Gulmohar

And then there were two girls, blossoming under the shade of Gulmohars. Their meet was a chance of fate, pole opposites yet hearts in the right place.

Siamese Twins.

Dream Catchers.

Do-Gooders.

Under the watchful eyes of the orange blooms, they learnt, cried, laughed and fought. Weaving petals into the braids of each other’s hair, they shared secrets, and over cups of badly made chai, poured their hearts out.

On most days you could find them lying on a thatched cot on the terrace, legs hanging and heads dangling over edges of the cot. A sky of green leaves over their heads, punctured by blue clouds.

Cloud gazers.

Tear jerkers.

Memory keepers.

Love is a strange thing, it makes you understanding, and comforts in time of need, pushes people together but in their case drove a wedge between them.

Words that could never be stopped, stopped.

Eyes that spoke, bore a grudge.

Tears hung from jaws that once carried smiles.

Parting ways, they swore wouldn’t trace their footsteps back to each other. The city was divided into two, still not enough for the sea and salt to separate.

One winter, long after the blossoms died, one of the two found a crumpled wilted flower, one she was about to step onto. Safely tucking it in between pages of her diary, she reached out, unsure of how large the distance between them had stretched to.

Two texts. One nostalgic phone call.

They stood under the shade of the tree, all these years and nothing changed.

Half a foot taller.

Thinner waistlines.

Yet the same appetite.

Off season the flowers didn’t sprout, but a pair of orange ice gola stained tongues turned out to be a good substitute.

Period Brain

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For 5 days a month, I suffer from a rare (I hope not) syndrome called ‘Period Brain’. Common symptoms include –

  • Inability to think, which is basically so bad that if someone were to ask me what 2 plus 2 is and then waved 4 fingers in front of my face, I’d answer seven.
  • The super human power of being able to beat a sloth’s sleeping capacity and maintain a lead by atleast 4 hours.
  • Hulk rage, putting things into perspective I just had a fight with my mother cause she kept talking and talking and all the mitochondria in my body just gave up, slumped, dug a burrow and disappeared underneath it.
  • Teeth grinding irritation.
  • Fatigue, all the damn time. Sleeping is also tiresome. So I go to sleep tired, feel tired while I’m sleeping and wake up tired too.
  • Terrible decision making skills, given a choice between investing all of my life’s savings in either high return stocks or ice cream, I’d choose icecream. Also managed to have instant noodles and icecream for lunch and dinner yesterday.
  • Mood swings that range from I’m going to kill him to I want to have sex with him, all under 2 minutes.
  • Extreme emotions, I cry on reading, watching and sometimes even listening to things. Like if my friend’s distant cousin’s ex girlfriend’s uncle’s grandfather’s aunt was going through a tough time, you’d find me teary eyed.
  • The ravenous – I’ve been starving for a decade kind. I recently polished 6 doughnuts, all chocolate center filled, in about 15 minutes and had been craving for cheese burst pizza since then, and Oh, I’ll then look at my tummy and lack of exercise and the amazing clarity with which my brain calculates how many calories I’ve put on and then send me packing back to sorry land only to use dark chocolate to get out of that dark street.

 

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And to think of it, I’ve been fighting the age old ‘woman-act-like-straight-up-witches-on-a-broom-with-chocolate-as-their-kryptonite’ during their period opinion, but I can’t seem to tame myself when things get the proverbial down and dirty.

Henceforth, cutting my rant short here, I’d like to state that in 3 more days I’ll be back in the control of my body and mind and the reign of the Satan’s little devil aunt flow will end, finally.

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PS – What is with these bloody period ads, why don’t ads makers have enough sense into making realistic ads that don’t require me to jump through barricades nor shove my butt into people’s faces or trek mountains and prance around in whites!?

Instead make a simple tampon ad that tells people that the dragons need their rest and shouldn’t be disturbed and along with every packet of pads come a coupon for ice cream/ dark chocolates/ the cheesiest pizzas/ dense chocolate brownies at a flat 50% off.

And that’s how you keep it simple.

Stumble

Of dark nights and the things you stumble on,

Of long walks and silence that envelops you,

Of days that push you to the edge of your soul,

Of words that stay stuck in the pen,

Of many that are said but don’t mean a thing,

Of those that need to be said yet don’t have a voice,

Of clenched jaws, blinding anger, punctured armor, tattered soles,

Of life.

A pinch of salt, a squeeze of lime, a bar of chocolate, a cube of ice.

Corners

I pulled a chair into the balcony, it had been raining since morning, at times a cloud burst and bought in a fury of water, thundering and rumbling and then so, it drizzled and poured, like a woman unable to make up her mind, leering at the pastry counter and weighing whom she loved more, chocolate or butterscotch, yet ultimately taking two of each.

For most part of the day, there wasn’t any electricity, so me and an empty house, the rains, rhythmic melody of tip tap and fragrance, grey skies and lush green trees, tiny rivulets running down the length of my arms and pools of water in the grasp of my palms, trying to win endless battles against the laws of fluid dynamics.

Making myself a cup of coffee, a book and a pillow plonked on my lap, I wondered how long it had been since I felt at peace, no internet pulling you into the virtual world, no television screaming at the top of its lungs, no soul to put a brake on the train of your thoughts.

If I could, I would buy myself a piece of the sky to lie under,

A little place in the forest, where its scent rubs off on you,

And if you were really quiet, you could listen to your heartbeat.

Shut your eyes and disappear underneath a sky full of stars,

Watch the mountains from afar,

Let the rain seep into the pores of my skin,

Spend hours making constellations, and guessing shapes of the clouds.

An invisible corner in the middle of nowhere,

For when thoughts burden your shoulders and make your head feel heavy,

To take a pause from time.

Walk away from the mess,

Paint your nails red, the leaves pink,

Carve love on the barks of trees.

Wait for the waves to bring back what was once yours,

And the wind to take you, to where you truly belong.

Single Pringle vs Double Trouble

More often than not, I think about saviors, better halves as they are called vaguely. Those who lend a shoulder, sometimes an ear to your sorrows, wipe your tears, make you laugh, leave a blush on your cheeks, throw you in a mad fit of rage, unlock the green gremlins of jealousy yet send a thousand violins to play in sync on the arrival of their thoughts.

And then I read a hundred words, on how you should be your own person, pick up your crumbs, build walls, and abandon that ship wreck of a life that you have, put on a life jacket, swim a mile and set off for a new island, to build it all up from scratch.

Is it unreal that we have such high expectations from others or such low ones from ourselves?

There are days that I want to curl myself up like a cat on someone’s lap, some days when you need that one hug, smile, and pat of comfort. And no, this isn’t something that you’d get from just anybody, a flurry of tingles and goosebumps that automatically sets and signifies the presence of a particular person.

Other days when I pick up my sword (my backpack that I carry everywhere), put on a brave face, line my eyes with kohl to underline the message and set off to war. With an armory of jokes on what fun it is to be single (I’d give it a 10% fun limit), and come up with an automatic defense mechanism. You find someone inching dangerously close to the single talk territory, you push/shove/trump them in their race by coming up with witty one liners/humor on the apathy of being single.

All this fight, watching public display of affection, listening to other’s ‘Aww’ love stories leaves you injured, and chocolate turns into your immediate relief balm.

They say don’t actively search for love, it’s supposed to hit you in the face when you least expect it and jerk away the carpet right underneath your feet, now that is exactly how you fall head over heels in love.

But they also add that you attract what you think, hence forth keep yourself in that frame of mind, to attract yourself a man (yeah, right!?) Honestly enough right now I could go and pull a guy by his hand and attach 2 huge unlike pole magnets just with the intention to attract and it would immediately repel and deflect and zoom a thousand kilometers tangent.

In all this wishing, praying, hoping, giving up nonsense, what do you really do?

Do you wait for prince charming to finally give up that he has no clue on directions, use the damn GPS and track his way back to you or do you decide it’s high time that he show up, pack a few sandwiches for the road and pull him back on track by his ears?