Poet On a Motorbike...

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Sunday, 28 February 2010


Another slow day of work tottering to an end; Jan the 11th. I go to sleep thinking of the vista of seeing my sister after almost a year. My darling sister, I still remember the day she was born. When my aunt passed the sweetest thing I had ever seen onto my hands. Her little eyes twinkled and she smiled. She was the apple of my eye for many years. Sisters and brothers always have the biggest and silliest fights. As she grew older she became more and more irksome like her mom ( lol ) and we had fights all the time. The day I was really cross with her was when she spied on me and my girlfriend, the issue became a family fiasco and resulted in ending my relationship. I couldn’t forgive Ammu (my sis) for that. We did not talk for a while. But then I started missing my sister. How could I possibly not be acquainted with my only sister? The brother sister bond was ignited again. This time I would never let go of my sweetheart. When she rest her head on my shoulder, when she held my arm was a feeling more than heaven. 

I left for Central London to see my aunt, uncle and sis. It was an immediate snap back to reality. The life in London had hardened me, a place where people learned to care about themselves alone, where ones life was all that mattered. I was reacquainted with the life where everyone loved each other and the care and respect was enormous. Chivalry was a must in my family and the eldest was always responsible for taking care of the rest of the family. I was reinstated that honor when I met my aunt and sister.  Well now I was the unofficial tour guide and was handed the responsibility of dispensing knowledge about a city which I had never really explored on my own. The role of being a tour guide did not sit well with me especially in the cold winter, but the prospect of spending time with my sister was much too precious for me to let go. I called my best mate to ask directions for the tour and guided my tour bus towards the national art of museum. A truth that I am realizing slowly on my own is the fact is that I am shallow. I really don’t see the point in spending time at a place when it’s not going to heed no benefit, same goes for people. The national museum did not allow any cameras, “What am I supposed to do now, look at old paintings? “Is what transcended through my mind. I entered the museum putting on my artistic cap, trying my best to sync in to the estranged environment. To my amazement I found some of the most astonishing paintings I’d seen, add to that the pretty looking female’s that surrounded the place. I just loved girls who were intellectual and loved art. Now there lay a new hub to find sexy sophisticated girls I said to my male chauvinistic mind ;).

The typical Indian woman, what can you say about them? You love them, you hate them. The affection and care that they show portrays what a woman should be, on the other hand their ignorance and senselessness plays gullibly with your temper. There were times on the trip I had to talk myself into spending time with my aunt. The sheer unawareness pissed you while the love just blew you away. Her concept of touring London was all about taking photos, she knew nothing about it, nor did she want to, all she wanted to do was click away and that’s what she did gleefully. I could almost imagine her boasting to her friends back home while narrating through the pictures or the video.

The drift between me and my sister had actually done wonders to our rapport. I had already made my self believe that I had no right to neither discipline her nor force my authority on her. I had been out her life for a long time, when she grew up; I could not come up from nowhere and establish my brotherly rights on her. We talked, about everything; we had become friends now. I never enforced anything on her, but she never did anything without my consent either. She would never defy me, and both of us knew that I could never say NO to anything she sought; the twinkle in my eye. I missed her, the very second I said goodbye to her. All that went through my mind on my journey back is that I wanted to go back, spend some more time with her.

The last day with my relatives at central London had dragged me to Primark stores. It wasn’t a supermarket of clothes; it was a supermarket of the finest girls in the world. The range and the selection were unparallel. Tall, blonde, dark, tanned, curvy, stunning, beautiful, sexy; the list went on. I fell in love over and over with each girl I saw, and my heart sang “All I want is you”. Her dashing smile, her precious eyes, the scent of an angel, it was the most natural thing in the world. I kissed and embraced the moment but then I had to let go.

Thoughts at the end of the exhausting week

I love and miss my sister

I love my aunt; she is the funniest person I know.

A marriage is never perfect; you can only play the wonderful tunes if you play both the black and the white keys.

As I stood in Madame Tussauds, I couldn’t differentiate between the zombies and the real people, and then it struck me, it’s not very different outside either.

And the song; “I cant help falling in love with you”.( goes out to all the beautiful girls in the world).


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