tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-371913142012-01-02T11:18:15.404-08:00of forgotten and unnoticed details...along red roads on rainy eveningsJhonny walkernoreply@blogger.comBlogger231100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37191314.post-88846049244892878762010-04-22T13:02:00.000-07:002010-04-23T11:48:36.095-07:00

The flight was taking an abnormally long time in boarding. She stole a peek into the main cabin. Some seated, some on the aisle and some in between. This confusion always made her smile. It was just a two hour flight and such an emphasis on finding the right seat, the right level of comfort, right blend of tea, right..right..right...wrong. It was wrong of her to stand there and amuse herself,

Jhonny walkernoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37191314.post-25950217966954521172009-11-06T20:34:00.001-08:002009-11-06T20:36:14.300-08:00

Zi was having a party tonight. It wasn't a big affair. Just a few friends over for a night of  drinking. His wife was in town and it called for some wining and dining. It was planned as a non- fussy affair with no goal other than getting drunk. As Wri would say, 'let the good times roll'. Some good time it will be. For one thing the party prevented the confrontation he had been averting for the

Jhonny walkernoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37191314.post-69594788761218190242009-10-03T11:27:00.000-07:002009-10-03T11:41:22.521-07:00

It was a foggy morning. So 9'o clock seemed like very early. And not just to Tee, but it seemed to her the whole house..in fact the whole town had decided to set back the clock a few hours. There was really no hurry, she mused to herself. After all, they all would be hurrying to the same things they hurried to everyday, only to find out that everything could have waited..another few hours, at

Jhonny walkernoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37191314.post-4162462871496718432009-01-30T11:56:00.000-08:002009-11-23T13:16:28.516-08:00

Once upon a time there lived a little fairy. Her name was Miranda. She was pretty and she loved to frolic in the warm ocean. She played in the aquamarine waters and rode the white foaming crests of high waves till she landed on snow white surfaces of golden sand. As she scanned the horizon she could see no one and nothing...just a wide stretch of paradise, blue skies and a lovely red Sun. Now we

Jhonny walkernoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37191314.post-8374332226183020062009-01-28T19:38:00.000-08:002009-01-29T12:04:37.203-08:00

It was around evening. Dusk was setting in. In the Big House she never quite felt the need to look at time. It sufficed to know whether it was morning-noon-evening-night. It seemed to her that time was playing a kind of hide and seek game with her in this house. It was a fun game that she had come to love from that day she first set foot in this house. Couldn't even remember when that was. But

Jhonny walkernoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37191314.post-60362014665688269132008-10-03T15:31:00.000-07:002009-01-07T12:35:30.247-08:00

The rains followed her and she followed the rains. She had followed them all the way to Spain and then back to Cambodia. It had been a long journey, punctuated with riddles and puddles, colors and shapes, smells and tastes. But most of all, it had been a journey in which love was born. This is her story..the story of a girl who followed the rains, fell in love and...did she return? To think, it

Jhonny walkernoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37191314.post-91792588800113065242008-09-12T12:34:00.000-07:002009-01-07T12:33:08.989-08:00

She stood on The Balcony looking down. Far down..so incredibly small were the teeming masses of humanity on four wheels, rushing past her.... Tee got up that morning a little groggier than her usual self. She had been up almost the entire night reading Somerset Maugham .The Razor's edge. She couldn’t help but reflect on how appropriate the title was to the contents of the book. She thought to

Jhonny walkernoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37191314.post-59639538073354883802008-04-26T10:41:00.000-07:002008-12-10T21:02:16.200-08:00

It was a cold night in a small township in a not-so-far-away corner of the world. A blizzard was howling. The Girl looked outside and sighed. Tonight, she would have to walk to her place. Usually she biked. But just today morning, she noticed that her bike had a flat tire. It took her a good part of an hour to reach her place by bike.Walking would take about a couple of hours. It was so cold

Jhonny walkernoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37191314.post-20487629146692909032008-03-14T14:41:00.000-07:002008-09-12T15:34:00.347-07:00

She wasn't much into mythology. But mythology did offer her the vista into a world of infinite probabilities. Now, Hindu mythology, like any other mythologies in any civilisation of the world, is rich in fascinatingly impossible tales of Gods, and their interventions in preserving the lowly form of human life down here on the Earth. A particularly interesting one involves the reincarnation (so

Jhonny walkernoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37191314.post-73332826739247052842008-03-03T18:50:00.000-08:002008-12-10T21:02:16.660-08:00

She knew him for almost twenty years now. Through most of her childhood, all of her adolesence and youth he had been there. Silent, un-ubiquitous but, always present with that quiet and shy smile. There was never a time that anybody in the household would notice his presence. But his absences, which were few and far apart, never went unnoticed. Be it watering the plants in the huge garden that

Jhonny walkernoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37191314.post-77386402792071326502008-02-28T14:09:00.000-08:002008-12-10T21:02:16.885-08:00

It was something about the colour red that appealed to Mrs B. She had realised this over the past month. It wasn't because red had several shades, each one coded to the myrad mood swings that charecterised her personality. Because so did blue, green, orange and all the other colours of the rainbow. Not also because red was flashy and prominent. Although in her younger days she had claimed to

Jhonny walkernoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37191314.post-11271202048305828772008-01-27T15:07:00.000-08:002008-12-10T21:02:17.038-08:00

Mrs B looked out of her window. It was a late January morning. A blizzard has been blowing over her house for the last two days. She had gotten used to pushing aside the curtain across her window pane, with the hope that it would be sunny and green outside. But no. All she saw was little chips of ice and snow dancing wildly outside her window sill. The flakes moved in random, crazy patterns as

Jhonny walkernoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37191314.post-16608868487759342312008-01-18T18:19:00.000-08:002008-12-10T21:02:17.282-08:00

"Mr.R was out of town","Mr.R was certainly right on this one","She had been on a winter holiday with Mr.R","Oh Yes! the picture. It was one taken by Mr.R","How interesting that Mr R had captured with his camera what she had silently enjoyed....the most","Mr R was never around..."For some time now this certain Mr.R has been often been given a casual referance. However, it does seem that Mr.R is

Jhonny walkernoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37191314.post-66721732472133424732008-01-10T13:20:00.000-08:002008-12-10T21:02:17.591-08:00

Mrs B was quite happy these last few days. She had been on a winter holiday with Mr.R. I say winter because it was in the northern hemisphere and 25th dec in this half of the globe is considered winter. There was nothing really to suggest it was so. Blue sky..light fluffy clouds..palm trees..coral reefs, aquamarine blue sea with changing hues , a hot and bright sun till 7 in the evening..warm

Jhonny walkernoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37191314.post-4307114739832112962007-11-16T14:55:00.000-08:002008-12-10T21:02:17.886-08:00

It was an evening in early August. In this small town in West Bengal, just a hundred miles west of Kolkata. Evenings during this time of the year are usually pleasant. The last vestiges of the long drawn out monsoon makes a couple of appearances before journeying farther south, where they keep up their lively and tireless performance for the rest of the year. Well..almost.Today was one such day.

Jhonny walkernoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37191314.post-89103495541463846572007-11-01T19:47:00.000-07:002008-09-12T15:28:09.712-07:00

"oi je ..oi Asiatic Society ta aache na tar shamne niye choulun" (you know the Asiatic Society ? Drop me off in front of it). Mrs B directed the taxi driver while adjusting her shirt. She was going to Park Street. She felt light and carefree. To the young people who spent their youth in Kolkata, Park street was the place to be. It had the best shopping centres , pubs, and resturants that the city

Jhonny walkernoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37191314.post-21577789517748159982007-10-29T10:57:00.000-07:002008-12-10T21:02:18.191-08:00

Chaye chhhayee (tea tea). Gorrram choppp (snack). Ladies Moja (ladies socks). The train had come to a halt and the sudden, concerted, cacophony of the vendors jolted her out of "The Human Bondage" - a book she had been immersed in for the last hour or so. Which station was it ? Bagnan. She looked at her watch. Crap! It was still on Boston time. But she knew, from the countless number of times she

Jhonny walkernoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37191314.post-20269761693051070962007-10-26T12:47:00.000-07:002008-12-10T21:02:18.412-08:00

Mrs B was late. This was not unusual. She was always late. In school she was known as Late Kate. Nonetheless she felt harried and guilty whenever she was late.Today was no exception. It was Tuesday. She got up at 10 am. She always got up late. Yet she was always agahst at how late she slept. She definitely should go to bed earlier.Hurriedly she drank her Lipton spiced chai. It felt good. Desk top

Jhonny walkernoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37191314.post-34617253712860809962007-10-25T11:28:00.000-07:002008-09-12T15:30:07.910-07:00

It was a regular Saturday afternoon. Mr.R was out of town for the weekend. It seemed that these days he was away most of the time. Mrs.B was finally getting ready to go the department. Lately, it seemed she was always at the department. Was it only yesterday when she had promised that this weekend she would stay away from work? She had decided that tomorrow she will finish writing that letter to

Jhonny walkernoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37191314.post-1166827657433321442006-12-22T14:33:00.000-08:002008-09-12T15:39:48.815-07:00

It is christmas.But there is no snow and no snowman. There are lights everywhere.The small lamps burning in the buildings. So high. Beyond what the eyes can see..but can fathom. She looked up. She saw the stars.Very few of them. It is still dusk.They will probably become visible later...later...She resumed walking.She knew where she was headed. But she walked more on impulse and less on purpose.

Jhonny walkernoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37191314.post-1164558955242371772006-11-26T08:33:00.000-08:002008-09-12T15:41:43.899-07:00

Lights. A lighted room. A lighted stage. A moonlit porch. She is on the porch…walks in. From a distance eyes the door, ajar. Hears music. Someone in the room? Walks cautiously towards the door. Peeps into the lighted room. Sees a lighted podium…and a shadow on the wall…playing. The shadow of the piano is on the wall…a shadow again…a shadow playing with a shadow; creating an illusion. A reality?

Jhonny walkernoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37191314.post-1163111420808775922006-11-09T13:29:00.000-08:002008-02-23T18:45:50.621-08:00

Life is beautiful ...I have heard it..have even believed in it.For...A long time. A really long time.Never asked questions(?).Never stopped to ask(?) How many of us do?Things which give me pleasure ..is not be questioned.I made the attempt to ask questions.It was a mistake?Not sure ..but things certainly dont ssem as beautiful anymore(?)so what was this.A faith in a few intelligently construed

Jhonny walkernoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37191314.post-1162760670140144242006-11-05T13:00:00.000-08:002006-11-05T13:04:30.146-08:00

...Here I come..setting out to do what I had set out never to do.Amen.

Jhonny walkernoreply@blogger.com0