who left her mother in the lurch and took a mistress who was half his age. She was a new-born baby who made the cradle her universe.

It was sheer luck that Mann didn’t prod her on the family, mother and her half-brother after whom she secretly lusted. She wanted to seek revenge on her father by playing hide-and-seek and tried to seduce her half-blood brother by using her body as a bait to get even. The last time she wore a short skirt and dropped something on the floor to reveal her legs in a move to glaringly distract his attention by moving her tits and boobs. It pissed her when the half-brother from another mother didn’t react to her sensual gaze. The last thing that Sejal wanted was to have a face-off between Mann and her estranged half-brother. Revenge has always been playing on her mind but not in a tragic fashion to breed jealousy or conflict between this brother and Mann. It was the last thing that she wanted or else, her carefully laid plans would have gone for a toss.

It rained heavily that night. She slouched on the bed and emptied the tobacco to fill it with ganja leaves. Sejal expertly rolled the ganja leaves inside after rummaging to remove the dirt where everything was spread on the morning Bombay Times supplement. She took a drag deep down, wafting through her nostril and the sensation running high inside her body. The water rattled on the window bar and she enjoyed listening to the plopping sound outside. It gave her a high. She took another drag and glugged the Old Monk Rum mixed with Cola. The rum taste swirled around her tongue which was her favorite exercise as she thrust her long leg on the wooden bed handle. She sat in her short and caressed her leg. It gave her a high. There was something that occupied her mind and took another drag wondering how to solve the puzzle. Stoned to death, she burbled endlessly to herself and fidgeted with her phone when a WhatsApp message flashed. It was Mann.

“Fuck,” she moaned. It completely slipped her mind that they were supposed to hang out together in his suburban apartment. He was irritated and pissed off. The phone buzzed but she cut it off several times. Sejal wanted to fling it outside the window when her fingers accidentally stumbled to pick up the phone.

“Hella,” her voice slurred. Mann first thought that he must have dialed a random number who substituted hella for hello. “Mannnn,” Sejal broke into a cackle. “Sorry,” she coaxed him. “I forgot my munchkin.” He was bewildered but got it that she was high under ganja. He gently said, “You having the shit without me baby.” Sejal felt that she was traveling in the air and spoke in lyrical tone, “You know! I am seeing condoms in the air and spurting in the rain like blown balloons. I am whispering in its ear…you know condom can listen and that’s how we fuck,” she palavered. “Baby blow inside the condom to release air and send me a love chit. Tab, you shout Kabutar jaa jaa and it will fly in the rain to pop in front of my window.” Sejal havered and rollicked in laughter.

Sejal weltered towards the hall and wadded to open the door, grabbing the house key from the table, almost tripping on her way out. The door was closed behind her. She oscillated from right to left, doing a zigzag of sort as she rifled her steps inside the elevator.

**********************************************************************************************************

An unknown number flashed on Mann’s cell phone and was wondering who was calling at this odd hour. He reluctantly picked up the phone when a worried female voice gently spoke, “Hello beta! I am Anita here, Sejal’s mum. When was the last time you spoke to her? Is she with you? I have tried her phone for the last 24 hours and she is not picking up. I am really worried. Please tell.”

It was raining heavily outside. The roads were dark and deserted. Mann braved the rain and after much convincing, he hailed the taxi after agreeing to pay the cabbie double fare. The car headed towards Sejal’s apartment. He tried calling but looks like the network was jammed. He sensed trouble.

Love

V

 

Fiction: Footprint of love


A fiction tale that I am doing after a very long time. A love story that I have tried to write in a different way set against the backdrop of Monsoon, and something that I have perhaps never tried before. Hope the readers will like it and looking for honest feedback.

Footprint of love

The water see-sawed from gentle to violent and roiled into a storm to reach a crescendo high and the windy breeze blustered its way past the Arabian Sea. The Monsoon has reached the shores in the evening and it became dark everywhere.  A feeble blip could be spotted on the buildings that sprawled in the city.

The Jamun and peepal trees warped in a half circle and the leaves splayed like glue on the wet pavement. Black umbrellas were pushed by the thunderous force and human bodies jolted and wavered to balance their steps.  She was caught in a storm and the body lay erect and stiff like a statue on the cement concrete and unfazed by the maelstrom of fury. No power on earth that could make her bulge away from this position. Everyone skittered to safety. The water splashed on her face. The sticky white dupatta and Salwar were drenched and the Kohlapuri chappal sat like a glove on her soft and flawless feet. She longed for his sight.

After all, they met for the first time, held hands and kissed voraciously on the parapet at Marine Drive before he left her to defend the nation on the border. He had to go. She couldn’t stop him. Tears were filled to the brim. Her soul has already died but the lifeless body was adorned like a bride wearing shiny attire and a bindi applied on her forehead as she sat on the parapet to wait for her prince every night. There was nothing on earth that could make her see reason.

The slim boy empathized with the Didi who bought a single rose and bunch of flowers from him every evening and his eyes became moist looking at her state. She tied the flowers on the bun and imagining that it’s the hand of his prince adorning her hair.

The last time he walked with poise in his army uniform towards her and warbled into her ear on a Monsoon evening. She loved how he bent on his feet and kissed her hand like a gentleman of royal lineage. He held her hand slowly and took off her chappal, as they trudged the rocks to sit atop watching the water flowing down. She bit him on his ear and not giving damn to the world.  It was just him, her and their universe. Thrusting her legs to stroke his ear and jumping within inches of his waist, he held her as she smacked his lip and swayed to the tune of intimacy, the love bites flew deep inside her soul. He untied the lace of her blouse and kissed her, running his finger deep inside her body. It started raining suddenly. They traipsed their way downstairs and walked on the soggy path together, clutched to each other by the waist and unmoved by the roving eyes.

It was the dreaded phone call that wrecked their world. Emergency was declared. He had no choice. After all, he had to urgently report to his post in Ladakh. She became furious like the stormy sea water.  She roared like a tigress, scratched his face before pushing him away. “Go! I don’t want to see your face,” she sniveled. He held her tight and pushed his tongue inside her mouth.

It’s been a year. The war has stopped. No one heard about Major Vikrant. He never sent a letter home. He pretended that she never existed. Perhaps, he found someone in Ladakh. Mitali was blinded by his love. She made the trip every night and waited for his footsteps in vain. But, the human instinct could never fail her. She knew that. The voice of reason of her loved and closed ones bore no impact on the soul that was drowned in his love. The tears have stopped. She has ceased to be human but a lifeless robot, anticipating that one day Major will wait for his Mitali at the parapet and pick her in his arm. After all, their love can never die. The mountains and the sea listened to her shriek at night. The dead soul was hanging by a thread and a faint hope like the dim light in the city was the only reason that kept her alive.  The chubby girl slowly lost her spark and the dark spot on the face echoed the bruise of a heart shred into pieces.

Thunder roared. Lightning struck. The grey sky and cloud slowly turned black. The rain slathered every space in the city. There was not one soul or animal wading on the parapet that wore a desert look.

The violent wind shook her off and ruffled the crumpled hair like a rush of divinity lashing on her.  It jolted the half dead soul that suddenly stirred to life after days, nights and months that felt like a life time. She slowly upped her face to stare blankly at a car. The door slid open. A powerful but unknown force dragged her inert body to life and Mitali wheezed towards a wheel chair rolling its way on the parapet. She stopped the wheel chair with all her force.  She felt dizzy but hanged to the human flesh that sat like a corpse. His eyes lid moved slowly and a feeble smile surfaced. It was him. Major Vikrant twitched fingers touched her skin. Stream of tears ran down on her face. He was inert like a stone but the facial nerves were moving. The love of her life was convinced that he will find his Mitali in the nest where the love once bloomed. It was written in the stars. Together, they will conquer love and brave the storm. It was a matter of time. They never lost faith. It started raining again and water sprinkled on them as she tightly held to his hand.

Love

V

WoW: When love lost….It was my last day in the city


This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.’

When love lost….It was my last day in the city

It was my last day in the city. My city. It was a Sunday. It is a Sunday. The wind blew from the Arabian Sea in the evening. I scampered on the busy road to meet her. Love didn’t triumph on that day. It failed me. The place would take off at midnight. The heart was heavy. My soul and heart shred into million pieces. I was dying at every second. It seemed that the dock of life has stopped. I cursed. I ran. A seesaw of emotions choked me inside to reach every breath taken. What’s the point, I wondered. Our fate has been sealed. Stupid love. Stupid religion. I choose to run away from the city that I have stayed long enough to call my own.

blogadda.com

If only I could stop the trail of time by conjured magic. It wasn’t meant to be. A matter of hours when we would go our separate ways and will probably never see each other. We met and fell in love in the city. The breeze, monuments, and stars in the sky witnessed the pure love that grew on us. The city embraced us in its cradle. Her name is S. The city that I loved so much suddenly suffocated me. The susurration of a broken heart. I was dying at every second. Love is second to none, they say. How can it happen to me? I didn’t have any choice but to leave everything and go back.

Woe betides me. We wanted to make the most of it by spending the last day together in the city. It mattered to us. I woke up early on that fateful day and stormed my way to Barista at CST, ordering Latte for the love to flicker like sugar steered and disappearing in the coffee. The love didn’t filter inside. My life fell apart. Time was moving fast. I didn’t want to leave the city. What I would do without the city, the selfless embrace that it gives and holding me in its womb, the monsoon, and the blustering echo or scything to explore every single path and wide roads.

The heart break is no fiction. I lost on love. I was the vanquished. A dejection that pushed me to the brink to abandon everything. I had to get away from love, longing, monsoon and the city. I was calling her Jaan. I was counting the minutes between shuttling to the room, shopping and locking the baggage. We met after six pm. The same place that we first met and fell in love. It was the iconic library where we studied together, laughed, fought and held hands. The pain bellowed. We sat on the same white bench. She promised that we will meet some day. I didn’t nurture hope. It’s better that we don’t speak or reason on what could have been. There was no point. No words expressed on our break up. We walked together to Fab India for she had to exchange the gift I gave her. The Kurti didn’t fit her. We spotted a celebrity. She gave me gifts that I have preserved till now, the CD and card where her words flew like lyrics that couldn’t quench the thirst of love. The first time that I lost. We hugged and traveled for the last time in the local train, sashaying our way on the crowded platform at CST.

Not all love stories have a happy ending. Pain can be empowering and define one’s journey. The time for take off approached. I fastened the seat belt. I stared at the sky and stars to make a wish for them to fulfill. It was her. The plane rifled in the sky and in the fleeting minutes, the city disappeared from my gaze like a dream that flitted away in an invisible manner to never become true again. I visited the city after ages and every step taken reminded me of her smile and gaze. It was closure. I shall be back with a vengeance to carve new memories and live every second one day. Love for humans is an illusory attachment. The love for the city remains eternal. Someday, we shall unite for time has stitched the heart that lost on doomsday. A story of love nurtured and took shape in the city. There is a purpose and meaning behind everything. It wasn’t meant to be. The city is capacious like a home for every lovable and lost soul warbling the song of love and pain.

PS: As I was writing this post, I received a terrible news on the sudden passing away of a super talented, fashion and travel blogger, Pari Knitha Urs who was a Facebook friend that I never met but who was always encouraging, kind and never shied to help. May God bless her soul. She was blogging on The Wanderer’s Diary.

Love

V

Left Right Romance Chowk: Chapter 2


Left Right Romance Chowk

Chapter 2: Naughty sprinkle of love, sweetness and pepper

The shiny red double-decker bus ambled slowly in the center of South Mumbai, looking like a lost child competing with the mighty and iconic, black-and-yellow cabs, powerful cars and commoners scrumming their way to jostle for space. The commoner bikers were in a frantic hurry as they screeched their way between buses and cars, right in front of St Xavier’s college where young boys and girls, dressed in modern and branded outfits stood outside the gate chatting, puffing a smoke and indulging in public display OF affection, caressing hair, holding their special someone by the waist and lips pecking to the tune of bees and flowers.

The Best bus swiveled at the traffic signal and halted right in front of Mumbai’s hip-and-happening and most glamorous college in the city. Sejal hopped down and carefully held her dupatta to prevent it from flowing into the pool of water. She sashayed past the college gate to disappear in the flitting seconds.

As she waded her way inside the sprawling campus, the boys upped their eyes to survey every single move that she made and shamelessly peered at her curvy body, perfectly sculpted round boob and bum. She feigned ignorance but was flattered at the same time. Some dudes whispered, “She’s the machine of hotness that whirs above our head and stops our hearts from doing dhak dhak. I’d prefer this machine to the coffee dispenser.”

She was unfazed by the eyes longing for a ‘hi’ and returned their smile with a large wry expression on her face. “Despo! They badly need a masturbation,” she told her herself. Sejal made furtive glances and finally zeroed on what she was looking for.  The flawless hand was raised in fury as if she was going to sling at something. A strong jab was felt. A resounding bang and thud! She couldn’t conceal her smile.

He leaped to his feet and bellowed, turning his face towards the person who was standing right in front of him. “Kya re, hero,” she chuffed.

Mann was still moaning in pain and almost cursed her. She tittered, “Madarchod bolne ka mann ho raha hai (You feel like saying maderchod). Fulfill your vow, Mr Ashiq.”

“No, yaar. It’s your new way of greeting kya,” Mann hollered.

She hugged him tight and whispered, “Sorry.” He smiled. “I am not apologizing for now but the last time when you were told to fuck off from my house,” she placated him.

“The ganja was making me spin in the air and at the same moment, Mom had to shoot this message that she was landing in front of my door in five fucking minutes. Did I have a choice, baby?” She made dewy eyes expression. It melted his heart.

“You should never do that. You are a kid and just 18. I am elder than you,” he purred.

“Stop giving me this lovey-dovey expression and it’s making you sound feminine. Yes! You are elder to me by two months. A half baby cannot take form in the embryo in such a short time span…,” she casually remarked.

“At least you will not throw me out of your house. See! I can claim my age over you so that you fulfill all my wishes and desires,” he persisted.

“In that way, some 5 cm penis may just claim sheer horsepower to ride me but it doesn’t come with warranty or else viagra will go out of the market.” A triumphant and tart expression popped on her face. Mann went into a silent mode, not knowing what to make of it.

“I bet you will not have sex for a long time now. See how my words can hit the cock with force. At your own risk,” she chuckled gleefully. They walk together towards the class but made a u-turn. Their eyes nodded in agreement and scampered their way out of the campus.

The tea was boiling and steam curled from the huge tea pan and the plump man with his protruded belly expertly steered sugar, milk, water, and cardamom to heavenly bliss.  The steam blew on the face of the man who wiped the sweat with his hand while the horde of men and women made a beeline with impatience for the morning tea.

Sejal grabbed a cup poured in the glass that touched the cusp of her lip. She loved the sensation when the steamy hot cup strokes her lip. She glugged her tea and order Mann in a sudden fit, “Now! Jaldi! Let’s run away from here. Just leave the glass. It’s not like it’s your last chai on the death bed.” She grabbed his hand and yanked the door of the taxi open, telling the driver, “Churchgate station, chalo.”

As the car steered to life, a tall and fair man in his 30s was staring at Sejal which didn’t escape Mann’s glare. She realized that he got wind of things. “You see, this guy is my ex-boyfriend and I saw him from a distance. This idiot couldn’t digest that I broke up with and been after me. Issliye! We are fleeing to a safe destination,” she said.

“Is he a stalker?” Mann’s face turned red.

“No! Man! He was looking for something more…some kind of commitment and marriage. Ek toh, I am ten years younger to him and it was just plain sex…I thought ki rumpy aur pumpy and we will bang and bingo…but no. Now, he’s after me.”

A tremor like sensation jolted Mann’s body and he tried to put a fake smile on his face. “Jealous,” she quipped. “Arre chill! See how scared you are?” Sejal cackled.

“Arre! Pyare! I cannot have sex with my sperm related sibling. He is my half blood brother that sprouted from Dad’s second marriage. I ran away from him because this old fox would dole out gyan lesson to me afterward.”

He exuded relief. “Who old fox?” he queried. “This brother of yours?”

“Nah! My Dad. His morale is like an ejaculation that fizzles before shaking the bottle…a bit like thumps up but doesn’t make any sense at all.”

Love

V

Tale in the sky and cloud


Glistening sky and cloud

Dribble of rain,

cool waves seeping in

Silent night,

streaming tears of happiness

sparkle of peace,

soothing energy,

sitting in the dark,

letting tenderness and gentleness flow in

harking to childhood days of love,

gentleness of our elders,

unspoken lesson of kindness and wisdom

Halcyon epoch,

trekking the mountains,

soiling the trousers and dancing in the mud

a long and forgotten era

where race, caste or class belonging didn’t matter

reclaim this innocence

let the air flow in to capture our undying spirit

time for the child to reclaim us

Time vanish like thin air

make every moment worth it

be glorious

may love always win

Love

V

Left Right Romance Chowk: Chapter 1


Hey, people! I am writing a brand new rom-com and campus romance novella on the blog, ‘Left Right Romance Chowk.’ It’s the first chapter, ‘Blueberry kiss.’ Hope you will like this fresh romance outing that I am doing after a long time.

Chapter 1: Blueberry kiss

The knotted silky long hair and black curly tresses decked on Sejal’s hair like the Pharaoh perched on its crown. The brightly painted yellow room shimmered in the sunny afternoon as sunlight percolated inside the room. The curtain was pulled out and the sea breeze blew inside. She wore a plain white tee and a black short.

The soft music, Kabhie Kabhie mere dil mein khayal aata hai aired on Radio Mirchi felt like the fresh dew inside the modest apartment standing tall in the outskirt of Mumbai and four legs separated by a thin distance. He wore a pink short. Their legs touched each other as they sat on the bed. He was wearing Sejal’s short. The smoke billowed inside the room that metamorphosed with the sunlight flowing inside. The joint was passed between both hands. Her voice chirped to the sound of a bird cooing insanely in his ear. He was already high on ganja. She was zonked.

A bottle of wine, lays chips and birthday cake was splattered on the wooden table. Her voice blurred in his ear, “Your name is too long…I am calling you Mann. Fuck this Manendra. It sounds like an orgy gone wrong.” There were no reasons to celebrate. Just like that toh party karo nahin toh bhalu ayenge humein lene was Sejal’s swan song. It rang an echo in Mann’s ear as if it has become their love anthem.

She slowly perched her body backward, oscillating from a sitting position to spread herself on the bed in a playful mood.  The peachy eyes started intensely at his green Tantra Tee shirt with the tagline, ‘Tell your boob to stop staring at my eyes.’ “You lecherous man,” she snickered. “It’s the fault of your eyes. Kya karna ka irada hai? Don’t think too much or have high expectations. I ain’t letting your quivering lip touch me. I’m no chocolate.”

He slowly pushed his body on the bed to rest on his side and grabbed the palm of her hand. The lovelorn man twisted her hair lock with his fingers. “You are a mystic princess,” he whispered. He was trying to find his balance on the small bed and awkwardly moved his body. “How are you feeling inside? Hope it’s not hurting your asset,” she winked.  It was their dare day. Sejal called the shots and challenged him to wear her clothes, pink short and underwear. They exchanged each other’s clothes, were stoned and drank wine to heavenly bliss.

“Nah!” he made a face like a sad pup eyed dog and she mocked him playfully with doe-eyed expression, “Cho chweet…my little puppy…mera bacha handsome ladka aur mein ladki beautiful.”

Mann lashed his tongue out and gravitated his head towards the rotating ceiling fan. She slapped him on the hand, “Pass me the joint na and stop behaving like a guzra zamana ka dejected Aashiq. I am no Meena Kumari, mere Dilip Kumar.”

She took a deep drag and passed to him. Their vision became blurred. “Oh! This shaadi,” he blurted out. Sejal slowly moved away from her position to sit on the bed. “Dude! Why the fuck you get such crazy ideas about shaadi? We are only 18 something. What makes you think that I am going to elope with you? I love thrills but not itna. I don’t have any intention to make history in 2017 and for fuck sake, Laila Majnu or Romeo and Juliet were chutiya.”

“This shit is so fucking good! Waise bhi who is speaking about Shaadi,” he pretended to be under some magic spell. She pulled his hair, “Dude it’s you. Where are you?”

“In your arms,” he pretended to be a coy bride and rested his head on her lap. Sejal grinned, “Yes! Of course. I thought you were selling pani puri outside Salman Khan home in Bandstand.” He laughed loud.

Beaming like a child, Mann longed for a kiss. “Please yaa! Just once,” he pleaded. She shrugged off his demand, “I told you that I am no candy or chocolate and you are no kiddo. It’s my lip. Nah! It doesn’t like your taste today. As it is, your body perfume feels like raita.

He almost belched out what the fuck…when she clung to him and pressed his mouth. Mann was too stunned to react. “Chalo! It’s been bery long time for a blueberry kiss,” she cupped her lip to his face. They kissed again and their lips were pressed together like glue, exploring every line, inch, and angle.  She brutally pulled away from him.

It hit him like an electric jolt. Mann stammered , “Excuse me!” She was unfazed, “You haven’t heard or what! Get out of my house.” He protested. She dragged him out, “Buzz out man.”

 

Love

V