a terrible painter, a dreamer, a rebel , a feminist and a self certified bisexual Witch. Who is always trying to visualize whats on the other side of the canvas she paints,just another human- Living alive Life. Now also a green tea addict.

Wednesday, 29 July 2015

Siesta Girl's tea cup.

Attempted Flash Fiction:-

belongs to rightful owner, PC- Google

There are days when I fall under spells; today was one freshly lit afternoon that had charmed me. I was seated on my coarse blue seat and looking out of the window. I was under two spells. My feet rested on the empty seat opposite to mine, my black slippers cowering under its vacant space in the shadows. The green outside was rushing past my vision and the sunlight was making it hard for my eyes to keep staring outside for long. It was one of those days when rain had wiped off the dirt from sky and the smell of wet earth was numbing all other senses except the olfactory glands.

My fellow passenger on right was fast asleep; her toes curled in dreams, her knees pulled to her swollen chest and her face half hidden in white dupataa, blocking the sunlight. As the train kept gushing on her tracks, I saw her body getting swayed softly on the blue berth. The mauve kurta and jeans she was in highlighted her outline on that seat she was sleeping peacefully. We boarded the train from same station; an afternoon train always offered a comfortable journey for close destinations, she was similar to me I had a feeling.

Before she decided to go for siesta she requested me to keep an eye on her belonging if I remained awake. I smiled and nodded my head to assure her that I would. Her eyes were tired and I felt she was in desperate need of that nap. I could never refuse a pretty face like her. A black laptop backpack stuffed with bottle of mineral water and clothes sat in the corner of the seat opposite to her. Every now and then when the sunlight burned my eyes I looked at her bag and then outlined her with my eyes. We were carrying same baggage; I too had a laptop backpack, stuffed with clothes and a mineral water bottle sticking its neck out. The only difference we had was her bottle was unsealed and mine was kissing me for five months now.

Maybe she was a student like me, younger or older I could never guess. I could always check out the white paper pasted outside on the compartment, I could learn her name, her age, guess her religion and caste as well and find her expected station too. If she woke up before my platform became visible I could strike a conversation with her. She lay in her position breathing evenly and the shadows created from my window’s bar caged her. She looked like a mermaid caught by heavily webbed fishing net spread out in some distant golden ocean.

The hawkers passed me, offering jhaal muri, sweetmeat, cucumber but I craved for tea in the earthen cup and my eyes kept fluctuating between the bright green outside and the figure on the seat on my right. She trusted me enough to keep a watch over her solitary bag, her brown shoes were vibrating towards me and would soon be victim of the stampede at next station's arrival. I lowered my right leg and softly kicked them towards similar vacant darkness under her berth. It was strange ride, our compartment was unusually empty, there were hardly seven or eight bodies travelling in it. Majority of them had been asleep like her, trusting someone awake like me or trusting their sleep senses to alert them when something felt off, all of them drifted in a swaying dream.

My cell-phone vibrated thrice and I refused to check it, I was too comfortable at gazing out and voyeuring in. Her dupataa slipped and the sunlight pinched her eyelids. She woke up next moment, sat up straight blinking her puffed eyes at me few times, she needed that siesta, finally adjusting her vision on me she smiled. I smiled back at her. She fixed her hair and wrapped her dupataa around her neck like a person suffering from acute bouts of cold.

As her smile broadened the chaiwala finally appeared miraculously. I waved my hand and he looked at me. I indicated him for a cup with my finger and she turned around, her hair still messed, tangled and from my location appeared dry. I looked at her; she definitely wanted a cup of tea too. I gestured her that I was doing the talking with him, she worded a soft thank you. I showed two fingers and the cups arrived five minutes later. Before I opened my moneybag she had already given a crisp ten rupees note. The chaiwala assuming us to be travelling companions walked away before I could call out his steel kettle waving at me. She smiled again with warm eyes.

She sipped her tea, she seemed immune to the first assault of heat, her soft fingers held the earthen cup in a firm grip. Her lips did not leave the cup once, she sipped her brown drink staring at some form invisible to my eyes on the dirty artificial mosaic floor. I blew air on my cup, but she slurped her drink calmly she seemed unfazed by the drink but dazed by something inside her head. My eyes met tiny familiar houses speeding past my window. 

I gulped my burning tea, as my destination was fast approaching. I stood up. Her cup was empty. I slung my backpack handing her five rupees and took her empty cup. “I will dispose them” I spoke.  “Thank you again” she did not protest now her eyes focused on mine. I placed the cups together, above each other and walked towards the door I turned once to look at her ordinarily pretty face. Once the train stopped I stepped down, the station was taking a nap too. My eyes scanned for a dustbin first then I turned around, she was on the seat I had left my warmth on. 

She waved her hand at me.

I wanted to go and see the white paper pasted besides the door. I could have found out her name, her age and her destination. Maybe I could have initiated a talk. So many maybes popped in my head. I waved her back with my empty hand and the train began to move and soon disappeared into the wild green around me.

I turned around and went towards the kangaroo shaped dustbin. I dropped my tea cup in it. I was keeping her's as a memento for an enchanting afternoon ride, for those few hours she did cast a spell  on my soul with her repeated "thank you". But some books are better left unfinished; this book was called Siesta Girl’s tea cup.

P.S- The End

thanking you to bear with me

Thursday, 23 July 2015

A scene from Interview

At twenty two, people had written poems, lead revolutions, bled for love, fought for country, worked for NASA, found new medicines for incurable diseases or simply roll on bed snoring, their life off in a blissful bubble like me. I turned twenty two, yes it seems strange to accept that I am far from my teen years, but I did, do I look older, refined and appealing to the opposite sex or the same sex? No! To them I appear a short girl jumping in ripped trousers here and there with nerd glasses on. Before I turned twenty two I took a self challenge- To Complete the Fictions of Haruki Murakami translated in English. 

Here is a part from the long self interview.

I had a dream or maybe I was in a place where all my personalities meet and talk, a parallel universe. In this place the Twenty-two years old me, was being questioned by the Blogger Me. The two selves of mine were seated in a big room, the interviewer was wearing t-shirt, green harem trousers, boots and cat framed glasses and her hair was in a messed up bun, other interviewee self was wearing a blue jumpsuit, framed glasses and her hair replicated Medusa’s snakes.  This is the attempt to recall what I had eavesdropped.  

Blogger Aries-What made you challenge yourself with the task of finishing the Translated Fictions of Haruki Murakami? (Can see her interviewee is nervous and scratching her uncombed hair)

Twenty-two Aries- Well, how do I put it? My life has been a very normal one you see. Nothing much happened except my sister throwing me in life threatening situations. I had a pretty simple action less life. It’s at one particular moment two years back that my sir (smiles unintentionally at mention of the person) made me get a copy of 1Q84. I was tricked into believing its science-fiction but it was surrealist piece with alternate universe, it was a writer whom I had read before but I forgot his name. My sir knew my obsession with Japan, its culture, manga and J-pop lured me. Here I am now, who found something much better then. 1Q84 made me fall in love with Murakami’s style. So two years later I was four books away from the claiming the glorious idea and self satisfaction of having read everything by Murakami. I wanted to turn twenty two with all his scattered wisdom.

Blogger Aries- You said you wanted to turn twenty two with all his scattered wisdom? (Her interviewee nods furiously) What do you mean by scattered wisdom and what have you gained? We would like our readers to know them as well”

Twenty-two Aries-  By scattered wisdom I meant you have to pick up from the writings, there are so many things mentioned in each book of his. The idea of double, doppelgangers and metamorphosis, sexuality, virility, impotency, it’s all there but one has to link pieces and learn their own lesson. I have gained that even if you are passive, un-harmful (interviewer observes her interviewee creating her own words to express) basically good person unusual things can happen to you out of the blue. These unusual actions will take the often nameless protagonists on a journey that will make them face the unconscious fears repressed in our dreams. You see it’s a chain reaction, every decision has a background and future it’s not singular but binary. I guess I can’t pick up any particular pearls of wisdom but I would say- Oedipal Fate, not the myth but the nature of fate is Oedipal. If you know the truth you may do more harm than being ignorant and vice versa.

Blogger Aries- Which book is your favourite of all the books and which do you recommend to beginners of Murakami and why do you pick that book?” (Interviewee is biting her lips in confusion)

Twenty-two Aries- I would say people should start with Hard Boiled Wonderland and The End of The World, it’s not my favourite, I sure love it. But this book has the first spelled out parallel worlds, they are defined and the three layers of personalities are beautifully created here. This book will make understanding of Kafka on the Shore easy, that’s my favourite book. But reading the most riddled work at first will spoil the fun of Murakami. But I would recommend people to read whatever fancies their mind first.

Blogger Aries- Is it true you have read all books by Paulo Coelho and Ruskin Bond?” (Interviewee looks up with doe like eyes begging not be troubled further behind her Medusa fringes and thick glasses)

Twenty-two Aries- “No, Ruskin Bond, I haven’t. I have read all his novellas and many stories but I am far from reaching the end. Paulo Coelho, yes I have, I read all his books available in English, so I must have missed the non-translated ones. (Sighs in nervousness)

Blogger Aries- “Does it give you a special pride or moral boost to have read each and every work of these writers mentioned?”

Twenty-two Aries- At the beginning it did, there was a vanity working, the glorious self that had read everything written by so and so writer. But now it’s not, I had to be done with Murakami because he was becoming common. When I began two years back he was still not a marketed product in India. He was my author, but now everybody wants a slice of him. So you can call it selfish desire on my part. I had tasted Murakami’s short stories even before my sir tricked me with the novel. It’s just I had forgotten his name, but his story was ingrained in my head. So now if I read complete work of any writer it’s because I am selfish out of love and I want to know everything. But now I know that I know nothing like John Snow.

Blogger Aries- Tell us your favourite features of Murrakami’s writing.

Twenty-two Aries- I love Parallel Universe he presents, I love the metamorphosis of humans with animal names like Rat and Sheep man from Wild Sheep Chase, the Boy Named Crow from Kafka on the Shore, Noboru Wataya the Cat in Wind Up Bird Chronicle. Unexpected phone calls and letters! I love his images of dissolving human body into nothingness and making absolute consciousness break walls of reality. Cats play an important role and they vanish! Connections happen over Jazz Music. Use of mundane actions like cooking, cleaning, shaving or shopping in story or a sudden dry well or dark alley popping out or unexpected sexual encounters in dreams. Everything is so weird yet connected! I love it all!

Blogger Aries- Don’t you find reading books from same writer dulling at times? (offers the shadowy cup of green tea to interviewee)

Twenty-two Aries- No.(Takes the cup) Yes like Paulo Coelho Haruki Murakami has his flaws but there is no point of dullness reading same writer. Yes both writers repeat a lot, Murakami I feel is lazy with names and repeats actions and incidents in his stories still they are different. Yet they keep you engaged. I think purpose of a novel or story is to keep us engaged and pleasure us the best possible way.

Blogger Aries- Which book in your hand guided you to your twenty second year and why that particular book?”

Twenty-two Aries- Norwegian Wood, it’s simple reason, it’s the most widely read Murakami book. I read various articles about this book in particular, the articles said that the book is essentially different from other books in style, theme, structure and story. It deals with the story of Watanabe who turns adult twenty one year old, from his seventeen year old self during motion of the storyline and I was twenty one too until weeks back. The film version has Kenichi Matsumaya, my favourite Japanese actor as Watanabe it added fuel to my zeal. I had to keep this book for last as I had to compare it with other books. I think it was a right decision. (Smiles at her interviewer)

Blogger Aries- Will you change the Blog’s name to MuraAries now, after all paulOaries is inspired from Paulo Coelho and he was your favourtie writer then? (Interviewee is surprised)

Twenty-Two Aries- MuraAries sounds good, but I will pass, if keep changing blog’s name after every favourite writer I have to change it every month. And Paulo Coelho is still my favourite writer, there are more who have joined the place on the alter with him. (Smirks at the interviewer)

Blogger Aries- That means you plan to finish reading each and every piece other writers you fall in love with too?

Twenty-two Aries- Yes absolutely! I am firm I will.

Blogger Aries- Please tell your reader friends whom do you plan to read before our selves begin merging back into oneself and our parallel world vanishes until for night time and that shadow observing us from corner wakes up.

Twenty-two Aries- He is not a writer but Playwright, it’s the ultimate entertainer William Shakespeare.

Blogger Aries- I wish you all the best.

Twenty-two Aries- Thank you I need it 

P,S- I am still Murakamied! 

thanking you to bear with me