Like the Falling Leaves of Autumn

Dried leaves fell slowly, crunching under people's feet. These beautiful leaves would be replaced but that wouldn't lessen the perfection of the scene. The season is finally here, it is finally Autumn.

Two people continue their monotonous live, for they couldn't care less about the seasons. Neither was aware of the others existence, yet were highly similar.

Both were losing control, control over their jobs, lives, families, relations and even their minds. Slowly they spiralled into insanity, because of the crazy world. The world was spinning just too fast, too fast for them to cope. 

One an artist, hurt beyond repair and the other, a doctor, with sorrows beyond compare. The world took away their passion and glory to replace it with pressure and pity.

The artist would go to the studio each day, just the way the doctor made his way to the hospital. The world had once given them love and care but now had replaced it with misery and hatred. 

Both of them fell like the falling leaves of Autumn, crunching under people's feet. This time they fell too bad, too bad to ever return. 

The next day a fresh face walked into the studio, filling the spot of the lost girl. And neither did the hospital ever run out of doctors. 

Just like the leaves both of them fell and were replaced as well. For you see 'the show must go on.' The world shan't stop spinning just for two fallen souls....

Dried leaves fell slowly, crunching under people's feet. These beautiful leaves would be replaced but that wouldn't lessen the perfection of the scene. The season was finally here, it was finally Autumn.

Living old memories, while making some new ones.

Cracking lame jokes, fighting over the radio, listening to my mother's melodious voice singing, discussing embarrassing moments, arguing over which way to take and then saying 'Told you so' when the chosen road has too much traffic. Going into nostalgia while wandering the streets where my parents grew up, watching them both argue over the tiny details! Noticing the smallest developments on the highway. Listening to my sister's vast music play-list. Laughing when dad ruins the lyrics of the songs, grooving to the beats with my sister and listening to my brother's endless chatter. Having heated debates over grave issues. Making shapes out of clouds, or even classifying the types of clouds! Stopping midway for a snack, reading the 'Truck Slogans' and laughing our heads off, cursing the people with no traffic sense. Sometimes just remaining silent. Living old memories, while making some new ones.

These little things make the huge distance worthwhile. It is the journey that matters, not the destination. Finally we all get time out of our busy schedules and work, to catch up and have fun together. What else can we do on a six hour long journey?! This journey truly means a lot to me and really makes me smile. People ask me over and over again 'Don't you find travelling to Delhi so often tiring?' well what can I say, these hours are simply precious.

She Would Fly

She was broken and hurt,
yet she didn't let it show,
she slowly wiped her tears,
looked down at her toes,
everyone heard what had happened,
but the truth was known to a few,
yet somehow her face still glowed,
she was strong, she knew,
broken, perhaps, but not destroyed,
she would move on with life,
the past couldn't bind her,
she would fly,


No, the tears weren't her weakness,
they were fragments of her strength,
she is brave and dauntless,
strong and determined,
don't you worry about her,
she'll resurrect,
she would fly,



Worry about him,
because he has lost the best,
she walked out on him,
like she always did,
but this time was different,
for even a goodbye she didn't bid,
she won't look back this time,
she would fly,


She had been hurt too much,
to ever go back now,
she took a vow such,
which she wasn't willing to go back on,
she won't let this drown her,
the scars were just a reminder,
that he wasn't worth the effort,
and neither the time,
she promised  herself that,
she would fly.

Dear Lavender Fay

Dear Lavender Fay,

You are as bright as day, you are the most beautiful and intellectual creature that I have had the pleasure to meet. The spark in your eyes when you talk of literature, the way you get lost in your books. Everything about you makes me spellbound.  You deserve a better life than you have received, I out of all people know that yet the courage with which you have moved with is admirable. Lavender it took me long to realise this but I am very sure, I am in love with you. When you laugh I feel at the top of the world and when you shed tears, I feel an ache inside. Never think that you have no one left for I am always here. Lavender you have made me realise that there is more to life than what meets the eye, and that life is worthwhile no matter what. I should have confessed earlier yet I was not brave enough, now I have poured my heart on these papers just like you always tell me to. 

Yours Forever

Aaron

He read the unsent letter with tears in his eyes. His hands trembled and his fingers grazed her name as he muttered 'Dear Lavender Fay'.Only if he had the courage, only if it had reached her before she slit her wrists. Only if she knew she mattered,and was loved. Perhaps then the storm raging inside her head might have cooled. 'Dear Lavender Fay' he muttered once again.

For theirs was a love that never died

She walked in, looking stunning. He stared at her with an open mouth. She gave him one glance and moved away, yet his eyes were set on her all the way. She confidently went around socialising, bubbling with chatter. He glanced at her after every tiny moment, but reverted his eyes whenever she caught his gaze. She still had the softness in her eyes and the merriness in her voice. At the end of the day, when she finally came to talk, there was no sweetness left. Cold eyes replaced the soft ones and a harsh voice replaced the merry one. Yet among all the coldness he saw some warmth, some love. He knew he had broken her, he knew he had hurt her. So he took all her insults without a complaint, as there was hope that her feelings still remained.

She opened the door unsure of herself, yet put on a confident smile as she entered. She saw him looking at her, and ignored the flutter in her heart. She spoke to everyone she knew, she received all the compliments. Whenever she glanced in his direction, he'd always be staring. She tried cooling the butterflies in her stomach, but they went on flying. He still looked the same with the same deep eyes. She went to have a word with him out of basic courtesy. She knew she had been harsh in the past, and both of them had been wounded, yet that didn't stop her from mocking him till the day's end. She taunted him, and spoke offensively, but all he gave was a knowing smile and looked ahead. The smile made her soft once again.She felt warmth in her heart, felt that there was hope, knowing he hadn't walked away on the insults made her soften some more.

Both of them walked out that day with optimism in their hearts.They had some sliver of hope, that perhaps their love wasn't lost, perhaps the other still had some love no matter how much it had hurt.But neither told the other how they felt, they waited for the right moment, the moment when they were sure.Maybe someday they'll get back together and be happy once more. Perhaps the fire of their love would ignite once more from its embers, just like a phoenix, for theirs was a love that never died.

The Swing in the Clouds

A wooden plank held together by chains. A place where you can sway without a care. From where you can stare at the grass below and the blue sky high above, where you feel like you are high up in the clouds, where you can feel the mild wind on your face, a place where things are calm.

Yes, I am talking about a swing in a random park. The swing has been my escape since I was very young, sitting there and simply swinging used to make my day. I used to forget about the storms raging at home, about the bad kids at school teasing me for being overweight, even the 'Alphabet' homework that I hadn't done. I remember my father pushing me higher on purpose, as he knew it scared me. I used to close my eyes, when it went too high, and imagine that I was flying. Flying away from this world into a happy paradise. I remember my mother laughing at my shouts of protest about going higher. Sometimes I would sit there when things at home weren't happy. I sat there and cried my heart out for being called 'fat' at school. I would stare up at the sky,  lose myself in my imagination and forget my tiny problems.


After a while, the swing didn't matter anymore. I thought people would call me a kid for sitting there and that my problems were now too big to be fixed by a mere swing set. I was wrong. A few days back, I found a swing in a park close to my house, it looked a lot like the one I used to sit on. It was the same plank of wood, cut unevenly and held together by rusty chains. It wasn't pretty but it was 'real', like life.  I sat on it and closed my eyes without a care of what people said. I thought of my dad pushing my swing higher, my mother giggling on the side. I looked at the tiny kids playing around, running happily, not concerned of the things around. The sky was the same old bright blue, the blades of grass were still green. I sat there and sang, I don't have a nice voice but no one was there to hear it. I felt alive after a very longtime. I didn't care about the people who called me fat, neither about the storms not even about all the work I had left. For a while life felt easy, peaceful.


A tiny child came running to the swing and looked at me with expecting eyes. I got off the swing and let her have the swing, I saw her father push her high and her mother laugh beside her, a smile crept to my lips. I sat on a close by bench and watched her enjoy. Watched her borrow my paradise for a while.

There she stood outside the window

I can't go close to windows without getting the chills. My curtains are never left drawn, I try to always keep them closed. I would get rid of them entirely if I could but that is not an option. If I am alone in a room I don't even look at the windows, but it wasn't like this before.  I remember it clear as though it were yesterday, sometimes it still scares me.

It was raining really heavily. I sat on my bed staring out of the window. My window was huge almost covering the whole wall, you could see my whole garden through it. I was a fan of windows believe it or not, the reason I chose this room was because of the huge window. I am usually fond of rain too but that day I was really annoyed. I couldn't watch a football match because the electricity supply cut off because of the rain. A bolt of thunder struck, a silver wavy line across the dark velvet sky. Each time a lightning bolt hit, it became as bright as day outside. Though I was still very annoyed, I couldn't help but be mesmerised by the beauty of the scene. My bed was really close to the window. I lay down and closed my eyes, feeling the spray of the rain on my face. My dog, Oliver, started barking very loudly. I opened my eyes, and I saw a shadow. The shadow fell onto my garden, which meant whatever the shadow belonged to was close to my window. I sat up and rubbed my eyes and stared out again. I thought perhaps it was the shadow of the lemon tree in my garden, though I doubted it. Still being the scaredy cat I am. I drew the curtains close. I lay back in my bed and was drifting off to sleep when I hear Oliver howl, not a bark , a proper howl. I jumped out of my bed and went outside. The howls stopped as soon as I stepped out. The silence was even more scary. I looked at the garden and saw nothing, I looked in the garage,in the house but I couldn't find my dog anywhere. I decided to go back in and look for Oliver in the morning instead. I was surprised that my parents hadn't woken up, especially because my dad is a light sleeper and wakes up at the tiniest of sounds. I went over to my window, moved the curtain a bit and looked out and saw the shadow again, I quickly let go of the curtain,it fell back to its place covering the window again. I decided I just needed some sleep

Next morning I woke up early. I went out to see whether Oliver was anywhere. I looked everywhere. This time as it was day time and I wasn't scared as much as last night, I went into my backyard. What I saw scarred me for life. My dog was practically ripped into pieces. I screamed and cried at the same time. My mom took me back inside the house. I felt horrible, I loved my dog couldn't I go see the backyard last night? I thought. Though now that I look back there wasn't much I could've done even if I did go that night. 

The next night too it rained. This time even heavier. I stared outside still filled with remorse. I admired how bright it became whenever the lightning struck the sky. I saw the shadow again but this time I could see more details, it was most probably a girl as she had long hair and was definitely wearing a dress that flowed with the wind  The shadow had a bent back. I kept staring until it disappeared. I shivered 'Who the hell was she?' 'Why was she standing in my front lawn?' 'Did she do something to Oliver?' these questions roamed in my head. The lightning struck again and then I saw her.............

There she stood, outside the window. She had long hair and wore a white dress which was really long and waved with the wind. Her face was wrinkled, her back was bent. She wasn't all bloody neither burnt like you  would see in a movie.Only her fingertips had blood, as though she had ripped something....I didn't want to think who those hands had ripped. She was scarily pale, her eyes were blank and entirely emotionless. I screamed really loudly. My parents rushed in, all I could do was point at the window, which showed nothing but the garden outside. When I explained it to my parents, my dad actually gave it some thought but my mom dismissed it saying it was  because I was shocked over Oliver's death. 

To cool me down my parents agreed to switch rooms for a while. That night I fell asleep quickly. I heard a scream, it was my mom's. I rushed to my room and saw my mom on the ground weeping while my dad calmed her down. She was staring at the window, saying "She was there, she...she." From then my mom believed that supernatural stuff existed. My mom had always thought that it was utter nonsense, but I was sure that this had changed her mind. Though I don't know whether what I saw was something supernatural for sure, but it was surely abnormal.

Experiences change us.We left that house as soon as we could. Its been years, I don't know who she was. But she has left me scarred, I will never own a dog again and I would never the white dress that I own which resembles the one she wore. I doubt I will ever like windows again or the rain. My story, though is not as scary as the movies you watch or the books you read, but when it happens to you in real life you forget all the scary faces in the movies because in those moments none of those seem to be a candle in front of the sun. Those few minutes affected me in a way that nothing else ever has and I doubt ever could. I know there are bigger things that have occurred in people's lives, but for me this was one big blow. 

Sometimes when the rainfalls....

Sometimes when the rainfalls, its only for the ones who are broken. Yet sometimes it is for the ones who need a fresh beginning . Sometimes for the ones that need to let go. Whereas some are just pluviophiles and find peace in the falling rain. Finally sometimes simply for the admirers
 

The Lost Slum in the Glory of India

I woke up just like every day, hearing the old lady's yell. I had no idea what it was about today, maybe one of the pickle bottles were missing or perhaps a cat had entered her house. This was not eccentric for our slum. I heard another scream so I went out to see what was going on. I saw all of the people gathered outside their sheds. I asked one of the ladies what the matter was, she told me “There has been a fight over meat, two of the young men were ready to slice each other for the piece that the old lady possessed.” These kinds of fights startled me as a kid but now they were a common sight, silly fights over petty issues. All of these men wore scars on their faces with pride.

According to the people on the other side of the town it was a bright sunny Sunday but for us it was just another day in this dingy hell where no day would pass without a quarrel. My mother was not at home, she worked as a domestic help in several houses .My father died in one such brawl over a loaf of bread and my brother had never seen the face of school, he was instead involved in theft and stole to finance his drug addiction, one tends to fall prey to such habits while living here.

When I insisted on going to school my mother admitted me in a government school close to our slum. I went to school happily with my friend Geeta, after school it was like a ritual to go to the garbage dump, the garbage was just a useless heap for people but it was a treasure for us, you see one man's trash is another man's treasure In our slum being a good rag picker is considered a talent.


Our slum is the definition of unhygienic; it is practically crawling with diseases. It is known to all but little help is offered. I always dreamt that after passing school I will somehow fix the conditions of all the slums in India. Everyone would scoff and say, “Kamala you have lost your wits!” whenever they heard about it. My mother did not support my enthusiasm about the idea either because she thought it would lead to a lot of expenditure, it was just an unrealistic and unfeasible wish.

I quickly finished my homework and went outside to look for Geeta. I found her playing outside with the other children of our slum. We both picked up our thin plastic bags and went to the dump. After searching a lot all we found were two hair clips, a torn shawl, a pair of shoes with a hole and a soggy pack of tomatoes. Not an ideal treasure but good enough nonetheless. Searching for things in a dumpster is rather tiring.

When I returned, I went to Sudha aunty's shed to look for my baby sister. Most of us don't even know each other's name but our helpful neighbor Sudha aunty usually offered to take care of my sister while I was out. I thanked aunty and took my sister back to our shed.

Life continued in its monotonous manner. Geeta and I were at the dumpster searching for something useful. I rather tired and hadn't been able to find anything useful. I was about to head back to the slum when I saw something glittering in the sunlight. I had found a gold chain under a heap of garbage! I couldn't believe my luck! I stared at it for a while wondering whether it was genuine. Later that day I took the chain to a jeweler, he confirmed that it was genuine and was worth a lot of money. I was on cloud nine! After a while I sold the chain and received an amount of money that I had never seen in my life before. I decided to save the money and to keep it a secret because it would put us in danger here. After convincing my mother a lot by telling her that if I got a nice
career it would be good for all of us, I got an admission in a renowned university. I worked hard, studied day and night, gradually I became a politician.

Yes, I had succeeded. I changed everything in the slums; I began with my own. I built houses for people, made food available for everyone mainly the children and adults who were malnourished. I provided them free education and gave them a hygienic environment so that people could lead a disease free life. I couldn't provide them a luxurious life, but I surely gave them the basic necessities. No one recognised them as rag pickers anymore.

Looking at the face of the joyous and happy people, there is nothing that could give me more pleasure than knowing that I had helped them change their lives. I was very proud of myself. It was a wonderful sight to see a totally changed world of the slums which had once been horrendous. I was determined to help all other slums too.

Suddenly I heard my younger sister's shrill cry. Before it was too late I realised that I had been dreaming. Life had been unfair to us all this time and it still was. I didn't find a gold chain in the dump the next day, nor the on days that came after.

My shining dream was lost in the gloomy darkness of reality. My dream was nothing but a dream of dreams. There are no fairy tale endings in the real mortal world. Oh! How I wish it were true! Our Slum was still lost in the glory of India.