Tuesday, February 26, 2008

2 years later me and CIEFL, now Tea Flu

and this is my goodbye to this place.
i will never again return to this pink CIEFL
this place to which i probably never really belonged to.
and it saddens me that i now never will.
the 25 minute train ride.
the innumerable minutes spent waiting for the train at sitaphalmandi.
friends kind and loving enough to walk with me till station everyday.

the tank
the tank on which all sat at the edge, never in the middle.
and the tank which probably created a few communities and
to be fair, intimidated many others.
the mess, with its plastic chairs and food i missed on the weekends,
only because i could afford to.

friends made on the first day,
ships maintained throughout.
in spite of the mind numbing GB s.
in spite of 'ideological' differences.
in spite of .....

and here is to the women of CIEFL.
the most unnerving, tongue twisting kinds,
who make me stammer,
and fall in love.
to the women of CIEFL
the stronger race.
goodbye all the girls i liked
and could never say anything to
goodbye to you all to whom i could say something to,
goodbye again

and soon it will be that last day,
that last ticket, saying sitaphalmandi to begumpet.
the last familiar nod from the man at the ticket counter.
the last cig smoked on tank
the last eye contact
the last look
the last visit to sagar
the last paper soap used...LOL
the last groan
the last "oh god i hate her"

the last of the carefree days
the last of the free world
the last of this weird unique isolated place hidden amongst trees
and inhabited by the strangest people,
who strangely are not strange to each other

the strangeness that is CIEFL
this oasis in the middle of this thing called real world,
which one cant find, after leaving through its gates.
leaves a hole in the soul,
now which we will try to
fill by looking elsewhere
for this place called CIEFL

and fail

till we return once again

return to pink CIEFL.

2 years later....I still know I cant return ever again.
The last footesteps taken by my mojri clad (floater-clad, osho chappals-clad) feet were when I left through the end-gates.

For I now wear leather.

Monday, February 18, 2008

The first day it rained in my city and I made my way to work.

I took only 80 bucks and a yellow-black auto and I traveled the miles between heaven and the ordinary. My city woke up today to mauve clouds and glorious grey rain. And I woke up to my personal heaven. My orange room was at last defeated and n light entered my haven. Alas, my red curtains kept away the pitter patter of raindrops on my window A.C. Or perhaps I mistook them for the usual pigeons of everyday. And I began waking from 6:30 this morning and left my mile long bed at 8. This 1 and a half hours it rained in my borrowed homeland but my ears stayed covered to it. When at long last I went to my cocooning balcony, I saw the straight rain and the lone limp black dog running the whole stretch of the road. Once. Twice. I wished she would find a shelter like I had unknowingly done that morning. As the dog returned the third time, she and I enjoyed the city’s first rain that morning.