Journey: Rain drop

"Mumma! When I grow up I want to be a rain drop" said little Ramanujan looking outside the window at rain.
"OK. But you need to study hard for that." her mother replied casually while searching for TV remote. Few days back Ramanujan had said to his father he want to be a bus conductor because it is a coolest job to travel all day in the bus and to play with loads of coins.
"Study hard then" his father had replied then.
"Mom, in which college I have to enroll in to become a rain drop?" Ramanujan asked still looking outside.
"Why do you want to be a rain drop, Ramanujan?" His mother asked still clueless about the remote.
"Arent they beautiful mom? Falling from such height for random strangers and for what but just to reincarnate again in to a drop and continue the cycle and make millions happy for some time in this process." He said.
His mother stood still. Paused. One part amazed. One part concerned. One part happy.
"I think I put the tv remote in the fridge mom" he said and ran away outside as if he had found the purpose of his life.
"What? And where are you going now? I will beat you Ramanujan, come back" his mother shouted but the music of rain coherated with his heart beat as he ran towards playground soaked in rain.

Dilli se hoon, Jamie Lannister!

I have officially spent most of my nights staring at the sky from my bed. Delhi is altogether a different beast at night. Like some tamed dragon ready to fly you to hidden treasure. There is a strange uncertainty about her nights. You can never be sure if you will be able to find a single star in sky, let alone constellations.
मेरे शहर का चाँद शर्मिला है
रातों में बुर्का ओडे रखता है
She teases you some nights and deprives you of glimpse of celestial wonders. There is some love-hate relationship with her. All through out the day, I despise her. She makes me sweat, she makes me fight, she makes me sick, she makes me kiss hideous pollution. She makes me feel insignificant. She makes me feel lost. Bitch!

Bollywood flirts with her, authors romanticise her. They boast this city has seen very depth of both, hope and despair. Every act of crossing the road is is a miracle of existence.
In nights, lying lifeless in my bed looking our at vast infinity I fall in love with her. Everynight. Masochism at its best. What seems like a cage in day's light feels home in night's darkness. Stockholm syndrome.
It accepts everybody and from everywhere. Delhi reclaims both riches and poors. The bastards she scolds in day, she holds them in nights, close to her tattered chest. She listens to our fantasies, aspirations like a lover and pats us with eternal hope.
Like a mother, she brushes our hair and tells that I am special. In day light you question your identity in the gigantic urban sprawl of 16 millions but at night she makes you believe one day you will own her.

Lying in my bed every night, observing her façade of cruelty slipping by, I watch Delhi. Sometimes street dogs barks in protest that I am hallucinating, but like a timid kid I lift my arms hugging this beautiful beast and I exclaim "Bitch! You have pulled me back again". 

Kids, there is no quit in unrequited.

Unrequited love. When you continue love without reciprocation. Most of you must have fallen for that one. The guy who feels like your prince charming. That girl who is so cute that PETA will take offence if anything bad happens to her. That guy who is legend awesomnes made of. Whatever, if there is god even he can't make this person more better. Yep, that's a kinda love you are in. Creepy! *Pukes*
You meet this person and you don't know how to express yourself anymore. And what you do- through poetry or paintings. So much said through short verses. So much expressed in a few strokes of paint.
These are the days when you start pondering about those rhetoric philosophies-
 Is conventional beauty is everything? Are you blind to my inner beauty?
DEAR LORD, I HAVE SACRIFICED 12 ROSES HEAD. WHAT ELSE DO YOU WANT ME TO DO?
No seriously, do you know how much ferns & petals charge for a dozen roses?
But I am taller than his gf... How can he neglect this? What about genetic superiority?
I guess 26 missed calls delivered the message to her subtly.

And then reality hits you. Ouch! Ahh. Then comes the days when you lie in your bed and you don't know if you will be able to survive the day or not. You feel like slicing your wrist (dayem this shuffle for playing Ranjhana sound track now). But you are smart and you don't want poor knife to be called criminal all its life. You decide to live. For the future of knife, maybe.
Truth be told, that seldom I do, unfulfilled love is most romantic love. Largely because fulfilled love involves you buying nappy for kids and switching to colours TV when you want to watch ESPN. You, my friend is a brave soldier who chose difficult path. You are making this word a better place (How? Umm... We will come to it later). Seriously,I am proud of you, because you allowed yourself hope when others let them pulverised by despair. You tried. Don't give up. And if you feel you are losing, write some emo status on Facebook. I will personally 'Like' them all no matter how crappy they are. I feel you.