Author Archives: hrsadat

The Bright Moon

I know you love the moon when she is bright
On the fourtenth with no clouds in the sky
You love her no less even in twilight
For she always reflects the star up high

I love him equally without no spite
For me he’s prettier on the third nightfall
When he blocks no star that wants to be bright
Making a lovely and serene dewfall

But neither he nor she can dull your smile
That feeds my soul as well bightens my days
May God keep you healthy and safe in style
And make me your company who amaze

The heart knows when the right person has come
Same way darkness runs when the bright moon come

Reading with the Heart

I adore your chimes all day honey
For no one masters rhapsodies like you
Into my ears you purr your melody
Into my heart the melodies accrue

I cherish your smile oh you finest chick
It melts my heart more than the melodies
Is it the dimples on your smoothen cheek?
Or the shiny dentition that’s beneath!

You wonder how the unsighted wanders?
Sure not by his two vivid eyeballs
Nor by the rays the upper star tenders
Alas his senses are deep in his soul

It is sad our words often fail our hearts
Sadder when no word can convey our hearts

A Human Star

I finally discovered a human star
The one whose light stays glowing forever
When she strikes she leaves just a tiny scar
A sharp scalpel cutting skin like never

East to west no one dares challenge her
Who in his mind wants a roasting attack?
She is soft-spoken with a soothing timbre
Alas look nowhere else for a lilac

Over to you the boastful buffoon
Show me your star what has she gotten?
Her beauty never gets you to the moon
Seek for character, that can’t be beaten

Listen to your heart for a clear vision
Listen to your brain for clearer vision

If you love her, you gotta remember her birthday

It was a quiet late summer Sunday just like every other Sunday in Shimla. The hilly and winding roads were deserted and so were the majority of the restaurants on the Mall Road. The only exception was Himani’s Restaurant, located right behind the famous Shimla Christ Church. As usual, its unrestricted rooftop bar was crowded with tourists and local patrons.  That was where Anisha and I chose to have our farewell dinner before my departure. I would be leaving for Africa in a few days for a full year environmental research project. She was also traveling to Goa with her family the following day, so we were both hoping to make it a memorable moment as we wouldn’t see each other for months.

We sat opposite each other at the edge of the open floor where we could have a good view of the city. A waitress came over shortly after to take our order. We asked for an apple juice while we scan through the menu. She reminded us that they have different varieties of beer, but we told her that we don’t drink alcohol. The surprise on her face was conspicuous, I suppose we aren’t her typical customers. I have been sober for almost a year, thanks to Anisha who had been nagging on me to quit drinking since we met.

Her parents are devout Sikh and the family strongly adheres to their faith’s principles. I am still surprised that they easily approved of our relationship knowing that I am a non-practicing Christian. Perhaps their love for Anisha and their confidence in her good characters make them respect any choice she makes in life. In any case, even if I don’t go to church, I would have a good passing grade in a morality test by any religious clergy. Anisha would give an A+ and that is what really matters to me, for I love her to the moon and back.

That is what I was trying to emphasize while we were having our drinks. Since the time I told her about the trip to Africa, she had been concerned that I am going to meet another girl over there and forget about her. I once told her about an aunt of mine who is hell-bent on me marrying within our relatives. Though I later told her that I have talked my aunt out of that notion, she still thinks some other aunt or uncle may come up with another proposition.

“Nisha, you know for the past few days, all I have been thinking is how I am going to survive twelve months without you. I spoke with the director of our Institute about sending someone else on my behalf, but there isn’t anyone who could replace me.” I said, holding tighter, her left hand that had been in my right hand.

“I believe you Abny (her version of my name, Abner), but I am just worried about losing you. I can’t get the nightmare I had last week of you kissing another woman at a wedding ceremony out of my head,” She responded, pensively. My eyes were fixed on hers, not really sure what to say next. Despite the gloomy mood on her beautiful face, I could spend the whole evening staring.

After a long pause that seemed to have lasted an eternity, I brought out a gift I got for her. It was “Don’t sweat the small stuff”, a book by Richard Carlson and a CK perfume, Eternity. Books and perfumes are the things she never turns away. I was very sure about that, but she proved me wrong this time.

She looked surprised after opening the small package to reveal the items. I know Eternity  to be her favorite, so I was contemplating she might not have liked the book. But nothing Like that.

“What made you chose this book? I am sure I have never mentioned it, but it is what I have been longing to read for years. Thank you so much, my love.” She lamented. I made a big sigh of relief.

“Connected hearts think in unison, you know,” I replied, humorously.

“That could be right indeed. My chakras and yours are already bonded. Regardless, I cannot thank you enough. You are the best.” She was obviously happy with my little gift. “I know it is me who is supposed to give a present, but I am planning a surprise for you on your birthday.” She added.

I wondered what kind of surprise that would be. My birthday is on August 1, less than two months away. “Hehe, I can’t wait to see that. Perhaps I should also start planning for my own surprise on your birthday.” I said, enthusiastically.

“Do you even remember my birthday?” She asked, jokingly.

“Of course I remember, how could I forget your birthday again, Nisha?” I bluffed, quickly wrestling with my memory to remember. We had a similar argument the previous year, and I remember how furious she was when I could’nt remember her birthday. I shouldn’t have forgotten again after that scuffle. It is baffling how she always asks face-to-face when I cannot cheat by looking through my calendar or Facebook.

“Come on, tell me, when is it?” She brought my attention back to the present. And she looked serious.

“I don’t have to say it now to prove that I know it, my dear. But trust me, I remember it more than I remember mine and I am going to surprise you on that day.” The stern look on her face told me she was not going to buy my bluff.

And indeed, she didn’t. I tried all I could to brush over the topic, but she insisted on me saying it if I remember for sure. In the end, she threw the present I gave her back to me and walked away, angry and disappointed. I know to leave her alone when she is mad, so I decided not to follow her. The waitress who had come back to take our order looked more bewildered now. I didn’t know how long she had been standing, I just hoped she hadn’t heard the argument.

“What do you want to eat sir? Is she coming back?” She finally asked.

“Don’t worry, we are going to eat somewhere else.” I retorted, trying to keep my cool. I thought of staying to booze the mood away but fought back the temptation. I paid for the drinks and took my leave.

I have never thought of mundane things like the birthday to be of much importance but Anisha taught me a lesson of my life. If I love her, I gotta remember her birthday.

 

Not all friendships startup sweet

Do you remember how you met all your friends? I believe the answer is a NO for most of us except those who have just a handful of them. Not easy to forget is the memory of friends we met following some dirty squabble. I bumped into Abishek in a similar way, and he is today one of my close buddies.

During my stay in Shimla, I usually stop by a shop at Khalini to buy momos (local dumplings) upon returning from the gym. I eventually became acquainted with the shop owner, Chandra, who has a greater sense of humor than myself. I would spend most part of the evening at his place together with his friends whenever I don’t have office work to complete. This gives me the opportunity to practice my Hindi language – adding to my umpteen Hindi teachers.

Long into our casual conversation on one eventful day, Chandra’s friend decided to make what would later turn out to be an expensive joke. “Chandra is a nice guy and you can see he is loved by everyone. You know what we call such people in Hindi?” He asked me.

I shook my head but immediately thought he may misinterpret it as an Indian head bobble which signals the affirmative. So, I responded back, “nahi.”

I wanted to say accha-adami which translates to a “good man,” but I knew he was looking for a single word. Perhaps I sensed he was on a mission, so I would never have guessed what he had in mind. He then told me the term for a nice person is gandu, and I can start calling Chandra as such. The way he chuckled after uttering the word and how everyone around laughed as well, warned me there is more to the word than I was being told. Regardless, I began addressing Chandra ji with his new title.

They continue to laugh every time I called him gandu and this more than arouse my suspicion about its meaning. In fact, he doesn’t seem to enjoy the banter as much as them. Nonetheless, they all refused to tell me the true meaning of the word despite my insistence.

This continues until the arrival of Abishak who believes life has to be too serious all day all time. I later learned he is Chandra’s younger brother and a community leader in the locality, hence he stays away from small talks. From the few wrinkles on his face and his conspicuous baldness, I suspected he would be in his late forties. He interjected as soon as he heard me called his brother gandu. “What did you just call my brother?” He asked, with a stern face that says he is up to no jokes.

Ignoring his sullenness, I jestingly responded in my amateurish Hindi, “aapkabhaiganduhai.” No sooner had I completed the statement than his hand landed on my cheek. It took me about 15 seconds to understand that I have just received the slap of my life. “That hurts,” I managed to utter.

Chandra and his friends couldn’t believe what just happened, they stood there speechless. They turned to Abishak explaining to him that it had just been a banter talk all along and no one meant any harm or insult. In fact, the fardesi (I – the foreigner) didn’t know what the word meant. He didn’t buy that, so he went berserk. “I don’t care who he is, it is not acceptable to use such repugnantly abusive language here. I see he speaks Hindi very well, so he undoubtedly knows what he is saying. I know he teaches at the Shimla university, I know the vice chancellor and I am going to report this to the management. He will explain to the police if he is the one who sleeps with my brother. Let them keep their nasty behavior to themselves, we don’t want any of it here.” He said furiously.

I was smiling in bewilderment. At this point, I figured out the word has to do with homosexual act which is still a taboo there, but couldn’t grasp why he has to stand for his quinquagenarian elder brother. Perhaps something new to learn about the Indian tradition (or rather Himachal’s).

In my mind, I was thinking, how on earth would I be the one to explain to the police instead of him for slapping me because I said something he doesn’t like? Nevertheless, I wasn’t going to fight or argue with someone old enough to be my father. I waited until he calmed down before I courteously apologized and explained to him that it is not my character to slander anyone. My Hindi vocabulary isn’t more than 50 words, so he should not expect me to know such a rare word.

Unexpectedly, Abishak realized he had reacted harshly and regretted his hasty and poor judgment. He apologized to me and urged that I forget all that had happened.

“I am still feeling the pain from the slap, so I would forget if you let me slap you back,” I joked, laughing and putting my hand on the receiving cheek.

“Go ahead my friend, you can slap both my cheeks if that is what it takes.” He said, moving a step closer to me and sticking his head out.

I laughed and gave him a friendly hug. Everyone, there was smiling, amused by the sudden turnaround. From that day, Abishak became a good friend of mine, even more than his brother. If he doesn’t see me for a few days, he would call and ask how I am doing. Shortly before I left Shimla, there was an event held in the community for which he was the chair, and he invited me as a guest of honor.

Whenever I want to make fun of him, I would ask if the offer to slap both cheeks is still on the table. However, since the incident, I learned to be careful with words and tread carefully on sensitive cultural lines.

Sadah.