Better Late than Never

All our young lives we search for someone to love, someone to make us complete. We choose partners and change partners. We dance to a song of heartbreak and hope, all the while wondering if somewhere, somehow, someone perfect is searching for us.
-The Wonder Years

There are thoughts that force me to do some soul searching, especially when the preoccuptations of the day have passed, when I am by myself, flirting with my thoughts, juggling them like circus balls in my mind. I wont say I am haunted by them all the time, but I know they are there, at the back of my mind, floating around, poking into my self, probing, asking me questions, getting no answers and then mocking me for my impuissance.

I am not troubled by most of these thoughts or questions, whether they are regarding my career, my accomplishments, my bank balance or my crappy middle class tin box on wheels. These are rather ephemeral in nature and I usually cast them aside or give myself a pep talk on being optimistic and how the night is darkest before dawn and blah...blah...blah...you get the picture. But one thought screws with my head relentlessly, it makes my mind feel like a block of wood going through an industrial circular saw blade. Why is this you ask? Well it's this reoccuring thought of finding or should I say the possibility of finding that oh so illusive soul mate, if anything like that exists at all.

For most people, this question is either normally answered by an affair that stuck or a teenage romance that matured as it hit adulthood or an arranged union organized and in some cases thrust upon them by their all knowing-supervising parents, with all due respect of course. But for the few unlucky ones like me, who are still searching and getting old in the process, this becomes an endless wait for a person whose number of qualifiers become inversely proportional to the time we have to wait to find them. Because as you see, the longer your clock keeps ticking and the more you have to wait, the more you are willing to compromise and drop some of your (spawned out of fantasy, dreadfully reminiscent of romantic movies or songs and idealistic) stipulations.

But the real problem is when you end up like me, unwilling to compromise and forever ready to believe that just like I am searching for someone, that someone, somewhere is searching for me. Not ready to accept someone unless I feel they are the one for me. I know it sounds delusional and impractical and borderline childish and people who know me would probably not believe that I even endorse such a viewpoint, and I don't...atleast most of the time I don't. I'm Working, keeping busy, meeting friends, wrestling with whatever life throws at me. But there are moments...of self doubt, when you have a bad day, when everything you do goes wrong, when the world around you seems to be falling apart, when you can't tell anybody else in the world the conflicts inside you...that's when you wish that there was someone who you could turn to, someone who would listen, the comfort of looking into their eyes, knowing that you are safe and nothing else but you matters to them. Even when you have a bad hair day or look like something a herd of cows left behind, they will think you look your adorable best. It's when the realization of not having anyone to break your fall dawns, that you begin to comprehend how alone you actually are. The feeling doesn't last for too long, but it lingers. And that lingering for how ever long it decides to stay, leaves you feeling a little hollow and a little more incomplete everytime.

Now I am not saying that everybody needs that someone to feel complete or fulfilled, you never know they might make your life more complicated and frivolous. But just by virtue of being there for you, they make a difference. Anyone who says they don't, is just lying to themselves. Even the toughest among us need support, some times more than they will let us know. In any case, it makes the world a lot less scarier place to live in...period!

So will my endless wait for that person end? I dont know!...no one can answer that question...maybe it will..it might as well happen tomorrow...or maybe I will have to wait a lot longer. Of all the things in my life I have no control over, this is something that I am in charge of, or atleast I live in the illusion that I am. And I will wait for as long as it takes. How will I know when I meet the one?...well I guess I will just have to trust my instincts and as far as I know myself...when the right one comes along...I will just know! I might make a few mistakes here and there...but find her I will. And when I do or better still...she finds me...I will ask her one pertinent question...

What the hell took you so long?!!

and I think I know what she will say..."I got here as fast I could!"

Yesterday

The bus I missed on my way back home,
Last night's dinner and it's taste outworn,
The bell ringing on her telephone,
Reminds me of yesterday once more,

Old letters and pictures and tempers blown,
A crescent moon and a hint of cologne,
Some words I forget but remember their tone,
Reminds me of yesterday once more,

The sweat on my forehead and her beguiling moans,
Sheets in disarray, a mesh of wine on the floor,
Her repulsive after taste and the perfume she wore,
Reminds me of yesterday once more,

Raindrops dancing against the casement bow,
a reason to betray, an unrepentent baritone,
Her unsought warmth and my frosty brow,
Reminds me of yesterday once more,

a kiss goodbye at quarter past four,
my need for her deminishing even more,
her forsaken guise, like it was etched in stone,
Reminds me of yesterday once more.

My admission to the guilt like it was some sort of joke,
a spring in my step, my heart gone rogue,
the smirk on my face as I walked back home,
Reminds of yesterday once more.

Life will keep rolling on

Trees will age and their leaves will dwindle,
Seasons will scamper on,
a quarter of the world will lie arid, the other will negotiate a storm,
you and I will passively watch, and,
Life will keep rolling on,

Hearts will be broken and lovers forgotten,
Romeos will still be born,
Integrity and honor will be spoken, by ideological whores blowing their horns,
You and I will abandon our voices, and,
Life will keep rolling on

Innocents will be hung, and the guilty exalted,
welfare groups will still be formed,
sermons will be fed to the starving, Priests will proclaim the Lord,
You and I will sing our hymns, and,
Life will keep rolling on,

Millions will be butchered for money, religion and power,
Babies will still be borne,
The nourished will be guilty of gluttony, the hungry will learn to starve,
You and I will simply sigh, and,
Life will keep rolling on,

The seeds will sprout again, the flowers will return,
Our hearts will forgive once more,
People will forget today like it was yesterday, and tomorrow will give them hope,
You and I will exonrate our misdeeds, and,
Life will keep rolling on

Silent Vow

Read to me some eloquent poetry,
Play to me a mesmerizing score,

Dance for me in those scorching heels,

Please my senses, put on a grand show,

Let time stand still, let your body sway,

to the music, to the moment and the madness in play,

Let your eyes pierce their way into the tattered drapes of my soul,

Make torrid love to me like a man on death row,

When we're famished lie beside me, collect me in your embrace,

Kiss me softly but linger so the pain leaves no trace,

Let your timid beauty be the only memory I recall,

Let our vanity be the venom that fulfills our silent vow.

All you need to do is try

It takes a lot to hide the truth, even more to cover a lie,
years to win a heart, a moment of madness to make it cry,
to be disillusioned is part of the journey, to give up is the satiric crime,
hush my darling now, this too shall pass us by,
take that first step, all you need to do is try,

One day we'll have it all,
those marquee cars, that penthouse in the sky,
Till then we'll have to make do,
with your generous laughter, and my soup stained tie,
As long as we're side by side, there's nothing we can't survive,
so set your fears aside, all you need to do is try,

Not everything in life works to a plan,
Then does it matter? the when, the what, the why,
Thinking too much is such a waste of time, All that's left when your'e done is cynicism and wry,
Come on this adventure with me, I'll make it worth the while,
It's not that hard to imagine, all you need to do is try,

Words can only say so much, just paper with the ink gone dry,
I'd learn something new, if just to impress you by,
But I'm getting old and time isn't on my side,
Words are all I have besides my reassuring smile,
If that's not enough to seal the deal, hold my hand if just to say goodbye,
It's not that tough to break my heart, all you need to do is try.

Reprinted

We go through life with certain regrets,
things we didn't do, words left unsaid,
the omens we ignored, the hate we bred,
the people we rejected, the ones we met,
some decisions years ago, some ideas that wed,
some broken hearts, some lovers that fled,

Once in a while, truth be said,
life gives us a chance to live again.,
to fix certain wrongs, to face fears we dred,
to heal broken hearts and make amends,
to hold someone's hand and trust them again,

So I ask you this as I bow my head,
I dressed in black and you in crimson red,
request a dance, my words cautiously tread,
reprinting dreams, I nurtured in my head,

would you sway with me or turn me down instead?,
take a second chance or live in eternal regret,
your mind is your worst enemy my dear, and your best friend,
and the beginning of something can also be it's end.

Black Coffee and Daisies - Part I

It was an evening like any other and as usual my afternoon nap had extended well beyond it's usual duration. But what did I really have to look forward to, wouldn't it be better to just go back to sleep, dream a while longer, atleast there, some things, if not all, were right.

NO! came a scream from somewhere inside...stop feeling sorry for yourself and make something of the day...being locked and cooped up inside the apartment is no way to waste a perfectly fine evening. I unwillingly accepted the pep talk and made my way out of bed.

Ten minutes and a shower later, I was actually more optimistic about the imperfectness and tribulations of my life and how to deal with them, amazing what some hot water can do to your perspective. I knew what I needed, I grabbed my Jacket and keys and rushed out the door.

The weather outside was a little chilly, but just as welcoming as it seemed from my apartment window.

I decided to drive down to my favourite coffee house. That should do the trick, a nice dose of caffeine should give me the kick I so desperately needed. I parked my car in the nearly packed parking lot, and scurried towards the coffee house. As I pushed the door to enter, I was welcomed by a flurry of glares, emotions and aromas, some I was accustomed to and some that were new, some curious and some indifferent, some that made me feel comfortable and others that made me queasy. I scanned the room trying to locate my regular table, hopefully it had not been taken yet. It took some time for me to locate it. I knew where it was just that a place looks so different when it's full of people against when it's empty. To my delight it was empty, there are not many takers for a table in a quiet corner. I made my way through the crowd and took my seat. The table felt a little cut off from the rest of the coffee house, and that could be one of the reasons I liked it. It let me be.

I was a constant visitor and had developed a cordial relationship with the owner, a chubby man in his late 40's, with a slight beer belly and a beaming smile, his spectacles constantly looked like they were going to fall off his nose any moment, but surprisingly they never did, like they were glued that way.

I hinted at the attendant and he knew what my order was. A while later, he placed a tray on my table with my order. I looked at the familiar contents of the tray. A blueberry swizzle and a cuppuccino.

Being a writer, one learns to observe one's sorrounding with an eye for detail. You learn to pick up stuff, the way people walk, they way they talk, sit, play with their hands, squint their eyes, their laughter, their frowns and a plethora of human emotions, habits and sensibilities.

Sitting on this table, was like being posted at a vantage point. The rest of the coffee house became a drama unfolding itself layer by layer, part by part. It helps to observe, that I have already stated, but it's more than that. It allows me to be both a spectator and a participant, even if it's a passive one. Allows me to be a part of their conversations and in a non-personal way become a part of a minute instant in their lives. Helps me to medicate the scars of my loneliness.

Anyways, the reason for writing this particular story is not to tell you about my tribulations as a writer or fish for sympathy. It's about what happened on this particular day that has stayed with me till today.

Like most days, I usually sat at the coffee house for hours, I had the luxury of time unlike most people who frequent this place. The crowd usually begins to thin as the evening wears on. Today was no different, there were only a few tables that were occupied. I was just overhearing a couple of men on the table to my left, arguing over stocks and the volatility of the stock market. I couldn't make head or tail of their conversation and the subject of finance was not one of my strengths in college. But I kept listening, being bored was better than having nothing to do.

Suddenly, I was jolted from monotony by the sound of the door opening and my attention swayed in it's direction. A very immaculately dressed man entered, he looked like he was in his late 50's, but his posture and mannerism gave the impression that he might be younger. He seemed to be a little extravagantly dressed for something as routine as having coffee. The coffee house in itself was more humbler when compared to the other more elite shops located in many of the five-star hotels in the city. If it hadn't been for his age, I would have thought the man was getting married or maybe on his way to a stately dinner. He had his right hand in his coat pocket and it seemed like he was toying with something, maybe a watch or a piece of jewelry, I couldn't be sure. His left hand had a single ring, probably his wedding ring. As he walked towards an empty table, he had an elegance, a poise about him, almost an aura which differentiated him from the genre of people that I had been observing all evening. This was an interesting development, my day might not be a complete waste, I thought to myself.

He took the table almost parallel to mine, with the counter to his left and the men discussing their stocks to his right, and sat down. Motioned for an attendant, and whispered something in his ear and then returned to fumbling with the contents of his pocket. He didn't even look at the menu, which meant that he frequented the place often and almost always placed the same order. Funny, I had never seen him before. But it was nice to note that we had something in common.

He looked relaxed and rather peaceful, although he wore a bereaved look on his face. His order arrived a few minutes later. He picked up a sugar sachet and began emptying it's contents into the cup. He stirred for a while and then lay the spoon down on the tray. Nothing till now, seemed out of the ordinary so I decided to find another subject till something more interesting happened. Just as I was about to lift my gaze, he did something peculiar. He took out his wedding ring and placed it in the saucer. He then withdrew, threw back his head and closed his eyes for a few seconds, his lips moved as if in a prayer or reciting a sermon, took a deep breath and returned to his normal posture. He did this with such subtlety that I doubted anyone else in the vicinity even noticed.

When he opened his eyes again, the seemed moist, like a few tears were floating but reluctant to fall. He then held the cup and saucer in his hands, in some sort if an embrace, like one would hold a pastor's hand at church. And he stayed that way for the rest of the time he was there, like he was in a trance. Apart from some odd moments when he would sip his coffee, he remained indifferent to his surroundings like he was in some other world. I was almost aching to see some sort of reaction or to make some sense of what was progressing before me. But I couldn't. I had lost track of time myself.

Finally, I saw his fingers relax and let go of the cup, then just as unexpected and astounding as his entry had been, he put the ring back on his finger, paid for his coffee and walked out.

(...to be continued)

(Image courtesy - http://media.photobucket.com/image/black%20coffee/natattack15/Black_Coffee_by_Sankri.jpg)