Samya's Space

Don't tell me it's not like me The self-destructive ways, the abhorrence of the ordinary And the craving for all things that I cannot have Don't deny my own nature to me, it had happened before, it's in my blood and you kept it from me. It's in my blood to revolt, to be in the extremes, to be volatile, and to take my own life. Be it poison or be it a knife or be it in the dimples or the long curly mane, the inheritance from bloodline. This death wish runs in my blood You thought I'll never find out.

So how are you progressing Vidya? I have gone 2 squares up! What squares have you conquered? I got the heirs to two oldest families of the island pinned down. Excellent feat young lady!  That fine complexion must’ve surely helped, but not so bad at all for 23! And how did you to Melanie? I am stuck at the same square,  neither is my purse plump enough, nor my name long enough Oh well, Melanie you must get a move on!  The clock is ticking by. I know, the clock hands just reached 28! 28! Oh no, no, hurry up Melanie before you dry up completely! How about you abandon that square of no hope, and go down to square 15? What? To a single-story house and no car? Yes, but there must be some compromise… ( at this age ) A PHD is no good without looks and some dough, you know? Poor Melanie! Ah, it’s Anita! So tell us how are you getting along? Wonderfully well! He and I are so much in love,  we’ve scheduled our wedding at Ibiza this June! Oh, nice,...

I can't remember why I gave up writing for pleasure altogether. I think it was after I realized that I could not voice the thoughts exactly as nuanced as they were in my head, when I thought of them. I would at times talk to my friend and speak with her about this irresistible premise for a short story that I entertained for sometime in my mind. I would discuss of the suitability and credibility of such a premise, and be highly encouraged by her positive feedback. But when after months and months of my usual tarrying, I did sit down and write something along those lines, it turned out to be hideously miserable; only a feeble impersonation of what I had in my mind. But what was worse, was the fact that I felt, the fault was not in my feeble powers of articulation, but in my mind itself. I felt it had run out of all creative intellect, and become numb to detailed idiosyncrasies and emotions that pervade human nature, of which I was very astutue, back when I wrote my first prope...

"Pratiksha" (Waiting/Expecting) by Harivansh Rai Bachchan Whenever I think of this beautiful poem, my mind wanders off to that one evening when I had to give the oral test for my Hindi Diploma. Being my favourite poem which I knew by heart, I wanted to recite this poem as part of the test, when they would ask us to recite or sing something of our choice. I was eagerly waiting till the white-haired Indian examiner asked me to do the same, so that I can impress him with my passion for such beaitiful verses penned by Harivansh Rai Bachchan Ji. However, in the anticlimax of reality, he was at best nonchalant, staring at me coolly, while I rambled on with a horribly out of pitch recitation of these expressive words. On a lighter note, I did pass the exam, and this poem remained my favourite.  And how I got to know of the existence of this wonderful poem is not through a textbook, or a poetry compilation of the poet, but weirdly from a Kathak dance recital of Sharvar...

'Because I could not stop for Death –  He kindly stopped for me – ' Emily Dickinson On the second or the third day of being in dengue hemorrhagic state, I woke up abruptly from a very uncomfortable snooze (the urine catheter and all the tubes and IV lines preventing any sort of movement). I found him sitting on the side of my bed. You must know that Death really doesn't look scary. He stroked my hair and said, "you must be tired." I indeed was, even to nod. He took my right hand with the bloody canula and asked, "how much more blood will they draw", then took my left, connected to a blood bag, slowly administering deep scarlet drops into my veins and asked, "how much more blood will they give." Everything was silent. The ECG beeped in reply, "more, more, more." He came closer to me and gently touched the blood pressure cuff that was cutting into my skin. I winced. 'Hurts, doesn't it?" he asked sympathetica...

Candy floss came first. I LOVED it! Don't we all love candy floss? It was very sweet, satisfying and everything I wanted. I couldn't dream of anything better, so much so that, tasting it, I was in heaven. But as you can imagine, with time it began tasting bland, grew blander and blander till I got quite sick of the sweetness. It stopped tasting sweet and began tasting bitter by the day. So one day I got tired of all that bitterness and dropped it and ran away. I won't say that I didn't stop quite a few times and looked back and even retraced my steps and picked it up and gave it one more taste. It was actually very slow and gradual- my final realization that candy floss made me feel sick. The first taste I loved was bad for me. I walked on till I saw something that took my breath away...A four-door fridge! I don't know about you, but I had never seen a four-door fridge before. so I looked at it from afar. I looked and looked and looked so hard that from that di...

I hold on to his shoulder. He puts his fingers through the fingers of my right hand. We straighten our bodies to the correct postures and he softly places his free hand on my waist. And we are all ready to start the dance. He dances so swiftly, never missing a beat. If I ever keep the wrong foot forward, he adjusts his footwork to match mine. It was almost involuntary, dancing with each other. He knows the beat inside my heart and I know his and we dance to that. We go on swirling, swaying, spinning, laughing, dancing till the crac k of dawn, till our shoes are quite worn and it leaves us out of breath. Once our tired feet are relieved from the shoes and soothed by the light breeze, I gently rest my head against his warm, beating chest and listen to its song of pure love. He puts his arms around me. I put mine around him. He kisses the top of my head. We hold on to each other for long. Then we pick up our shoes and walk on our naked soles down the star-lit country road in its glo...