The Mirror

Stuck under a ragged frame,
Thin walls but everywhere to go,
Put me in your arms and walk,
I see your visions low.

On your wall I may sit daily,
Mornings your face arise,
We look the same you and me,
Lean closer and I magnify.

I tell you how great you look,
I dance as well as you,
Yes of course you taught me how,
To do what you can do.

But to me you are more,
Than what I make you seem,
All at once I change your view,
Of what I see as me.

I assure you now,
I am beautiful,
I am radiant and true,
I show you who you really are.

The real me..... The real you.

I Got The Spot, Honey!

Before your wild imaginations run amuck, the spot I am talking about is a parking spot. Like the one you imagined after reading the post title, this one is quite hard to find here in Delhi, especially during holidays and weekends. I have struggled in the narrow lanes, busy streets and serpentine roads of Delhi; but what tops the list of my arduous quest is snaking through the lanes of Central Market (Lajpat Nagar) — heaving with honking cars, tinkling cycle-rickshaws and a throng of people on the move.  Whenever I get the opportunity to visit this place, I like missing this one, deliberately.

The place is pleasant, but finding a parking spot there on a weekend, is quite an unpleasant task. So it happened once ( and for all !) that my soon to be married friend convinced me to come along with her, to get some necessary wedding shopping done. As smart as we all are, just for the sake of getting a nice parking spot, me and my friend decided to go there early and buy whatever from the market.This would also save us from seeing aunties tripping over one other to get the best pair of stilettos and purchasing yet another suit for their wardrobe, no matter how overflowing their closets already are.

We got there early, found a nice “free” parking spot, spent some quality time in the market, but then, the inevitable happened. My ever hungry and super choosy friend longed for food and she was in a mood to eat Continental that day. Complying to her wish, with a heavy heart I took out my car from the parking spot and drove some miles to the nearest Continental restaurant. She was happy, I was happy. The food made us both happy. But what broke the virtuous cycle of our happiness was the parking spot, when we went back to Central Market after lunch, to continue with the shopping.

This was around 2 in the afternoon and it was scorching hot. It seemed entire Delhi was heading towards the market and each one had brought their own car. There was not even a single spot available, not even paid. And my dear friend wanted to continue with her shopping, still. Like the muted version of our earlier PM, I obliged. So, for more than an hour, we went round and round 4 blocks to find a parking spot, only to come back from where we started from.

Then we waited, and drove towards any car that was moving, in the hope that some got sun-stroked and were going back. It didn’t work. Then, we started following people who were coming out of the market and my lovely friend started asking them – Are you guys leaving?

Nope, No, Nahin, Nada – we heard all versions of a plain ‘No’ that day.

But then someone said something other than No, but sadly it was – We live close by.

Then, my friend re-framed the questions and started asking again – Do you guys live nearby? If the answer was ‘No’, it was followed by – Are you guys leaving? To which one guy replied – ‘Negative’ in European accent! Wow, what kind of world he came from? See, I told you, now I know every version of ‘No’ in both English and Urban dictionary.

That was enough ! I told my friend to walk towards the market, get her shopping done , and I would join her after I got the parking. She walked out of the car, leaving her chauffeur behind. But what I saw couple of minutes later in the rare view mirror was baffling. She was hysterically waving at me. I panicked. I swiveled the car and drove towards her. She looked Ok, I rolled down the mirror. ‘I got the spot, Honey’, she yelled.

I looked at her in complete bewilderment and found many heads turning towards her. Some words have weird connotations, I tell you. I told her to calm down but she held the spot so dearly as if she won a jackpot. I parked, she smiled, and we both pledged to never visit the place again !

Words

Where do our words come from, you ask, 
all of those words we love to read. 
A word for each possible task, 
they'd not exist without a need. 

When I was young, I had a sense, 
as I'd go in, some strange new door. 
I've seen this place, I know it well, 
I know I've been here once before. 

To my surprise a word exists 
for such a sense, can it be true? 
Some Frenchman said, long years ago, 
I think I'll call it déjà vu. 

And if I eat so much I'm stuffed 
or have a night with too much brew, 
when all I want is my soft couch, 
I've found out now, they've named that too. 

To my chagrin I'm not the first 
whose excess food caused so much pain. 
sur-feit became, a word before, 
the glory days of Charlemagne. 

So I sat down to coin a word. 
I'm sure it suits me to a tee. 
And I shall claim it as my own, 
a better word could never be. 

Alas a word that's mine all mine. 
I'm a rhyme-ster, I am, I say, 
this word I know describes me fine, 
I'll add it to my resume. 

But what a shock, it made me pout 
I looked it up, what could be worse? 
A rhyme-ster is, I now find out 
a writer of inferior verse.