Wednesday, May 17, 2017

Hope

Another blank page stares at me
Waiting
It is waiting to be stained with words
Written in digital ink
I wonder if I will tell a story this time
My first ballad maybe?
I do not feel like writing
But nevertheless the idea
The idea won't be denied
Therefore
I am writing of the present
As the clock ticks on
And rain lashes the windowpanes
I wipe sweat from my brow
And try to differentiate a function
With music, my ally and dear friend
And darkness, my old one
As witnesses
While all around me the silent house
Slumbers in peace
It is now 5 AM
And we are on our way into the light
I close the books and try to sleep
In the growing light that fills me with hope


The Bilge Master

Thursday, May 11, 2017

Coffee

Halloween 2011 was progressing just like an ordinary day would, until the evening came. It brought with it a group of kids out trick or treating. They rang our doorbell and screamed trick or treat into my face. I of course handed them an entire box of sweets from the fridge. I mean who wants to get in trouble with a group of kids?

That same evening, I met the group coming out of another building in the complex. I'd gone to fetch something for my mother. This time, having already tricked and treated me, they stopped and chatted. There was this dark girl with shining black eyes who was clearly the leader of this ragtag bunch and she made an impression on me. She told me she loved Halloween. I told her I did too, principally because I could use my sixth sense well on Halloween to smell out ghosts.

Her eyes widened and she blurted out "How can you do that?" I told her I was born with it. She immediately asked me if there were any ghosts in Sherwood (Sherwood Estate, Narendrapur where we stay) and was very disappointed when I said no.

I saw her in the compound the next day or rather she saw me and introduced herself as "Coffee". I told her that was the name of a beverage. She replied that it was also her name. A friendship was struck up and maintained. Coffee refused to tell me her real name, but she had a brain like a razor blade. We would discuss Harry Potter, Porcupine Tree and The Beatles on walks around the Sherwood compound. She could walk almost as fast as me despite being eight inches shorter.

We became good friends very fast. I think I was drawn to her intellect. She would give me life advice that actually made sense, she would pry into my life but do it in such a way as to not give offense. She told me when her dog passed away, but I never saw her cry.

She was one of the strangest, quirkiest and rewarding friendships I had ever had.

And then, one day she vanished into thin air. She had just mentioned that she was headed for London. That was all the information I got out of her.

We had shifted to Asansol and this flat in Sherwood remained empty for three years, until we came back to Kolkata and moved in here again. I take a walk daily around the campus and I take the route Coffee and me used to take- starting out in front of the clubhouse and circling the entire complex from that epicenter. 

Coming back here has brought back memories of the friendship.
I wonder where Coffee is now. I wonder what she's doing. I wonder if she is ever going to read this and I hope someday I'll see her again. I might be sounding naive but there it is. Let us see what happens next,and if at all this friendship resumes.


The Bilge Master