Works of RK

There is a picture of yours in a silk saree. Hairs straightened; face partly covered with your hands, hiding a laugh.  Whenever I feel that my life is fast turning rudderless, whenever I start losing my connect with what is beautiful about life, I see that smile on your face, I do a zoom and look into your twinkling eyes, I catch the glean of flash bulbs on your silken hair, and I am back to loving life again. Frozen in time is your smile, you are the reason I tread another mile. Rajesh

I was in Belgaum a couple of months ago, waiting to catch the train home.  As usual we had swarm of beggars all around us, coming in some strange randomness. The young and abled would come first, this will be closely followed by the variety that limps followed by very old women. The increasing degrees of pathos that the line up generates taxes human emotions. To a very large degree, I am immune to beggars who are able bodied. I am partly immune to the limping variety. I generally succumb to the old and the aged. I fail to comprehend why someone as old as my grandmother, barely able to move, hardly see, has to go out every day into the world and beg for food. I feel cheated being a part of a nation that is all fart and no action, especially when it comes to the aged. The grains that we allow to rot every year is sufficient for two times of food for all the poor and needy elders in this country. I wish I was working with the government, I would have at least given it a try! The elder...

I sometimes wonder about the tenacity with which life finds reasons to hang on. My maternal grandmother is 87 and in the terminal stages of cancer, she can barely breathe, but life holds on. My life have been in absolute chaos for sometime now, there are very limited things and people in life that bring me joy, life however finds constant source of engagement, a blog that makes me laugh a movie that makes me cry some good lookin woman who makes me drool, a child that makes me want to have one of my own. My life thunders on. Rajesh

I never knew when it all became so complicated. When I started rewriting definitions, drafting terms of engagement. I do not remember when I stopped having time for those who love me and started finding time chasing those who dont. I dont remember when I grew up, when I became just another face in the dumb fucking crowd, when I stopped tipping the poor beggar woman on the corner or the young kid of the tea stall owner. I have no clue when I forgot . . . Remembering you. Rajesh

The nights give way to stupid days. Life to more life, white noise. Working on the keyboard answering stupid mails, scripting project plans, wasting time, I find myself suddenly thinking about you. I suddenly rediscover things that make my moments special. I feel my love for life increasing. The moments I spend thinking of you are the moments I love to live in. These are the moments when birds and rainbows sunlight and clouds kites and balloons mom and dad all feel so wonderful and special. These are the moments when I hear your laughter echo through the corridors of my otherwise desolate life. These are the moments when I surrender, when I dont fight the urge to dispute how incorrigibly I love you. Wishful thoughts cross my mind... I Wish you had loved me, a quarter as much as I love you. And if you do, wish I knew. Rajesh

If I stitch together life with ancient derelict scripts and new age melodrama, and then I play Morgan Freeman and Jack Nic rolled into one, what would the movie be, if not intense. Rajesh

It was one of those absolutely ordinary days. The Hyderabad sun was at its best and the Telangana guys were at rest. These was nothing out of ordinary that day, nothing that would remind me of it again. And then I looked over your bay and saw you busy at work. Some strands of your silken hair would keep falling forward and you would keep pushing them back again. Streaks of Loreal played burgundy colors and your yesterdays waxing caught the sun. Amidst the brown pathos of our workplace, I saw a mirage in green. I do not remember which day that was but I remember the color of your chunni. I do not remember what I had been thinking for ages before this time, but I will never forget what I felt at that freeze frame moment in time.  Out of Don Corleone's world came two thunderbolts, the first took Michael, the other caught me unawares. Since that sordid afternoon years ago, I have been so unsuccessfuly in love with you. Rajesh