They say the internet is one of the worst effects of its kind. Maybe that’s partly true! At the end, it’s the intentions of a person that count; no point blaming technology.
Simple steps, great outcomes! Type a word. This could range from a silly word to those millions of synonyms you keep wondering what they ever stood for; just Google it. There! You will find a hundred of those results. They urge you to “log-in” thru those accounts with those millions of specifications. You did? You’re thru! Congratulations! You are now online on any of the many social and not-so-social sites. You might be looking for “friends” or just people likely equally or more weird than yourself. People who are in disguise looking for so many things; social acceptance, friendship, money, time-pass means to ward off boredom or just those plain old hook-ups/one-night-stands.
She was a one of those who were addicted to the internet, till some day she got to know the actual meaning and use of it!
They “met” online thru one of those blah-blah sites. They grew close after they exchanged their numbers. They would talk for hours. His profile read “5.6’ height, 70 kg weight, 32’ waist, dark; 35 years old Piscean, fun loving guy and looking for serious friendship!!”
He was ten years older to her. She claimed to be highly independent yet she was scared and alone from inside. She had so many doubts and fears regarding being a lady and being good and independent at it.
By now quite some time had evolved and their friendship had gone a little substantial. He had come to know that it was her first year working in a big city all by herself. She had big dreams and had great expectations from her career and her life. She wanted to make friends and have a blast in life. Nothing such turned out. Workplace is not exactly the place you look for “friends”!
He was an interesting personality. Rich but not exactly spoilt; married but not exactly divorced. He lived alone. He dealt in his family business- collecting and selling artifacts. That probably gave him a lot of time to be online, at his age!
One factor was driving them to one single fate- loneliness! Why only them!
At some point they realised they have never seen each other in person! They finally decided to meet up; it was an eventful evening.
They decided to meet at the local coffee house. “I’m in a red santro! I’ll be there in some time.” He sounded more excited than ever. It was after work; almost late evening!
He indeed was rich; a big studio spoke for his artifacts and his wealth. He was indeed alone! He was rather glad to see her in the house.
“Make yourself at home! What would you like to have?”
“I am good, so? How is family?”
She spent all of her remaining energy in bringing up this topic- his family. She never could gather enough of courage to do this for a long time. Once in a while he would mention of them as a distant past!
“Well! You can pretty much see for yourself. Here I am and its me for myself, my family!”
They seemed pretty uncomfortable with each other after that. There were long pauses in the conversations. Where did all the hours of talking go? Was it that some unknown tension was building up between them?
Then came the most obvious and expected ice-breaker!
He came closer to her and held her hands. Normally her hands wouldn’t sweat; today they did!!
“What would you like? You staying over tonight! I should make dinner for you as well?”
She was not exactly caught off guard! She knew he stays alone; she was a young girl visiting a man who was practically a stranger. And she got picked from the road and forayed straight into his house? Huh!
Who decides who is to be blamed? The borderline was that she liked him! He was familiar and comfortable. Why would she be exactly termed a whore? She knew what was best for her! Who decides what turns out in the future in between them? They were already out and very much there for each other. She wanted to talk to him in person; look into his eyes and listen. He wanted to make her a part of his lonely life; taking all the chances and the risks involved whatsoever!
“So? You have lots of girls coming up till here?” She was not expecting all of his honestly.
“Honestly? Honestly yes! But I never had a connection with any of them like the way I do with you.”
He glanced at her; his glance stood for all of his expectations and prayers. She felt like being requested for a big favour.
“You asking me to trust you too much! Don’t you think?”
“Probably yes!” He still couldn’t stop looking into her eyes.
Time was running out! It was night and she was late. Did she want to decide something else? She had no time to consider her own thought process which was now terribly slowed down due to a heavy heart.
He had already grasped her trembling fingers. His fingers were stiffly experienced. He took her down from the couch to the floor. Her lips were trembling too; he locked his to them, so as to console her.
He made love to her. She felt his ghastly manhood violating the cold and crude woman in all her sanctity! She felt an excruciating pain along with the ecstasy; she saw blood.
Red blood marked the start of a long story of indeterminate respite from urbane life!!
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Saturday, September 13, 2008
A Rainy Day
He would say “Now! With every falling drop, the dark clouds will get emptier and the sky clearer!”
Ronny did like the rain!
Once hail stones came crumbling down. One of them, the size of a football, came crushing down on the mango tree just at the front of the house. An old branch came crushing down with it. The sound of the hail storms beating on the tin roof deafened her. She closed her eyes; her fingers clasped her ears tight.
Hardly the hail storm had ended and it was still very dark outside, Ronny was out. Riding high on Baba’s boots and Toddy following him, his ears still to unlock as a hang-over of the deafening storm hardly ending. The wind outside was chilly. Noises and nature had started to become a little audible by now! They went down the steps leading to the backyard. She followed them; she never intended to get into the rain water though. The pond in the backyard was overflowing with the freshly added water, the colour of the water from conventional to all-muddy. They could hear the exceeding water running out of the pond into the grasses and the ditches around. All the tall shrubs got hurt by the huge drops and the heavy stones; they had all stooped down a little. The strong winds had twisted the tall trees; from vertical, they were now twisted to all directions one could imagine.
“Why did you unchain him? What if he gets hurt with the hails?”
“He is a guy, not a silly girl like you! We are going hunting!”
The 12 year old “hunter” winked at her and made his way down the steps to the backyard.
“I’ll see if any fish from the pond or birds from the nest in the mahogany trees got shot by the hail storm. I will get you those pink lilies by the water ditches if they are hit too! ”
“Come back! They are not hit and don’t you dare touch those rare flowers!”
He had already reached the tall bushes by the mahogany trees- hunting! She knew those pink lilies were hurt; she just didn’t have the heart to admit it!
“If the phone rings, pick it up bey!”
The phone had been ringing for some time by now. It took some time for her to reach the hall; lights were out and it was still very dark inside. Baba sounded mad.
“Is everything all right bey?”
“No baba! Hail stones have reached till the front porch, Ronny unchained toddy and they are out in the backyard bushes for hunting. Come back fast baba, I really don’t know what to do!”
“Calm down bey! Just see that you go and pick up bul from the bus stop. Don’t get wet. Take the umbrellas with you. Don’t let Ronny or toddy get too wet; they will get sick. Check if the windows are open. Don’t let the water get inside. Make some fire. Warm yourselves. We’ll be back soon, in an hour.”
The bus stop was devastated. Ronny had come along with her and he was enjoying the small patches of water on the road. She stopped telling him not to, just so he doesn’t go running away. She didn’t want to be alone in the street. They had to wait for bul. Her bus had come. The bus looked tired and all wet. Anxious faces tired from the whole day’s school, eager to reach home. Bul came out of the bus. She was wet and looked exhausted. She smiled seeing them.
“Che! I thought you would be at home.”
Her Che smiled. “But I always come to pick you up!”
The weather that day was terrible. Even if baba hadn’t called to pick up bull from the bus stop, she would have.
“Hey!” shouted bul. “who told you to use baba’s boots?” Ronny still had them on. “And stop getting into the mud.” She looked at Che, “I told you not to get this evil boy out in the rain. Look how he behaves. Let’s go Che. Let him play here alone!”
Bul and Ronny got along like cats and dogs, or way worse.
“I’m not inside the mud! Can’t you see tat? You need to change the power of your spectacles.”
Bul adjusted her glasses; that meant she got furious. “One more word and I’ll kill you right here in the street!” Ronny did not appear bothered. He followed them quietly and undaunted.
They made fire in the kitchen. She struggled to find the match box in the dark, the charcoal pieces were damp and they were not starting up to flames so easy. She tried with the old newspaper scraps lying crumbled in the old shoe box on the rack, it didn’t work still. The kerosene she sprinkled into the half ignited charcoal did the trick finally. It was burning now, steady and warm. Bul had got wet in school trying to get into the bus. She was having a headache already. Che wiped the water out of her tresses; they were heavy, long and healthy inviting lots of water droplets into them. Ronny was sneezing. Toddy was wet. He was busy licking the drops of cold water from his pelt. Bey made tea for everyone.
Red tea! Her field of specialisation! Although baba’s favourite was green tea and ma preferred tea with milk, she knew how to prepare the best of both. Bey knew the way around the kitchen which was slowly becoming her area. She got toddy’s rug and warmed it in the fire. Toddy slipped into it instantly.
Baba and ma had come, they could tell; the sounds of the gates opening up far or toddy getting restless way even before. Ma got those freshly baked cookies from the local bakery on the way. Ma’s bag changed from time to time. She was a working woman, very particular about her get up! Baba was just the opposite; he would get a new watch or a new sweater only when all the women folk in the house would coax him, to all limits! Ma would get those bags and jewelry and dresses on a regular basis; they were the latest if not the best! The change of bags did not change the contents though; it would always be that from the local bakery! Cookies and bread for the next morning; or sometimes just plain puffs!
Tea and cookies! The day turned out to be much better than she had anticipated. The three of them couldn’t finish telling about the hail storm. They were thrilled! They didn’t realise but during all the talking toddy had dozed off. They saved him his share of cookies; they didn’t wake him up. He was tired with all the hunting. Poor toddy!
Both the sisters snuggled into their bed. They kept their feet inside the thick blanket. They pretended to do their home work. Ronny was busy making himself comfortable with all the cuts and bites he got while out hunting.
“The tall grasses were even taller than me. Their leaves were like freshly sharpened knives. They cut me through. The red-ants’ colony got attacked by the hail stones; and I got into one of them just by chance. They found me and my legs; they bit me repeatedly. Thank God I had those baba’s boots.”
Ronny’s head was hanging from the bed, upside down. Toddy was lying just beneath the bed, besides Ronny’s hanging head. They were as if whispering into each other. Toddy was hardly paying any attention to him; he was not so much done with the dozing yet. They kept the conversation to themselves as if it were some after-hunt sad tale. The sisters could tell from his tone that he liked it and disliked it at the same time. He was showing his swollen skin to him, the red bite from the red ants. Toddy dint quiet see it for all the things all over him! The sisters couldn’t either. The lights were still out and the candle flames were flickering too much. They could hear ma and baba talking, the same old stuffs about the tattered government office they belonged to. Occasionally they could hear the sound of the wooden spatulas stirring into the steel utensils used to cook broth. It was almost done. They could sense the finishing touches going up to it and smell the spicy aroma let out.
Ma was the best cook in the whole world. Her trick was, Richa and bul discovered later on, she would put less of the fermented fish and more of the dried fish in the vegetable broth. “Boiling it a little more makes it more tender and delicious” she kept on telling. Baba liked it less hot while the girls in the house liked it with lots of pepper and lots of chilies; both green ones fresh from the garden or dried over a season, in the sun. Ma would apply one of her tricks here too. She would put less of the spice in the broth and would make a hot chilly-sauce with fermented fish as her side fish. The girls and sometimes Ronny would relish it with a lot of green onion leaves, which ma would have chopped into fine pieces. None cloud beat ma if fish were to be cooked. Richa always wondered how ma would almost every time prepare the same taste. She was fast to pick up the cooking heritage from ma but bul was terribly slow. None in the house preferred her to cook unless it was plain tea, red tea and not even the one with milk; she was never allowed to cook if guests, however unimportant, were in or even around the house! Richa was famous in the house and the relatives and among her friends too when it came to cooking. Her egg curry was famous in the house. Her friends liked her noodles. Her smashed-vegetables with fermented fish were famous too.
Lights had come back. People got busy setting out the candles they were holding on to till now.
The five of them started off dinner by the fire.
Toddy was waiting for his turn. Ronny tried to stop it but couldn’t; a yawn came out of him in between the chewing.
“Why did you go hunting? Why do you exhaust yourself? ” Baba retaliated.
Ma also joined in “Now finish your food and sleep fast. You have to get up early for school too!”
They were seated all around the fire after food. Ma was still not free; she was busy mixing mustard oil and salt to the fermented fish before she would put them into the plastic container. That was the best way to make it stay the longest. Toddy had finished his share of the meal and the cookies too.
“I got so scared today” Richa started off. “The winds, the hail stones and the thunder, it was all so ghastly.”
Ma replied “and you got scared in your own house? Home is the safest place to be in bey, in the whole world.”
Baba continued, “You at least have a proper house which won’t fall apart into pieces during any kind of storm, of course unless the tree branches strike at the tin roofs! While I grew up we had an old hut with thatched roof. Every time there was a storm or for that matter a slight rain the interiors of the house would get flooded way worse than the outside. And my sisters and brother would be with me, depending on me. My mother would come back late from the market. If she missed the last bus she would come back walking till home with her basket which she would take the vegetables in.”
Baba had seen days of poverty, dejection and unemployment. The girls knew of it. They respected him a lot for having overcame all that dutifully and be the strong man that he is now. He was the ideal man they always looked up to.
“Sometimes when it would rain and it was past the time mother would return, I would tell my siblings to stay in the house and come out in the streets to pick her up. There would be no electricity at night during those times as there were just too few street lamps and they were only in the city area. Previously this area was not so much of a city proper, mostly an outskirt of the city you could say. I would have one lantern in hand and an old umbrella with lots of holes in it. I used to be very happy to see her from a distance. She would still be a shadow in the darkness but I would know it was her for sure. She would be all wet but not from head to toe! The huge basket made out of bamboo sheets over her head had thick plastic linings at the base; I had designed it so that sometimes if she had to sell small size dried fishes instead of the usual vegetables it shouldn’t slip past the old basket!”
Baba smiled. “I am telling you all these not to let you people know what I underwent in my life. What you should always know is that people face problems all the time. So the next time there is thunder or a storm, don’t run around all scared. That’s silly!”
Richa felt so cosy with everyone. Just hours before she was distraught and feverish; she didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know how to control Ronny and toddy. She had to pick up bul, make a fire and warm up everyone. Now with baba around control was as if back; it was indeed. Ma had all the warmth in her. The cold and confusion was now only outside of the house, blowing as the bitter winds. Inside the house was comfort. She was not sure of what she would have done if she were in baba’s place but she too had survived a huge storm and an aftermath, in all her rights!
Ronny did like the rain!
Once hail stones came crumbling down. One of them, the size of a football, came crushing down on the mango tree just at the front of the house. An old branch came crushing down with it. The sound of the hail storms beating on the tin roof deafened her. She closed her eyes; her fingers clasped her ears tight.
Hardly the hail storm had ended and it was still very dark outside, Ronny was out. Riding high on Baba’s boots and Toddy following him, his ears still to unlock as a hang-over of the deafening storm hardly ending. The wind outside was chilly. Noises and nature had started to become a little audible by now! They went down the steps leading to the backyard. She followed them; she never intended to get into the rain water though. The pond in the backyard was overflowing with the freshly added water, the colour of the water from conventional to all-muddy. They could hear the exceeding water running out of the pond into the grasses and the ditches around. All the tall shrubs got hurt by the huge drops and the heavy stones; they had all stooped down a little. The strong winds had twisted the tall trees; from vertical, they were now twisted to all directions one could imagine.
“Why did you unchain him? What if he gets hurt with the hails?”
“He is a guy, not a silly girl like you! We are going hunting!”
The 12 year old “hunter” winked at her and made his way down the steps to the backyard.
“I’ll see if any fish from the pond or birds from the nest in the mahogany trees got shot by the hail storm. I will get you those pink lilies by the water ditches if they are hit too! ”
“Come back! They are not hit and don’t you dare touch those rare flowers!”
He had already reached the tall bushes by the mahogany trees- hunting! She knew those pink lilies were hurt; she just didn’t have the heart to admit it!
“If the phone rings, pick it up bey!”
The phone had been ringing for some time by now. It took some time for her to reach the hall; lights were out and it was still very dark inside. Baba sounded mad.
“Is everything all right bey?”
“No baba! Hail stones have reached till the front porch, Ronny unchained toddy and they are out in the backyard bushes for hunting. Come back fast baba, I really don’t know what to do!”
“Calm down bey! Just see that you go and pick up bul from the bus stop. Don’t get wet. Take the umbrellas with you. Don’t let Ronny or toddy get too wet; they will get sick. Check if the windows are open. Don’t let the water get inside. Make some fire. Warm yourselves. We’ll be back soon, in an hour.”
The bus stop was devastated. Ronny had come along with her and he was enjoying the small patches of water on the road. She stopped telling him not to, just so he doesn’t go running away. She didn’t want to be alone in the street. They had to wait for bul. Her bus had come. The bus looked tired and all wet. Anxious faces tired from the whole day’s school, eager to reach home. Bul came out of the bus. She was wet and looked exhausted. She smiled seeing them.
“Che! I thought you would be at home.”
Her Che smiled. “But I always come to pick you up!”
The weather that day was terrible. Even if baba hadn’t called to pick up bull from the bus stop, she would have.
“Hey!” shouted bul. “who told you to use baba’s boots?” Ronny still had them on. “And stop getting into the mud.” She looked at Che, “I told you not to get this evil boy out in the rain. Look how he behaves. Let’s go Che. Let him play here alone!”
Bul and Ronny got along like cats and dogs, or way worse.
“I’m not inside the mud! Can’t you see tat? You need to change the power of your spectacles.”
Bul adjusted her glasses; that meant she got furious. “One more word and I’ll kill you right here in the street!” Ronny did not appear bothered. He followed them quietly and undaunted.
They made fire in the kitchen. She struggled to find the match box in the dark, the charcoal pieces were damp and they were not starting up to flames so easy. She tried with the old newspaper scraps lying crumbled in the old shoe box on the rack, it didn’t work still. The kerosene she sprinkled into the half ignited charcoal did the trick finally. It was burning now, steady and warm. Bul had got wet in school trying to get into the bus. She was having a headache already. Che wiped the water out of her tresses; they were heavy, long and healthy inviting lots of water droplets into them. Ronny was sneezing. Toddy was wet. He was busy licking the drops of cold water from his pelt. Bey made tea for everyone.
Red tea! Her field of specialisation! Although baba’s favourite was green tea and ma preferred tea with milk, she knew how to prepare the best of both. Bey knew the way around the kitchen which was slowly becoming her area. She got toddy’s rug and warmed it in the fire. Toddy slipped into it instantly.
Baba and ma had come, they could tell; the sounds of the gates opening up far or toddy getting restless way even before. Ma got those freshly baked cookies from the local bakery on the way. Ma’s bag changed from time to time. She was a working woman, very particular about her get up! Baba was just the opposite; he would get a new watch or a new sweater only when all the women folk in the house would coax him, to all limits! Ma would get those bags and jewelry and dresses on a regular basis; they were the latest if not the best! The change of bags did not change the contents though; it would always be that from the local bakery! Cookies and bread for the next morning; or sometimes just plain puffs!
Tea and cookies! The day turned out to be much better than she had anticipated. The three of them couldn’t finish telling about the hail storm. They were thrilled! They didn’t realise but during all the talking toddy had dozed off. They saved him his share of cookies; they didn’t wake him up. He was tired with all the hunting. Poor toddy!
Both the sisters snuggled into their bed. They kept their feet inside the thick blanket. They pretended to do their home work. Ronny was busy making himself comfortable with all the cuts and bites he got while out hunting.
“The tall grasses were even taller than me. Their leaves were like freshly sharpened knives. They cut me through. The red-ants’ colony got attacked by the hail stones; and I got into one of them just by chance. They found me and my legs; they bit me repeatedly. Thank God I had those baba’s boots.”
Ronny’s head was hanging from the bed, upside down. Toddy was lying just beneath the bed, besides Ronny’s hanging head. They were as if whispering into each other. Toddy was hardly paying any attention to him; he was not so much done with the dozing yet. They kept the conversation to themselves as if it were some after-hunt sad tale. The sisters could tell from his tone that he liked it and disliked it at the same time. He was showing his swollen skin to him, the red bite from the red ants. Toddy dint quiet see it for all the things all over him! The sisters couldn’t either. The lights were still out and the candle flames were flickering too much. They could hear ma and baba talking, the same old stuffs about the tattered government office they belonged to. Occasionally they could hear the sound of the wooden spatulas stirring into the steel utensils used to cook broth. It was almost done. They could sense the finishing touches going up to it and smell the spicy aroma let out.
Ma was the best cook in the whole world. Her trick was, Richa and bul discovered later on, she would put less of the fermented fish and more of the dried fish in the vegetable broth. “Boiling it a little more makes it more tender and delicious” she kept on telling. Baba liked it less hot while the girls in the house liked it with lots of pepper and lots of chilies; both green ones fresh from the garden or dried over a season, in the sun. Ma would apply one of her tricks here too. She would put less of the spice in the broth and would make a hot chilly-sauce with fermented fish as her side fish. The girls and sometimes Ronny would relish it with a lot of green onion leaves, which ma would have chopped into fine pieces. None cloud beat ma if fish were to be cooked. Richa always wondered how ma would almost every time prepare the same taste. She was fast to pick up the cooking heritage from ma but bul was terribly slow. None in the house preferred her to cook unless it was plain tea, red tea and not even the one with milk; she was never allowed to cook if guests, however unimportant, were in or even around the house! Richa was famous in the house and the relatives and among her friends too when it came to cooking. Her egg curry was famous in the house. Her friends liked her noodles. Her smashed-vegetables with fermented fish were famous too.
Lights had come back. People got busy setting out the candles they were holding on to till now.
The five of them started off dinner by the fire.
Toddy was waiting for his turn. Ronny tried to stop it but couldn’t; a yawn came out of him in between the chewing.
“Why did you go hunting? Why do you exhaust yourself? ” Baba retaliated.
Ma also joined in “Now finish your food and sleep fast. You have to get up early for school too!”
They were seated all around the fire after food. Ma was still not free; she was busy mixing mustard oil and salt to the fermented fish before she would put them into the plastic container. That was the best way to make it stay the longest. Toddy had finished his share of the meal and the cookies too.
“I got so scared today” Richa started off. “The winds, the hail stones and the thunder, it was all so ghastly.”
Ma replied “and you got scared in your own house? Home is the safest place to be in bey, in the whole world.”
Baba continued, “You at least have a proper house which won’t fall apart into pieces during any kind of storm, of course unless the tree branches strike at the tin roofs! While I grew up we had an old hut with thatched roof. Every time there was a storm or for that matter a slight rain the interiors of the house would get flooded way worse than the outside. And my sisters and brother would be with me, depending on me. My mother would come back late from the market. If she missed the last bus she would come back walking till home with her basket which she would take the vegetables in.”
Baba had seen days of poverty, dejection and unemployment. The girls knew of it. They respected him a lot for having overcame all that dutifully and be the strong man that he is now. He was the ideal man they always looked up to.
“Sometimes when it would rain and it was past the time mother would return, I would tell my siblings to stay in the house and come out in the streets to pick her up. There would be no electricity at night during those times as there were just too few street lamps and they were only in the city area. Previously this area was not so much of a city proper, mostly an outskirt of the city you could say. I would have one lantern in hand and an old umbrella with lots of holes in it. I used to be very happy to see her from a distance. She would still be a shadow in the darkness but I would know it was her for sure. She would be all wet but not from head to toe! The huge basket made out of bamboo sheets over her head had thick plastic linings at the base; I had designed it so that sometimes if she had to sell small size dried fishes instead of the usual vegetables it shouldn’t slip past the old basket!”
Baba smiled. “I am telling you all these not to let you people know what I underwent in my life. What you should always know is that people face problems all the time. So the next time there is thunder or a storm, don’t run around all scared. That’s silly!”
Richa felt so cosy with everyone. Just hours before she was distraught and feverish; she didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know how to control Ronny and toddy. She had to pick up bul, make a fire and warm up everyone. Now with baba around control was as if back; it was indeed. Ma had all the warmth in her. The cold and confusion was now only outside of the house, blowing as the bitter winds. Inside the house was comfort. She was not sure of what she would have done if she were in baba’s place but she too had survived a huge storm and an aftermath, in all her rights!
Monday, May 12, 2008
THE MOBILE THIEF
Vaibhav Dixit. I would have never known about him if not for my close friend Sailesh Prasad and his exploitation of the “real world”. If I were to write a story, Vaibhav would be the main protagonist. Sailesh is my close friend but when it comes to Vaibhav I would always say he was “unfair”. I find Vaibhav a very quite person. I have seen him in college, most of the time, all by himself. Vaibhav couldn’t continue with his studies, he was not seen in college for like a year. He was accused of a theft in our PG, the Tirupati Towers. Maybe controversies and TT (Tirupati Towers) have a long play of togetherness!
I might be trying to have a little fun with my own criticisms in this story but I believe this is pretty serious to many people. Can u ever remember any of your dreams wherein you are a part of those high octane actions like in the movies? Or those where the detective (with his cute and silly assistant) solves one crime, clean chit, within two episodes? Well my story goes such!
7:45 am, TT: Usually I find that if something ominous is to happen, it will rain heavily and among those gruesome lightening, an ill-omened background score will be played. That day was none such, rather a bright sunny day, nonetheless eventful. I had just got up from a rather long sleep when I realized the hostel was silent than ever. When I got down, I saw people discussing about something, all serious and perturbed! I usually don’t have the courage to step up and ask what actually took place so I waited, till I heard the precise of what they were discussing. Yes! My intuitions had proved themselves. There had been a theft in the hostel that early morning! Sailesh’s roommate, Natesh, had an early class. While he forgot to tell sailesh to lock the room after he left, sailesh was still sleeping. The previous night, he and his friends had to catch up on some studies and some chatting (you decide the proportion!) which went on till late. He was in no mood to get up that early. Somebody had flicked Sailesh’s mobile phone in the meantime. He was looking very troubled. I am bad at consoling people. The only thing what was coming into my mind was “how much was it worth?” I am a bad techie! I have a very bad knowledge regarding the most recent mobile phones which enter the market and their prices, yet I could sense it was damn costly.
1:30 pm, college: It was already afternoon, Sailesh was still very upset. He remained silent the whole time. I took up my responsibility of spreading the word that he got looted in the hostel, early morning. I didn’t dramatize much, yet this news was itself spicy. Our classmates were thrilled, especially Shiv (better known as stunner). He presented all possibilities of how it could have taken place and who might be the possible culprit(s). Their stories were more TV and movie inspired than my version. I was kind of enjoying the fact that I was the one who started this thread of hot discussions. I have always been dubiously proud of my abilities!
2:45 pm, college gate: We were just at the gate when one of our seniors met us. It changed the course of the story and the day altogether! “The thief has been caught!” he told us. “Go check it out for yourselves!” My eyes popped out, sailesh was portentously calm. We had to check it out! That we did.
3:00 pm, room no. 202, TT: this room was a celebrity in itself. Huge, well ventilated and upbeat with its bright inhabitants! The room had a happy and happening feel. I cannot tell why they chose this room but to the freshly nabbed “thief” it was more of a drill room, missing were only the electric chair and the guillotine. Angry host elites stormed the room. This was not the first time somebody’s mobile had been stolen. We had to do our means to stop this ugly chain of thefts going on. We made our way through the crowd and the hustle. On the bed adjoining the door, the felon was being greedily held and made to stay on the bed itself.
The “thief” was tall, slim. This was the first time I saw Vaibhav! He stayed in another PG, “Chota House” I was told. He was in a really dirty looking pair of jeans. The first few buttons of the shirt he had put went missing (the angry people around him took them I guess)! His rather startling and meek features were in danger. He had bold, round and big eyes; not really clean shaven but rather a face not really hinting of a totally innocently-backpacked history! His face was red and his skin looked as though it had been smeared. He was badly scared. Some pain and a gut wrenching fright were evident from his harassed and damp eyes. He had already got beaten up for the initial round. Now was the time to interrogate. The “truth” could no longer be far from us all! The crowd gathered around him had made a strict boundary between that of the caught and the hunters. A semi circular perimeter was setting him and the not-so-big-202’s-bed apart from the crowd grimacing at him.
If one had to talk to him one would have to come up till that very perimeter and deliver what one had to speak or hit. He had no answers to those questions- direct and gruesome! Tom Verges was standing next to me. “How did they come to know he is the one?” I enquired. Tom shrugged his shoulders, “no idea!” Tom’s mobile went missing too incidentally. He was also on heavy fire. He stepped up till that perimeter and swore his guts out to Vaibhav. Sailesh could not be any more silent. He snapped. He too went till the perimeter and beyond; he sort of leaped into the not-so-big-202’s-bed bed. He grabbed the villain by the neck. He shook him till his throat started to make some sound as in the answers he was required to retort with. Vaibhav was as silent and clueless as ever, occasional I-am-innocent’s and please-spare-me’s did turn up. “So you won’t tell me anything huh?” Straight to the face went two blows in a quick train. “Where did you hide it?” Sailesh’s question was the most predictable! All trails were being scanned and rescanned to get to the solution to that very hard-hitting inquiry. I was not expecting any valid answers. More people cleared their throats; they too came up till the perimeter and swore at him. Sailesh’s patience went below par; his eye-brows had been made into a hell bent V and his lips went dry and teeth clasped tight by his angry-strong jaw muscles! That could not be good; the beast’s anger had gone above the average warning level! Sailesh made a tighter fist and raised it to his target- Vaibhav’s well structured face. Vaibhav squeaked! His eyes toured the whole room for people who could help him in saving his own life; he couldn’t find anyone for sure. The shrill of his heaving breathing filled the room. The happy feel of the room was a distant past by this time.
I dragged sailesh to the bed opposite to the prisoner’s. “What proof are you following, moron!” He was least interested in obliging me. I couldn’t stop him anyways. He is too well built for me and he was on fire that afternoon! They continued with their cross-examination. I felt strangled. I didn’t have the mind to digest the whole scenario. I left the room in my helplessness.
5:45 pm, my room, TT: My roommate, joy d’mello, came inside. “Too much had taken place in the last two hours” I was told. Apparently, Vaibhav was being taken to the police station when he escaped at some traffic stoppage. Ah! The great escape! “They did not follow him?” I asked. “No! He ran towards the traffic police”. “So he is gone?” This did not sound safe! Sailesh and others involved in the “crime scene” were being summoned. I ran out. Sailesh was near the gate. He had to go too! “It will be all right buddy!” I shouted. I had to say something.
7:30 pm, my room, TT: I was just going for dinner when sailesh made his return entry to my room. “I shouldn’t have been so violent.” The police inspector had spared them all with a long lecture on why students should refrain from taking the law into their own hands! I smiled, “ah! My daredevil, now you got my point?” Sailesh was feeling sad. “Did my mom called at your number by any chance? I still did not inform them about the theft! ” she had not!
The incident had been over like a year. One day I came to know Vaibhav was wrongly accused the whole time!
Once during lunch, Vaibhav happened to pass by us. He had rejoined college after one year of gap. I was with sailesh. I winked at him. “What if he counters you for the treated we all meted at him at that time?” Sailesh looked a little less than amused at my taunt! “Just leave it!” he spitted out!
I might be trying to have a little fun with my own criticisms in this story but I believe this is pretty serious to many people. Can u ever remember any of your dreams wherein you are a part of those high octane actions like in the movies? Or those where the detective (with his cute and silly assistant) solves one crime, clean chit, within two episodes? Well my story goes such!
7:45 am, TT: Usually I find that if something ominous is to happen, it will rain heavily and among those gruesome lightening, an ill-omened background score will be played. That day was none such, rather a bright sunny day, nonetheless eventful. I had just got up from a rather long sleep when I realized the hostel was silent than ever. When I got down, I saw people discussing about something, all serious and perturbed! I usually don’t have the courage to step up and ask what actually took place so I waited, till I heard the precise of what they were discussing. Yes! My intuitions had proved themselves. There had been a theft in the hostel that early morning! Sailesh’s roommate, Natesh, had an early class. While he forgot to tell sailesh to lock the room after he left, sailesh was still sleeping. The previous night, he and his friends had to catch up on some studies and some chatting (you decide the proportion!) which went on till late. He was in no mood to get up that early. Somebody had flicked Sailesh’s mobile phone in the meantime. He was looking very troubled. I am bad at consoling people. The only thing what was coming into my mind was “how much was it worth?” I am a bad techie! I have a very bad knowledge regarding the most recent mobile phones which enter the market and their prices, yet I could sense it was damn costly.
1:30 pm, college: It was already afternoon, Sailesh was still very upset. He remained silent the whole time. I took up my responsibility of spreading the word that he got looted in the hostel, early morning. I didn’t dramatize much, yet this news was itself spicy. Our classmates were thrilled, especially Shiv (better known as stunner). He presented all possibilities of how it could have taken place and who might be the possible culprit(s). Their stories were more TV and movie inspired than my version. I was kind of enjoying the fact that I was the one who started this thread of hot discussions. I have always been dubiously proud of my abilities!
2:45 pm, college gate: We were just at the gate when one of our seniors met us. It changed the course of the story and the day altogether! “The thief has been caught!” he told us. “Go check it out for yourselves!” My eyes popped out, sailesh was portentously calm. We had to check it out! That we did.
3:00 pm, room no. 202, TT: this room was a celebrity in itself. Huge, well ventilated and upbeat with its bright inhabitants! The room had a happy and happening feel. I cannot tell why they chose this room but to the freshly nabbed “thief” it was more of a drill room, missing were only the electric chair and the guillotine. Angry host elites stormed the room. This was not the first time somebody’s mobile had been stolen. We had to do our means to stop this ugly chain of thefts going on. We made our way through the crowd and the hustle. On the bed adjoining the door, the felon was being greedily held and made to stay on the bed itself.
The “thief” was tall, slim. This was the first time I saw Vaibhav! He stayed in another PG, “Chota House” I was told. He was in a really dirty looking pair of jeans. The first few buttons of the shirt he had put went missing (the angry people around him took them I guess)! His rather startling and meek features were in danger. He had bold, round and big eyes; not really clean shaven but rather a face not really hinting of a totally innocently-backpacked history! His face was red and his skin looked as though it had been smeared. He was badly scared. Some pain and a gut wrenching fright were evident from his harassed and damp eyes. He had already got beaten up for the initial round. Now was the time to interrogate. The “truth” could no longer be far from us all! The crowd gathered around him had made a strict boundary between that of the caught and the hunters. A semi circular perimeter was setting him and the not-so-big-202’s-bed apart from the crowd grimacing at him.
If one had to talk to him one would have to come up till that very perimeter and deliver what one had to speak or hit. He had no answers to those questions- direct and gruesome! Tom Verges was standing next to me. “How did they come to know he is the one?” I enquired. Tom shrugged his shoulders, “no idea!” Tom’s mobile went missing too incidentally. He was also on heavy fire. He stepped up till that perimeter and swore his guts out to Vaibhav. Sailesh could not be any more silent. He snapped. He too went till the perimeter and beyond; he sort of leaped into the not-so-big-202’s-bed bed. He grabbed the villain by the neck. He shook him till his throat started to make some sound as in the answers he was required to retort with. Vaibhav was as silent and clueless as ever, occasional I-am-innocent’s and please-spare-me’s did turn up. “So you won’t tell me anything huh?” Straight to the face went two blows in a quick train. “Where did you hide it?” Sailesh’s question was the most predictable! All trails were being scanned and rescanned to get to the solution to that very hard-hitting inquiry. I was not expecting any valid answers. More people cleared their throats; they too came up till the perimeter and swore at him. Sailesh’s patience went below par; his eye-brows had been made into a hell bent V and his lips went dry and teeth clasped tight by his angry-strong jaw muscles! That could not be good; the beast’s anger had gone above the average warning level! Sailesh made a tighter fist and raised it to his target- Vaibhav’s well structured face. Vaibhav squeaked! His eyes toured the whole room for people who could help him in saving his own life; he couldn’t find anyone for sure. The shrill of his heaving breathing filled the room. The happy feel of the room was a distant past by this time.
I dragged sailesh to the bed opposite to the prisoner’s. “What proof are you following, moron!” He was least interested in obliging me. I couldn’t stop him anyways. He is too well built for me and he was on fire that afternoon! They continued with their cross-examination. I felt strangled. I didn’t have the mind to digest the whole scenario. I left the room in my helplessness.
5:45 pm, my room, TT: My roommate, joy d’mello, came inside. “Too much had taken place in the last two hours” I was told. Apparently, Vaibhav was being taken to the police station when he escaped at some traffic stoppage. Ah! The great escape! “They did not follow him?” I asked. “No! He ran towards the traffic police”. “So he is gone?” This did not sound safe! Sailesh and others involved in the “crime scene” were being summoned. I ran out. Sailesh was near the gate. He had to go too! “It will be all right buddy!” I shouted. I had to say something.
7:30 pm, my room, TT: I was just going for dinner when sailesh made his return entry to my room. “I shouldn’t have been so violent.” The police inspector had spared them all with a long lecture on why students should refrain from taking the law into their own hands! I smiled, “ah! My daredevil, now you got my point?” Sailesh was feeling sad. “Did my mom called at your number by any chance? I still did not inform them about the theft! ” she had not!
The incident had been over like a year. One day I came to know Vaibhav was wrongly accused the whole time!
Once during lunch, Vaibhav happened to pass by us. He had rejoined college after one year of gap. I was with sailesh. I winked at him. “What if he counters you for the treated we all meted at him at that time?” Sailesh looked a little less than amused at my taunt! “Just leave it!” he spitted out!
Thursday, May 1, 2008
The Kind Night
She was in his arms. The week had been hectic for both, more so for her. She had been adamant. She wanted to make it through. The will to live had survived in her. The atrocities that befell her this week was way more than her usual intake, she was stressed beyond all extents. At times she felt guilty of not having breathed her last.
She was born with a dream. To be a career woman, to be financially sound and independent some day! This might be the valid dream to all middle-class college-going girls, but she had wished for more. She had dreamt of being loved. She had wanted love, concern and security. She was willing to invest her life for it! She had just one mantra with her- “I am so jealous of those girls who earn well and are also in love! Wish I could be one of those someday! ” But what was she to expect security from an undergraduate? Neither by finance nor through commitments! Vishal, Vishal Rohtak was but an undergraduate and just 22. He was pursuing his last year of engineering in automobiles. She belonged to the same college, final year architecture. She was 21 and seemed so ready for relations, romance and all those wishes she had been living all through her life. She was already there, committed and happy! How difficult is it for two people with poles-apart differences to madly fall in love? What are the odds that they promise to stay by each other’s side, all through their lives? She was that control freak, organized, hygienic and sensible. He was that guy-next-door persona, caring and confused. If he couldn’t even select which dress to wear, she was one of that one-woman-army, capable of taking care of him and her career! But love did happen between the two. They spent endless hours talking. They went out of words to describe how they missed each other when the other one was not around. They dreamt together, dreams of togetherness. Together they dared to realize them all. She started weaving those dreams into their lives. They couldn’t have been better! Finally they moved in together. They just couldn’t bear being separate any more. They were meant to be one, two lives and one living! They say- all good things do come to an end! And it did, slowly and quietly. She couldn’t have realized it if not for his confused state of mind. He preferred not to have priorities in life. At least she could never prove herself to be one of his priorities, if he had any few of it. He had always been unsure, now, even unsure of having her in his life. What are the odds of two people who were in love splitting up? What are the odds of arguments leading to fights and worse? Different people do attract each other, but they remain different. With time the differences grow. They have to finally end up altogether different. So different that they define their own territories and not let the other person to even peek into it. What are the odds of this happening then? That is one situational comedy! She could no longer stay with him. His feelings for her had ceased to live up to her expectations. She has been always blamed of expecting too much from her petite life and the world. But her expectations kept her alive! Did she expect him to be hers forever one day? Did she want to, some day, walk down that holy aisle with him? Did she expect their affair to be a one-never-ending-story? Sure! But time had undone her and she decided to move out. Expectations hurt you in the end. They are even worse than those castles built in the air. Expectations worry you. They always remind you- Dreams hardly come true in real life!
This was her last night with him. “I bought her gifts today!” he smiled. “Yeah? I saw the bills! She must have really liked it. You should have done that to me as well for once, at least for our anniversary last Friday?” What if he has been seeing the other girl for the past 7 days, right on her face? “You better get used to being kind and caring to whoever you are with from now on.” He continued to smile, “Sorry! I have been too harsh on you lately”. Tonight he was kind to her, for which she was not grateful. She deserved much better a treatment. Who was she to join the big-mouthed bandwagon of those ill-hearted men who decide what suit whose life? She never knew right from wrong. She never had the time or the heart to think over it. All she knew was she was in love. Being sincere and honest was what truth was to her. How could she claim hers was the most true love even when he, the one whom she most wanted to relate herself to, failed to know her. Maybe he did at one time, never now! She wanted to stay still in his arms but she couldn’t stop her tears! “Richa! Are you all right? Don’t cry please!” Maybe those were her feelings, melting away as they won’t be able to abide by the excruciated beats of her heart. “I just can’t stop it. Tonight, let me!” He held her hands tighter- “everything will be all right!” It was time she moved on. It was time she thanked her stars for having granted her these precious moments, with him! It was time she stopped loving him! If only the whole thing was that simple!
She was trying to wrap herself up. She had been just too much into her own world. She had imagined they had formed a cozy little world of their own, far from all those do’s and don’ts. Now she realized- the dream was only hers. He had never been that involved in her life, the way she had adsorbed his life to herself! Now it was hard for her to come out of it at all. They discussed the pros and cons of live-in relationships. Now she could be a part of that discussion! She could be one of those examples of how “love” can let you down. Many a times she was blamed. “You are just too insecure Richa! She is just a friend. Why won’t you trust me? What do you want me to do?” That would come as a blow to a lady who claimed to be sensitive, sophisticated and understanding. And it did. Or was it true that people who are too much into loving someone are the ones who always turn out to be insecure, jealous and crazy? “You better mind it! Do you think I can’t make out friendship from flirting? You know that she is a player right?” You would say she herself invited trouble by walking such a tight rope; she never ignored this fact though. She owned everything to herself. She had done her part of sacrifices to keep them together and going. Now it was up to him. He did his part too, not in her favor and now she was out of his life!
Usually she would prefer a high pitched quarrel. Tonight, her voice was shrill and shaking with emotions. She didn’t want to speak. Those words always remained words to him. It never meant a feeling or an emotion. They could never be understood and she was always the abusive speaker, argumentative and unwanted. Yet tonight was the night she had to say something. “I was so much in love with you. Never saw this coming! I am not altogether surprised, but this is happening all so suddenly. I was always prepared for this but you have to give me some time to get used to this”. He smiled. His smile stood for all of his stubbornness and negligence. It lacked the warmth of a healthy smile. Rather it kept reminding her that he was relieved to have her out of his life. She could easily tell it was sympathy. Who feeds sympathy in place of love? Maybe those ex-lovers who want to take pity on their spouses whom they are ditching! Her tears still came running down. Some day she had to see this too. Fair enough! She had been that insightful whore- over protective, over concerned and with an excess dose of love. Who could have tolerated that? Everyone has the right to roam free on this earth. One should select whom to sleep and spend time with as per one’s choice and tastes. That can keep changing. If you live in a world of “no rules”, there is not such a strict definition of love or commitment or for that matter betrayal. Maybe the risks run higher if you are living in your own make-believe world where you imagine and expect that love is to be delivered with love.
“I always liked her. But I used to feel guilty for you. Now I just can’t stop myself from nearing her. This is just the beginning. It could get worse for you.” This must have been what being speechless must feel like! She replied soft, “I got it, just be sure you are not wasting your time! You have always made me sound like a mistake. Let me just be a past, not a past mistake. You could at least remember me as your roomy?” This must have been like smearing insult over your own injury, a painless way to exterminate your own will and self-confidence. She felt more guilty for herself! All this time he was feeling like a caged bird? It would have been difficult for her to brand her care and concern aristocracy! But somewhere down the line she was also responsible for saturating him to all his limits of endurance. She knew it and owned all irregularities to herself. Did she have a choice? “Don’t even make it obligatory to try and help me. I was always good without you too, maybe even better!” Those were words to console him, if that was at all required!
From the moment she came to know of his affair 7 days back, her life had been a torture to her. It was a classmate’s birthday party. They were invited as a couple. Half the gathering knew they were living in. Yet some of them still knew he was showing lesser and lesser interest in her, of late. Why on earth else should she spend 2 hours of the party all by herself, at that dark wretched corner while he was to enjoy all the wine and the “new lady” in their lives? And later to be blamed again, “Can’t you be a little social at least sometimes? Why do you act like the party should have been thrown according to your mood? You act so immature sometimes!” That was another blow to her sensitivity.
But at least she could have been a little more social. Even though she was burning inside, and her world was tearing apart. She still could have flaunted one of those class-oriented wine glasses, flirted with all the men around and seek some casual courtship. That would have made her more social. Who keeps sticking around to their spouses the whole party, when she was not even his wife! Society and social norms- they were coming down on to her like an explicitly and intricately designed mystery, offering her all sorts of pain, baring none of the worst! This was not the first party she had to keep mum about. But this was the last party she would keep herself tolerating. After 3 years of living together, she did not want him to reduce her status to that of the “other lady” in his life.
The truth remains the fact that she was helpless. She did not try to help herself either. All she tried was to end it all in a nice manner and move on, not that it was possible. Injuries heal and scars remain. Those scars remain, to remind you of a time you knew how to believe in love, how to trust someone with all your heart and how to simply depend on someone just because you love him. At that instant, she was reduced to a non existent eventuality. While all the time he was faking up love and living together? She felt like an over consumed and lifeless article of trade.
“I can feel you are avoiding me so badly”, Richa spent her last speck of courage in letting him know her vulnerability. He still didn’t have much to conjecture- “It wouldn’t be fair if I want to love you now, is it?” “I am not trying to avoid you!” They made love, the last time. This was the way to part, at least for him. She didn’t say no, she never could. Today was the day she was left alone, with no dreams with her. No sign of a good future or a good groom. She couldn’t feel him anymore. It felt like a stranger feeling her body, a stranger who had been with her from always; but she used to feel him at one time! If only she and her heart could sense this future!
Vishal had slept off. “Try to get some good sleep all right. Rest a bit if you can!” She still couldn’t sleep a bit, not for this week at least. So much had happened to her so quickly. She couldn’t think of sleep or food. That would have been an overhead to her already pathetic brain!
Everything was in a sorry state- her mind her heart and her life. Her mind kept racing against the odds in her life. She could see only darkness when she closed her eyes, darkness with no dreams in them. Vivid memories flashed intermittent with the darkness. Memories of a time when she was not ignored, memories where she felt good about herself. Memories of a time when she did not feel hollow but she had her dreams to herself, who cared when they were becoming true! “You are my only love!” Love and lies, are they two sides of the same coin? Maybe so! It was just the first time she was witnessing it. Like some ugly facts she was still unaware of. But now she knew of them all.
She was scared to sleep off. She was left with none of her dreams. What if those eyes never opened up to see the living world too? She would then be without reality and dreams. She was already without an identity! She was tired, by heart and by health. Chances were there she could never awake to a new better day and keep moving on alive! The kind night continued in her restlessness and the sleeplessness. At least she realized it was all over, for good!
She was born with a dream. To be a career woman, to be financially sound and independent some day! This might be the valid dream to all middle-class college-going girls, but she had wished for more. She had dreamt of being loved. She had wanted love, concern and security. She was willing to invest her life for it! She had just one mantra with her- “I am so jealous of those girls who earn well and are also in love! Wish I could be one of those someday! ” But what was she to expect security from an undergraduate? Neither by finance nor through commitments! Vishal, Vishal Rohtak was but an undergraduate and just 22. He was pursuing his last year of engineering in automobiles. She belonged to the same college, final year architecture. She was 21 and seemed so ready for relations, romance and all those wishes she had been living all through her life. She was already there, committed and happy! How difficult is it for two people with poles-apart differences to madly fall in love? What are the odds that they promise to stay by each other’s side, all through their lives? She was that control freak, organized, hygienic and sensible. He was that guy-next-door persona, caring and confused. If he couldn’t even select which dress to wear, she was one of that one-woman-army, capable of taking care of him and her career! But love did happen between the two. They spent endless hours talking. They went out of words to describe how they missed each other when the other one was not around. They dreamt together, dreams of togetherness. Together they dared to realize them all. She started weaving those dreams into their lives. They couldn’t have been better! Finally they moved in together. They just couldn’t bear being separate any more. They were meant to be one, two lives and one living! They say- all good things do come to an end! And it did, slowly and quietly. She couldn’t have realized it if not for his confused state of mind. He preferred not to have priorities in life. At least she could never prove herself to be one of his priorities, if he had any few of it. He had always been unsure, now, even unsure of having her in his life. What are the odds of two people who were in love splitting up? What are the odds of arguments leading to fights and worse? Different people do attract each other, but they remain different. With time the differences grow. They have to finally end up altogether different. So different that they define their own territories and not let the other person to even peek into it. What are the odds of this happening then? That is one situational comedy! She could no longer stay with him. His feelings for her had ceased to live up to her expectations. She has been always blamed of expecting too much from her petite life and the world. But her expectations kept her alive! Did she expect him to be hers forever one day? Did she want to, some day, walk down that holy aisle with him? Did she expect their affair to be a one-never-ending-story? Sure! But time had undone her and she decided to move out. Expectations hurt you in the end. They are even worse than those castles built in the air. Expectations worry you. They always remind you- Dreams hardly come true in real life!
This was her last night with him. “I bought her gifts today!” he smiled. “Yeah? I saw the bills! She must have really liked it. You should have done that to me as well for once, at least for our anniversary last Friday?” What if he has been seeing the other girl for the past 7 days, right on her face? “You better get used to being kind and caring to whoever you are with from now on.” He continued to smile, “Sorry! I have been too harsh on you lately”. Tonight he was kind to her, for which she was not grateful. She deserved much better a treatment. Who was she to join the big-mouthed bandwagon of those ill-hearted men who decide what suit whose life? She never knew right from wrong. She never had the time or the heart to think over it. All she knew was she was in love. Being sincere and honest was what truth was to her. How could she claim hers was the most true love even when he, the one whom she most wanted to relate herself to, failed to know her. Maybe he did at one time, never now! She wanted to stay still in his arms but she couldn’t stop her tears! “Richa! Are you all right? Don’t cry please!” Maybe those were her feelings, melting away as they won’t be able to abide by the excruciated beats of her heart. “I just can’t stop it. Tonight, let me!” He held her hands tighter- “everything will be all right!” It was time she moved on. It was time she thanked her stars for having granted her these precious moments, with him! It was time she stopped loving him! If only the whole thing was that simple!
She was trying to wrap herself up. She had been just too much into her own world. She had imagined they had formed a cozy little world of their own, far from all those do’s and don’ts. Now she realized- the dream was only hers. He had never been that involved in her life, the way she had adsorbed his life to herself! Now it was hard for her to come out of it at all. They discussed the pros and cons of live-in relationships. Now she could be a part of that discussion! She could be one of those examples of how “love” can let you down. Many a times she was blamed. “You are just too insecure Richa! She is just a friend. Why won’t you trust me? What do you want me to do?” That would come as a blow to a lady who claimed to be sensitive, sophisticated and understanding. And it did. Or was it true that people who are too much into loving someone are the ones who always turn out to be insecure, jealous and crazy? “You better mind it! Do you think I can’t make out friendship from flirting? You know that she is a player right?” You would say she herself invited trouble by walking such a tight rope; she never ignored this fact though. She owned everything to herself. She had done her part of sacrifices to keep them together and going. Now it was up to him. He did his part too, not in her favor and now she was out of his life!
Usually she would prefer a high pitched quarrel. Tonight, her voice was shrill and shaking with emotions. She didn’t want to speak. Those words always remained words to him. It never meant a feeling or an emotion. They could never be understood and she was always the abusive speaker, argumentative and unwanted. Yet tonight was the night she had to say something. “I was so much in love with you. Never saw this coming! I am not altogether surprised, but this is happening all so suddenly. I was always prepared for this but you have to give me some time to get used to this”. He smiled. His smile stood for all of his stubbornness and negligence. It lacked the warmth of a healthy smile. Rather it kept reminding her that he was relieved to have her out of his life. She could easily tell it was sympathy. Who feeds sympathy in place of love? Maybe those ex-lovers who want to take pity on their spouses whom they are ditching! Her tears still came running down. Some day she had to see this too. Fair enough! She had been that insightful whore- over protective, over concerned and with an excess dose of love. Who could have tolerated that? Everyone has the right to roam free on this earth. One should select whom to sleep and spend time with as per one’s choice and tastes. That can keep changing. If you live in a world of “no rules”, there is not such a strict definition of love or commitment or for that matter betrayal. Maybe the risks run higher if you are living in your own make-believe world where you imagine and expect that love is to be delivered with love.
“I always liked her. But I used to feel guilty for you. Now I just can’t stop myself from nearing her. This is just the beginning. It could get worse for you.” This must have been what being speechless must feel like! She replied soft, “I got it, just be sure you are not wasting your time! You have always made me sound like a mistake. Let me just be a past, not a past mistake. You could at least remember me as your roomy?” This must have been like smearing insult over your own injury, a painless way to exterminate your own will and self-confidence. She felt more guilty for herself! All this time he was feeling like a caged bird? It would have been difficult for her to brand her care and concern aristocracy! But somewhere down the line she was also responsible for saturating him to all his limits of endurance. She knew it and owned all irregularities to herself. Did she have a choice? “Don’t even make it obligatory to try and help me. I was always good without you too, maybe even better!” Those were words to console him, if that was at all required!
From the moment she came to know of his affair 7 days back, her life had been a torture to her. It was a classmate’s birthday party. They were invited as a couple. Half the gathering knew they were living in. Yet some of them still knew he was showing lesser and lesser interest in her, of late. Why on earth else should she spend 2 hours of the party all by herself, at that dark wretched corner while he was to enjoy all the wine and the “new lady” in their lives? And later to be blamed again, “Can’t you be a little social at least sometimes? Why do you act like the party should have been thrown according to your mood? You act so immature sometimes!” That was another blow to her sensitivity.
But at least she could have been a little more social. Even though she was burning inside, and her world was tearing apart. She still could have flaunted one of those class-oriented wine glasses, flirted with all the men around and seek some casual courtship. That would have made her more social. Who keeps sticking around to their spouses the whole party, when she was not even his wife! Society and social norms- they were coming down on to her like an explicitly and intricately designed mystery, offering her all sorts of pain, baring none of the worst! This was not the first party she had to keep mum about. But this was the last party she would keep herself tolerating. After 3 years of living together, she did not want him to reduce her status to that of the “other lady” in his life.
The truth remains the fact that she was helpless. She did not try to help herself either. All she tried was to end it all in a nice manner and move on, not that it was possible. Injuries heal and scars remain. Those scars remain, to remind you of a time you knew how to believe in love, how to trust someone with all your heart and how to simply depend on someone just because you love him. At that instant, she was reduced to a non existent eventuality. While all the time he was faking up love and living together? She felt like an over consumed and lifeless article of trade.
“I can feel you are avoiding me so badly”, Richa spent her last speck of courage in letting him know her vulnerability. He still didn’t have much to conjecture- “It wouldn’t be fair if I want to love you now, is it?” “I am not trying to avoid you!” They made love, the last time. This was the way to part, at least for him. She didn’t say no, she never could. Today was the day she was left alone, with no dreams with her. No sign of a good future or a good groom. She couldn’t feel him anymore. It felt like a stranger feeling her body, a stranger who had been with her from always; but she used to feel him at one time! If only she and her heart could sense this future!
Vishal had slept off. “Try to get some good sleep all right. Rest a bit if you can!” She still couldn’t sleep a bit, not for this week at least. So much had happened to her so quickly. She couldn’t think of sleep or food. That would have been an overhead to her already pathetic brain!
Everything was in a sorry state- her mind her heart and her life. Her mind kept racing against the odds in her life. She could see only darkness when she closed her eyes, darkness with no dreams in them. Vivid memories flashed intermittent with the darkness. Memories of a time when she was not ignored, memories where she felt good about herself. Memories of a time when she did not feel hollow but she had her dreams to herself, who cared when they were becoming true! “You are my only love!” Love and lies, are they two sides of the same coin? Maybe so! It was just the first time she was witnessing it. Like some ugly facts she was still unaware of. But now she knew of them all.
She was scared to sleep off. She was left with none of her dreams. What if those eyes never opened up to see the living world too? She would then be without reality and dreams. She was already without an identity! She was tired, by heart and by health. Chances were there she could never awake to a new better day and keep moving on alive! The kind night continued in her restlessness and the sleeplessness. At least she realized it was all over, for good!
Sunday, April 20, 2008
BORN FREE
I am an ardent animal lover. More so if they are in some sort of difficulty, and by difficulty I mean all sort of earthly difficulties! I admire nature, the way it is. I like the fancy fishes and their varieties in the sea, their natural habitat, not those captured lives in a tank. Why only fishes? Every human and every living being need to be “free”. How can a life which is “born-free” be chained? India is still considered a land of snake-charmers, which is still true to a certain extent! I was going through this news report; it said that the officials (let me not call them care takers) of a certain zoo were having a hard time searching for a potential mate for their female king cobra, supposedly a celebrity! She has been with them for quite some time. People flock up to the zoo to offer prayers to her. The zoo is certain of increasing its income next year as they are expecting a bigger crowd (who will be charged to see and worship her!). The big plan is to imprison a life and make her worshipped? Breed her to yield more king cobras and increase the income further more? I would not offer her milk and pray for my upliftment, rather pray for her to be able to run “free”, in the wild, as is the law of nature! We need to “free” all those lives, including ours, which we have chained in our own selfish ways to beget “freedom”, of the physical body and of the soul. And why only humans, even humanity itself needs to be “free”.
To be free is to know that you are breathing the right air needed to sustain life, while keeping all of dignity and fundamentals intact. To be free is not about doing what the mind tells. It is rather to follow your heart (and let my heart be the one I trust to be my sole guide). It would be unfair on our part to define “freedom” the way it is comfortable for each one of us. If the Goa government feels a young girl was unnecessarily practicing her “freedom” at a foreign country at the wee hours of that eventful night, maybe they are true. That Scarlett was a minor and was on a vacation to India is sad. But the picture perfect and posh image of Goa is sure under threat. What people do for a vacation and how "Tourism" in Goa cater to everyone is horrifying! The mother of the deceased, Fiona McKeon was “free” enough to leave her child in a place where there were an evident number of risks, while she herself continued with her vacation! But also those accused men! They were enough “free”, at their own will, to have done the blunder to the young girl. This was certainly a case where individual boundaries of “freedom” clashed, loud enough to send alarms to the whole world!
I would be fraudulent if I say I never saw a day when I defined my own “freedom” for myself, as we all had at some point of our lives, over certain issues. But thankfully that did not lead to any major controversy in my life or to those of others! I do feel the urge to shout out sometimes, over so many issues, both personal and otherwise. I do feel the compulsive need to just break “free” at my own will! If only I could demarcate the margin of my “freedom” in such a way so as not to collide with that of my parents, or my friends or the world or anything. Alas! That is not possible! I don’t want to hurt any of them! That I care enough for them gives me peace, relief and a sense of freedom, freedom from insanity and guilt. I don’t put into practice my liberty just to be free, rather I feel free to enjoy my freedom.
Freedom wouldn’t be still something out of the world. The Tibetans have been staging one of the most peaceful protests ever in the world, for over decades, against the cultural atrocity brought upon it by China. The Dalai Lama and his supporters had to flee from their own country just to preserve an ancient and rich culture. Maybe they were not heard enough till now. I don’t go on to tell why this is a major concern for the world at this instant. Despite all such circumstances, this immense persona called the Dalai Lama still manages to maintain his composure and a tranquil smile on his face. Is that because he is in constant touch with his “freedom”? He can still think in his pristine directions as he is “free” from the many worries that bug us all, thus not allowing the mind and the heart to think in communion.
If I may mention here, the Dalai Lama says and I quote- “… I have found that the greatest degree of inner tranquility comes from the development of love and compassion. ... The more we care for the happiness of others, the greater our own sense of well-being becomes. Cultivating a close, warmhearted feeling for others automatically puts the mind at ease”. This should be a benchmark for us all seeking our own “freedom”!
When I lost my grandmother to cancer, I couldn’t think of a period of time when I would be fine with the notion that she is no longer with me. That grief and pain still continue to haunt me, although time, the healer it is, has done his share in consoling me. Priyanka Vadra Gandhi must have been quite proud of his father, even then, when she was only six and more so now when she is fully aware of the nuances of politics. The late Rajiv Gandhi was not only a father but also a person respected by millions for his credibility and the sense of love for his countrymen and the world. Then came the assassination- 700 grams of RDX blew up a whole eventful saga. How the Gandhi family coped up with this is beyond my knowledge. Recent reports told Priyanka met Nalini, an accused in the assassination plot. She was innocent but nonetheless involved, directly or indirectly. Priyanka has set a new paradigm of setting oneself “free” from hatred and one’s own elapsed memory. I cannot but marvel at her guts and integrity.
Freedom is to come at terms with one self. Freedom is in not fighting with oneself over why I don’t accept and admire myself the way that I am. Rather it is in accepting the concept that life is too beautiful to be spent without love, care and understanding! Rather it is in accepting that to follow the heart is way better off then to follow the brain! Then is only one “free”, to that very core of freedom!
It is futile to count the number of idols that we worship in the name of religion. While I am not an atheist myself, I hardly pay for the flowers and all the offerings made to any of the pristine “idols”! We are then back to square one, where India was still a land of snake charmers and idol worshippers. I was reading a news report (once again) that stated that the number of temples in the state is much more than the number of schools and hospitals taken together! While God is omnipresent, I would rather say that the Almighty might not need such number of temples just to be the guarding and guiding aura of all the living beings on this earth. If I had to remember my parents, do I offer them gifts in front of their portraits or just close my eyes and pray (to God, the owner of my heart and soul,) for their safety and happiness? This is the case maybe where we need to “free” our mind of all worries and just pray! A prayer to erase all pain and hatred, a prayer to uplift ourselves a prayer to love and adore ourselves and a prayer to be free. Chaining ourselves wouldn’t be the next best thing. Remember? We were all born-free?
To be free is to know that you are breathing the right air needed to sustain life, while keeping all of dignity and fundamentals intact. To be free is not about doing what the mind tells. It is rather to follow your heart (and let my heart be the one I trust to be my sole guide). It would be unfair on our part to define “freedom” the way it is comfortable for each one of us. If the Goa government feels a young girl was unnecessarily practicing her “freedom” at a foreign country at the wee hours of that eventful night, maybe they are true. That Scarlett was a minor and was on a vacation to India is sad. But the picture perfect and posh image of Goa is sure under threat. What people do for a vacation and how "Tourism" in Goa cater to everyone is horrifying! The mother of the deceased, Fiona McKeon was “free” enough to leave her child in a place where there were an evident number of risks, while she herself continued with her vacation! But also those accused men! They were enough “free”, at their own will, to have done the blunder to the young girl. This was certainly a case where individual boundaries of “freedom” clashed, loud enough to send alarms to the whole world!
I would be fraudulent if I say I never saw a day when I defined my own “freedom” for myself, as we all had at some point of our lives, over certain issues. But thankfully that did not lead to any major controversy in my life or to those of others! I do feel the urge to shout out sometimes, over so many issues, both personal and otherwise. I do feel the compulsive need to just break “free” at my own will! If only I could demarcate the margin of my “freedom” in such a way so as not to collide with that of my parents, or my friends or the world or anything. Alas! That is not possible! I don’t want to hurt any of them! That I care enough for them gives me peace, relief and a sense of freedom, freedom from insanity and guilt. I don’t put into practice my liberty just to be free, rather I feel free to enjoy my freedom.
Freedom wouldn’t be still something out of the world. The Tibetans have been staging one of the most peaceful protests ever in the world, for over decades, against the cultural atrocity brought upon it by China. The Dalai Lama and his supporters had to flee from their own country just to preserve an ancient and rich culture. Maybe they were not heard enough till now. I don’t go on to tell why this is a major concern for the world at this instant. Despite all such circumstances, this immense persona called the Dalai Lama still manages to maintain his composure and a tranquil smile on his face. Is that because he is in constant touch with his “freedom”? He can still think in his pristine directions as he is “free” from the many worries that bug us all, thus not allowing the mind and the heart to think in communion.
If I may mention here, the Dalai Lama says and I quote- “… I have found that the greatest degree of inner tranquility comes from the development of love and compassion. ... The more we care for the happiness of others, the greater our own sense of well-being becomes. Cultivating a close, warmhearted feeling for others automatically puts the mind at ease”. This should be a benchmark for us all seeking our own “freedom”!
When I lost my grandmother to cancer, I couldn’t think of a period of time when I would be fine with the notion that she is no longer with me. That grief and pain still continue to haunt me, although time, the healer it is, has done his share in consoling me. Priyanka Vadra Gandhi must have been quite proud of his father, even then, when she was only six and more so now when she is fully aware of the nuances of politics. The late Rajiv Gandhi was not only a father but also a person respected by millions for his credibility and the sense of love for his countrymen and the world. Then came the assassination- 700 grams of RDX blew up a whole eventful saga. How the Gandhi family coped up with this is beyond my knowledge. Recent reports told Priyanka met Nalini, an accused in the assassination plot. She was innocent but nonetheless involved, directly or indirectly. Priyanka has set a new paradigm of setting oneself “free” from hatred and one’s own elapsed memory. I cannot but marvel at her guts and integrity.
Freedom is to come at terms with one self. Freedom is in not fighting with oneself over why I don’t accept and admire myself the way that I am. Rather it is in accepting the concept that life is too beautiful to be spent without love, care and understanding! Rather it is in accepting that to follow the heart is way better off then to follow the brain! Then is only one “free”, to that very core of freedom!
It is futile to count the number of idols that we worship in the name of religion. While I am not an atheist myself, I hardly pay for the flowers and all the offerings made to any of the pristine “idols”! We are then back to square one, where India was still a land of snake charmers and idol worshippers. I was reading a news report (once again) that stated that the number of temples in the state is much more than the number of schools and hospitals taken together! While God is omnipresent, I would rather say that the Almighty might not need such number of temples just to be the guarding and guiding aura of all the living beings on this earth. If I had to remember my parents, do I offer them gifts in front of their portraits or just close my eyes and pray (to God, the owner of my heart and soul,) for their safety and happiness? This is the case maybe where we need to “free” our mind of all worries and just pray! A prayer to erase all pain and hatred, a prayer to uplift ourselves a prayer to love and adore ourselves and a prayer to be free. Chaining ourselves wouldn’t be the next best thing. Remember? We were all born-free?
Monday, April 14, 2008
Different Stereotypes:
So what is “difference” or “being different”? I did not want my article to come with a safety “disclaimer” but maybe it is better this way. I am not here to comment on the “northies” being chased out of Maharashtra or them being brutally murdered in Assam and Manipur. Nor am I here to give my insights on the age old “north-south” debate. They say stereotyping is nothing but assimilation (reducing differences within a group) and contrast (blowing up differences between groups). Maybe that’s true or maybe not!
Media, to some extent, is responsible for the glorification of this stereotyping of people and their differences! So there is a Masterji in Padosan, with all the I-am-the-loser because I-am-from-the-south humor. And all the characters of Chak de with that let-us-be-Indians sarcasm or the north family and south family war in ek duje ke liye. Or for that matter those sarcastically funny south indian characters in comics books like Tinkle digest who are shown to be all Hindu priests and all orthodox, all the time. Stereotypes! But yes when it comes to reality everyone knows that in the present scenario, Bollywood is only money and is short of brains given the astoundingly original and fresh Telegu and Tamil flicks being produced.
In this North-south never-ending debate the east and the west seems to be slowly subsided though. Like a student clears his doubt in class and a conversation slowly develops between him and the teacher and the rest of the class evidently goes off to sleep! So do I suggest a south, a north, an east, a west and a north east stereotypes’ clash? For god’s sake, no!
Like in the word “assimilation”, the term “North-East” itself is very misleading. The seven states (Sikkim now regarded as the 8th) are taken as a single entity, which is definitely not. The cultural diversity in these states is but gothic. The languages/dialects spoken, the ethics and the varied beliefs of the communities in this region surpasses the word “cultural diversity” itself in all its sense. I am not sad that Bollywood is unfair in not including them as in humor (or mockery or as otherwise)! But yes these people are surely taken for granted, by Bollywood or otherwise. I am not proud of the fact that they are underdeveloped, yet I am not ashamed of it either. Because whatever is the case, I cannot say Delhi or Bangalore is my birthplace. I received so much from them that Delhi or for that matter New York has not given me so much!
Inhabitants from the “mainland India” fail to know these places or is ignorance really a bliss? People seem to be anticipatory of these places and the people out there (as in we all are about aliens from Mars). I am by now tired of explaining to people where Imphal (the capital of Manipur) is. Once I was asked by this friend if my house is on the peak or the foot of some mountain! Somebody else did enquire me if we can find any sea (as in the Caribbean Sea) out there! So then, should I distribute India maps to show where I was born or the world globe to point out the various seas on the earth? I don’t think that would be wise.
So people from the “North-East” eat fermented food (the odour is hideous to many others); but so does all the mongoloid races in all the east countries. Let us forget about being unfair, but stereotyping based on taste buds is yet another something! If there are bamboo shoot pickle recipes, there are also bamboo, cane and silk industries. The upbringing is generally more open, frank and self dependent. Girls are more open and marriage is totally an individual’s choice. So the stereotype goes as those wearing western dresses, hippie-cultured and soccer playing. I don’t play soccer and I write poems, so then Am I out of place? Which stereotype do I follow then? I am different then, since I do not fall into one of those many patterns. “Differences” can be so tricky sometimes!
When I was in high school, I used to be a tinkle-digest fan. They showed a shaven-head-pony-tailed and fat bellied priest Tenali Raman and his wife as typical (stereotyped) south Indians. I learnt that here names are really long because they include the father’s name, the grandfather’s name or even the village’s name. My curiosity knew no bounds to discover more of such names and the places itself. I knew about Mysore and its kings from my history classes. Tipu Sultan, the tiger of Mysore looked so appealing in the TV series with his huge kingdom, his huge durbar and all the battles he won. I thought of south India as idli-dosa and strict religious disciplines and temples with all their festivities and Onam snake boat races and Carnatic music and the Kathak dance. Now I came to know that they were actually all true, and that I still need to learn so much more. The stereotype is idli-dosa but yes the Konkani fish and prawns served (as in my room mate’s house in Udupi) are heaven’s recipes. So there! Stereotypes are again different from the reality and the truth.
This friend of mine thought “Naga” is a word derived from the word “nanga”, naked for Hindi (What? And, oh no dear!) Apparently they don’t need any clothes running around, naked among the trees in the jungles and hills! One time, this person thought of the nagas as a group of terrorists (as in LTTE). Poor them who are misunderstood, poorer them who are ignorant! Another friend “guessed” the Manipuri language has no script of its own (little did he know there are two Manipuri scripts!). So again, imagination and guesses are different from facts! Surely, ignorance is bliss; but this friend of mine knew of Ratan Thiyam, the famous theatre personality from the “North-East”. I suppose it has less to do with regions than it is about people and their individual logic.
This friend of mine thinks my community service is a waste, while I find his playing cricket a worse waste. I don’t even want to think on how “different” our opinions will be on other issues like regionalism or politics (given that he is from Lucknow and I am from Imphal). The stereotypes that we follow, and our individual views are sure to clash. Rather than comparing our differences, I feel it is better if I start to adjust myself to the fact that people can be different and that they should be. Or else I have to start stereotyping myself as a different stereotype. Don’t even get me started on the North and the “North-east” (and their different stereotypes)!
Media, to some extent, is responsible for the glorification of this stereotyping of people and their differences! So there is a Masterji in Padosan, with all the I-am-the-loser because I-am-from-the-south humor. And all the characters of Chak de with that let-us-be-Indians sarcasm or the north family and south family war in ek duje ke liye. Or for that matter those sarcastically funny south indian characters in comics books like Tinkle digest who are shown to be all Hindu priests and all orthodox, all the time. Stereotypes! But yes when it comes to reality everyone knows that in the present scenario, Bollywood is only money and is short of brains given the astoundingly original and fresh Telegu and Tamil flicks being produced.
In this North-south never-ending debate the east and the west seems to be slowly subsided though. Like a student clears his doubt in class and a conversation slowly develops between him and the teacher and the rest of the class evidently goes off to sleep! So do I suggest a south, a north, an east, a west and a north east stereotypes’ clash? For god’s sake, no!
Like in the word “assimilation”, the term “North-East” itself is very misleading. The seven states (Sikkim now regarded as the 8th) are taken as a single entity, which is definitely not. The cultural diversity in these states is but gothic. The languages/dialects spoken, the ethics and the varied beliefs of the communities in this region surpasses the word “cultural diversity” itself in all its sense. I am not sad that Bollywood is unfair in not including them as in humor (or mockery or as otherwise)! But yes these people are surely taken for granted, by Bollywood or otherwise. I am not proud of the fact that they are underdeveloped, yet I am not ashamed of it either. Because whatever is the case, I cannot say Delhi or Bangalore is my birthplace. I received so much from them that Delhi or for that matter New York has not given me so much!
Inhabitants from the “mainland India” fail to know these places or is ignorance really a bliss? People seem to be anticipatory of these places and the people out there (as in we all are about aliens from Mars). I am by now tired of explaining to people where Imphal (the capital of Manipur) is. Once I was asked by this friend if my house is on the peak or the foot of some mountain! Somebody else did enquire me if we can find any sea (as in the Caribbean Sea) out there! So then, should I distribute India maps to show where I was born or the world globe to point out the various seas on the earth? I don’t think that would be wise.
So people from the “North-East” eat fermented food (the odour is hideous to many others); but so does all the mongoloid races in all the east countries. Let us forget about being unfair, but stereotyping based on taste buds is yet another something! If there are bamboo shoot pickle recipes, there are also bamboo, cane and silk industries. The upbringing is generally more open, frank and self dependent. Girls are more open and marriage is totally an individual’s choice. So the stereotype goes as those wearing western dresses, hippie-cultured and soccer playing. I don’t play soccer and I write poems, so then Am I out of place? Which stereotype do I follow then? I am different then, since I do not fall into one of those many patterns. “Differences” can be so tricky sometimes!
When I was in high school, I used to be a tinkle-digest fan. They showed a shaven-head-pony-tailed and fat bellied priest Tenali Raman and his wife as typical (stereotyped) south Indians. I learnt that here names are really long because they include the father’s name, the grandfather’s name or even the village’s name. My curiosity knew no bounds to discover more of such names and the places itself. I knew about Mysore and its kings from my history classes. Tipu Sultan, the tiger of Mysore looked so appealing in the TV series with his huge kingdom, his huge durbar and all the battles he won. I thought of south India as idli-dosa and strict religious disciplines and temples with all their festivities and Onam snake boat races and Carnatic music and the Kathak dance. Now I came to know that they were actually all true, and that I still need to learn so much more. The stereotype is idli-dosa but yes the Konkani fish and prawns served (as in my room mate’s house in Udupi) are heaven’s recipes. So there! Stereotypes are again different from the reality and the truth.
This friend of mine thought “Naga” is a word derived from the word “nanga”, naked for Hindi (What? And, oh no dear!) Apparently they don’t need any clothes running around, naked among the trees in the jungles and hills! One time, this person thought of the nagas as a group of terrorists (as in LTTE). Poor them who are misunderstood, poorer them who are ignorant! Another friend “guessed” the Manipuri language has no script of its own (little did he know there are two Manipuri scripts!). So again, imagination and guesses are different from facts! Surely, ignorance is bliss; but this friend of mine knew of Ratan Thiyam, the famous theatre personality from the “North-East”. I suppose it has less to do with regions than it is about people and their individual logic.
This friend of mine thinks my community service is a waste, while I find his playing cricket a worse waste. I don’t even want to think on how “different” our opinions will be on other issues like regionalism or politics (given that he is from Lucknow and I am from Imphal). The stereotypes that we follow, and our individual views are sure to clash. Rather than comparing our differences, I feel it is better if I start to adjust myself to the fact that people can be different and that they should be. Or else I have to start stereotyping myself as a different stereotype. Don’t even get me started on the North and the “North-east” (and their different stereotypes)!
via SMS
Love, romance- they all sound so abstract. I don’t really know what acting coy is but I do know how to SMS. Poems, feelings and emotions are but “text” to me and colorful umbrellas and chocolates and soft big teddy bears are but my SMSs. SMSs are my white doves, with those “messages” tied to their legs with bright shiny strings, they are my electronic love letters, a royal way to flirt which even kings could not device!
It all started one day when we became good friends and I gave her my mobile number! She SMSed that eventful night! I had watched a wretched movie that evening; we discussed over it. Then when it was late night she sent her last SMS “GN TC.. SD” (roughly decoded as Good Night Take Care Sweet Dreams). Bells started to ring, songs commenced, sea waves and happiness flooded me! That night, my dreams had me running, hand in hand with her, across lush green meadows and rose gardens. Spring had come in my life! Then came that phase of my life- the sleepless-nights’ era. Whole night the light from my mobile phone will be flickering, “sending, sent, delivered” or “message received, text reply”. Those SMSs made me happy, they made me cry. They were riddles, anecdotes, wishes, both personally crafted and typed or carefully selected forwards. Day and night, train, buses, classrooms or the street- any time any where, her SMSs were expected. Those bad networking problems did trouble me but I kept my expectations alive, and my expectations kept me alive!
Calendar pages flipped, days and months went by and we continued SMS flirting. We grew SMS close. “buddy” replaced “hey”, “dear” replaced buddy, and I replaced dear with “sweetie”! We even started giving those odd timing missed calls! My SMSs started to mean so much to me that I never ever realized the need to actually meet her up, outside classes or outside the college, not even once! It did not flash my mind even once that people actually get really shy and coy during the actual flirting. I was proud (and rather safe), literally, to be into such encounters where shame and logic are areas of less concern. But those silly ideas did get my sleepless nights more sleepless. Are we ever going to express ourselves, face to face, verbally in some one-on-one conservation? Are we really serious? Whatever was the reasonable case, we were both enjoying it intensely (at least I was!). The only thing in SMS flirting is that you really tend to act and become like the person you were always jealous of. Looks tend to take a back seat! You tend to act out a lot because in reality you can never find out what the other person’s doing when she tells she is really missing you. It could be a roughly fake thing to say as you never know what the expressions at the other end are. But then again, this risk is everywhere; the butcher might tell the previous night’s meat as instant-fresh with that big innocent smile on his face, you can never really tell what is in a person’s head. It is just so that that risk is a bit more in case of SMS romance. What is (my) life without risks?
Soon came autumn and along followed winter. Those seasons when trees shed their leaves, looking all barren. It was the season of exams when I had to flip through the pages of my books as well, in between the usual typing for my expectations- my SMSs. The mobile company turned hostile. They cancelled on the plans of free SMSs. I was charged for keeping my life alive with my expectations, for being in love! Ah! Damn you cruel, business-minded corporate world! Why on earth was I shown the way to SMS love if you had to cut my throat in the process? I was one of those pilots whose plane hit a crazy loitering eagle up above the sky on his first day of flight! I was like that treasure hunter who went lost in the sahara desert because his careless caretaker lost the compass! I was a ship. Half sunk in the ocean water and waiting for itself to float up, once few passengers jumped into the water. I was all of those syndromes you could use to describe hopelessness and helplessness! But my expectations kept going even costlier and dearer to me. Those lush green plains and cowboy-settings in my dreams got all extinct. They got replaced by a concrete cubicle- the ATM. I dreamt of cash withdrawals and easy recharging. I still kept my hopes and expectations alive.
Alas! Things had changed. My fate turned me down. She stopped SMSing me! My world came crashing down. Hopes and expectations got badly beaten. Her emotions got dried up in the whole no-more-free-SMSs fiasco. I dearly wished we could continue, in some way at least! Till today, I don’t blame her. It was all due to the ugly mobile corporate who did not consider strangling the lives of all time SMS lovers in their cheap desire of making SMSing pricy. She was innocent. Or at least, I want to reminiscence of her as having sent me all her love, via the SMS!
It all started one day when we became good friends and I gave her my mobile number! She SMSed that eventful night! I had watched a wretched movie that evening; we discussed over it. Then when it was late night she sent her last SMS “GN TC.. SD” (roughly decoded as Good Night Take Care Sweet Dreams). Bells started to ring, songs commenced, sea waves and happiness flooded me! That night, my dreams had me running, hand in hand with her, across lush green meadows and rose gardens. Spring had come in my life! Then came that phase of my life- the sleepless-nights’ era. Whole night the light from my mobile phone will be flickering, “sending, sent, delivered” or “message received, text reply”. Those SMSs made me happy, they made me cry. They were riddles, anecdotes, wishes, both personally crafted and typed or carefully selected forwards. Day and night, train, buses, classrooms or the street- any time any where, her SMSs were expected. Those bad networking problems did trouble me but I kept my expectations alive, and my expectations kept me alive!
Calendar pages flipped, days and months went by and we continued SMS flirting. We grew SMS close. “buddy” replaced “hey”, “dear” replaced buddy, and I replaced dear with “sweetie”! We even started giving those odd timing missed calls! My SMSs started to mean so much to me that I never ever realized the need to actually meet her up, outside classes or outside the college, not even once! It did not flash my mind even once that people actually get really shy and coy during the actual flirting. I was proud (and rather safe), literally, to be into such encounters where shame and logic are areas of less concern. But those silly ideas did get my sleepless nights more sleepless. Are we ever going to express ourselves, face to face, verbally in some one-on-one conservation? Are we really serious? Whatever was the reasonable case, we were both enjoying it intensely (at least I was!). The only thing in SMS flirting is that you really tend to act and become like the person you were always jealous of. Looks tend to take a back seat! You tend to act out a lot because in reality you can never find out what the other person’s doing when she tells she is really missing you. It could be a roughly fake thing to say as you never know what the expressions at the other end are. But then again, this risk is everywhere; the butcher might tell the previous night’s meat as instant-fresh with that big innocent smile on his face, you can never really tell what is in a person’s head. It is just so that that risk is a bit more in case of SMS romance. What is (my) life without risks?
Soon came autumn and along followed winter. Those seasons when trees shed their leaves, looking all barren. It was the season of exams when I had to flip through the pages of my books as well, in between the usual typing for my expectations- my SMSs. The mobile company turned hostile. They cancelled on the plans of free SMSs. I was charged for keeping my life alive with my expectations, for being in love! Ah! Damn you cruel, business-minded corporate world! Why on earth was I shown the way to SMS love if you had to cut my throat in the process? I was one of those pilots whose plane hit a crazy loitering eagle up above the sky on his first day of flight! I was like that treasure hunter who went lost in the sahara desert because his careless caretaker lost the compass! I was a ship. Half sunk in the ocean water and waiting for itself to float up, once few passengers jumped into the water. I was all of those syndromes you could use to describe hopelessness and helplessness! But my expectations kept going even costlier and dearer to me. Those lush green plains and cowboy-settings in my dreams got all extinct. They got replaced by a concrete cubicle- the ATM. I dreamt of cash withdrawals and easy recharging. I still kept my hopes and expectations alive.
Alas! Things had changed. My fate turned me down. She stopped SMSing me! My world came crashing down. Hopes and expectations got badly beaten. Her emotions got dried up in the whole no-more-free-SMSs fiasco. I dearly wished we could continue, in some way at least! Till today, I don’t blame her. It was all due to the ugly mobile corporate who did not consider strangling the lives of all time SMS lovers in their cheap desire of making SMSing pricy. She was innocent. Or at least, I want to reminiscence of her as having sent me all her love, via the SMS!
Sunday, April 6, 2008
The AGM
The annual general body meeting, supposedly the first time in my life and the most disastrous one had me all in rags! It was supposed to be in some five star hotel, in another city. We were told to represent our students’ club. So, we were all high! Big people, big place and a befitting dinner. We did not take the financial liberty to take a luxury bus as they don’t refund so much and took the usual type. Our bus broke down on the way! All the nice fellow passengers, our neighbors, got down to take note of the situation and later to push the bus in an attempt to get it started (we were not really in mood so stayed inside only)! We or rather our bus reached the Bangalore outskirts by 6:45. Meeting was to start in another 15 mins. But the traffic of that eventful day was more ominous than our own intentions. We were not able to enter the heart of the city, that was where our hotel was situated. We were inside the bus for another 2 hours! The boredom and the numbness in my limbs crept out of me and went out to the city. The traffic got all the more static. Big cities are a big deal, more so their Saturdays. Eager people and their slow cars and all sort of vehicles , honking away, crawling like those turtles in the zoos weak due to eating nothing! In my fight to keep myself alive and my heart still pumping, I watched all the shops. I thought of window shopping. I watched the restaurants on the way. I thought of dining out there sometime just to increase my shoplifted (and branded) napkins. These happy feelings were not helping.
I wanted to jump out of the bus and run till my hotel. But there was no room left on the road for me to run there, so I stayed back! I watched every possible thing in sight. I even saw the guy at the last seat playing with his half chewed chewing gum. I could almost smell it, orbit gums I guessed. We reached finally and to our relief were on an auto, on the way to our meeting.
The meeting had started ages before. They were out of seats and out of those invitees’ kits (I was told I’wd get a coffee mug of good quality). I grabbed a glass of water to somehow console myself that I didn’t get the kit. The newly elected chairman was delivering a speech. He was telling how the student organizations under the Bangalore section were so un organised. We were in such a chaos that we don’t have the courtesy to reply back at their invitations to tell them to reserve those seats and kits and food for each one of us. He pointed at the late comers, precisely to me, just to cite an example! I started praying. Don’t make me seated, don’t gift me a memento but do not dare deprive me of that good five star food. Of course, the whole episode was very disturbing to one of my fellow friends who came with me. He felt it was our fault if we dint get food and begged the rest two of us to go and eat somewhere outside. I begged him more to stay. I was already in the long line for the buffet and could already smell the cuisines and feel the cold of the dessert! Food was not that great so I lifted a huge towel from one of the tables where the roasted chicken was being served. I am not really a kleptomaniac but just a napkin/souvenir collector! We were told to leave our names and addresses so that they send us our mementoes. I included my phone no also, just in case (just a napkin not really befits as a five star hotel-annual general body meeting souvenir)! We took pics too, for the showing to my friends and proof part.
Finally I found myself on an another bus for the return journey. We were a bunch of first timers, two of us greatly amused, the third all humiliated. We were all happy at the end, we were finally going back! I was the happiest, not because I had a roasted chicken smelling napkin in my bag, but also because I had a great experience!
I wanted to jump out of the bus and run till my hotel. But there was no room left on the road for me to run there, so I stayed back! I watched every possible thing in sight. I even saw the guy at the last seat playing with his half chewed chewing gum. I could almost smell it, orbit gums I guessed. We reached finally and to our relief were on an auto, on the way to our meeting.
The meeting had started ages before. They were out of seats and out of those invitees’ kits (I was told I’wd get a coffee mug of good quality). I grabbed a glass of water to somehow console myself that I didn’t get the kit. The newly elected chairman was delivering a speech. He was telling how the student organizations under the Bangalore section were so un organised. We were in such a chaos that we don’t have the courtesy to reply back at their invitations to tell them to reserve those seats and kits and food for each one of us. He pointed at the late comers, precisely to me, just to cite an example! I started praying. Don’t make me seated, don’t gift me a memento but do not dare deprive me of that good five star food. Of course, the whole episode was very disturbing to one of my fellow friends who came with me. He felt it was our fault if we dint get food and begged the rest two of us to go and eat somewhere outside. I begged him more to stay. I was already in the long line for the buffet and could already smell the cuisines and feel the cold of the dessert! Food was not that great so I lifted a huge towel from one of the tables where the roasted chicken was being served. I am not really a kleptomaniac but just a napkin/souvenir collector! We were told to leave our names and addresses so that they send us our mementoes. I included my phone no also, just in case (just a napkin not really befits as a five star hotel-annual general body meeting souvenir)! We took pics too, for the showing to my friends and proof part.
Finally I found myself on an another bus for the return journey. We were a bunch of first timers, two of us greatly amused, the third all humiliated. We were all happy at the end, we were finally going back! I was the happiest, not because I had a roasted chicken smelling napkin in my bag, but also because I had a great experience!
April 6, 2008
To
Santa Claus,
The North Pole.
Dear Santa Claus,
Subject: Now I realize!
Merry Christmas! Are you and your elves busy getting ready for the holidays? Me and my family sure is!
When I first came far away from my family I never realized… I am so typical. Somebody can say I am pampered, also short tempered or very rude. I claim to be caring and understanding. Some people don’t think so. They seem to reject every possible theory I put forward in my self appreciation. Why is this so? Do kindly provide me an answer to this. Thanks!
Also I wanted to keep a dog in place of my roomy. I promise to you (and also swear) I’ll take care of him nicely. Feed him and bath him, also brush him. But I just cant tolerate my roomy any more. Also is there a provision like only people whom I like come to attend classes in my college? Some of these college goers really irritate me. They hurt my sensibility! A lot, a lot!
Please... if you remember I prayed for the life longevity of certain people last year. Those of my "friends" have been very mean to me. I take back those prayers. You can punish them any time now if they continue to be mean to me. Its all right!!
I have been very good this year. This year at least, I hope you will bring me some fun-living.
Love
Disturbed ross
To
Santa Claus,
The North Pole.
Dear Santa Claus,
Subject: Now I realize!
Merry Christmas! Are you and your elves busy getting ready for the holidays? Me and my family sure is!
When I first came far away from my family I never realized… I am so typical. Somebody can say I am pampered, also short tempered or very rude. I claim to be caring and understanding. Some people don’t think so. They seem to reject every possible theory I put forward in my self appreciation. Why is this so? Do kindly provide me an answer to this. Thanks!
Also I wanted to keep a dog in place of my roomy. I promise to you (and also swear) I’ll take care of him nicely. Feed him and bath him, also brush him. But I just cant tolerate my roomy any more. Also is there a provision like only people whom I like come to attend classes in my college? Some of these college goers really irritate me. They hurt my sensibility! A lot, a lot!
Please... if you remember I prayed for the life longevity of certain people last year. Those of my "friends" have been very mean to me. I take back those prayers. You can punish them any time now if they continue to be mean to me. Its all right!!
I have been very good this year. This year at least, I hope you will bring me some fun-living.
Love
Disturbed ross
Love was never new to me
Love was never new to me. Seems like I was always in love! Claiming to be sensitive, sophisticated and someone actually getting what “love” is doesn’t help but! When you finally fell in love you realize it is nothing new other than the excruciating pain associated with it. The inability to help yourself and console yourself. All hell breaks lose. You lose control over logic and credibility to yourself (or for that matter you lose control over your mind!). Too much anticipation, inspiration from too many movies and too much of discussion let you think of it as something “tried and done”, which is not! Definitely not! It is really different. Not different different but painfully different. You claim you’ve known this person so well. You’ve been close for such and such period of time. And the next moment you realize you missed so and so major details of this person that you can’t trust yourself and your decision making capability. I don’t discourage people to trust others but also be sure of those so and so details of your spouse. Don’t realize it too late. Some actually realize it too late. So late that they are already standing, saying an ardent “yes” on the alter or already walking down the aisle (having done the “yes” part of course)!
So what the hell is my point? That’s my point! I have lost tract of all points having gotten into this love business. Initially it was all going out, promises and romance. Later still, I want to love and I am still in love but that fire is burning less and it is sort of a nightmare by now! I sound silly and dubious and lost. Well then how do I say now about the experience and wisdom I gained from my friends’ advices, the novels I read and the movies from my big buffer of “all time best romantic/love stories”? Am I still old with love. No! I am a big newbie. So now I give up my expertise status. All I do is put on my “amateur status” cap, put down the thinking cap and hang on. I am still in love; just the only difference is that I am now willing to discover love. I want to fall in love and get hurt and loved- but in an all together new way. No apprehensions, taking it the way my heart feels about my love! Love was never new to me!
So what the hell is my point? That’s my point! I have lost tract of all points having gotten into this love business. Initially it was all going out, promises and romance. Later still, I want to love and I am still in love but that fire is burning less and it is sort of a nightmare by now! I sound silly and dubious and lost. Well then how do I say now about the experience and wisdom I gained from my friends’ advices, the novels I read and the movies from my big buffer of “all time best romantic/love stories”? Am I still old with love. No! I am a big newbie. So now I give up my expertise status. All I do is put on my “amateur status” cap, put down the thinking cap and hang on. I am still in love; just the only difference is that I am now willing to discover love. I want to fall in love and get hurt and loved- but in an all together new way. No apprehensions, taking it the way my heart feels about my love! Love was never new to me!
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
