Then. Now. And how...

Then. Now. Both the words having significant meaning. But when the two are put together, their implication gets multiplied by proportions soaked in years. OK, let’s do a quick reality check of my life gone by:

THEN: Orange flavoured ice candy
NOW: Chocolate shake topped with lavish helpings of ice cream

THEN: Hero BMX
NOW: ROKR E6 with the ‘snoop’, 2GB memory with touch-screen interface and 'a host of other features'

THEN: Tom & Jerry
NOW: The Matrix

THEN: A black and red pair of Bata Bubblegummers
NOW: A black and red pair of Pumas

THEN: Gully cricket
NOW: Pocket tanks

THEN: I love you Rasna
NOW: Cheers to a Kingfisher beer

THEN: Dictionary/Dad
NOW: Google

THEN: Lunch box
NOW: Pepperoni cheese pizza

THEN: Poem recitation
NOW: Pfaffing

THEN: Coins jingling in the pocket
NOW: Credit card swipes

THEN: Camlin HB pencils
NOW: Logitech Keyboard

THEN: Pocket money
NOW: Paycheque

THEN: Mental arithmetic
NOW: Business/category understanding

THEN: Teacher
NOW: Boss

THEN: Family dinners
NOW: Pubs & nightclubs

THEN: Winter vacation
NOW: Weekend

THEN: 'Happy birthday' parties
NOW: Night-outs

THEN: Friends
NOW: Relationships

THEN: Parents
NOW: Career

THEN: Innocence
NOW: Ignorance

I guess life was much much simpler then than it is now...

Should I wait?

Someone gave me a bittersweet smile. Like an angel just made a pact with the devil to take over both the good and the bad in me. To leave me with a blank expression and a confused state of mind. I remember I was so clear in the head till a few moments ago. And now I was left with only one thought as the light faded away and the darkness took me closer and closer to sleep - will the angel and the devil meet again so that someone greets me with that bittersweet smile one more time?

The missing link

I just took a shower. No, not in my bathroom but out in the balcony. It was raining outside. The downpour took away all my worries. So what if it was just a fleeting 15 minutes of my life? For these 15 minutes, I was one with the drizzle. The raindrops seeped into my pores filling me with life sent from the heavens. Just for 15 minutes. And then it stopped and I heard a whisper in my mind asking me to go inside and sleep so that others could also soak in some life. But before I say goodnight, I’d urge you to step out into the balcony or the street or your backyard or wherever. Just step out into the open and wet yourself crazy. Do it because there are others waiting behind you. Because if you don’t, they might be deprived of a chance to taste life…

A storm in the head

My thoughts are spread over the vast horizon of my mind like expansive clouds. I wish it would start raining now and flood the whole street so I could make a paper-boat and clap in joy as it rushes down the stream. Make another one. But this one does a flip flop maneuver and yields to the storm, leaving me soaked in a dismayed smile. You pass my way and ask me what I was doing. I tell you that I was gazing into my future - that I could reach glory and sink or sink even before I take the first step. You think how undecided I am. I laugh at you thinking that my life is so simple; I have only two choices to make…

I write…

Because I’ve always written. I’ve written on notebooks for the fear of my teachers. I’ve written on the walls of the school toilet as rebellion against the teachers. I’ve written on chits of paper to pass them on to friends and chat while a class was going on. I’ve written in crisp white answer-sheets in an exam to stay in the same grade as my friends so I could chat with them. I’ve written on my batchmates’ shirts for pranks. I’ve written my first girlfriend’s name on my hand for all the ‘seriousness’. I’ve written on important documents belonging to my Dad for ignorance. I’ve written a single sentence a hundred times on the blackboard for education. I’ve written on a faded old pair of jeans to make a smart statement. I’ve written on paper napkins to hand out my mobile number to pretty young things and make a fool of myself. I’ve written on window panes frosted by the cold winters and on muddy car windshields to kill time. At my grandfather’s orchard, I’ve written with a piece of charcoal to mark wooden cases filled with apples to show I could work. I’ve written with a trickling line of water on a polished jet black granite kitchen shelf waiting for the food to be served. I’ve written on a slice of bread with ketchup to eat. I’ve written on a mirror with my mother’s lip gloss for the sheer fun of it. I’ve written on freshly laid cement for permanence. I’ve written on the wet sand with a stick for a change. I’ve written because it gives me a high. I’ve written for I believe in writing my own destiny…