Anita or Annie as she was known now, slim & tall, pretty face with a wide smile, straight hair two inches below the shoulder, is a God's gift to be friends with. The long eyebrows on the twinkling eyes with a broad smile is what you see even when her entire life is upside down. Even if she doesn't want what is happening around, she would say that's what she wants.

She was Sandy's best friend in their college days, Sandy moved to London after graduating from Bombay, Anita came to US to continue her studies.

Strange, but true, it has been three years since I learnt about the BF. The BF is a craze the techno sites drool on; you never know whose got the best algorithm. I am off to New York, may be I will catch the best of both world, post christmas sell at London and Thanksgiving sale at New York.

Anita, a trained artist & photographer, is having her show on December 4th. Sandy wouldn't make it. My trip from Heathrow to JFK was pretty tiring.

Got outside of JFK, scanned the yellow cabs with medallion on them.Somehow I was attracted to 1316. Got into it and asked the cab driver to take me to manhattan. Nassau expy, Woodhaven Blvd, I 495, 34th Avenue and then 49th. - a screech ride.

Ray of light touches my soul and I rejoice
If this is so wrong why do I jump with joy
Why does my heart skip a beat when I think of HIM?
Why does my body melt and my thought swim
They say not a leaf can move without his command
What is this - then, Is this his plan
Is this a lesson he is trying me to teach
Do not yearn, love what you keep
I do, I say, I love what I have
Are these just thoughts written in sand?
What is it that I see in HIM?
Why is my love filled to the brim?
What do I do when it overflows?
Help me GOD! let me know
Please show me the way
I want to love him but I do not dare;
Let him see my plight
Let me win this fight
How will I know that I have won?
Will it be in letting go - or in fighting with reason
Please find him someone to love
So I can smile at them from above
Give him so much that he cannot bear,
To think that he ever had to fear
Touching someone else's gold
When All it really was coal!

....it was weird to see the leaves of life spread before me. Anjali wrote this when she was alone, post our 2nd or 3rd meeting. I was alone on a train back to my home town, when I had scribbled the few lines.

It was so akward, destiny - chance & what not! ..was playing. An old paper -torn & lifeless perched on the table, a buzz & sweet memories of yellow lilies all haunted me at once- I stopped breathing I think, before I could reply ....to being called Rohi... Who is it?
Up 4 a guess game ?
Duno mind.. I wish I never had to play that. My obvious guess and best guess would belittle me infront of Sandy. She had been a real sport all way from the yellow lilies to pink trumpet creepers to red roses.

The entire past flashed right there, before I could key Is it Anji!!!
She stayed right across the street, I think I was in my Senior Year then. I had spent days wondering what talking to her would be watching quietly through the eyehole. The glossy lips, the dark brown flowing hair, the tanned complexion -- all in one sneek out of her door and disappear from the wide angel of my key hole.
I wished if something could be common ......
buzz the yellow lillies ...red roses...it all blurred Yes Dear, Still you can sense when I am there!..how odd

From the window of a train:


The sun has set down
Blue-Yellow-red is the nature's gown
Pebbles, Pebbles and only pebbles
Are there when you look down
Running rails- parrys the downcast wind
A handicap - hauling things right behind
Was enough for me to remind
The sun didn't set down
Blue; Red; Yellow are only her gown

Besides the door
Rght the very first window
Is where I have my seat
To the rythmn of the train , the heart beat
With half dead men I was surround

Gazing eyes, twinkling lashes
Were they carrying someone's ashes
Eyes petrified
As if somone died

Wasn't I coming strong
To Hell with --
My wishes -- they didn't belong

But why do I look inside?
When I have the window
- For its dark outside
And its bright inside
But
Littered is the floor inside
Serene is the ground outside
From the window of a train
TO look outside - is a matter of brain
Event at night
When light is light
For distances there's nothing bright
Time comes when distance is bright
With plensty and plenty of light
Then why to look inside
For Littered is the floor inside

A hour has passed
And its difficult to make out
Barren, brazen is the land
But there's a star in the distant land
Moving right ahead the train
- I see- from the window of a train
It seems as if its our guide
To rules of almighty we abide
Lofty are our ideals
But ideals are like stars
Up alone in the sky
So its for you to decide
You wish to be the lights outside
Grouped together, flocked together
To be bright - as together
Or the stars as a guide
To whose wishes many abide
Lost in the question I look inside
Still littered is the floor inside
Right diagonal by the passage
Sits someoone sending out a message
For a particular work I have been send
To give your neck a little bend
Do look inside
For its betten than outside
For littered is not the floor
It's the reminiscence
Of the bad food you eschewed
Of the good people you viewed
.............................
.........................
Destination is near
The trains on the bridge
.................
Tranquil is the river
Serene is the weaver
Who weaved so well
Few threads up, few down
Giving nature the colorful gown

Pop, the message window opened, the person at the other end refered to me as Rohi..a name very few people called me at college. I reached for a book I was reading yesterday...thud the Oxford English dictitionary fell off my table -- a small folded paper fell on the floor too.