A walk to remember.

No, this is not a review of the book by the same name that Nicholas Sparks wrote. What would be a walk to remember is my question. Like in the book ( If you’ve read it because, I haven’t watched the movies ), would it be one where Jamie Sullivan walks with her father down the aisle while suffering from cancer? Though that isn’t everyone’s story, what would be a walk to remember for all the mundane people around? 

For a high schooler it could be the walk after the last exam in senior year. It could be the walk home from work for a person just over 60 and retiring.  It could be the walk into somewhere peaceful after deployment for soldier. It might be the last class for a teacher or surgery for a doctor. It could be the last stroll with you dog. Or a walk to the walk with your loving grandparents who buy you candies or icecreams by the end of the walk. For a mother, it could be her child’s first few wobbling steps. For she, puts her child’s needs in front of her own.

It might be the first walk after amputation or a walk towards better lives. It could be the walk towards the grave of a loved one. Or a walk under rain where your tears could be masked. One might happen to remember all the walks in their lifetime and yet not have a favourite or memorable one.

But the one way walk towards infinity would be a walk to remember but, unfortunately it’s one walk we don’t get to remember.  Which gets me thinking how a walk to remember holds the possiblity of being the one you might not remember. Or that one walk you long to remember but has escaped your memory. The one you wish to hold on to forever but it fades away.

P.S. The picture is that of  cenotaphs at Bada Bagh in Jaisalmer, Rajasthan IN. They belong to the royal family.  Captured by yours truly back in 2012 or 13.

The barter at the devil’s hour

221B Grimmauld Palace,

Baker’s Stree,Borough of Isolation

Republic of Solitude – 007

Dear Now-a-fragment-of-my-imagination,

I’m sorry for all the mistakes and sins I’ve ever committed. I’m truly sorry and I promise that I shall learn from them and never commit such a sin. We all deserve second chances don’t we? And NO! Second chances do not mean that you scan me from top to toe with those scrutinising eyes of yours and search my nooks of my soul and my room. Yes, I am well aware that what I did wasn’t right. But that does not mean you punish my soul for it. My soul tried to make sure that I don’t lie to you. I convinced my teeth to bite my tongue and my hands to pinch my ears and I thought of lying to you. No this was not a spur of the momentire lie and yes, I was going to confess. Not immediately but soon. All I wished for is some more time. For,  I am not one of those several people who try to take a short cut just to escape the peril for a short time and then just commit to take several short cuts and get stuck in a world full of rat traps. I am one of those who needs a little time in the Republic of Solitude to come up with a way to overcome the peril. Oh! You wouldn’t understand it. My soul would cease to exist if at all I decided not to confess that I did lie.

I sometimes wonder if you ever lied! But, I’m well aware of them. Yet, I choose to keep quite because,  I believe you have you reasons. No one was ever made perfect.  Not even God’s favourite Faust. Like good ol’ Faust, I also seek and wish for things. But, unlike him I shalt not sell my soul to the devil and end up serving in the lava filled he’ll as he did. For, I would burn from the boiling lava my soul throws my way if I ever sold it.But, I shall barter it with the devi at the devil’s hour as I write the play by play for you to see I’m a better version of a person than I seem to be at the moment in front of your scrutinising eyes. I’m bartering my abilities to commit sins, procrastinate and give into certain unhealthy guilty pleasures in order to obtain my goals and dreams. And unlike Faust, both my gods and my devils stand by me. He wishes me well and locls hia newly aquired possessions deep down in his dungeons for those, are his rightful pleasures or so he says. Also, I’m postivery that he doesn’t wish to have a  borderline OCD slave working in his lava pool and complaining how molten and solidified lava shul not mix.

I know that my minutes here in the Republic of Solitude are numbered. As I’m about to leave the devil calls my name. He makes anot her promise that, If at all I don’t look towards my older habits, he shall talk to his friend called death and provide me with the cloak of invisibility. I step back into out world where your eyes shall surely scan me again hearing the wishes of both my gods and my devils. I thank them for one last time. I shall hide the key but, never use it. It’s one of the promises that I wouldn’t dare to break.

Yours sincerely, 

Hope and determination.

Dearest “epiphany”,

Dearest “epiphany”  or whatever else you wish to be called,

Why? Why do we meet after 1AM most nights? Why do you leave me after the clock ticks past 11 AM or as on after I have breakfast?

Am I not worthy of the company? Or am I a mere pawn in your chess game play?  Let me know, because I may have been silly to fall for you once. But, I’m not stupid enough to make the mistakes again. Oh you think I should be thanking you for the dreams you show me? NO ! Not again. You show me how nice the end goal is, IF only I follow the path meticulously. But don’t you think I’m on the path of disaster just because of your visits?

Well news flash my dear, I’m breaking up with you. I have an actual life to live. I waste my time thinking with you while I could have been actually working towards it. My days towards the goal are now numbered. I want to make it count. Whatever we had is now over. Sometimes I wonder if it was “something” to you. But now I’ve gotten to be friends with reality and future. And I’ll let you know that they are far better than you. I don’t need your false hopes anymore. I’m more than just your late night call. I’m me. Not another xyz. 

I shall now bid you goodbye. Thankyou, for you made me realise what I need and wany.  Sorry that you are neither of them. I promise that this is for the better. I shall wrote to you when I’be accomplished my goals. That shall take sometime but, it shall be a walk to remember.  Well it shall be more than a walk. It is going to be a path to remember. 

I hope you don’t make the same mistakes twice. After all your clock is all so ticking. Just like everyone else’s. 

Here’s your final adieu.

Yours sincerely,

AB

A day without you.

I wonder every now and then,

About the times before we aquainted

Hazy visons you’d call it back then,

But maybe the memories are now tainted.

It’s been what? six or seven? maybe eight years !

I don’t care anymore about that mere number,

Because, the only time we’re apart is when I’m in deep slumber.

Yet you stay aside ready when I wake up.

Years changed and so did we

From hate to love and back and forth

You’d always be around ,

Yet I’d search for you so often.

Sorry dearest spectacles, for the initial days I hated you.

Yours truly,

Knowing that, this relationship shall not be ending any time soon.

Meet Harmony Haiter.

Tired and sick of every thing around

Harmony Haiter took up on a walk

Oh what joy this is!

The blazing sun after the colourful spring,

The dry spell after the cold heartless days,

The dry lifeless saplings planted expecting rains,

The ruthless war after serene nights!

Exclaimed harmony Haiter now by the bridge.

And here I wondered if you were a Misopolemist, said the silhouette.

That’s sarcasm my dear, was her mere reply

The silhouette could now only smile,

Yes, I’m aware. Just didn’t expect it from you she replied before retrearing to the world of impossible.

Hello! This is another attempt at poetry around a small wordplay and yet another late night spark. I may happen to not like it once the sun rises. But none the less, it would be cowardly to not make an attempt.

P.S. Read Harmony Hater if at all you didn’t catch it.

Constructive criticism always welcome. After all  in the words of Philippe Destouches,

Criticism is easy, Art is difficult.

The art of cutting queues.

​Old or young, small or gigantic, detailed or abstract, melodious or monotonous, art in art in all forms can be appreciated and admired. But,  there’s one specific kind that I couldn’t even fathom admiring. Not no wand surely not in my wildest dreams. Instead I’d rather take pride in appreciate the sound of nails or chalk screeching. I’m sure my over enthusiastic and out of tune singing skills or a child’s scribes are far more marvellous.

What is this art that I’ve acquired so much hate for ? Oh for goodness sake, it’s the art of cutting queues or lines. This happens almost everywhere. In line at the banks, grocery stores, clothing stores and railway stations. They claim to have come before you even if you’re the first one. They don’t budge and are ready for a verbal fight. The try to potray a woman wrong if at she’s the one pointing out an idiot who skipped the queue.
I wonder if it’s stupidity , ignorance or just plain disrespect for the rules. Is there some felecitation for these deligated and highly qualified rule breakers ? Or is it self satisfaction obtained after breaking rules.  Yes, I’ll always wonder how it feels to skip one but, I don’t think I could ever muster up the courage to do so. Call me scared or whatever else you can come up with. The only way I can defy those words would be with my respect for rules and regulations.
Until next time!

Never around .

Each night, she’d dream everyone repeatedly asking her ” Why do you repeat the lines be there or be square?” 

Every day she’d wake up replying “Because , you’re never a-round”.

Hello dearest lovely reader of mine! I’m sorry. Yes sorry.

Sorry that you had to endure this pun.

Beacuse, someone like me can have a rather pathetic and pun-tastic pun.