She's all that!

She is a cat! She hasn’t lost her wild instincts. She defies rules because rules are made for dogs. Ask her to sit, stay, run; she will ask you back, “Why?” And if you persist, she will still do what her will says. She lives in the society, but is wary of any new member. She is a social animal, but she likes to be by herself. She is independent, you forgot to feed her? Never mind, she’s caught herself a meal anyway. She has claws, she hides them well. If you pet her nice, she will purr, but only for so long as she wishes. If she doubts you, or if you are not doing it right, you remember the claws? She is free, she is the queen of her world!

She is a rock, a mountain. A big one. Immovable, small things don’t matter much to her.

She has jewels and precious minerals inside her, but she hates it when people want to come in with the intent to take it all away. People who come near her, try to dig caves and tunnels, but she won’t let them, like insides are just for her. She’d throw rocks at them if they try to.

Those closest to her are rivers. They are around her, they may shape a few of her curves, but they don’t get to seep deep into her. At times, she may feed them with some water, but not always.

She is a volcanic mountain, insides are boiling with so many things and ideas that keep her unstable. But from outside, she is snow-capped. She looks so cool. And her majestic nature makes her beautiful and at the same time intimidating.

And when there is a drizzle on that mountain, and the sun shines, there is a sweet smile in the form of a rainbow.

She is a free thinker. She has a crazy imagination. If she wished, she’d make her own world of fantasy! Where you could play drums in a library, where cars would run on water, where zebras would be spotted, where rainbows would have a million shades, where she could be a magician, where the moon would be triangular, where grown-ups would be kids, where children would never cry…

She is real, and her fantasies are real. She needs to know this, and she will… One day...

Cross my heart. Not!

At first he was skeptical. Often when she had called him urgently, her talks were intimidating and that ended up making everything awkward. Not that she was condescending but she was realistic, practical. And that was his worst fears. And so today when she said she wanted to talk, he was scared, for he knew not what new blast of reality he would have to brave.

He reached the old fort and waited. She called on his phone to know where he was and minutes later, he saw her.

He hated these moments. No actually he dreaded them. How could he hate any moments spent with her. When he saw her, she beamed a smile at him and he knew things were different today. His fear was slowly evanescing. After a brief hug, they sat at their regular bench, gazing out at the city lights starting to come up. She eventually broke the silence around the birds returning home and the sun going down.

She had come up with an idea, a thought. And she wanted to tell him about it directly, tête-à-tête. Not on a phone call, nor through texts. She said, "You know, I don't know what we are doing with our lives." These words made the ghost of his fears start to materialize again. But she continued, "When in my teens, I would chat with my friends and all of us would believe in the happily ever after story. That all things will be good. That true love was not just true and pure, but also flawless, impeccable. Like Walter White's meth." Although that drew a laugh between them, he was not sure where this was going.

She said, "I would think me and my love, we would be like parallel lines. Always together."

He interrupted, "But parallel lines never meet?"

She replied, "Yes, but they are always heading the same way. Okay, imagine that the lines are parallel but they are only a teeny tiny distance apart."

He nodded his approval waiting for a glimpse of clear skies to know where they were heading.

She continued, “But you see, as I grew up, as life started turning from rainbow to shades of grey, I realized those parallel lines don’t exist. It’s an irrational thought.

“But then, you would not want to be intersecting lines too. Along all the paths that they tread on, they meet just once, only to move further away from each other after that. I have had such an experience. Sometimes you wish things were different, sometimes you feel it was necessary. Believe me the few moments that you are closest are the best that one can have, then there is the intersection and parting forever. Here, life does not ask you questions. It is you ask those. Bombard life with questions like: why did this happen, when will this happen, why is he not with me, why did our paths cross in the first place? But are there any set of lines which you would want to be?

“I would always ponder over until this afternoon. This afternoon, I found out what it is between us. You know, we are like the Sine and Cosine waves of the same amplitude, and our wavelengths like totally match. At most times, travelling parallel, then we intersect, and after some moments of bending and mending our ways, we run parallel again. And this goes on and on… Forever…”

He did not know what to say. His confused face made her repeat, “We’re like Sine wave and Cosine wave, parallel at most times, yet intersecting at times infinite!”

He still failed to understand why he was called there to meet with this level of urgency. He did not understand her at times, at times she was a riddle. But if she was the Riddler, he was no Batman, he was just her man!

Fall, flow or undulate?

Water! It falls, it flows, it undulates!

Aksha sat looking out of the window. The pouring rains and their pitter-patter on the roof. The drops bouncing off the floor and sprinkling droplets on his glasses. The occasional roar of the thunder. He liked the monsoon. He liked sipping coffee as he wrote. Somehow the monsoons inspired him. Always.

He heard the door bell and got up to open it. His silly friends were here. Complaining how wet clothes were pain in the ass. And how getting an auto in the rains was a task better left to the man from the land of Uz, Job, known for his patience! Sohni entered with her dripping umbrella and placed it on the window grills. Urjit had a beaming face perhaps because Sohni was irritated. Aksha never tried to understand their relation. They were the best friends. He would not speak much, Sohni would never stop talking, and Urjit would make sure that she never stopped. Yet, they were the best lot there could be. They didn't have a lot in common but that is what was different!

Aksha could not keep hearing the complaints Sohni had about the rains. He smiled at her and she knew he did not agree with her. Aksha’s mom got them chai and Sohni sipped it intermittently as she spoke.
“Come on Aksha, I know you like rains, I do too but not when I am in the city. I hate them here. I’d rather just go away from here and sit in the greenery out there. But our work won’t allow us right? Isn't that everyone’s story?”

Aksha replied, “I don’t know. I like it everywhere. It’s the same water. Same way of coming down. Here or away from here.”

Urjit interjected the rather few words that Aksha was anyways going to say. “I like the sea.”

Sohni looked at him with confusion. “Where is that coming from? I mean what has the sea got to do with the rains?” After a very brief pause during which Urjit could only move his jaw once, she said, “If you are going to say ‘water cycle’ and talk about evaporation and precipitation, I’d say keep the crap to yourself!”

With a wry grin, Urjit replied, “I meant the sea is good. Vast, never ending, and lets my imagination go wherever it wants.”

Sohni wouldn't let him talk more. “Ah! In that sense, I like rivers. Not the big, slow ones, but the rapid ones, the ones that provide rhythm to my flute. I just love to play flute by the banks of the Beas. I can never get over the Beas. It’s hands down the best thing I have ever seen or heard. It can be scary and it can be welcoming too. Its water can be chilly, but it is tempting to walk into it, wet your feet and take an occasional dip! Whatever you say I will always like it!”

Urjit liked her reply. But he hadn't finished making his point earlier. “It’s such a blissful feeling to be sitting on a beach with a nice book; I can paint the canvas with any colors I want! Staring into emptiness, taking me beyond my vision, beyond the horizon!”

Aksh loved to see them fight! But he never interfered. A smile was all he could wear!

Sohni had a point to make. “Oh, but sea does not support life! Okay, I mean in the conventional sense. It’s salty. You can’t open your eyes when you take a dip in it.”

“Aasu bhi to namkeen hote hai! (So are tears.) Somehow the salty water in my eyes gives me all those feelings. I don’t know. It’s not that I don’t like rivers, but I just can’t think of the anything else that can beat the magnificence of the ocean.”

Sohni replied, “Ha ha! A sailor went to sea, to see what he could see. And all that he could see, was sea, sea, sea! Can’t you get bored of it? A river is so much like our lives. Each bend is different. With each twist it changes course. All the places it flows through just bloom! It’s different!”

Aksha looked out the window. The downpour was reduced to a drizzle now. The healthy bickering of his buddies died out as he heard the chirping of the sparrow beating its wings to dry itself off. The sun peeked from the dark clouds. The writer in him needed no more inspiration…

Khidki par girti in berang boondon ko dekhke sochta hu, kitni berang hai zindagi,
Fir suraj ki kirano ki tarah badalon ke peeche se tumhari muskaan nazar aati hai.
Zindagi ke aasmaan par satrangi indra-dhanush nikhar aata hai…

Roughly translated:
(As I look at the colorless droplets on the window, I cannot help but compare it to my bland life.
Then, out of the dark clouds, the sun shines, just like your smile!
And on the canvas of life, appears a prismatic rainbow!)