anuja's: an sms story70

anuja's: an sms story70: "Anna was wearing blue jeans and a very conservative top which accentuated her new-found slimness. a brown thick band of watch on her&nbsp..."

an sms story70

Anna was wearing blue jeans and a very
conservative top which accentuated her
new-found slimness. a brown thick band
of watch on her right wrist. a black leather
handbag.she always feels guilty about using
the leather ones but the substitutes have not
proved to be fit for roughing it up.Khadim footwear.
the only ones that didn't give her feet rough skin.
as she explored  floor to floor...she can tell the
positions of various sections blindfolded...she remembered
her answers to Armaan's messages.

Anna:One of the most
powerful visions i
have experienced
was the first
photograph of
earth from outer
space. The image of
a blue planet
floating in deep
space, glowing like
the full moon on a
clear night...The
Dalai Lama


Anna:Always forgive ur
enemies-nothing
annoys them as
much-oscar wilde



Anna:Never imagine
urself not to be
otherwise than
what it might
appear to others
that what u were or
might have been
was not otherwise
than what u had
been ud have
appeared to them
to be otherwise-alice in wonderland

all the days before Armaan answered, she had waited.
and she had done one other thing. she had opened her documents
and looked for an appropriate pic to go with her Orkut profile.
which could justify her present glam while grasping the old looks...
for an old acquaintance to recognize her as herself, the Anna of
roundish face, thin lips and bright eyes.she looked like a teenager
in her mid-twenties...and she has matured as a woman now and there
lie the difficulty.would he be able to recognize in this woman that girl?
because a girl she was then....                                     (to be contd.)

anuja's: an ams story69

anuja's: an ams story69: "the love that you withhold is the pain that you carry. who said this? she doesn't remember.the line sings in her ears like an attacking b..."

an ams story69

the love that you withhold is the pain that you carry.
who said this? she doesn't remember.the line sings
in her ears like an attacking bee.bee in the bonnet.this
phrase reminds her of Agatha Christie.bee...bonnet..
double bee..Bibi, proper noun...Satyajit Ray' story..
as she searches for her favourite brand Biotique's
numerous items in Bigbazaar.she goes through the
shelves, religiously, choosing or discarding according
to her needs...the counter-girls hovering nearby, ready
to help with suggestions, eager to push sales of a
particular brand.why Biotique? try this, try that..
she feels embarrassed...these girls, standing for hours
and serving customers..tired lines beneath the eyes..
feels guilty as she goes materialistic headlong.foods, nuts,
cheese, masala tea and face-packs, creams,serums, body oils,
cleansers...all herbal products.and she feels her most polite
smile directed at these girls to be condescending..
have any of them got her very own particular brand of Armaan?
she touches the shelf containing the beauty-brand products
bearing  Armaan's synonym.she doesn't buy them.
                                                                (to be contd.)

                                                    

anuja's: an sms story50

anuja's: an sms story50: " How to send messages-that was the problem.her Airtel connection was blocked off as punishment for not submitting papers of her cit..."

anuja's: an sms story49

anuja's: an sms story49: "as the sun's rays became warmer, darkening the skin of her neck, she remembered how she used to adorn herself for Armaan's eyes only. it ..."

anuja's: an sms story48

anuja's: an sms story48: "3.45a.m.... Armaan:I WANT TO SPEAK A LOT TO U ANN..PLZ GIMME TIME.. WITHOUT HURTING ME ( AN ADOLOSENT KID)... 3.51a.m..... A..."

anuja's: an sms story67

anuja's: an sms story67: "law reminds her of him.she avoids the legal topics...in the newspaper, on television, in films..everywhere..and the topics haunt he..."

an sms story68

law reminds her of him.she avoids the legal topics...in the newspaper,
on television,  in films..everywhere..and the topics haunt her with an obstinacy,
like his name. she is reminded of an Iranian poem which she had read in her
childhood..
far out in the forest of Chinar, the storm rages madly,
the cashew nut-moon shines up in the sky and i am reminded
of you whose very name is forbidden to me...
this river-like youth, this runner-like time never mingles
with each other.Time stares at her youth from across
the waters and sighs.i wanted to be your river, i want
to be your river...for you to glide smooth, glide rough...
                                                              (to be contd.)

anuja's: an sms story67

anuja's: an sms story67: "this winter is seeing rains finally. cold drops...thip, thip thip all night long..the whole courtyard resembling a pool in the shivering m..."

an sms story67

this winter is seeing rains finally. cold drops...thip, thip
thip all night long..the whole courtyard resembling a pool
in the shivering morning. Anna goes to bed and imagines nights..
nights with Armaan. as she has done all these years. as she has
decided to remain his till the end of time..her time.and these rainy-cold
nights fill her with thoughts lovely, of Armaan and his sensual eyes,
the stare..sole key to her solo heart. Anna shivers, enjoys the shivering,
the chattering of teeth as she finishes supper in a perfunctory manner.

in the morning Armaan sends messages.in the afternoon.at night. he chats her

up anytime he pleases as she looks for affection, in vein. she goes through

his messages and her answers.the dilemma, whether she should revert back to 

the mode of self-revelation, albeit in a symbolic way. or to give dry

answers to his friendly-naughty messages. she feels it is not exclusive,
this chat, he probably does it with all of his female acquaintances..its
not 'their' conversation. Anna and Armaan's. it is conversation.just.
commonplace. natural. social communication via technology.
                                                                       (to be contd.)
                                                                      

anuja's: an sms story66sms

anuja's: an sms story66sms: "wonder what she would've done without the rectangular screen, by the side of her bed. the sleepless nights and the repentance that eats..."

an sms story66sms

wonder what she would've done without the rectangular screen,
by the side of her bed. the sleepless nights and the repentance
that eats her...she surfs the net...Central Asia, Kashmir,Urheinmet
....endless downloads.. like an addict. night after night while Armaan sleeps
on his married bed. and when he has the time n mood or feels like it,
sends a message. all the warm camaraderie of those two days gone.
she had expected to hear more...but where were the words?as if you
indulge a mad person because you are afraid of her outbursts. or you take pity
on that person. Anna's  stakes with Armaan  are low now as she pursued
him this time.but she can't imagine a day without his messages.puts up
with his indifference.where are the other options?





Armaan:Which fruits relate 2
me. Orange-
Proudy, Grape-
Naughty, Banana-
Stylish, Mango-
Sweet, Papaya-
Rude, Apple- Gud
Luking, Chiku-
Frank, Strawberry-
Sexy, Pear-
Caring. Reply Truly.
                     (to be contd.)

anuja's: an sms story65

anuja's: an sms story65: "Anna....holds on to Armaan as she listens to Enrique's Latino pathos..you, do you remember me..i walk on the streets alone... as if the s..."

an sms story65

Anna....holds on to Armaan as she listens to Enrique's Latino
pathos..you, do you remember me..i walk on the streets alone...
as if the song was written for her, and her only....and she accepts
the inevitable at last..she will be Armaan's.at any cost.what has she got to
do with society's rules? the society which abuses its children within
the sanctity of marital bond, which conducts witch hunt against
people with 'different' inclinations, where closet homosexuals are
compelled to ruin other lives along with their own...all in the name of
morality and tradition...what evil has ever been successfully encountered
by  this society? its iron-clad rules have given birth to newer evils and
oppressions.people paid only lip-service  to sermons.
this limping morality  is always on its strongest leg only while sacrificing love.
Anna won't.


Armaan:GV me a title:
1)Thief of hearts
2)Source of smyl
3)Fun bomb
4)Sensitive
5)Romantic idiot
6)Beautiful soul
7)Romantic wid a
twist
4ward 2 al U knw
bt rply me 1st
            (to be contd.)

an sms story64

she wakes up before 5a.m. in the morning.the birds twitter in the
soft blue of first light.cuckoo, ....... cuckoos,the spring-birds, nowadays they sing
in all seasons.she is reminded of Holi n the colours.she shuts her mind off from the sound.
goes to the showcase and takes out a book.where are the sparrows gone? they say it is because
of the mobiles.the waves of the towers are bad for the sparrows' heart.the windows remain tight-shut.
Anna takes thyronorm.religiously.everyday.and stands before the mirror.sees the thin outline of
of her figure.takes out the old jeans, feels her waist, runs her hands over the hills n valleys.59k.g.
it will do....
and waits for more messages.somehow a belief runs in her veins that the messages would
lead her someday to Armaan, in flesh n blood.she would see him in person.the face.the thirst....
                                                                                                                        (to be contd.)

anuja's: an sms story63

anuja's: an sms story63: "Anna ran her finger on her friend's number.... he has answered! hey. he has!! great! tell me, what he has typed. how weird it was. nob..."

an sms story63

Anna ran her finger on her friend's number....

he has answered! hey. he has!!

great! tell me, what he has typed.

how weird it was. nobody these days said 'written'
or 'said'. it was always 'typed'...

her girlfriend couldn't understand the meaning
of the message either. but she was happy that  Armaan's solid
silence was broken at last.

what did you say?

nothing. don't know what to write because don't understand
the meaning. depth of whom? mine? or his?
                                              (to be contd.)

anuja's: an sms story62

anuja's: an sms story62: "Anna lay in the honey-coloured light of the smooth sun. two mobiles by her side.the Neem tree above drew patterns in the shadow.she..."

an sms story62

Anna lay in the honey-coloured light of the smooth sun.
two mobiles by her side.the Neem tree above drew
patterns in the shadow.she thought of the money she
got...a meagre amount sans the prestige that comes
from the association with academia.career: Zero;
life: Zero; love: Zero. maimed life, hurt mind. Bonus:
public scrutiny. when it comes to taking stock of the
life, there is nothing in the stock.the monthly cycles gone
to complete waste. from the biological point of view,
a thorough failure...a failed affair with life!

from the side-vision she caught  movement in both of her
mobiles...something is happening within.Anna took the red n black
one out of the black leather cover and...


Armaan:Most of d time v r
so busy in judging
people by 'lengths'
'breadths' n
'heights'
tht v forget, dat
each 1 of us is
gifted wid a heart
where depth too
matters!
        (to be contd.)

anuja's: an sms story61

anuja's: an sms story61: "what to do with this pain? to live away a hollow life? or to opt out? where are the options? is there any option? she was in front of t..."

an sms story61

what to do with this pain? to live away a hollow life? or to opt out?
where are the options? is there any option? she was in front of the
computer, searching for ways out of the....she couldn't have him.ok.
but did he love her the way she did? how could he when he barely
knew her? perhaps he could've loved that female as well? and loved
her. its only that she had somebody and a solid hidden relationship.
so she preferred to spend her time having fun with Armaan.
if she wanted him, she would've got him too? it was her choice
all along. and  its only when she let know of her steady, Armaan
became active in pursuing Anna...more persuasive, more madly in love,..
'cause that female let him free,...instinctively saving the pride of his manhood...
like 'i have a better girl' in the offing? sort of more open....he didn't know
it himself..love has so many hidden by-ways, so many trap-doors
of pain....and Anna couldn't even say these things to him.
to have a good quarrel, thats the antidote, and she can't have that.
as Armaan refused to budge, Anna slipped into the quicksand
and had a terrible death each moment even as she looked wildly
for the easiest way out of her life sentence...poison..cyanide;poison..
snake-bite;poison..dhatura...aag ka dariya hai aur dubke jana hai...
it was not a song of separation..its true meaning revealed itself to Anna...
only too late...
         (to be contd.)

anuja's: an sms story

60anuja's: an sms story: "...the black T-shirt that hugged his body.his firm back n tight butt on the other end of the corridor.most of the times he wore trousers..."

an sms story60

...the black T-shirt that hugged his body.his firm back n tight
butt on the other end of the corridor.most of the times he wore
trousers...seldom jeans.the sun rays giving his dark hair a brownish
hue.the red tie with white shirt-trousers on court-visits. ..he looked
so desirable! she burned all day on holidays.at night, his fingertips played
on Anna n she became a piano, shrieking out melodies.the boy, the boy!
what a boy! she was a musk-deer, maddened by her own scent, asking to
be freed of her scent.

the mere imagination that he may  share another woman's bed some day,
sent a chill along her spine and her heart became cold. no other man would
do for her as she felt her naval, so deep and profound. she became ice-cold with fear...
her glowing youth had a perfect foil in him and his eyes which became
soo affectionate at times.....dream, dream...two dreams..the fertile
land green and red and pink and golden-yellow...

yellow...in the fading lights of day, Anna finds the pair of nimble feet
disappearing, fast and as irrevocably.the flowers by the stream..flowers..
there are gardens in this world where nobody entered because there are few
connoisseurs who can, led by the aroma, discover where the rose is.
                                                                                (to be contd.)

anuja's: an sms story59

anuja's: an sms story59: "Armaan:NO MESSAGE Anna was reading DO AND DIE on the Chittagong uprising these days. there was a movie coming up on that important mi..."

anuja's: an sms story59

anuja's: an sms story59: "Armaan:NO MESSAGE Anna was reading DO AND DIE on the Chittagong uprising these days. there was a movie coming up on that important mi..."

anuja's: an sms story59

anuja's: an sms story59: "Armaan:NO MESSAGE Anna was reading DO AND DIE on the Chittagong uprising these days. there was a movie coming up on that important mi..."

anuja's: an sms story59

anuja's: an sms story59: "Armaan:NO MESSAGE Anna was reading DO AND DIE on the Chittagong uprising these days. there was a movie coming up on that important mi..."

anuja's: an sms story59

anuja's: an sms story59: "Armaan:NO MESSAGE Anna was reading DO AND DIE on the Chittagong uprising these days. there was a movie coming up on that important mi..."

anuja's: an sms story59

anuja's: an sms story59: "Armaan:NO MESSAGE Anna was reading DO AND DIE on the Chittagong uprising these days. there was a movie coming up on that important mi..."

anuja's: an sms story59

anuja's: an sms story59: "Armaan:NO MESSAGE Anna was reading DO AND DIE on the Chittagong uprising these days. there was a movie coming up on that important mi..."

anuja's: an sms story59

anuja's: an sms story59: "Armaan:NO MESSAGE Anna was reading DO AND DIE on the Chittagong uprising these days. there was a movie coming up on that important mi..."

anuja's: an sms story59

anuja's: an sms story59: "Armaan:NO MESSAGE Anna was reading DO AND DIE on the Chittagong uprising these days. there was a movie coming up on that important mi..."

anuja's: an sms story59

anuja's: an sms story59: "Armaan:NO MESSAGE Anna was reading DO AND DIE on the Chittagong uprising these days. there was a movie coming up on that important mi..."

anuja's: an sms story59

anuja's: an sms story59: "Armaan:NO MESSAGE Anna was reading DO AND DIE on the Chittagong uprising these days. there was a movie coming up on that important mi..."

anuja's: an sms story59

anuja's: an sms story59: "Armaan:NO MESSAGE Anna was reading DO AND DIE on the Chittagong uprising these days. there was a movie coming up on that important mi..."

anuja's: an sms story59

anuja's: an sms story59: "Armaan:NO MESSAGE Anna was reading DO AND DIE on the Chittagong uprising these days. there was a movie coming up on that important mi..."

an sms story59

Armaan:NO MESSAGE




Anna was reading DO AND DIE on the Chittagong uprising these days.
there was a movie coming up on that important milestone in India's freedom
struggle.she was totally immersed in that. she read about Kalpana Joshi's
failed love.failed? the revolutionary who loved her.and loved mother India with
the same passion...died for her.


Anna:This is the time for
preparation to
embrace death as a
friend...at such a
solemn moment,
what shall i leave
behind for  you?
Only one thing, that
is my dream,a
golden dream- the
dream of free
india...onward my
comrades,
onward...surya
sen's last message.
Send it to everyone.



Armaan:NO MESSAGE




Anna:The earth is our
only home-al gore(
'an inconvenient
truth'). Say yes to
green. Send it to
everyone.



Armaan:NO MESSAGE




Anna:When nobody
listens, there comes
a song/ when
somebody listens, a
beloved is born/ in
a hundred ways a
song is born/ in
only one way a
beloved is born/
when it is difficult
to reach the other
side, a song is born/
when somebody
comes from the
other side, a
beloved is born/
when somebody
does not see
through my eyes, a
song is born/when
somebody sees
through my eyes, a
beloved is born.



Armaan;NO MESSAGE



Anna:My place is the
placeless, my trace
is the traceless, it is
neither body nor
soul, for i belong to
the soul of the
beloved. I have put
duality away, i have
seen that the two
worlds are one, one
i seek, one i know,
one i see, one i call:
jalauddin rumi



Armaan:NO MESSAGE
                          (to be contd.)

anuja's: an sms story58

anuja's: an sms story58: "Anna struggled with her old insecurities and the new addiction. she dreamed of snakes...black, smooth, gleaming ones,cordoning her of..."

an sms story58

Anna struggled with her old insecurities and the new addiction.
she dreamed of snakes...black, smooth, gleaming ones,cordoning
her off from her secure world.and she lay awake in the night, speechless
with fright. she fought off her wish to seek safety in the warmth of
her mother's blanket.




the next day:



Anna was going through the Times of India. the Sacred Space.
nowadays she regularly does so in the hope that she might be
able to send some beautiful quotes to Armaan someday and
outdo him.



Anna:When u have only
two pennies left in
the world, buy a
loaf of bread with
one, and a lily with
the other-chinese
proverb
      ( to be contd.)

anuja's: an sms story57

anuja's: an sms story57: "the next day: Anna:The waves of pain...reared high up and washed over my head, pulling me under. I did not resurface- new moon she ..."

an sms story57

the next day:



Anna:The waves of
pain...reared high
up and washed
over my head,
pulling me under. I
did not resurface-
new moon



she waited by her rose garden. silent. the autumn sun kissed her hands
as she tried to shade her eyes and see if any message had come.
Anna sat on the hand-woven mat and watched the red new leaves of her
spice-trees.the bay leaves.she had never been able to use the leaves of her
garden in cooking. for that, the market ones...she remembered how, once,
she had  rolled the dry bay leaves, lit them and smoked.so soothing. she
had always itched to smoke. the smoke.in one corner of the courtyard,
a mound of dry leaves were burning.the smoke,coiling towards the clear sky
....in childhood, she used to stand in the smoke and imagine that she was
floating through the white clouds.there was no cloud these days, the light,
fluffy white ones.Anna's inner sky had a riot of dark-blue, heavy clouds
though.dark-blue.the colour in which she used to draw lord Krishna and
Radha .the colour of sorrow was blue as she got to know when she first
listened to Cliff Richards' songs.she had often drawn Armaan in the paint
window of her computer, in front of a clear blue background,  the colour
of a mountain brook. and her eyes somewhere...happy with a light-blue tinge.
she lost all those paintings, the only representations of Armaan she had with
her, to formatting.she never got over it.those pictures, so clearly defining
the world she built with Armaan...the moments..not of everyday life...in sylvan
mountains, middle of sandy deserts n camels, on the terrace of a fortress....
all gone and she could not paint him again. and there was always that unfathomable
distance between the picture-Armaan n picture-Anna.sometimes she in the
background, sometimes he...never converging, never meeting...Armaan hung on
the wall of a Yves Saint Laurent Anna..Anna stared at an Armaan sitting idly
by a tree....

Armaan:NO MESSAGE.
             (to be contd.)

anuja's: an sms story56

anuja's: an sms story56: " Anna took in the shape of perfectly round 'indian' pizza. cheese, sauce and lots of paneer cubes thrown in.the knife &n..."

an sms story56

 Anna took in the shape of  perfectly round 'indian' pizza.
 cheese, sauce and lots of paneer cubes thrown in.the knife
 and the fork. pick out the paneers, they mar the taste.
 cut the slices in smaller triangles and chew.she has never been
 able to finish off more than a half of the pizza, though she always
 opted for the smaller version.indian pizza.because of the
 paneers? or the sauce, not adhering to italian or mexican
 standard? a wholly indian amalgamation? why 'indian'?
..."on that road between China and India, perhaps I could
 find a history that belonged to me, a past and a present.
 What was true? What was false? And what did it have to
 do with me? Is not history one woman's truth-as she
 chooses to tell it?" o darling Mishi, did the same demons
 chase you as you hitchhiked across the silk road?

 PAGE 69: "why was the past bubbling up now of all times?
 I felt tears gather as I looked out of the window, tears for M.,
 a man I knew a decade ago. It had been intense and wholehearted
 between us...I never forgot that... I still  mourned the death of this youthful love.
 Or perhaps this is what the desert did, uncovered things I had thought long-vanished."
 no desert had to uncover it for Anna.she was a desert.
 "Can one mourn for a decade without not knowing? All those years
 ago, I didn't think M. had loved me at all. But now I saw that he had.
 It was I who couldn't believe it at the time. I needed so many tokens.
 It was a failure of imagination. And  of  faith."...Anna has drafted Mishi's words
 in her mobile...when she took up the copy of 'Chasing the Monk's Shadow'
 she had hoped for oblivion. to find shelter in the smoky opiate that history
 was to her.Mishi had it all...Stein, Ulighur, the Monk, Kumarajeeva, Kucha
.....came the desert and Mishi's pain reverberated within the empty walls
 of Anna's mind. TEN years! what pervert joke was this? of providence?

Anna remembered the hollywood-movie she was watching
the evening before. Enemy of the State. the woman answers
to the hero that she had no life because she was in love with a
married man...and there was law department. anguish! Anna
could have been a queen. she was begging for Love from life now.
no trembling fingers, no beating heart as she pressed the 'send'
button...


Anna:Time passes...even
         when each tick of
         the second hand
         aches like the pulse
         of blood behind a
         bruise...but pass it does-new moon
she has decided to send one message a day till he answers. would Armaan
ever know that each morning she wakes up, takes a look at the mobile and
says to herself, in muted, hushed tone...rose pink, pink rose, bring me a happy
day.
      (to be contd.)

anuja's: an sms story55

anuja's: an sms story55: "Anna was sitting in vatika.the bright lights.seemed there were no ugly-looking and badly-dressed people in the world.the gleaming counter..."

an sms story55

Anna was sitting in vatika.the bright lights.seemed there were no
ugly-looking and badly-dressed people in the world.the gleaming counter
with a computer. you pay and collect the slip. give it to the food counter.
you wait. patiently as your number comes up on a screen on the wall
of the counter.the escalator just in front of the railings where  Anna sat.
her favourite spot. a spot of green in the form of  an ornamental plant.
there was a staircase also, winding upwards to the movie-theater above.
the shops around the space by the restaurant..clothes, ice cream-parlor,
computers,photo-binding services, gift shops...she has inserted the VSNL SIM into
her red n black mobile as its screen was better for messaging and message-reading.
and she carried it always with her nowadays and kept the other one at home.

she has not grown up seeing these things.like the pony-tailed little girls here in
three-quarter jeans, holding their jeans-wearing moms' hands.she felt
like an immigrant,often, in this world. this well-fed, well-moneyed
ambience that advertised itself all the time...Anna felt lost. paradoxically this losing
 herself gave her a sense of security. amidst the crowd of anonymous faces, she was
one anonymous face..society couldn't challenge her here as the people knew no
antecedents and had no right to interact with her..no claim over her privacy. and
she was one of the conspicuously best-dressed ladies.all the more right to be sitting
there and having fun all by herself.

Anna experienced a sort of unreality in this place always, isolated from the outside
world of suffering and greed, poverty and diseases. the MATRIX. and she needed
Armaan more than ever with her, as she sat, watched people, listened to songs,
brought tea or foaming coffee to her table. to lend to her affluent life some kind of reality.
to enjoy these new things..this world of mobiles, net, posh people hanging around,
this first-world illusion....everything. how she wished to send Armaan a message,'i
am sitting at Vatika!'..'i am eating pizza!'


she would share it all with Armaan...Armaan in his black T-shirt, the white inner
peeping from under, on his shoulder. Armaan...in his shirt, with some buttons open
in the front  and the hair on his chest, not like a teenager at all, of a fully-grown man...
how it attracted her! and she blushed when he felt her eyes on his chest...the writing
in the Draft contained Jalauddin Rumi's words..

'Ur task is not to
seek love, but
merely to seek
and find all the
barriers that u
have built
against it.'

and sitting there,Anna drafted the message she meant to send to Armaan.
A quote.
       (to be contd.)

anuja's: an sms story54

anuja's: an sms story54: "all the time her sub-conscious put up a block.don't enjoy this...this is forbidden fruit. you can't relish, it is transient...and ...day..."

anuja's: an sms story54

anuja's: an sms story54: "all the time her sub-conscious put up a block.don't enjoy this...this is forbidden fruit. you can't relish, it is transient...and ...day..."

an sms story54

all the time her sub-conscious put up a block.don't enjoy this...this is
forbidden fruit. you can't relish, it is transient...and ...days went by. she
read Mishi. slept with 'twilight' by her side. and he didn't call again.one
week, two week. her fingers, deprived of  its action, her eyes, without
the favourite task of going up n down each message...

she boards the train, works like a robot under her boss, answers queries even from
casual acquaintances,'won't you marry?, 'don't you have a boyfriend?','WHY?' the
more sophisticated ones guessing about her salacious private life, free n interesting -
getting jealous. staring at her n thinking, 'frigid?' 'lesbian?' she was an enigma to others.
to herself, a knot hanging on a simple turn of thread, you pull, and it comes unbound.
and the pull never came.

NO MESSAGE. she was becoming a classical case of withdrawal symptom.
the idea forming  in her mind... to join Orkut. to have some link
somehow. to let him see her profile.but Anna's computer was having problems,
hardware as well as the net connection.VSNL can go more slow-paced
than a snail when it chose in matter of pending complaints and it chose often.
her net came via land-telephone.and Anna never felt comfortable in the dark
cubicles of cyber-cafe where you can breathe down another's neck and vice-versa.

her days were now spent in a new sort of repentance, 'why didn't i tell
(read couldn't) him of the Airtel fiasco?' 'why that stupid virus thing that
came first into my mind?' all said and done, why didn't she remember of
telling him that the VSNL problem (if there was any-sticking to the story still)
was already sorted out, before he called? after one week...'why didn't i message
afterwards that there were no more problems with message-sending?'

he must have felt insulted. was hurt. thought Anna was deliberately avoiding
him. it was her smooth way of telling him off for calling. he stopped Anna
mid-sentence as she chattered away nonsensically and said 'bye, rakhchhi!'
as she pondered over his messages n 'her' Armaan,  life finally taught Anna
the courage to be vulnerable. in love....
                                                   (to be contd.)

anuja's: an sms story53

anuja's: an sms story53: "Armaan.she answered at the second ring.right after the fact had registered..his number! the voice! tobacco-smelling voice, the fragrance..."

an sms story53

Armaan.she answered at the second ring.right after the fact had registered..his number!
the voice! tobacco-smelling voice, the fragrance trailing around her consciousness.ever.
in the station, on the train, in a shopping mall or multiplex movie theatre, whenever tobacco-
chewing guys jostled by or walked past, Anna was reminded of his Adam's apple, his
small coughs n her fear that he might develop throat-cancer someday.as a result of his
 constant tobacco-chewing. yet when she smelled tobacco from other men, she felt
strangely reassured which softened down her days....she has always defined his voice
as sexy in her mind, and his wide palms. how many times she had looked at them
stealthily..the red band of thread on his strong wrist and the red tikka on auspicious days
or days of exams...and his fair skin which brought to her mind the sands of desert...
to her, Armaan's voice defined sensuality, nestling itself into the soundbox of her brain...
the most recognizable one.

Armaan-'Anna! Armaan bolchhi.'

Anna-'bol. bujhte perechhi'...and her hands shook.she got nervous.like
old days.that blushing silly girl was there with her still.the throat was dry.
and she talked like the mad woman she was.without thinking, just repeating
to herself, 'hide your emotions from him! wipe away all traces of weakness
from your voice...no inkling gets out that he is your ultimate desire.'

Armaan-'can't message you. what's happened to your mobile?'..then, a little
bit apologetically,' i wrote about how you looked..', a mild laugh..the voice
which always broke in small portions, like rhythms in Indian classical music.
she was reminded of the bus-rides home, those rare moments when both of
them sat in silence, savoring each others presence, confident of each others
heart....this person is mine n  i am....energy flowing towards each other's
mind............

Anna-(with a soft laugh)'yes, i read that.'

Armaan-laughed softly and she sensed a bit of embarrassment there.

Armaan-'why can't i get the message through, Anna?'

Anna-(as if in a trance)-virus infection. i got net connection in my mobile.
and it got infected..and how did i surprise you with this number of mine?
like you did?

Armaan-'but what about this one? the messages can't be sent to this one
either. i've been trying...'

he must not know that i've got this VSNL connection for him only....that
messages couldn't be sent then because it was a new connection.though she knew
the incoming messages service was connected just a few minutes back.
she had contacted a friend and told her to try sending messages and it worked.

Anna-'this one also got infected. i used to do so much net from this.
the software got infected and i have to go all the way to Benachity
to get it done.'
         (to be contd.)

anuja's: an sms story52

anuja's: an sms story52: "Anna felt free. she felt she could now move on. as if a burden had lifted. she was f-r-e-e of the words. her own words. happy and content..."

an sms story52

Anna felt free. she felt she could now move on. as if a burden had lifted.
she was f-r-e-e of the words. her own words. happy and contented.
as she used to become after watching each episode of the serial Mahabharata
on TV, lord Krishna was her favourite. that fourteen years old girl, starry-eyed,
thought it was love she felt as she watched the chocolate-ly handsome
actor who enacted the role of lord Krishna so successfully.

she used to argue to herself, 'isn't it LOVE? then what is?' like shit it was! all those pages
of her diaries..swooning over a TV star...those were her only happy days in life because
Anna did not know Armaan back then. did not know how the entry of a man in one's
mind n life hurts...after ages she felt like she was that teenager again, eager to love,
to explore, to dream of handsome hunks ...like she would stand in front of the mirror
again and exclaim with frustration,'when would i grow up?'

after a long time she opened her spice-box on the wall and decided to cook.
the choicest and expensive spices she kept there. her tiny n intense world of spices.
she was going through the list in mind...white pepper, kebabchini, charmagaz, star-anise,
mace, cardamom, kashmirimirch..mm..a whiff of kasuri methi perhaps? how about
replacing common salt with rock salt? too much of an experiment? lets add a bit of
sour into it-aamchur powder would do. she could use tamarind though.

the morning was lovely. warm yet it was cool inside the kitchen.just the perfect
weather for a chef like her to sing and cook, cook n sing...12.39 a.m...just as she
entered the kitchen the call came...........
                        (to be contd.)

anuja's: an sms story51

anuja's: an sms story51: "she thought whether to tell Armaan that there was no need to help her dad through his party contacts as her dad was long dead.it was almo..."

an sms story51

she thought whether to tell Armaan that there was no need to help her dad
through his party contacts as her dad was long dead.it was almost eight years now.
those days.... Anna waiting for a phone call from him as she reached the nadir
of her emotional tenacity, developed hypertension syndrome.days went by, no
call came,her realizing that Armaan had left her for good. perhaps courting some
 girl whose father would fill up his chamber with leather-bound law-books.....
 that they had shifted to another section of the city six years ago. she decided
against it. keep the focus.just tell about your feelings.don't angle for your reality.
what is the use?Anna dealt with them on her own. what had Armaan to do with it?



Anna:She used to cover
up all her
confusions with
outward
indifference. Yet
'silence' has a
thousand tongues if
only somebody can
hear it'. Phew...!
Can't believe i
invented this
phrase! No
plagiarism, okay?




Anna:One day she
gathered up all her
courage and asked
'the' boy to stay.
She had decided to
bare her soul to
him that day. He
left, quite rudely.
She decided never
to disturb him
again. And she
waited for him to
come to her,
someday...-howz
that for the
backdrop of a book,
yaar! Ain't it funny!
          (to be contd.)

anuja's: an sms story50

anuja's: an sms story50: " How to send messages-that was the problem.her Airtel connection was blocked off as punishment for not submitting papers of her cit..."

an sms story50

 How to send messages-that was the problem.her Airtel connection was blocked
off as punishment for not submitting papers of her citizenry proofs.she had been getting
 these warnings for over a month now.visited their local office after getting a message-warning
 a week ago and they told her that everything was o.k. she won't get any more warnings  and no
 action would be taken.but here it was.so very much like her fate.consistent! all the
 happy coincidences!


11.02a.m.......

she took a rickshaw from the bus-stand and went to the open-market.she loves
cycle-rickshaws..nothing like it  to beat the blues as cool air passed speedily by the ears
..shooo...whoosh...and the childhood memory of listening to conch-shell comes back.
elders said you hear the sea calling you..it was the sound of sea-waves playing on the beach.
and she believed that.it gave her an weird feeling.after growing up, when she visited the sea-shore
 at Digha, Anna had thought of the conch-shell at  the altar..that evening as she saw the calm dark-blue
sea whispering to the air...a vast wide, contained in itself...

a SIM-card shop.she went in.asked for a VSNL SIM.she had a spare mobile set.
the shop-owner said she would get the connection within one hour...fruit-stalls..red
apples, green -yellow bananas...she survived on bananas in the university-days, four
 to five a day. she used to rip the skins off and gobble them up as she loitered up and down
the classroom.class mates laughed and joked about it.once a female senior asked her,
'aren't you ashamed to eat it in front of everyone?' she couldn't understand where was the
shame in eating a fruit which was considered a complete food in itself.Anna used the fully-ripened
ones to have fruit-facials at home...light-green pears, dates, coconuts, both the green and
the brown ones,her favourite dry coconuts..Anna returned to the shop.'just wait some more
minutes,please!' 'and when can messages start coming in? 'well it may take hours..'

she was returning.the rickshaw-puller was an old acquaintance.she went to the 'create message'
option and tried..



Anna:Abe buddhe, tor
theke far-better
looking aachhi
ekhono, this much i
can assure!....the message was sent successfully.she sighed with relief.
now she can tell! and listen..


at home..first Anna wrote in a notebook, weaving words, stitching a picture
of her days when she was beginning to know the painful world of love.
the unfinished letters of the day before, making them more coherent.
typed them as tears rolled down, making the screen hazy..she could hardly
see as she wiped her glasses time n again,pulling them off her eyes..
dabbing at them with a scarf , blowing her nose and again at her job...


Anna:Once there was a
foolish girl who
loved so much that
it hurt. And she was
shy, introvert,
insecure, unsure,
easily hurt, weak,
angry, confused,
sentimental,
passively jealous,
inwardly
possessive, silently
sincere and afraid
of rejection and
ridicule.
      (to be contd.)

anuja's: an sms story49

anuja's: an sms story49: "as the sun's rays became warmer, darkening the skin of her neck, she remembered how she used to adorn herself for Armaan's eyes only. it ..."

an sms story49

as the sun's rays became warmer, darkening the skin of her neck,
she remembered how she used to adorn herself for Armaan's eyes only.
it was her silent gift to him...the sarees that meandered over the curves
of her supply slim body like transparent rivers.she usually wore chiffon ones.
yellow rivers, green rivers...n those long, bizzare earrings n loud lipsticks...
her body.she came to know the value of that only when she began  losing
the battle with fat.the love-handles on her once lovable, smooth, firm thighs.
the flat abdomen bulging with excess deposits, losing elasticity. and the toned
upper portion of her hands, soo sensual in sleeveless nighties...she had often tried
 to imagine how Armaan would react when he saw her in one, hanging ugly.

there was something very wrong with her fat n happy looks.her energy level was at its
 lowest. she has always been a modest eater.just a few mouthful of boiled potatoe in rice was
her favourite staple diet.she wasn't much fond of vegetables.she didn't take non-vegetarian
dishes either because....and in a Bengali society it was a fact hard to explain away.the 'i don't like it'
statement was a blasphemy for the Bengalis who swore by fish and was as fond of mutton curries on
Sundays. though mutton was losing its place fast to chicken-mania among the middle-class.

facial fat rendering her chiseled round face a blunt, vacant look, taking the
sheen of intellect away. and the pouch under her bright, almond eyes...
and she prayed that she never came face to face with Armaan in her 'bad hair' days.she
had never been vein about her looks much. but don't you feel sorry when you lose something
precious which you had reserved for someone special?...she pondered over
the word 'moti'.. fat, or pearl? where did he see her? when? why didn't he call out to her?
Couldn't?

Anna had tried upmarket gyms, tried Suryanamaskar at home..in her haphazard way.
 she was happy initially  that she was gaining weight..kind of feeling happy n confident.
a bit of fat fills one with a 'feeling good' mood, particularly when one is in a state of perpetual
depression and neck-deep in worries.the more fat she accumulated, the more she gorged on
dark chocolate, the newly launched Cadbury ones..affordable, within a hundred rupees.Anna took to
dry fruits like duck to water..almonds, pista, akhrot, sometimes finished a packet a day. appreciated
when she rubbed her nose-tip and saw oil coming out of the pores.her face didn't need
any moisturiser then and she became fairer than ever. people noticed.they commented
on her 'fair'ly beauty. she applied pink lipstick with a stark red Patiala salwar,
and she prayed that she came face to face with Armaan.

but under the shower, as the water ran like mild rain over the fat body, she choked.
couldn't recognize herself. the person she had identified herself with since her early
teenage days..slimness bordering on thinness, yet well filled up...strong shoulder-blades,
 two proud collar-bones, generous breasts, wide hips..were perfectly suited for
all kinds of dresses: saree, fitting salwar, jeans n figure-hugging tops.and her shoulder- length
straight, thin, silky hair.......

the Armaan of messages, when he bids her goodnight, imagines 'that' Anna, when
he calls her 'cute', he harks back olden days...but reality reigns in and he mocks
 'U R Old now'!.... she is not fat anymore..while she writes back to Armaan,
she runs her eyes over her figure,regaining the old thinness...and 'being old'?
she is not even close to that phase as far as outward looks are concerned...but how to
make him see?
              (to be contd.)

anuja's: an sms story48

anuja's: an sms story48: "Armaan:I WANT TO SPEAK A LOT TO U ANN..PLZ GIMME TIME.. WITHOUT HURTING ME ( AN ADOLOSENT KID)... Armaan:I HAVE A FEW CONTACTS IN T..."

an sms story48

3.45a.m....




Armaan:I WANT TO SPEAK A
LOT TO U ANN..PLZ
GIMME TIME..
WITHOUT HURTING
ME ( AN ADOLOSENT
KID)...




3.51a.m.....




Armaan:I HAVE A FEW
CONTACTS IN THE
PARTY..CAN I HELP U
AND UNCLE IN ANY
MANNER EVER
ANNA? PLZ YAAR
EMOTIONAL MATT
HONA..U R VERY..
UFF..REALLY TOUGH
TO HANDLE..




4.02.a.m......




Armaan:CAN U WRITE A
BOOK 4 ME AND U
ANN? TITLED
'EMOTIONAL
ATYACHAAR' HAHA..
CHAL FINALY GD NT.
KAPDE SUKHA DIYE..



finally he said it..the TV programme that aired the infidelities,
 the insecurities, the quarrels, the heartbreaks...a refrain
of a song trailed..chhodo na mujhe yun bekarar sa /
kuch to sila do tum apne pyar ka / tumhari dil ki hai manjil /
mera deewana dil..mmmm....from a movie, the shots, powerful n
honest, drove right through the heart, everybody just as much helpless
in his or her own place.. whenever Anna  watched the tears,
the stained faces..the prostitute shutting her lover out after she
comes to know that he could never make good his promises
of giving her a home..the gay guy breaking down as his boyfriend
gives in to his family's pressure n decides to marry...the wife
losing all her faith in her pros-lover husband..she touched her
cheeks n found salt sticking there everytime. tumhari dil ki hai manjil,
mera deewana dil....what is this society that does not take into account
heart n its hurts...so many lives destroyed,bound to live the life of an ant,
laboring away? ...And finally she came to understand what Dr. Harivansh Rai
Bachchan wrote in  'Madhubala': that Truth and Beauty are further from each
other than we have ever guessed. that in this world the fight is not only between
 Good n Evil. that here Good makes war on Good. that Justice fights Justice,
Truth fights Truth. and Anna knew that the Heart had truths which transgressed
Morality.
          (to be contd.)

anuja's: an sms story47

anuja's: an sms story47: "....and she had noticed the way Armaan had already disentangled himself from any possible complications by stressing on a transient relat..."

an sms story47

....and she had noticed the way Armaan had already disentangled himself
from any possible complications by stressing on a transient relationship...and
the other messages, full of probe...to know Anna's mind...flirtatious yet strangely
 remote, noncommittal..a piece of art in themselves if one cared to make a collage.
saying everything...culminating into nothing. some people had this knack of remaining
free, whatever they did. they do not let others take themselves for granted, all the time
showing them their real place. her decision was made though as she went over Armaan'a
messages in her mind.and she could tell that they were written in a drunken merry-making mood..
the tone of  the messages strongly indicated that he sat, drank n typed whole night...



2.15a.m...



Armaan:Hey U, yes U, the
Cutest one, Holding
this phone, R U
sleeping???
No??
OK,
fine, bcoz I
Want 2 say
"GOOD NIGHT" be4U
close your eyes...GN
Sweetdrms..




2.21a.m....




Armaan:ANN..DO U HAVE
PROFILE ON ORKUT?
I WANT TO SEE HOW
U LOOK AFTER 10
YEARS YAAR?
BUDDHI HO GAI HOGI
AB TAK TO..
HA HA HA HA HA



2.45a.m....



Armaan:U KNOW SOMETHING
ANNA? WHEN WE
WERE 2GETHER IN
UNIVERSITY WE
HADNT SPOKE TO
EACH OTHER THE NUMBER OF LETTERS
EQUAL TO THE NUM
OF SENTENCES THAT
WE HAD CHAT
RECENTLY. U KNOW Y
I M SAYING THIS?
BECOZ U..MS. ANNA
SHARMA HAS STARTED
LOVING LIGHT
HEARTED
NAUGHTINESS..WHICH
AS PER MY
REMEMBRANCES U
NEVER DID



2.50a.m.....




Armaan:I DONT KNOW WHY,
BUT UR THAT
LOOKING OUT OF
THOSE BUS
WINDOWS..AT A
STREATCH WID DEEP
THOUGHTS ALWAYS
DISTURBED, AND
STILL DISTURBS ME..




3.00a.m....




Armaan:U NEVER TALKED TO
ANYBODY..WHY?
WHY ANN WHY?
WATS DA PROBLEM?
WAS IT ONLY UR DAD
BEING INVOLVED IN
 POLITICS? I CANT
BELIEVE IT YAAR.
THERES MUCH MORE
AND DEEP TO IT. UR
EYES USED TO SAY
SO..CAN WE SHARE?
DONT THINK
OTHERWISE. PLZ. MY
REQUEST.



3.06a.m.....




Armaan:Kuchal hasrate....
.............................
.........................
........................
..........................
.....................
...........................
.......................
..........................HA HA
HA HA HA SAALA
HINDI KI TO TOONE
MAA BEHEN KAR DI.
BHAGWAAN JANE
ISKA ASLI MEANING.
UR ANGREJI MSGS R
BETTER. PLZ DONT
TRY TO TYPE
ANYTHING IN HINDI
YAAR. BANGLA
CHOLBE..HAHA.



3.10a.m.....



Armaan:Once upon a time: i
.......................................
..................................
............................
....................................
..............................
.............................
...............................
..............HMM..
NICE..



3.15a.m....



Armaan:UR DEEP SILENCE...
WHY? STILL
DISTURBS ME...
BOLBI NA? HMM
KENO BOLBI TO AN
ADOLOSENT
STRANGER..CHAL
GUD NITE.



3.25a.m....



Armaan:A boy was walking
on d road in fully
rainy nite.
A grl came wth
umrella n said to
him
"Hello cutie u cn
share my umbrella"
Boy replied" it's ok
sis,m alright". N
went away..
Moral:moral voral
kuch nhi
EMOTIONAL
ATYACHAR
program ka darr hai



3.30a.m.....




Armaan:CAN U TELL ME WHO
WAS THE BEST
FIGURED  GAL IN OUR
DEPTT.(WHEN WE
WERE 2GETHER..)?
THINK..AND ANS
2MORO..
        (to be contd.)

anuja's: an sms story46

anuja's: an sms story46: "....she bought Chasing the Monk's Shadow some days back. Anna has always been enamoured by ancient history n the Chinese conn..."

an sms story46

....she  bought Chasing the Monk's Shadow some days back.
Anna has always  been enamoured by ancient history n the Chinese
connection was her favourite. going through the first few pages...
Mishi was fast establishing herself as a woman after her own heart.
Anna was sitting outside, by her grape'vine' which consisted of
a single grape tree. tree? or vine? forget it! the poor grape tree
twined on a trellis made from bamboo. musings.. on Central Asia..
Armaan...the monk.... Armaan...the manuscripts...The messages...
                 their former classmates did not know what was happening..
the Tamil friend, what would he think of  married Armaan's
message escapades? these confessions...outside world must not
know..what was the possibility of a sweet romance once, now had
a seed of rude, ugly connotation...adultery.even these one-to-one
communications must be veiled in borrowed words. so that nobody
 can accuse... allege...Anna would never know the joy at hearing the
words 'i love you! He won't say it, can't say it...and she waited then,
she waits now..from the  lips, the lower portion thick..a teeth in the
upper mouth a bit broken..she won't ever know how he smiles when he
says those words..looks mischievous or serious? there was a deep cut
by the eyebrow, most probably on the left side.
and she remembered the promise she made to him yesterday, in veiled
 words of course,..

Anna:A friend said to
another: I know, i
know u must follow
d sun/ wherever it
leads/ but
remember/ if u fall
short of ur desires/
remember life holds
 for u one
guarantee/ u'll
always have me...did it sound too mushy,
too cheaply sentimental? going by Armaan's
later messages of the night, it was.she was
feeling ashamed again for having revealed
herself too much.yet, Anna didn't want to
take leave of the world without  ever
saying the things to him...so she would Say n
rip the coarse cover off  her self...naked words......
this morning, glowing morning...morning of light.
                                          (to be contd.)    .

anuja's: an sms story45

anuja's: an sms story45: "morning.... inbox.... two eyes... and, the messages of the night.... 1.30a.m.... Armaan;HEY CUTIE SMARTY ANGREJAN ANN..I WAS..."

an sms story45

morning....


inbox....


two eyes...


and,


the messages of the night....



1.30a.m....


Armaan;HEY CUTIE SMARTY
ANGREJAN ANN..I
WAS ONLY PULLING
UR LEG YAAR!
CUMMON WAKE UP
NOW! 2MOROS
SUNDAY, LETS
PARTY! HAHA..ARMAA
BABA NEVER
CHANGES, NEVER
BECUMS EMOTIONAL..
BECAUSE HE HAS
ALREADY KILLED HIS
EMOTIONS LONG
LONG AGO................




Anna felt pain..like sharp arrow, deeply embedding itself
in her consciousness...



1.32a.m...



Armaan:TADA TADI UTH NA
HOLE NAKE PAPER
ROLL KORE POKE
KORBO..


1.45a.m....



Armaan:UFF ARRE UTHHO..
KEMON GHUMOS RE?
SOTTI..TOR HUBBY
BECHARA
FRUSTRATED HOYE
JABE..HAHA TEACHER
JI, EARLY 2 BED AND
..HAHA HOHO "AJI
MAI LECTURE
MAARKE THAK CHUKI
HUN, AB SONE DIJIYE
NA" HE HE HE



Anna felt pain again...like poisonous arrow, bloodying her
 consciousness..how could he joke about her 'hubby'
yet grab the right to message her at night n not so
'friendly' messages at that?



2.00a.m....



Armaan:UTHBI KI NA MOTI...?
KATA KUTU SHURU
KORBO? NO...I M
SORRY. THINGS MAY
GO OTHERWISE...GUDNITE
ANNA. SWEET
DREAMS DEAR.
          (to be contd.)

anuja's: an sms story43

anuja's: an sms story43: "sleep..sleep..sleep not the sleep that she had sought for years..to forget her loss at least for the night, to get rid of the blinding m..."

an sms story44

sleep..sleep..sleep
not the sleep that she had sought
for years..to forget her loss at least for the night,
to get rid of the blinding migraine building inside the
brain...popping some painkillers n sleeping pills...
sleep came like sleep should.smoothing the lines of her
 forehead..putting a light smile at the corners of her lips..
sleep hugged her like an old friend..after many years...
and Anna dreamt of Armaan...
her heart slept like a patch of golden rice field that lay
beneath the sun....gleaming...waiting to be reaped as the speeding trains
ran by along the tracks.. n it flirted with the soft winds..shew...shh..shew..shew
shhh...umm..Armaan came and held her hand in a tight grip, like that day on the platform
..he was on the train, she was on the platform,the train began to move slowly,Anna gave him her right
hand to hold and got afraid as the train took speed and shouted,'let go, please!'..Armaan was caressing her shoulders, saying sweet nothings and hot tears welled in Anna's eyes..she woke up n found herself crying.
the mobile...


1.30a.m.....


Armaan:HEY CUTIE SMARTY
ANGREJAN ANN..I
WAS ONLY PULLING
UR LEG YAAR!
CUMMON WAKE UP
NOW! 2MOROS
SUNDAY, LETS
PARTY! HAHA...ARMAA
BABA NEVER
CHANGES. NEVER BE*
some text missing*



Anna closed the inbox n started typing a message...
when she hit the 'send' button she found that the network
connection was not working. she tried n tried. failed.
and she was not sure whether she would retain the guts
of typing the messages in the morning or not...words that she
had wanted to say for a long time and  to Armaan only..now was
the moment n how it betrays!
                              (to be contd.)

anuja's: an sms story43

anuja's: an sms story43: "as she lay on the hard bed and sleep played 'hide n seek' with her she remembered the night aboard the train to Allahabad.she has always ..."

an sms story43

as she lay on the hard bed and sleep played 'hide n seek' with her
she remembered the night aboard the train to Allahabad.she has
always been nervous of heights and she gets serious nerve attacks
 in the moving confinement of trains when she has to sleep high up
in the bunker.and it has been her lot, with surprising constancy, to get
 the highest bunker while travelling by train.wherever she went.the train took
speed, began to shake terribly..she watched people, sleeping below, with
 ease and comfort in the narrow space.she shivered as the AC worked best
 in the upper bunker..she didn't want the damn cold though. all she
needed was some sleep without fear of falling down over snoring people,
or fracturing bones, disfigurement of  face, losing a teeth or two...
the unease was growing n she thought she was going to jump out
of her bunker out of sheer panic.as she thought there was no one to
 control her if she did so...no one to save her from  'downfall', panic
grew. it was better to jump once n for all than suffering a night full of
sleepless fear.she looked at her hands.the left hand was holding the not
so reliable(to her) chain that held the bunker and right one gripped her
 mobile. she opened the inbox...her trembling fingers went from one
 message to another...trying to find some shelter in the messages...
                                                                        (to be contd.)

anuja's: an sms story 42

anuja's: an sms story 42: "10.15p.m..... Anna:I am not really rude yaar! I am frank. And i was just pulling ur legs yesterday. Armaan:ADOLOSCENT BOYZ FULL O..."

an sms story 42

10.15p.m.....




Anna:I am not really rude
yaar! I am frank.
And i was just
pulling ur legs
yesterday.



Armaan:ADOLOSCENT BOYZ
FULL OF 'S'
OBSESSIONS CANNOT
SNAP OUT OF THINGS
EASILY..




Anna:Jharchhis keno? eto
ki kharap katha
bolechhi?




Armaan: silence....




Anna couldn't help but notice that her messages were embracing the short forms
Armaan used. she had always believed in using the words complete in letters et al.
she  was finally learning to use, in her own way, the 'short' messaging service.



she drank water. kept drinking as sleep refused to come easily. drink water from the
side table:
once...put head on the thin cushion (she can not use a pillow due to spondylitis)... slurp, slurrp, slurrrp...
drink water from the bottle:
 twice...go to the bathroom as a result of drinking a bottle full of water...
sound of the malfunctioning tap..tip, tik, tip,tik..
she could hear the irritating noise from her bed.checked the mobile to soothe her nerves.




Armaan:Hum lakh achhe sahi..............




Armaan:Abhi na mujhe.....................




she was fed up with  his repetitions.




1.00a.m.no more messages. she went to sleep.
                                             (to be contd.)

an sms story 41

she remembers....


an average height boy standing beneath the tall tree she didn't know the
 name of. looking at her as she asked, 'would u catch the train to DGP?'
that was the moment, now she knows, that bound her to him forever...
those eyes, so characteristic of his community, continued to look as he
replied gravely,'yes'. he was silent that day. an average boy...as days rolled she
discovered that she had a soft corner for him, a certain sweetness which rendered
 all his boyish behavior a certain charm in her eyes. thats all. was it? his moustache,
so teenager like, and the way he walked, a slow rhythm in it. a sort of deliberate
grace though every bit natural. not like Anna as she walked  with strong n
noisy steps, emulating smartness of movie divas or 'modern' women, keeping
 her spine erect, as if going to war...all the while losing it.
                                                        (to be contd.)
                                                                

anuja's: an sms story40

anuja's: an sms story40: "was he hurt for such a small thing as a friendly leg-pulling? this emotional? she could hardly believe it. a guy so preoccupied with se..."

an sms story40

was he hurt for such a small thing as a friendly leg-pulling? this emotional?
she could hardly believe it. a guy so preoccupied with sex...whose sense
of humor started and ended with the lowest common denominator..how
could he mind so much  Anna's bit of fun-making? he was not hurt when
Anna forbade him to message. neither when she rebuked him for his wish
 to chat her up in his wife's absence. rather he ignored unashamedly
the whole thing n continued, all the while feigning ignorance about the true
 meaning of her message. Anna decided to believe the tone of Armaan and
 was sorry that her mere words could hurt him so....
and his hurt gave her joy..like after a long summer day you roll your tongue
 over the white mound of  vanilla ice-cream, the pale-red tongue breaking into
cold ecstasy  n you feel there is nothing much wrong with the world..as if the world
was a good place to live in..and the aroma of vanilla filling your nostrils..she could
 see herself in Armaan. from behind the curtain of fun n jokes, a sensitive soul
peered and beckoned Anna. have a look, please!



10.12p.m.......


Armaan:ADOLOSCENT BOYZ
FULL OF 'S'
OBSESSIONS
*some text missing*
           (to be contd.)

anuja's: an sms story39

anuja's: an ams story39: "10.00p.m...... Armaan:No NEW TITLES FOR ME TODAY? Anna:'Sheru'baba! Armaan:THANX AGAIN &nbsp..."

an sms story39

10.00p.m......


Armaan:No NEW TITLES FOR
ME TODAY?



Anna:'Sheru'baba!




Armaan:THANX AGAIN
                    (to be contd.)
9T8ENZZ6RDQ6

an sms story 38

.......Anna's heart sat heavy in the lonely corner of her world again.
the same burden that she has borne for years..of nonreciprocating
love...which she can not tear out even if she tries with a meat-cutting knife.
how can she not love ? which was the way to oblivion? to shut  affection out?
an affection that has gushed for ten years as she studied, walked the streets
of a fast-growing city, sat in the park and watched cuddling couples, stood in
 the station on her way to work and her eyes searched relentlessly the face with
soft moustache? even as she held the cell in her hands now and caressed the electronic
 words... and waited for the messages, true or false? in spite of  ever-gnawing suspicions...



9.30p.m..........



Armaan:A strange fact:
Its very easy to hurt
some 1 n then say
SORRY
but its really very
difficult to get hurt n
say
!I AM FINE!
        (to be contd.)

anuja's: an sms story 37

anuja's: an sms story 37: "Armaan:Aapki palkon me khwaab sajaye koi, Aapki Aankho me sapne de jaye koi. Lekin us din na bhool jana hume, Jis din humse achcha mil j..."

an sms story 37

Armaan:Aapki palkon me
khwaab sajaye koi,
Aapki Aankho me
sapne de jaye koi.
Lekin us din na
bhool jana hume,
Jis din humse
achcha mil jaye
koi......




the words stabbed at her love-soaked heart.
how could he be so indifferent at the same time that
he expresses love? how very much like a guy
of the world! how very much so!! to know the
 ways of life and not be sorry for it...no rebellion
in him to question it...meek acceptance. then why
tell at all? why didn't he keep his fingers tight shut?
what is the use? just romanticism for  gone years?
old fears returned. fear of not ever been loved by
 him.just a face n the memory of that, raising its
sweetness in the boredom of cut-throat court-life.
 fondness for old infatuation..and if it was something
 else? if he sends this specific message to every other
woman he feels romantic about? or has a certain fondness
 for?so that he can be into relationships without giving
 them the scope for any claims whatsoever? like
 'just a good friend of mine', not more that that?
 in the olden days, he had said that when questioned by
a classmate who was probably sweet on Anna....she
remembers this particular message was sent to her in
the initial days of their message-friendship. why this repetition?
 perhaps he can't keep track of the messages he sends to
 his lady-friends? he would be just as 'friendly' to 'that' female
 friend of his too? the night smudged darker on the glasses
 of the window, as if reflecting the growing darkness of Anna's own mind......
                                                                                           (to be contd.)

anuja's: an sms story36

anuja's: an sms story36: "9.p.m.................. she herself was deliberately being emotional. what the hell! she could have done more just to hear those words, ..."

an sms story36

9.p.m..................

she herself was deliberately being emotional.
what the hell! she could have done more
just to hear those words, veiled behind
poetry, coming from Armaan. slowly the
decision was forming in her mind...to type things, to
compensate for the hurt...to give something of the
 passionate romanticism that oozed out of the shayaris
back to him. her own passion,  cooped long within
her body n soul, was getting ready with a rage, to come out
......as The Ganges descended from the heaven, with mischievous
force...to flip aside everything that came in her way......her conscience,
her dignity, her sense of fair play. at her thirties, she finally became the
willful teenager....



...the flirtatiously cold night wrapped her up with  sensual craving...
Anna took the Kashmiri shawl n retired for the night.closing the door
of her room, in the seclusion, on her bed, she read her messages n his
and waited for more to come her way. to say more, to know more...


Anna plugged the mobile....nowadays she was particularly careful to see
 that the mobile never went out of charge. hmm..two sticks..three sticks..four..
she was getting impatient...



9.12p.m....


Armaan:Sukun Mil Gya
Humko Badnam
Hokar
Uske Har 1  Ilzam pe
Yu
Bezuban Hokar
Log Pad Hi Lenge
Uski
Ankho Me Meri
Mohabbat
Chahe kar de Wo
Inkar
Anjan Hokar.
         (to be contd.)

anuja's: an sms story35

anuja's: an sms story35: "Armaan:KAGAZ PE HUMNE ZINDAGI LIKH DI, ANSUON SE SEENCH KAR HAR KHUSHI LIKH DI, DARD KO JAB HUMNE UBHARA LAFZO PE, LOGO NE KAHA WAH KYA ..."

an sms story35

Armaan:KAGAZ PE HUMNE
ZINDAGI LIKH DI,
ANSUON SE SEENCH
KAR HAR KHUSHI
LIKH DI,
DARD KO JAB HUMNE
UBHARA LAFZO PE,
LOGO NE KAHA WAH
KYA GHAZAL LIKH DI.




Armaan:Abhi na mujhe
dafnao yaaro mere
dosto ko zara der se
aane ki aadat hai,
abhi na dalo mere
chehre par kafan,
unhe ye chehra
dekh kar
muskurane ki aadat
hai.




Anna:Oye! Tor mathai ki
sher-o-shayarir
bhut chepechhe?




she couldn't bear the emotional tone of Armaan,
so uncharacteristic of him...and, finally, she had no
 doubts that had nagged her for years...Anna felt happy,
she felt sad..all the undone years, the wastage of it all.
two bodies, longing in the same direction to each other,
 yet failing to meet.didn't mother nature miss anything?
unique gene was to be created out of two people who
 spoke different languages,belonged to different cultural
communities....and knew the language which is the
privilege of able, eager bodies... left unspoken as tongues
forgot to express  what hormones built up in the minds.




Anna:Once upon a time: i
was alone in the
dark/ never let
down my guard/
closed the curtain
on my heart/ so the
the world could not
see/ all the demons
in me/ told myself  i
was free-have u heard
 this song by Martina McBride,
 a favourite of mine.



Anna:In all unimportant
matters, sincerity,
not style, is the
essential. In all
important matters,
style, not sincerity,
is the essential-
oscar wilde



Anna:Kuchal hasrate kitni
apni/hai  bana paya
hala/ kitne armano
ko karke/ khak
bana paya pyala/pi
pinewale chal
denge/hai, na koi
janega/kitne man
ke mahal dahe, tab/
khari hui yeh
madhushala.



Anna:Ragon me daurne
ke/ hun nahi kayal/
jab ankhi se nah
tapka to/ phir lahoo
kya hai?



Anna:There is great
satisfaction in
remaining faithful,
perhaps it is the
greatest
satisfaction of all.
Even if no
one values it. But
what ...if no one
needed it?-
alexander
solzhenetsyn
       (to be contd.)

anuja's: an sms story34

anuja's: an sms story34: "Next day: Armaan remained silent whole of the day as she waited for his messages in vain. in the evening Jehovah's Witness pe..."

anuja's: an sms story29

anuja's: an sms story29: "......... CUMING AND POKING UR NOSE AND EARS WITH SHARP THINGS....HA HA HE HE HO HO. she slept.unaware of all the messages that purp..."

anuja's: an sms story30

anuja's: an sms story30: "Armaan:DID U GET THE CORRECT ANS. BY DA WAY? Anna:Don't message me while drunk. I dislike drunkards. Armaan:I WAS JOKING, HA HA HA...."

anuja's: an sms story31

anuja's: an sms story31: "Armaan:A yng woman on flight frm Switzerland asked the priest,' Father, may I ask a favour? Father,' of course. wht may I do fo you?' Lad..."

anuja's: an sms story32

anuja's: an sms story32: "Armaan:Jhuki najron se ikrar mat karna, najre uthakar inkar mat karna, raat bhar tadapte hai kisi ki yaad me isiliye dusro se kehte hai k..."

anuja's: an sms story33

anuja's: an sms story33: "Anahita opened the door.went inside n turned the switches on. the whole front courtyard was playing with the shadows...shadows in the noo..."

anuja's: an sms story34

anuja's: an sms story34: "Next day: Armaan remained silent whole of the day as she waited for his messages in vain. in the evening Jehovah's Witness pe..."

anuja's: an sms story34

anuja's: an sms story34: "Next day: Armaan remained silent whole of the day as she waited for his messages in vain. in the evening Jehovah's Witness pe..."

an sms story34

Next day:





Armaan remained silent whole of the day as she waited for his messages in vain. in the evening Jehovah's Witness people came.she was  becoming fast friends with these guys.but as she attempted to know their viewpoint on god, spirituality and the end of the world, all she managed to hear was how satanic the Muslim religion is and how idiotic and false the Hindu one.exchange the old superstition for a new one.the fear of the 'other' will remain intact, don't worry! she tried to argue some sense back into their idea of religion as she talked of Dan Brown's The Lost Word.. talked of  'Free Will' of the Jim Carey movie...all the while checking
for 'love' in her mobile amidst all the blabbering of hatred....


a barren evening...




8p.m......




Armaan:Paas Aane  Ki
Ummed Thi Jinse
Wohi faasle
Banate Chale Gaye
Hum Toh Pas Aane
Ki Koshish Me The
Jaane Kyon Woh
Dooriyan Badhate
Chale Gaye







those long afternoons...a shy Anna in the eye of a storm that was her own feelings...those females with their petty but effective conspiracies as they tried to exclude her from their group...she observed and remained silent.she was too much of a female to fight other women over a male.she believed in fair chance. if one of them wanted Armaan let her have him, as a friend or otherwise.there would be some stooping if she took up arms against these silly yet active possessiveness. Armaan, blissfully unaware of this everyday undercurrent, spent his days laughing and making others laugh, striking friendships, telling jokes, all the while reserving an eye for Anna. Anna had no choice but to remain distant.and she saw her aloofness hurt him as she laughed at the jokes of other guys,..as she, beautifully draped in a yellow saree, talked incessantly to other male classmates..as she sat in the station, all by herself..and he called her kheppi, pagli, crack....





Armaan:Beautiful Truth
Against Gravity:
"The heart feels
light when
Someone is in it.
But it feels very
heavy when
Someone leaves it!"




she was experiencing his pain.pain given by her.more painful than feeling one's own.




Anna: Baap re baap!today
i am getting to hear
serious people only, and
serious thoughts!




Armaan:Is riste ko yuhi
banaye rakhna. dil
me yadon ka chirag
jalaye rakhna..bahot
 pyara safar raha ab tak
ka, gujarish hai ye
safar age bhi
banaye rakhna.!





Armaan:Tough times Bcom
Beautiful...wen our
Beloved ones wipe
Our Tears Saying
"Hey Stupid..! I m
Here 4 u na". Even
Tears Turn To
smile..dats relatn..!!




Armaan:Bichhad gye to
milne ki aas kya
rkhna
hawa ki jhonke ka
hisab kya rkhna
Bs is khyal se
muskura diya
humne
ki apni udasi se kisi
ko udas kya rkhna






Anna:Where is that
famous light-
hearted
naughtiness yaar!
Guess some of my
seriousness rubbed
off on you. b-a-d
influence! Snap out
of it. Quick!




Armaan:I asked God," Y do v
fal in a relatnship
wd sum 1 wen v
knw dt it wil end
after sumtym?"
God tld me,"i'll ans u
bt 1st tel me y v live
ven u knw dat u hv
2 die 1 day."




Anna:Phir se god? phew!
Arre yaar, i was
bored the whole
evening by jehova's
witness people. ab
tu bhi chalu ho
gaya?
   (to be contd.)

anuja's: an sms story33

anuja's: an sms story33: "Anahita opened the door.went inside n turned the switches on. the whole front courtyard was playing with the shadows...shadows in the noo..."

an sms story33

Anahita opened the door.went inside n turned the switches on. the whole front courtyard
was playing with the shadows...shadows in the nook n corner of the big tree that hung heavy
on the small trees.she could hear the foxes crying in the distance.their habitat was slowly and
 deliberately being destroyed to make new roads, improve transportation...there was a tech-city
 coming up in the neighboring area.in the daytime they hide in the bush-holes n when evening drops
 her robe, they come out, together, and..hoooooo.......


9p.m....

she opened the pack of pao bhaji. the slightly stale aroma  of butter and lemon
brought water on her tongue-tips.she broke the bread, took  a bite as the generous butter
made a thick film on her thin lips.but all the while that she danced, moved, stood, sat,
her stare went back  again n again to the black phone with red stripe which she had
kept by the side of her pillow.


she checked the inbox before finally going to sleep...

1.00a.m......

Armaan:Hum lakh achhe
Sahi  par log kharab
kahte h, bigda hua
humko wo nawab
kahte h, hum to aise
badnaam  ho gaye k
 pani b piye to log
 sharab kahte h....

1.30a.m.......

Armaan: Dunia
waalo...
Mai Aap sabko
Chhod kar ja Raha
Hu
.
.
.
.
.
SONE
GOOD NIGHT..
     (to be contd.)

anuja's: an sms story32

anuja's: an sms story32: "Armaan:Jhuki najron se ikrar mat karna, najre uthakar inkar mat karna, raat bhar tadapte hai kisi ki yaad me isiliye dusro se kehte hai k..."

an sms story32

Armaan:Jhuki najron se
ikrar mat
karna, najre uthakar
inkar mat
karna, raat bhar
tadapte hai kisi ki
yaad me isiliye
dusro se kehte hai
ki pyar mat karna.....



Anahita reached home and sat on the verandah.7p.m. the lights were off. she sat
in the darkness and re-read the messages. she has, after a long wait, got
back 'her' Armaan...but how! the white roses continued to spread their
scent as she decided to go with it....the soft petals of flowers,  the cardamom n cinnamon
trees...the allspice leaves, all trembled, and whispered,..come what may....


Armaan:
           ------
            -(         ''>
             --,--,-
           1 ta chilo idur.
r nei, bas 1 tai
chilo..(winking smiley)


Anna:Hey, i am listening
 to enrique, yaar!
 Dont have time for
 ur 'silly messages.
 Ha ha


Armaan:AGAIN SILLY? JA
KATTI...


Armaan:why could Pamela
Anderson never
become a school teacher?
Bcoz everytime she
moved to write
Something on a
board, d words got
rubbed....(two winking smileys close together)HA HA


Anna:A friendly and
timely advice: U
should immediately
see a shrink.


Armaan:UFF..AGAIN ANGREJI.
WAT DA HELL IS
SHRINK NOW?


Anna:Psychiatrist.


Armaan:TUNE MUJHE  PAGAL
KAHA?

Anna:Ke bolechhe
pagolra shrinker
kachhe jai.
Adolescentra jai, to
get out of their 's'
obsessions.


Armaan:THANX FOR THE NEW
ADDITIONS. PAGOL,
ADOLOSCENT, FULL
OF OBSESSIONS.
KEEP IT UP DEAR. I
AM HIGHLY OBLIGED,
MY LADYSHIP!


Armaan;O HO I JUST NOTICED
'S'. THANX A LOT
YAAR.


Armaan:THIS IS WAT U GET
FOR MAKING OTHERS
LAUGH. THANX ANN.
               (to be contd.)

anuja's: an sms story31

anuja's: an sms story31: "Armaan:A yng woman on flight frm Switzerland asked the priest,' Father, may I ask a favour? Father,' of course. wht may I do fo you?' Lad..."

an sms story31

Armaan:A yng woman on
flight frm
Switzerland asked
the priest," Father,
may I ask a favour?
Father," of course.
wht may I do fo
you?"
Lady," well, I bought
an expensive
Electronic hair dryer
tht is well over D
Customs limits n I m
afraid they'll
confiscate it. is
there any way U
could carry it
through customs
for me? Under your
robes perhaps?
Father," I would
love2 help u, dear,
but I must warn U; I
will not lie."
When they got to
Customs, she let D
priest go ahead of
her. D oficer askd,
"Father, do u hve
anything 2 declare?"
"Frm D top of my
head 2 my waist, hve noting 2
declare."
D oficer thoght
this ans
wer strange, so
asked,"And wht do
u hae 2 declare frm
ur waist 2 D floor?"
"I hve a marvelous
little instrument
designed to be used
on a woman, but
which is, to date,
unused.:
Roaring with
laughter, the official said,"Go
ahead, Father."


Armaan:santa ur son is
dead. Hearing this
bad news Santa
Jumps from 50th
floor.
35th floor he
realized......I don't
have son.
30th floor I m not
married and 3rd
floor......................
SHIT I M BANTA....


Armaan:Mana aap sabse
Jyada azzez ho..,
Dil K sabse Jyada
Kareeb ho..,
Na call na SmS,
Kya  Aap,
"Sudama"
Se jyada gareeb
ho?
(to be contd.)