A Sleight Of Hand

He slid his hand over the nape of his neck and jerked his head sideways. It did not help. He still felt the discomfort. Last night’s violent head banging at the rock concert ended with the ‘stiffneck syndrome’. Ahmed walked down the stairs in a hurry; he had to be at the workplace by nine thirty, it was already nine. Suddenly he slackened his pace and hit his head; he remembered that his bike had to be repaired.

Inside the bus, after much ordeal Ahmed found place for his two feet. At this instant he came face to face with a man of particularly large features. His two eyes nearly seemed to gobble him up. The man somehow couldn’t contain his curiosity and lounged his hand forward and turned the ID card around Ahmed’s collar. Having read it, he let out a sigh and lifted his eyes from the card to Ahmed’s, now filled with a certain severity. The man in reply gave a sheepish smile. The annoyed owner placed the card back into the pocket. The conductor now came this way and in his usual brusque style said,
” Aah, ticket”. Ahmed dug his hands into his pocket, hanging onto the rod with another. He handed the conductor a 100-rupee note. The conductor frowned,” chutta dena, arey change.. change dena”. The man however never once took his eyes off Ahmed, who brought out his swollen wallet and opened it. Stacked inside were fresh 500 rupee notes. The one of lowest denomination was the one he offered the conductor. After the transaction was done and he pocketed his 5-rupee ticket with the due written on it, he looked up, sensing a stare. The other man raised his eyebrows and gave a sinister smile. Ahmed quickly changed his wallet from right to the left pocket.
A nasty drop trickled down his temples and Ahmed could feel the dampness under his ears. He once nearly lifted his hand to push away his long locks of hair falling onto forehead and refrained, the man kept looking and it filled him with certain wariness. “Hmm so you are Dhoni’s fan “, the man pronounced, startling Ahmed who only smiled.
“I can tell that from your hair”, he continued. Not wanting to converse Ahmed turned his eyes away. ”It is looking good anyway “, the man quipped, hoping a response. This brought a smile onto the face of our young traveler.
Standing a little in front of them was another guy, who couldn’t help smiling too. He did not sport long hair nor did he seem the kind but there was a certain endearing gentleness to him and Ahmed did not mind a conversation. “Swayam”, he said making the first move. “ Ahmed”.
“Heading where?”
“Cyber towers, I suppose you’re going there too.” Ahmed replied looking at Swayam’s ID.
He flashed a smile revealing a charming dimple on his left cheek. The other man meanwhile grew restless and kept jostling the guy beside him. “Have been to yesterday’s show?” Swayam asked.
“Man, Sledge rocked” Ahmed exclaimed and this reminded him of his neck. Instantly he put his hand to his neck, when he felt a movement behind him and spun around to see that the man was fidgeting, trying to get hold of a seat just vacated. Ahmed breathed free as there was more room to stand now. A little later the man got down, with an utterly bored expression.
The imposing structure of Cyber Towers came into view and Ahmed realised he had to ask for his due.He signaled to the conductor , who came around and with a twitch of the eyebrow and an open palm asked him for the ticket. Ahmed casually put his hand into his back pocket, his jaw dropped and he looked at the conductor in askance and disbelief. His wallet was gone!
" I knew he would do it! I should have taken care" ..Ahmed rued. Swayam looked on sympathetically. The conductor threw a ' who asked you to carry so much, now pay for it' look and left.
Swayam got down too, feeling rather unsure about the morning, and took out the wallet from his pocket. He opened it and found inside a perfumed letter written on handmade paper.


You must be surprised to find this. You don’t know me yet, but
I’ve known you for quite some time now. I wish to meet you
in person. I hope you will not disappoint me.
See you at seven this evening. Waiting for you.


With loads of love,
Surabhi.
Plot no9,
Walker Street,
Abhinavnagar.

Swayam was puzzled. It was a long time since he got a letter of this nature. He smiled, for certainly he would go tonight.

There was an eerie calm in the street. The lampposts did little to make it more tolerable. Plot no9 was at the end of the road with one window facing it. It was a dimly lit room on the first floor and the silhouette of a woman could be seen, putting colour to her lips.
Swayam walked into the house, took the stairs to the upper floor. It was pitch dark, He felt the wall on his left and switched the light on. While still walking, he removed his denim coat and stretched his arms. He pushed open the second of the two doors in front, and threw himself on the beanbag. The lady jerked at his arrival and gave a wide smile
that was retracted in an instant. She stood there galvanized, blinked at him plainly and the colour from her face was gone. In a few seconds she collected her nerves, and smiled again.

He did not squirm in his place. He lay on the bag still staring upward. She walked towards him throwing her stole on the floor, and said, “so you have kept yourself busy”
“So have you, placing things in people’s pockets and..” he cutoff curving his lips in a crooked smile.
“So you have taken a fancy for Ahmed”
“Or did I? ’ She dropped her arms around him from behind, slipped her hands into his pocket and said, “ and I thought you stopped picking pockets”
He laughed aloud and the gold tooth on his upper jaw shone brilliantly.

Back again!

Its been really long since I stopped blogging. To be precise, a little over a year. One whole year sped off and I only blinked! Its nice to be writing again and putting it here for all to see...
The last six months were nothing short of an upheaval. Placements, exams, gre made life less likable. And then there were a few firsts, long delayed.
No company risked taking me in, so far. Sometimes it was the written test and sometimes the interview. Nothing much to lament about. My first interview lasted for ah..em .. five minutes. There were not many questions and there were no wrong answers as such. Only my interviewer had to extract it from the mumble jumble that I heaped on him. I never knew my shoulders could droop so much.
The rest of it went well. The exams were fine and my GRE score was a real bumper. The 1430 score, seriously unexpected, changed things drastically. I anticipated nearly every turn in life and expected things to be more or less predictable , now that I am jolted out of this, I am glad there is more of the unexpected.
The surprising offshoot of this is the public attention, which took me by more surprise than my score did. There were a few bets about the score and well , for now I am happy shaking hands.
To start off with my blogging ventures, this time I am going to post a story, which I had written a year ago.
Hope you like it.

There was this man...

He was right there, staring at me, when I walked into the compartment.I could sense it almost immediately, a finicky fellow traveller.The rest of my train journey from Vizag to Hyderabad, was well taken care of.
Intrusions from fellow travellers are ordinary,but never fail to surprise me.And so it was when this man asked"where are you going?". I spent a few minutes on the question, I was engrossed in observing the contours of his face.All bald men attract attention in seemingly humorous way and his case was peculiarly so.His eyes I noted where nearly round, the left slightly bigger than the right and I wished he wore blinder on an eye, he was those pirate types.
His girth and colour of clothes (bright red with black dots), reminded me of a tribal warlord.I was just beginning to feel that I was being too cruel to him, when I heard my cousin reply to his question.
"Young ladies these days are always lost in their dreams", he noted and the guy next nodded his head vigorously, ready to make him his moral guru.The 'guru' himself I saw was not that old, he was being too pedagogic in his thirties.I looked at him with disdain.My cousin who is smarter than I am saw what was coming and buried her head in a magazine.He then turned to me with a most soliticious smile and said,"you must be fully aware and always on-guard while travelling, being a girl you know....." taking heed I stopped listening midway and took out a choclate.It was sweltering hot outside and my choclate was nearly liquid. "These days kids have no value for money, they spend on such things", the disciple nodded,"yes,yes"
"go and exchange this, there is time for the departure", he said, "you spent so much on it".
My cousin was chuckling,when she saw I wasnt too happy about it, she pointed to a joke.I left anyway.
"These things are not good, they do not give money's worth", he started.The next half hour he continued with his moral bickerings and his faithful listener only grew too fond of him.I was already bored.My cousin only added to my unhappiness with her intermittent laughter.After the discourse on money saving, wise living and a briefing on his life got over,I felt relieved.
The train stopped at a station, a petite lady came in and sat beside me.Needless to say the men gawked at her.She waved her hand as if brushing them aside,turned to me and said,"I got married recently", I was confused and just nodded."I am going to my in-laws' place", I nodded again."how do you cook brinjal?", she asked, before I could recover she went on with a detailed recipe of hers.My cousin was chuckling, I had no such luxury.She then commenced with her mother-in-law saga, my head was reeling with all those gory details of love and animosity, when thankfully, the 'guru' bailed me out."never wear so much jewellery while travelling",he told her.my cousin laughed.I got up walked to the next compartment, sat by the window, and stared into the open space in thoughtless state.The conversations went on.

The many faces of my fallible mind

I seek some silence.

The sound of unruly cars, grating tyres and incessant horn is pounding my heart. I move into an inner lane and I now hear the sound of a hundred lips, lisping mundane tales. I dont want to listen to them, I dont want to be voyeuristic, but I cant seem to help it.I move away and the cell begins to ring.Sometimes mine, but sometimes others' and I cant do anything but listen as the words waft everywhere , except reach a listener.I shut my ears tight.....I still hear sounds. The songs played last night still ring in my ears. I seek some silence.

I shut myself in four walls, plug my ears and wait. Is this silence...I can slowly discern the rasping movements like the soft sounds inside an overgrown shell . I am vexed.

Images begin to flood my mindscape, randomly seize fertile space and grow. The scaffolding builds rapidly and overwhelms me. I need some quiet..I need some silence.

I look into the mirror and I seem to know it. It is right here, in my mind.

A POEM I TREASURE

Some muted expressions gain wings in verse.So I chose to start off with a poem that I wrote,for which I won the DOM MORAES PRIZE for poetry at 17 and was elected as one of India's promising young poet.I know I am bragging a lot,but just cant seem to help it.Here is the poem,

THE CHARWOMAN

The thin film of water over her iris
Mirrored the dark grey floor she violently swept
The whiteness of her palms was camouflaged by dirt
The wetness of her palms wrinkled her fingers.
In her rising and falling movements her vertebrae jerked.

The sonic sounds of tinkling water hitting the vessels
The smearing of soot on her poplin frock,she bothered not
Her kiss curls indulged in an altercation with her eye
Not condescending she went on
Letting her eyelashes do the peacemaking

When all was done and her eyelids drooped
Her eardrums reverbrating with the mouthful by the mistress
Threw her out of her blissful sleep
Not resenting she dipped and wringed rolls of linen
Allowing the cross on her bosom to be drenched by foam

When the dusk brought with it the crimson hues
She let once more,her coarse leathered slippers
Bite and chew the callus of her feet
And undoing the strings of her apron dirty
She scurried into slimy lanes that smelt of burnt rubber

Her visage grew aglow with warm fondness
As the air was enriched by the affections of theine
Cherubins two hugged her tight as doors flew open
Ushering her in with song of their whispers
They treated their mother to the favours befitting a queen.