Wednesday, November 2, 2011

We become stories with every little thing we do.
With my walk to the Godavari bus stop, I begin with my cover photograph.
Girl in clothes put together in two minutes-crushed kurta with yesterday's perfume on it and churidars marked with ink stains.A hurried line of kohl in her eyes.
The Nilgiri is for the fancy dedication.
A lovely set of carefully chosen words manicured and pedicured to fit within the brackets of fancy calligraphy.
By the time I have crossed the Kaveri tank and taken the right from the Nehru statue, the roads lay littered with the string of words that my footsteps sing to the road I tread upon.
I turn back and cringe at the litter and heave a sigh of relief when the sweeper's broom brushes them all aside.
I see how all the words stick to the thin sticks of the broom-all held together with a light electrostatic force.
The kind that lets the comb touch the strands of hair for a few seconds more before parting.
I hear a stranger's radio sing,

"...Sheher sunsaan hai, kidhar jaye,
Khaq hokar kahi bikhar jaye..."

It is funny how every little thing we do becomes a story.

11 comments:

jo said...

how strange if everyone's life is but an unread novel?

Loved the post..brought back memories of sweet old jnu :)

Kalyan Panja said...

lovely words...nicely crafted lines!

Subhalakshmi Roy said...

:)

i cant say any thing else... but...

:)

Saudamini said...

Yes. Just unwritten stories. :) Beautiful, as always.

Ephemera said...

"..Bahirer khelay daake shey
Jabo ki kore
Khelaghar bandhte legechi.."

Kriti said...

this was beautiful. And deeply stirring.
Miss you, B!

darkling said...

this is so lovely... :))

Nilayan said...

lovely blog...

Astraeus said...

every little thing does not make a story but some like you can spot that which others gloss over and that makes a story

Phoenix speaks.... said...

aah...takes me back to JNU days..sigh..

rahul bhattacharya said...

:)