Showing posts from August, 2020

The Creaking Chair - Part XXIII

  04 th  April 1991 There was a time in my early thirties when I was a rolling stone stumbling from one gig to another  like I had only a day to live and I had to achieve all that I could in that day  and yet I had not reached a stage where I was mastering all that I was doing or anyway close to it for that matter It was a race in my head that I was running more than anything else That was the time when I was writing a lot so many authors had said that write as much as you can when you are young, you would thank yourself later  so I was following the route of quantity  I set targets for myself and in that rut my focus wavered from the depth of what was penned down I should have spent more time to let the poetry settle in my head before it even had the far-fetched chance to settle on a piece of paper  so most of the work from that time was uncooked;  but at least there was quantity for me to prune later I was also dabbling with my musical instincts  restarted teaching myself guitar over

The manual of love

  She used to chide me often...I need to tell her how much I love her gifts..give her hugs...steal kisses when she least expected...where would u find a girl who comes with a manual on how to be a perfect and caring lover...her friends used to tell me..I'm lucky.. And stupid me..I often told her to be real...just like my love was...expressions I said need not be words..kisses need not always be stolen...smiles need not always be shared...for love does not come with a comes with a set of wild hearts...bent on taming the other...and its not the ones who win this battle who flourish in love...but its those who learn to loose these battles who live happily ever after... I still remember our fights...they were somehow different than the fights I had 6 months ago...did we change so much in 6 months...or did our love somberly hijacked logic in our brains...the debate was not if I should tell her how much I love her...the debate was whether it was good to

The Creaking Chair - Part XXII

22 nd  September 1992 Pratishtha visited us today after so many years Kamal had no idea she was coming  It seems it was Veena who had received her call last week and had decided to keep it a surprise for Kamal ;  My son was, let’s say more than surprised to see Pratistha sitting in the living room as he came back from his evening bicycle ride  boy, he was flustered First he looked at me, with the same innocent face  like the one he made some 17-18 years back when I first got to know about Pratistha and him I was more angry at him for not telling me that something was going on rather than the fact that he was dating someone I had always been cool about it, and I always thought if he ever gets serious he would tell me  but then he went and told his mom and she unwittingly told me  I was angry at that betrayal than anything else But how flustered was Kamal today it was nostalgic to see him behave like a young college kid who comes back from the playground and sees that his crush is sittin

The Creaking Chair - Part XXI

  27th October  1992 Sahil has been very quiet for the last few days  generally he used to come back from school and be all chirpy he used to keep pestering me to listen to what happened  what was the latest trend in the playground  which technology were the kids of the new generation drooling over  and of course which girl is he starting to have a crush on I am like the cool grandpa  something which Kamal is often jealous off but he has to raise his game if you wants to compete with me Just because he is my son does not mean I let him win easily  especially when it’s about being the BFF of my grand child   Sahil told me what BFF means Last month he also asked me to come along with him  to this gig thing that they do  it is just like the jamming session that I used to do when I was young but they do a lot of things there from singing and music to debates and someone also showcases his paintings on and off reminded me of ‘Dead Poet’s society’ and I think he was just over enthusiastic to

The Creaking Chair - Part XX

  21st February  1986 I have hit a ‘Writer’s block’ I have absolutely no doubt about it  it’s been 6 days and I am stuck with the same 3 lines  no new rhythm in my thoughts and no cadence in my words It’s like being stuck in a passage where you don’t know which side to go I am not sure if I have to let go of this thought  and move on to writing something new or should I persevere with this and be patient   22 nd  February 1986 I went to a coffee shop today thinking maybe that would help  looking at strangers sitting and sipping their Mocha and Cappuccinos  engaging and thoughtless conversation with a random stranger  would help I thought to stimulate my grey matter  as if they would involuntarily push me forward in my endeavor  to pen down the next 3 lines  and then maybe I can come back here again and wait for another stranger  willing enough to come & sit by on the empty chair in front of me and I would write another 3 lines that night     23 rd  February 1986 I have bolted mysel

The Creaking Chair - Part XIX

4th April  1998 I have a very strong will power over years, I have been able to resist a lot of my urges  those which would have caused me much trouble  and even those which were more innocent  But being able to control my desires so that they don’t consume me  has always been something I have prided myself on And well of course, this is painting a broad stroke  the picture has a lot of finer details  times when I have completely given into my urges  even those which have definitely put me into a lot of trouble  and also joyful stories if I look back at them now  I am no saint, right? Remember the five night brawl in the winters of my 33 rd  birthday? But then there is one pleasure which I could never give up on the absolute joy of eating sweets – and I know some of you would never get what I mean you need to truly admire the release of happy hormones in you  when you put that morsel of ultimate bliss in your mouth I had a record in the house where I had eaten a kilogram of  rasgulla