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I have met some who

Make me feel like I have met them before

As if they are little edited versions

Of the ones I used to know

I have known those who

Charm and disarm

But their few little tricks

Interest me for a bit and then no more

As with practice

Even the finest tricks seem a little bore

I have seen those who

Shock and surprise

With their obvious deception and lies

And leave me wondering

Whether they have a conscience

Although there have also been a few

Who are honest to a fault

And while I love their clear hearts

I wonder how they survive

Maybe luck lets the good ones thrive?

I have known few who are blinded by

Various versions of silliness

Imagined or acquired

They bump blindly

Into these maze of restricted possibilities

Not knowing how their biases

Blind them at every turn

And create walls

That just don’t need to be.

I have luckily known few

Who in spite of the different worlds they lived in

Somehow stand out,

In thought and in behavior

In soul and in action

The brightest they could be

The ones who held on to righteous instinct

In spite of their stubborn worlds pushing them

Right against it.

I have known those with a curiously

Infinite ability to love and forgive

With a heart of gold and a tongue so sweet

That it could soften a rock if it decided to.

I have met those with

Determinations so strong and dreams so high

That they convinced me they could capture the sky.

I have met

With shocking beauty

And equally shocking flaws

And sometimes,

I have met them together

In the same person

But the ones I treasure the most

Are the ones whom I meet

And all I can think of

Is how scared am I at the mere thought

Of losing them

Even if for a little while.

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I know, I know, it doesn't rhyme :( But I tried. And spectacularly failed :P. But I like it the way it is so posted it anyway :P.

Hope you like it.

Let me know what you think ... :)

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Troubles

Welcome :)

This is the fifth part in a set of stories.

If you want to check out the previous parts, below are the links-

One - 'Cheers'

http://thetiltedkaleidoscopechronicles.blogspot.in/2013/08/cheers.html

Two - 'Cheers 2'

http://thetiltedkaleidoscopechronicles.blogspot.in/2014/09/cheers-2.html

Three - 'Stunned'

http://thetiltedkaleidoscopechronicles.blogspot.com/2015/02/stunned.html

Three - 'Twenty-Five'
http://thetiltedkaleidoscopechronicles.blogspot.com/2015/11/twenty-five.html

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I just stare at the ring for what seems like an infinite amount of time. A thousand thoughts rush through my head. I try to convince my over-imaginative brain different explanations of what I see, trying to push away any optimistic thought on this.

He is a friend. He speaks his mind. Always. What makes you think he wanted to ask you for your hand in holy matrimony and that he simply discarded the idea? This is not a Jane Austen novel. And that is not the way he is. This is not how these things work. People usually have special grand ways to do this stuff. They invite you to quiet dinners in pocket-money-emptying restaurants and have a couple of violinists play while you cry over a fortune cookie which has just revealed the ring, or a champagne glass which shows the circular piece of metal with something shiny on it. They go to beaches walking hand in hand when suddenly someone decides to go down on one knee, look you in the eyes with the sincerest of emotion and pop the question. They show up from nowhere when you are in a different city and recite beautiful words from your favorite books before sheepishly bringing out a ring from their pocket. This is totally not the same situation. You accidentally found the ring. The ring which simply has a mysterious story. But you don’t need to go all Sherlock Holmes about it.

After a while of giving myself these explanations, I realized I am picturing my silly friend in these situations. I tell myself this thought process needs to stop now. It can wait for later. I could always ask him what the ring means some other day. Today is my day. It need not be marred by this interesting object which means nothing, for it is just there lying on the table. Besides, maybe my eyes are playing tricks for all I know. Maybe the symbol on the ring is similar to the one that I saw inside the box, but not the same.

‘Almika?’

You might have noticed my sudden absence in the living room, so you call out loudly. I return, thoughts in place, but confusion still etched on my face.

The symbol was the same though. This is no hallucination. What does this mean?

‘Are you alright?’ you ask slowly.

‘Ya I am fine’

‘You do realize that’s just a beauty spot. One doesn’t worry about such things’ you bring up our conversation about my last imperfection in your list of my twenty five imperfections for my twenty fifth birthday.

‘Yes, I know. I am not thinking about it’

‘Then come over here, let’s sit. Let’s talk’ I walk gingerly into the living room, expecting you sitting there calmly but half hoping the band of violinists.

‘I feel like going home.’ I notice the absolute absence of violins and people who know how to play them.

‘What happened Almika?’ you ask now with genuine concern.

‘Nothing at all’

‘Then why do you look so serious? Is anything bothering you? Was the letter too much? Was the cake too much? Is it something I did?’

‘No, it’s not about you.’ I lie.

I don’t know why, I can’t shake off my confusion. It is a silly ring. It could have actually belonged to the box, and you simply wanted to use the box to surprise me. But I feel disappointed. I imagined you would act surprised when I entered the room. That you would allude to the ring in some way. That you would make it very clear that it wasn’t placed there by accident. That it may not really mean what rings usually mean, but that it did mean something, maybe a token of friendship? I don’t know what I want it to mean. But in spite of your letter, the sweetest letter anyone has ever given me, I want more. I had it all played out in the extremely amazing slow seconds when I saw that shiny metal - you and me in a nice place, you asking me the most flattering question a guy could ask a girl, I just didn’t play out the part where I respond something. For I don’t know what I would respond. But it feels bad we never got to that part. What feels worse is that I want something I don’t want to want. It’s ridiculous. But that’s what’s making me act so silly - like someone on a radical mood swing, someone who confuses and frustrates you.

I realize I have been just standing there thinking all this while you stare at me. Somewhere I even noticed you going to the kitchen, maybe to clean up. You have returned now, but you still see me standing on the same spot like some stunned animal. Does turning twenty-five change people and turn them into victims of their own imaginations and feelings? I hope not, though I feel convinced about it, in this moment. I was better off with my quarter life crisis and FOMO than this mess of thoughts.

Damn you stupid ring.

‘Almika, I think we should talk’ you say again with concern etched on your face. I feel your concern is justified, but I am sure if I tell you what’s on my mind, you would be more concerned.

‘Almika, sit’

I follow what you say in a daze. I think I am not good at keeping secrets. At least from you. But I’ll try.

‘Here have some water’ you hand me the long glass you just filled when returning from the kitchen. I notice you are acting like a parent acts with a child. I don’t question you. I drink the whole thing promptly, in one go.

‘So, tell me, how are you feeling?’ I can sense you are trying to make eye contact. But I am trying to look everywhere in the room other than at you.

‘I am fine’

‘Ok’ you say, with obvious doubt lacing your tone. You sit a little closer, not knowing that may be just making me less fine in the long run.

‘Look at me please’ you say again. I don’t know what I’ll do if I look at you. Your eye contact is intimidating yet gentle. It always feels like you are reading my mind and yet soothing it while knowing everything. I don’t want to look at you but I need to. And I have to, for I can’t think of appropriate words to communicate what I am feeling. I just want to ask you who does the ring belong to, but I don’t want to hear your answer. I finally avert my gaze from studying the shiny spot in the room created by the reflected glass of your watch and look at you.

‘Tell me, what happened, honestly?’ you say in an almost whisper.

‘I just felt a little …’ I leave the words hanging.

‘Felt a little what?’

‘Different about things.’

‘What things?’

I wonder how do people express what they truly feel in their heart? How you get past that lump in your throat, that hesitance and fear? How do you turn off the total self-control where you clutch closely the most tender thoughts you have and act even for a moment like it wouldn’t matter if it hurt? I wonder how people do that. For in this moment, even though I debate so furiously, nothing in me makes me get past myself. My eyes might give away a little of what I feel so deeply, but somehow, I just feel like stretching on to what I have. For I know, if pulled beyond capacity, the best of bonds can break. I don’t know why doing life threatening bungee jumps comes so naturally to me, but something this easily feels impossible.

‘I feel different about things in that I see that you can actually write in legible handwriting, which is just shocking!’ I say finally.

Yes, I may have turned a year older today, but I have not yet adopted a mature way to communicate. I turn the one single opportunity to be honest about what I feel about you into a joke. And a lame one at that. I don’t expect you to laugh, but you still do.

‘Ok okay, but I am sure there’s something else on your mind, and you have to promise me to talk about it the next time’ you say. I know you wouldn’t buy what I said, but at least I have got you off topic. I look at you again, and the simple way you gaze at me, and I find myself forgetting about the ring.

It doesn’t matter.

It seems silly in retrospect. To expect more when you have got enough. For the moment at least.

‘What are you looking at kiddo?’

‘When did I become kiddo?’

‘Since last night. Answer my question first. What are you looking at? You are staring into my eyes an inappropriate amount of time’ you say in your mock scolding tone.

‘You just answered your own question. And no amount of time is inappropriate. And this is my standard staring time at people. You should know that by now.’

‘Okay creepy girl’

‘It’s my birthday. You don’t get to call me creepy’

‘Blah blah blah blah.’

‘Go away silly guy’

‘You will miss me if I do’

‘No I won’t’

‘Are you sure?’ you ask with that smirk.

‘We’ll see’ and with that you scoot further towards me and ruffle my hair. Not that it was much unruffled to begin with. Sometimes I feel like a pet with your body language around me. I like it though.

Oh dear sweetest friend of mine. How I wish I could tell you in this moment how much you mean to me? But I’ll sit, and I’ll wait, and I’ll see us drift apart. For I don’t know how to be with someone. I never have. You have taught me a little more about how to be with someone and not mess it up. Thank you for that.

I think this as I act nonchalant while you treat me like your pet. Turns out, growing older has taught me to stay away from troubles. Even when they are sitting right beside me, as oblivious as they can be.

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Hope you enjoyed reading ! :) 

Better Versions

I look at that glint of an escaping tear

The tear shed for another and not for the self

I listen to the quiet, sweet words spoken out of profound emotion

An emotion that I am a stranger to



I sense the sweet unconditional care and beauty

In the most random places in bonds I don’t understand

When I meet a pure soul

I sense a depth of emotion, fondness and unconditional acceptance

And wallow in my guilt

As I look within and try to find something which

Tries to do justice to what is received

But all I find is nothing, but emptiness

All I feel is a distinct loss of something

That I don’t even remember I had



There are a few moments of truth in this vacuum though

Where with reason and logic everything makes sense

Where every lack of emotion can hold responsible

Someone, something or some time

When maybe I expected too much and got too little

Until slowly the little which was gotten was ignored as nothing at all



But the guilt doesn’t accept this

The conscience doesn’t accept logic

When it has deluded itself into fantasies

Where one must be perfect

Irrespective of these ‘someones’ and ‘somethings’ that happen to us



So I wallow again in my guilt

And I crawl back into my shell

And learn to fake just as we all do

The sentiments we think we should have had inside

Although all we find when we try to find that place

Is a hollow emptiness

The nothingness whose existence deprives us

Of what we wish to be

And whose blackness just makes me wish

To paint a million better versions of me

If only I knew what the colors look like

And where they come from

I would know how to.

Picture perfect :D

I have been meaning to post something personal for a while. For as much as I love writing stories, there’s something to be said about truly connecting with someone who reads. And I feel I haven’t done that since a loooong time, well since http://thetiltedkaleidoscopechronicles.blogspot.com/2014/12/7-things-i-learnt-about-people.html at least. And because I cannot think of anything specific on my mind to write about and publish (not that there’s nothing to talk about, it’s just the opposite. There’s so much, it is tough to pick a topic and dissect it into portions which I don’t mind talking about and then somehow making it interesting enough, at the end of which I realize the juiciest/ funnest stuff is something I would rather not publish to a public forum :P ) 

So I will make this a sort of collection of pictures, each of which have some significance to me. Clichéd as it may be, pictures speak a thousand words now, don’t they :D. So below are some pictures of places, people and things which hold a story, an emotion or something special which I treasure : 

Claimer: Everything in this post is based on real events, people and places. Any relation to a work of fiction is entirely intended as an attempt to make things as awesome as they are in fiction :P.

This is a sunset view from my Hyderabad office. It reminds of the innumerable walks with so many different people around this place. I guess there is something about that path, it just makes everyone reveal stories and spill secrets unheard before :P. The beauty of that time and place and people is almost incomparable to that of this picture.

Introducing Harsh Parmar and Yash Parmar. These two are literally few of the coolest people I know. Especially the smaller-looking one. Don’t go by his age. I haven’t seen anyone below 10 possessing the amount of maturity and wisdom this guy has. (well, many people above 20 also don’t possess it :P ) Genuinely, I feel inspired by him to be a better person. I haven’t been to a counselor ever, but I have a gut feeling that 10 minutes with Mr. Yash Parmar is better than 10 sessions with the best counselor. He is a super cool and smart person. And the guy on the left, him too. Both together, they are my dream team.

This is one of the unforgettable sunsets. The sunset was preceded by events which led to more significant events. (I like the pic basically, and I am just trying to add a story :P)  Reminds me of some people I used to work with, the fun we had, and well, the fact that Hyderabad has hidden beauty in unexpected places.

What’s special about this pic you ask? Well, I believed once upon a time that I could pack India and its memories and everything that I need to survive alone in general into these bags when leaving for the USA. Was I right about that? I don’t know. Still trying to find out ;)

This pic, is one of the first few pictures I took in Boulder, my current city. Beautiful isn’t it? Breathtaking even. (although I agree it’s a shame I haven’t hiked one of those mountains yet. I promise myself to do it every day and yet, here I am, typing away in my room instead of getting those shoes on. One day, one day for sure.)

I don’t know why I like this pic so much. I guess may be because of the sheer honesty of it. Good food, (specifically here… New York style cheesecake) makes me happy. Exhilarated really. It makes me feel ‘this is it, this is what life is about’ I guess I like that shameless admission evident from my expression :P. And this is just after one bite. Now you know how to make me happy ;) :P

This is Seattle’s Ferris wheel. While I prefer roller coasters (adrenaline junkie yeah !!), there’s something beautiful about seeing a city lit up like stars from over a hundred feet up in something which goes round and round. I hope to be here again someday, I remember being crazy happy that night and driving people mad by taking an insane amount of pictures. It was a super happy trip J It made me realize how much I love the craziness of cities and that no matter how beautiful they are - mountains with few people just don’t touch my heart as much as city lights and traffic do :P

(And this is why I say that about city lights and I guess this view demands taking insane amount of pictures :P)

Having said that about mountains, they do offer great views along simple walks. This is a place around few miles from my house and it is near a park. I love the color of the trees and that empty bench and sun between the mountains makes it look dreamy. It just makes you want to walk with someone you deeply connect with though. Family, friend, whoever touches your soul.

This is the first Halloween pumpkin I carved with a group of extremely talented and experienced carvers ;). There is so much fun involved in discovering a festival you only read about in books. This was one of the traditional things we did on Halloween. And while walking down the street singing loudly at midnight, entering random clubs which had interesting things going on and seeing hundreds of half intoxicated, crazily dressed up party people on the street was a different kind of fun altogether, I shall post this rather sober pic for now :P.

This is at dawn when we were returning from a normal party turned movie night with friends. Apart from the fact that it was so much fun that night, this was I think the first time we saw so much snow in Boulder, and it was stunning. Combined with the early morning rays glistening on the newly settled white layer, it was one of those sights where you can say ‘awesome’ and it isn’t just a hyperbole. Its reality. J

More snow!!!! Yawn right ? ;) But why this pic is special is because around this time there was a snowstorm and college was closed. Exams were cancelled!!! And this was the view from my window. Who knew an 8-year old’s dreams can come true. 

Well, this is the very first Christmas tree I helped decorate. And around this time, I learnt about gingerbread houses and heard the Grinch’s tale. Festivals are fun, no matter which part of the globe they come from isn’t it?

And this was taken around 00:00:00 1^st January 2016, Denver downtown. Never have I joined groups on the street dancing to music played on the streets to unknown songs (‘Shots shots shots shots’) and been crazily ecstatic even in 10 degree Fahrenheit. Well, there’s always a first, some firsts just happen to be on the first day of the new year. And by the way, to my left are my super cool friends – Vivek and Snehal. And behind me – some unknown souls bringing in the new year with rightful glee.

P.S : You may ask why no pictures after new year? Well, I guess I see more of books, classes, code, ppts, problems sets, projects, deadlines, submissions, academic papers, etc. than people and places….for its graduate school … and …its Spring semester :P. And it’s not exactly picture worthy yet unless you count in pictures of attempts at making delicious food :P. But more on that later.

Leave a comment below. And thanks for visiting!!! J

(And special thank you for the friends who made moments worthy enough to take pictures :) )

Dear Santa...

‘Maybe you should consider writing about how you have always wanted that coloring book with all the cartoons from Frozen’

‘That’s a good idea.’ She chirped excitedly.

‘But make sure you don’t crumple the letter while you insert it into that red sock. You don’t want Santa to open up a crumpled letter right?’

‘No no. I will also make little pink hearts around the borders. I want Santa to know I love him.’ She said, big eyes and tiny lips, the personification of cuteness, with some strange concern on her face.

‘Sweetie, he knows you love him. Don’t be so worried about it.’

‘No no mommy. All my friends, have made lists for Santa. It is not fair to him.’

‘Why do you think so dear?’

‘Because I think Santa should also get a gift. It is not fair we all make lists and not give him anything right?’

‘So what do you want to gift him?’

‘I don’t know’ she said with deep concern now. Her six year old mind was trying to think of something, anything, which would make up for the Frozen coloring book. But really, what did she have which was worth a big coloring book?

Nothing.

This worried her immensely now. How could she be so cruel? How could she ask Santa the book when all she had to give to him was a note with little pink hearts on the borders. Santa would have dozens of such little notes from so many children. What could she do to make hers a little special? What did he need?

‘Do you think he needs an extra pair of snow boots?’

‘No dear I think he is a big man, used to travelling in the cold. His current boots would be just okay’ her mother said.

‘I need to go get some work done dear, why don’t you prepare your pretty letter and let me know if you need any help. I’ll be in the study room’

‘Okay mommy.’

She was getting a bit restless now. What on earth could she gift him? The possibilities were endless, and yet there wasn’t a single thing she thought would make him happy. Her pencil set would be useless to him. He didn’t write letters, he just read them. The cookies mommy made may be a good gift, but she had heard something about not giving sweet things to fat people as they made them more fat. She had heard her mother’s friends talking about something like that. She didn’t want to make Santa more fat.

Mommy always told her being a good girl was all Santa needed. But really, mommy didn’t know anything. How would her being a good girl make Santa happy? He wasn’t even around to check. It seemed weird to gift him that.

She could try writing something more than a letter for him. A poem maybe. Not all children wrote poems in her class. They would be too lazy to even read poems sometimes. Maybe that would be unique. So she began her tiny scrawl in her note book.

She sat by the tiny cushiony table near the window and looked outside it. Inspiration was right there.

Christmas is white, snow is cold

The roads are freezing, Santa you are bold

She pondered what to write next. She looked at the tree and sparkly baubles which decorated it now. It reminded her of last year.

You always bring gifts

You always give joy

I remember how last year

You gave me my favorite toy

What more could she write? What would make Santa happy? Maybe telling him she wants to meet him?

‘Merry Christmas’ I want to greet

But oh dear, we never meet

Santa, I love you dearly

And I hope you know that by now, clearly

And you are my favorite person

And I wish we get to meet

Although I know that till now

You have only seen me asleep.

That sounded neat. She tore off the page carefully from the edge and placed it aside. Drawing little tiny pink hearts on the next page, she started writing her letter.

Dear Santa,

I hope you liked my poem for you. I just wanted to gift you something this Christmas. I know a poem is not a big gift. But I am not sure what you want. Can you make a list and give it to us next year. I will make mommy buy those gifts four you. She will listen two me. I know she will. If she does not, we will try something else. But I did not have yor list this time. So I made this poem. Yes, it is yor gift. Did you like it?

I want some things for Christmas. Mommy suggested a coloring book. I think I wood like it. I like the movie Frozen. Can you give me a coloring book with Frozen people on it. I will color it every day till every page is colored. I may need more blue crayons too. And grey and black and white ones also.

I know I need to be a good girl to get all this. But I have to tell you something. I tried to be a good girl as I promised everyone. But I could not do it once. It was Justin’s fault. Below is the story. You can skip it if you don’t want to forgive me.

I was at school and he tried to pull my pony tail. I told him to stop but he did not stop pulling. I hit him a little and he fell down. I promise that I hit him only a little and not more than a little. But he is smaller than me. So he fell down. He was crying. He told my teacher that I made him cry. The teacher called my mommy and his mommy and they talked about me and Justin. Justin has never talked to me after I hit him. I think I scared him. I told him am sorry I hit him. I didn’t know how to stop him from pulling my pony tail. But I have heard he still pulls pony tails of other people. All my friends ask me how to stop him. But I don’t tell them. I don’t know what to do Santa. My mother told he doesn’t have common sense. I don’t know what that is. Can you give Justin some common sense. Maybe if you give him he will stop.

That’s what I did wrong Santa.

I hope I still get my coloring book.

I want to meet you soon. You can wake me up when you come this time. I can talk. We can be friends. I mean we are friends. But you should talk more to friends. So we should talk and be friends. It would be better than not talking and being friends.

Thank you for the coloring book.

Bye bye.

Love,

Kate.

 ‘Mommy I finished the letter’

‘Are you sure you wrote everything you wanted to dear?’

‘Hmm’

‘What happened sweetie?’

‘I forgot to tell him something but I will tell him when he wakes me up after he comes’

‘Oh, but sweetie, what if he is too busy and cannot stay longer? You have to write whatever you need in the letter’

‘Okay mommy. But I really hope he has some more time and wakes me up this time. I want to talk to him, really’

‘What do you want to talk about?’

‘Mommy its between me and him’

‘What is it dear? You cant tell me?’

‘No I cant mommy.’

‘Okay, well, go ahead and write it.’

‘But I already finished my letter’

‘You could add something more, you can write a P and an S and then write some more.’

‘Okay ’ Kate hopped with new found cheer and went back to her little self-made writer’s space and started writing again.

PS

Dear Santa, I want to tell you something else. Maybe you can help. You are smart and you give everyone everything they want. I think daddy doesn’t love mommy anymore. He told her he needs to be away on Christmas at our other house. He doesn’t know how much awesome mommy is. Maybe he likes to stay in that other house more. Can you ask him to come to this house for Chirstmas? I want to see him. Mommy is not smiling much after he went away. I want her to smile. It makes me happy. If you can bring him it would be great. But she told me you are busy and you may not have time. If you don’t have time, don’t get me the coloring book. But getting daddy is important. Can you do it? I know you will. I love you Santa. What would I do without you?

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Hope you enjoyed the story :) 
Wish you a happy 2016 J