naomi says i should write.so....I SHALL WRITE!see,the thing is,i have all this frustration pent up inside me,and its imperative for me to take it all out some way or the other...and the only way i can think of right now is to write..
so there was this personality thingamajig in college today..and i happily went and took part in it,thinking that since i had won the first time,i was bound to win again..but,as luck wud have it,not only did i lose,i actually SUCKED.bigtime.can we have a big round of applause for the loser please!!
neway,i feel better already..thanx naomi!i shall go for my play practice now..and if that sucks too,trust me,I WILL BE BACK!

Ode on the death of a favourite house

Ode on the death of a favourite house

By Thomas not so Grey

I used to love running around in your grounds

I used to love playing badminton in your courtyard.

To the left of this magnificent structure which was once mine

Lies a patch of green

Where I spent endless hours learning how to ride all sorts of vehicles…

From bicycles, to ‘kinetic style’, to, hopefully, before I finally bid farewell-

My dad’s old rusted bike.

With your wooden furniture and red and green floors,

There’s not one thing I won’t miss about you dear house...

I only wish we didn’t have to leave so soon.

For, I know, and always will,

The seventeen years I have spent here are not enough

To truly enjoy you, feel you, love you

And, I am ashamed to admit, use you.

People talk about shifting,

Moving away,

Like it doesn’t mean nething.

‘Its something you HAVE to do some or the other day’, says, well, practically everybody.

WHY? Why now, why today?

Why, at all?

I live, allow my house to.

I breathe; let my house, too!

They’re going to tear apart the walls

Where I used to draw balloons with Camlin crayons,

And, a few years hence, paint balloons with fabric colours.

Where I hung all my paintings,

Where I saw photographs of myself and my family hanging-

Constant reminders

Of the times gone by.

They’re going to cut down the trees

Whose branches I once climbed to retrieve badminton corks

(How they got there, I haven’t yet found out

And probably, I never will.)

The bakery where once I used to treat my friends to ‘rum balls’,

And young couples would come and enjoy, in their various strange,

But still entertaining, ways…

For heavens sake!

They actually have the audacity to ‘kill’ the place where

The man who gave life to me

Was born.

‘If only I could turn back time’

Is a phrase I often use

Not really meaning it.

Today, I say it with all my heart, all my energy, all my soul.

If only I could turn back time, dear, dear house,

I’d make sure you were treated better,

Respected more.

Enjoyed to your fullest potential, and much much further.

No more bursting firecrackers on Diwali in your beautiful verandah.

No more watching 3rd march parades while standing on your staircase

No more direct views of melas happening in ‘Gopal Maidan’

No more leaning on the railing and enjoying the rains,

No more star gazing on full moon nights.

No more running after butterflies in your gardens

No more hurrying to pick up the wind plucked ‘bel’ before someone else could

No more Gypsy, no more Lia.

No more “pranam dadi’s/kaku’s/kaki’s”.

No more,

Of things that meant everything to me.

And always, always will.

As my heart breaks into a thousand pieces…

As I leave your sacred grounds,

My only prayer is that you understand

What you mean to me,

To my family.

To everyone who has ever stepped inside your very depths.

For, today, dear house, I can think of no worse punishment for all the wrong that I have ever done

Than being forced to leave you.

I’ll miss you

And I hope you’ll miss me too.

Love,

Your biggest fan.