Spoorthi

manassina gondalakke yellide spoorthi

daari kaanada naavikanige yelliya spoorthi

hasanmukhada husinageya,

mana tumbuva manadanne iradode

manake salluva yella sihi matina sakhiyaru yenage spoorthi

Kannu

kavige iruvudu ravigillada kannu

Poet has eyes which arent even present in the sun  

kattaleyallu belakanu kaanuva kannu

Eyes which can see light in darkness

nageya hinde iruva kashtava hudukuva kannu

Eyes which can see the pain behind the smile

anandabashpava arthaisuva hrudayada kannu

Eyes of the heart which can comprehend the tears of joy

snehakke mammala maraguva sahishnuteya kannu

Eyes which care for friendship

kannotadalli paristithiya sambalisuva arivina kannu

Eyes which can give reassurance in troubled times

nimma udaaravada hurudumbikeyali mereyuva hemmeya kannu

Eyes which light up in the ego caused by your motivation 

nimma snehada saviya munde nannadu mooka kannu

Nenapu

Paalu hampiyalli

Sitting here in the ruins of hampi

Neerasa ratriyalli

In this bored uneventful night

koreyuva chaliyalli

In the chill of the night breeze

Berellaru malagiralu

When everyone else is asleep

Hariva zariyallu avala baluku

Can visualize her walk in the flow of the stream

jvaleyallu avala holapu

Can sense her glow in the flames of the campfire

mounadallu avala maatu

Listen to her talk in this silence

gumpinallu avala nenapu

Even in the midst of the crowd, I am reminded of her

gaaliyallu avala kampu

Even the winds carry her scent here

sidukinallu avala mattu

I can visualise and feel the passion of her anger

manasu innu avala svathu

Even now my mind is hers

marayalare avala olava,

Cant forget her love,

kodisalare manake mudava

Cannot make my mind feel normal

aranyarodana dalli kalediruvudu varushavondu

One year has passed in the midst of sorrow, like crying in a forest where no one hears

hosavarshada sugginalli jagavella higgutiralu

When the world is out rejoicing the onset of another year

innu avala nenapina nittusiru

All I have is agony of her memories

kanninalli hariva tunge,

With the tunga river flowing from my eyes

mlanagonda mukhava maresi
Trying to hide my sad face from others

bhadre yelli bhadrateya huduki
Searching for security in the depth of bhadra river

saagihoyitondu ugavu

Time has slowly passed

kaanadondu hosadu yenu
Yet cannot see anything new

avala bittu bedaviga bere yenu

I don’t want anything but her....

How I wish I could talk to her all day,,,,,

They say some people can move mountains with their words. I always disbelieved them. I used to talk to her on a daily basis in person. More on the work related front. One day I happened to talk to her on the mobile. It was really amazing....!
I had never sensed her voice to be so sweet that it could launch a million products. Now I am sort of addicted to her voice. Can't think of talking to anyone else but her.

I just call her, as I can't think of anything else to do. However hard I try not to call, subconsciously my hands dial her number. Always my mind thinks of her. Whenever I call her I am thinking of what she might be doing. As soon as she says something once she picks the call I can judge if she is in the right mood. I can differentiate between the normal Hi, the bored ya tell me, the interesting Hiiiii!!! which sets the tone for a sweet conversation, the Hi Dear, which tells me she is in a jubiliant mood, the softer and slower muttered hi saying someone is around and I should call her later. Her varied uninterested response saying she is not in the right mood now.

As I speak to her I hear the trinkling of the jhumkas in her earrings. It is as though they are the background music caused due to her hearty laugh. The more she laughs the more pleasing they sound. There is something about her voice, which keeps me eternally in raptures. There is subconsciously an effort to make her laugh. An effort to flatter her, compliment her on every small aspect. While talking to her the mind runs amok thinking about her, reminiscing the good times spent with her, the mind paints a colorful happy face of her. Its just that the mind worries when there is a pause in the conversation if she got tired holding the mobile in one of her hands and if she is shifting it to the other hand.

I can sense her moving out of the crowd to talk to me in private. As the winds blow in the hindsight of the conversation I cant help but think of the effect they would be having on her beautiful wavy hair. I hear a lot of people wishing her and I can just assume that she must be balking in all that attention.

She is a demi goddess; anyone who looks at her is usually lost in thought. What effect she has on people is really amazing and I sense a bit of pride somewhere within me which likes to tell others, boss I know her well and want her badly than anything else in life, you better keep off. I can always visualize her playing with her long gold necklace. Her hands can never keep still, they are tapping on something, or playing with the necklace which goes deep down her neck caressing the silk clothes she is wearing, the friction of the gold chain against the silk causes an eerie sensation on her body which results in a small moan in her voice when she talks.

I can feel the mobile slipping on the clear face of hers, so smooth and white and so soft and deft to touch. Just like the face of a new born. Once you touch the skin it just appeals to one so much that involuntarily the hand wants to remain there and enjoy the touch that bit longer.

I am usually at loss of words, in awe of her authority over words, the clarity of her thoughts. I can't help but nod in unison to her views. I am sure when she is talking with such vigor, the large brown orbs in her huge eyes will simultaneously be checking whether anyone is noticing her? Her free hand will surely check on her dress, then her hair and then check whether her sitting posture is all right?

She is confident, well read, has a view on everything under the earth. She is a guide one can fall back on. She is a keen observer whose x-ray eyes sees through anyone's false claims. She plays with the mind, always plays mischievous pranks, plays hard to get. Mocks at one to come and get her.

Just her voice causes my heart to beat faster; just listening to such free flowing sweetness of the laugh causes me to breathe faster. The mouth goes dry in anticipation of what she might say.

She is like the pole star on a new moon night. The only person who I feel is close than any other distant star. The only one who can provide direction to me. The only one I feel is closer to me than anything else under the sun.

I always think is it possible that a voice can give such immense joy? Can a simple voice direct the tides of my emotion just like the moon affects the tidal waves in the night? Can a voice direct my actions? What is it about her voice that I am always engrossed in the finer moments of life and without which life seems meaningless.

I would have loved to tell you more. But sorry I have a call to make... :)

Hoping they still ply the Double Decker service that takes young princesses around Bangalore to introduce them to their citizens.

     Almost 7-8 years ago, late on a Sunday night Vicky asked me if I could accompany him to kancheepuram. His sister was getting married and we had to shop for her sarees he said. He called at around 11.45 pm saying we will start early in the morning to get there before it gets sunny and humid.

     Me,  Vicky his sister and mom left early morning at around 7 am. All of us opined that it would be better to take a driver along, so we picked up a driver en route at Hosur and reached Kanchi by around noon.We contacted the people from the guy’s side who were already in Kanchi for their purchasing and ended up in the same shop. 


     The showroom was a huge place with lots of people selecting the sarees. Usually one salesperson would sit in the midst of a group and a few helpers would get bundles of sarees and the salesperson would start displaying them to the everyone and start describing the inherent qualities,elaborating and exaggerating things about the saree trying to allure the buyers.

     I looked around and saw lots of people like us who had traveled from nook and corner of the country just to buy that extra special grand Kanjeevaram saree for the special day.

     Suddenly I spotted a familiar face. Was it her I thought? No it can’t be, is she the person whom I once knew, my god she is so beautiful now I felt. She stood like a damsel in the midst, trying on a beautiful saree with a rich zari. She was looking at the mirror just verifying if it would suit her. She was so beautiful by herself that any dress would look grand on her. Oh my god she has grown so tall and has such a poise to her already majestic presence I thought.

     I for a minute thought if its ok to go and say hi to her, maybe pull her plaits of hair just like I used to  when she was young. I checked to see if she still had that twin plaits of hair, which I used to ridicule her with. I was surprised when I noticed the long bouncy hair she had now. I was still in a state of surprise /disbelief and was trying to remember if she was indeed the person I knew.

     Once I was sure that it was her, I wanted to talk to her badly... It was after so many years that I happened to see her again, so much to catch up with. I checked if anyone I knew was accompanying her. I didn’t see her mom  nor her dad, it seemed that she had come with her fiancée’s family.

     I was like someone who had suddenly found a lost treasure; I wanted to loudly proclaim that yeah life had taken pity so that I could meet her again. But as always saner and wiser judgment prevailed.

     Though she might still remember me, still I shouldn’t put her to inconvenience I thought. I wasn’t sure if she actually did remember me after all these years.

     Her mannerisms made me realise that she had recognized me; I could notice her occasional glance towards me in the mirror whenever she was trying a new saree by placing it on her body. Trying to find out from me if the dress matched her. Still I was not sure if she had recognised me so once our shopping was done we moved onto a different shop. It was late in the evening when we started for Bangalore. It was raining heavily, in no time Vicky, his sister and mom were fast asleep. I could see the sense of satisfaction on Vicky’s Sister's face. Everyone is tired I thought, I was trying to engage the driver in a conversation lest he succumb to sleep.

     The rain was getting heavier and hence our advance was getting slower. I began to see the downpour and remembered the saying we have in kannada which implies that when you meet a friend after a long time, our first reaction is to mention that it surely will rain today. This I thought was true in my case.

     Looking at the rain I remembered those days. It was in the late eighties that one of my neighbors had a visitor from Hyderabad. She was a school going kid who had studied in residential school all her life. It was her first visit to Bangalore. My neighbors had to rush to their native place for a day due to some emergency and hence asked me if I could take care of the girl till they returned in the evening. I didn’t know what to say, I said fine and invited her to my place. There she was a small girl with a pink top and gray sneakers. She sounded funny with the braces on her dentures. She was so shy and scared. We played snake n ladder, ludo, brainvita and monopoly for a while. In no time she was bored.

     I was scared if she would start crying asking to go back to mom or ask for my neighbors. I asked her if she wanted to go out somewhere. That question brought a big smile on her face. I told her in Bangalore we had a bus on a bus called the double Decker in which only princesses were taken around Bangalore. Even the birds on the big trees used to bow to the princess and that even trees gave way to the princess. The princess could sit on top of the world and look at all her citizens in Bangalore.

     She was excited about it and asked if they would allow her to be the princess for a day and if she could go for a ride in the same. Those days there were quite a few double deckers plying on Bangalore roads, I chose route no 150 between market and shivajinagar. She seemed very excited, happy, elated and satisfied at the end of the journey to cubbonpark. She enjoyed the rides in merry go round, giant wheel etc in cubbon park. She had decided she would buy herself a horse when she was older at the end of the pony ride. She loved the toy train ride and was visibly scared when the train went through the small tunnel. It was almost evening when we started for home, the entire ride had taken a toll on her and she was visibly tired and hungry. I took her to the candy shop to buy her some cotton candy so that she is occupied till we reached home. She was surprised to see cotton candy. She told me it was the first time she was seeing it. I told her that the cotton candy is a very rare sweet. Only very few people in the world can make it to increase her curiosity, she was amazed to see how the guy could just wave the stick in air and create a candy out of nothing. She stomached quite a few cotton candies. She pestered the candy shop fellow enough untill he could make a candy in her favorite color yellow. At the end of the day she was happy and asleep by the time my neighbors returned.

    From then on she used to visit her aunt (my neighbor) every summer. She would eventually bump into me to borrow books. It started of with Tin Tin and Tinkles. Then moved on to Enid blyton, famous five, secret seven, Nancy drew, Hardy Boys etc. And then my neighbors shifted their house, so my lone point of contact with her was lost and she was restrained only to sweet memories.

        We were near hosur when finally the rain subsided. I was back from my thinking and reached bangalore late in the night. It was around noon the next day when I got a call on my mobile. When I answered the call a sweet voice asked if they still took princesses around in Bangalore in Double Deckers to introduce them to their citizens. At the mention of it both of us started laughing. She started her normal barrage of questions. Where are you, what are you doing, etc. I mean here she was calling up after ages but still felt she had the right to question me like this. I could sense the excitement in her voice; there were a lot of things she wanted to talk about, lot of things she had to say. True to the meaning of her name she was speaking sweet. (Priyamvada in Sanskrit means one who speaks sweet always), She started talking like old times that I never bother to call her etc. After a while she told me that she was getting married soon. I said it was evident when I spotted her in Kanchi. Then came her shocking disclosure that she never had been to kanchi and if she wanted any sarees there was a nice shop called Kalanjali in Hyderabad itself which had all the sarees one would ever want to buy.

    I can only say, this girl truly does keep me guessing. I wonder as how fast time flies, I still remember the small tiny scared little girl with pony tails wearing a pink top and gray sneakers on her first visit to Bangalore. I remember vaguely that day all I had spent was ten or twelve rupees. Now Bangalore has grown different and so has she.It is only the sweet memories that remain. But I hope they still ply the Double Decker service that takes young princesses around in Bangalore to introduce them to their citizens.

    Now I want to take my little princess, my daughter on a trip of bangalore, but alas most of the Double Deckers are already history. Other than the kaveri which plies once in a while, can you guys suggest any Double Decker still in service?

Pop kiss this valentine !!!!

Not very long ago, when I was still studying in college. Every evening I had to take care of a private circulating library. My dad had bought this library for a cousin of mine. He got a job somewhere and my dad kept that going, as he didn’t want to give up what he had started. I used to hate doing that. It used to be open only between 6 and 8.30 in the evening. I used to be really awry to be in the library from 6 to 6.30 by which time my dad would come back from office and relieve me of my duties. Usually we were a big gang of friends then, around 50-60 to be correct. We all used to meet up and loaf all evening on bikes. I could never relate to the library, as it was something I never accepted I would continue. So I would be counting minutes and finding reasons not to go there.


But things were about to change thanks to a lovely damsel.

I used to know her mother who used to come by daily to pick up some film magazines. She was such a sweet lady. One fine day she came along with her mother. She was just like freshness personified. She was arguing with her mother on a novel for great lengths. That was surprising I thought, I used to read a lot of novels myself and was an ardent reader of reader’s digest, which was her personal favorite too. It all started slow but slowly I used to stick around for a little late everyday just to get to meet her. But she always used to come with someone in stow and it looked like her mom always sent her out with a bodyguard of sorts. I never used to bother initially, as I used to be a very shy person and was known to everyone in the area where I stayed as someone very studious and intelligent types. There was an amount of respect in all towards me. So I couldn’t get involved in what all despised.

One fine day after she returned a book I found a pink sheet of paper, the ones used in writing pads and it was carefully placed so that it would be noticed and it was smeared with an expensive fragrance. I thought maybe she had used it as a bookmarker and I kept it aside and returned it to her the next day. She quickly said it was not hers, I could notice a speck of fear in her innocent eyes. She was worried if the gardener of her house who used to accompany her noticed it. I was perturbed by her answer, but again found one more of those in the book she returned that day. They kept on coming for a week and I had a collection of those in no time. Every day I saw her it was as if her eyes were trying to ask something and she wanted to say something. But thanks to the bodyguard it was just too much to comprehend in too less time with too much of information crisscrossing through the eyes. She just said even walls have ears in a very low voice and left.

That night I took them all home, I didn’t know what to do with empty sheets of paper, but her voice kept ringing in my ears “Even walls have ears”, then it suddenly struck to me that she was trying the old method of writing letters. I used a candle and lo behold there were the letters in front of me written in soap and visible only to me and destroyed as soon as I read them.

She was really doing a great job, playing well within her limited options still managing to send a letter to me. I was amazed at her thinking and really flabbergasted at her repertoire and choice of words.

Then we switched to the books style. She would mark the words in the book with a pencil and I would have another book with the answer. The ingenuity of the approach broached very well. I was having fun at doing such things. All of a sudden I started waiting for the response and was taking pains to write the answer etc.

Still we couldn’t meet and talk anywhere, we both used to find time to talk to each other at the Indian institute of world culture library. We would visit the library there over the weekends and behind those book shelves get some private time for each other.

She used to cook things, get me things she cooked for me to taste. Life was at its magical best thanks to her fondness and beautiful presence.

In early 1994 she sent me a coded message, it read across 20 pages, a character in every page and once I could write it down it read, “will you be my valentine“

I really didn’t know what it meant, I had to go through a lot of friends and read quite a bit of literature to realize what she said.

We both planned to go out on a outing for a day. She had lied at her place about a special class in the morning. We decided to meet near the railway station.

I was there early in the morning; she came there a bit later. She was wearing her favourite Levis jeans and a white top. She had presumably had a head bath and her hair was still wet. So the first valentine was a trip to mysore. We had a gala time together.

There was no fear as we didn’t know anyone and there wasn’t the constant fear that we might bump into someone we know. That is still in my memory as it were yesterday; it was as though she had kept all her passion and emotion pent up, which was just to be released on that day. Sitting next to her on the door of the train, seeing all those paddy and sugarcane fields pass by, I was filled with joy that was unknown and unheard of till then. I had never believed that a person could matter so much that just by her presence someone can weave magic that is pleasant and one wouldn’t want to end. We were like long last pals who didn’t want the day to end. She was a lethal combination of good looks backed with loads of trust, simple yet elegant, lovely yet mature, in sum total she was answer to all questions.

During our times we didn’t know much about valentines, didn’t have access to communication methods like people have today. A lot of communication was through the eyes, reading between the lines, all sounds classical now, but still I am nostalgic about those times. Wish they had continued the same way. Now everyone is accessible on their mobiles, asking someone out is just an sms away and families are far more liberal and broad minded. But given a chance one would love to go back to those times. But for her maybe I would never have learnt to read the eyes, communicate using the eyes nor comprehend happiness or sadness just by observing people. She taught me so much. So when last week one of my friends said I was highly intuitive I remembered the reason I tend to be intuitive. So its valid when I thank her for making me what I am today.

She always used to talk a lot about valentines… She had read in a mills and boon about a long lasting sensuous kiss which the author had termed a pop kiss. When the guy kisses the girl, the kiss is so sensual that her left leg goes up pop in the air. She said one can make out just by looking at the girl, a blushing face, a face red with the lovely pain on the lips and eyes which still want to close to relish the experience…

I don’t know if she ever got a pop kiss but I would hope and wish all my friends get to experience a pop kiss this valentines.

Why do we always yearn for something we never get ?

Something I wrote long back to try and portray "drifting of thoughts"


Its Friday again, I am sitting with my friends in the cafeteria and happen to glance on the old photo stuck on
the notice board. It's an ad of hutch phone, a beautiful girl with curly hair saying "Hi". Looking at that a deep sigh emanates out of me because it brings painful memories. She also had lovely curly hair isn't it? Why is that some people taunt us, play on our mind even in their absence. My mind rushes back to the sweet memories just as though it were yesterday, Its already two weeks and still I cant get her out of my system.




It was a Thursday evening; I was coming back from my visit to our office in yokohoma. I was finally relieved that I would soon be returning back. I waited for an express or a limited express but got into a local train, it was an hour-long journey to shibuya from where I had to change trains to the client's office. This journey was sure to be another long boring one I felt. I opened the novel that I was reading, one solace to the trip to Japan is always that I get to read a lot of things, find a lot of time for such simple luxuries in life. As I was about to start reading I just glanced around the train and was left spellbound. I just couldn't believe my eyes and hence looked again and again just to reassure myself that I am not seeing any dream. There was someone wearing a saree in the next compartment. It was a pleasant surprise to see someone that too in a saree in a place like Tokyo. I was getting used to seeing only the Japanese folks all through my stay with maybe an occasional bump into some Indians in Indian restaurants.


She was sitting in a diagonally opposite seat to mine in the next compartment with the glass door between us. I couldn't help but look at her again and again in disbelief. She was a stunner all right. She was wearing a black saree and had a shawl over that. The shawl matched with the saree and was of a blackish blue and pink mixed tinge color.


I concurred that she hadn't seen me watching her yet. She was busy reading a book. I could only appreciate the dressing sense of her. Saree I had always felt was one of the sexiest dresses around. There was something special about the way she had worn the saree. She had tied her hair and hence giving a glimpse of a beautiful long neck. She was very fair and her beauty was oozing out of the contrast of her fairness to the black saree she was wearing. I was curious to check what she was reading. I always admire people who utilize their free time and address their loneliness in a positive way. That assures that one doesn't get entangled in depressive thoughts.


She was a beauty beyond compare. I suddenly remembered kalidasa's words "Chitrarpitarambhaivavatasthe". I was stunned as though some one had frozen me to a portrait looking at her. She was like someone whom god had taken a while to create, even god would have first painted her and kept a finger on his nose admiring his creation.


There are a lot of people who are so stunningly beautiful but very few amongst them have the suaveness in presentation. This girl was evidently different. I could see the tattoo of the conch on her arms visible as she was wearing a sleeveless blouse. She oozed sensuality unmatched and an oomph factor, which would make any soul near her sweat just by her presence.


My mind was running behind in memories, I knew that I was trying to placate her dressing sense with someone I knew. It was two years ago. I had just returned from my first trip to japan. Shubha was excited to see that I had brought a digital camera. Her parents were searching a bridegroom for her. She asked me if she could borrow my camera for a few days. I said yes, and thanks to her guile charm I became the official photographer too. I was never ready for what was in store. What started of as one photograph that she needs to give to future prospective bridegrooms went on for days on end and ended up in a big portfolio kind of shoot. I had never given thought to dressing till that day. She was like a perfectionist in all the things. She had different sets of clothes, matching jewelry, matching shoes, matching hairstyle etc. I was surprised when I saw how much thought she put into dressing herself. She had a big list of accessories, which went with what, a huge collection of shawls to go with the right dress. I was simply stumped. I had never thought of any big use for the digital camera. It was just something that I thought would replace my auto focus camera. But it gave a lot of choice to someone like shubha as she needn't pay for developing the photographs. She could just download them to the system and check how she looked in the different dresses. There were photographs of her in every possible angle, in every possible dress and in every possible jewelry combination in no time. The folders in the system were also well organized saying red, black, white etc denoting what color she wore. A smile came on my face remembering what her husband told me recently, he said she looks good in any dress. Lucky chap didn't have to go through the fact-finding mission.




Back to the person in the train, I was amazed at her choice of jewelry, which though dormant only added beauty, I could only admire her taste. A thin strand of black ran on her white slender hand just like a creeper grows on the branch of a tree. I could see a small but lovely black dial watch on her hand. She had rings some of them gold, some of them silver on all her fingers on the hand. She had such beautiful curly hair. A few strands of curly hair were let to fall free at the end of her forehead that came down circling down her face. It was as if a warning to anyone who was entangled in her beauty would be lost in the curls of her hair. I could see another tattoo on her navel just like a lamp giving out flames. Hmm true isn't it I thought, place where all the fire emanates. It's during this time that she noticed that I was ogling at her.


A sweet face which was smiling all this while suddenly turned perplexed, the large eyes which were looking sweet suddenly skewed and the white face somehow reddened with anger and the eyes were asking a big question mark.


I was like a bad pupil caught in the act, but I just showed my book and ran my fingers over the title and pointed towards her book and shook my hand in thin air as if to ask what?


The muscles in her face relaxed, the angered face turned to a sweeter face with a mischievous smile and she held the book towards me so that I could read the title. One look at the cover and I knew the book "Da Vinci Code", that was a book I had already read. My face gave an all-knowing grin. I just showed the book I was reading, a Fredrick forsyth, and an old one. She gave an appreciative grin so as to say she was impressed.


Eyes took over from there. Eyes have such a universal language isn't it, they need no language, no common medium to communicate, they can communicate without the need to hear, without the need to sense, without the need to taste, without the need to smell. If you have noticed any great bonding amongst two people then you would have surely noticed that a movement of the eyelids is enough for the other to know the true intent and what he/she needs to do.


Wicked are the ways of mind, my eyes could never go anywhere else but her, I was surprised at myself, I would try to look elsewhere, think of something else, but it was like as though she was so domineering over me that in a split second my eyes and my mind would return to her. After a while I thought maybe I should do something about it. I drew the notebook out of my bag, struggled to write something like a cup and smoke emanating out of it, below that wrote in big letters the word "COFFEE" and a huge question mark next to it. Happy at what I could arrive at I showed it towards her. She gave such a warm and flirtatious and big smile that my heart missed a beat. I thought I was right I had fallen hook line and sinker to this girl.


But the happiness was very short lived, while laughing she put her hands and brought out her mangala sutra out of nowhere. Atta girl you surely are cool were the words that came out of my mouth. Surprises such as these are so common place to me that these days it doesn't perturb me much. I love the ways of life, just when you think you are lucky fate looks the other way. I just shrugged my shoulders and gave out an impassive look so as to say so what?


She for sure hadn't expected me to say something like that I guess, she suddenly became silent, reserved and kept to the book. I was surprised if this was the same girl who was flirting a while back. I was sure the eyes till now told a different story. Well there ends another friendship even before it started I thought and for a change looked at the time. It was already 10 mins to 5 pm and I had to be in the clients place at the earliest.


That's when I saw her get up, there was an aura about her, a presence which defied anything else. Her walk was majestic, her steps measured as though everything was in sync. As she opened the door her perfume told me of her arrival even before she entered my compartment. She had such lovely feet when I observed from close. She paused for a while near me removed her shawl and wore it again over her. The whole thing was for me simply stage-managed. It was a godsend just to let me see her from up close. I really had no regrets. Very few people know how to play with someone else's mind and taunt their thinking. I was simply spell bound in her presence, my mouth suddenly went dry, my breathing became heavier and suddenly I was not able to even bring out a hi from my mouth. Suddenly the stop arrived and the doors opened.


I was in a feeling of ecstasy with her in my immediate presence and I was kicking myself as no word was emanating out of my mouth when she uttered those words. Its like all the noise in the background subsided, an angelic voice just said "Same time tomorrow shibuya Dotour" and she walked away into the crowd out of the train. She had such a sweet, musical sexy voice that only after she left did it drain on me that there wouldn't be any tomorrow. I was supposed to leave Saturday morning to bangalore and hence I would surely be stuck in office till late night on Friday.


I am sure we would have hurt a lot of people unknowingly. We also wrongly blame so many people for letting us down. If it were a friend I have known for long, maybe he/she would understand when I didn't turn up. What do I say to a soul who might have waited for a person she saw on the train to turn up at the coffee shop on the next day. How would I tell someone I hardly know that I was just visiting japan. What can I answer when she might form a perception about guys and say all guys are like this?


Sitting here amidst all beautiful people sipping a cup of coffee I can't help but think of her. I am always in beautiful company, amidst all intelligent smart people who have a view about everything in life. Still the mind always yearns for that mystical person. Why is it that we always like someone we don't know, why don't we appreciate people whom we know who are all equally special? Why this longing in life for mystery?


Again the girl in the hutch ad looks sweetly back with a hi? I am but left to think of the ways of life and god, but for these mysteries and set backs life wouldn't be life would it?