~That voice in Your Head~

Churn after Reading

2011-07-19T21:26:00.000-07:00

Recently a friend of mine asked me what I think about ‘True Love’. I said, “I don’t really know… there are many definitions of it.”

My friend said that I should give the most rational and non-mush-coated definition I knew.

I thought a bit and said: “If someone were to ask you, what would you die for, and what would you kill for, and if the first answer that came to your mind was the name of a person, then that according to me is true love.”

After that was dealt with, what I said got me thinking. Given the recent terrorist attacks and that entire anti-corruption furore in India, the youth and other common folk seem to have developed radical interest into the debilitated state of affairs (or affairs of state, if you may). Yet, I can’t help but think, what if someone were to ask all these ever-motivated people, all the ever-nosey media, all the ever-condescending authors and all the ever-twittery celebrities: What is that one thing they are ready to die for, and what is that one thing which they are ready to kill for?

I don’t know what they would answer, but I know fo-sho that it certainly won’t be India…

Now I do know (from my brief and questionable knowledge of history) that there was indeed a time when the vast majority of the said individuals would have actually said “India”. What interests me most, is why, when, and how did this huge transformation take place?

I don’t claim to have perfectly-acceptable-by-one-and-all answers to these questions, but the first step towards understanding a mystery or figuring out an unknown force, is asking the right questions…

So let me ask you a question…

Have you washed your hands today?

…and before we move any further, by the powers of subtle-product-placement bestowed in me, here’s a small message from our sponsors:

***Heartfelt apologies to my Devanagari illiterate friends... the following content will probably look Nordic-witchcraft-like to you, but hopefully it makes much more sense to the Devanagari literate… hopefully…

आज 15 अगस्त है,

पूरा देश स्वतन्त्रता के जोश में मस्त है,

फ़ोन पर, देशभर, बधाइयाँ बंट रही हैं,

नुक्कड़ की दुकानों में पुरजोर बर्फियां कट रही हैं...

राजपथ पर परेड देखने को भीड़ उमड़ रही है,

64 साल की हो चली है आज़ादी,

अब इसके चेहरे की झुर्रियां साफ़ दिखाई पड़ रही है.

अभी इस वक़्त, दूर एक अनजाने गाँव में, देश का निर्माण हो रहा है...

और अभी इस वक़्त ही, राजधानी में संविधान अपने प्राणों से हाथ धो रहा है,

उस गाँव में सरिया, बालू, cement और पसीना एक होकर,

नदी की ऊर्जा से बिजली उतपन्न करने का संघर्ष कर रहे हैं,

और दिल्ली के आलिशान ऑफिस में बैठे बाबू और साहिब,

Civil Engineer के design को अपने ही अंदाज़ में 'optimize' कर रहे हैं...

"देख लीजिये, हमारी constituency में बाँध टूटा तो पार्टी की घणी बदनामी हो जावेगी...."

"आप चिंता न करिए जी, पांच साल के पहले बांध को ज़रा सी भी आंच नहीं आवेगी.."

"पर पांच साल बाद टूटा, तो भी लोग हमपर ही न इलज़ाम लगावेंगे?"

"अरे.. तब उसका कारण हम ruling party का खराब maintenance बतावेंगे!"

और मजदूर बेचारा तो ये सोच रहा है,

की ये बाँध उसके गाँव में साल भर पानी, बिजली और खुशहाली लाएगा,

पर उसे क्या पता की आज गोधुली के पहले ही,

कच्चे cement से जुड़े एक भारी पत्थर के नीचे दबकर वो शहीद हो जायेगा...

आज 16 अगस्त है,

आलस भरी छुट्टी के बाद आज दफ्तर फिरसे व्यस्त हैं,

पर ये क्या? आज tiffin के साथ सुबह का paper नहीं आया है?

ओह अच्छा... हमारी तरह कल printing press ने भी आराम फ़रमाया है...

लेकिन...

क्या आपने इस ज्ञानवर्धक newspaper को पढ़कर कभी ये सोचा है...
...की आपकी plate तक खाना और घर तक बिजली पहुंचाने के लिए, रोज़ पचासों किसान और मजदूर मरते हैं,

और आप उनकी मौत को बस एक statistic की तरह पढ़कर, अपने current affairs के ज्ञान का उद्धार करते हैं??

पर इतना जान लीजिये,

की सिर्फ ऊँची सोच और नेक विचारों से देश नहीं बनता... देश बनाने के लिए खुद अपने हाथ गंदे करने पड़ते हैं......

Something like... this..

Serendipity

2011-03-20T19:38:00.000-07:00

I was in love then.. and the air felt so different.. I used to stay up all night thinking about her, imagining... envisaging crazy things, and wondering how things will turn out when I express my feelings to her and she accepts.. but what if she doesn’t? Oh but she will.. didn’t the bunch of random things she did for me (which any human being would have done for one of their acquaintances) like offering a Band-Aid when I fell from my bicycle or calling back saying "I'm sooh Sohrry" after seeing 7 missed calls from me, indicate that I meant something to her?

Maybe.. something special too?

And basically, if I didn’t, that could only mean two things.. either I am over-reading into things or.. she isn’t human..

So I forgot there was an activity such as sleeping or maybe even eating.. frankly I didn’t even feel like sleeping.. and at 4am in the morning I used to think that its late enough and lied down to rest my back on my bed. But my mind.. and my heart.. never rested.. restlessness is such a profound feeling.. you can never truly experience it without falling in love.. you might feel restless about your exam results, about your favorite teams performance in a tournament, or maybe about what you will be holding in your hands after ripping open your Christmas presents.. but you aren’t experiencing restlessness per se.. because none of the outcomes are in your hands (the exam results might be, but I choose to think otherwise).

In this case.. everything depends upon how you behave, how you dress in front of her, how you talk to her, how you treat her friends and her dog, how many questions you answer in class, and God knows what else.. you keep fine-tuning all these little things, so that, the one instance she looks at you during class, you aren’t found with your index finger inside your nostrils, poking away with perplexed fascination..

After half an hour of resting my back on my bed, I would give up, and go out for a walk or a jog, and I tell you, the air felt so different at that time of the day.. the Sun used to come out by the time I was on top of the partially constructed parking garage located right across the street from her house.. I used to sit in the same corner everyday, that strategic spot which offered maximum visibility and minimum exposure. When the Sun came out, I would start my day by peeking through the window into her sunlit room. She would get up, stretch a little, cuddle her dog, and after about 15 minutes, she came out to jog. After she would go beyond the horizon of my sight, I went along my own separate way, back to home.

I was always in a dilemma that whether or not I should join her on her jog. Wouldn’t that be a fantastic way of getting closer to her? Imagine commencing your day by meeting a person every morning.. how romantic a thought! It’s probably the precursor of being married.. The very thought just thrilled me.. but what kept me from doing so.. was this one question she might ask, that why do I come to jog in her neighborhood when I live like 4 miles away. Till now I had no good answer for that and I had determined that unless I come up with a good answer for it, I am not revealing myself.

So I would jog back home, imagining all the while that I am jogging along with her, and kept saying things that I would have said to her, if she were alongside me. But she was there, maybe not in person, so what? She was with me..

I smiled a lot those days, I sang a lot, and the sun seemed so much brighter then. The road on which I used to jog back was lined with trees on both sides.. I shouldn’t call them trees as they were more like stick figures rather than dense masses of foliage, but yet they seemed beautiful in their own scantiness.. they reminded me of myself.. inadequate creatures desperately trying to grow taller and taller, so that one day they could touch the Sun.. even though they knew they never could, they never stopped trying (as a kid I thought the trees were in love with the Sun.. what else can explain this amazing phenomena of something going against the mighty force of gravity and standing there high and tall for hundreds of years?).

The trees gave me motivation and every time I felt things are hopeless, I would turn to them for inspiration.

So after a lot of time had passed and I had fell in and out of love with her a considerable number of times, I finally decided to express myself to her. To bare it all. When she came out to jog that morning, I joined her and she recognized me. She asked me how I was in the neighborhood even though I lived on the other side of town. I said I was visiting my grandparents who lived nearby. We kept jogging, I started talking and I noticed something very odd.. for someone who goes out jogging every day, she had pretty bad stamina.. she started huffing and puffing in under half a mile and I found that pretty weird. She said she wanted to stop. We sat down on a thin patch of grass and she was noticeably out of breath. I asked her if she’d started jogging just recently, and she said that she goes out to jog every morning.

To which I asked if she has any medical problems and she instantaneously spat back “It’s not a problem OK?”

She looked at me and noticed that I was visibly startled and she said (in a much repressed tone) “or at least I don’t think it is..”

“What’s wrong?” I asked

“Can I trust you with something? Please say yes..”

“Ya sure.. with absolutely anything.. I cross my heart and I..”

“Its… this very weird feeling that I get.. every morning.. ”

.. and then she continued.. and it was the most heart-breaking thing I’ve ever heard in my life.. She said she had feelings for this girl who lived on the other side of their house.. and every morning she woke up and saw her sleeping, she would feel this strange attraction towards her.. and she would run away from her house and come to this deserted place where she would sit and cry and try to convince herself not to think about her..

I stopped paying attention to what she was saying after about 5 minutes.. The only thing going around in my head then, was the amazing irony that the very day I’d decided to reveal myself to her, she revealed herself to me..

I gave her every inch of superficial concern and apathy I had and consoled her, saying it is very hard to deal with these feelings etc. I never talked to her after that day. I also became an atheist.

Quite amazingly, after many, many years, I met her a few days ago on a running track near my house. We talked briefly and then went along our own ways. I noticed she has much better stamina now. Now I know, God exists and he has a wicked sense of humor. That girl she had feelings for, is now my wife.

~o~

We made Contact

2010-12-21T20:50:00.000-08:00

“The sky crumbled.. the stars shattered under their own weight.. the screeching noises burned like an inferno and blood boiled off the streets.. the ground was obliterated and the oceans turned to dust.. We made contact.. we finally made contact.. why did we do this to ourselves..”

That’s the only thing I could make out from that weeping woman’s voice in that tape. ‘We made contact’.. what kind of contact was she talking about? Whom did they contact that caused such mayhem?

There was something deeply intriguing and piteous about the way that woman was speaking.. what diabolical distention transpired inside this unknown planet that led to the creation of this tape? I had to find out.. I absolutely had to..

After a little tinkering, I found that this tape had some more information recorded in it. I guess it came from a voice recording device which she had used for her vocation. I put it into the translator and transcribed the entire thing. This is what came out of it.

***

“If a butterfly flaps its wings in the southern hemisphere, then two years later it can cause a hurricane in the northern hemisphere”

This is how he began his address to us, talking about the vagaries of chaos theory, and with that, trying to mesmerize an audience dominated by 20-year olds, some of whom would consequently start their thesis under him.

He had a certain charm to him, quite possibly that of a troubled genius, but there was something more too.. One could see how those numerous lines on his creased forehead deepened as he spoke. His voice not only had gravity, but also emotion, emotion that indicated that he cared about the words he spoke, and maybe, sometimes too much for his own good.

He was definitely not a person who was supposed to be found at such a downbeat university. He clearly deserved a spot amongst the elite academicians of the Ivy Leagues. His remarks were incisive and his tone had this alluring accent, that would make one beg to hear more of his speech. But only if he spoke more. That was the thing about him, he was a reluctant speaker. On the rare instances that he would speak, no one else could. His voice would overpower the entire ambience of the room and if you closed your eyes then, you would almost presume that there was a divine presence in that room.

I wasn’t a physics or math major. I wasn’t even in the same college. A friend of mine had told me about this mystical professor of hers, whom she said I would have loved to listen to. She wasn’t too far off.. I actually enjoyed every word he said and just like every other journalism major, who has that itch on stumbling upon something interesting, I too wanted to find out more about him…

Later that night, I knocked on his office door. He responded with a firm “Hmm?”.

“May I come in, Sir?”

“Hmm”

“I was present in your lecture today and even though I’m from a non-science background, I felt an incredible interest in the theories you proposed..”

“Hmm”

“Errr.. You might be wondering what I am doing here in your office at this odd hour and most probably I’m wasting your precious time. So without beating around the bush any further, let me get to the point.. I want to interview you, and I believe that this interview will be interesting enough to satisfy my degree requirements. ”

“So was that comment on my lecture just contrived coyness to create a context for this offer, or was it an earnest remark?”

“Uhh.. it was most certainly an earnest remark.. I mean you were wonderful and I can show that to the whole world how..”

“Your powers of articulation disappoint me.. I would rather die in oblivion than to be packaged and presented in a glorious spotlight which I’m undeserving of.”

“Oh no no.. you misunderstood.. I mean it wasn’t your fault.. and it’s just like.. I think we got off on the wrong foot..”

“I appreciate imagination and absolutely loathe, trite hackneyed clichés.. You have 12 words at your disposal. If by virtue of them you can convince me then I would certainly consider your offer, otherwise I would need to escort you to the nearest exit.”

“Hmmph… In all my life, I have never met a guy like you”

“It’s extremely generous of you to refer to this old bag of bones as a ‘Guy’.. haven’t heard that in a while..”

“Only coz its true.. not all journalists who..”

“When would you like to commence?”

“Anytime that you wish to!”

“I play Billiards every Friday night. You can join me there.”

“But.. err.. I don’t play.. I mean I don’t know how to play!”

“Don’t you worry about that. The only game I play, is the A-Game..”

***

We started with the game and true to his word, he cleared the table in his first round. I was amazed at how well he anticipated the game and how he almost knew beforehand where the balls are going to be positioned after their motion ceased. He was electric. After he was done with it, I got him a drink and said:

“You are a special person.. I guess you know that.. so why are you wasting your time here? You should be in some top scientific congress or the Presidents committee or something. Why are you squandering your talent here?”

“You want to know why I teach here? Why I work in a small office when I should be delivering lectures at science congresses? Why I care about so deeply, and work so meticulously, on something as obscure as the implications and consequences of the flapping of a butterfly's wings?

It’s because I had once endeavored to save the world.. and not like your average teenager who has a fetish for it.. I dedicated my entire life to it and had almost achieved it.. if only for....”

“Wait.. Save the world? Save it from whom? Butterflies?

“Even worse.. Save it from itself..”

“That doesn’t make much sense. Why exactly did you want to save the world?”

Because I was angry.. and outraged...

Why were You so angry?

Because I believed that our society is Hobbesian. I essentially saw people as bad creatures.. They have no faith in the power of humanity. They have all been failed by other people many times in many different aspects of their lives and take it out on others. For most people this rule of paying it forward is good enough to keep their life in balance. But not for me. Hence I wanted to revamp the way this world runs.

How did you try to do that?

I duplicated the human thought process.

Do you mean artificial intelligence?

You may term that as that, but it’s not actually that. You see the human thought process is highly random. There is so much randomness in our behavior and how we respond to different stimuli.. that stock markets or weather systems look like a joke compared to it. Essentially, modeling the human thought process is just a highly non-linear and extraordinarily convoluted problem of chaos theory. For centuries now, Psychologists and sociologists have been trying to figure it out but to no notable success. I knew there was something wrong in their approach and I had to fix that.

And what was wrong in their approach?

Vision. A Korean proverb says that if the human body is sold for 100 bucks, 80 bucks is just the price of vision...

They all lacked vision.

Vision meaning, hindsight, foresight and also most importantly, the bird’s eyes view. Basically, you can never model the vagaries of a dynamic system while you are a part of it. You have to get out of it, look at it from a higher standpoint, understand the intricacies and flaws and then get back into it. All this time, all these philosophers tried to predict human behavior from the data they gathered, but the data was always insufficient and incongruous, coz the boundary conditions and the initial conditions weren’t known. Now to model the behavior of a chaotic system, the knowledge of the initial and boundary conditions is required to a very high magnitude of precision. If you model it without them, then your results would be as chaotic as the system you are modeling. Often this was the reason that most great thinkers took their own lives. Their thoughts formed a deadlock. They couldn’t think anymore. And a person who can’t think anymore is already dead. The body is still warm and moist, but that is of no use to anyone. Hence they accepted the fact that they failed and bailed out. I knew this beforehand and hence took a different route…

I discovered, human intelligence is the cause of all problems in this world.. and hence I had to factor out the human intelligence variable from my model. The reason being, unlike every other things nature created, this one creation, was imperfect. So I set my initial conditions to be the point in time when human intelligence was zero.. by zero, I mean human behavior was a purely end-to-end, knee-jerk reaction type mechanism. Now, as far as the boundary conditions were concerned, I had to limit the expanses to which the human mind could foray into. Because many a times, what gave people the illusion of intelligence, was the fact that they could predict things in a manner others couldn’t. What this actually was, was a trite coincidence we prefer to refer as 'luck'. I know everyone can’t be lucky all the time, but then that’s exactly what probability says, a few people would be lucky in majority of the cases, like winning a lottery, only this time the grand prize was the aberration of intelligence. And these few people started thinking they are more intelligent than others. Hence their deviance in thoughts increased and as they passed on their ideas to others, they initiated a kind of chain reaction. And as you might now, a gamma decay is the most random process in this universe. The most. Mind that. Even I with my supreme intelligence can’t model it and even a million of my clones working together for all eternity, couldn’t. So you can see where the chaos in human thought arises from. Hence, the trick here was to create a controlled chain reaction, ideally a linear one, but a process with non-linearity of a couple of degrees would also work fine. So I created a system with these controlling conditions put in place, created a grid pattern with a band of colors that corresponded to the degree of intelligence in a thought, Blue being the most unintelligible one and red being the complete opposite. When different thoughts mixed, they produced a new color, and those colors upon further interaction created a new one. Now the thing was that these thought patterns were so designed, that they should be attracted to bluer shades and repulsed from the red ones..

But wouldn’t that eventually create a system of low or maybe no intelligence?

Yes I’m coming to that.. that’s the trick, that the reaction has to be sustained, and neither should it attain a state of exponential decay, nor exceeding critical mass, to blow up the entire system. I used a clever little trick for that. Morality. Humans are notorious for immoral behavior. Probably the only species that indulges in it..

You know why?

The other species do not even have a concept of morality. For them killing another creature is a form of survival instinct. They don’t kill someone for pleasure or because they think of it as a 'game'. Now morality is the second most important contributor to 'thought chaos' after intelligence. How morally or immorally a person would behave in a situation, is so hard to determine that I couldn’t dare to predict that. But one thing I can always predict, which is when given a choice to do something moral or immoral, there is always a little voice that urges you towards the immoral before you can even consider the consequences of the moral option. Modeling that perfectly was essential for me, as that turned out to be the stabilizing agent. Interactions with red areas was deemed 'immoral' and those with blue ones 'moral'.

And after some simple psychoanalysis, I could determine the coefficient of morality, as to how many instances of moral behavior can be expected and upto what degree. The distributions, if chosen correctly, fitted together beautifully, and a perfect state of morality was attained. Some thought elements would always interact with blue ones.. Most with 'kinda' blue ones.. Some with blue-ish ones.. some with cyan, some with purple, and a fraction, with ruddy, cardinal, Red. It took some calibration, but eventually it turned out to be so elegant a model, that I couldn’t believe my eyes. Was I a genius or was this creation the outcome of the great chaotic thought system we are all a part of? I didn’t know, but I knew one thing was for sure, a chaotic system has enough entropy for it to last till infinity. If a sub-process could negate the chaos, or in other words, add stability to it, the super-chaos-processes would try to subdue it. Maybe even annihilate it. But that didn’t happen in this case. This was clearly a way out of the chaos. The society I created was perfect. And I mean I go loony just thinking about it.. Even if the sub-parameters hadn’t been quantified, I would have still pursued it to my deathbed.. It’s so easy to get obsessed by your creation and the will to make it perfect can overpower your greatest ambitions. Hence I stopped perfecting it further, and once I had reasonable belief in the system’s stability, I moved onto my next task.. Implementation. This was so much easier said than done… What I needed for this task was a colony of people, whose memories I would erase, then set them off in a place secluded from modern civilization, feed their thought process through my developed model, and see how they actually behave. The risk here was, my resources were very limited.. if the system got unstable and my subjects started killing each other, or on the other hand, became so brain-dead that they couldn’t properly perform the most basic bodily functions, then I would be doomed and wouldn’t be allowed to perform another test, on grounds of a public massacre..

Where did you get you ‘subjects’ from?

I got the test subjects from military camps, underground agencies, third world countries and etc. etc. I set the entire thing up and there was a certain government body that supported me in my endeavors. The first day of the experiment began smoothly, and then disaster struck.

What happened?

The weather went bad. I had to do these experiments on a certain location which was an island. Now islands have pretty bad weather. So my subjects started falling ill because of it, and coz in the initial stages they lacked the intelligence of how to protect themselves, we had to go in and construct temporary shelters and camps for them. Now obviously, we the top authorities wouldn’t do this, so we called in staff from other parts of the globe, made sure not a single one of them knew the language of the other and constructed the entire camp up. Now the dilemma was what we do with these people who had a fair idea what was going on here. Well, since we already had the numbers, we thought why not get more data by creating more subjects.. So that’s what we did.. Erased those guys up and started fresh again. Only this time we faced another problem. The newer subjects, were as unintelligent as the older ones, but they had a bonus with them.. They had ability.. they were trained to do certain kind of work which didn’t require intelligence, but just a lot of training.. You know like how people who are not naturally ambidextrous can still play the Piano.. and how workers, with no knowledge of architecture or the greater design, still created the Great pyramids? Similarly, it was ability, something your intelligence has no part in determining, that screwed us up for the second time. One thing led to another and by the time we could stop the subjects, a lot of them had been killed by the 'able' ones.. Who could take a stick and wield it like an axe to knock down someone without any knowledge of the physics behind it.. Anyways that’s not the point. The point is, that the experiment kept getting messier and messier, more and more gruesome, we kept going over budget and behind schedule, and I could see two forces at play here.. one was that of the involved bureaucracy.. a section of whom were worried about the consequences of this experiment being discovered and the 'moral' implications they would have to face and the effect it would consequently have on their political status. As much as this force was tangible, I was as equally unaffected by its outcomes, because I was more interested in the dynamics of the second force at work. You might have guessed it.. "Universal Chaos"

This chaos was really smart.. it knew that it couldn’t stop me in my tracks analytically, as my model was perfect and the sustenance was spot on.. And Chaos could in no ways, without bending its self-imposed laws, violate the premises of my model. So it took the other way round.. it had so many other chaotic systems at its disposal, that it kept using them one by one to keep offsetting my models from its desired path.. Because it knew.. that even my model was essentially a chaotic one.. and any little change in its initial conditions, would cause a huge change in the final outcome.. Just like if I strike this ball at a point that is just a cats-whisker away from this one, my eventual board setting and even the outcome of the game would be entirely different..

So you mean to say that the Chaos theory is a 'it'? And that 'it' consciously messed up your diabolical experiments?

I wouldn’t have believed it if someone else told me about it and sometimes I find it hard to understand how could something so imprecise have such well crafted processes.. I started believing in terms like "meant to be" and "destined" et al. but still a part of me refuses to believe what happened and what is happening..

What is it that’s happening?

Well.. We never stopped the experiment.. In that little island.. those subjects are still present and living (I hope) a random kind of life.. who knows what kind of intelligence they might have developed or if they still dwell as cavemen.. I have no way of monitoring their daily processes..

Wait.. I don’t get it.. What exactly happened at the end?

Well the project got trashed.. all contacts from that island were cleaved, all deployed personnel revoked, funding removed, and I was most disgracefully rebuked.. All my grants were cancelled and I had to step down from my esteemed, tenured, state professorship.. The subjects were supposed to be brought back, but I convinced them that it would be a bad idea and somehow coaxed them into letting the experiment run.. and that no one would know about it.

Hmm.. that’s really sad.. but as much as I have known you till now.. I know you are not the kind who would accept such a harsh decision so easily.. There must be something that you would have done to turn things in your favor.. A man as calculative as you can’t leave things uncertain..

Hehe.. You’re right.. I was wrong to have underestimated your powers of analysis in the outset.. Yes I did figure out a way to stay in touch with them, albeit I don’t know how well it fared out.. but I know it eventually will..

What exactly did you do?

You know how I told you my subjects were moral creatures and a majority of them would behave morally so that their intelligence can be controlled? Well.. while leaving that place, I pulled the plug on morality and made them completely immoral.. so that their intelligence would increase to unexpected bounds.. And I’m pretty sure, that once they discover by virtue of their limitless intelligence, that they are not alone in this planet, they would try to make contact.. and I would come to know about them. The price I had to pay for it was that the results would be entirely unpredictable.. but you know.. there’s a certain joy in seeing an experiment go wrong when it was actually intended to go wrong.. Gives you a sense of control.. albeit a false one.. but at least you know you didn’t entirely screw up and that, maybe if things would have turned out better initially, who knows, you might have ended up changing the world! If they don’t make contact, then that would mean my predictions were wrong.

So.. doesn’t it worry you sometimes.. What might have transpired there? I mean even someone from a non-statistical background can say that this 'system' can have infinite possibilities..

Yes.. You are right.. It does both- bother me, and have infinite outcomes.. And I had worked on modeling this problem for quite some while.. I came up with a bunch of distributions that nearly estimated the approximate behavior.. and what I found was that in all cases.. the subjects would turn out to be more intelligent for their own good.. and I deduced, after a point, all of them would be supremely intelligent, and the great irony lies in the fact, that if everyone is a genius.. Then no one is.. And they being immoral creatures, would only choose one path.. that of self-annihilation.. So I don’t really expect them to be still alive.. But if they are.. then that would mean I screwed up and that I was wrong all along and the only option left for me then.. Would be suicide.. it’s too much of a burden to live with you know.. too much of a trauma when something you believed in your entire life, even when the whole world kept saying otherwise, turns out to be wrong.. The anguish is just unbearable.. I would most certainly..

Hey.. Shut up you.. Why is it that all you geniuses are so self-obsessed? There are other things to live for in life.. and it’s not just you guys who are subjected to unbearable stresses of expectation.. We all are.. it’s just the same for us too.. We bleed too when you gash us.. it’s just that you guys are so caught up in your abstract epiphanies that reality becomes a joke for you.. You keep predicting stuff right? Then tell me.. What are the chances that a 20-something journalist can fall in love with a 50 something escapist, esoteric and eccentric professor? Slim right? Yet this great anomaly has occurred and you can’t do a thing about it.. if you can’t live for yourself.. Live for me.. I am here to share your burden.. Even alleviate it.. and who knows.. Your past knowledge may somehow interact with some other co-incident inspiration and you can regain your seemingly lost prestige.. And you know how you said that nothing in life is certain.. I beg to differ.. I can say this with utmost confidence, that you will miss 100% of the shots you don’t take.. Give love a shot dear.. Trust me.. it’s worth it..

****

This was the last tape we recovered.. The entire planet was wiped out minutes after this conversation took place.. And as strange as it seemed in the beginning, this confirms the fact, that the attack was initiated, from a little speck of an island, inside this very planet… “Humans”.. what a queer race they were.. too good for their own good.. waging wars on each other suspecting them to be foes, while never realizing the fact.. that their greatest enemy.. was within them…

Lux Aeterna

2010-10-24T11:23:00.000-07:00

I was so happy then.. I often look at the pictures of those times to relive those memories..

Where did you get these pictures from?

I… I.. don’t remember.. I know I shot them but I can’t seem to recollect… maybe I had them developed…?

Hmm… nice.. Lux Aeterna again..

What’s Lux Aeterna?

The light that never fades out.. The eternal Light..

What’s that got to do with my mental condition?

I’ll tell you.. but let me tell you a story first…..

“It was foretold of Simataura, a place bristling with creatures beastly and ominous, that death will elude its inhabitants, and they shall end up scavenging their own children and kin, to feed their perpetually burgeoning hunger for blood. They fed on their progeny and reproduced only to further the quantity of measly morsels they would consume. They fed on natures finest creations and slowly grew as tall as Redwood trees, but with hearts smaller than a locusts pellets. Then they had wars, for their mothers were no longer able to procreate at a rate abreast with the rate of consumption, and they killed each other for the ghastly purpose of feeding their cadavers to their partners. Such became the nature of these creatures that Nature itself shuddered to acknowledge their existence.

But then Nature decided that it all had to end, and it bestowed upon them Lux Aeterna, the eternal light, the light of love.. for now these creatures could love each other and most importantly, love their offsprings. They could no longer eat them because even the sight of anguish on their posterity’s faces would cause an unfathomable pain in their chests. Hence they started to feed upon much lesser beings, slowly diminishing in size and valor, but growing from inside, spiritually, and humanely.

The Lux Aeterna was to remain eternal and never be doused by even the most fiendish of forces. And as history would have it, Simataura begun to be known as Sumatra, the island where the oldest human remains have been found to date…. The island where supposedly the human race began….”

I don’t know what to make of this story…

Well… you can call this myth or a preposterous piece of history, but the truth is, that the ability to love was once devoid of us humans. It’s in our genes to be unable to love and although these genes were suppressed for ages and almost disappeared few centuries back, they returned after the spawning of the Industrial Era. Busy work schedules, increasing need of personal space, lesser human interactions and unprecedented self-importance led to the hardening of our hearts and in some cases, even to paralysis…

Paralysis? How can not loving someone cause paralysis?

The reason is strange but all too true.. The mind is the center of all bodily functions.. so slowly the mind grew devoid of love for others and the sphere of affection began contracting.. it collapsed to our own bodies, and then shrank further, eluding the body parts one by one, where eventually, the only thing the mind cared about was itself.. it refused the body and would function only on its individual requirements. This led to sporadic paralysis and even periods of intermittent comatose states in some cases.

Whoa!! This is crazy.. Do you know someone who suffered from this?

There’s no easy way to say this but… uhh..

Oh God.. Don’t tell me.. I had this.. this.. syndrome?

Yes…

So how did I come out of it?

Well, there were a number of people suffering from the ‘Simatauran Syndrome’… and then a company called “Lux Aeterna” came into existence.. it cured such people by targeting their reactive minds and enabling them to love again. It successfully eradicated this syndrome in a few years, but then because its treatment processes were not certified, they eventually shut it down.

So… you mean to say they did this to me??

‘They’ did this to ‘You’? YOU did this to YOU! They cured you damnit.. redeemed you from almost certain paralysis.. True.. there were some side effects but that’s way better than being a vegetable all your life..

‘Some’ side effects? I feel like killing myself everytime I see those eyes looking at me in my dreams. I hallucinate about them.. obsess about them.. they ravage my thoughts and soul..

Don’t worry.. You’ll get over it.. I’ll help you.. that’s what I am here for..

I don’t want to get over it. I’ll find her..

Are you crazy? How can you find something that doesn’t exist? They just fed your brain with gooey-signals and impulses to recreate the illusion of love. God knows what legerdemain they pulled off.. but one thing is for sure.. none of it was real…

Let it be.. I am going to find her out.. I’ll find out who she was if it’s the last thing I do in life.. thanks for your time Doc..

***

Hey.. its been two years since I last saw you... What have you been upto?

Many things actually.. I tried innumerable things to track her down.. I asked people around.. put-up ads on e-bay.. developed a face recognition software.. hacked into the government records.. what not….

Any luck??

No… no….. no luck whatsoever..

So are you finally over her?

No.. not at all.. I can never be.. I was so happy then.. those pictures maybe fake according to you.. but look at how happy I am.. is that fake too?

Well it’s just the mental image of your happiness.. you imagined you were happy while your body was predominantly paralyzed all throughout.. I’m sorry to say this but its fake..

But then what about the things I am feeling now? Is that fake too? Is the fact that I’m seething with rage right now fake? Are the dreams that I have every night fake? Is that burning look in her eyes and the way it hypnotizes me also fake? And if they are fake, then I don’t know what’s real anymore.. Sometimes I feel so happy just thinking about her that I have to cut myself and bleed to judge whether I am on the dimension of reality or not... How could something so powerful be fake? The torment, the anguish, its not fake Doc.. it’s all too real.. and it doesn’t change anything if You believe in it or not.. I can feel it.. it’s my reality, not yours…

OK.. then tell me.. if you do get to meet her again.. What is the first thing you would like to do?

I.. would.. thank her.. thank her for giving my life back to me.. for making me feel so alive again.. and….

Very Well.. come with me..

***

What is this place?

No questions asked.. none answered.. sit down and close your eyes.. when you feel that your head’s about to explode.. tell me.. OK?

Hmm-hmm..

***

So.. did you meet her?

Hmm..

What happened? Did you ‘thank’ her?

Not really.. I felt strange when I saw her..

Strange as in?

As in.. All these years I kept thinking.. how long will I keep searching for her? How far would I go? How far should I go? And everytime I thought this.. I would dispel these thoughts by telling myself that finding her is the only way I can bring happiness back into my life.. but now that I saw her.. I didn’t even feel like talking to her.. she was so different from what I remembered her as.. her eyes were the same but they didn’t have that fervor.. her facial features.. everything was same but in some queer way.. so very different.. I.. I.. dunno..

Have you read the ‘Lord of the Rings’?

Ya.. well.. I’ve seen the movie..

Ok.. so tell me.. why do you think.. out of all the mighty warriors that existed.. an insignificant hobbit was chosen to be the ring bearer?

What’s that got to do with my situation??

It has plenty… you see.. the ring gave its bearer all these amazing powers.. so whoever wore it.. got addicted to it.. it had this magical aura that would leave everyone who caught even a sight of it, spellbound.. anyone who fantasized about great power or even marginally flirted with the idea of being immortal, couldn’t escape its hypnotic charm and would eventually sacrifice all they had to stay with the ring forever.. even if it meant to give up their own lives.. Now my question for you is.. Does this sound hyperbolic, or all too familiar?

I.. I………

You know.. When you try too hard to own something.. or gain possession of something.. you hold on to it too tightly.. so much so that you can’t let go of it anymore.. because in reality.. it’s not You who owns that ‘thing’.. it’s that ‘thing’ that ends up owning you.. Does this make any sense to you??

Hmm…

Now imagine yourself.. standing on top of a fiery volcano.. with that precious ring in your hand.. you need to throw it in the fire to protect humanity’s existence.. but then you have this unbearable urge to stay with the ring.. what would you do if you were a greedy human instead of an unaspiring hobbit? Could you let go? Tell me.. Could You?

N.. No..

But if you absolutely had to throw it in.. what would you do? Would you consider going along with it into the hellish fire-hole as a valid option??

Ok.. very well.. I get it Doc.. I should have let her go.. should have gotten over her a long time ago.. and shouldn’t have wasted so much time obsessing about her.. but how does that explain what I felt when I saw her there?

Hehe.. it’s all too simple.. Your greedy genes ensure that your mind is still its own selfish self.. when you were hooked to Lux Aeterna few minutes ago.. you saw her again.. and your mind was shocked to see the less than perfect image of her.. she wasn’t as amazing as the image your vivid imagination had painted.. but yet.. she was there right in front of you.. the fruition of many years of intense struggle.. but yet.. she was imperfect.. because.. everytime you had second thoughts about whether or not you should continue this wild goose chase.. your mind tricked you by painting an even prettier picture of her.. eventually amplifying her beauty and charisma so much.. that it became impossible for any living creature to actually conform to such incredibly high standards…. Then.. your mind was caught in a dilemma.. whether to stay in this illusion with that semi-perfect being.. wondering if it was all worth it.. or.. to get back to reality and start living your self-indulgent life again.. allegorically speaking.. it had to choose.. whether to wear the ring and jump into the fire.. or give it up and live a docile life again…

So… does that mean.. I’ll never get to see her again?

Well technically you can.. You still have your memories.. you can just remember whatever fragments there are left of her in your mind.. but the thing is.. Would You really want to??

1969

2010-04-24T22:49:00.000-07:00

““This is a story of boy meets girl, but you should know upfront... This is absolutely not a love story.”

“1969 was the year when I first fell in love. And I hate Bryan Adams for making a song out of it..”

“Hehe.. why so?”

“Well.. what the heck.. coz it reminded me of you..”

“ME?? Really?”

“Cummon.. don’t act all surprised and stuff.. it’s as if you never knew..”

“I swear I didn’t.. I mean if I would have.. then.. might be..”

“Might be what? Given my cloddish feelings some irrelevant consideration?? I mean why did you never think about me ‘that way’? Was I so extremely repugnant that I would never even stand a chance to be with you even in your thoughts? I mean come on.. You must have thought sometimes about me…. at least once? You must have considered me as an eligible candidate amongst the long list of contenders desperately vying to be your boyfriend?? Anyways.. does it even matter now.. ”

“Now don’t say that..”

“Then what do I say? That I still love you like I had when I was 15 or 16 years old, and still think about you every night before going to bed while staring at our ‘Class of ‘69 pic?”

“Please don’t get angry.. I didn’t mean to..”

“Don’t change the topic.. my anger is not the topic of discussion here.. We were talking about something else.. what was it? I forgot.. ”

“I asked you about who is the person you hate the most..”

“Ohh.. ya.. so you called me here after all these years just to ask that? Now that you know.. what do you plan to do about it? ”

“Nothing.. forget it.. sorry for bothering you.. I just thought that now that we finally live in the same city we should meet up sometime and chat a bit.. both of us lost our spouses this year.. I thought it would be a good way to.. you know.. share our feelings of loss..”

“Ooo… Since when did you start cultivating emotions and became so considerate?”

“And since when did you become so irate?? I mean I always remembered you as a jovial and spirited fella’.. Someone who always found a way to liven me up when I was down.. ”

“Ohh.. WOW!! So that’s all that I am to you? That’s all I ever was? Your special Idiot?? Well.. this just in.. I humbly renounce this coveted post.. I won’t be your idiot any more, it’s not my duty to make you smile..”

“Come on.. don’t say that.. you were and will always be my most special friend.. the fact that I am sitting with you here right now should tell you that..”

“I’m honoured!!”

“Please.. don’t be such a jerk.. Coz I know you are not.. and you suck at sarcasm.. anyways I called you here to tell you something..”

“I’m all ears.. Ma’am..”

“Hmmm… There’s a reason why I asked you about the person you hate the most.. I don’t know if what you said was true.. but the person I hate the most.. is myself..”

“What? Are you serious? I spent all my life trying to find someone who didn’t like you or love you.. and I found not one person fulfilling that criteria.. And now I find that person sitting right in front of me.. Lucky me!”

“Heh.. so typical of you to say that.. but seriously.. for the past few months.. I have been thinking a lot about my past life.. and the more I think.. the more I hate myself.. I mean I married thrice.. lost my kids custody.. could never be a good wife or mother.. and when I finally found someone I could feel safe with, I lost him coz fate can never see me truly happy.. all the mistakes I did, they are coming back to haunt me now.. I feel so totally at loss.. feel so utterly alone.”

“Hey.. wait a minute.. ain’t I supposed to be the ‘Sorry Soul’ here? It’s weird to hear such things from you…. In school, we would all yammer about how we all would end up all old, alone and unwanted.. while people like you would still enjoy the attention of every passerby and even remote acquaintances.. Infact.. even though I loved you like an imbecile.. I secretly hated you for the amount of attention and affection you got.. I hated you coz I was so invisible to you.. coz You made me feel so humiliated every single time when my fantasies didn’t manifest into reality.. when my little loving gestures went unnoticed.. when you failed to read my signals, my sighs, my deep breaths, and my eyes..”

“See.. even you hate me..”

“Wait.. let me finish first.. this world is not meant to run on your whims and fancies and so ain’t I.. You know why all three of your husbands left you? Lack of communication…. Wait.. let me finish dear… Even though you might have loved them or something.. I am pretty sure you wouldn’t have ever gone out of your way to express it explicitly.. whereas your hubbies would have surely done everything humanly possible to showcase their deep love for you…. Those little green catty eyes of yours, you can win over anybody with just a blink of them.. but you can’t answer every question through them.. you have to use your mouth sometimes and articulate an answer in so many words.. The world would be a much happier place if girls would learn to say ‘Yes’ a lot more to guys, and would also be a lot less confusing if girls smiled lesser and spoke clearly more often. You can’t just leave everything speculative and uncertain, and through that, leave people conjecturing if that expression meant ‘Yes’, ‘No’ or ‘Whateva.. I don’t care..’. It was this lack of warmth in your expressiveness which drove all these people away from you.. People feel insignificant when you don’t acknowledge their efforts.. didn’t anybody teach you that? ”

“I am a horrible person.. ain’t I?”

“Horrible? You are a Manic Pixie Dream Girl for Pete’s Sake! Call me a fool if you may.. but every time someone asked me about the girl of my dreams, my thoughts stopped at you.. I try to imagine girls with various combinations of desirable features, but it seems as if it all optimizes to create a figurine that resembles you horribly too exactly.. I would be the last person to call you ‘horrible’ in any respect.. although ‘Insensitive Scuzzbag’ would be more apt according to me..”

“Why do you have to be like this? I made you suffer didn’t I? Then why are you still sitting here trying to cheer me up?”

“Firstly, yes.. you did make me suffer.. I underwent a shitload of suffering coz of you.. You have no idea how difficult it is to be a boy.. you girls are so naturally adept at handling emotions professionally, but for us guys, having an unsaid emotion buried in our heart is like having to run a marathon with a steel spike stuck in your foot.. it’s like.. if you could wish for one thing in life.. it would be to get it out of there.. somehow.. and fast!!”

“I am sorry for it.. for all of it.. really.. for being so inconsiderate and so..”

“Hey.. don’t worry about it.. it’s OK now.. I mean now I don’t even care about what happened in the past.. and I was just kidding about the whole ‘Insensitive Scuzzbag’ thing.. don’t take it seriously..”

“You know what.. a wise man once said, there is always a little truth behind every "Just Kidding", a little emotion behind every "I Don't Care" and a little pain behind every "It's OK".. So don’t try to pull off that ‘I’m all fine and dandy’ act with me.. I can see right through it..”

“Oh.. my my.. You can? When were you gifted with this special ability? Coz back in ‘69 you didn’t seem to have even a fraction of it in you.. Could you never sense it when I would ask you for a coffee and you would reply “Umm.. no.. actually I have to get ready for this big date with this hot-jock I met last weekend.. What should I wear?”.. Wear a black mourning gown for all I care..”

“You remember him? Wow.. he turned out to be such a jerk.. I felt so stupid after the entire episode.. and yet.. I can never forget it.. can never forget him… can never forget the fact that I had the first kiss of my life that night.. and that too with whom.. sheesh..”

“You kissed him? But you said you didn’t kiss a guy in high school?”

“I.. lied..”

“Why? You could have told me.. didn’t you trust me?”

“I.. don’t.. know..”

“You know, that particular wise man also said that “There is always a little knowledge behind every "I Don't Know".. maybe you skipped that.. so don’t try to pull off that ‘I’m all confused and innocent’ act with me.. I can see right through it..”

“I don’t know.. it didn’t feel right.. to be absolutely blunt and frank.. I never felt so safe about telling things to you.. coz you would keep blurting your own intimate secrets to me.. I thought.. you know.. you might..”

“You know what.. thanks a lot for saying that.. but the truth is.. I’d never opened my heart so wide for anyone before you and I never have since then… I shared everything I had, just so that you could relate to that one thing which tells you in some divine sense that we are meant to be together forever.. coz all that it took me to believe so.. was your carefree smile…. And friendship is a two-way street.. you had a share in it too, why couldn’t you for once forget, that I was the one who reached out and asked for your friendship, togetherness and somewhere down the line.. even tacitly for your affection.. and love.. You should have…”

“Listen.. I am very sorry to cut you off in between.. but I think the sedatives are setting in..”

“Sedatives? What sedatives?”

“I have been trying to tell you all along.. I have been suffering from bouts of depression for the past few weeks.. and I decided to end it this morning.. and took an overdose of my sleep medication.. I was about to take a second batch, but while I was searching for them, I saw your envelope, and thought, I must meet you before going away forever.. you know, to relive those past times we shared.. and I am so happy I did.. so happy that I got to live my last moments with the person who knew me better than I myself did.. so happy that…….”

Then she fainted.. I, a retired, weak and old man approaching my sixties, had two choices then:

Either I rush her to the hospital, spend a major fraction of my pension money on her treatment, and relocate her with me and my family, only to see her sorry, sympathetic smiles every day, feel the warmth of a friend emanating from her but not that of a beloved (let’s face it, she never loved me and never would, do what I may), and maybe to see her find her soul-mate in yet another douchebag and let her drift away.. far away from my life.. once again.
Or, I hold her tightly in my arms till the moment I can savour the warmth of her body alongside mine.. let her live out her last moments pleasantly, in complete satisfaction, engrossed in a deep slumber which would soon engulf her forever, and keep her memory etched in my mind in the picture-perfect manner that she had chosen, to part with me and this world.

I didn’t have to give much thought to it, and nonchalantly chose the second option. She died in my arms that evening, and I can never forget that day. I had a picture taken of the two of us, (by a helpful kid) with her head resting on my shoulder, and I kept it next to our ‘Class of ‘69’ photograph. I had a formal burial organized for her, all three of her previous husbands came, along with their respective offsprings, and everyone was utterly surprised to see a stranger (apparently she hadn’t mentioned about me to anyone, all her life..) do so much for her. I plan to be buried alongside her, and have already mentioned it in my will.

I often look at those two pictures on my bedside, and think of the amazing journey my life encompassed in the meanwhile.. about the weird and bitter-sweet times that I spent with her.. in school and on the park bench that day.. it’s one of my favorite pastimes now and sometimes even keeps me awake all night.

I also wonder if what I did that day was the right thing to do. Obviously, in a sense it was selfish and immoral. I had a chance to save the life of a person who had trusted me in her last days, and I was bounded by all my religious obligations to acknowledge that belief by saving her life, even if it cost me heftily, both financially and emotionally. I know whichever way I try to defend it, I had sinned, and a part of me knows that pretty well. But, it was she who had chosen to end her misery that day, and in a way, it also ended mine with hers.. coz now I no longer have to check the passenger list on a flight to see if her name is there, so that I can go and sit beside her, I no longer have to buy the latest directories to see if her number is listed there, I no longer have to check my mailbox to see if she had replied to any of my mails, and most importantly, I don’t have to check the obituary columns every day, to check if she had died an untimely and/or unloved death…

Some people live out their lives without really knowing what the word ‘pain’ truly means.. and if she wanted a peaceful exit then I had no right to deny it.. I had always succumbed to all her whims and fancies all my life, how could I not do so in her last moments?? End of story…..

E.T. @ E.T.

2010-04-01T11:55:00.000-07:00

We at Entertainment Today have always reported extraordinary events occurring in the outside world to you. But today something extraordinary happened right inside our office! Reportedly, at about 10.45 a.m. (time changed), a woman (gender changed) barged into our office claiming to be an Extra-terrestrial or an Alien, as known colloquially, and demanded to be interviewed by us.

Here are excerpts from the extraordinary interview that ensued:

ET: Hello, Please give a brief description about yourself..

ET(allegedly): Hi, my name is Natassha D’sousa (name changed) and I am a Milkman (profession changed) at Sri Bhargava Institute of Technology (college changed), Nuamundi (place changed)..

(We are really trying to keep his identity under wraps you see..)

ET: So you claim to be an Extra Terrestrial, or I should say.. an Alien?

ET: Please.. Don’t use that A-word.. Even an Indian in USA is an alien.. what’s so special about that.. Being an Extra Terrestrial?? Yes.. that’s a special feeling..

ET: So… what made you think, or rather believe that you are an ET?

ET: Well.. I saw this TED video on my laptop.. which talks about the baffling phenomena at work that facilitate the process of creative genius, and it stressed upon a surreal, indistinguishable voice, which tells us what to do. When people listen to that voice and follow it word to word, they are automatically branded as Genius. I also heard such a voice and thought it’s best to inform the public through a respectable and highly credible medium such as yours (éclat changed).

ET: So what do these voices sound like? Where do they come from? What do they tell you?

ET: Well.. to tell the truth they are as indistinguishable as the multiple questions you are simultaneously firing at me right now and if I had been a lesser mortal, I would have been entirely discombobulated.. but the fact that I am not, serves as a proof that I am indeed a superior form of existence (various profanities deleted). Coming to your questions, the voices are like radio signals, invisible yet clear enough to be discernable. And it’s quite obvious they are transmitted by an alien ship hovering above our earth… What they tell me.. is.. well.. a complex issue to address..

ET: Could you please elucidate for our readers convenience?

ET: Yeah sure.. that’s why I’ve come here.. I only said that to catch some breath.. see.. it all started three nights ago…

Now, before anything, let me tell you.. I am a thoughtful guy by nature, but I do all my thinking during the day. Nothing should interfere with my beauty sleep and hence I am generally a sound sleeper, without any family history of insomnia or somnambulism etc. But that night I just couldn’t sleep.. it was as if my mind was in overdrive mode and was being flooded with infinite quantities of information coming from an unknown source. I tried very hard to fight it and get back to sleep but I just couldn’t.. I just couldn’t! Hence I woke up, took a chair and sat in the verandah. There I sat motionless for three days and three nights, without as much as a bathroom break, and finally established contact with the supernal forces of nature.

ET: How are you so sure that it was from aliens and not just a figment of your imagination?

ET: Once again.. alien is a pejorative term and I wouldn’t like you to use it. Anyways, earlier I was myself confused as to what are those strange voices inside my head and tried to fathom them.. but they were just random words and basically..

ET: (interrupting) What were those random words? What did they say?

ET: Well.. random things.. no particular theme or string of thoughts.. just very random stuff like..

ET: (interrupting) Like Mission to Mars? 2001: A Space Odyssey? Planet of the Apes?

ET: You forgot War of the Worlds.. but yes it was a forgettable movie anyways.. (he didn’t really say that.. but you know.. its Entertainment Today after all..). Well nothing like that.. the voices just kept answering whatever questions were popping up in my mind for the entire three day period.. (long pause) you know random questions.. about life, faith.. love… family… you know.. India.. life.. oh I just said that.. sorry.. please edit that out.. okay? And you know that kinda’ stuff.. questions that bother us middle class people (class changed).

ET: So what were the questions that it answered? Could you cite a few?

ET: I knew you would ask that and hence I had an ace up my sleeve.. the voices answered all my questions.. ALL.. just the fact that they kept me busy for three long days should tell you that.. and they empowered me to answer any question that any normal human being could possibly ask. So here’s my ace.. why don’t you or any of your listeners.. (mild interruptions).. oh this is not being broadcast live? Oh.. sorry sorry.. please edit that part too.. so.. why don’t we switch places and I become the interviewee and you become the interviewer and ask me any question you want.. and I’ll answer it (triumphant smile)

(mild interruption).. oh is it? We are already following those roles.. really sorry.. please edit that entire segment.. three days is a long time you know.. causes mental fatigue and all.. anyways.. you ask any question and I will answer.. and you studio people can participate too.. it’s an open offer..

ET Team: Sir, what is the purpose of life?

(brief pause)

ET: We have so many entrance exams in our country.. even I failed (accomplishment changed) one to become a part of my college.. Life is also an entrance exam to determine who gets to achieve supreme enlightenment..

ET Team: Can you define ‘Supreme Enlightenment’ more intricately? And what is the purpose of achieving it?

ET: Well supreme enlightenment is the state when all your questions are answered and there is nothing left in life for you to ponder upon. Life, which is full of struggles, is the test that determines who deserves to get the gift of enlightenment. The thing is… you need to impress the Extra-Terrestrials by showing them you have a lot of perseverance and grit and are a respectable candidate to be endowed with such an alarming quantity of knowledge and wisdom. All these little difficulties in life that you face everyday are like the individual questions in an exam, each contributing towards determining whether you clear the exam or not. See the basic reason why you need such a lot of grit to be gifted that knowledge is because the entire purpose of being endowed with it, is that you can convey it to ordinary, non-gifted folk. And you need a lot of grit for that coz when you tell the lesser humans, the startling facts of life, they would ridicule you, chide you, jibe you and tirade you… but when they understand what you said was the ultimate truth, they would worship you. Just like Buddha… the only difference is that he attained his enlightenment under a banyan tree.. I attained mine in a balcony..

ET Team: So you mean to say this exclusive knowledge is contained by the Extra-terrestrials and passed on to some very special people so that they can become prophets one day?

ET: Absolutely.. and thanks for putting my verbose answer in a nutshell..

ET Team: So give us some examples of that hallowed and precious knowledge.. give an answer to say.. you know.. Why is there so much suffering in the world?

ET: I already answered that.. suffering is a part of the entrance test..

ET Team: (interrupting) Yaya.. got that.. tell me why do people fall in love when they know it would remain unrequited?

ET: People don’t fall in love.. nobody can fall in love (makes weird face).. falling is an instantaneous activity.. happens in a snap.. like this (snaps fingers).. love doesn’t.. I mean its love.. not 2-minute noodles ki button dabaya aur ho gaya.. its generally fondness that people mistake as love at first sight when they meet someone affable.. the movies and songs and greeting card companies are to be blamed for creating this disillusionment in our heads.. and making us trigger-happy when it comes to labeling any sort of feeling as ‘love’… but the fact remains that love takes time and it is often a conscious decision.. there is always a return path..

ET Team: Okay fine.. “Love Guruji”.. you said you asked about India too? So tell me.. when would India become a superpower?

ET: India is already a superpower.. look at the number of MNCs’ who have established their offices here. Undoubtedly, this process has brought in a lot of revenue in our country, but now it’s time to use this revenue to create our own.. it’s time to create an era where indigenous multinationals are spawned.. after all, a country is not branded a superpower based upon the number of MNCs’ whose work it outsources.. A superpower is one which has many home-grown businesses which turn into MNCs’ one day…

…And that is the biggest problem here.. Lack of Entrepreneurship.. and I am not talking about your neighborhood tea-stall or Convenience stores.. they are entrepreneurs in their own right but not the ones I am talking about.. India has lots of budding talent.. it’s just not given the right impetus to grow or the environment to incubate.. it’s like.. what do you need to convert a 20 Rs. Per liter milk into a 100 Rs. Per kg Curd? Just three things.. half a teaspoon of curd, the right temperature and some time. Similarly if the government shells out a little curd to every bowl of milk in India, gives it sufficient time to incubate in the right environment.. it will produce an uncountable quantity of curd to continue the cycle…

…But our government has been doing that isn’t it? Encouraging entrepreneurs through National Entrepreneur Development Cells? But there’s a problem there.. what happens if you add more than the required quantity of curd in the milk? It will go sour, become unpalatable and lose its value. That is exactly the problem with our government.. when they give out funds.. they do so in extremely large quantities.. and the budding entrepreneurs are so ambitious that they want to utilize all the money at once and get a break-even in the shortest possible time. They want to establish multi-million businesses overnight.. but just like you can’t take nine women and create an offspring in a month.. you can’t create a successful business overnight.. it takes time and it also needs careful monitoring of fund allocation..

ET Team: Okay one final question and that would settle it.. answer the most universal and timeless question of all.. why did God, if there is such a thing, create this world?

ET: Well firstly, God very much exists.. You think Newton’s Three laws run this Universe?? Please…Gimme a break… (shuffles in his seat) He was the one who created the Extra-terrestrials and to wit, we humans are not Nature’s finest creations, they are…

…And to answer your other question, I think… no wait... I believe.. please edit out that ‘I think’ part.. I believe that someone as divine as God would never create something so chaotic and repugnant as this world.. it’s obviously the work of some lowly, demented creature…. (stares blankly into space) God didn’t create us.. he couldn’t have..

ET Team: So who did it? Aliens??

ET: Once again that word.. anyways I pardon that.. Yes.. your so called ‘Aliens’ are the creators..

ET Team: Why the heck would they do such a thing? What would they get out of it?

ET: I would answer your question with another question.. Why do we create Rube Goldberg machines? What is the inherent joy we get from creating something complex and yet so futile? It’s all about getting a high and proving your expertise at creating something.. isn’t it? It’s all just a way of saying that “I am above you losers.. I am creative and I created such a complicated machine that you couldn’t even imagine.. and just to rub it in.. I made it completely useless.. haha!”. Similarly.. Our world is just another pretext to satisfy some bloated extra-terrestrial ego.

ET Head: Well.. It does seem that you have certainly had some divine intervention in you inherent ideals, but why did you turn up for this interview? Do you want media attention?

ET: No.. not at all.. I don’t want to get any media attention and strictly request you to keep my identity under wraps (gestures with a finger on her lips).. my aim behind this extraordinary* interview was most noble.. just wanted to spread the word.. I don’t want any popularity by virtue of media coverage.. No Sirrr (waves both hands).. Actually the problem is that when you start getting a lot of Media attention, you are no longer a heart or a soul.. you are just a face that speaks.. And I certainly don’t have a face like this to deserve so much media focus (takes out photograph of KRK ; published below)

*(he actually used the word)

*****Inspired from actual events

The Necklace

2010-02-26T04:14:00.001-08:00

This is not going to be a story, article, poem, speech, excerpt or any of the other literary contrivances that this blog has attained the notoriety of nurturing. Instead for once, it’s going to be more like other ‘normal’ blogs, where people express their thoughts and emotions in a very direct manner and not enveloped within morally upright and righteous tales conjured up for the purpose of creating the aberration of a scholarly delivery. Infact, the theme of the following meandering string of words is going to be simple..

“How to live the life that awaits us after we graduate”

I know it’s a very hackneyed topic and many a bloggers blog about it, year-after-quotidian-year, by getting all worked up and nostalgic about the fact that they are about to leave the place they spent four unforgettable years in. Well don’t worry.. it’s gonna be nothing like that.. especially because it comes from no one else but me.

The round of self-appraisal apart, the reason I emphasize the uniqueness of this post by virtue of my ingenuity, is because it’s not going to have any of the standard elements of an about-to-leave-college-approaching-a-delayed-puberty-blog... viz.

Cheesy quotations from novels and movies (inarguably read & seen during this period)
Mention of crappy little insignificant incidents
Use of ‘hip’ words, smiles’ or textese in an attempt to connect with the audience
Sense of gratitude towards the four year period of seclusion/reclusion
And.. finally.. Nostalgia..

The world is a brutal place (No I haven’t faced its full brunt yet, but whatever little I have, has always pointed to this conclusion). Now when was the last time you heard that? Quite often, if I consider that you belong to the class of first generation engineers in your family and I presume there are a lot of those, especially because, before the IT boom facilitated the creation of engineering colleges in even the remotest of locations, engineering was considered to be a highly technical and specialized course. But the great rule of democracy didn’t spare this walk of life and now almost everybody can say that they are the proud owners.. oops.. parents/uncles/aunts/childhood neighbors of an engineer from an obscure engineering college (Anyways, what’s in a name, it’s the pay-packet that you receive at the end of the four years which matters, isn’t it?).

So after digressing enough from the original topic as your patient (sometimes loyal) readership would allow, let me get back on track. The world is a brutal place. What does this mean? It’s nothing like the idyllic and serene setting of your college. And to further impart lucidity to the statement, lets break it up into bullet points..

The world doesn’t give a damn about what you think.
The world doesn’t give a damn about your knowledge.
The world doesn’t give a damn about what you dream.
The world just doesn’t give a damn. Period.

Most people are used to being coaxed, apologized to, and basically getting things done pretty much the way they want them to be done. Which explains the frequent mess strikes, the rallies for taps that run dry, the languid daily routines, et al. It’s not entirely wrong to go about your own way, after all it incubates ‘leadership skills’ inside us, something we can proudly flaunt while tearing apart our own friends in GDs’ for a company. The moderator is quite impressed by the obvious ‘I’m-the-leader-of-my-pack’ attitude, isn’t it? Well, such is the widespread acceptance of this misconception that it has attained a hallowed state of being-obviously-wrong-but-presumed-to be-correct by popular opinion. And if at any instance you do acknowledge this fact, then scroll up a few lines and refresh your memory as to how much the world cares about you..

Done?

Great. Let’s move on.

The reason why the HR heads are impressed is not because of the supposed tenacity and grit and valor shown while framing up inconsequential sentences in a bid to be proven the most outspoken and enlightened amongst the group, but what they love is seeing a brutal dog-fight (which is actually banned in most countries.. Hah!), an earnest representation of the environment they themselves thrive in. The dog with the most brutal bite and highest moral flexibility is picked up by the dog pound. The entire point of this exceedingly verbose description of the brutal world was to tactfully state (read: so as to appear entirely in context with) the following point:

“The set of morals which we have followed all our lives, those which were so tenderly passed onto us by our loving parents, count for zilch in the outside world”

Oh I know what you must be saying in your heads.. this is such a pessimistic post, why am I even reading this.. well to tell you the truth, there were many a college lectures which you could have easily bunked without any repercussions, but yet you didn’t, for some unfathomable reason. Think of that unfathomable reason for an instance and carry on reading. I promise you will get your due…

Anyways, getting to the point stated above, that if our innate morals count for zilch, then what should be our code of conduct? We can’t behave like uncouth savages can we? So there is a need for a new set of carefully tweaked morals that make us adept at handling this brutal world. Sometimes need is the mother of invention. And sometimes there comes so powerful an invention, that it creates a need for itself to be adopted (as an example of which, you need not think beyond the mystical iPod). Whichever is the case here, you are the best judge of it. I won’t intervene. Seriously.

And without further ado, possibly causing anticipation (maybe even agony) here’s the Necklace. (Necklace?? It’s actually a poetic expression you see.. pearls of wisdom are strung onto a string of sentences.. anyways forget that..). I’d like to call it the three-Bs’.

Believe in coincidences:

Einstein said “God doesn’t throw dice”. What he meant was nothing in this Universe is left to chance. Now just like Darth Vader said that every person has a bright side and a dark side, this overtly simplistic statement can be canonized into two connotations as well.

Everything’s predestined. Your life has been scripted by some unknown-all-knowing-force and you can’t change it. You just need to play your part as best as you can and then one fateful day, die.
If you plan carefully enough, and give the subject matter enough sincere thought, you can actually put up a spectacular fireworks display with the dampest of squibs.

That apart, the best thing you can do is to believe in coincidences. Illogical, irrational, unpredictable coincidences. Whenever something unexpected happens, think of it as an outcome of some mystical coincidence. Coincidence can be best defined, as the occurrence of two mutually conjoined events you hadn’t anticipated. Actuarial purists who swear by the laws of probability would argue that the number theory takes every possibility into consideration, hence ruling out any anomalies such as a ‘coincidence’. To further drive the point home, their predictions are backed by fundamental mathematics. Well, all I can say is, mathematically, one plus one equals two. It’s an irrefutable law of nature. Put one apple beside another apple and you have two apples. But put one apple beside an orange, and you have a fruit salad…

Not logical, isn’t it? Ditto for life.

Be the idiot:

Some wise guy once said “Education is learning what you didn't even know you didn't know”.

Meaning?? What our infinite hours of education have given us is only material knowledge. You can put it down in black and white (just like most teachers do so effectively via class-notes) and transfer it through this particular media only (once again like most of our teachers). But can you transfer that bit of ‘education’ to a layman or an eight year old without the aid of any tangible media. Can you utilize figments of your imagination to actually transfer an idea from one head to another? If yes, skip to the next ‘B’, and if not, you are no more educated than the man for whom the alphabet ‘A’ is just a queer assembly of three sticks. Quite a bitter pill to swallow ain’t it? That’s why the best thing to do is to swallow it immediately. The longer you keep rolling it around in your mouth, the greater the bitterness that would impinge your tongue.

Hence in many situations in life, it’s imperative to be the idiot (it’s actually harder and more rewarding than it sounds). You may feel being an idiot is the easiest job in the world. But beware, ‘idiot’ here doesn’t mean throwing your arms up with complete disregard for education. It’s all about highly selective idiocy.

Suppose, you are completely oblivious about say.. Soccer. And you need to know about it for something important and deterministic. So you approach any self-professed soccer fanatic and chat him up. Somewhere in the conversation you throw up a highly contentious and debatable question like “Who was the greatest soccer player of all time? ”

(Now a bit of advice. This practice gives maximum benefits when carried out in a group of 3-4 people sharing a common interest, but who are at complete loggerheads with one another.)

Everyone would have their own opinion, and you have your own (preferably the most ostentatious and outlandish one). Everyone would ridicule your choice and try to prove theirs to be better than yours. That’s where being the complete and absolute idiot, and also making it obvious to others, helps so much. They would all give out statistics, achievements, awards etc. earned by their heroes to prove themselves to be above you, and in a few minutes, you would be inundated with information which would have taken you hours to gather, if you had opted to be the ‘smarty-pants’ instead.

As a fact, this is the quickest way to learn about anything. Be an idiot in front of a group of people knowledgeable enough in a particular field, and argue until they are raring to punch you in the face.

Plus, it’s mutually beneficial for everyone. You’re happy about the fact you collected the data expeditiously. The others would satisfy their bloated egos by thinking they bashed up an idiot real good.

Everybody gets the largest piece of the cake. Genius…

Be honest with your parents:

God (however omnipresent he’s supposed to be) couldn’t be everywhere, hence he created Mothers. Mothers had certain complicated issues in their heads. So He created Fathers to sort them out. And sometimes, when mothers and fathers were together in congenial conditions, they created us. And hence, they passed a little piece of Gods’ purpose of creation onto us. But it’s human nature to forget. We conveniently forgot we were created for a purpose. And squandered away our existence in pursuit of illusive objects of status like a girl/boyfriend (or both.. whatever turns you on), a dream job, bank balance, and not to forget the most illusive of them all.. happiness!

“Oh this is just a load of bollocks.. who doesn’t want happiness in life and what’s wrong in being happy” you say? I’ll tell you.

Picture this: You get a ‘dream’ job from campus. You work real hard. Get a raise. And consequentially the love of the person you admired. You rent a home. And a car. You marry. You are (supposedly) happy but not satisfied.

Now picture this: You screwed up at work. You are fired. Your boss won’t take you back. Neither your spouse. Nor your friends. Your cars’ mortgage is too much to pay and you sell your apartment off as compensation. Helpless and exasperated you call your parents. They ask about your health, your job, what have you been eating, when would you be visiting, etc. You blatantly lie by saying you have taken a week off just so that you can be with them. Oblivious to the truth, they tidy up your childhood room, prepare plans for the magical week ahead, call in relatives from all corners. You show up with a suitcase and a laptop and say you have quit your job (obviously, which lunatic can fire the embodiment of sheer genius that is you). You cry in front of them. They cancel their own plans. Get you out of it. And just like they taught you how to walk so many years back, they get you back on your feet so that you can go far away to create a lucrative bubble for yourself once again. All they ask from you, their only unjust demand from you in return for all this is: “Whatever you do, please stay happy.”

What I am emphasizing here is, how much our sustenance, our non-blood relationships, our bank-balance and yes, not to forget, how much our happiness depends upon whether we have a job or not. All these things we pursued for so long can completely vanish the moment we are sacked. And maybe a lot of us realize this, which is actually the driving force behind people working their butts off at work so much. Come to think of it, how much is it worth? Is this acquired happiness more valuable than the inherent sense of satisfaction obtained by the assurance that whatever we do, however badly we screw up, there are at least two people who earnestly believe in us and are always there for us? Those two people happen to be our parents.

Lie to them as much as you want. You’ll reap what you sow.

That’s pretty much it. Accept it, denounce it or report abuse against it. Hardly matters. It’s entirely at your discretion. But, don’t just forget so easily about that brutish, and nauseous feeling that overcame you while you were reading it.

Love Story 2020

2009-11-20T20:57:00.001-08:00

“Cold feet. I think that’s what they are called. And right now.. I have two of those. I’m sorry.. I just can’t do this. Bye..”

I wrote these words on the back of an envelope and slid it under her door. And then I ran away. Where? Why? I couldn’t have missed the final match of the series.. could I? I had booked my tickets over the net and cut the payment of the light-man instead. That explains why no one saw me fleeing from the scene of the marriage. She isn’t my first love.. Cricket is.. coz, I dunno why.. she gets kinda’ boring sometimes.. but Cricket nevverrr does..

So like I am sitting here in my club-house seat like I had always dreamt of.. Plush upholstery, spectacular view, great music, conditioned air, cheerleaders dancing a few feet from me, another spectacular view, et. aliae. Till now, I had only watched matches seated in the back alleys. I was actually living my dream today!

All’s set and the match begins. First ball.. batsman flicks it to his leg and mid-on gets hold of it with a brilliant dive, but can’t save a run from being taken. The entire club house nods in acknowledgement of the outstanding effort and some even clap.

Next delivery, ball swings away, a hit and a miss.. another round of “Awww”s and “Ooooh”s.

Next delivery, the ball swings back in and that’s all I can see before my phone begins to ring and I have to frantically search my pockets so as to turn it off. One guy points to a little sign that says “Please switch off your mobiles. Thank you.”

I am rather flustered and almost blushing with embarrassment when I notice that the entire crowd is outraged and infuriated with something. That inswinger had wrapped the batsman on his pads and he was given out LBW. Shit! Coz of my stupid phone I missed the first wicket. “Who the heck was it”, I thought, and saw that she was calling. I turned my mobile off and looked at the scoreboard with a touch of dismay.

1/1.. Why does that sound familiar? Oh ya.. I remember, it’s her birth date.. the 1st of Jan. the day (or was it night) when I had ran into her at Toscas’ and met her for the first time..

Anyways.. What a silly coincidence.. she calls and just then, a wicket falls.. maybe that’s why they make you switch off your phones in here.

The captain decided that he wanted to utilize the powerplays to the hilt, and sent a pinch-hitter up the order. The guy hits a four the first delivery, a six on the other and then takes a single to retain strike.

12/1.. The second time we met.. I was giving a guitar demo at a music store and she was out there buying ‘Coldplay’. She loved my voice, took my number and autograph on the CD- “A Rush of Blood To The Head”. Oh Boy! It sure was!

The pinch-hitter resumes, it’s an outswinger, runs it down to third-man, takes a single. The other opener is a seasoned campaigner. He understands that the pitch has some bite in it and plays with considerable amount of caution. He pushes and prods for the next three deliveries and on the fourth, plays it with soft hands and takes a quick single. The pinch-hitter on the other end has been patient long enough, he throws caution to the winds and heaves the ball miles into the sky. The keeper gloves it, and the scoreboard reads:

14/2.. Oh.. my.. god.. Valentine’s Day.. The day she had called me up and said she was quitting her job. Now that would’ve been an absolute tragedy.. coz as hard as I find to admit it, she gets a heavier pay-packet than I do.. way heavier.. I ran to her office.. called her down, took her to the nearest cafe.. tried to talk her out of it.. but she wouldn’t budge. She kept saying “It’s just too demeaning a job for me answering stupid calls all day..” Not knowing what to do, I just picked up the guitar hanging on the wall behind her, and sang “The Scientist” for her.. and ending on “You don't know how lovely you are..” I proposed to her.. she agreed.. and I understood, she wasn’t quitting..

The batsmen changed ends, another pinch-hitter sent, a four was struck, another rash shot and caught at third man.

18/3.. the day I met her parents over dinner.. the day they shunned me from ever laying a foot in their house until I got a ‘safe’ job. The day she almost cut her wrist.. I mean she did, but not completely.. and I had to run half a mile carrying that bleeding angel in my arms..

Play resumes… A stunning Yorker.. another wicket..

18/4.. after working for a month as an attendant at a music store I showed her parents my first paycheck. And they agreed. Maybe it was or was it not.. I don’t exactly remember.. but it was pretty close to being labeled as the happiest day of my life...

The captain walks out.. carefully examines the pitch, makes a few marks and he is set. Defends the first, and takes a single at the second delivery. The umpire raises his arm half way along his side. It was a No-Ball. Free Hit. The crowd goes berserk. The batsman makes room and gives the ball a mighty thwack! FOUR!!

But a free hit is like a heady shot of vodka.. it doesn’t come without a hangover. He tries his luck once again, but this time, caught at mid-wicket.

24/5.. The day I found out about her previous affair.. a very serious previous affair.. the day I almost regretted meeting her..

The captain is facing now. Another veteran at the other end. They strategize and decide to play safe. Keep running it down to the third man or into the gaps and take singles on each delivery of the over. The last delivery.. veteran tries to steer it down to the third man.. gets a slight nick.. keeper lunges forward and takes a good low catch.

29/6.. the day we went to get our engagement rings.. and had a huge fight over the size of the diamond she wanted on hers.. the fight was huge enough to almost make the entire point of buying the rings, pointless. Insecurities were revealed, money matters tossed up, pasts unearthed, and things like “just coz you earn more doesn’t mean you have to show it off by buying a costlier ring for me” were said.

I was almost in tears now. I took out my phone and switched it on. It bleeped 12 times as numerous messages flooded my inbox and were waiting there to be read. I opened the images folder and checked the date when we had got engaged.

31st July.

Of all the events that had occurred all through the year, this was one you could never miss. 29/6 was what the score board read and my heart was pounding so hard now, that it almost threatened to break my rib cage apart and leap out of my chest. The bowler bowled a full-toss and the batsman hit it from absolutely the sweetest part of his bat. The sound almost sent me into a trance and I thought.. “Hah! 33/6.. their aint’ no date like that, is it!”

That was when I saw, that the sweeper cover had covered an unbelievable amount of distance and had actually stopped the ball from crossing over. And then seeing the batsmen crossing over for the third, he cannoned the ball to the wicketkeeper who effortlessly collected it and clipped off the bails in one smooth, swinging motion. It was obvious the batsman was short of his ground and hence the 3rd umpire was beckoned, to decide whether the ball had crossed the boundary or not. The replays showed.. it didn’t. The fielder had made a clean stop. The score now.. was

This was going off limits.. I lost all my senses and hollered “BLOODY HELL!” and seething with outrage, I kicked the chair in front of me real hard. An old man was occupying it and he fell down by the force of the impact. I didn’t know it then, but he was actually the CEO of the firm organizing the series. People ran in from all corners to help him get up, and two guards rushed and grabbed me by the scruff of my neck. The entire box was looking at me in horror, and one portly figure dressed in a suit walked up to me and asked.. “Do you have the faintest clue who this honorable Gentleman is?”

I shot back: “He might have pimped your mom but that’s all I care ‘bout him!” and impulsively or I don’t know why, but I spat on his face.

That was it. The tempers that were already flaring because of the imbecilic performance of our team, got incensed and almost everyone present there, without exception, tried me out as a kicking or punching bag. I had absolutely no idea as to how long they kept kicking me, although I do remember.. that my phone was lying an arm’s length away from me, and amidst those hovering legs and ankles, I could see her name flashing on its screen.

Now here’s a slice of life for all of you who have never been through a public beating, or never had any form of brain-numbing pain inflicted upon you.. Initially, the pain increases, then it peaks, and just when it reaches a point where you feel that every single blood vessel in your body is gonna’ burst open, you suddenly rise above the pain.. all these mundane things that we scurry after in life lose their importance, and only the realization of your real pain remains..

I had always dreamt of becoming a cricketer one day. I had heckled my parents to get me into cricket coaching since I was about eight years old. I always cursed them for not providing me with premium sporting gear. I had never understood the fact that they were going through a severe crunch back then and just so that they could arrange my school and coaching fee, they had aborted my would’ve-been-brother. I could never achieve my dream. I had decided as a kid, I would never forgive them for it. I kept punishing people for it all my life. Actually… I was never very good at cricket. But there was one thing that I was indeed good at.. and that was always thinking ‘I’, ‘I’, ‘I’ and ‘I’. Never ‘You’, ‘They’, ‘Us’, ‘He’ or ‘She’. Always ‘I’ is what comes to my mind the instant I wake up in the morning. And all because of this, maybe I deserved what had happened to me today. But did She??

That was when I realized that there was another thing which I was good at… and that was keeping her happy by singing her favorite songs for her… Maybe from now on, I should stick to doing the things I am better at, than worrying about those which I’ve no control over.

A few minutes after everyone had settled down, I picked up my phone and texted her “Please wait for me… I’m coming as fast as I can..”

Albert Pinto ko Gussa kyon aata hai?

2009-11-08T11:49:00.000-08:00

This is the story of a man.. a man who swam 43 kms to save his life.. and then give it all away..

***

He wasn’t a man made for India. But then, he was exactly the kind of man made for India. You know, how all these Indians in the US, who have studied there, worked there, earned there, lived there.. get all nostalgic one day after hearing Rehaman’s poignant voice urging them “Ye jo daess hai tera.. Tujhe hai pukara..” and decide to return to India?? Now they are Indians, rest assured, but they have girlfriends, have dates and have sex, just like Americans do.. they eat, they sleep and they clean their shit, just like Americans do.. they laugh, they talk and they swear, just like Americans do.. they think, they read and they jibe at India.. just like Americans do.

They are aware of India: a land overrun by poverty and the rampant political malice billowing each passing day, the labyrinthine alleys infested with these disease ridden degenerates and maniacal terrorists, the swarthy local population which works longer hours for lesser, almost measly wages in order to eke out a living, and the ‘upper class’ whose every waking moment and conceited effort is aimed at proving themselves to be ‘different’ from the ‘others’.

But, they also know the truth of the land: the mystic natural beauty, the reverence and spirituality, the innate family values, the docile and virgin women, the higher intellect and lesser vanities, the shoddier but more value-for-money movies, the ebullient religious festivities, the docile and virgin women, the innate family values, and the virgin women.. all of it, allures them, tugging the invisible umbilical cord stretched across the seven seas, by which they are still attached to their motherlands…

They are warmly welcomed back and receive a hero’s reception… their families are exultant… they are flooded with marriage proposals, and are inevitably married in plush banquet halls of some overpriced hotel. Slowly, they start realizing the actual truth about the land: Why the things that they treated with such contempt were the prized possessions of the people, and why the enigmatic idiosyncrasies that aroused such intimacy, were the bane of the land.. They realize that the people, consisting the swarthy middle class, secretly take pride in the surging population of beggars and hawkers, as by dishing out an insignificant sum of money as alms, they give them a chance to flaunt their mercy and altruism.. they secretly admire their unscrupulous politicians, marveling at their edacity and how they convolute the law and loot the masses.. they look at the lepers and scurrilous goons and thank God that at least their children are not like them, and throughout their lives, they strive to be one amongst the ‘upper class’ and if not them, at least the ‘upper middle class’. If they indeed manage to do so, all the envy they had for their superiors, manifests itself in the form of supercilious contempt for the hoi polloi, a flock, which they were once a part of..

The natural beauty they had so deeply admired turns out to be blatantly polluted, the spirituality turns out to be a great big sham, contrived for the sole purpose of instigating communal violence with utmost convenience, the innate family values and respect for the elderly lasts only till they are financially productive, and disappears completely the day they retire, and are then onwards treated like defunct furniture, the docile women are the real miscreants who create rifts and rows amongst the kins and pester their husbands who are unaware of the diabolical schemes cooking up in their heads, the low-on-vanity people actually turn out to be prize idiots, usually the average gullible voter, still harping the image of the ‘Golden Bird’ in their hearts, the movies happen to be just a mechanization that captures the inherent fantasies of the divested, which in turn runs the biggest and most profitable industry of the world, which in turn facilitates and finances the underworld which in turn produces more of the militants that rampage this land.. and the ebullient festivities, are a time when the tired and downtrodden can forget all the turd that blotches their lives and take the time off to cleanse it under a deluge of hooch...

He experienced the same resounding truth and inevitably felt like a stranger in his own land. He tried to stick it out, but in the end frustration got better of him.. and one fine morning, while brushing his teeth, he looked into the mirror and repeatedly spat on it, on his own reflection, and then, he did what every celebrated coward does.. he ran away.. he thought of taking an exile and settling down in the mighty Himalayas, just like the countless sages shown on the ‘Incredible India!’ Booklets.. he went upto the not-so-mighty Shivaliks and realized that he had underestimated the biting cold. Then, devoid of money and any aim in life, he travelled south.. no, not to the Andamans.. rather to Haridwar, Banaras, Gaya, onwards to calcutta.. he lived like a hermit.. came in contact with various ‘learned’ people and not-so-learned people along his meandering journey and carried on his meaningless life by doing odd jobs on the Ghats of Ganges. After a significant number of years, he came back as ‘Miracle Baba’: a Tall, fair, stone faced, English speaking, rosary draping man, who always had a limerick or a quip ready as an answer for any question of infinite complexity..

He would fast for people he didn’t know, eat burning coals, break glass with his genitalia, pour red ants into his eyes and cover them with mud.. you name it and he would do it.. he was a man seemingly without any fear, or any religious affiliations (not intended to mean that the latter gives rise to the former, just a mere remark, actually) and the most amazing thing about it, was that he did all of it, for public welfare.. no particular cause or effect as such.. he would just get up, let in his followers one-by-one, listen patiently to their grievances, collect his paraphernalia, and get on with his mind boggling gimmicks.. He even offered his services via SMS and if you cared to give him a ring, you would be greeted with Mukeshs’ plaintive voice inquiring “Duniya banane waale, kya tere mann me samayi.. Kahaeko duniya banayi??” (O creator of this world.. whatever came over your mind.. Why the heck did you create this world..)

The media loved him, and People worshipped him, because strangely, his apparent thaumaturgy allayed the sufferings of his woe-stricken followers..

He was all over the place.. not to say that he was omnipresent.. but some secretly believed that he was omnipotent..

One fine day, after a flood had struck an obscure village in the country, a follower came running up to him and said the people in his village were beckoning him during their last hours, as an overwhelming number of crocodiles had infested the water that had deluged their village. People were being sucked in by the rampant stream and not even their remains could be recovered due to the fear of these crocs.

He rose, told his guy to arrange an emergency helicopter, got on it, and after reaching the village got off on top of a water tank. Then he proclaimed “My words may sound queer.. but I do not see any crocodiles here.. all I can see.. is water.. pure and clear.. and to you it may so appear.. that the crocs consumed your near and dear.. but actually.. what ate them up, was their inherent fear..”

And then, just to prove his point, he nonchalantly jumped into the water and slowly circled the entire village.. in full knowledge of the fact, that his death was trailing him wherever he went..

But miracles of miracles.. he swam in there for about four hours and came out untouched. Then, standing on the top of that water tank, he spoke..

“Whatever we have is given by god.. nothing is absolutely ours.. it’s only in our minds that we make boundaries, partitions… impressions of big and small, rich and poor, great and lowly…. mine and yours.. And these boundaries, partitions and wonted impressions are what rule the lives of us Indians, day in and day out… India is a tumultuous land gingerly balanced upon the presence of two kinds of people: the greedy rich and the gullible poor. If any one of them fizzes out, the balance would be disturbed, and hence the policies and contrivances of our government are crafted with the sole intention of forever maintaining this delicate balance. But what if the rich realize their wrongdoings and the suffering their endless oppression causes? Or if the poor realize their fundamental rights and actually demand them for once, with persistent unity amongst themselves? What happens when the balance is disturbed? Well exactly what happens when a landslide or a great flood occurs.. EQUALITY! And I’m not talking about some communist idea or a leftist propaganda.. this is equality to the core of its actuality.. And that’s where the true genius of this system lies.. it keeps the rich oppressive and united in greed, and the poor gullible, and divided in servitude…

Tell me.. why is it that our history books are conveniently tinkered with, and the legacy that we all so proudly inherit and pompously pass on to our progeny, is manipulated?

To make it more palatable for the hundreds of intolerant religious sects??

To throw light only on the most relevant and glorifying aspects??

NO.. well that’s exactly what they would want you to think.. but the truth is.. it’s meant to condition your mind since your very inception, that the world we live in, is stereotypical.. that if you emulate the actions of some random ‘Great’ personalities then you can actually attain divinity and one day, become a great leader or an industrialist or a social activist or a movie star or any similar such reprobate, that slavery is the first step towards liberty.. that good always conquers evil and light conquers the darkness… But if you hark in your mind, any of the above impressions.. even a single one.. then you belong to the millions who have been very conveniently duped, just like their forefathers, by this great big fraudulent system… What does this system thrive on? Two basic premises: That the working class maintains strong morals and ideals of “High thinking and simple living” and secondly, that the ruling class constantly resorts to unscrupulous means to gain the maximum profit out of the labour of the working class. And what keeps the cogs and the jewels of this system meshed together and working in perfect harmony like clockwork? The force of synergy: The middle class… the people who are the real spiders.. who with their sycophancy wish to one day attain the status and riches of their provider and for it, they are ready to hound and backstab almost anyone. They keep waiting and waiting and lead discontented lives and die miserable deaths and are then quietly cremated, only to add fertility to this land.. if not in life, then atleast with their corpses..

I have travelled many a mile, working as a coroner along the Ghats of Ganges, and seen many corpses being returned to their true mother. Each and every one of these corpses.. with its aghast expression, has told me the painful story of its life.. either death came too early for it.. for it never got time to gather enough money to pay off a debt or the daughters dowry.. or it came too late.. only after its unrewarding life had broken down the person, now manifested into this corpse, to its very soul.. Being a coroner is no easy task but it’s really the most rewarding of all professions.. coz while most others teach you the nuances of life.. it teaches you the nuances of death..

Hence, on this momentous occasion, I pay full reverence to my adapted profession and proclaim, that my death would be the final gift for the people of my country, and my death would be my revenge, for the morbid system that plagues it.. and I can say this with absolute certainty, coz of my unflinching belief in the media, who I am sure, would keep the memory of this melodramatic suicide, fresh and alive in the mind of every person of this country, by repeated telecasts, expert analyses and celebrity debates.. ”

Then, he winked and jumped back into the same croc-infested waters from which he had risen a few moments ago, while every single camera present there, captured the consternating scene of his gory death, frame-by-frame..

TnP

2009-07-18T05:13:00.000-07:00

Testosterone: A white crystalline steroid hormone, C19H28O2, produced primarily in the testes and responsible for the development and maintenance of male secondary sex characteristics.

Progesterone: A steroid hormone, C21H30O2, secreted by the corpus luteum of the ovary and by the placenta, that acts to prepare the uterus for implantation of the fertilized ovum, to maintain pregnancy and female secondary sex characteristics.

Testosterone and progesterone, fancy talk apart, are basically the key ingredients that keep a man manly and girl girly. Now manliness is generally associated with courage, valor, audacity, valiance, gallantry, etc.. while girlyness brings the following terms to mind: timid, coy, panicky, edgy and maybe even weak (no offence dear lionhearted sHE-MANs’). But sometimes, I wonder if it’s really so….

***

I was just as nervous as any interviewee would be just before appearing for his super-dream-star (whateva) company. Every would-be MBA dreams of and also dreads this moment… one interview which stands between shattered dreams and a seven figure salary. I cleared my throat, checked my hair, fine-tuned my tie and stepped into the interview room, only to find that it was vacant. I was later informed that the panel had gone for a tea-break, which meant I had to wait for fifteen more agonizing minutes before I got my chance. I began sweating was so profusely that I could see dark sweat-rings forming above my arms on my shirt, the light color of which, only accentuated the contrast.. Damn these dress codes!

In an attempt to keep my mind uncluttered for those 15 miserable minutes, I kept thinking about various random things: the proceedings of the recent G8 summit, impact of NGOs on today’s economy, the band night of our fest, my messed up room, the shocking election results.. wait a minute.. MY ROOM!! Did I lock it or not? Or did I just casually put the latch and actually forgot to lock it? That.. lemme tell you, is the most gut wrenching thought that can strike anyone just before an interview. You want to run over and make sure its locked.. but what if the darn interview starts and you nowhere to be found, only to turn up 15 minutes late.. all sweaty, coughing, wheezing and panting?? Man.. that was sheer horror. I was losing it totally and that was when I felt a strange but familiar tingle in my well-creased trousers. I checked my cell and saw Mom has sent an SMS.. “All d bst sweetie..”

Well.. I know it sounds overtly clichéd.. but my Mom is the best mom in the world.. and for more reasons than one. As I was replying to the msg.. I saw a man in the distance.. dressed in a pristine grey suit.. tall and fair.. and I don’t know what that little bald spot on the back of your head from which all the hair seems to spiral-out is called.. but just by looking at that spot.. I felt I knew this man. It was such a strange feeling. I kept staring at him in a desperate bid to discern his identity and unknowingly I stood up and started walking towards him. It was quite obvious he was one amongst the panel, but who exactly was he, still remained a mystery. I was only about ten feet from him when he suddenly turned around. That was it. Seeing him made me forget everything about the interview, about my nervousness and about my possibly unlocked room. All that crossed my mind then, was the image of my Mom, the hard working single mother, who had painstakingly brought me up amidst all odds, even when her home run business was in shambles and even when her husband had left her during the most critical stage of her life. The guy in the grey suit was my Ex-dad…

The two of us were standing face-to-face and one fleeting awkward moment later, in which his face had expressed a gamut of emotions ranging from shock to disbelief to shame and pity to surprise and affection, he recollected himself and briskly paced into the chamber.

I felt numb inside and my heartbeat seemed to have gone missing. I wanted to strangle that man in front of his colleagues and ask him where the hell had he disappeared without leaving behind even a piece of paper or anything at all, that would reassure us that he would return one day. But, doing that would surely have screwed all my chances of landing a job and that’s not what I wanted. But more importantly.. that’s not what my Mom wanted. I remained calm and poised and gracefully stepped into the room. There was another guy with him in there, wearing a brown suit, who looked well into his fifties. Maybe the flavor of the elaichi tea he’d just had was still lingering in his mouth or something, coz he had an unassumingly pleasant expression on his wrinkled face. I greeted the panel and looked towards the guy in the grey suit. It was clear. He wasn’t trying to hide it. He knew who I was and he knew that I knew who he was. There was a hint of pity visible on his face apart from which he looked completely aghast. The silence lasted for a fraction of a second after which the usual colloquy ensued:

Brown Suit: So.. Tell me something ‘bout yourself..

Me: Sir, I am a very friendly guy. I can strike a conversation with anyone and at the same time identify if they are genuinely friendly or faking compliance. According to me, the ability to pick out pretentious behavior is something that is very important for being a successful investment banker.. coz only then can you strike deals which are cent-percent infallible. That apart, I believe I can accomplish anything that I set my mind to, as that is something that I have got as heritage from my Mom.

B.S.: So what is it that you have accomplished in your life that can validate your statement?

Me: Sir, I have been raised amidst incessant bankruptcy. All my life, Mom had to run the household and her business with absolutely no money but still, like every other Indian parent, she had dreamt that her child gets the ultimate job insurance there is: An IIM-A degree… And as far back as I can remember, all my studies have been funded by the government in regard of my excellent academic background. The very fact that I am sitting here in front of you without ever taking a penny out of my Mom’s purse for my education, is by far the greatest achievement I could have dreamt of.

B.S.: It seems you hold your mother in very high regard..

Me: Yes Sir, she has been the most influential person in my life. She’s part housewife, part entrepreneur and a part time teacher.. I mean if anyone..

Grey Suit: (interrupting) So, why do you want to join this company?

Me: If you don’t mind Sir, I wanna share a little story to answer this question…

India, as we all know, is a land of dreamers. People young and old dream alike, of one day making it big and scripting an extraordinary rags-to-riches story that serves as an example to the entire world. My parents were no different. Born and brought up in a middle class environment, both had nurtured similar dreams and had even refused seven figure salaries to start their own little venture. My mom, incidentally had got a job offer from this very firm and had always dreamt of having a fat paycheque, a car, a big house, her own chamber.. the works. She was never the entrepreneurial types.. but it was my father’s enterprising vision that changed her mind and she took his dream as her own. But as luck would have it, even after years of conscientious efforts, their diligence bore no fruits and whatever startup money they had acquired, had been invested in an endeavor trapped in a vicious cycle of loss. As time passed, the constant struggle against all odds just to stay afloat, sapped the optimism out of my father and he got attracted towards the comforts of a secure, well paying job. Hence, he left us to join some foreign bank, leaving my mom to wage a lonely war against the tide of time, like trying to steer a sinking ship caught in a torrid storm..

Hence, it’s actually my Mom’s dream that I wanna fulfill by joining this company, so that I can give her everything she had always hoped for all through her life…

G.S.: But then, why did your mother not abandon her sinking ship and get a job as per her abilities?

Me: Well.. to tell you the truth, she actually did think of ‘abandoning her ship’ once. I remember the day quite well.. I was eight then.. She had finalized the sell-out over the phone and I was sitting right beside her. After hanging up, she took a deep sigh and looked towards me incoherently. She told me that she had quit her failed business forever and sold it off. I stared at her for a while and then asked.. “Mom, if I fail at school, will you leave me too??”

She looked into my eyes, whacked her head with her hand, hugged me tightly and immediately called the deal off. From that day onwards, whenever someone asks her ‘bout it, she says that she has two children. One with the four limbs and one that is ‘special’.

I mean, even a godforsaken monkey, carries its dead child with itself in the hope that it may be revived one day… We for once, are still human beings Sir!

B.S.: (after a prolonged silence) Well.. since asking any further questions seems pointless, I just want to ask one final thing. What would you do if you are not selected here today?

Me: First thing I would do is get a blood-test done. After all, I am my mother’s son.. there is no way I cannot get selected.. hehe..

Grey Suit: It’s been nice meeting you, thanks for coming..

Me: The pleasure is all mine.. Sir.

***

I was woken up next morning by a deafening noise outside my room. It sounded like a mob outbreak and an outrageous number of people were hysterically banging on my door. I opened up and was greeted with loud cheers and hugs. It was official now.. I had been selected.

Shortly after, in true-blue IIM-A fashion, my room got mobbed by juniors and batch mates alike, all of whom kept asking inane questions ‘bout the selection process and the experience of making it through to the most sought after profile in the entire country. Some guy actually brought a camcorder and started a mock interview of sorts, making sure that he used the word ‘Sansanikhez’ repeatedly. I gave the usual mundane tips for preps and then, when everything had settled down a bit, I dropped the bomb… I told I’d be rejecting the offer and instead, join my Mom full-time to revive her disconcerted enterprise. Rest assured, my candid decision caused quite an uproar and the mock news reporter found only one word suitable enough to describe the turn of events: ‘Sansanikhezz!!’

After praising my resolve and questioning my sanity with equal certainty for sometime, I was asked to give a final word of advice to all the wannabe IBs’. I thought about it for a while and then said:

“It really doesn’t matter what you are like in the outside world.. inside the chamber, you should be the reflection of the man who you wish to be ten years down the lane. Always look the interviewer in the eye, be confident and remember, the guy sitting in front of you, is just another insecure person, like the rest of us..”

A MILITANT’S MEMOIR- PART II

2009-03-16T04:41:00.000-07:00

……..Contd.

“What is your name?” was the first thing that the youngest one asked me the next morn after I got up.. I thought it would be unwise to tell them the truth and said.. “Did you know how your father and I became friends??” They all returned blank expressions to which I replied.. “Your father had once received a letter.. but it was no ordinary letter, it was a love letter from a girl expressing her deepest and most intimate desires in the most affectionate way humanly possible. This news spread like wildfire in our regiment.. that confined in the insentient and estranged expanses of a deserted land an unsung war hero had garnered a secret admirer. With time.. the news reached my ears and even I was interested to find out more about this Adonis present amongst us.. and when I did get to lay my hands on the coveted letter.. I found to my amazement.. the addressee was none other than my fiancée.. and the reason why the letter had reached the wrong hands was coz your father and me might not have shared common love interests but we did share the same name! That was when our friendship blossomed and slowly transformed from companionship into camaraderie.”

..By the time I finished this contrived recital of self-redemption, I found I had managed to capture the puerile fantasies of all three kids.. and even their mother, who knew the actuality of it all, couldn’t help but suppress a quivering smile from appearing on her somnolent face…

After a few days.. we moved to another town, where by virtue of the military certificate, we got a permanent residence and with time I settled into this docile way of life… working as a clerk during the day, telling bedtime stories in the night.. and in between, helping their mother out with other mundane household chores..

Quite amazingly.. with each passing day now.. the immensely garroting feeling of remorse in me had slowly started to subside. I felt that penitence was the only reward for my transgression and by committing myself to their well-being and tranquility, I was absolving the sins I had committed, by dropping in uninvited in their placid lives. By then we had made a world of our own.. five souls who had discovered unparalleled bliss in ignorance, with countless questions to ask from one another.. but still refraining from quenching their anxiety, due to the fear of upsetting the unassertive sustenance round which their lives revolved..

But even in this serene way of life.. there was one disconcerting thought that would often pass my mind.. The image of Her.. waiting in the rain, waving her hands in a lovelorn adieu, her bedewed eyes betraying the smile on her face.. lips quivering in a silent farewell… all of it haunted me and slowly.. all my waking hours were consumed in the reminiscence of that fleeting moment of separation.. and in my sleep.. I would hear her voice, her laugh, her murmurs, her whispers, that faint tune which always adorned her lips whenever we were together... My entire life seemed to be devoted to her memories and the incessant yearning for a moment of togetherness.. became an obsession of sorts....

And one fine morning.. this realization struck me.. that I had not written to her even once during my prolonged subsistence in this alien land.. how long was it since the unpropitious night of the plane crash.. I had no idea and there was no way I could inquire and find it out..

I decided then.. that I would write to her.. tell her about my fateful experiences and ominous trysts with destiny.. how I had missed her all along and ask her about how she had been, all these days. That night.. I sat down to pen down all these fleeting thoughts that choked my mind, making it incapable of contemplation.. and only envisioning how she would react upon reading this letter..

I wrote down every single thought that had crossed my mind, describing every silent tear that I had wept in her longing, how desperately I wanted to see her puckered smile, to feel the warmth of her gentle touch, to hear her sweet voice.. and I don’t know when.. but unknowingly, I fell asleep under the silver moonlight.. unaware of the time.. and was engulfed in a deep paradoxical sleep.. lost in a time when me and my beloved were walking down the country road.. hand-in-hand..

When I woke up.. the clamorous din of thunder ringed in my ears and I saw that it was raining maliciously.. and what was more starling was the fact, that the front door was open… I stepped out and saw in the scanty moonlight a sight I had never imagined.. their mother was walking along the desolate road.. walking all alone in the rain.. like a lost soul lamenting the loss of a beloved.. yearning for a sense of purpose in a lovelorn life.. I ran up to her.. held her arms.. and found her weeping most uninhibitedly..

Just as I attempted to console her.. she put her hand across my neck and rested her drenched scalp on my shoulder.. with tears trickling down her ashen cheeks.. the warmth of which I could feel even through two layers of woolen robes..

I wondered what could have been the cause of such agony that made this woman, with a heart as robust as steel.. deluge her silent tears frozen in time, on a night as sinister as this.. I tried to take her to shelter but she wouldn’t budge.. she just kept weeping and then, almost after an eternity had passed with the two of us drenching in the downpour.. she slowly raised her brow and rolled up her eyes.. enough for me to get a clear view of them.. but angled in a manner that they could in no way meet the sight of mine..

“I’m a sinner” she said.. “I’ve sinned..”

“What.. what sin are you talking about?”

“I’ve sinned.. I destroyed your letter..”

“My letter? WHY??”

“Actually.. all letters posted from our country to yours are reviewed by the police under the behest of the military. I thought of warning you but then reading what you had written.. made my heart ache.. and being a woman.. however stone hearted at that but a woman nonetheless.. I can understand the agony of one waiting for the return of her beloved.. when everyone else has forgotten all about him.. But letting you post it would have meant that we’d be arrested on counts of treason and so before this letter made me change my mind.. I destroyed it..”

“But still.. I mean it’s not such a big crime that you think it to be.. it was just a piece of paper.. I can write it down again…”

“That’s what my crime is.. I don’t want you to write it down ever again..”

I was taken aback by her reply.. and as my mind raced to think of any possible rational reason for her answer.. she spoke.. “I don’t want you to leave us the way my husband left me.. I have come to love my life the way it is and the truth is that your uninvited entry in it has in fact brought me closer to my daughters.. the very daughters whom I had hated, thinking of them to be the reason why the love of my life had deserted me.. but your arrival has given me a purpose.. to keep fighting for them.. to make them strong and able enough so that no spineless bastard can abandon them in the death of night and leave them weak and helpless.. and You.. you are that very source of providence and righteousness for them whom they look upon so ardently.. and if you leave.. my life would lose purpose.. my daughters would lose their guiding star and I.. would once again lose any hope of finding love in the face of adversities..”

As I stood there that night.. dumfounded by the woman’s reply.. amidst the torrential downpour and the pallid moonlight.. I could think of no better way to respond.. and I kissed her… and doing so.. brought back memories of the times I’d shared with my beloved and looking into her eyes.. I knew.. that she too felt the same way..

I then decided to settle down with them and to never think about her ever again.. but the devil we all so fondly know as Love.. had other plans.. I just couldn’t stop thinking about her and every agonizing day that passed.. increased my desperation to unbearable extremities.. and going against the unsaid promise that I had made that night.. I wrote to her.. saying I am fine..

I repented my action thereafter and would often have nightmares in which the military would invade our home and hold us all in custody.. but as the days passed.. all such speculation in my heart died down and I forgot all about the matter..

Then one afternoon, I heard a knock on the door.. it was a mailman with a package for me.. when I opened it.. I was amused to find a white card in it.. and as I was scanning it further.. my eyes stopped on a spot where Her name was written, along with that of another man.. she had sent me her wedding card with a little hand written note saying “I’m getting married..”

I don’t know how long I stood there like that.. reading those words again and again as my heart refused to accept the truth.. I still thought it was some conspiracy or a misunderstanding.. although I knew fully well that every single letter on that note.. was written by her hand..

The whole evening I kept thinking of a way to stop her from getting married and could think of no better way than to go back and tell her how much I still loved her.. but then, I thought of the children and their mother.. what about them? But still.. I had to go and finally.. I ran away.. in the death of the night.. to forever become a forgotten memory.. lost somewhere in the depths of their broken hearts.. while they slept there peacefully.. dreaming blissfully.. unaware of the torment that awaited them the next morning..

..I kept running and while I was crossing the border.. I was spotted by the guards, who after warning me repeatedly.. shot at me and the next thing I remember.. is waking up in this interrogation cell… And this is my true story officer.. nothing but the truth.. I am not a spy or a terrorist or a militant.. I’m just a man in search of his destiny…”

There was deathly silence in the room, the officers stood there stunned and speechless. A while later, a senior looking officer stepped in, he looked at me for a moment and then asked me to follow him..

As I stepped out of the dimly lit room, I saw in front of me a limitless expanse of barren land, with just two fences running at parallels through it, like the two banks of a river. The officer kept his hand on my shoulder and spoke.. “Our lives are all like the pieces of a puzzle.. all of them having protrusions, concavities and irregularities, some more irregular than others but all of them.. irregular nonetheless.. And it’s a fact.. that no single piece is complete in itself.. it needs other such supplementary pieces to attain completion. But, it is also a fact that no single piece out of the hundred others can complete us and only along with two, three or maybe more such irregular pieces.. can another such piece be completed. But.. of all these numerous pieces that complete us.. there is one special piece.. which fits in so perfectly.. which is unique.. is irreplaceable.. and recognizing that piece, is the very essence of life.. Each and every one of us has it, just like every one of us.. is that one special piece for someone else..”

“If you want, you can return to your motherland or go back to where you came from and I promise you.. not a single bullet would be fired.. the choice is yours.. your Destiny awaits you..”

A MILITANT’S MEMOIR - Part 1

2009-01-26T04:33:00.000-08:00

“Come back soon.. I’ll be waiting for you..”

I couldn’t say anything.. I just kept staring at her.. with that soft quivering smile of hers and a warm gaze in her eyes that drove away the chill of the rainy night by the flame of ardent love burning inside us both.. I felt fortunate to have met her and loved her.. and knowing the fact that of the countless drops of water falling on the ground that instant, one of them was a silent tear of hers...

Next thing I remember was that our plane had crashed in an unknown territory and the radar showed three little dots approaching us. The crash was indeed noticed by the surrounding guards and they came in for surveillance. They were speaking an unknown tongue and that made us twitch... It was bad enough to be lying unconscious, with a broken wrist, having to suppress the searing pain, but the sight of foreign soldiers piercing the dead bodies lying around me with their bayonets.. that.. was horrifying..

I thought I was better off dead.. but what was surprising for me.. lying there.. waiting to be impaled.. was the fact that I wasn’t scared of it. All these dreadful thoughts that were springing up in my mind one after the another were just serving to distract me from the current predicament I was in.. coz at that point.. all that I could think of was.. her standing there in the rain.. waving her hands.. The fact that she was still waiting there for me.. knowing I may never return.. it gave me immense amount of courage. My father once told me.. if your heart is empty.. your mind doesn’t matter. But my heart was full.. full of the love that she had shown me.. full of the faith she had in me… and hence.. my mind was working furiously.. I had to find a way to get out of there.. just so that I could get back to her and hold her in my arms..

That was when I realized.. I was lying on top of the emergency exit. To get out.. all I needed to do was turn the knob and jump out.. which was exactly what I did.. only to realize later that we had actually crashed on top of a tree.. and I fell down making a loud thud. That caught the attention of a guard who was standing down there and he rushed towards me.. I was reeling with excruciating pain but had no time to nurse my wounds… I picked up broken branch and hit the soldier with a mighty swing. He fell down on the ground, probably unconscious. I exchanged my clothes with him, took his gun and ran away. I reached a dwelling that had light flickering inside. I peeped in through the door and saw a woman, sitting on her knees.. praying to god for something.. I tried to make out what she was saying.. but all I got was “protect my love fighting for the pride of our country”. I thought of an excuse to get in and knocked on the door.

There were three girls inside the house apart from her. Two of them were sleeping and the other one got up by the sound. The house was empty, except for a few pieces of furniture and a large trunk. The woman told me to go away, as I had expected, to which I replied.. I am friend of your husband.. he has sent me with some money for u.. he still loves you and remembers you all fondly.. can I get some water please..

The woman was shocked and ran inside.. she handed me a blanket and shut the doors.. the girl inquired more about her father.. to which I gave random and vague, but satisfactory answers, reassuring her repeatedly that he still loved and remembered them.

That night, as I was lying on the floor.. trying hard to sleep.. l looked at that innocent girl’s face and the thought struck me.. it wasn’t just me who was waiting to get back.. even this girl was waiting… waiting for her father.. god knows who or where he was... That is what life is like, for our families.. wait and wait.. ceaselessly, with unwavering belief that their loved ones would one day return to them.. feeling their presence near you all the time.. even if they are not by your side.

Waiting.. the most difficult part of our lives.. more so if it’s for something you are unsure would happen..

Next morning I was woken up by the girl. She told me that the entire village was being searched for an unknown enemy soldier who had escaped last night, killing one of theirs... Every house was inspected and every person scrutinized.. I immediately tried to get up, but couldn’t. The fall had hurt me and my arm was swollen. She looked at my pain and said she would call the officers to help me… as I was one of them. I stopped her.. saying that I had come back unofficially.. and if found out.. I would be put in prison. She unassumingly believed me and called her mother who was busy preparing some alchemic ointment of sorts which she applied on my wrist and my back.. made me inhale some of its sharp heady vapors, as I wondered.. what is this strange force.. known as love, that not only the person concerned, but anyone even remotely connected to them in their joys and sorrows.. becomes a trustworthy companion of ours.. wondrous are the caprices of the heart.. making us forget reason and logic at times we need them the most and then showing us courage in times of insurmountable adversities… and slowly.. I was lulled into a deep dreamless slumber.

Once again I was woken up by the girl, but it was dark now. I couldn’t make out what was happening.. all I could see were four, dark, faint figures in front of me, who looked like columns of thick smoke rising from a distance. I was woken up again, this time more sternly, by a firmer voice.. and I saw in front of me the woman.. young by appearance but not by her expressions. She had the look on her face which the old ladies of our house have, when they encounter anything contrary to their known beliefs.. She told me to have dinner and take rest.. I said I was fine, but she insisted. As I was about to lie down again.. I noticed the two little girls looking at me wondrously.. they must have been wondering who this stranger is who has been sleeping all day in their house. I went towards them and asked them their names. They didn’t reply.. their mother told them to go to sleep.. they resented.. but finally had to follow her orders and reluctantly went to their respective mats. Then I asked them.. “Would you like to hear a story?” they gleefully agreed. Their mother was skeptical.. but still I continued.. telling them fabricated, fictional, fairy tales about how brave their father was.. slaying dragons.. clashing single handedly with legions and saving their mother from the clutches of an evil villain.. etc. etc... as they sat there wide eyed and amazed..

Later that night.. as I was rolling uneasily in bed.. I found the door was open and their mother was sitting in the porch. I took my blanket and went to her. She looked at me, surprised, and kept staring at me.. I felt uncomfortable by being ogled at like that and was about to say something when she spoke..

“You know.. these two have never seen the face of their father.. no one has ever told them a bedtime story.. in fact, they don’t even know who their father is.. he left us the day I gave birth to a third girl child.. in a way you have been more a father to them than he ever was..”

“Who are you? Are you the same soldier they were looking for today?”

“As I said.. I am in the same regiment as your husband and I’ve run away from the army.. he had told me to give his family the message of his well being and that he loved you all..”

“If that is the case.. then why are you wearing his shirt??”

My throat got parched in an instant.. the realization came so suddenly that it made me go blank.. I understood then, that the reason those soldiers didn’t come to this house was because it belonged to that very person who had been killed that night…

“When you knew it was me they were looking for.. knowing very well that I was the person who killed your husband.. why didn’t you tell them?”

“Well.. I had thought of handing you over, although at first I thought of killing you myself. Seeing the murderer of the person whom I had loved so dearly, lying unconscious in front of me, was enough inspiration for doing so.. but then my daughter told me what you told her.. how happy she felt by the fact that someone who knew her father was there with us, someone who had risked his life just for delivering the message of his safety. I didn’t want to take away that little glint of happiness from her eyes... But that too wasn’t the reason. While you were lying half dead there.. I heard you say something.. it didn’t sound like water.. or food.. it was the name of a girl.. then I realized… just like I wait for him all the time.. day and night.. there might be someone who waits for you too.. I know, the torment caused by a lifetime of loneliness and the fire which burns your heart every time you think about them. And if I can’t end mine.. then I can at least help in ending someone else’s longing.”

“But.. because of me.. your wait will never end now..”

“But that doesn’t mean I’ll stop waiting..”

“Waiting?? But for whom??”

“Waiting for love.. aren’t we all..”

There was an awkward moment of silence. To change the topic.. I asked her where her eldest daughter was.. she said she had gone to claim the belongings of her father…

“In the death of the night? Amidst such biting cold weather? Don’t you think you should have gone with her?”

“Well.. I couldn’t just leave you all like that..”

“Then I’m going with her to get her back.. it’s too much of a torment for a girl her age..”

“Wait.. I’ll go.. you need to rest..”

“Well then.. Come back soon.. I’ll be waiting for you..”

...........................To be continued

PANACEA

2008-11-19T05:29:00.000-08:00

They say that when you are about to die, your entire life flashes in front of your eyes. But when the person who you love the most is about to die in front of you, then what do you see?

…….

I am special. I can see the future. But, it comes with a caveat; I can’t tell what I see to anyone, coz if I do so, then the exact opposite of it happens.

I first found out when I was twelve, old enough to understand the dynamics of life and death in a rational manner. I was out walking my dog when suddenly a red haze appeared in front of my eyes. I saw a crowd gathered around a spot and as I tried to peer in, I saw a girl crying over her dead dog. That girl was me. Needless to say, moments later, my beloved canine was put to sleep by a bus and I was left dumbfounded, with tears trickling down my eyes. I had other such visions throughout my life but none comparable to what I had seen just now.

Both of us were out to the carnival, to celebrate our second anniversary together, doing the third round of the Ferris wheel. Not that it’s the epitome of a romantic getaway, but coz he just loved the thrill of it all. And I loved the way his hair flew back and how his eyes doubled in size, with a beaming smile on his face. We were approaching the top when I saw the familiar red haze. I saw that just as we were crossing the helm, the harness broke off, and I was flung fore, plummeting towards my impending death.

I had grown used too such grotesque visions and had learnt to control my tongue so as not to mess with destiny’s perfect plans, but what I had seen just now was totally off the hook. I had seen myself get hurt before, but never dying. And I don’t know what it was, maybe it was the strength of his love, or the belief that maybe if death had to come, there wasn’t a more opportune moment, but impulsively I blurted it out to him...

“I’m about to die”, I said.

He looked into my eyes, a little surprised, well aware of my “gift” and the consequences, if the visions were to be revealed. But he just smiled and looking deep into my eyes, kissed me. I suddenly realized that I had committed a ghastly blunder, and had put his life in jeopardy, as the opposite of “I’m about to die”, would imply “YOU, are about to die”…

What would you see?

I closed my eyes, but yet I could see clearly, all the moments spent with him, that had contributed in shaping my life like it is today. I remember, this day, exactly two years ago, when we had first met at New Years Eve. I was at a friend’s party and due to the lack-luster ambience, was just biding my time standing in the balcony, looking at the stars, wondering about how lonely each star would feel, in that cold and dark universe, being millions of miles away, even from its immediate neighbors. And in midst of my profound contemplation of interstellar commiserations, I had a vision. I saw a man jumping out that very balcony, upon which I was resting my elbows now. Needless to say, I was shocked. I looked around and saw a lot of people who were dancing and drinking, but couldn’t find anyone who looked even remotely interested in committing suicide. Midnight was fast approaching and I had to leave the place by twelve; not that I was Cinderella or something, but I had strict orders at home to be back by 1, lest I’d be grounded for the next three months. I was wondering where to find him, when I heard someone crying. I couldn’t fathom the source but I knew it was from somewhere near. I craned my neck as far out as I could, and saw that right below me, a man was standing on the parapet, his feet dangerously close to the edge and I knew I had found my man. I called out to him but he didn’t respond. I called him again and this time he looked up, bewildered and apparently intoxicated. He asked: “Who is this??”

“This is God”.

“God??”

“Yes, God. And you sir are about to commit the most heinous crime humanly possible. Why do you want to die?”

“You are God. You wrote this for me. You should know. And since when did women get elected for such important posts? Really, no wonder God is a she. Women hate me and I am destined to suffer at their hands…”

“It’s not their fault you see. You write your own destiny. It’s you who choose the wrong girls and then blame the whole female fraternity. You should be more careful as to whom you attach your emotions with and whom you rest your trust upon. You shouldn’t give up like this.. somewhere out there, there is a girl waiting just for you.”

“But then, every girl I have loved has either left me or ended up in bed with my one of my friends. How do I know where my perfect girl is?”

“Well.. Just open the door..”

Saying this, I rushed downstairs and waited for the door to open. After sometime it did open. Our eyes met and however clichéd it might sound, it was love at first sight. We kept looking into each other’s eyes and could hear fireworks going off in the background. And just like Cinderella, I had found my Prince Charming at the stroke of midnight. We kissed and I don’t know what it’s like up there, but I knew I was in heaven…

That tear trickling down his cheek then, it flashed in front of me now.

..We were having a leisurely stroll in the park on a lazy October afternoon. I noticed he wasn’t talking much and I knew something was bothering him. I had a vision, in which I saw him crying, bawling, absolutely screeching, as if his world had come to an end. I asked him: “Is something wrong?”

“Nope.. everything’s just fine..”

“Doesn’t seem so to me, you look like you’re about to cry. And why are you fiddling with that empty packet in your hand, just throw it..”

“I like it, it reminds of the ‘corn I just had.. I can feel that saltiness lingering in my mouth every time I look at it..”

“Look dear, if it’s just the popcorn then we can buy another one, but really if it’s something else then you can always tell me..”

He took a deep breath and gasped, then after something that seemed like an eternity, he finally spoke...
“You see that couple over there, sitting on the bench.. that girl was my first love..”

I felt a mild jolt all over my body and for a moment I froze in my stance, but seeing that my silence wouldn’t help the cause, I joked..
“Well, maybe she was, maybe she wasn’t. One can never be too sure of such things when one has been in as many relationships as you have..”

“You think I don’t remember? She was the first girl whom I dreamt about, whose persona and grace were unparalleled, such that other girls have only been caricatures of.. and maybe the reason why I have been in so many failed relationships is that I tried to look for her in every girl I met, forgetting the fact that she was and always will be, unique. And even now, when I see her sitting there, laughing and holding hands, it makes me feel jealous, feel unhappy; not that it’s your fault in any way, but just that I can’t seem to get over her.”

I was shocked, and inside me I was crying. Every word of his had struck me like lighting and reeling under the influence of them, I spoke:
“See, maybe it’s your latent sadness that doesn’t allow you to accept other peoples happiness. Sometimes people are happy and sometimes they just give the impression of being so, it doesn’t really matter. But the thing is, that the most important things are the hardest to say. They are the things you get ashamed of, because words diminish them- words shrink things that seemed limitless when they were in your head to no more than living size when they're brought out. But it's more than that, isn't it? The most important things lie wherever your secret emotions are buried, like landmarks to a treasure your enemies would love to steal away. And you may make revelations that cost you dearly, only to have people look at you in a funny way, not understanding what you've said at all, or why you thought it was so important, that you almost cried while you were saying it. That's the worst, I think. When the secret stays locked within not for want of a teller but for want of an understanding ear. And I don’t know whether I can ever live upto your expectations or match her persona and grace, but I can assure you one thing, I will always be that understanding ear and that shoulder you can lean on; and maybe the one who can make you laugh in your times of misery…”

He looked at me with eyes full of adoration and asked: “Tell me one thing, what is happiness for you?"

“For me.. this is happiness. Just being here with you..”

That smile on his face then, it flashed in front of me now.

There were many more such slices of life that flashed in front of me in a split second. I could feel that we were approaching the top and my heart was filled with intense anxiety. I held him tightly, thinking that if death had to come, then it should take us both together. He could feel my twitchy embrace and kissed me even harder; realizing that any moment now, both of us could be separated for ever. We started descending and my heart was pounding inside me, maybe hard enough so that he felt it throbbing against his chest, as he tightened his hold around me. Suddenly I heard a loud bang.

For a moment my heart stopped. Then there was another, and another and another, they just kept on coming. We looked up and saw the sky was lit up with resplendent fountains of light, spluttering fulgurant streams of sparkles in the air, filing the night sky up, with a million glittering stars in all possible colors. We kept on descending until we slowly reached the bottom and finally got off; while not for a single moment did our eyes leave the sight of each other.

He didn’t die and neither did I. But I kept wondering how my vision had proved me wrong today; and only later on did I realize, that the opposite of “I’m about to die” is also, “I ain’t about to die”…

I don’t know what antonyms does God choose, but I do know that although modern medicine has performed many miracles till date, but love and only love, has the power to conquer death…

H.I.M.Y.M.

2008-10-23T06:07:00.000-07:00

"Kids.. today I’m going to tell u a story. The Title of the story is ELEVEN MINUTES.."

“Once upon a time, way back in 2029, a great man had an untimely death. But, before dying, he called his brother and told him his last wish. He told him to bring a particular packet from his locker and leave him alone with it, in his last few moments.

The brother was really curious to know what it was but he couldn’t possible interrupt a person who was rightfully claiming his last wish. Three agonizing hours later, he found out. It was a diary.

It was wrapped neatly in cellophane, like he always did to all his vintage books. He couldn’t help but wonder, what’s written in it. He had never seen him writing, all he ever wrote were cheques. He was so desperate to read what was inside that all his morals and ethics couldn’t stop him from doing so.

“Sorry pal..” he said to his deceased brother, and began peering into the first-hand accounts of some of his brothers most secret and undisclosed experiences.”

“Now kids.. remember, it’s BAD to read somebody’s diary and you should never, and under no circumstances, do such an unscrupulous thing.."

"Anyways, getting back to the story, he opened the diary and found the first few pages were empty and some had random scribbling and sketches in them. Then on a page dated March 17th, he finally found something meaningful..

“I saw a strange girl today. She was quite serious. She was neatly dressed and had a maroon purse. She had in her hands a novel wrapped in newspaper. Now I hate that. If u can spend 500 bucks on an ordealistic novel, then u can very well spend 5 more on a piece of wrapping paper. And that too a newspaper dated 12th September 2006, now that’s more than six months old! Sheesh! But all that apart, one thing stood out about her, that which made her remarkably different from all other girls on the train, and maybe even from all other girls I have ever seen in my life.. She was surrealistically beautiful. I’ve never seen a girl like her before!!”

March 23rd:

“She looks sad. And lonely. She always has this novel in her hand. She always has this pen in the other and keeps marking and scribbling things in it. I mean how boring can you get. Who reads a novel to cut eleven minutes in a train? It’s not like it’s an overnight journey or anything. But still she keeps reading it almost religiously. I think I’m crazy, coz I think I love her. My friends say it’s normal and it’s just an infatuation and with time, will eventually wear off. Whatever it is, but it’s a beautiful feeling…”

July 23rd:

“It’s weird. I mean how long does it take someone to finish off a novel? If you are a slow reader and take even 3 minutes to finish a page then that means in 22 mins. you can read 7 pages. That means u can easily finish it in 50 days. But it’s been four months now… And she doesn’t seem to have finished even half of it. Maybe it’s not so interesting. But then why does she keep on reading it? And weirdest part is that she doesn’t seem to read it in any particular order. Sometimes its half done. Sometimes only a few pages. Sometimes it looks like on the verge of ending but it never does. It’s so damn bugging. I plan to ask her the day she does finish reading it, that which novel was it that took such a beautiful girl like her so long to complete..”

November 7th:

“I think about her like this crazy obsession of sorts. I mean however hard of I try to let go of her I can’t, I just can’t. And it drives me crazy but at the same time it makes me feel so alive. I feel if there is one difference between humans and animals, it’s that although both can love equally well, but only humans can express it in a way that makes the other believe that the sole purpose of their existence was nothing but loving that person back. We all come into this world naked and ignorant and like a deer in the woods, keep running aimlessly, searching for the meaning of life for all of our lives and only when it leaves us stranded in the darkness, that we understand that the true reason of human existence is love.. to love and to be loved.. maybe not by the same person but nevertheless by someone else; and I believe it’s not of great importance to get the person we love and marry them, but of greater importance is to just experience this amazing, out-of-this-world feeling we call love.
I love her and even if she may not know it, ever, but still I just love her. I don’t want to have her with me 24X7 or marry her or anything, basically coz she won’t do it, and I know that, but more so because I don’t want to know her better and in the process find out her shortcomings and flaws, if any. I just want her to be a beautiful, perfect, unparalleled dream, that was lovely, painful, nightmarish, enlightening, obsessive, ardorus, insightful, passionate, and many more such things, that are inherent parts of an experience we call life.. whenever I see her I know I am alive… People go and climb mountains, surf on raging waves, do crazy stunts and what not, just to experience the rush of blood and the exhilaration and excitement of being alive. I happen to get all of it in just a train ride.
The same eleven minutes of a journey that most people find mundane, uneventful and plain boring, were a new experience for me every day. My life is good, what more can I want from it?”

December 27th:

“I saw her today at the theater.. she was there with a man. He was touching her. Everywhere. I didn’t like it one bit. I felt like killing myself. Even though she didn’t like it one bit, then why didn’t she stop him? I felt like kicking that man in his groin and deprive him forever of his perverted manhood. But how could I. Would she even recognize me? She always seems so engrossed in that novel of hers that I don’t think she would even know if a bomb went off next to her, let alone recognize an ordinary fellow from a crowd of thousands. But still.. I love her..”

January 11th:
“I had such a great chance to talk to her today. My fractured hand was a perfect excuse to sit next to her on the reserved seat. But I screwed it. “No uncle it’s just fine”. Why couldn’t I just tell that guy to bugger off and finally sit next to her like I always wanted to? Damn!! But now I have decided. I will tell her tomorrow. I have to tell her. Coz I am going absolutely mad. After all, how hard can it be? I know she would say no but what the heck. At least it will cure me of this insanity.
But then, do I really want to get cured? Do I really want to end this dream so abruptly and deprive myself of such an amazing array of emotions that I experience every day? Maybe not..”

February 28th:

“I finally went and tried to talk to her. She didn’t have the novel today. Her station came and I got down with her. I asked her “I’ve been watching you for the past few days and couldn’t help but notice that novel in your hand. Which one was it?”

She didn’t reply. I tried to prolong the conversation, desperate to get a response.. “How did it take you so long to finish reading a 300-odd page novel?” Still no reply..

“I was thinking.. if you could have a few minutes.. there’s this great place near the station..”
And then she looked towards me with blank, pitiful eyes and all that she said was “Bye” and rushed away…”

The following pages were all blank. I was shocked by what I had just read and was hoping I had never read it in the first place. I didn’t know what to do with it and I felt sick, accompanied by a feeling that was a mixture of guilt and grief. I flipped over to the last page, and found something was written there.

It said:
“This girl changed my life forever. She, without saying a single word, taught me the meaning of love and life. So dear brother, please, if you are still reading this, then please find her, and as my last wish, give this diary to her if you do. Do this much for me bro..”

The brother was disgusted with himself and thought that the only way he could reclaim his self-respect, was by fulfilling his brothers last wish. He went to the only store in town that still kept vintage paperback books and asked the keeper if he had some really old ones. He told me that he did get one from a nearby house few days ago. He dint know the purchase date but it was covered in a newspaper dated September 2006. I almost grabbed his collar and asked him to show it.

It was the same. It completely fitted the description. I opened it and found a very strange detail about it: Every single unprinted inch of it, was filled with miniscule handwriting, often incomprehensible due to its age. But I could make out the gist of it. Whatever I could read, went like this:

“I again saw him today. He always takes the same train as me.”

“Today he was at the movies sitting three rows behind me. Every time my client touched me, I could almost hear his fingers tightening and his teeth clenching. I want to tell him but how can I. It would break his heart.”

Some printed lines were repeatedly underlined and highlighted, which were conversations between a bar dancer and her customer. I removed the newspaper covering the book, only after repeatedly reassuring the keeper that I would buy this dilapidated book, and the title was: “Eleven Minutes.. Paulo Cohelo..”

He asked the keeper that who sold it to him. He gave him the address. He went there and saw a woman so beautiful, that it’s worth spending your entire life, just for the sake of those eleven minutes in her company. He told her everything, about his brother, his diary and his last wish. He promised to free her from her demeaning profession, marry her, give her a home, family, children and above all respect."

"And they lived happily ever after…."

***

“Dad.. I couldn’t help wondering, is that old book in your hand the same as that in the story??”

“Well son, how can it be the same? After all.. it’s just a story…”

WASABI

2008-09-11T05:24:00.000-07:00

The following are excerpts from a yet unpublished Biography on the life of Yasser Arafat, renowned Palestinian leader and Noble Peace Prize recipient (1994). It reveals hitherto unknown and startling facts about his childhood and personal life, presented in articulate first-person phraseology.

Personal comment: Give it some time.. coz it's worth it.. SERIOUSLY!!

PROLOGUE

“It was August I remember..
The August of 1941..

We had just wound up my humble birthday celebrations in my uncle’s home and were cleaning up, when it happened. I remember, it was raining heavily outside; the barren roads of Jerusalem were desolate and I had just turned twelve. I had no idea why or for whom, the British soldiers raided and vandalized our unadorned home. But all I knew was that the weakling whom I called my father was nowhere to be found, in a time I needed him the most.

Next thing I remember is my adolescent self, a thin and scrawny lad, roaming in the dusty roads of Cairo. I remember how my elder sister used to wake me up and get me ready for school, get done with the household chores and then in the evenings tell me stories about my mother: How she used to be adored by the entire village, how people looked upon her as an angel. A selfless woman, a devoted nurse who was never too busy to help and what a staunch humanitarian she was. How she coped with a failure of a husband and a subdued married life. How she never returned after she went searching for her lost child in the great floods, when I was only five years old.

My mother always said that every person has a guardian angel looking upon them, guarding them, nurturing and nourishing them. Mine just happened to be nearer to God than most others…

My father, on the other hand was a spineless, characterless craven. He couldn’t provide for us and his textile business was always in recurrent loss. I remember the day when I was at college and a friend came running to me saying that my father had been shot. He died four days later and his funeral went unattended by his only living son.

It was august I remember,
The august of 1952..”

“I was dead. Three years of detention at Cairo central prison’s crematorium had made me so. My daily routine was unloading dead bodies, mostly rebels and arm-smugglers like me, from a hand-cranked elevator into the pits. I often recognized their faces but I felt nothing, no sorrow, no pain, no emotions, empathy, despair or desertion. All I felt was a void inside me, an inherent emptiness that proliferated with each passing day..

Then one day, I saw my mother. I am not sure it was her, there is no way I can be absolutely certain, but still I’d like to believe it was her. She tenderly touched my head and in a soft but lucid voice told me, “Son.. I’m sending you an angel..”

I woke up astonished and realized that I just had a dream, a beautiful dream. But as is their nature, they are shattered before we can even soak and revel in their warmth, let alone be realized. And this place was such where there could exist no angels, only hunger and fear and travesty and Death..

Two days later, I was walking near the edge of the compound, the sun had just retrieved its fiery blazing claws and a tepid breeze was blowing through the billets, making the air dusty. It was then, that I saw a vague figure in the distance, its form was indistinct but it looked human. It came closer and only when the breeze died down, could I make out that it was a little girl. A girl with golden locks, wearing a frilled white frock…

She was hiding behind an old birch tree, and all I could see from the distance was that she was scared. I called out to her in Hebrew and asked if she had something to eat. She didn’t reply at first, maybe she didn’t hear me, but I couldn’t possibly raise my voice any higher lest I attract the attention of the guards.

I inched ahead, getting closer to the barb-wired fence and was about to repeat myself when she stepped forward. She was lean and gaunt but her eyes… her eyes had magic… they were fearless, they had hope and rapture and in them I saw life.. in them, I saw my mother’s soul..

She took out a loaf of bread and threw it over the fence. I grabbed it and as I started to run away, I heard her say faintly, "I'll see you tomorrow." I returned to the same spot by the fence at the same time every day, when the guards used to change shifts. She was always there with something for me to eat - a hunk of bread or, better yet, an apple. We didn't dare speak or linger. To be caught would mean death for us both. I didn't know anything about her, just a kind farm girl, except that she understood Hebrew. What was her name? Why was she risking her life for me? Was she the angel my mother spoke about?
Hope was in such short supply, and this girl on the other side of the fence always gave me some, as nourishing in its way as the bread and apples…

***

Nearly seven months passed, and in course of this unusual correspondence, I started feeling alive again. I experienced joy, exaltation, courage and hope; gratuity and love towards the godsend angel I had come to know..

It was august I remember, and we were informed that the enemy was at the gates and all possible witnesses had to be dealt with quickly. I was to be executed at the break of dawn.

"Don't return," I told the girl that day. "We're leaving." I turned towards the stockades and didn't look back, didn't even say good-bye to the little girl whose name I'd never learned, the girl with the bread and apples. But while I was on my way, I heard something, and it was divine. It was the rumble of an approaching thunderstorm. It was strange, because somehow, it made me feel strong. I looked back at the girl and she was standing there. Alone. In the darkness and desertion. She was looking at me, I couldn’t see her eyes in the darkness, but I felt it. Her gaze was fixed upon me and I stood there hypnotized by it. And amidst the thunder, I heard a soft snivel, a gasp, a whimper, its nature indiscernible due to the clamor of the storm. But yet I heard it. Then it rained, it rained as if God had decided to vanquish the entire Hell-fire with one swift shower. I soaked in it and reveled in the sublime bliss, drenched by the nectar falling from the heavens...

My mother used to say, that God was in the rain, and that the fragrant whiff of the impending rains, is actually the scent of God. I guess she was right, because the tears of this angel were compelling enough to make even the heavens weep..

I stood there enraptured, thinking that in a few hours, I was to be reunited with my mother, crying tears of elation in the rains, when one mighty thunderous bolt of lightning struck the giant Iron Gate and flung it open. The inmates seized the opportunity and fled for their lives.

That day I understood one very important thing.. that there is no certainty, only opportunity.”

“What might be your good name young lass?”
“Suha, Suha Tawil. I’m a nurse at the..”
“Tawil? You’re a Palestinian?”
“Yes.. but we moved out of Jerusalem long back during the wars, and settled in..”
“So, why are you interested in joining the liberation front?”
“My mother always said that no good deed goes unnoticed and no bad deed goes unpunished. My aim is to serve justice..”

Those words hit me hard. It was as if a ghost from the past had suddenly come alive. She had a reminiscent expression on her face but I just couldn’t recollect where I had seen it.. even her eyes looked familiar, too familiar..

“Where was it exactly that your family moved to?”
“Oh yes.. we moved to a small cattle farm near Cairo. My father ran a flour mill and my mother used to work at a bakery. I was only a child then but even now, I can clearly recollect the horrible condition of our people locked up in the prisons. It was then that I had resolved to always work for the betterment of humankind and..”

Her words were eluding me as my senses ceased to function.. my heart was heavy and my eyes doused with tears. I couldn’t believe it, I just couldn’t. After so many years I had finally stumbled upon my guardian angel, in this alien land. I stood up and hugged her, kissed her forehead as she sprang back, astonished at my unwelcome display of affection.

“Are you all right, Sir?” she asked, rather flustered.

I tried to compose myself to the best of my abilities, but I just couldn’t. And with a heavily choked up throat, replied: “You may not remember me, but for me you are no less than an angel.. and I thought I had lost you forever, but I promise, from the very depth of my heart I promise, I will never let go of you again.. never..”

“The Israeli militants had found us. We were organizing a PLO meeting and the hall was filled with Palestinians. They quarantined me and took her away. I feared the worst. In all probability she was dead and even if she wasn’t, it wasn’t long before she would be lynched…

I felt vacuous, vapid, my head dizzy with neurotic throbbing tending to annihilate it to smithereens. But even then, with whatever sense that remained, the only thing I thought about, was her.. I could feel her, sense her, smell her, hear her but only I couldn’t see her.. it was as if my mind was ready to surrender to the inescapable truth but my heart fervidly refused..

It was like the feeling you have, in those few anxious seconds, when you just see your little child fall down from a staircase or a bicycle..

You know she’s hurt, you know she’s dazed and torpid and benumbed, lying lifelessly on the turf and probably is going through the worst misery of her little life but then, an inch of you believes that she’s just fine, that God rested his mighty and caring hand on her shoulders and saved her from the inevitable peril that awaited her..

It was three hours of absolute agony and anguish before the rescuers found me and that was when the lights went out..

I woke up as if in a fugue, without any sense of where I was or what time or day it was.

They told me I had been gone for four days, and that all attempts to find her had failed, revealing only lacunas.

It was six in the evening and I could hear distant rumbling, resonating in the air. I asked the nurse whether any bombs had gone off lately. She very nonchalantly and in a tone bestowed only upon seasoned nurses, said that it was about to rain, like it had incessantly, for the past four days..

And I don’t know why, it’s not as if I believe in weather forecasts, but I instantly turned the TV on and put on the news. They were not showing weather maps or cloud formations. Instead they were showing how an unidentified woman had freed herself from the mob and had jumped out of their jeep en route the A39, near North Cornwall. All they showed was a blurred scathed face, its color incomprehensible due to the grayscale imagery. I couldn’t make out whether it was her, I couldn’t make out whether she was Jew or British, I couldn’t make out whether she was white or black, I couldn’t even make out whether she was coming through or dying… all that I could make out, was that she was crying…

And that night… it rained, like it had never before on the gleaming streets of London…”

~***~

This passionate and heart touching memoir, to be shortly published by Orient Publications, has been aptly titled:

“How to make someone read your blog while keeping them under the impression that it’s a nifty and inspirational biographical account of a Nobel laureate’s life, when actually it’s just another random and outlandish creation of your demented mind!!”

VNDVA

2008-08-28T15:08:00.000-07:00

P and I are lying on the upper berth of a packed train. Her head’s resting on my shoulder and mine’s resting on hers, while our bodies are contorted in a manner that would put Russian gymnasts to shame.

We are listening to the Backstreet Boys crooning “I want it that way..”

O yeah.. like I sure do..

Meanwhile, we discuss our plans for the weekend, and I tell her that am planning to watch Bachna Ae Haseeno that day..

She falls asleep shortly after. I look at my watch and along with the time, notice the date.. 15.08.08..

Independence Day.. I change the track to “Maa Tujhe Salaam” by A.R. Rahman.

And instinctively, I start getting faint memories of the times, when as a kid, the 15th of August meant so much more to me than just a mere holiday. The Flag hoisting at school, singing the National Anthem amidst the choir, saluting the revered Saffron White and Green.. it all had such a fervor, something that’s completely faded away now.

I remembered how after coming back home from school, we all used to sit together and watch Gandhi or Bhagat Singh or Tiranga or Krantiveer on the telly.. and now.. Bachna Ae Haseeno?? Sheesh…

I enter the hall and a pleasant surprise awaits.. “Jana Gana Mana” is being played onscreen on the behest of the Supreme Court. A feeling of déjà-vu engulfs me, as we all stand up and sing along, while three youths stay put on their seats, coz their laps are too occupied with trays full of Colas and Burgers.. and by the time they do manage to get up, the 52 seconds are already over.

They proudly cheer “Jai Hind!” to exhibit their patriotism and all they get is a contemptuous look from the light-man. These ‘deshbhakts’ happened to enlighten me a lot about my country during the course of the movie. Hence, I would be referring to them as Patriot #1, 2 and 3 hereon…

An hour and a half into the movie, and they show the protagonist (won’t use the word “Hero” here, coz that would be highly demeaning in the context..) living in Australia. He works for Microsoft, earns unaccountably, sleeps with enough girls to spend half his savings on latex.. the perks et al.

“Dude!! that’s the life..” exclaims Patriot #1.

“He sure’s one lucky bastard..” says Patriot #2.

Meanwhile, the protagonist claims.. “Once you start living in this country, there’s no other place in the world that you could possibly adjust to.. blaah.. blaah.. blaah.. Everything about this place rocks.. Sydney rocks..”

As if....

“He sure does know his geography..” remarks Patriot #wateva..

Come to think of it, these are the same people, who were singing our national anthem so proudly (??) just a while back. And now they are ashamed of their very nationality. As if being a parasite to your nation is a ticket to “Cooldom”…

ZEITGEIST

Have you ever wondered why you find a joke funny?
Or why you get happy, thinking of the Easter bunny?
Why you sympathize with a story’s characters?
Or why you squirm while watchin’ Fear Factor?
Why you have tears in your eyes, when a hero dies at the end?
Or why your heart aches, when he loses his girlfriend?
Why a murder mystery, arouses thrill and suspicion?
Or why you become a kid, while watchin’ a magician?
Why lengthy romantic novels, make us swoon?
Or why you cavort ritualistically, whilst listenin’ a peppy tune?

The elements of the human mind, although can’t be predicted,
But one thing is clear, that we are all addicted,
To a world of fantasy, charm and disbelief
That sells us happiness and vends us grief..
And fills our heads with queer notions,
Wearing a masquerade of forged emotions..
We understand, it’s all a sham and a mere hoax,
Yet keep on consuming the Macs’ and the Cokes’
We think like the tube, we speak what it tells,
We wear what it vaunts and eat what it sells..
Tube is the gospel, tube’s the doctrine
Libraries are for nerds, malls are our shrine

People discussin’ Politics, are branded “uncool”,
While whose dating whom, is what’s discussed in schools..
Watchin’ the K-soaps, filled with conspiracies and deceits,
Or movies that patronize, the Romeos on the streets..
Newspapers we’d like to read, but only for the lack of time
Just go through the headlines, not caring for what’s inside.
While the coMEDIAns keep on showing us murders and rapes,
Or illicit acts of depraved celebs, caught “EXCLUSIVEly” on tape..

All of this’ just to keep us entertained, so we don’t do much thinking,
So that no eyebrows are raised, as the stock ex keeps sinking..
So that Nuclear deals get signed, without public consent,
So that soldiers keep on dying, without a trace of repent,
So that the blood flowing in the streets, goes uninvestigated,
So that inadvertently, bullion keeps rising, the markets get inflated..
We leave the police to deal with the muggers and the squatters,
While keepin’ ourselves busy, in the Archie’s and the Potters’..

Why, we believe such lies (read: NEWS), aired on a telly,
That insurgents were collared, plannin’ to blow up Delhi..
But their identities aren’t revealed, jus’ their pictures
Along with the word “TERRORIST”, are printed in the news-scriptures.
All just to contaminate our minds with hatred and rage,
So that wars on our neighbor, can be undisputedly staged..
So that we forget, people on the other side, also value life,
And just like us, are pawns debased by politicians’ strife..

We all know, things are bad, that they need to be changed,
That the prevailing political system needs to be rearranged,
We can all easily deliver, meticulous lengthy lectures,
Upon our loop holed economic, or penal architecture.
But actually, that’s not the way it’s supposed to be,
What talking has achieved to date, is for yourself to see..

And I ain’t askin’ you to revolt, or ignite a revolution,
Or go out there and challenge the constitution,
Nor beat the hell outta’ every corrupt cop,
Or even go on a picketing hunger strike, nonstop..
All I want is that you look yourself in the eyes and ask,
Who are you really kidding, hiding under this mask?
To proclaim to this world, that your life has a meaning,
That you can no longer be duped, you are no longer a weenie..

To understand that the power lies in your very hands,
That you won’t allow any MNC to reap off your lands,
To ask pointed questions and demand direct answers,
To cure your motherland from this political cancer..
To change yourself first, before questioning others,
That irrespective of religion, we are all maternal brothers..
These divides were strategized by the Men behind the curtain,
To con us, mislead us and make their ballots certain..

To stop thinkin’ bout the ‘I’, rather care about the ‘We’,
To no longer be a slave to such spiteful hypocrisy..
To really mean it when we say, we are proud of our nation,
Goddamnit, it’s our own home and cleansing it, is OUR obligation..

aiSAE hi..

2008-05-22T23:52:00.000-07:00

Disclaimer: All events and happenings in the following content is purely fictitious, imaginary and made up. Any resemblance to a person living or dead, especially Steve Jobs, for instance, is purely co-incidental. It’s purely a byproduct of an idle mind subjected to overexposure of this video:

http://news-service.stanford.edu/news/2005/june15/videos/51.html

Reader’s discretion is advised.

Dear diary,

Today was hectic as hell. My day started at 3:15 in the morning/night at the Ranchi station and I didn’t get a moments rest after that.
After a whole day of sweating it out in the sun to man our car’s stall at the convo, all we got was a nod of appreciation from the governor and a free lunch, which was meant actually for staffs and their families. That, to a large extent explained the disgusted looks on a teacher’s face whenever we greeted one.
The much awaited VC’s speech was lethargic and languid as nobody gave a damn ‘bout what the old hog muttered.. I mean, the alumni coming in from the length and breadth of the country and even abroad, deserved more than just a complementary dinner and an enduring ceremony.
Hope my convo is better.. much better than this.. Maybe one day I’ll get invited at our junior’s convo to egg them on for their forthcoming life. Maybe…

“I am honored to be with you today at your commencement from one of the finest universities in the world. Today I want to tell you three stories from my life. That's it. No big deal. Just three stories.

The first story is about connecting the dots.

An IIT engineer was at the pier of a small coastal Bengali village, when a small boat with just one fisherman, docked. Inside the small boat were several large Hilsa. The IITian complimented the fisherman on the quality of his fish and asked how long it took to catch them. The fisherman replied, "Only a little while, babu…"

The IITian then asked, "Why didn't you stay out longer and catch more fish?"
The fisherman said he had enough to support his family's immediate needs.
The IITian then asked, "But what do you do with the rest of your time?"

The Bengali fisherman said, “Beshi kicchu na.. dupoor barota ghoom theke oothi.., taarpore ektoo machh dhoree.. baachader shonge ektu khela kori.. ranna-tanna kore bou shonge aabar ektu ghumoi..”
“Shondhe bela uthe ektu gaon ghure aashi, bondhu der shonge cha-ta khai.. kirket (sic) er kotha kori.. jeebon ae aar kichu chai na.. joto aache.. tai khoob..”

(“I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, take siesta with my wife, stroll into the village each evening where I sip tea and discuss cricket (kirket??!!) with my friends. I have a full and busy life..”)

The IITian scoffed, "I am an IIT engineer and could help you. You should spend more time fishing and with the proceeds, buy a bigger boat and with the proceeds from the bigger boat you could buy several boats, eventually you would have a fleet of fishing boats. Instead of selling your catch to a middleman you would sell directly to the processor, eventually opening your own cannery. You would control the product, processing and distribution. You can then leave this small coastal fishing village and move to Kolkata, then Bombay and eventually the US where you will run your expanding enterprise."

The fisherman asked, “Kintu.. ae shob korar jonne.. koto shomoy laagbe??”
(“But, how long will all this take?")

To which the IITian replied, "15-20 years."

“ Taarpore?" (“But what then?”)

The IITian grinned triumphantly and said, "That's the best part. When the time is right you would announce an IPO and sell your company stock to the public and become very rich, you would earn in crores."

"Crores ?? Then what?"

The IITan said, "Then you would retire. Move to a small coastal fishing village where you would sleep late, fish a little, play with your kids, take siesta with your wife, stroll to the village in the evenings where you could sip tea and discuss cricket with your friends…."

So as you see, planning too far ahead will land you nowhere.. you are going to end up at square one..
You can't change the past, but you can ruin the present by worrying over the future. Once again, you can't connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something — your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. This approach has never let me down, and it has made all the difference in my life.

My second story is about love and loss.

I had participated in an extempore once in this very college and the topic given to me was..
“All’s well, that doesn’t end well”.

On the outset, I was quite puzzled as to what should I say on such an inane topic that would be meaningful enough to land me podium position. I had only a minute to think up my points and for the initial forty seconds or so, I must say, was totally blank..
Then, I just aimlessly looked around the hall, and my eyes fell on one of my friends, and that was when I realized the actuality of the topic. Here’s what I said…

“Most of us, who have ever experienced the feeling of being in love, would know that love and loss are inseparable like two sides of a coin. They say that if you are lucky, you get your first love and luckier, if you don’t…

By the way, the unlucky ones are those who never really fall in love..

Anyways, going back to the saying, when we are in love, all our emotions, right from anger to joy and anxiety to elation, are connected to that one special person or thing. Without them, life looks meaningless and emotionless. Daily activities such as eating, sleeping and even recreation become irrelevant. So, I can safely say that love is what gives life its purpose.

But the amazing thing is that whenever we encounter loss in love, above all what we lose is this purpose. There’s no denying it, we all feel it. Even I did. I felt very bad at that point of time. In fact, to put it mildly, I was devastated..

But then I thought, there is a reason for this suffering. Maybe destiny has bigger things in store for me and maybe this little relationship was just a rounding error compared to the other mishaps I would have to face in life. Losing what we love is never the end of life.. it’s actually the beginning, coz that is when we understand that god has enough faith in us to let us handle our problems alone.
So, remember that all may not be well at the end, but believe that if all’s not well, then it’s not the end….. Picture abhi baaki hai mere dossst..!!”

Cheesy.. I must admit, but if you are wondering, then well I didn’t land a spot among the top three mainly due to two reasons, firstly, I exceeded the time limit and secondly my voice was incomprehensible due to excessive maniacal whooping the previous night!!
Anyways that’s not the point. The point is that ifs and buts shouldn’t have a place in our lives.
You've got to find what you love. And that is as true for your work as it is for your lovers. As with all matters of the heart, you'll know when you find it. And, like any great relationship, it just gets better and better as the years roll on. So keep looking until you find it. Don't settle.

My third story is about death.

One of my friends once told me an experience she had, which a lot us would’ve had in our childhood. At that moment, it was something of little value to me, but it was only when I experienced something similar, that I understood how invaluable it was…

Here’s what she said….

“When I was little... the first time that I rode a bicycle......my sister ran alongside, holding the seat.
Listen to me, na... she was running alongside...
...and I kept turning back, asking...

'Di, are you there?
Di, are you there? '
She said 'You've got to look ahead... look ahead.'

After a few moments I turned my head again to see...
...that she was standing quite a distance away, smiling.

And… and I had learned to ride a bicycle!!
I'll never forget that day. Never, you know…”

“The amazing thing is, I got to relive that day...
Only this time I was holding the seat...
...and my lil’ sis was riding the bicycle.

"No... no turning back...
Look ahead. Look ahead.'

'Di, are you there?
Di, are you there? '

And I let go…..
When she turned back and looked at me......she was smiling…. Just like you are…”

We laughed the moment off, but, later it made me think… how many such days do I remember?

The first time I bunked school? The first time I had a fight?

My first time on stage?

The first time I held a girl's hand? My first kiss? My first love?

How many such days??

Twenty years of existence and just 20 days of life??

It's these precious moments that constitute a life....that transform the mundane into the unforgettable...

When we grow old, it’s only these few special days that remain etched in our memories…. The rest just somehow, fade away….

What’s the point of just whiling the days away, when they don’t leave a mark on our or anyone else’s lives..

We are remembered by the gifts that we leave behind for our loved ones… and not by what we amassed for ourselves.. Are you aware that if we died tomorrow, the company that we are working for would easily replace us in a matter of days. But the family we left behind will feel the loss for the rest of their lives. And come to think of it, we pour ourselves more into work than to our own family; an unwise investment indeed, don't you think?

In conclusion all I will say is, there is no reason not to follow your heart. Count your blessings, not your troubles. Within you are so many answers, understand, have courage, be strong. Learn to be responsible for your decisions. And above all, Life, is not a race, as people generally tag it, coz when you run so fast to get somewhere, you miss half the fun of getting there. …

“Life is short, do take it slower..
Hear the music, before the song’s over..”

THANK YOU…..”

***

The dreadful buzzing of the mosquitoes woke me up. I checked my watch which said 03:34.
Nice dream, I thought as I removed my sweaty head from the table and slowly realized that we had an all-too-frequent-power-outage in our beloved hostel.

This, is what passion for something does to you. But I don’t regret. Least of all it gave me four hours of intense sleep, something which I had been deprived of for quite some time now. Only.. if I could get rid of this horrible back pain now..

EXPERIMENT No. - 3

2008-03-13T04:32:00.000-07:00

AIM: To determine tissue count, under standard conditions, in patience testing equipment

APPARATUS:

One Computer

A Net connection

One Box of Tissues

Electricity (if in B.I.T. pls don't read during exam time.....)

Lot's of Patience (may as well call it as how to waste 15 mins. behind a measly web-page!!!)

PROCEDURE:

We first check and see if anybody was around, and if found were kicked out.

The door was firmly latched, mobiles switched off and all active chat windows were closed.

The box of tissues was carefully opened.

Read along..........

“Don’t, please don’t leave”, I said
Flashing a somnolent smile, she shook her head,

“I have to, my folks are waitin’..
”only a matter of two days”, she said contemplatin’.

"Eons would end before these two days do,
how, just how do you expect me to live without you?”

“Just try n understand, you have to lemme go”
And as she voiced those words, I spoke no more.

Leaving her nestled hand, placing It where it belonged
I took two steps back, as the silence prolonged.

As she forged a smile, her puckered lips unfurled and bent,
In an expression that said cheerio, I’ll miss you, she meant…

I walked away from her till into the horizon her shadows strew,
And when I checked my phone, an unread message was due.
“ u cud hv said gdbye” it read,
“well… I wasn’t ready….” I said.

crickets crooning in a concert a lonely moon lit up the night sky,
I messaged that reminiscent number Which read ”chk ur mail.. bbye :)”

PART ONE: THE PANEGYRIC

Her breath had no longer the warmth
The glint in her eyes was doused,
Enveloped in the eternal sleep
In a casket she was housed.

There she lay, With A white lily in her palms
And a placid smile on her face,
Adorned in an angels gown
An epitome of beauty, serenity and grace..

Even the heavens were in mourning
the horizon was cloaked with snow,
and as a token of their lament
a branch flittered down the cypress bough.

The silence was screeching in my ears
All around me people were whining,
Seeking alleviation I looked skywards
Clouds aplenty, but alas, there was no silver lining.

The final nail in the coffin was to be struck,
The last remaining rights had been read,
The bishop beckoned to eulogize the deceased
Ignoring her kinsmen, I was called upon instead..

“I refuse to eulogize my beloved
Coz eulogizing her would be accepting her death,
In every pulse I can feel her love,
Her fragrance still lingers in my every breath”
“her love’s been like the guiding star
In the dark and lonely night,
Death’s a transition, the soul is eternal
Her memories shall forever show me the light”
“And of what basis is our religion
About which we so proudly boast,
Burying a body after death,
Is there no difference between a human and compost”

Tears welled up in my eyes
My voice could no longer succor my emotions,
Gasping incessantly I was, at the pain
of being Separated from my lifelong devotion……

As I sat deluded by the carriage window
Staring aimlessly at the desolate scenery,
With a carpet of fallen leaves beneath me
But devoid of even a trace of greenery

While in my heart I prayed to god
please give her back to me
for just one more day,
if you then sentence me to a thousand deaths,
then so you very well may

one day, to relish true love’s one last kiss
all that I ask for is one more chance
to clasp her in my arms and hug her,
to cherish her innocent giggles and maybe, that one last dance.

To profess my undying love for her
just one more day, that’s all I am asking from you
and while in course of my thoughts
I was engulfed in a deep sense of déjà vu….

PART TWO: NOSTALGIA

The day’s as fresh in my mind as yesterday,
memories that instinctively light up my face,
the day when life looked so beautiful,
the day when all seemingly fell into place.

the day when each passing second was a lifetime,
a lifetime fulla’ joy and pleasure
the day when love looked viable,
the day I so fondly treasure.

The day we both were on the stage
Dramatizing eternal lovers of yore,
The day when I could say the unsaid
A day from which I could ask no more!

The setting was surreal, the décor extravagant
The apparel was unthrifty,
Only a handful teams were to be chosen
Out of more than a fifty .

To the almighty they all plead
“let us through god, for the sake of our schools reputation”
While I for one, was nurturing love in my heart,
In midst of all the anxiety and anticipation.

“O savior of the underdogs, The messiah of benevolence
Thou haft the might to upturn raging tides,
How arduous is it for you To variegate a scroll thence?”
“all I ask you for O omnipotent is an opportunity,
To subsist with my beloved another vesper,
To take her in my arms and sing the enchanted ditty”
“I don’t solicit a victory,
all my heart craves for is another day,
to say to her what I rehearse in my dreams,
to posses her an ephemeral, is all that I pray!”

but I’d preceded our prestige with my love
in a bid to be among the elite six,
guilt and shame engulfed me thereafter,
I felt like Judas facing a crucifix...

The awaited results begun to be announced
Relinquishing the anguish lasting hours,
“Please, o almighty just this one time” I plead
And lo! By gods grace, the sixth name was ours!

Thanking god I glanced her way,
as I ogled at her visage metamorphose
From pensive to elated, she capered with joy,
As if heckling the also-rans, who stood counting their toes!

At her I gazed, dazed and amazed
Like a child in an unmanned candy store,
she pranced around as though giddy with exult,
Like a cloud my heart begun to soar.

I stood stupefied by the sheen of her radiance
Hoping may this moment never end,
Her numinous beauty and enchanting charisma
Were singing a thousand ballads in my head...

she placed a soft, smoky glance on me
with her eyes all inquisitive,
with such innocence she asked, “what happen’d?”
that there wasn’t a answer I could give.

I yearned to hug her, caress her
More than anything I had ever desired,
My lips, incapable to voice my emotions
Finally blurted “I’m just tired!”

She nodded her head and gently smiled
As I tried to return the favor,
“I’m so happy to see you happy” I mumbled
But She was talking with her neighbor….

The final hour of performance had arrived
The pageant was ‘bout to culminate,
On his deathbed lay Romeo
While his darling sniveled at their fate..

The milieu was somber, lighting mellow
the ambience laden with fog,
while In midst of her colloquy, convulsions struck her
As if her lungs were choked with smog.

The wind got knocked outta’ her
Unable to draw in a single breath,
Her tears trickling into my gaping mouth
Were enough to awaken me from death..

I embraced her cheeks with my palms
Into her petrified eyes I gazed,
Disregarding the scenario, I began speaking
Leaving the judges cynical and audience amazed

My touch allayed her furrowed brow
as she firmly clasped my arms,
her eyes plead
“don’t let go off me, unfetter me of my qualm”

“dry your tears, O my dear
Let the gasping cease,
Death’s all but a steppingstone
Into the heavenly seas..
Our Love’s eternal, and can be killed by no
Venom nor barbaric knife,
If not in this then perhaps another,
We shall be together in life..”

“Like the expanse of the cosmos
And the depth of an abyss,
My love for you is infinite,
Loves my religion, reverie my worship
And you dear, are my Aphrodite”

"I’ve forever adored you o precious
From the day our eyes first met…..”
overcome by the sway of the moment I took her name,
instead of saying Juliet!!

Astounded, dumbfounded, enchanted she sat,
I veneered my words with a kiss,
She kissed me back and drenched me with love,
As I reveled in heavenly bliss………

PART THREE: ENLIGHTENMENT

The buggy braked abruptly with a jerk
Rousing me from my trance,
As the child sitting in front of me
Gave me a weepy glance..

His father gently held his hand
As they both got up to leave,
The child picked up a gift-wrapped box,
And wiped his eyes with his sleeve.

As he quietly made his way out
He glanced my way again,
And I felt as if, of all people
This kid could best feel my pain..

I looked outside and what I saw
Was like a painting come alive,
Upon a frozen lake, sat a solitary lass,
Fishing in the hostile clime’!

She was humming an elusive tune
was draped in a woolen tog,
Her little fingers sculpted the snow
While her pole rested on a log

A startling shriek broke the lull
As her slackened thread got taut,
She sprang into action perfervidly,
Winding the reel on the pivot..

Her face dazzling with diligent zeal
As if granted a lifelong wish,
She frantically whirled the crank around,
Expecting a swarm of fish..

She frolicked at her trivial catch,
Like a flower in full bloom..
While on the other side of the lake
Life looked engulfed in gloom...

The lad meandered his way through,
Where ice gave way to slush.
He stumbled and fumbled all along
Like a cripple without a crutch.

he snugly held the box with him
as if embracing its contents,
while his father steadily guided him,
wherever those young legs went.

he stopped near a hoary rock,
and upon it placed the box,
while a gentle breeze, to dry his tears
caressed his golden locks...

he took out a glassy pitcher from it
which had a speck of gold,
it glimmered and floated all about
like an ember getting cold.

his hands trembled at its sight
I could faintly hear him gasp,
His father overcome with apprehension
Freed it from his clasp.

He filled up the remaining half with water
And said a silent prayer..
While the boy stared at the golden speck
With eyes full of despair..

Those haunting eyes that said so much,
What words can never say,
The gaff of death impaled his soft heart
Flooding it with dismay...

The glass coffin was placed in water
And nudged along the sleet,
Like a sinking ship it tumbled beneath
the frozen white sheet...

opposite to him the little girl,
stood still like a stave,
as she watched the little goldfish descend,
into its watery grave..

her puerile glee gave way to remorse
her eyes were doused with tears,
in moments she had acquired the wisdom,
we fail to learn in years...

true love is not always holding back,
sometimes its setting ’em free..
if they come back then very well rejoice,
or else they never belonged to thee..

she gently stroked the limpid fish,
wriglin’ and wigglin’ with all its might,
and unflinchingly dropped it back in water
waving her hands in delight...

My heart was aching, my vision blurred
inside me I felt weak..
a gust of wind felt particularly cold
along two lines on my cheeks...

once again I wept uninhibited
but this time with more joy than sorrow,
enlightened by the experience I felt,
torn between the pages of yesterday and tomorrow..

In life, we have to let our beloveds go
coz if not us, someday they have to,
we all enter into this world crying,
try and leave this world cryin’ behind you…….

The next morn’ I was welcomed back, with an unexpected sight
She stood beside my college gate, pensive and uptight.

I sneaked behind her and greeted her, with my mobile beep
She smiled at me, amazed, with eyes devoid of sleep.

“I read your mail over and over, and I cried all the way,
When I said ,let me go, that’s not what I meant to say!”

“Well.. a girl’s mind like the exchange, is somethin’ no one can predict,
What they say and what they actually mean, may very well contradict!!”

She smiled as if, concurrently complimented and condemned,
And said “ All night long, a question bugged me to no end….”

“Are you actually ready to bid adieu, to finally let go of me?”
With unparalleled nonchalance I replied “Well no...... I never will be”

Her lips were quivering and with her breath heaving
She said, “you no longer have to, coz I ain’t leaving….”

OBSERVATIONS:

The number of tissues consumed was found to be = ______

(no manipulations please..)

COMMENTS AND CONCLUSIONS:

To be written in comment box, plzzzzzz..

Happy Birthday!!

2008-02-14T14:06:00.000-08:00

If I told you a girl, whose smile’s like a riff
Short sweet rhythmic and yet stiff
It sways you of your feet and lands you on the moon,
You think you are the king of the world
and yet, no better than a loon….

When sighted from a distance you ponder
Is it me or is it someone else yonder,
Who got the coveted prize of a resplendent smile,
one that resembles a star spangled sky on a moonless night
courteous coaxing carefree coy makes you forget the world defile……

a smile that can be as inviting as a lemon tart
and yet can be colder than the devils heart
a smile that has the power to hale and heal,
the might to melt a despot, dethrone a tyrant, dreck a diamond
dimples that demean your demeanor, a shimmer so surreal…..

dazzling, snazzy, gleaming, beaming,
a twinkle, a glimmer, a spangle, a shimmer,
a glint, a sheen, dazzles umpteen,
scintillatingly phosphorescent, radiant and fulgurant
as transparent as a raindrop, of effeminate charisma
yet shrouded with mystery, a perplexing enigma

like the warmth disseminated by a smoldering hearth
like the fragrant whiff of raindrops caressing the parched earth
like the waves that moisten your face as they crash ashore
like listening the giggles of someone you adore
like the sunshine glistering through the autumn trees
like unfolding an ancient map, all yellow and creased
like finding loose change in an old pair of jeans
like discovering a picture of your parents in their teens
like the gentle touch of a swaying feather
a smile that’s more than all of this put together…..

TENSILE STRENGTH ANALYSIS:

2008-01-26T23:59:00.000-08:00

Life as we call it is kinda funny, more like a reality show on the chatterbox…coz sumtimes its events can get so zany, so hilarious, so nerve wrecking, so dumbfounding, so annoying , so absolutely unfathomable… that it becomes kinda hard to believe that it’s all happening for real…

Well no point in beating bout the bush…case in point is a recent trip that me n my mates had to my friends place….

A recent trip that me n my mates had to my friend’s place which had 14 absolute lunatics in it….

A recent trip that me n my mates had to my friends place which had 14 absolute lunatics in it who ate like crazy and screeched as if the world was comin to an end….

A recent trip that me n my mates had to my friends place which had 14 absolute lunatics in it who ate like crazy and screeched as if the world was comin to an end and all of them being transported in a buggy vehicle meant to seat 8( well..Uh…legally speakin..!)….

A recent trip that me n my mates had to my friends place which had 14 absolute lunatics in it who ate like crazy and screeched as if the world was comin to an end and all of them being transported in a buggy vehicle meant to seat 8 n who shot pics as if they were auditioning for some Bhojpuri version of F.R.I.E.N.D.S.….

A recent trip that me n my mates had to my friends place which had 14 absolute lunatics in it who ate like crazy and screeched as if the world was comin to an end and all of them being transported in a buggy vehicle meant to seat 8 n who shot pics as if they were auditioning for some Bhojpuri version of F.R.I.E.N.D.S. and who killed 5 hours under the label of “havin a rockin time” by playing games with conveniently tweaked rules, some that our granddads would have played when they were in kindergarten… and by discovering newer ways of pestering their pals.….

A recent trip that me n my mates had to my friends place which had 14 absolute lunatics in it who ate like crazy and screeched as if the world was comin to an end and all of them being transported in a buggy vehicle meant to seat 8 n who shot pics as if they were auditioning for some Bhojpuri version of F.R.I.E.N.D.S and who killed 5 hours under the label of “havin a rockin time” by playing games with conveniently tweaked rules, some that our granddads would have played when they were in kindergarten, and by discovering newer ways of pestering their pals, which resulted in some niggling tantrums and some impromptu “roothna manaana” , filled with such hopeless pj’s and one liners that even Siddhu couldn’t force a giggle outta them.….

A recent trip that me n my mates had to my friends place which had 14 absolute lunatics in it who ate like crazy and screeched as if the world was comin to an end and all of them being transported in a buggy vehicle meant to seat 8 n who shot pics as if they were auditioning for some Bhojpuri version of F.R.I.E.N.D.S and who killed 5 hours under the label of “havin a rockin time” by playing games with conveniently tweaked rules, some that our granddads would have played when they were in kindergarten, and by discovering newer ways of pestering their pals, which resulted in some niggling tantrums and some impromptu “roothna manaana” , filled with such hopeless pj’s and one liners that even Siddhu couldn’t force a giggle outta them, and that in midst of it all we forgot that we had to return to our entrapments by 5:30 and that by the time we finally got some sense knocked in our heads it was already 5:00 .….

A recent trip that me n my mates had to my friends place which had 14 absolute lunatics in it who ate like crazy and screeched as if the world was comin to an end and all of them being transported in a buggy vehicle meant to seat 8 n who shot pics as if they were auditioning for some Bhojpuri version of F.R.I.E.N.D.S and who killed 5 hours under the label of “havin a rockin time” by playing games with conveniently tweaked rules, some that our granddads would have played when they were in kindergarten, and by discovering newer ways of pestering their pals, which resulted in some niggling tantrums and some impromptu “roothna manaana” , filled with such hopeless pj’s and one liners that even Siddhu couldn’t force a giggle outta them, and that in midst of it all we forgot that we had to return to our entrapments by 5:30 and that by the time we finally got some sense knocked in our heads it was already 5:00 and then, when we had to pick two of our people up, n while we were waitin, we ran into some drunk with bloodshot eyes who thought that clearing all traffic hold ups was at his beckoning, and when one of us guys tried to reason he very “politely” enlightened him about his relations with his daughter and sister .….

A recent trip that me n my mates had to my friends place which had 14 absolute lunatics in it who ate like crazy and screeched as if the world was comin to an end and all of them being transported in a buggy vehicle meant to seat 8 n who shot pics as if they were auditioning for some Bhojpuri version of F.R.I.E.N.D.S and who killed 5 hours under the label of “havin a rockin time” by playing games with conveniently tweaked rules, some that our granddads would have played when they were in kindergarten, and by discovering newer ways of pestering their pals, which resulted in some niggling tantrums and some impromptu “roothna manaana” , filled with such hopeless pj’s and one liners that even Siddhu couldn’t force a giggle outta them, and that in midst of it all we forgot that we had to return to our entrapments by 5:30 and that by the time we finally got some sense knocked in our heads it was already 5:00 and then when we had to pick two of our people up, n while we were waitin, we ran into some drunk with bloodshot eyes who thought that clearing all traffic hold ups was at his beckoning, and when one of us guys tried to reason he very “politely” enlightened him about his relations with his daughter and sister and by the time the two guys retuned twas already 5:30 and that was exactly when that bloody dolt of a driver got a brainwave to stock up on some gas for the journey .….

A recent trip that me n my mates had to my friends place which had 14 absolute lunatics in it who ate like crazy and screeched as if the world was comin to an end and all of them being transported in a buggy vehicle meant to seat 8 n who shot pics as if they were auditioning for some Bhojpuri version of F.R.I.E.N.D.S and who killed 5 hours under the label of “havin a rockin time” by playing games with conveniently tweaked rules, some that our granddads would have played when they were in kindergarten, and by discovering newer ways of pestering their pals, which resulted in some niggling tantrums and some impromptu “roothna manaana” , filled with such hopeless pj’s and one liners that even Siddhu couldn’t force a giggle outta them, and that in midst of it all we forgot that we had to return to our entrapments by 5:30 and that by the time we finally got some sense knocked in our heads it was already 5:00 and then when we had to pick two of our people up, n were waitin, we ran into some drunk with bloodshot eyes who thought that clearing all traffic hold ups was at his beckoning, and when one of us guys tried to reason he very “politely” enlightened him about his relations with his daughter and sister and by the time the two guys retuned twas already 5:30 and that was exactly when that bloody dolt of a driver got a brainwave to stock up on some gas for the journey ,which in turn aggravated the already raging tempers, resulting in some unexpected character shifts…4 guys went off to sleep, one started praying, one said lets return back and stay over at a friends place, one was expressionless, as if under the influence of Pink Floyd-grade weed, the rest, to put it mildly were pensive..while only two of us were engaged in some nonsense banter in a frantic(and pretty useless, must say) bid to lighten the mood, while the hands of the clock hovered dangerously near six ..….

Whatever we said, one thing was clear ….everyone expected the worst…what was to happen was going to be ugly…reputations, prestige, self respect were words long forgotten as the only thing on our minds was what could prevent THE warden from unleashin her full quota of wrath…..

And to know what happened next……..keep watchin this space for more!!!!

Perseverance eh?

Well then…to tell you the truth…nothing bad happened, nobody was scolded, no complains lodged, no suspensions issued, nobody’s folks were called….it all ended just the way it does in those “reality” shows..everyone went back smiling ear to ear, with an experience they could proudly narrate to their grandkids…

Though one thing did become clear….today was a day when the tensile strength of lotsa things were tested…our friendships, our characters, our bonhomy, our tenacity, our vocal chords, our digestive systems….and probably a lot more…but one thing that did pass the test easily, proving to be THE MOST TENSILE among all of this was the rules, here at B.I.T.!!!

P.S. :If the term Tensile Strength ain’t lucid enough then here’s what the Merriam-Webster Dictionary has to say bout it:
tensile strength :(tensl strengkth)n. Abbr. T.S., t.s. The ability of a material to resist a force tending to tear it apart, measured as the maximum amount the material can bend without breaking......