The Move

It was the big day. She was nervous, worried, scared, and anxious all at the same time.

——–

Friends in her old school had warned her about moving into a new school. They had told her to stay back, “So what if your dad got a transfer? You can stay in the hostel with us.” But her mother had been stubborn. They had to move to a new city and Jessica wasn’t to argue.And so she had packed up her books, her toys, and her favourite stuffed animals. Rhonda and Mervin had teared up when they said their goodbyes. “Please come visit us,” Mervin had said, wiping her tears with the handkerchief pinned to her pinafore. And Rhonda had been too upset for anything more than a giant hug.

And so she had packed up her books, her toys, and her favourite stuffed animals. Rhonda and Mervin had teared up when they said their goodbyes. “Please come visit us,” Mervin had said, wiping her tears with the handkerchief pinned to her pinafore. And Rhonda had been too upset for anything more than a giant hug.The other kids had tried to be more helpful. “Hey, be careful. I heard kids in that city are

The other kids had tried to be more helpful. “Hey, be careful. I heard kids in that city are barbarous. They’ll tease you, and push you, and won’t pick you in group games.”Jessica tried to tell her mom all this, but she wasn’t to argue. They had filled up the car and ridden off to the city of Bangalore. She had walked into

Jessica tried to tell her mom all this, but she wasn’t to argue. They had filled up the car and ridden off to the city of Bangalore. She had walked into the school and everyone had teased her, ‘Just like Peter said,’ she wailed to herself. But she wasn’t to argue, so she adapted instead. Ten years went by and new school had now become

Ten years went by and new school had now become school. Strangers had become classmates and some even friends. As she stood at the gate on the last day of her school life, Jessica remembered Rhonda. “Please come visit us,” Rhonda’s teary voice reverberated in her head. Jessica had never gone back. “Friends forever!” They had declared to one another. And she hadn’t even called Rhonda once since the move. Mervin had called her twice, but she had been too busy with her new friends to answer or call back. Bangalore had thrown her in the midst of iPhone photographers and makeup-clad girls. She had been too distracted to think of small town Rhonda and Mervin.

And standing by the gate, alone, she yearned to sit once again, at the school canteen with Rhonda and Mervin by her side. And then she realised, it was time to make the visit she had postponed for so long.

—

It was the big day. Her old town was still old, still shabby, and still small. She approached the decaying school building with its peeling paint and cracked walls. And there they stood, looking much older than in her memories of them, Rhonda and Mervin. They had grown out of their pinafores and into dainty dresses. Jessica smiled at them and saw they did too. There was not a hint of or anger in their eyes. She began walking towards them, and every step sent shivers down Jessica’s spine.

Sunset, Framed

We live close to Yearcaud (a hill station smaller than Kodaikanal or Ooty) and often on Sundays, we’d ride uphill awhile to kill the time and get high. It was one of those days when the sun was too beautiful to ignore, and I took a picture through the car window. Because sometimes, you need more than Instagram frames.

framed

Lesson to Be

When the new girl joined their class, the sixth graders had all gawked at her. She was at least five inches shorter than the shortest kid in their class.

She wore round glasses and had leather-bound books. She had to sit in the first row because she couldn’t see the teacher from anywhere else. From the first day, she knew she’d find no friends in her classmates. They teased her all the time, hid her books at a height she couldn’t reach and, snatched her specs away in jest. It was torture for her and amusing for them.

If her height was one reason, her name was another to make fun of her. She was called Hermia.

They would learn their lesson the following year in A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

Hermia

One of Those Days

Summer’s gone, and so’s its breezy aftermath. We’re now rushing into monsoons that could get so bad that the entire city flooded last year.

This year, it started with untimed rains and unpredicted washouts. When I put my clothes out to dry, I didn’t know it would rain. When I walked into the office, I didn’t know it would start pouring ten minutes later. When I stood on the balcony looking out at the darkening sky, I didn’t know I’d have to wade in through puddles to reach home later in the evening.

I didn’t know I had walk past polyethene bags ingrained in wet soil, worms creeping over stones, and dogs shaking their manes, drenching me in the process.

I didn’t expect to get my pants splashed with mud and my just-washed hair getting another involuntary wash.

I didn’t want to be the only person in our building to come home to soggy clothes after all day at work. Or the one that washed her shoes every day because they drowned in pools of rainwater.

I didn’t ask for the monsoon to make me miserable. I didn’t want my sunshine to cower behind clouds, unable to push them away.

But when I walked towards my office today, I saw the sun trying. Reigning clouds veiled her, yet she shone —- weak, but steady. And I smiled. It doesn’t matter how lousy the monsoon makes me feel. If the sun can get through it, so can I.

Made to Order

made to order

The ideal one is neither a riff raff
nor the tied-up, suited honest freak
not the shaven, tall, dark, or handsome
and certainly not the short-haired one.

The ideal one feels home with bell bottoms,
weeded hippies and loose collared shirts
the expert guitarists and beard nurturers
and a healthy addiction to cigars and beers

The ideal one is a peace craving soul rebel
who picks a pick, a headband over a love band
a sneaker or seeker, but with sneakers still on
or boots or roller blades, as long as it’s his own
who’s moved away from dad, and disregards every fad
who’d join hands and nods head to every new joint
who knows governments are cheats, political creeps
fights for the oppressed supports the suppressed
like a medical man and the clinically depressed,

The ideal one is one who stands his ground,
who speaks his mind, and folds his arms
and when he smiles it comes from the heart,
and reaches all the way to the eyes.