Funny how some people like to go through journeys, of train or life, alone while some just cannot and for the rest, it does not really matter.

I think latter is the best place to be. Or not?

A girl with yellow words

Have you thought of someone when you looked at yellow? The warm, nourshing, bright, happy colour reminds me of this girl in my college, who beautifully personifies yellow. Haven't ever been very close to her but not been a total stranger too. Funny how sometimes you  'know' someone so profoundly inspite of spending not longs hours in life.

For me, words by her appear in yellow too. When i read her writings, i dont see continous black texts holding an idea but i see her talk to me across the table over coffee, wearing a bright yellow kurta with an orange dupatta. She is wonderfully warm and stunningly generous.

And then there is one guy whose words always appear in gray to me, even if it was a poetry he wrote expressing his love. You might have guessed he wasn't the most  cheerful and happy someone to be with.

Explains why i always like to read the girl and i think i know her without really knowing her and could never read the guy, even if those poems were all for me.

Words. How powerful can they be!

Only if i could brighten my heart like a room with just a simple on-off switch
Only if i could lighten myself  like the skies right now through rains.
Only if i could dissolve this ache in my words.

Mocha and sitcom

My roommate has a bunny. Not the white ones like we often see in India but he is a brown fur ball, running across the rooms, often chasing nothing. His favourite spot is under the big bed or under our coffee table. He would just sit there, very still. I often think he is looking at me.

He has a big cage which houses his water, food and this small plastic tunnel sort, where he goes to sleep. The cage is big and airy and is kept near this large window, through which, every morning sunshine pours in. There is a tree right in front of our house and can be seen through this window. Since it fall here right now, the tree adorns beautiful warm colours. They often remind me of my mom's bright orange saree. She usually wore it on days when she went to the temple. Her big, red bindi, deep black kajal, hair neatly tied in a bun. She looked so pretty. My mom. Memories. What must these colours trigger in bunny? Anything at all?

The bunny's name is Mocha. We call him 'Bunny'. My roommate also calls him 'Handsome' while I like 'Baby' too. On days when we are both off to school, we let him out the cage. I let him out even on days when only I am at home. He runs around for a while and then goes off under the bed. It is right in the corner, the very corner, he sits still. He looks at peace. His cozy corner. 

Bunny has his nose continuously move in a manner that it looks like he is sniffing. I often imagine like he is saying something. How would his voice be like? I have never heard him make any sound. At times, when it is just Bunny and I in the house, while I lay lazily on the couch, he stretches himself flat on his stomach and always faces me. He just sits there and looks at me. I pet him between his eyes, he likes it, I know. 

My roommate takes good care of him. Only giving him the best food, regular vet check-ups, lots of 'carrot' love, grooming and petting. It looks like a happy place for him to be. I cannot think of anything amiss. He has the best of the world and in everyday language, 'things are perfect for him'. Except that it is not.

He is born to be free, running around in the woods, nibbling on whatever he feels like. He is meant to be running around that beautiful tree in front of our house while taking in the warm sunshine. Not watching it from the window. He is to make a burrow for himself, just big enough to accommodate him, no extra space. His cozy corner is below the earth, not above it. He is to sit and watch the beauty of nature with his other friends. Not lay still and observe the concrete walls of our house. Maybe he is saying something but we will never understand it. 

The other day, I had left the balcony open, worrying all the while that he would jump off from there but secretly hoping that he does too. He didn't. 

I feel like Bunny sometimes. 

There are moments when he lying on the carpet and I slumped in the sofa just keep looking at each other with the television sending out its funny one-liners. It is most often some sitcom.

Situation Comedy. 

mohabbat mein deewangi ke charche bahut sune hai

ab deewana banne ki baari meri...

kuch shabd bikhre hai mere aas-paas
aake inko aver do aur ek nazm bana do

Jaleel and I - A Story of stories

His eyes were happy but mysterious; welcoming and embracing; and became small when he smiled. They lit up like the brightest star in the night sky.

He was the brightest star for me that cold winter night.

Jaleel was an IT consultant and I met him at a newly opened Moroccon restaurant in Illinois. The restaurant wasn't particularly striking with pale yellow walls patched with apparently cheap, bright paintings on one side and small wrought iron mirrors on the other. It was primarily a take-away joint and probably explains the placement of only four tables with four plastic chairs each. Brightly coloured clay pots were arranged at the counter, behind which Jaleel stood working on the bills.
Placed alongside in a basket were colorful, apparently traditional shoes. I felt a story in the room within a few minutes of settling down at the table. I couldn't instantly figure out the narrative though. I grew curious but Jaleel was busy as he was the only one welcoming people, taking orders, serving food, cleaning tables, writing bills, collecting money and all the while, maintaining a warm demeanor with his steady smile and happy eyes.

I ordered a vegetarian combo. The food arrived quickly and was delicious, however, I could not savor it. I was growing restless and impatient to talk to him. I could then hold the musical chords wildly tugging at me and make a melody. Jaleel seemed welcoming, he wouldn't mind I speculated. I continued to reason and strategies my approach while I worked on my food.

In the very next moment, I found myself turning around to him and complimenting the food. He responded with the most genuine 'thank you' ever! Hereon, Jaleel only continued to fascinate me.

He always wanted to start a restaurant and so a few months back, when a Chinese restaurant was shutting down, he instantly grabbed on the opportunity. Then there was born 'Taste of Morroco'. I had read good reviews on Yelp! about it and so I informed him. He said there were others who had told him too but he was yet to read them. I could tell from his eyes and voice and smile that it meant a lot to him.

During the day, his wife along with a helper cooked all the items on the menu and Jaleel took over its serving in the evening. He said it was a passion they both shared. I could sense the excitement. The narrative was building. And while he kept describing a few more details about their operations, I grew heavy with my thoughts (about them) and floated on to another level. Second job for an IT consultant? It clearly wasn't for financial reasons.It was passion and I admired it. After all, the courage to follow one's heart is rare. For often this pursuit is sacrificed for the sake of practicality.

He went into the kitchen and asked us if we would like some mint green tea. He said it was on house. We nodded excitedly. Along with the tea, he offered us a Morrocon dessert, similar to a bread pudding, only better.

His generosity was humbling. His story too.
I have been thinking of him since that evening. There is so much more that I wanted to ask. I feel there is something for me to learn from him. I will visit him again. Hopefully, I get to meet his wife this time too. I wish I knew her name.

--
I love stories. Stories of individuals-- of their passion, love, conflicts and achievements. Of their fears, diligence, loyalty, careers and relationships.
I wanted to become a journalist since I was fourteen but I didn't really know why.
I guess I do now.