Wednesday, May 17, 2006


Desperado, why don't you come to your senses?
You been out ridin' fences for so long now
Oh, you're a hard one
I know that you got your reasons
These things that are pleasin' you
Can hurt you somehow
He stands waiting, outside, chewing gum. On time, as always. Impeccably dressed, as always, in a throw-away shirt and jeans and matching shoes, car waiting nearby. He looks the same, that five o' clock shadow, that twinkle in his eyes women fell in love with, that sly smile playing on his lips. A quick hug later, we drive away.
Don't you draw the queen of diamonds, boy
She'll beat you if she's able
You know the queen of hearts is always your best bet
(A few years ago)
She plays too much of the helpless female with me you know, he told me. We were walking. It was that period between winter and spring when trees look gawky in their half-bloom. The ice was still melting.
But aren't we all helpless? I'd asked in return. The sun peeped shyly from above the clouds. A car drove by, kids in the back seat making a ruckus.
He shrugged, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat, and gave me that silly smile he reserved for moments when he wanted me to know that he wasn't changing his mind.
I don't think she's my type you know, he remarked. If only he'd known. We walked on.
Now it seems to me, some fine things
Have been laid upon your table
But you only want the ones that you can't get
Dear Ajay,
Sorry for not writing in earlier. Life is just too hectic here, what with one thing or the other demanding my know how it is.
Just wanted to wish you all the best in life buddy! Sorry for not making it to the wedding. Give the missus my best regards.
Sorry again.
PS: Oh, she said yes, by the way ;)
I've never sworn so much as I did after reading that email.
Desperado, oh, you ain't gettin' no younger
Your pain and your hunger, they're drivin' you home
And freedom, oh freedom well, that's just some people talkin'
Your prison is walking through this world all alone
Dear Ajay,
The fridge is all yours. Help yourself! Something came up at work.
I stare at the yellow post-it all bleary-eyed while I brush. He'd pasted it on the spotless bathroom mirror where he knew I wouldn't miss it. Always practical. Always methodical. So unlike a romantic, which he most definitely is.
Practical and methodical. Even with his women. They never could see what he truly is. Thing is he never wanted to show them, if you ask me. He wanted to be very sure before revealing, he once told me. Self-defense, in my opinion.
And he regretted it. Always. After the break-up. Not before.
I knew something was amiss the minute he'd said 'hello' when I'd called up to tell him I'd be flying over for the weekend. Gentle pressing and much cajoling later, he'd confessed.
We broke up, he'd whispered over the phone.
I shave quickly in the dim light of the bulb above the mirror. The razor slides smoothly over my cheeks.
She was not my type, you know, he'd added.
The after-shave stings as I dab it over where I nicked myself. It doesn't matter even if you see it coming. It still hurts.
I felt caged all the time. No space man. Zero freedom, you know. It would never have worked, he'd said with a sigh.
I look at the note again, and make my way to the fridge.
Don't your feet get cold in the winter time?
The sky won't snow and the sun won't shine
It's hard to tell the night time from the day
You're losin' all your highs and lows
Ain't it funny how the feeling goes away?
(A year ago)
Dear Ajay,
It's all over.
We broke up. I told her yesterday that I couldn't go on with this farce. She cried. A lot. But I hope she gets over me. I know she will. She's strong that way.

So why did we break up? It's got to with a lot of things. It's always about the little things, you know. The bigger issues you can always resolve, but not the little ones. Like the way she folds my books when she reads them and leaves smudges all over the pages. Like the way she has little patience for words and their meanings. Like the way...oh, never mind! Who am I trying to fool here? It was always about one thing. Just one thing. You've known me through all these years and through all these women. You know why I've never found what I'm looking for?
I'm too self-sufficient, A. Emotionally and intellectually. That's my problem. I guess some people classify me as a loner. So why search for love? Why look out for that elusive companion? I don't know how else to put this but there's this void inside me that's been unfilled all these years. I guess you might have known all of this all along.
A void which engulfs my soul when I stand by the sea at dawn with the moan of the waves in my ears, the wet sand crumbling under my feet, the water lapping around my ankles, the breeze flirting with my collar, the salt-spray stinging my eyes, when I see the sea shimmer with a golden gleam and the sky come alive as the sun squeezes itself from under the horizon and leaps out onto the sky above. I would like some company when I see that. Someone I can turn to and smile, someone I can hold hands with right then, someone who will smile back with the understanding of the emotions that run through me at that instant, someone who would travel with me through Life and yet weave her own path. Is that too much to ask? Maybe it is. Or maybe it's too less.
And all these women, who seemed to promise so much, are content with the tangible and the material. I don't blame them for that. Nobody wants to seek that which can't be sought, that which seeks you out only when you're ready for it, that which I find in the calmness of night looking at the stars lying with my back on the grass. Don't know if that makes sense. Does it?
Sorry to bore you, A. So tell me, how have you been? And how...
Desperado, why don't you come to your senses?
Come down from your fences, open the gate
It may be rainin', but there's a rainbow above you
You better let somebody love you, before it's too late
"So any chance of you coming back soon?" he asks me.
We're on our way back to the airport. It's raining outside. Soft music plays on the car radio.
I reply in the negative. And turn to look at him.
I can see a thin veneer of disappointment glazing his eyes, as he steers into the parking lot. I can sense the loneliness shrouding his being. And there's not a thing I can do about it.
I remember something he once wrote in an email.
You know how you feel when your finger reaches out and tries to touch a raindrop sliding down the other side of a window? That's distance for you. Something which can never be bridged without breaking whatever's in between.
Note: Text in blue - Lyrics from the song 'Desperado' by the Eagles. Title and post inspired by the same.
And yes, this post is fiction. If anyone asks me otherwise, they're going to get it.


LUCKY said...

ok.. i aint gonna ask u otherwise... but sounds like premonition to somethin.. i defn hope not!

Brood Mode said...

"And yes, this post is fiction. If anyone asks me otherwise, they're going to get it."

sound like words written just for me!

"You know how you feel when your finger reaches out and tries to touch a raindrop sliding down the other side of a window? That's distance for you. Something which can never be bridged without breaking whatever's in between."

beautifully written!

catch 22 said...

Fiction eh? I would buy that. ;)Beautifully written as always. I jus wonder could I ever reach where u r now in the writing realm. I wish i could get the same reading pleasure which I get reading ur posts on reading mine too.

Could relate to every word of it, looks like tailor made for me :)

Anonymous said...

Started perusing thro your blogs of late...
There is something in your writing dude.which tickles suppressed thoughts in mine..
Am sure you will be satiated with the numerous comments and appreciations you get -still.

"You know how you feel when your finger reaches out and tries to touch a raindrop sliding down the other side of a window? That's distance for you. Something which can never be bridged without breaking whatever's in between.""


More later from me.

Karthik said...

Amaaaaaaaazing , Awesoooooooooome da !!! have no words to describe it !!!

The Man Who Wasnt There said... are getting to be a good story teller..the right nuances,the brilliant imagery (as usual..your strength),deft weaving of psychology and philosophy,a quotidian setting,mundane activites of a 'self-sufficient person emotionally and intellectually',a protagonist who isnt one...


You know how you feel when your finger reaches out and tries to touch a raindrop sliding down the other side of a window? That's distance for you. Something which can never be bridged without breaking whatever's in between

There are some lines which when we type in we know will strike a chord with the people in a profound way...Guess you felt the same thing as Robert Frost would have felt when he wrote..
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference

That's my favorite lines and am I comparing that raindrop analogy to it...that's the greatest compliment I can give as far as I am concerned...

musafir said...

lucky: No, no, not a premonition. Just fiction. And thanks for not asking otherwise :)

brood mode: Thanks for the comment, appreciate it.

"sound like words written just for me!" -- Now, what made you think that? :D

catch 22: Thanks :)

Come, come, you know me. I just got a little serious with my dabbling, that's all.

And you keep writing :)

anonymous: Another anonymous...hmm...the way you say "dude" is vaguely familiar. Do I know you?

As for the comments and appreciation, you couldn't be farther from the truth. Much as it sounds unlikely, my blog is read by just a handful of people who know me in real life, and a floating population of a few bloggers whose writing I like. So, in other words, your comments are always welcome. And some criticism would be nice as well :) The others are too scared of me you know ;)

Thanks for dropping by and commenting -- appreciate it :)

karthik: :)

girish...!: You know, if it was anybody else, I would have brushed the praise off lightly, but coming from you, I know it's nothing if not sincere. Thanks a lot :)

And a wonderful critique of the post. You've gotten into the skin of the writing, seen everything that I've infused into the post.

Thanks a ton :) Gives me the encouragement to keep improving!

Anonymous said...

Yeah do know me and about the handfulla ppl who know you and read your blog .well I shall just say am handfull +1 :-)
rajesh sabapathy profess greater meticulousness in your writing than youdid in your micro controller proj.
great going.
let the song continue..
the adulations shall pour in..

Prat said...

The pace you set with three voices is just so...yes, ethereal :)
the stlye is impeccable and the way you varied pitch and voices was so so smooth! Bravo!
Particularly loved this, just for the fact that it can be extended into so many dimensions:
" It doesn't matter even if you see it coming. It still hurts."

Kripa Shankar said...


How do we know said...

Fundooo!! Just plain FUNDOO!!

musafir said...

anonymous: Now who are you? This isn't funny, really. I don't like being made a fool of on my blog. This is my turf! Hear that?? You better reveal yourself, or else...or else...or else...forget it, you don't wanna know.

Is this Vikram? Deepan? I so hate this. Grrrrr, why do you have to do this to me? I have an image to maintain here.

prat: And I was waiting for someone to pick that line up. I guess the others read it as well, but yeah, you had to come along and highlight it! And yes, it does have a lot of dimensions. Glad you could see that :)

Thanks for saying all those wonderful things about my writing. I am not really sure if it's that good, yet :)

kripa shankar: :)

how do we know: err...I'm assuming that's a compliment - Thanks :)

Anonymous said...

Romba nalla irukku.

musafir said...

anonymous: Thanks :)

~SuCh~ said...

I know this comment is years too late...

But a beatiful post, with fabulous lines...

Shows how well you can craft a sentence, and how words and thought are putty in your hands...

I sometimes feel your writing should be thrown open to a wider audience... but there is something pristine about your work, that is so original even if inspired, which makes one want to hide it away in a place where the hypocritic hands of the collective mind cant reach...

and yes, Eagles have some great lyrics... despite all the devil-worship rumours...

Like listening to pretty maids all in a row..though havent caught all the lyrics yet...