**WARNING**
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Gibberish 3
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
The Cherry Tree
I saw 5 Centimeters Per Second last year, but I didn’t like it very much. Yesterday I was listening to its soundtrack, and started writing this. There are many references from the movie, and the quotes are from the movie as well.
Eh…it’s silly, but I wanted to write something. So…..
......
Spring. The trees were filled with bright green leaves. It had red cherries too. I remember how we used to pick those cherries from the backyard every year during spring. We still do it. But I kept wondering. What will happen now? Where will time take us? The green leaves dont last long. The cherries too.
I met her during fifth grade. It was not an actual meeting, I just happened to bump her because a friend of mine pushed me. I fell over her pushing her to the ground. Surprised and shocked to find that I fell over a girl, I stood up immediately. She was furious. She slapped me right on my left cheek. I turned all red, and cried in front on everyone. She didnt take pity on me, and walked away with her friends. I couldnt even face her for a few days. I dont know why, but after a week, I wrote a note and put it in her bag during lunch break. After the break, my eyes were all over her, and I caught a smile. She saw me. And showed me the note which I wrote. "Sorry :("
Her name was Kari. I met her when I was in the fifth grade, when I accidentally pushed her over. It just feels like yesterday. But time flies by. And we drift along with it. 5 years had passed, and we didnt spend a single day without talking to each other. We were the best of friends. We talked, laughed, cried together. We were always there for each other. We fought like husband and wife, but without any apologies we would start annoying each other again. But one day….
Summer. The bright leaves had turned lighter, and I found no cherries.
We both had opted for different courses. We wouldnt be in the same school now because her school was in the outskirts of the city, far away from my school and from my house. I was sad. But she wasnt. It was one of the best schools that taught that particular course which she had opted for. She was hopping around in happiness. But I wasnt. I felt mad at myself. How could I? But I couldnt hide the feeling from her, no matter how hard I tried. She noticed me and asked what had happened. I told her everything. She said I was acting dumb, that I thought too much. She said she was in the same city, and we would still be hanging out everyday like we always did. Everything would be the same. Except we would be in different schools. I cursed myself for being so stupid. I was happy for her. She was doing what she wanted. I apologized, and she slapped me in return. "Dont ever apologize. EVER."
Autumn. The leaves had turned to orange. They were shedding. All I could see was thin branches. Not a single green leaf and a cherry.
Two years had passed. And we knew what would happen next. We never talked about it, but deep down inside we knew. We had different goals in mind. We would have to follow separate roads to do what we wanted. One day, Kari and I had spent a whole day together. We spent time playing the guitar and harmonica in our usual place, near the riverside. It was just besides my house. We used to sit near the bank. If our neighbours didnt spot us there, they would ask us the reason. The neighbourhood has changed in the past few years, and they always used to cherish the moment when we used to sit near the river. We saw the setting sun. We talked, what we never talked about. About what we wanted to go after school's over. Indeed, we just knew that we would not be together in a few months. I told her how we used to talk about making our own band. But we didnt, even though we had played together for years. We talked about how we used to pick cherries since we were young infront of my house, and how come we didnt do it these two years. How in a few months, we would make new friends…..maybe best friends. She hugged me, and we sat there seeing the setting sun.
The Sun. The hottest part of the day is during the afternoon, when the sun is at its highest point. People get a lot of trouble and most of the them stay inside during the afternoon. Then just after a few hours, the hot sun eventually comes down, and the temperature becomes cool. People start coming out of their houses to relax. Then the sun sets, but not for long. Because it rises again the next morning with its orange morning rays of light.
A few months passed, and we got separated. She went to a college in the corner most part of the state, and I was still here. It's absurd how time flies by so quickly. For a few months, we missed each other like crazy, and we talked about meeting every day. We talked and talked for hours, never missing a single event in our everyday lives. But this didnt last long.
"The things I had to tell her...
The things I hoped she would listen to...
There were so many of them."
After a year, we stopped having conversations every day. Instead, we used to call each other once in a week. Then the week, turned in to two weeks, then a month. We drifted apart. I found out that she had found her guy. And at that time, I was positive. We weren’t best friends anymore. Time passed by, and we stopped having conversations entirely.
Winter. I could see snow through my window, outside. I remembered how we used to have those snow ball fights. We used to make snow mans and hide behind them for cover. I was so immersed in remembering the past that I went outside, with a wide smile and made a snowball.
But my smile went away, when I could find anyone to hit. Kari wasn’t there.
Months passed, and I took interest upon a certain girl and I hardly thought of Kari anymore.
Summer. The trees were filled with bright green leaves. It had red cherries too. I was day dreaming again, about those times. When...
A phone call. A familiar voice. She told me about the time when we used to pick the cherries from the tree. And said she really wanted to do it right now. Her new house, her new city, didnt have cherry trees. So, she told me to come outside. I was puzzled. But I went outside and my heart skipped a beat.
There she was. The same as always, but five years later. I couldnt recall the last time I saw her or even talked to her. But I hugged her. Tears fell from my eyes. “It’s time to pick up the cherries” she said.
We talked for hours and caught up. She was engaged. And had even gotten a job in a leading company. She was happy, and so was I. We talked about those days, and did all those things which we always did. We sat near the riverside, and and all the neighbours saw a familiar sight. A sight they always wished to see for five years, but couldnt.
Funny thing time. The people who we care about the most, though they have different paths, and even though we eventually forget them as we move on, deep down inside, there is a place for them. And we will always treasure it.
.........
"Hey... They say it's five centimeters per second."
"What do you mean?"
"The speed at which the cherry blossom petals fall... Five centimeters per second."
Monday, May 30, 2011
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Gibberish!...again.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Moonlight
"Since you started playing Yellow. I heard your guitar from the courtyard."
"Oh, ok." I said with a smile. "Are you a Coldplay fan?"
"Yes, I sure am! Hard to find Coldplay fans here, right?"
"Definitely!" I said with excitement.
"Uh, alright. Sure." She sat besides me. On the part where the moonlight shone.
"Nor have I" she said, with a laugh.
Her laugh.
"I..I...well, I dont actually come out often. I mean I do, but not here. The garden side."
"Can you play it? Can you play it?"
"Sure, I havent practiced it very much. I hope you like it."
"Thanks" I said with a smile. "I normally play my guitar at home. I have rarely played it in front of my friends. So I get nervous sometimes." I started touching my hair. WHY? I cursed myself.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
The Ghost Who Wanted A Picture
A simple, somewhat weird and a different story I thought of one day. Tell me how it is. And I have written this story in a new narrative style.
The Ghost Who Wanted A Picture
Mark, a local photographer was living in a busy metropolis. Interested in people, he took pictures of kids and teenagers going to schools, family going on vacations, men and women carrying hurrying around in the city carrying briefcases, old couples holding hands and walking down the streets, enjoying their retired life, during the day. And drunken couples hanging out at the bars, men outside strip clubs, and gang members doing their own business during the night. He was making a living by taking photographs of people for years, but never before had he come across a certain person—a certain spirit perhaps, who wanted his own picture to be taken.
One night, Mark was following people taking photographs of people outside a local Pablo’s Bar. (All You Could Drink was its cheesy punch line) After taking a satisfactory number of pictures, he decided to call it a day. But a peculiar man caught his interest. He was a man who had a strange look on his face, and was carrying a big black plastic bag. Mark, immediately got his hands on his camera, and started following him. He was not ‘stalking’ him, but was only following him, because it was his job to take photographs of people. He followed the strange man across the street and a few blocks. The strange man walked taking long strides around looked around cautiously every time. So Mark had to stop once in a while before following him again. The strange man finally stopped near a dark alley. Perfect shot, Mark thought. But the strange man rushed inside a small shop besides the alley and closed the door shut behind him. Missed, Mark sighed. He looked at the boarding of the shop, but it was not a shop, it was a small company. Wilson’s Baking Company. (We make. We bake. We deliver; was its cheap punch line.) Mark thought what the strange man was carrying. He didn’t have a clue what it was, but it was none of his business anyway.
He looked around the alley. There was an old scooter besides Wilson’s and a cycle besides that. There was a stinking dumpster on one side and an out of business pawn shop (Mark couldn’t make out the name of the shop owning to the darkness) near the end. Apart from that, there was nothing. It was a normal stinking dark alley.
Suddenly, Mark heard a loud noise, which according to him, sounded like ‘CLAM!’ He heard it again, near the dumpster. Then he felt a light cool breeze and when he saw the dumpster again, a white figure was floating above it. Mark tried to scream and run away, but the ghost quieted him down and said it was not here to possess him. The ghost introduced himself as Philip Florence. A poor man who had turned into a small time criminal stealing and tricking people to get some food for his survival. But he ultimately died of hunger. It was his dream to have someone take his picture, but it was never fulfilled. Therefore seeing Mark holding his camera tightly, the ghost asked him to take a picture. Mark found it had to believe because a ghost was actually having a conversation with him. He blinked several times and pinched himself before assuring himself that he was not dreaming. He decided to obey the ghost by taking his picture as he was scared to death and his feet would obey his brain. The ghost posed for the camera and Mark took his picture immediately. But he was right, the ghost didn’t appear in the picture—because simple it was a ghost.
He told the ghost that he couldn’t take his picture properly with great care. He then prepared himself for something worse to happen. But Philip just floated there, with his sad eyes. He said that he had waited years to have his picture taken but now it dream wouldn’t come true. Mark calmed himself down. The ghost was harmless; he thought and tried to reassure him. But the ghost ignored Mark and thought of a new plan. He asked Mark to sketch a picture of him instead. At least, he would be visible in the sketch and he could keep it and see it whenever he wanted to. Mark was speechless. He thought that the ghost had lost his mind and told him that he was a photographer and not an artist. The ghost ignored him again and said in clear words what he wanted. Mark thought about it and came up with his own plan. He had a condition. He told the spirit that he would sketch a picture only if he got something in return—money; and lots of it. The ghost agreed to this condition immediately—because simple it was ghost. He could do anything and in the case steal money without people knowing about it. Damn, I should have demanded for more, Mark thought and cursed himself and told the ghost that he would come tomorrow night.
The next night in the same alley besides the closed pawn shop, Mark came again but not alone. He came along with a professional artist. He had extreme difficulties to convince him to come here at the middle of the night. In the end, he had to pay him double the original amount he demanded. They waited in the dark alley. Hours passed and Mark got frustrated calling the ghost. The artist couldn’t take it anymore and cursed Mark. He called him a psycho, and went away in spite of Mark calling him again and again. At that moment, the ghost appeared. Mark was devastated and asked why he didn’t appear. The ghost replied by saying that he had asked him to sketch a picture for him and not someone else. Mark argued and told that he was not an artist again. But the ignorant ghost asked him to come again the next night with a sketch board and scared him by saying that if he didn’t, he would possess him. Cursing himself for underestimating the ghost, Mark went away.
The next night, Mark saw a man with dark glasses besides Wilson’s talking in his cell silently. The man with the dark glasses totally ignored him and Mark rushed to the end of the alley with his sketch board. Mark wondered who the man was, and why he didn’t ask him anything. Must have been a nut from the bar, he thought. This time the ghost appeared in time. Mark got to work and Philip sat on the dumpster and posed for the sketch. Mark hoped his ninth grade drawing lessons would help him here. It took him 4 hours to finish the sketch according to the ghost’s demands. It was a horrible sketch, according to Mark, but the ghost was pretty much happy with it. But before the ghost could get hold of the sketch board, Mark asked for the money. The ghost thought for a while and saw the man with the glasses at the end of the alley. He was not alone this time and his body was covered in blood. Along with him there was a strange man whose hands were cuffed. Mark shouted at the ghost and followed him. The ghost pulled out the wallet of the man with the dark glasses and threw it to Mark and disappeared. The man with the dark glasses froze for a moment as he felt a cool breeze and went for his pocket. Then he saw Mark, with his wallet. He pulled out his gun and ordered Mark to put his hands up.
Meanwhile, the ghost happy that he got a picture of himself went back besides the pawn shop, took the sketch and floated away in peace leaving Mark who had a hard time convincing the man with the dark glasses that he wasn’t a thief.
*