Travelling Hangovers

 i love travelling. i love the liberation that is there for offer. i can sit in a motor boat and believe that i am chasing the sun. i can disrobe on the white beaches with only the rays of sun to bother me. feel undisclosed in a disclosed location. abandon the teeming billions that are left behind ,and that inhabit every minute of my life, the moment i board the plane.

what is it about casual romances? does a huge age difference really make that big a difference? dancing with strangers is fun. Especially if those strangers turn out to be suave and interesting men. The moments that give promises and projections that trick the mind completely and whole-heartedly. the abstractions cloud out the reality giving a fluffy touch to everything that i do.

noticing the sun set from the 64th floor of a building. salted pistachios and olives along with bitter vodka with the lights of the city just coming into focus from the heights of the stately tower in the city of the night dwellers.

touring the freak shows of the likes of the goblin market. playing abacus and hammer games at the bar table with shots at stake. smoking a cigarette with a beer in hand and pretending to be a causal observer. sex is a mere commodity here. women are up for grabs like meat pies or chicken loaves. nothing has a cost or a premium or a value. you are valued only if you trade in money.

but there are also vistas for those who care to notice. even if you are fully clad in a burqa with only the eyes unveiled. the emerald green waters are there for all. the bare white arms join the ones that are chestnut brown in the waters that are blue as sapphire. songs in Chinese language are cheered upon and new bonds are forged.

Unpublished Drafts

Is it loneliness that bugs me? Having lived alone, the parts that i have enjoyed the most have been the ones that have been spent in transit. I wake up with dreams of my ex-boyfriend messing with my head. Its not pleasant. Maybe its too much of listening to the song Creep. But there is something about the remixed version done for the "Social Network" that really resonates with me.

Definitions

A word. It excites me. It brings me back to life.
A look. A look of appreciation, of understanding , an encouragement to share more words. A look is what I hark for and after.
A smile. An easy smile which brings a twinkle in my eye and leads to mirthless laughter.
A sense of danger is what I want to surrender to and feed the vulnerability to. The hurt does not matter and neither does the disfiguration. The fear is not the fall from the edge. The fear is the endless wait on the precipice. The fear is not of the disjointed sentences or the groping for words. The fear is of waking up and being unable to speak.

visiting old selves

i wanted to hold it. feel the last whiff of the cold wind on my bare skin. i wanted to remember the bone numbing chillness. the complete defenselessness against the harsh winter. i wanted to get lost in the fog and float in the mist.

i walked with the cold December wind in my hair and with a cigarette in my lips. the fog faded everyone out. i felt the iciness settle on my finger tips as i tried to take another puff. the chill crept into my very being. numbing every thought and every feeling.

i tried to breathe and saw the warm circles of air being eaten up. the burning end of the cigarette was the only beacon of light in the darkness of the night. the hissing sound of the burning cloves absorbed my senses and sweetened my frosty lips.

it was the beginning of my trip back home.

Nike. Just Do It

Its 3 am in the morning. My eyes have never felt heavier. The alcohol drugs my mind and senses. I talk less and laugh more. I make the connection with my eyes and sense a willing smile and an inquisitive glance. Eager to take a ride, I agree to venture out on a drive. In the midst of the drive, under the pretext of being co-travelers, he asks me if age defines certain parameters in life for me.

We reach the destination. He stands in front of me with his face close to mine. I can almost feel him on me. Soon he roves into regions unexplored. My eyes unable to focus any longer shut out on the reality. I am floating in the air with the dizziness caused by the absence of ground beneath my feet. His stubble leaves marks on my face. And his perfume lingers on my body. It passes like a haze.

We leave. And then I hear him sing. His full throated and raw voice reaches out to my numbed senses and I cant stop myself from making a contact with him. I want to touch to remember the embrace. The hands that make music and bring a life into an instrument stroke mine..

It ends in a haze. I have only the memory of voice and touch and remnants of perfume to remember him by. He had asked me earlier in the evening if I believed in the brand Nike. It said just one thing, said he. That was "Just Do It"

First Date

Its so difficult to put yourself out there. Mark yourself as available and then wait for the judgement to be passed. You are to try to smile to hide the anxiety and excitement. You are expected to come up with witty answers to hypothetical questions. There is a lingering gaze that you cannot return hence you look away after every few seconds. You would love the conversation to just flow instead you realize that the speed of your finishing your drink is faster than the speed at which the words come out of your mouth. There are comments on your good looks. You try to reciprocate but find it hard to say the same things to the other person. You talk about the common passions and the possibility of discovering new places together. It thrills you to see the readiness with which you can make a companion of this stranger.

You are told that you are too shy because what you have not been able to do is to meet that unending gaze. It hits you hard when you realize that you have suddenly turned into porcelain. That suddenly you are so fragile. There is that touch of his fingers brushing yours back. You want to soak in that feeling but you are not able to express because that gaze still lingers. You want to retort with the same flirtatious remarks but are not able to understand what holds you back. Its time to pay the bill and head back.

He holds you close to him as he escorts you to his car shielded by an umbrella against the rain. The moment you sit inside the car he cups your hands. You are trying to make sensible conversation but at the same time try to stall the time. So that he can hold your hand longer. You want that fuzzy feeling to go on. You reach the end too fast than you would have liked to. You realize that he wants to go one step further but something holds him back. You can hear him breathing hard. Breathing in your perfume. You try to give the signals too. But they are too weak to reach him. He just hugs you and gives you a peck on your cheek and you are away.

The moment the car vanishes, you crave for the attention and missed opportunities. You blame yourself for being prudent and not making yourself available. It hits you hard when you get a message that says that you were too shy to take the peck on the cheek as a hint for what could have come. Maybe you should have had those extra drinks as suggested by him to lose the inhibitions. You wonder at the missed opportunities and reply back by saying that the chances should have been taken by him when they were to be had. You further send more messages describing what you would have liked to happen. Even more messages are sent by you when you have finally flown back to other side of the country in the hope that something would elicit a response.

Except for silence nothing happens. You sit in your apartment going over the whole sequence again and again, wishing you could change the end as it came. You stalk the social networking sites to see if he is woken up from the slumber. But there are no signs of activity. The phone no longer flashes with his name on it. Utterly loser like and miserable is how you feel. You have a gnawing feeling inside you that probably being alone is how you will end up to be.

Missing them so much

I miss the attention. It feels strange to have finally stepped out of the house. Its been days since i felt the touch of my parents. Its going to be longer still before I will actually get to see them. The familiar sounds of pressure cooker's whistle blowing at all hours of the day, the cacophony created by the radio that was turned on for allmost as long as my mother worked around in the house is missed. The sound of my mother coughing while cleaning, the distinct sound of footsteps of each member of the family.

Each day is started with a renewed resolve to see it through. 26 years of staying and living with someone and then moving on to lead a life of her own in the unknown. I seek solace in my house's bedsheets that i still carry from home because the linen has the same comforting smell and the same comforting feel.

I miss looking at the faces, fighting with them and making up with them. I know now why they say that there is no place like home. Its what all that you have left behind. I seek independence from the supposed ties and yet it is these ties whose knot I am not able to unravel. There is no one to ask you for all the hours in a day if you have eaten and if you would like to eat more. No one to hold your back or to listen to your cribs. Independence comes at a cost.