Down memory lane


This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 49; the forty-ninth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

Relieving the shot glass of its content down my throat, I brace myself for the familiar gut wrenching moments. Cold sweat start to appear on my forehead as I fall off the chair onto the floor. Curling up along the carpet, my head starts to get heavy as I feel the force pulling me from all directions. Spinning around wildly, I wonder about my destination, hoping for a different destination, a different event, a different memory.Alas!! I know my hopes are of futile nature. Ending up in the same familiar room, the constant beeping, the blinding whiteness, I look from a distance as she holds onto arms tightly. Under her canopy of stars of the ceiling, I stand holding back tears, trying hard to remain strong, to swallow the choke in my throat, I try to smile. I really do. Looking into those big brown eyes and those smiling little lips, I find my comfort. Moments pass away as those eyes close. Only the smile is constant. I can cry now, I say to myself.

Looking at the  watch, I wait for the force to take me back. Again the gut wrenching moment, my body being pulled from all sides as I spin wildly back to my living room. Tears, I have no control over, start to work their way out. Clutching her photo, I whisper to myself, “Only if you were here Vaani. Only if I could be with you.”

Maybe I’ll come again tomorrow. Maybe I’ll be strong tomorrow. Maybe I’ll walk down memory lane again tomorrow, but today let me cry. Today, let me be weak, because a parent who has buried his child is not built to be strong.

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Participation Count: 12

Lights.


This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 43; the forty-third edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for the month is “LIGHT”

 

He was told, on the night of diwali his one wish would come true. On this festival of lights,  the only thing this eight year old boy asked was to go deaf. So he would not be able to hear the constant shouting matches between his parents and pretend that his was a happy family.

 

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Participation Count: 11

The last look.


This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 42; the forty-second edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for the month is “COLOR”

Final-Goodbye“The time has come” I finally sighed the words as I glanced around what had been my abode for the last 21 years of my life. The very place I first walked, spoke out my first words, cried and shit the first time and other such loving memories. The old rickety bed whose sound I used to hate, all of a sudden seemed pleasant to my ears, the rusty cabinet at the corner, pictures depicting my timeline adorned the doors of which and the walls of my room, on which with the bare hands of mine I colored the random colors of life. Sometimes when you are supposed to leave, even the things that annoy you the most seem so loving, as if pleading you not to go. In the last few days of my packing, I glanced through each of the things that lay remain in the most hidden corners of the room and heart, reminisced about them for hours on, braved through a few nervous breakdowns and continued to pack.

*buzz* *buzz*

Looking up at phone, my heart dropped as Vaani written in bold letters flashed across the screen and across the fields of time, I travelled back to the day I first met her.

“So when two electrons form a bond by…..”

“Ma’am, may I come in?”

It was the first period of our 11th standard. Chemistry. Sigh. As Mrs Sharma went on and on about how romantically the electrons made love to each other in different positions of Co-valent bond and electron bond, in walked Vaani. My eyes clicked with hers, I tried to awkwardly smile at her while she waited for permission to enter into the class.It has been 6 years since the day and the memory of it remains on my heart like the every other moment I spent with her.

*buzz**buzz*

Across the time, the buzzing brings me back to my present, I answer it.

“Hi”

“Soo, you are finally leaving?”

“Yeah. it’s about time. Where are you?”

“Look out the window.”

As I look down, I see her standing below. Running downstairs, I go and hug her tight. And in that moment, I felt what I was leaving behind. It weren’t the things that played their role growing up, it wasn’t my room that I was leaving behind, I was leaving a part of me. A part of me in that beautiful yet messy room of, a part of me in that city which helped me grow up and the biggest piece with Vaani. The heaviness of the moment took its toll and a sniff came around the corner.
“Shhh. Vivaan. Everything’s going to be okay.” Vaani consoled me as I hugged her tighter. As I released her from me, I could see the smudge mascara on her face and the ruined kajal across her eyes.

“I love you Vaani” was all that I could manage with the big lump in my throat.
“I love you too Vivaan.” she replied and hugged me once again.

There are some moments in your life when you wish the time stopped and the world stayed as it is, I wished the same during the time. The hug from Vaani gave all the comfort and consoling I needed and wished we always remained the same.

As I bid her goodbye and loaded the stuff onto the cab, I tried to capture every little thing that in a way, smaller or bigger made an impact in my life and in that moment I learned the true essence of life. Things change. Memories don’t. And in those times memories are the only things that keep you sane and happy. Like Dumbledore once said: Happiness can be found in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light.

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Participation Count: 10

Braying along


This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 41; the forty-first edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for the month is “SWEET AND SOUR”

Sometimes being  human is a very difficult task to do. You make a very odd mistake and then cringe and shake your head like you just tasted on a little sweet yet very sour lemon.For example, in the early years of my childhood, when I was hardly 3 or 4 and used to stay in this little town called Mehsana of Gujarat, I suddenly woke up from my noon slumber from the braying of the donkeys. Having never seen a donkey before in my life, I got really excited and much to the shame of my mom, I started having a braying war with the creatures at 3 PM waking up all my neighbours and making them stare out wondering what sort of demon had possessed me. After about 5 mins of braying at the top of my voice in the balcony, my mom dragged me inside and put off to sleep. Every Time that memory comes to me, my shoulders automatically shrug themselves and a cold breath emerges from my mouth. Even after about 15 years since the event passed, I am still reminded of the incident whenever our whole family gets together.

Even though our lives our strewn with such sweet and sour memories, such moments are the ones that make us laugh and cry at ourselves and making it worth living for.

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Participation Count: 09

Make a Wish


This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 40; the fortieth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for the month is “MAKE A WISH”

Make a wish, they said.

To have true friends, I said.

You don’t have friends they asked?

I do have friends, I said.

What’s wrong with them they asked?

One is fickle, one has forgotten

one just simply doesn’t care

the other has found new ones

some don’t want to talk

some don’t want to meet

some just don’t think it’s worth the time, I said.

So the only wish I make, is to have a friend

who wants to,

talk to me

hangout with me

care about me

and means the world to me

and then they just stood there quietly.

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Participation Count:08

The Woman on Platform Number 10


This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 37; the thirty-seventh edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for the month is “Truth is stranger than fiction”

Recently I got this great chance to visit a certain SpeedFest meet arranged by a blogging community over which Lewis Hamilton was invited. Being a huge F1 fan, I did not let this chance go and was on my next train to Mumbai, the place where it was being held. I stayed in Ahmedabad, but whatever happens I knew I had to attend this particular event.
It was one of those beautiful cloudy days in Ahmedabad. Perfect temperature and a sense of exhilaration prevailed in the air.I loved these days, they made me watch sky endlessly and smile for the whole beauty of nature. All in all a beautiful day to travel.
I always loved the train journeys. Always so eventful. You get to watch all kinds of people, interact with them, get to know them. Somehow in the hustle-bustle of the railway station, I always found peace.
On my arrival, I learnt that my train was delayed for about 4 hours. Cursing the Indian railways, I take up my seat in the midst of the platform and prepare to spend the hours with Angry Birds. *sigh*. At that precise moment  a beauty walked down the aisle. A tweed jacket on her arms, a suitcase trailing along the wheels and a gorgeous personality pulling it. Black hair, deep grey eyes as if they could take in all the secrets of all the world. A graceful  walk with no air of attitude or any kind of smugness, A smile that could wipe away the sadness from the earth. They way she tucked her hair behind her ear made me awestruck. As I looked towards the girl again, I seemed to have forgotten all of my deep worries and all I wanted to do was to sit and watch a beauty do her work. Comes out as a creepy stalker but in that moment I just wasn’t in control of myself or my body. As she set her stuff from the chair across mine, I was overjoyed to have a pretty person sit close to me.What a way to spend the delayed time. To avoid looking like a creeper,I fumbled across the first book that came to my hand while rummaging inside my book, I opened it and pretended to read it while stealing occasional glances at her. Man I had to go talk to her.
So in my head I started to play out various scenarios about the way how I would approach her or how to squeeze the words out of my mouth without making a complete idiot of me.
“Hey have I seen you somewhere?” was the first thing that came to me. Ewww no responded my mind. You are watching too many BollyWood movies Harshal.
Then how about, “Hi, how are you? You look like your plane just landed from the heaven, angel.” Yeah perfect if you want to spend the next two nights of your life in jail. Too cheap I guess. Well then how about a simple “Hi.” Are you seriously asking me that? My brain replied. She is a perfect beauty and you  my friend are a dork. There is no way a simple Hi is going to get you anywhere. Bingo again. My brain suddenly stared working faster than Chacha Chaudhari. I don’t know why people say your Brain stops working the moment you see a pretty girl. They’re wrong. It’s the tongue that stops coming out of your mouth to help brain work. Anyway I was back to contemplating on how I would talk to this girl. Without getting any turn downs from my brain, I decided to go there and introduce myself and ask her for the incredibly expensive coffee of the airport.
And so putting my stuff down, I got up and walked straight towards her. But as soon as I neared her my brain kicked in and I went straight to the book stall without even a second glance at her.
“What the hell brain? Why do you keep doing this to me?”
“Because I like to torture you, my friend. That’s all.”
Shutting up my brain, I calmed down, composed myself and went back to the comfort of my pre-warmed seat. There I sat for another half hour making plans and discarding them at quiet a pace. Risking a glance from my book, my eyes suddenly met her and somehow I lost it all again to my brain. Instead of moving them elsewhere, the brain kept them transfixed to the spot  and a sort of warm feeling surged through my body and soul.It was like a deep connection had been made and it felt like I knew her from quite a time. I just simply could not move my eyes off her and somehow a smile passed on from my lips to hers. She replied with a smile and I was the happiest man alive on the planet. Blood pumped in great amounts and I could almost hear my heart being plugged into loudspeakers for the whole world to hear. It was an exhilarating feeling.  Just then, the from across the platform her train arrived. It deeply saddened me and I was there sitting not knowing what to do, after all only a smile had been passed and nothing else so I returned to my book. I also sensed a dejected look on the girls face and watched her carry her stuff with that perfect walk of hers onto that boarding passage. My eyes returned back to her seat only to watch a tissue paper folded in the shape of an heart kept at the exact same place as the girl sat. I quickly ran to the seat grabbed the tissue paper and opened it. It read: Radha, 9090909090. 🙂 ❤
And I was again on the 9th cloud. Blood again flowed through my body at a pace my heart couldn’t control and I was the happiest man again. Well all in all, Love at First Sight does exist. After all she was the Woman on the Platform Number 10.

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Participation Count: 07

Riches to rags


This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 36; the thirty-fifth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for the month is “and then there were none”

A perfect life was wanted

Free of stains and disorder

True feelings to be hidden

across the smile borders.

Too beautiful  to last

a picture perfect story

was now his wonderful past.

Too fragile, yet broken

his story is in the minds, though

not spoken.

Surrounded by humans,

one he could call not friend

his life went on

till the end.

A beautiful house,

an amazing car

were all traded

and then there were none

he could call a friend.

The subject of jokes

remembering his past,

he thinks, “Was it worth it”?

The money, the life.

Pulling  out the weapon

he points it at self

praying at the last moment

he forces the trigger to go.

A stone is erected

speaking volumes of the unfair world,

from riches to rags,

a man who has lived through all.

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. , Participation Count: 06