Where might Ira have gone to?

What was really the reason why she had to run away from everything , all of it was going exactly per  "THE PLAN" ,  and " THE PLAN" was after all the only thing that she had relied on to keep her life going just as she wanted it to. Mr. Holloway had no clue whatsoever , none ... nothing came to his mind at all ...... he just stood there , blank faced and blank of mind ...... staring at the room of his littler girl who was all grown up now .... the doors and windows wide open , looking over their big green backyard where she had grown up playing all year through.

The cupboards were open too , not much was out of place in that room even now ..... her clothes were neatly stacked almost grouped by color or shade ..... shirts,weaters and tops on one side , the dresses ,coats and trousers on the other. All her things from when she was 17, and had moved out were still in place  ...... ,He looked into the cupboard and thought " Ohh she kept that sweater !! And she brought it back with her! I know she didn't like it one bit but how sweet my Ira is ....."  , soon as Mr. Holloway felt this thought going through his head , he felt his heart fill up with love. But he thought of his wife next , as he looked at the big garment bag hanging on the Cupboard door...... there was a hint of worry on his face now .

" Nora is going to faint right on the phone if I call her and tell her that Ira is gone . No , I mustn't share this over the phone . Ohh , Nora why are you so high on drama , Ira takes after you and look , look what has come of it !!!" Mr. Holloway didn't even realise that he was now talking out loud , till he noticed Jay looking at him half concerned and half about to ask him a question .

" Ohh I am sorry Jay , this is a tab bit much for even me and all too sudden, you must excuse my nerves. I may claim to be young at heart but these two women , the loves of my life ... my daughter and my wife are  not easy to be around , my nerves are not what they used to be. Thank you so much for not spilling the beans on my daughter's , well whatever this is , whatever she has gotten into this time .... back at the Hotel, in front of my wife! "

Jay was thin, slightly above average in height, had greasy yet well kept hair , his square spectacles made his square jaw stand out even more ..... but his kind eyes gave his face a very appealing quality . Appealing not like a good looking movie actor is, but appealing like the stranger you might bump into on the subway , and would feel absolutely comfortable sharing all your troubles with . For a young man of 28 , Jay looked much younger , may be that is why Mr. Holloway couldn't take him as seriously as Jay wanted him to . The fact that Jay was always dressed in khaki's , a suspender and bright shirts , with sneakers on , probably also didn't help.

Jay was a sharp contrast to Mr. Holloway , he called him Mr. T , short for Theodore . Mr Theodore Holloway , looked exactly like Jay had imagined he would , before he first met him 11 years ago . Mr. Holloway was a smart looking man of 60 now. He had a thick head of peppered hair , more salt than pepper if one were to be precise . He had small deep set , sympathetic eyes , the lines or the lack of them, on his face told you that he came from affluence. The perpetual natural tan gave him an air of someone who was well travelled. There were quite a few soft lines around his mouth , wrinkles around his eyes were still not quite there but you could make them out when he would laugh or smile big. Mr. Holloway liked to dress up crisp, at all times of the day. Even after his retirement , which was more self imposed than necessary, he always was well dressed no matter what time of day one were to drop in on the Holloway household. His face looked wise and he always spoke of the world like he knew it just so well and the world knew him ,like an old friend . Nothing was too much , or a surprise for Mr Holloway usually . He was a man of many words, a man of wisdom and of immense patience .

If Mr. Theodore looked like the frazzled man he did right now , it usually meant that either his wild, excitable daughter Ira or his beautiful and overzealous wife Nora had gotten some idea in their heads that they were for all intents and purposes hell bent on pursuing , much to the chagrin of Mr. Holloway.  Jay remembered how for the 16th Birthday of Ira , both Nora and Ira had decided to have homeless people invited to the restaurant where the celebration was planned to take place. Which of course meant Mr. Holloway had to make it happen by talking the restaurant into allowing homeless people to dine at their establishment and by rounding up enough homeless people from the shelter next to the church. Jay almost felt sorry for Mr. Holloway back then , and he felt just as bad for himself now.

Jay though to himself , " How life comes full circle sometimes, like Ira says."
"Oh , I understand Mr. T , it's absolutely normal to feel .... ahhh a little overwhelmed, given what has happened. I knew Mrs. Holloway would take it too hard , so I got you out of the house and brought you straight here to see if you could perhaps make any sense of this. I am not sure if we should be worried , I mean its Ira and she sometimes likes to push our buttons by pulling these disappearances doesn't she ?" And then he answered his question with just as much strain in his voice ....." Ohh , I dunno what shall we do now Mr. T ? I have been trying Ira's phone since last evening , and its switched off . " Jay said , as he looked around the room again to see if he could somehow figure out where Ira might be from what was in her bedroom.

Mr Holloway pursed his lips together and closed his eyes as though about to laugh , he was tired and with a deep breath he said sharply  , " Jay, well I warned you when you walked into our house holding her hand more than a decade ago . I told you , she is like a bright , beautiful flame ..... you can't hold her , you will want to , but you can't . That's how Nora was , I don't know how I have managed to keep that woman from running away for good , because there have been times when she came this close to leaving me and little Ira behind wanting to save the poor in Africa , or research and write her book on the Pyramids in Egypt , or to go protest against the government when Wall street ate all our collective money. I don't have half the passion that these two have in their little toes , but I love them to bits . My fate was sealed the moment I kissed Nora under the tropical sun of Saint Martin 3 decades ago.... you fool you had a chance to save yourself , but no , teenage and all those hormones screwed you over my boy. And here we are ...... the wedding party is paid for , the caterers , the flowers, the wedding planner , the outfits , the hotel all done , 1 Groom all set but short of a bride." Soon as he said these words, Mr. Holloway smirked and shrugged his shoulders and also realised this was not the time to make Jay feel small , this boy had for the better part of more than a decade loved and cared for her daughter , through all of her propensity for drama and he was practically family already. Mr. Holloway couldn't always tell if Jay was really upset or just bracing himself for what was to come.

Jay looked more pale than he usually did , he was almost about to turn and walk away and then he changed his mind.He paused for a moment and then as gaily as he could he said , " Mr T. , I have loved Ira for who she is , her spirit , her mind or sometimes the absence of it , her raging fits of temper , even higher peaks of joy. I know you think I am not mature enough to handle a woman like her , but you have your way and I have mine . I mean for the love of all things sane , I don't understand how can you laugh right now. I never asked her to marry me because I knew she would ask herself if she wanted to and thats exactly what happened , she asked me to marry her....... how could I have said NO!!. Would you have , to Mrs. Holloway back in your day? We are lucky the two of us Mr T. ...... I just need to figure this one out , more than ever . I am sure this is supposed to be something she planned with the wedding in her mind ..... there have to have been hints she dropped or clues she hid . I am worried as heck but I still feel butterflies in my stomach. Am I going crazy Mr. T ??? " ...... Jay looked down right worried again .
Mr. Holloway though to himself , " His goose is cooked. I better help this poor chap." 

The Misgivings of being a Giver .....

If you open your heart, and give your all to the world around you, and for them you still seem to be just another step to the next thing, or a stroke of luck that has somehow worked in their favor, or they take it for something that YOU just had to do ..... then dont put yourself down for being around these people. You just by being there, have uplifted them, you have allowed them to see something , which they are not capable of doing for another human being.
A lot many of us, feel sometimes,that we are doing way too much and getting way less in return.... and yet a few others feel that they are only always doing things and getting , absolute zilch in return. So between these 02 groups, its most likely, that 90% of the population, isnt really going out of their way to begin with , and are just complaining (which comes oh so naturally to all of us!) about things which are not sooo big of a deal anyway. However, the people I wish to reach with this little piece , are the people, who give like it is their second nature, like they were put here to help others out, ALL the time. These are the happy strangers, or almost strangers (who'd let them go easy, they are such a prize to have in your circle of life, so start to get to know them better for keeps) who have gallantly showed you the light , on your darkest days , or have rescued you at times, when u really needed rescuing .... or have out of the big mushy heart of theirs been loving towards you, when it was hard probably even for God almighty to not smack you once and tell you that you're being impossible!

These are the sort of people , who think not once, and are miles away on their journey to be there for the ones they love... before you can say Jack Robinson! Those are the people, that I want to tell, that dont sell yourself short.... dont you , dare think that you get less back cuz you dont deserve it. It's because the rest of us , can't contain hearts as big as yours in our chests, that we somehow fall short of your expectations. Everyone of us, knows someone like you, someone who makes them feel safe , and cared for . And trust me everyone is always gushing about how lucky they were to find you . It is because of people like you, that the world hasnt crumbled and turned to ashes . It is because of people like you that there are still stories of heroes, because people can still believe in them!!
Never give up on yourself, never allow the jaded , inwardly motivated , selfish and insensitive agenda's of the less emotionally gifted people bring you down. You are a gift , and you should feel like one ..... all the time!

A Summer's Dusk .....

Those drops of dew , hanging on for all but imperishable love,
sparkling in the evening sun's last glimmer of hope.
Just as the young rose bud, curled in a bit tighter to settle in,
the drops of water decide to lay it to bed lighter n slip away.

The sky, pink ,with the last remains of what was a bright sunny day,
giving way to a most serene, lyrical dance of light on the sparsely spread clouds.
Dusk, walks in, half shy & half unsure of what it will get to see tonight,
gingerly stepping in, one foot after another, tip-toeing ever so gently n quiet.

Covered in nothing but a shimmery robe of summers grandest n best sceneries ,
bringing with it a drunken charm of promise, adventure, nervous flutters n more, this dusk.
A young man, lounging under the luxuriously lush sycamore, looks up with one eye,
admiring this work of art, unfolding before him, regarding it the sweetest of natures lullabies.

The wind, dancing to the tunes of summer, caressing every leaf, branch, flower n tree,
coming down slowly and gently , every now & then to lay a kiss on a young cheek.
Gloriously colorful , blissfully bright , effervescent & stirring up hearts everywhere, 
flirtatious, youthful, lively, smiling & beautiful like an innocent belle of sixteen, this dusk. 

Birds singing, the sea moving, the lakes n rivers sparkling in a sweet summer serenade,
smiling faces, happy & content, happiness for no shallow reasons, but just the joy of being alive ! 
The dusk of an everlasting summer romance, the adventure of a life time, the beauty of that eve,
the world coming together in natures glory n celebration, of all that will make the most jaded come to life!

When Jolted out of lifes Slumber ... How not to go back to it

There are times when ,all the everyday chores, plans, routines and the habits that we come to acquire over years of repetition and exposure to the same kind of circumstances , situations and events ..... seem to just all come together into a big ball of blur. This is when a  person , feels that they are entirely dissociated from this blur , and it doesn't relate to their life or what they feel in their heart should be their life. These are times ,which require , one thing and one thing only .... these are the times , when we need to jolt ourselves out of our state of suspended animation. The only reason we were put on this earth is and always will be , to be the very best versions of ourselves and be the happiest we can be , while we work towards that perfection.

No more Slumber

People say life is complicated, the world is a harsh place , that there are a multitude of things that "must" be done to have a life of "meaning " ..... and that in my opinion is a dangerous way of thinking , or giving into . There are more reasons than you or I could together fathom, for which the world has come to have this very acutely specific notion of , what exactly makes for a good , well lived life . School, job , money , social status , dressing a certain way .... judging those who do not fit the norm and shunning those who make choices that are not considered "normal " by the majority of us , who have chosen to borrow & absorb, the worn out, dated, passed down ideas of how one should live their life.
Sometimes , when we put in all our heart and soul into , acquiring these objects of borrowed desire  , in our pursuit of these things which are not even of after our own heart....we are lead to the mirror of our life state, by this loving universe in all its compassion. That is exactly when, we feel that we are awake finally in the longest time , and we see that  , what we have to come to surround ourselves with isnt really what we want or need.

And to make sure that you do not allow yourself to slip into this delusion , all we need to do is keep these 03 simple things in mind :

01. Love yourself : i know all of us have these things that we are very hard on ourselves about . And well I think that is frankly a bit too judgy ! life is a bit , too much to take in sometimes and every once in a while, we are allowed to drop the ball ... , so just relax and let yourself down easy. even einstein had to do a whole lotta repeat experiments .... its perfectly ok to be , you know .... YOU!

02. Be Courageous : You have to have cahones , and thats that ^_^ . Yes , be a ninja, be a samurai , be bruc lee .... be the fat one from Asterix & Obelix ...... take your pick of a real cool guy and then go ahead and be it !! Not only will you surprise yourself, you will find yourself .... feeling pretty cool about it . And the easiest way to do that , is be nice .... real real nice. It takes cahones to be nice .... and in this utterly busy world, people have forgotten to be nice ...... imagine how much positivity you would create by doing that. ... and that stuff, comes back around, so ...win win!!

03. Always have a sense of adventure : always have a sense of advenutre like Mr Gru , and sing along .... " It might seem crazy what I’m about to say,Sunshine she’s here, you can take a break, I’m a hot air balloon that could go to space, With the air, like I don’t care baby by the way"

But seriously , we need to have a sense of adventure about life's everyday little obstacles \ challenges . I always think of me, as the grand protagonist in this , opulent story .... working her way to the happily ever after , while slaying demons, monsters & other such nastiness . Just gives me that extra edge on the esp tricky days :) . You dont have to imagine a story like mine, just go find your own story or stories and use what it is that works for you. Being scared never got us to the good stuff, and we end up missing out on a adventure, so pull up them socks, suit up & be on with it ..... cuz everyone who ever did, never lived a day of regret or boredom!Find your self a goal \ dream , make an adventure of it and then just go ahead and get it !

And just those 03 things , is all one needs to remind themselves of , especially on the days that seem to have a little less light than other days .... to NOT give in , to NOT be morose & to NOT choose things that are not what make You happy.
Keep fighting the good fight !! I know I will , with every bit of my own flare
.. not borrowed!!

A Missing Shoe

He and her,  had sat in that corner over there,
two peas in a pod, two faces in crowd that didnt get lost.
Not scared to love, no sir not those two,
and they did, and did it better than most of us do.

On a bright as a beach, lovely as a peach summary day,
she with her tan and bonnet and he in his sailor cap.
sitting a mile apart but it has strange ways, our heart.
They could tell , feel one another from that distance apart.

ohh the imagery of that day, would make you swoon !
A girl of nothing and a man so well to do .. 
caught in a game as old as nature itself and exciting too.
Ohh they were meant to be, more than anyone ....those two.

A courtship of envious and opulent gestures ensued,
and she was swept off, by the charm and lure of their objectionable union.
They were young, they were fearless and not jaded by the world as we know it.
Against a thousand voices they went ahead and tied the knot.

She made him a better man ... more than he thought he could be.
And he made her feel like a goddess who had descended just for he.
No parallels could be drawn , for such was their magical story .
They were intoxicated ,like it cant be imagined by your or me.

It was a "forever", written in stone that was changed that starry night.
A meant -to- be , that had sort of decided to just pick up and walk.
A dory out by the lake in his back yard, a dinner to surprise her they say.
They went out together, laughing like always, holding eachother close.

In the morning, they dory had floated up on the sandy bank on its own.
She looked pretty, so white, so quiet ... the jasmine still fragrant in her hair.
He had turned a bit pale, his hand although still wrapped tight around her.
No breath, no signs , nothing but serenity on their faces and her missing shoe.

RAINBOWS and BLUES

When the rains come down on us,

every June I sit down and I wonder

if this is just a cycle of God's earth

or is it me who makes the sky weep.

Oh I am not self absorbed

I know the science behind it , I do.

The water from the oceans and rivers

and the sun heating up our green earth.

Then it pours down upon us from the skies,

and we rejoice for this great kindness we earned.

Plenty plain and boring that notion I find,

and hence this thought comes to mind.

Can I, just one little person of no great influence,

be the reason why the sky is sad and grey and weeps.

I have the blues you know, sometimes more than others,

and when I do I wish for a rainbow across my window.

But I have to wait, for summer and beyond, 

to see those colors that I know I so want.

And I wait, and I wait and I long for it .

Sometimes I say a little prayer too,real quiet.

No cotton candy, no polka dots, no amount of ribbons,

not Clark Gable or even James Dean bring me a smile.

Yes I'm a girl and the idea of a romance I do fancy,

but why oh why do these blues wont let me be.

And then I ask for my rainbow and I wish upon stars,

and I close my eyes and try to imagine really hard.

That my rainbow is right outside my window sill,

and when I put my hand out, its colored all blue,green and yellow.

And then when I am just about to give up,

on shaking off the blues and on my rainbow.

The calendar is through 12 pages and June is here.

The grey skies bring me this sense of joy and happiness.

And when the streets are curtained behind umbrellas,

I run out on the bridge with no rain coat or rubber boots,

in my polka dress and sneakers, jumping like a lunatic,

happy that its finally here, my rainbow of waiting for a year.

So I'd like to believe, that I had a little something, 

to do with all that color showing up in the blue sky.

Because with everything,everyone and all of that,

all I ever wanted was it to pour really hard!

A world of your own...

There are a lot of things that we see in our everyday lives that we wish we could keep with us. Either an object of desire, or of beauty, a person, a memory, or a feeling ..... there is often this need to capture, own, preserve and forever hold these instances of time in our hearts or somewhere more tangible. Where you can go back to, just like you go down to your basement, or to the attic, to pull out that old baseball glove, or that raggedy old doll, or an old photo album.... and you always know ,that the next time you want to visit them, these moments frozen in time, they will still be there. Covered in just a little bit of dust, a little bit of nostalgia, a thin layer of age.... but still there.

" Memory is a complicated thing, a relative to truth, but not its twin" -Barbara Kingsolver

The Rabbits hole!

Memory, somehow has this quality of impermanence, of wearing out, of decay if you will... that always makes me feel that submitting my thoughts, ideas, affections, wisdom to memory doesn't do justice to my desire to hold on to them. And yet, that is the only means I have to that end. There are some tricks or practices, to each their own beliefs!, out there in the world that one would think can help you hold on to  or re-visit these fleeting moments in time that you want to preserve. Hypnotism can take you right back to that instant in time, or so they say. And then there are memory tricks that you can use to keep things fresh and real in that enormous labyrinth of information that we carry around every single day, all of our lives.

Holding on.... hmmmm, I personally sometimes struggle with the idea of holding, keeping, retaining,having and harboring. It inevitably makes us sound like hoarders, collectors or worse like someone who is incomplete without the things they possess, someone who is incapable of letting go. Its a very anti climatic thought , this one I just put across, especially when we are who we are because of where we have been and is that not a function of memory? To know where we've been.  A very unromantic idea then waltzes into my head, unromantic because it thrives on practicality, logic and most definitely always on the truth.... and not a glorified, exaggerated idea of our wants, desires and dreams. And it is "wisdom"!

If we learn what there is to learn, from every experience, every encounter with another, every exchange with another being, place or thing...... wont that experience have fulfilled its purpose by way of enriching us, not in terms of the pictures, images, feelings that we carry in our heads or hearts.... but in terms of leaving us with something, that has made us learn something. Something of value, for our life, and those around us. And is that not wisdom ?

Having a dream, of a time to come or a time long gone, is a quality that is by far the greatest sanctuary that the human mind has known..... a place away from the right now, a place that has haunted us, a place that has encouraged us, that has kept us safe, or given us hope. A characteristic that is probably at the center of everything that makes us who we are.... and is in the same measure capable of bringing us to our knees, and showing us a side of ourselves which we never imagined to have existed.

I am not much of a thinker, and in that way I feel blessed, because things can come and go and I am still where I was before the event .... emotionally speaking that is. But I cant imagine how those, who dwell in this sphere of our minds, where everything exists only because it is a figment of their memory or imagination.... deal with things. And I say that only because, even though I am not a thinker, I have faced many a times, this dilemma... of not knowing where to draw the line between the real and the imaginary. It must be difficult to deal with whats outside and real, when you are not sure of what is real and not on the inside. Is'nt that cause enough for a clash between your own faculties??

Memory and imagination, I have gone ahead and added two variables to this equation! I do apologize ..... I guess, our minds have a way of revealing things to us. A journey is thus just with one constant, the starting point..... where you will go, well that still remains a function of the actions, the course you take as you journey on. Choosing to stay with what is real, what is enriching, what is in fact a safe flight from our plain of reality and back ..... that is a choice, a question, a journey and for some a struggle.

Here is to the adventurous who journeyed just so far and brought back with them wisdom or stories, the frequent flyers who take leave to that land often and come back safe, the brave who made it far beyond and back and especially to the weak ones we lost to the other side. Where are you drawing the line ?

Just another Story... untold!

  
And then there was no more left , other than what she saw in her room.... an almost empty bottle of rum, a half burnt cigarette  lying no more than a foot away from her and about twenty cigarette butts in the ashtray, her clothes on the floor.... an open closet which was so full of color.... that she felt repulsed by it. She got up, wobbly on her feet and walked till the mirror.... what she saw, should have shocked her, scared her, shaken her..... but all she felt was .... pity or may be it was nothing at all. Her neat little bun was undone and made her look like a deranged killer straight out of a bad movie, her mascara had left stains on her cheeks and her face, there were traces of a bright pink shade of lipstick on her lips, which were dry.... as dry as a dead,withered leaf , fallen from a tree in the dead of autumn...... she stood there in her black Chemise, one bright yellow stiletto on her foot, the other one she couldn't even be bothered to go look for. In fact, she could not be less bothered about life at all . Another Friday night had come and gone by and she had drunk till thy kingdom come, till all her senses had deserted her and she had left for a place of.... not knowing, not comprehending, where they did'nt have a place...her senses that is, a place where she did not have to use her head at all.
Another Friday evening that she had wanted to go home and sort out the storm that would hit her every Friday afternoon..... and like every other Friday since the last one year, she had ended up... going about town, with friends, co-workers, acquaintances or whoever would care to give her company .... drinking , dancing, coming back home, drinking more and passing out.

Still staring at the wreck she saw in the mirror, she felt she was looking at someone else..... anyone else but her, she was the prim and proper mumma's little girl.... who always combed her hair back, always tied them in a neat high pony, wore light pink dresses, light yellows or some other plain Jane, good girl shade. Someone who never raised her voice, someone who never spoke ill of anyone, someone who trusted blindly, someone who believed that life was going to be just wonderful. And here she was, a wreck, a quitter, a raging alcoholic, a nicotine junkie, anorexic, poor lonely girl ..... with clothes piled up till the roof in her house, shoes bursting out of her closet, no money in the bank, and a foul smell from the smoke that emanated from a burnt out dream in her heart... that refused to leave her.

"When did I get this jaded?" ... she thought to herself, " When did I give up on hope? When did I stop smiling? When did this life turn into this.... this, lonesome, unhappy, miserable mess ?" .... even though she was saying the questions out loud, she didn't want to think of the answer.... so much so that she turned around and walked into her bathroom.


About an hour long shower later, she stepped out, made herself some coffee, popped a few aspirins to rid her off the throbbing she could feel in her head..... "Sigh!! another hangover." , she said to herself.
She finished her coffee, put on a pair of khaki's a white shirt..... and it was hard to find, in that wardrobe , which she had stocked with bright bold colors of all kind, to hide the lack of them in her life behind. She picked up her handbag,her camera and walked out of the house .

It was a bright day outside, it was a wonderfully lovely spring morning. She was glad that she could still smile with the sun, at the sun, for the sun..... even as a little girl, she had thought that, the great big ball of fire in the sky was a friend, and she knew from then on she was always going to be a happy sunshine , morning girl. Lost in her thoughts she walked through the San Francisco Bay area Flea market ..... like every Saturday morning. She loved that flea market, all the used things she felt had a story to tell..... a story of who they use to belong to , of a love that no longer lived or at least of a love that had gone far away for some reason. She felt that she belonged there, just like all those things, given up by people, who no longer wanted them, or no longer could keep them .... and behind each one of them was a story..... just like her.And she loved capturing those sundry things on her camera.

Walking around, she walked to the cozy little cafe that she had made her second home for those first few lonely months in San Francisco. Jane the nice old woman who owned the cafe, was her mother away from home, the one person who she trusted blindly , with her life, her money, her dog ..Sharpie, and everything else she held sacred. She walked in, and Jane was more than happy to see her, and with one look Jane could tell that She had been drinking again!... "You better stop feeding all that alcohol and nicotine to that thin little body of yours..... you are so young, so beautiful, your whole life ahead of you.... and to think you haven't even fallen in love yet! When I was a young girl in New York, men would lie down on the street for a woman like you..." , " Oh Fran! please dont... not today! I know you love me, and you worry about me.But you don't have to try to get me to quit my life.. that is who I am. But I love you !" ..... She cut Jane off , before Jane could finish her song about, how New York was the place to be in the 70's and how She was not realizing what she was doing to herself...... She gave Jane a hug, and a peck on her cheek ... and Jane shook her head in exasperation, and asked her to sit down and went into the kitchen to make her a coffee.

She took the coffee from Jane, and told her she was going to go out for a walk and come back after an hour or so and they would have lunch together. This was her routine every Saturday. She loved the day, loved spending it with Jane and the people at the Cafe. As she walked out the door, Fran.... that is what She called Jane, because for her, Jane was San Francisco, for no one else in the city meant more to her,... glanced over her shoulder, just like a mother, looks at her child before she leaves the house.

She had barely walked a few feet from the cafe, looking at the clouds in the sky... she bumped into someone and spilled her coffee all over herself. Not seeing who or what it was, She yelled out, "Ohh my God!! would it kill you to look where you're going.... that's a 200$ Chanel shirt that you just ruined!!".... when she looked up, she saw who she had bumped into..... and she froze , her feet suddenly felt like they were made of stone, she could'nt breathe..... she wanted to scream, but her lungs failed her.

Jezebel

               ~ Jezebel ~

                                                                     

Jezebel the regina and the life of the party!!   
Cocktails, outfits and pricey fanfare.
Jezebel the woman of grandeur and luxury,
her lovelorn eyes, deep as a lake laced with misery.

Jezebel ..the debutante who every woman envied,
who's tiniest whim was her fathers pride.
She with fancies of real substance and taste,
with etiquette fit for a queen and heart of a renegade!

Henry says ,"O poor Jezebel was a lonely child",
she missed her father after her mother died.
With money filling in for the father who was overseas,
and dime a dozen nannies who tried to raise her in between.

O poor Jezebel, was given all she ever asked,
yet nothing that of love, nurturing and family.
Jezebel was lost in dreams of what one day may be,
when true love would be her prize instead of money!

"O Da'hling Jezebel you're 21" they roared,
and Champagne Framboise like the rain poured.
Jezebel was lost amidst the crowd she had gathered,
turning 21 one in that hazy summer all alone must'v hurt her.

Jezebel the young girl.... so lost and confused,
it was easy to mistake the courtesy of a nice man for love.
With her heart broken and her soul torn to pieces,
Jezebel decided to end her pain she must flee to Paris!

That seat of love, art, Hemmingway and possibility,
"j'aime Paris !!" said Jezebel on her first night in the city.
The written word was sanctuary from a life of make believe.
She poured her pain into stories that had made her heart bleed.

Living like a romantic, fancy-free ruined her plenty,
Drinking Daiquiris and Rum till the bar was empty.
"O Jezebel ... mon amie!, please dont do this !!",
no matter how hard he tried ,she wont ever listen .

He had found her, loved her and in Paris cared for her .
A broken heart could not love again ... . poor Jezebel!!
It ached her to see him, want her with such passion.
It was too late, for love, for him ... for my Jezebel !

 

A Drifter......

Ohh mama please dont cry, i am a drifter,
let go mama and i will come back home to you.
I cant stay, I must not for i have no roots here,
I dont ever want to belong to anyone or anywhere.

I am your baby mama, no matter where i go,
you taught me well mama, but i need to be set free.
Is this world  full of all the things that they say,
stories you read to me, and stories my friends shared.

I want to be the girl who went out into the world by herself,
I want to find that one thing that makes this circus tick.
Dont you worry mama, there is good in this world still,
I will get by mama, dont you please fear for your baby girl.

I will write to you mama of the faces and places that i see,
I will get you souvenirs from Woodstock and Auchwitz city.
I will bring home a piece of history to you so dont you cry,
I am leaving only to come back mama, this isnt  goodbye.

Tell my friends that I love them but I have to leave them too,
I am a free soul a drifter mama, please dont make me stay .
I cant be here mama for my spirit seeks to soar and it must,
I want to see the world mama before they bring it to dust.

Death of a Love!

Oh dear love of mine, so lost and so far,
that moment from long ago, do you remember?
When there was you and me and that was all.
Never seperate, never alone,wet with love you and I.


That ocean we dreamed of and yearned for ,that dream of you and I,
how we longed for the world to melt away with all its puzzles.
I used to wish I was everything that you had imagined,in your dreams of me,
I remember you said, if something meant more than life to you, it was me.

Too good to be true, too promising for fate to give a miss,
or was it us, was it me and now we blame fate for things that hurt.
It doesnt matter what word I choose, or can think of today.
For today I grieve the death of that love, a love that I had dearly loved.

Its only words, and I wont burden them with the weight,
the weight of my heart's sorrow, for they will just break.
My soul tells me, its over, for another has taken your place,
where I had left you I see a changed man... a new face.

I wasnt there, no I did not let you have me, I left and walked on,
for every two steps you took, I stepped away by even more.
But I had to, when you saw there was every reason for me not to.
In my mind there was, one reason, that kept me from falling ... for you.

I was with you, for you and completely sure that I wanted you,
but signs, these signs that I could not ignore, and I had to leave.
Luck favors the brave, and I wasnt, you wanted me there and I wasnt.
And today I grieve the death of a love that I with all my heart had loved!

No one will see that I was there with you, yes i was.
You do not see that I was there right next to you , I was love.
Whether I be back, or not, it doesnt matter any more to no one,for you changed.
There is no one to grieve with me, the death of the love that I still Love!

We never needed this

When the world was still just a baby girl,
when the stars were naughty little boys,
when the moon was not so bright in the sky,
and the sun was not more than a giant torchlight.

Even in those days beyond time, from long ago,
there was a plan or some scheme for all to go by.
No calendars, no timekeepers and yet all went just right so.
The forces to be knew exactly what they had to do.

Today with all the brains and intellect to go,
and even with all the dense contraptions of science.
When man is marvelled as the greatest creation of god,
there is no order to the madness that ensues.

Simple they say, is where god choses to reside,
and yet more convoluted are the methods we choose.
A facade really of the most inconceivably thorny design,
has been in the making layer by layer for the longest time.

We see, we judge, we think and we do,
what we think is expected in this world of two.
The actor and the stage, is all that really remains.
no substance, no consciousness, a mask and nothing plain.

A train to ...........

Everyday i take that train from the same place,
the train that takes me, takes me nowhere at all.
That train that is full of strangers, young and old alike.
with people who stare out of the windows .... waiting.

I board the train everyday,carrying a renewed hope within,
imagining of the places that this train might take me to.
This train I hope, will bring to me one day may be a friend,
and yet with strangers,on this train to somwhere, there is none.

Sitting by the window,everyday i look out to the world,
at the buildings, the same ones everyday, hoping to see,
a pretty face, in one of the windows looking out at me.
And yet the train to nowhere brings me absolutely nobody.

I look out at the sky, the rays of the sun having fun,
dancing on the clouds,refusing to give way to the night.
I hope that some day these clouds will want to ask me why,
do i take this train to nowhere and i know what will i say.

I look out to the mountains,thinking that they might know,
if anyone ever on this train got somewhere they wanted to.
But the anchored giants just look at me so blank and stare,
they are in on the secret,with this train to somewhere but just wont share.

Everyday i look forward to getting on this train to who knows where,
hoping to see new people on the train, and giving them a scare.
The new ones are hopeful you see, its is their first time here,

to tell them is my job i feel that this train is going absolutely nowhere!

The Coffee Jar Story

Mornings were such a bitter sweet thing to her ever since she could remember,

satin sheets,pillows and a persistent ray of the sun peeking thorugh the blinds.

Looking out at the sun,sky scrapers,listening to the sounds of a city waking up,

Still under-covers she wondered "what would he be doing..picking sunflowers" she hoped.

   The warm smell of cocoa enveloped  her skyhigh 25th floor appartment,

   The feeling of another day that had come in through the window quietly.

    Dressed in her loose white gown,she walked to the kitchen and stretched,

   picking up the beautiful coffee jar that sat on top of the empty cabinets.

A Coffee jar that meant more, more than just a container with coffee, to her,

the porcelain jar from the streets of Tuscany, from a travel of 02 years ago.

A coffee jar picked up from a local store run by the handsome Adalberto,

reminded her of the beautiful city of towers named San Gimignano in Tuscany.

  Mornings became more beautiful to her after her unforgettable stay in Tuscany,

  After her run in with love,careless love,one of no obligation with an Italian man.

  Adalberto was her friend, her guide,her love in the breathtaking beauty of Italy.

  They crossed paths,when the summer had added an extra glow to nature and the old city.

Magical nights, out by the Lake Como,romantic dinners by the vineyard under clear skies,

He would love her, just right,not holding on too tight, she thought if she wanted that really?

It didnt matter, because this was a pit stop and then it would soon be LA Calling after  her

15 days,15 nights and 02 years later, the coffee jar still reminded her of mornings with him.

  Every sip of her coffee would remind her of how he everyday brought her toasts n marmalade,

  in bed,on a tray with sunflowers ..for he said she was like sunshine to him all day everyday.

  And it was love for those 15 days,till one night from Platform five at Chiusi station she left,

  Adalberto stood there and waved goodbye, all she took was the coffee jar to remember him by.

This morning in the shower she felt that it was time,she packed her bags and took off to see,

if that love was real and meant anything at all, and if he thought of her all the time, like she.

She slipped into her clothes,packed a knapsack with clothes and diary, she paused to breathe,

and told her heart to take it easy,as she ran out the door in a hurry she gave one last look to the jar.

And then there was one .....

There were too many things on her mind when her head hit the pillow this night. She wasnt used to thinking so much, not for this...not for anything. She had never thought in a million years that Tristan would leave her and just go away from her life. She didnt know what was this feeling that her heart was experiencing right now, she knew it wasnt a good feeling because she felt like there was'nt any strength in her lungs to even breathe.

Tristan, the boy she met in college, the guy who everyone loved for being such an open hearted soul. The boy who had told her once that she was like his little angel, in this world filled with cruel things and lacking in magic. Tristan the boy who had once said that he would devote his life to her.. ... Tristan, the boy who was the reason why she was the way she was today, a head strong, confident girl ..... a shy little creature from Milwaukee, who had been transformed into an artist known for her edge, for her words that gave many hope and many others something to think about, a columnist with the New York Times. She had made her mark in this world, she had shown everyone who ever doubted her coy and shy self... that she was someone who mattered,someone whose opinion mattered. And yet all of it didnt matter, for Tristan was gone!
   Tristan, had been with her, her companion for 06 years now... they had been through so much together, from the perils of growing up to the perils of being NewYorkers..... Eva had , had Tristan by her side. He loved her like no one could love her, he had even left his family behind in DC to be with her. She was his world and he was hers. At least till she moved to New York, Tristan was all Eva cared for.
But then the dazzle, high life and the social circles of New York changed Eva, she wanted more...more of evrything. More money, more clothes, bigger apartment and a bigger car. Tristan was doing mediocre by Eva's high standards, for he was a struggling musician who was surviving by making music for games, obscure infomercials...... nothing glamourous.
Eva ..... the girl who grew up believing that Love was all that was necessary to keep one alive, had forgotten about what really mattered. She thought of all this and looked at the man who lay next to her ...... on the bed that was Tristan's, there lay John, her colleague..... who had all the things going for him, that Tristan had failed to deliver on.
  Eva felt disgusted with herself, she got up from her bed, she rather jumped off it..... she ran to the balcony and started looking at the railings, feeling them with her fingers..... and there it was , a little piece of metal shining through the black paint on the iron..... in the shape of a heart. Tristan had done that one evening, when they lay in the balcony nestled in each other's arms..... telling Eva that this was a piece of him...... a piece of his hear that he had put on the balcony, for Eva..... so that whenever she missed him, every time he went away for auditions..... she could run to it.... hold it and see it, and know that he was thinking of her too. "This heart...." , Tristan had said, "... willl keep u safe my Pixie... it will keep you from harm, when i am not by your side. Always remember, I will be gone only to come back.... to you, for you are my piece of heaven in this world!"

Eva sobbed and sobbed sitting with her head against the railing, looking up at the sky.... looking at the stars, and she cried more, for Tristan had once said to her , " These little specs of light in the sky... my darling, are for you.... you're scared of the dark, so god put them there for you to know, that even in the dark, there is light !! ". Eva knew she had no where to run, Tristan was all that there was to her happiness or the lack of it and she was the grandest fool of this world for having let go of him!!
      She had nothing to feel alive about, she had nothing in her that could make her live life without him. And she knew that even the God almighty would not be able to fill the hole in her heart, that Tristan had caused, when he left. And then she thought, "Funnily, if this were a movie, I would hate myself too!!".

Hindi Movie Songs.... retro cheese!!

I love hindi songs from the 90's and before!! These songs are so appropriate in their execution to very many situations life....only! they're a 180" opposite off it,... and at their cheesy best :). Best to get a laugh in any situation  :). Sadly they dont make songs like that any more. But hey no sweat we have decades worth of cheese ageing it's8 way to sumptuous, juicy and delicious humuor.!!
  In todays day when the youth (like me :P ) diss the hindi music for the pity inducing lack of cool....... in comparsion with the uber cool music from the west, this music from old-bollywood times brings forth a very comforting sense of respect for the predecessor to this generation of very average actors and musicians!!!!!
Cant imagine how i never realised the importance of hindi music for purposes of lightening the mood, or pushing it to extremely funny levels!!! very sad for those who donot know hindi and the movie scene throughout the ages in bollywood history.ON  a parting note, form the extremely non-sensical conversation about nothing... here is a video for a hindi song in support of the theory that I NEVER PRESENTED ...husshhhh, lies here *winks*  ..............................................................
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Hiu6tnhvg8&feature=related

They Think they can find me

Those people in the street across from the cafe, 02 men and a woman staring at me, think they can get to me. The men one burly, the other very shapely and lean and the woman with eyes like a placid lake have been looking at me for too long. I am barely able to bring my coffee cup to my lips without my wrist making a challenge of it. He hasnt noticed anything in me, that has been trigerred from the presence across the road. He has been sitting there laughing about his stories from work. I try to pay attention to what he is saying about his ex girlfriend who is now working in his office. I am his girlfriend, i should be paying attention, but i cant those 03 people out there are making me so nervous, one ciggeratte after another and yet i feel nothing.

He has been holding my hand on the table all this while, may be thats why i am still awake, conscious and present.... he wont let me go, I look at his fingers, strong and shaped alike, like they were made in a factory ... a factory that makes beautiful hands and fingers. He must get it from his mother, gosh they are all so beautiful in his family. I never thought he would fall for me, not once. ME!! ouch.... that must hurt, to be my boyfriend. He is so mature, handsome, accomplished and smart and well dressed. He is everything i thought the movie stars are, when i was young.