The Chart of A Climax

Scorn not my lines, give me some time to design!

Why do always the CLIMAX in Novels
Looks enticing?
Why do a CLIMAX in other people’s life,
evolves curiosity in our bones?
Why the hard questions raised by TIME,
In our life,
Seems like embracing the BATTLE?
Why the fear of loosing everything
discards us, and makes
Our Evenings exhaustive,
Coffee in Coffee Mug☕ insipid?
Why ‘Ignorance’ by the people,
Deserts the so called ‘Closeness’
Breathing in between
Them and Me,
And brings tumult to our Soul?
Why, while criticizing others
“Ampersand” becomes
Our index of delight?
Why do Harsh Words by a MAN,
Suddenly nip a Woman to Silence?
Why the term ‘Housewife’ still
Decipher it as a QUIXOTE,
In Tagore’s and Gandhi’s India?
Why do the Girls
Should always paint
The word ‘TEHZEEB’ in their overalls?
Why can’t every MAN read
Nasreen’s, Sidhwa’s, and Monica Ali’s Novels?

Scorn not the ‘Whys’ in the Lines,
It’s just a Tale from my heart
Which got designed,
In the form of serpentine lines…

I don’t know Whyyy?
But stopping my ‘Whys’
Will stop the ‘Climax,’
And, could otherwise stop
My interest in Life!

So, turn the page of your life,
And, here’s your Climax waiting for you! ☺

//Those were the Past Old Days…//

“In 1970, Baba took a break from the construction of the orphanage and flew to Tehran for a month to watch the world cup games on television, since at the time Afghanistan didn’t have TVs yet! – Amir told us.”

So, from this line Amir (Khaled Hosseini’s Character from “The Kite Runner”) introduced us His Father, and which otherwise vaporized my thoughts transforming itself into the chain of memories, I lived long years back.

When the four major Seasons taught us how to actually live the Life at it’s utmost.

When Summer used to bring the Cone of Ice – Creams and depart us on another Station namely ‘The Winter.’ And this icy cool, numbingly beautiful season used to enter with an alarm to ooze out the Sweaters and Mufflers off the Boxes. Now, the ‘New December’ and the December nights lack the core of ‘Old December and it’s nights’. When the Radio sound approached the ears and embarked the day’s early hours, along with the snow pattering on the window panes, with the blankets pulled more gravely to the chin ignoring all the noises of the Elders in the house trying hard to wake us up.

When my mind was far away from all the Angles of Stressful Life and it’s consequences.

When even Summer used to slip in our lives just like The Ice which swings down in the glass of “Rooh Afza”, and dooms slowly and drowsily in the Sharbat! When the Night was like a Lover under the sheet of that black sky with a tint of blue into it actually communicated with gestures of the Stars, twinkling, glittering and gazing as if to only one person, that is ‘Me’ and the pair of my eyes glinting in return. When a single Hand – Pump in the ‘Kothi’ (Mansion) worked enormously and ecstatically that we the lil ones in the house wrestled with to bring the water out of it at any cost. When the running footsteps all around the Kothi pounded the Mansion and playing ‘Pakdam- Pakdai’ (Rat-a-Tat) was all that we loved. When Baba appeared in the doorway to go to the Vegetable Market, and all the ‘Baccha Party’ (Gang of Children) in the house tried hard to convince Baba to take one of his Dearest along with him to The Vegetable -Market. When the Guests stuffed our pockets with the Toffees and Candies. When shuffling from one room to another and to get the Baba’s Easy-Chair red handed, which once looked like ‘The Line of Control’ and the only hours when I was able to find the chair human less were the Noon hours acting like ‘No Man’s Land’ to me. So, I could sit and enjoy the Easy -chair as much as I wanted. When the Air – Conditioners could have lacked behind because of the free Cool and Crispy wind blowing and swaying all around the Kothi just like the free Bird!

And, the interesting fact is that the Kothi’s each and every room was named after the person living in it, exceptions were the Kitchen named as “Chauka” and the Hall named as “Hall Kamra!”
Let me tell you, that ‘Hall Kamra’ was used to be the big, wide room in which usually all the members of the house used to come in and talk, drink Tea, along with the TV in the evening hours of the day which adjusted itself in the mid of the ‘Hall Kamra’ as the King of the house in the entire Mansion with Baba acting as it’s “Wazir” with the Remote in his hands! I still wonder briefly sometimes, why did i give so much prominence to that Remote. Believe me, if that would be the “Insta Age” I would have given the “#Remote” to that pygmy Remote!
In those Summers and the Three more Seasons, I poured something of me! As the great poet, Alfred Lord Tennyson said:

I am the part of all I have met…”

As, Keats said:

Heard melodies are sweet but those unheard are sweeter.”

This line actually settles comfortably deep down in my past. Letting Memories wrap it’s arms around my shoulders, for a brief insane moment, make me glad and happy every time, and add to my smile, broaden it whence I talk of them.

CHRISTMAS IN SUMMER TIME!

Morning smiles
Replacing Night
streaks of light
if Christmas falls in summer, it’s alright!

Strings of light
shining bright
on that greeny greeny X-mas Tree.
For some it’s like Petrarch’s hopeless Love poetry,
and for some Donne’s poetry for the two souls!
For some it’s like been married to Catastrophe,
and for some it’s Jingle Jingle all the way!

Mamma mia! no snow flakes,
but still there’s mouth-watering plum cakes,
to devour, and wine to take,
with Jesus blessings, and Christmas crib to make!

All this starts with a drowning sun
gifting more streaks
of golden radiance
to the flamboyant night!

Oh! look who’s there,
sitting in an open sleigh,
transforming the earth
to speak more of Love,
to dance like doves,
to hold each other’s hands;
One’s hand on the Shoulder
and other’s on the waist
like the wind do with the birds
on the tunes of
Ellie Goulding’s song,
“How Long Will I Love You!”

Sailing by
the charismatic smiles
onto the lovers lips,
painted a hue of golden chic
on that warm summer sky,
Santa went away
with Ten Reindeers;
surrendering that yonder moon
to never end the feeling
of love and happiness,
in the hearts
of Elizabeth-Darcy,
Jane-Rochester,
Catherine-Frederick,
and the peak of all;
Romeo and her Juliet!

Aroma


It wraps me into a thick
Cloak of affinity
More it prick
whenever it passes
through my veins, but all falls in latinity!



You know
I just finished my only cigarette
but this smoke of ciggy still numb my toe,
building more and more clouds of threat
around me.




Then i walked around the road
which squeezed more aromas to load
in me, giving constant reminder
of something you lent those roads to grind.




At the very instant, i felt my heart beat
throbbing underneath my heart’s sheet
Oh! i am crossing Sandwich store
that aroma of ‘Tuna’, with letters counting four
shaking my beats more
because you poured
something of yours even into this four lettered, which floored
the ‘I’ in me.




I opened a door
by waging a little war,
inbetween the coins and a key
the battle spree
ended, and i get the key.




(Oh! i am standing right in front of Our flat, sorry My flat.)




Flat Number Twenty Eight
Yesss! where you with your ‘Latte’ used to wait,
the only coffee you taught to my memory,
is fading as If I was in reverie!




Through all the years
we lived together
I was hell bent to make our love bloom, but
you were cleverly filling the things
around me, from the ‘Blanket‘ to the
‘Bru’, with your ring of aromas!!




Oh! please take your Shield of Achilles, made from your aromas
to shield me anymore!




Come on! let’s just stop
the pandemonium of aromas,
clinging hard with each other.
But here, bidding adieu with a last thanks to you
for gifting me Rhymes, syllables,
metaphors, similes
to fill the aromas
of my sweet sonnets and poetries!!!




(I hope it would make me feel better.)

The Castle

A glass castle
castle unlike the castle of
Elsa, the Snow Queen;
but one where Night,the Princess waits
for Day,the Prince!
where the darkness in her
loves the dawn in him,
where the Day writes the ‘Prologue’
and the Night speaks of ‘Epilogue’!

Oh!My lord
so here comes the winter
on this green and blue earth
so reduce thy working hours,
put your sword into its sheath
and let me pour the treasures
of we,the star-crossed lovers
to draw the best of constellations,
as the eve of Christmas is arriving
and tonight i will
gift you the woollen
which i sewed
throughout summers,
with these refined hands
of mine
when you were not in the castle
with my love poems
Only for thee!

and here it is!

A  Letter from Desdemona to the person whom she loved the most, Othello, the Moor:

My Lord! I remember the first time i saw you was from the place where your eyes scanned me not, but i gifted my ears to thee, since the day they(my ears) had thy voice. I was a complete mess and you resolved my knots just as you resolved the Duke’s fear for Turks. You cared everyone around you and the same you managed for me. The nights were longer than i imagined, when you left me to win the Turks, not even Heaven would have imagined that EROS (the Greek God of Love) had already decided our fate to part, but I never had thought that the end will be so brutal and harsh. My head moved against my estimation, Iago sliced up the hearts of two of us, and you, yes you, My Lord! You gifted him (Iago) the costliest Knife to make the best of slices of our hearts of heart. You hadn’t even lent me a clock in my hand, as you gifted me thy precious Handkerchief, to clear and resolve the knots which your Ancient,Iago tightened so hard in between us. The tricks which thy Ancient played, still cries in my head and lists hundredth of questions to ask. You lent me so little time to at least pour my heart out into the three words “I LOVE YOU!”

This is not a past and gone incident that you killed your chuck,Desdemona. Even the Cupid felt as if you stole his prosperous arrow. You obeyed the time before our wedding, took care of everything that pertained to me and made me to be fearless in thy love, but i can assert now that ‘Weddings cause havoc in between the souls’ and this wedding thing might have misunderstood my love for you. You switched on your reliance for IAGO, and switched off thy heart to listen to your own strings of mind. Cooked thy own pandemonium around you, with which you was unable to get rid off and got transformed into a character,which was completely unknown to me. A character completely designed by that brutal Iago!

You were not You,when you killed me. Though you killed me, but my heart was still beating inside yours and i heard the last words you said to me:
“I kiss’d thee ere I kill’d thee: no way but this; killing myself,to die upon a kiss.”

Though people made you a wide known Tragic Hero, but you arrested my senses and still i feel so much captivated by the charm of yours. For me you are not a man of tragedy, but the man who loved me the most, and your last kiss which you pursed on my lips, let me tell you they are as you gifted it to my lips, as fresh and pure as our love.

Do you know My Lord! DEVDAS said to PARO once:
“Mohabbat bhi zindagi ki tarah hoti hai, har mod aasaan nahin hota, har mod par khushi nahin milti, par jab hum zindagi ka saath nahin chhorte, to mohabbat ka saath kyon chhorein.”
But you did just the opposite of what DEVDAS said. I was in awe of your warrior spirit but even this great warrior felt defeated by LOVE and lost his life for his Love!



//An Orchestra of The Early Morning//

One day, I started the Vespa,
That very Italian one,
To reach to the place
Where the Orchestra was being played;
Truffles began to dance
Altogether like a Bee,
Following my Yellow Vespa!

Gold complexioned,
Luminous, sparkling, scarlet Hairs,
Mysterious Eyes of Heaven;
Closing the farewells
That were sad,
Lingered over me,
Just like the Betaal over Vikram,
To brag about Him (the early morning)
Making me to wander,
To stroll through his boulevard,
Serving the lyrical voices,
On the dishes
To reach the darling buds of my ears,
Slowly and steadily,
Trimming my bag of bones!

Then entered the Cold,
Breezy Wind, with the call of Trumpets,
On the Coral Carpet,
In fineries
Of a beautiful Damsel,
As if asking me,
” Magic mirror on the wall,
Who is the fairest of all?”
Carrying fragrances
Of Frangipani, Hibiscus and Mogra,
With a whispering “Boucle d’ Orielle”
Draping intimacy with the environment,
Like those whirling Dervish do!

Oh! The Orchestra
Of Early morning,
So beautiful are the words,
You drip out of your mouth,
Every day.
The Silver in you makes me to fall in love with you,
And the Gold in you,
Makes you even more costlier,
And pushes me into your employ,
To dream more and more of you!

So, thinking of becoming a Goon,
If could not purchase you,
Why not to become a Pirate!!

Once upon a time…

Sometime things happen to us at so quick pace just as the waves in the ocean succeeds one another so rapidly that you can’t even find a way to stole a moment from those implacable moments of utter felicity! And your wheels of heart wishes to hold them as tight as you can so as to not leave your lap of fertile happiness! Though we all know it’s way hard to get our souls out of the dark and toxic influences of the life !

.
She was in her life of extravaganza and was expecting nothing, not even a pinch of love from her family, friends, cousins! All that she loved and was still loving, was nonetheless but the books, novels and her personal diary, in which she revealed the thoughts which were hard to conceal even during the hide and seek plan. They were digged so deep into those pages of ruled line that it was very hard to remove the curtains from them.

There is a saying that when you do not expect “Jin” to come out from the “Aladdin’s Chirag“, it’s just the time when it suddenly emerges and presents him infront of you with folded hands ready to serve you addressing “Ji Aaka!” no one but to you. Huff! Huff! Jini why always you???

.
So, as i already told you that Gin arrived at my door, and sent a guy all the sudden throughout a long run of my life! I was not expecting him. Yes, i was not actually expecting him. I, so much confined in my area , letting no one to enter into my restricted boundaries, but somewhere my inner sense of sight want him to reveal the lines in my ruled diary!

The meeting was altogether normal for me! But the same was not for him. Just like all other similar days of normality, i made an urge to clean the scars, negativities from my so called life. After spending some peaceful time in the library, felt a genuine warmth and came out and it’s just then when i met him! We both were strangers to each other. We both exchange the words!

.

You all would be thinking of that how we actually met? So without elaborating much, let me tell you it was via a friend of mine!

.

So, i, as in usual days; my memory at that very time of the clock too, was so much inhaled with books and novels, that i thought of better to start the conversation with the aforementioned! To my utter astonishment, he too was the bookaholic, which i basically loved about him! After a time when there was nothing left to speak about, we started to pull the chains of our one and only common friend, and it all ended with a Tea and some sneaky laughs! It’s actually very difficult to explore a person on just one meeting over a tea. We three drove towards our destinations which my friend decided to accomplish, the task of dropping, via her scooty and dropped me, at the very first to my destination. I made a hug to my friend and put forth my hand for the hand-shake towards the guy, which he too answered positively! Though, i should say that i, on that day, found a guy, who actually love books, love scribbling and that too in a miraculous way!…

After that, i again wore up the sillitoe shoe of my life, to again walk with the same pace, i was doing some hours ago!

One day followed another and the time moved on slowly till upto the day when some sentences popped up at my cellphone which i checked,it was none but he; who texted me up! I saw the message, which was all about to inform me for the upcoming examination of one of the prominent Universities of India. And i replied with a gentle word that is, ” Thank You!”

.

During my conversation with him, i discovered that, he is actually an excellent writer, indeed a poet! I felt so much intent and charmed with his scribbled lines, that i wanted him to write everyday some lines of vibrant vitality to just make my mind fresh and calm with the consumption of them. He ministered the lines, so gloriously and luxuriously which always make my heart to pluck the rooted sorrows from it and throw it away with the use of those antidote’s of lines! You could guess now, that nothing mere lies in him!

I was basically in search of you my Writer friend to whom i could speak and spell my words of heart out!!

When…

Today my Mother showed me up a Book, a holy book i must say. And it was of the time when my Grandfather was swinging on his youthful life! The Book is none other than “The Ramcharitmanas!” As, i could only recall the vague impressions, which are actually very few in numbers that relates to him, spent with me, but it packs a lot of history in themselves.
The remembrance of him, came to me at the very sudden, when my eyes focused it’s sight over the 3 words, written by him just above the Preface column of the page, and that too describes his name!

The blurred images captures me, every time I try to go past the years; i have spent with him. The age, i was in, during his time of last breath, was five years, since of which, i store only few or i should say very few memories to combine them all, hardly even to make a morsel of them!

All I know about him, is that He was truly dedicated to his book-reading! He was a bookaholic. He not only tried or read Hindi novels or journals but tasted English fictions too.

When i was too small to even think of books and book reading, and what books are, and what books actually gifts us, and what they dwell for us in the long run of life; my elder sister while we were at our ancestral home, which falls, some distance before ‘Shravasti’, as she too is a book-worm, took out a book from the two Biggy wooden shelves, which remained generally locked up to sustain them from dust and dirt, a book of a famous writer, i.e., of LEO TOLSTOY, and the subject of it was, at that time, beyond our understanding but she kept it safely in her personal shelf, for reading it forth, by the time, we acquire enough ‘ perfect ‘ memory so as to understand the great and legendary Leo Tolstoy!

The book was so ruined up, upto the time, because it had travelled for so many seconds,minutes and hours,that it reached to a place where no one can reach but minds playing in millions, billions, and trillions of imaginative and colloquial thoughts;which only bookworms could understand, how a rotten and ruined up book increases contours of it’s pages with time!
As insofar there’s a saying – “Old is Gold!”
There’s a saying too, which is knocking up my door of ideas, right now and that too by Cicero, and here goes the jewels of words thrown by him –
“A Room without Books is like a body without a soul.”
Don’t you agree with the lines,mentioned above???
But this is what, my soul and heart, truly believes in.

The pages of a book saves not only the prints being printed by the typist or a writing being written by a writer, but also secures some valuable and precious parts left by it’s Readers. It treasures up a lot of reminiscences from the side of Readers.

Collection of leaves used as a bookmarks being found inbetween the pages, those dried up petals of roses, says Nothing but Everything!❤️ Those scribblings too, which a reader pens down on it’s pages during the hours of his reading , and it had been coming since ages, passing the lamp of Eternal Memories, stored up in those pages; locked up with keys nowhere to get, with a musty essence in them, to set a bed on,and to sleep for long lasting hours, in those old and ruined up pages!

Trust me, you will never feel the need to get out of that “Room of One’s Own!”

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