A handful of thoughts

A sudden shriek - Aye Ladki!!! stirred everyone of the quiet office floor. Every eye followed its source. It had come from Ms B’s table. A closer look revealed the reason behind the noise. Ms B’s close aide and confidante, Ms A was standing still with a terrified look on her face - the kind of look one has after spilling ketchup on mom’s saree and couldn’t decide upon whether she should laugh out loud, apologize to Ms B or return to her seat. The fact of the matter was like this:

Ms B’s latest obsession is the DX Ball. Its one of those silly games the corporates spend most of their time on when they are not working or buttering up their bosses. Anyways, In DX Ball Ms B has to break brick walls with the help of a ball bouncing on a lever. One glance off her monitor or one flip of the fingers off her mouse means the ball will miss the lever and fall into the endless virtual chasms of uncertainty, causing her to lose a life (virtual). To her misfortune, Ms A had wanted to give a file to Ms B, and absolutely unintentionally landed it on Ms B’s mouse.

After that brief sharp shriek, Ms B again returned to her game. Before the ball and lever game happened to her, Ms B had concentrated on a different ball game - she used balls to burst more balls, with her mouse.  Here’s a toast - to Ms B and her balls err ball games

That long spring is over
And April has had its fool
Cuckoos to their nests and memories to iron chests
Have retired.

The wet kisses have evaporated on the lips
And the dark marks of love gradually faded
With half a cycle of the moon

The spring is over and so is the swan’s song
In my empty room -
That crystal ballerina on the bedside table
And that ball of sorrow stuck in my throat.

The first time India had lifted the Cricket World Cup, I was 37 days old and so, this was my first encounter with the euphoria I’ve always envied the people of Brazil and Australia for. I never knew how it feels when one’s country wins its most popular game in an world cup. I’ve only seen them cry, hug each other in ecstasy and party all night in the streets flashing and waving the national flag. But this time around, it was my turn. Between the cup and the lips though, many vocal chords were damaged, many packets of chips and many fingernails consumed. But in the end, the champagne was showered on my men, on our men. And blue never felt brighter than this.

The first time is always exciting. The first love, the first kiss, the first peg, the first day when I was able to read out the graffiti on a wall. But this, beat them all. The shiver that ran down my spine when Mahendra Singh Dhoni hurled the last ball hit for a sixer, was something I’ve never experienced before in my lifetime. I so wish to relive this day world cup after world cup and I do believe we’ll have the good fortune of seeing our men in Blue lift the world cup again and again. But trust me, it’ll never feel the same. The same shiver will never again run down my spine, the same gooseflesh won’t rise to the same occasion. The firsts always have a special place, and for me, 2nd April 2011 will forever stay in that special pedestal of my glory-starved life , beating all blues - that blue bird of my dreams.

In those crystal balls just beneath your forehead
I’ve seen my fortune
I saw disaster,
Shards of a broken heart,
Two bruised feet
And some fleeting pleasure.

I saw us walk hand in hand
By that weeded path
Towards the forked crossroads
Where we’ll part ways;
That lilac coloured day -

When I’ll rejoin life.

I want to write to you
The love letter of sin
From my marital bed
Fetching the dark red ink
Of pleasure
From the deepest recesses of my desire,
I’ll write to you

I’ll write to you
In letters reeking shamelessly of happiness,
About roses, about roads untravelled,
About unbridled mirth and
Daring heartbeats

I’ll also write about
My longing to be chased by you
Around the room
Dressed in my earnest femininity
And about the desire
Of being put to sleep
While you read out to me -
‘The little prince’.

Then, I’ll seal it with a wet kiss
And hide it in my lingerie closet
Beneath that white lace nightgown
Which you chose for me
As a reward,
For the promise of oblivion.