Her Tears

  When she was just a wee little girl she had so many dreams, so many plans, so much of everything in that big head of hers. Now she is older, taller, and probably wiser, and her fantastic imagination has grown up with her. She had always wanted to dance in sapphire,mustard fields, with delicate fairies, and discover lonesome mermaids on jagged rocks amongst countless other things; but now she had downsized her great list- she only wanted to be happy.

  All she ever wanted was to be happy. She would smile in the mirror everyday, practicing how to laugh, and flash her pearly whites, as her face pulled muscles from many different angles. But her cheeks never heaved in rosy mounds, her eye brows never dipped with genuine pleasure, and  her  eyes never creased with unadulterated laughter. She smiled not by sensation, but by practice.

 Her heart felt heavy, lonely, and was suddenly yearning. Her emotions dangled fragilely  beneath her welling eyes, which occasionally got lost, staring widely into foggy space. She felt raw, almost naked in front of her own reflection. A stranger gazed back at her, ashen, gently melting away, dripping ivory onto the tiled floor. She was a sad girl cloaked in an empty shell of what once was.

When panic would creep in and begin to bite her brain, she would shut her mind- down completely.  All the anguish would disappear. And for the first time she would feel nothing,only a distinctive hollowness. It was a narcotic, her drug, and she knew she was starved for oxygen as she would welcome the deep slumber that followed. 

 With a mighty noise the walls would come crashing down, and the room would be filled with giddy sparks. She would wake up, lying flat on her back, hysterical tears drowning her contorted face. Her eyes automatically snapped shut- an instinctive reaction to escape the throbbing torture harvesting her chest. Consciousness had hurled a roaring avalanche at her, as her memory  would come back, gushing, and cutting.

“Oh, God! Oh God!” she would cry, now on her knees, covering her ears with her fists, rocking back and forth, moaning and sobbing.  Tears pushed and shoved forth her eyes, painting her pale cheeks with stained streaks of sorrow. She was sinking, she felt herself cracking. She was so sad , she did not know what to do. “Oh God!” she would whisper,

 “I can’t make it stop! My heart is breaking, and I don’t know why.....”.

SHE

She talked the talk like you could never imagine. Visiting exotic corners of the world, acting in artsy theaters, shooting professional portfolios…you name it, and she dreamt it. The nitty-gritty details such as the sounds, smells, and colours morphed to her ever changing moods, but she always finished her visions with the tumultuous sound of a standing ovation.

Morning Blues

“I’m scared this is it,” she sighed to me, one sunny morning.

“What is what?” I frowned, trying to make light of her sudden need to confess amidst our ginger-chai ritual.

“Ufff - forget it!” she growled, clenching her white fists, obviously irritated at my lack of concentration (seemingly not too shy of punching it right back into me).

“Anger management professional,” I teased, as she pulled and twisted her amber curls around her shapely fingers.

“Shut up!” she barked, a little too quickly in retort, distorting her voice to an almost shriek-like pitch. 

A gurgle of mirth burst forth from her sullen face as she desperately tried to swallow it back, as if to prove a point to me by remaining miserable. But her intrinsic love for laughter burst through, drowning her sulking performance in peals of infectious, happy noise.

Feisty Times

We liked to think we never fought. But the one time we did, it took the form of a somewhat awkward, alien situation where neither of us knew how to react- more terrible then impromptu actors with a poor script.

“Don’t walk away from me… stop and come back…JUST COME BACK!” she frothed, zapping me with sizzling beams shooting from her dark hazel eyes. 

Who the heck would run after me a whole kilometer, to say that, after I’d dramatically stormed from the scene? I was taken by surprise, and became a tad confused on how to react in the current high pressure situation. So I just stared back into those burning eyes that stared right back at me.

We stood there like that for a few minutes, and then got bored of being mad. Crinkles of amusement crept onto our stony faces, speedily escalating into snorts of hysterical amusement. 

“Let’s get an ice- cream,” she chuckled wiping a tear from her eye. 

And that’s what we did, swinging our arms, hand in hand, recalling our first fight with each other, as if we had never been present when it actually happened.

Broken Hearts

“I’m running away with him,” she announced wearily on the phone one night. “It’s the only way…my parents hate him.”

“No. No. No. No you can’t,” was all I could retort given the sudden nature of the announcement.

“But I love him!” she snapped back hurriedly,  annoyed at my unsupportive reaction.
“Anyway you don’t understand these things,” she spat in my ear, causing a static pop through the telephone line.

“Hello, helloooooo, you still there?” she asked taking a breath from her defensive rant.

“Yeah,” I grumbled, wanting to have something wiser to say, just about right now.

“I love him….” she trailed wearily through what sounded identical to a broken sob.

“No you don’t,” I said evenly, into the now weeping receiver.

What happened next was a blur. But what was important was that I was right. It wasn't love. And she did not run anywhere, with anyone- thank God!

Unspoken Words

“She is so happy you’re going to be there with her. I’m so glad you’re here for her,” her mother gushed, hugging me tight like she always did when I arrived back home.

The next morning I went to see her. She was huge, and her eyes looked like those of a giant panda.

“Hey,” she said smiling, leaning forward to grab me tight.

We stood like that for a split moment, and then she was back.

“I mean you don’t have to be there if you’re scared you know,” she mumbled, raising her swollen calves onto the wooden stool.

“Of course I’ll be there,” I replied, rolling my eyes at her eight month pregnant, all pervasive belly.

This was probably the millionth time we were having this same conversation.

“I’m just saying you know….no pressure…I really don’t mind,"she went on, squinting into the sun, as I massaged her swollen limbs.

“Just relax,” I said patting her head in desperate need to change the subject.
I was terrible at this emotional/consoling business, but it worked for us, since she was too.

Re-Birth 

“Push! Push! Push!” were the only words directed towards her as she lay in a pool of her own perspiration.

“It’s okay,” I said squeezing her hand (the way the midwife told me to). “Just breathe.” 

I had no clue what I was saying or doing, but it didn't matter as long I played my part to perfection.

“Write down all of her contractions, and when they occur. We need the time and length of each one,” a voice yelled at me. 

“Sure. Yes. I’m on it,” I said, grabbing a pen and a piece of paper before rushing back to her side.

She was outside on the balcony, taking a break from her false labour. 

“Babies eh?” she smiled weakly, as I approached.
“Yes babies!” I grinned reaching out for the other chair.

“They better be cute,” she frowned rubbing her belly with intense concentration.

“Don’t worry,” I said, “I’ll still pretend they are.”

“I’m serious,” she giggled, flashing me her pearly whites.
“Me too,” I replied in mock horror, grabbing her hand to help pull up her massive weight.

“Thank you,” she groaned, now on her feet.
 “Thank you,” she confided into the shadows, her voice catching a little.

To my relief the sun had set a long time ago, so she could not see my face, nor I hers… or that’s at least how I tell this story.

Cupidity

She giggled into her glass, brushing away the strand of hair that fell over her right eye. Her drink was over, and the ice clinked nosily as she walked towards the booming speakers. She turned the dark knob up on the stereo,swaying her hips in rhythm to the blasting music, singing loudly, but slightly off tune to her favourite song. “Turn it a bit down!” someone said, so she did, smiling all the time, and moving to every beat.

The ice had almost melted, and she frowned at her empty cup. “ More!” she yelled, raising it up in the air, pushing her way through the room of warm, busy bodies. Someone grabbed her hand, and an arm magically held her waist, swirling her to a rhythm that she immediately recognized.  She forgot her wanting drink, and raised her arms in the air, shimmying to a drum solo that just about started.Her eyes shone bright, as she licked off  the  lip-gloss from her smiling lips, then wiping away the plastered hair, from her glistening face. The music faded out for a minute, right before the next track started. “I’ll be back” she said to her new friends on their make-shift dance floor, reaching out to open the closed door.

A gust of laughter hit her face, as she waved and greeted alternate faces in the tight crowd. A hazy smoke drifted lazily in the air, as more glowing wands lit up the room. "A light please?" she asked, leaning forward towards him, her arched eyebrows quizzical, and her red lips pursed tight. "Your wish is my command, my lady " he said, lighting her up, as she brushed aside a few stray locks. She inhaled deeply, holding her breath for a few seconds before letting it out with a soft sigh. She felt good, as if she were walking on air, her head almost giddy from the sudden rush. She squeezed her eyes shut, licking her lips, before opening them wide to him see him blatantly studying her. She held his raw gaze for a minute, as his amber eyes burned right into her, intense and naked with desire. Flustered and slightly embarrassed, she looked away, trying to find someone, or something else to occupy her now blushing attention. 

“Another?” he asked, breaking her away from her desperate attempt towards distraction. She stared blankly, trying to string sense into what was being asked. “Huh?” she grunted instinctively, forcing him to flash a set of shiny pearls. “Another drink?” he smirked pointing at her lonesome glass, which now lay sadly by her bare feet. “Oh yes!” she said, a little too high pitched, hugging her arms, and then stretching them high,fingers pointing to the ceiling. His laugh trembled baritone, vibrating through the thick air, as he took a long stride  towards her. She stood still,crashing into his hard chest, breathing in his musky smell. She looked up slowly, her chocolate eyes rotating clockwise, almost as if procrastinating the inevitable. Their eyes met. He dropped his hands to his belt, making his muscles ripple a smooth stony sweep across his chest- "like granite"- she thought, letting her gaze trickle down, over his tanned skin, solid shoulders and shapely biceps, up to his chiseled jawline and mane of chestnut hair. His eyebrows were chestnut too, and one was raised in silent question.

She licked her lips, and felt a hungry grin spread across her flushed face. Her heels were long forgotten, kicked off  in the other room, so she hooked her arm around his strong neck, letting her full weight press against him,as she tip-toed to touch his lips, pressing further into him as she did so. He stood still, unresponsive, wearing her like a beautiful coat across his chiseled front.  Heaving a sigh of disappointment, she stepped back, his lack of participation dampening her mood. Gliding herself off him,she stood still, head dipping low, as she tied her raven hair away from her pale face. A hint of a smile touched his golden eyes, as he gently pushed her back against the kitchen wall, slipping his hand behind, to the small of her back, dragging her towards him like an irrevocable force of gravity. His teeth suddenly caught her lower lip, tugging on it gently, and she curved her back in instant response. He nibbled on her lips, now stroking her back, kissing away the confusion that clouded her mind. A bronzed  arm snaked around her waist, jerking her closer, while the other rubbed up her back, loosening her hair pins, one by one, freeing her curls to shower down upon them.

Swallys Beach Shack: Baga Beach Goa

It was noon when we arrived, and immediately we lay splayed flat under thatched umbrellas in front of what would become our favourite Beach Shack: Swallys, in Khobravaddo (behind Villa Goesa – a Baga Beach resort). This Baga Beach shack, though just a hut with red plastic tables, was perfect. We sat back, played footsie with the sea, and flipped through an endless menu that offered almost every cuisine under the sun. I ordered fresh-squeezed pineapple juice and Kim, my partner in crime, chose tandoori paneer (marinated cheese baked in a clay oven), which Biltoo, our server, recommended. It was cheese heaven! After filling our bellies (a little more than necessary), we headed to Swally’s private beach, settled into lounge chairs, and began soaking up the sun.

Read more at http://sambawalker.com/places/baga-beach-goa

Raintree Cafe & Boutique: Windsor Manor Bangalore

India is great. Over a billion people, and 28 states, yet Karnataka is one of my favourites...which brings me to its capital - Bangalore. Unlike other bustling metros, an exclusive calm prevails over everything else in the city. Don’t get me wrong, honking yellow autos, determined scruffy beggars, and random floating garbage are still prominent features of the scene. However within all this chaos, shiny buildings and busybodies, there’s an unidentifiable romanticism that fills the air. I visited one place, called Rain Tree Cafe, that proved my escapist theories of this green and flowering city to be more than a mere fantasy.

Keep reading more at http://sambawalker.com/places/rain-tree-cafe-bangalore

Mayapur Eco Foods: A slice of Italy in Mayapur India

The coal glowed red as I stared into the tunnel of flames dancing in front of me. I wasn’t contemplating life & death but impatiently waiting for my loaf of organic, wood-oven bread! The smell lingered despite the strong breeze, teasing my already smitten senses with wafts of freshly baked goodness. I cut a slice of steaming-hot bread, smothered it with slabs of fresh mozzarella, and let the dark sapphire olive oil dribble down my chin. 

Continue reading at http://sambawalker.com/places/mayapur-eco-foods

To Feel...

I want to inhale that feeling that makes me want to swoon and soar at the same time;that feeling that makes me want to smile, and whistle all day.

I want to hold on to those intoxicated butterflies, fluttering through my chest, before they settle at the very core of my pit; their wings  shuddering in unknown anticipation.

I want to softly sway to that loud music which plays in my head, joining the chorus of sweet  harmony that never stops . The rhythm is pumped up to full bass, humming  in unison with my thumping heart.

I want to release those unshed tears, freeing them from their caged prison, thus relieving myself of hoarded emotions. The guilt doesn’t die as easy, but the torrential downpour helps wash away the pain.

I want to laugh time away, my body quivering  in spasms of  delicious joy that can be experienced in no other way. My head rolls deliriously drunk on pure exhilaration, soon to be accompanied by an aching jaw.

I want to sing at the top of my lungs, and bellow every note till they reach their highest key, before tumbling down in a heap of broken tunes. I will then sweep them up , and start again, gluing chipped pieces together to form a whole new song.

I want to look at where I am, and remember how I started out; not as empty as I am now, but just as that little girl I once was. I would clap my hands and climb the highest trees-so happy I could die!

I want so much,and know exactly what I want, every shining detail glittering gold, studded with chiseled diamonds. I am still young, a little too bright, and just complex enough in design. to get it all right . 

I want to feel all these feelings, unadulterated by the said possibilities, and threats of  their apparent consequences.Though many fail too see through my rose tinted aspirations, I was in desperate want of repair; for I was broken.

However reality is cruel, and waits for none. An expert in exposing ones greatest fears, it’s stench had already settled deep, crushing my hopeful spirit, and flooding my brain with dark uncertainty. Logic was long infected by doubt, and this is when the voices  started cackling hysterically, repeatedly saying, “For what are the use of  big dreams girl, if you’re too afraid to feel?”

Once upon a time...

Once upon a time, so very long ago, there lived a beautiful princess, who wept her heart dry. Crystal tears of sorrow forever stained her lovely face, collecting in a glossy pool by her little, cringing toes. She had tried everything to make them stop, but they took no heed to her painstaking efforts, gushing forth to kiss her rosy cheeks again and again. Damp and glistening, she subdued to their torrential pour, blinking away blurry visions of something different, somewhere far, far away. 

She whimpered a mute sound into the ether, curling into ball of pain, her once luscious locks limply splayed on the dank dirt, merging with their dull, singed colours. Her once shining eyes were faded to a pale vision, and her pearly skin had withered a thousand years. Her every limb ached, as she unfurled gently, splaying her boney fingers, only to bring them back in clenched fists. The tenderness she had once lovingly nurtured grew no more. Stunted with shock, parched, and wilted, it had been weeded cruelly by its roots, not one trace left to remember it by.

 Is this the rightful end for a princess, who knew not the pleasures of seducing laughter, and pretty little things? Was it fair that she embraced a life of torture, rather than delightful songs? Where was her prince in shining armour, when she wept herself to decay? These queries stabbed her repeatedly, sharp and jagged, as she bled alive. She feebly begged to be released from this wicked game that she was caught up in, gasping for air through muffled pleas...but sweet escape coldly shunned her , yet again. 

Drowning only deeper by the second, she cried out in vain, her voice choked in woe, her heart blue with damage. But not a sound was heard beneath the layers of smothering distress that disguised her soul. She stopped trying soon after this; grating frustration had now turned old and grey. Hope had fizzled away like a scorned lover, too scared to ask for a second chance. 

She is now but a distant memory; her quaking suffering merely a sad story. People now just sigh in her memory as they walk away, shaking their heads with false pity, as they whisper to one another, “Once upon a time, so very long ago, there lived a beautiful princess...”.

Diet of Despair

I lie in a pool of my own sweat. It’s clammy dew plasters strands of brown hair on my pale cheek. I am striped, marked, and drowning in self-despair. 

I fought hard at first, my face painted for battle, as I bellowed with a newfound miraculous determination to defeat all ills; After all effort is needed for stunning results. I surged towards the enemy, my claws cutting, and my lips pursed, I was ready to take all by storm...and I did.

Glorious is the past.

Now I have retired here, as my desire doesn’t even put up a good fight before fading away as a sad, distant memory. I can’t move, I can’t think, I can’t breath...I am trapped within my own mind. It clings possessively to my brain, grabbing my heart with both hands, and squeezing me dry.Dehydrated of ambition, I long to feel it’s hungering metallic taste trickle through my heavy sighs, onto my lifeless tongue. I bite hard, but feel nothing. My ashen lips are now washed crimson, but my skin is yet lifeless in waste. Deprived of all sparks, I gleam in moist desperation... hoping, and praying that tomorrow I will be better ready for war.

Lonesome

I lie awake in an empty room

As traffic roars outside,

A need to vanquish this growing gloom,

In need to confide

I'm surrounded by familiar faces

But no one says a word

A million thoughts ,my mind races

To corners more absurd

The heavy silence drags a pause

As the wind heaves a sigh

My face is blank, I'm at a loss, 

I've lost the urge to try

Buried deep, beneath my core

I gasp for living air,

The strain of facing another day

Drowns me in despair

I blink twice and hold my breath,

my eyes beg to close,

Yet too alive to wish for death,

My misery only grows

A little voice whispers weak,

A secret in my ear,

The peace I  crave and deeply seek

Is shrouded by my fear

A lonesome tear fights the urge

To pour in dark defeat,

Fighting hard to embrace the surge

In hope of something sweet.

Castles and Waffles

 I winced and rubbed as the nippy air bit a raw chunk off my cheek. Three layers wrapped me tight in their warm embrace as I wobbled down the grey paths like a penguin in heat. I was literally standing in the smallest township on Earth, Durbuy. If excitement equaled warmth, I would be on fire right now!

Thick with trees and gaping travelers, this fairy-tale Walloon (distinctive community within Belgium) city sits smugly enchanting, 31 kilometers south of Liege, in the Belgian province of Luxembourg. My inundated senses struggle hard towards recovery, stunned by the virtual labyrinth of medieval fantasy that beckoned it forward.

Cobbled lanes shyly wound their ashen bodies through the majestic forest of towering cathedrals, belfries, and citadels, bashfully jumping over arches, canals, and stone bridges, leading me to their most private courts and secret gardens. Gladly seduced by every tiny gap discovered between these looming historic castles, I walked deeper into buttressed passages that silently promised hidden treasures (Disclaimer: multitasking starry-eyed daydreams whilst keeping a balance on steep, crooked European streets, proved harder than imagined). 

Every nook and cranny dangled colourful baskets of flowers that brightly popped through cavernous cracks in their vine-laced walls. Tucked within these spirited gullies lay a quaint scatter of cottage Pubs; their fires crackling loudly, as their walls rumbled deafeningly with contagious laughter that only bounced back to create further merry. I was hypnotized to invite myself in.


Blondes, ambers, pale lagers, fruity lambics and Flemish reds smiled down at me from their lofty shelves and frothy taps, sweetly beckoning me with their foamy tops. Justly famous for its brewing tradition, this cozy country has more than 100 breweries producing hundreds more in variety of brews. Needless to say, with so many choices, I was a tad worried on finding my favourite. The attraction was undeniably magnetic. I picked the vibrant kriek - its tart cherry flavour still alive in my fondest memories- it was, irrefutably, love at first sip.

Outside the sky was almost purple, streaked with a defiant orange beam peeking through the silver-lined clouds. Its warm red glow caressed my arm, painting me flushed with the shadow of its light. As I stepped out, a delicious waft tickled my resolve. I quickened my idle steps towards the gushing canals that flowed past the monumental square backed with perfect gingerbread houses. Rows of noisy stalls suddenly appeared, and along with them hoards of hungry people.

Refusing to feel left out I greedily ordered. One mountain of crispy frites (the original “french-fries”) generously topped with a customary peak of creamy mayonnaise; a delicious grid of fluffy waffles cooked to perfection, oozing smooth nutella (chocolate-hazelnut pâté) onto my drooling palate; and an assortment of chocolate armoured pralines with silky fondant hearts made up an extravagant feast.
I hid between the rows of tempting chocolateries, next to the chiming clock tower, stabbing my pink plastic fork into the ambrosia spread in front of me. A few dainty bites later, and then I gave in. With a shifty look here, and a mortified blush there, I viciously dug into the caramel gooeyness, decorum long snatched by a passing breeze.

Darkness crept in, as a dim congregation of lights winked cheerily into its gloom. A striped canvas flag whipped soundlessly to the drifting strums of a random guitar. Floating paper lanterns flickered to life, fighting for space with the leftover tinsel decorations. The wind whistled its shrill tune into my frosty ears, as I hummed in harmonious unison, perfectly content midst these intimate nooks filled with people toasting Durbuys’ beauty.