Friday, June 18, 2010

Kullu uncle is the best. He has always been my favourite uncle but that day, everyone agreed that he’s the best (even Faisal’s papa, who otherwise always criticized him, said ‘indeed, he is a great qrook!’), when he came home in his, and the whole town’s first Lamborghini Gallardo. Faisal’s elder brother Faraz had sent a message that the car was coming at the Gandhi crossing, so we (I, Faisal and four of our friends) took the shortcut through the fields (which was full of ditches and goat-shit) and got there enervated. But what to say of the people in my town; they are total bumpkins; an outsider would think they haven’t seen a car! There were all huddled up around the car so we could only manage a glimpse of that fierce yellow ‘animal’ but even that revitalized us. It looked marvelous and fresh; and we ran a long distance, from Bhiringi more to Ram Dhani’s tea stall, after that tan and shiny and sleek thing,. Then it outran us.
Later I heard Daljeet uncle saying outside Kullu uncle’s home, ‘She’s so sexy Kullu yaar’ when I and Faisal were sneaking a look through the holes in the gate as it was getting parked into the garage. She? Indeed this sardar is a stupid, I thought. Only yesterday Manju ma’am told us, ‘Listen boys, if you again use IT for persons, I will give you zero in the whole paper. It’s for non-living things.’ Before we realized, the guard charged us with his lathi and uttered his typical gali ‘suyar ke bacchon’. We were off with laughter before Faisal imitated him and said, ‘Bhag…teri ma ka’.
Kuldeep Santo Singh or Kullu uncle is always the best. He owns an AC (air-conditioner) in every room (papa said he had more rooms than all the homes in our slum) of his house which is named ‘Guru Ashram’. And if you are like Faisal who has never seen an AC room, I can tell you how is it like. It’s nothing but a big white box that holds on tightly and quietly to the wall, and opens and closes its mouth continuously. ‘It’s like a daemon’, that’s what my science teacher, Rajju sir said. ‘It breathes in the hot air, cools it and then breathes out the cool air.’ Papa said that uncle has AC in bathroom also but mom said that it’s not possible coz then one will catch cold and then papa scolded ma that she did not know Kullu uncle as well as he did. True. Mom and I are mostly asleep when Kullu uncle comes to our house.  Yes, that’s right, the richest (and fattest) uncle in the whole of our town comes down to see us atleast once every week and he never ever forgets to bring my favourite, big bar of Cadbury. I don’t know why mummy does not like it (twice she gave it to neighbor’s children). I share it only with Faisal and we try to save it (by eating little-little) till a week (although it gets very sticky). But still, I confess that it is less tasty than the Éclairs I had won from Faisal in that challenge; actually he did not believe a few days back that Kullu uncle, the richest (and fattest) uncle in the whole of our town came to our small home. He was mainly influenced by what everyone said about Kullu uncle; that he is selfish, arrogant and a murderer (and partly coz he thought he won’t fit in our door). Anyway, you should have seen his face then, as if he shit his own pants! And then he had to steal a coin from his Abba’s kurta to get me two éclairs.
Kullu uncle is the pride of our town. He has a big blue swimming pool behind his house. And unlike our Mahadevi pokhra (pond), you can see the hard cemented bottom without putting your head inside. At night, red bulbs light up from beneath and it looks like a large pool of Rooh-Afza. Faisal must have thought it was blood! He saw it when he worked as a plate- and glass-picker in Kullu uncle’s daughter’s marriage that was held beside the swimming pool. His father worked on the Pav-bhaji stall, but my family of course, was invited with honour and we were given AC room also. And only coz of me, did he get to eat three plates of Chicken Kabab, his favourite. What a marriage that was! But actually, I don’t want to recall it coz it makes me so sad. Without that day, I would still have been free in the world, eating panipuris with Faisal instead of this shit-like lunch they give me in this ‘Juvenile Prison’. You must be thinking what wrong did I do? Well, that’s a difficult question to answer coz I felt so right when I, with all my strength, dug the knife (which was on the salad table) into the left side of Kullu uncle’s chest (‘left part of your chest is the heart, the most important organ’, Rajju sir taught us). Blood oozed out like tomato sauce and everyone screamed.
Since I have told you now that uncle is dead, I will use ‘had’ instead of ‘has’ (I used ‘is’ and ‘has’ to keep up the suspense… )
Kullu uncle had a large, flat, rectangular (length more, breadth less) TV in every room in his house. Papa said that he had a TV in his bathroom also and this time, mom agreed. We had a small black and white TV but we rarely used it coz there was no electricity. The metal wire through which we ‘drew’ electricity from the overhead line, regularly fell down and then dad had to use a chair and wood (?) to carefully hang it back, and during that period you would have seen my mom’s face. She was scared like a goat and kept on bellowing at him to come down, as if he was going to die!
‘Can’t we buy a TV like Kullu uncle’s, ma?’ I asked her and she said (while running her hand through my hair- it felt good), ‘We will beta. You study hard, learn all Math and Science and one day, you can buy anything you want, even a house like that.’ I never corrected her by saying that Math was not learnt coz I already knew she was illiterate. But I also knew what the real problem was, the same that all slum-dwellers had; we did not have money. But that night when I got up due to sweating (the wire had fell down again) and went to toilet, I was proved wrong. As I was barefoot I felt something rough under my foot and jumped with fear (I thought it was a Scorpio). It wasn’t, so I picked that thing up and immediately recognized (by smell and touch – there was no light) that it was a 100-rupee note. At first I thought it was God who was conferring his blessings but when I climbed up the slab to check if there were more blessings, I was completely shocked! There was a bucket without the faintest drop of water. ALL MONEY (can you believe it?) I could not either. But then I was sure it was God; someone had rightly said ‘Bhagwan ke ghar mein der hai, andher nahi’, I always believed that we were kind people and that day God had rewarded us, I thanked Him with all my heart.
But today I know that I was wrong coz what followed was the dreariest night of my life. Quickly I went to wake up mom and dad to give them this happy surprise and can you believe it? There was not a hint of smile on either of their faces, and then followed the unexpected. Mom and dad fought incessantly and violently for one and a half hours in which mom got slapped and pulled by the hair several times. She sat on the floor and wept all along but never got tired of shouting at papa. ‘What papers, what papers?’ she kept on yelling like that mad woman who danced on our streets in tattered clothes. ‘What papers do you keep in our house for him?’ ‘You—you are not protecting him, you will get us killed’ ‘I will kill him’ her voice became hoarse due to screaming but she never stopped. Papa pretended to sleep and lay calmly on the bed from which he occasionally got up to beat her. I lay motionless beside him and breathed as feebly as possible so that he may fall asleep. But he didn’t. At 2.45 I think, she got up in a fit of madness and anger and dropped a burning matchstick into the bucket. Papa tried to douse it but despite all efforts (he did not use water) he could not and lastly when the bucket had turned black and smelled like burned milk, he did it. Forcibly, he put kerosene on ma and lighted her saree while she screamed and cried. For the first time in my life, I was scared to death. I ran for water but papa thrashed me so hard that I fell down. Ma too ran to bathroom but papa won’t let her in so ultimately she got out and ran and screamed like a ghost and fell down. I guess people were already outside but by the time, people doused the fire she was all black and burned and smelled bad. Then someone said, ‘Where is the motherfucker?’ And then the people in the slum beat my father like a pig until he stopped screaming. He was all in blood. I cried and begged, ‘Leave papa, leave him’ but no one stopped and then one man said something to Faisal’s father. Then I was yanked and taken away by him.
Kullu uncle’s daughter’s marriage was a day I cannot ever forget in my whole life. I had been waiting for this day for years but the sad death of my parents a day before it, gravely affected everything. The whole afternoon people kept coming to see me and console me and every now and then they would start, ‘Poor boy, how kind was your mother’, ‘once your father helped me out of this debt’, ‘I am like your dad son, don’t cry’ (I wasn’t crying) etc and the women unfailingly, would hug me tightly and start crying. But in the evening when I was asked by Faisal uncle if I wanted to go to the wedding, I was afraid if I had to stay. I did not want to show him that I was too willing but I definitely, could not miss the bestest (I know there is no such word) party of my life. I don’t know from where to start; there was everything in it from Indian dishes like chowmin, chhole,pizza, dosa to foreign ones that had mainly animals like crabs, octopuses etc; all fried alive. Then of course were unlimited cold drinks (they were of more than thirty colors), a hundred different types of pickles, pans…I even forgot their names now. Six stalls from the gate (where two sentinels stood with long spears) was the ‘Pav-bhaji’ stall that was being served by Faisal’s father and obviously Faisal had more plates of Pav-bhaji than in his entire life, in an ‘under the table’ way of course . I obviously had no problems since my family was invited with honour. We, i.e. I and Faisal, roamed around inside the huge banquet hall and checked out almost everything (except the live animals). But when I ate those panipuris, I missed mom a lot coz it was her favourite and I had challenged her to eat twenty that night. At that time, I saw Kullu uncle with a man in black suit and black pant and I waved at him; he smiled. Moments later I saw him coming towards me and I knew he was going to commiserate with me so I was ready. I was not going to cry though (coz I never did) even if he asked me to stay with him. But to my surprise he came, ate the panipuris and chatted happily with that man without even looking at me. I was very depressed when he went without even saying a word coz Faisal was standing right beside me. And then the thing happened which I had feared. Faisal started jeering and laughing at me like an uncontrollable beast. He was not even listening to my explanations (he must not have seen me). I got very upset and wanted to go home ( I even started) but then realized that I had no home and since I did not want to fight him, I went near the swimming pool and sat there, looking into the water. The water was very calm and soothing.
Faisal then brought few of his friends there and they all started making fun of me; those lowly kids who were rag-pickers and waiters in the party! And that dog Mahesh called me an orphan (It felt like a sting) and after we had a messy fight (in which my shirt was torn) I sat there, very depressed and felt lonely. Adamantly I looked into the depths of water, staring at nothing. And then, I don’t know after how long, I saw something unbelievable. I saw her, my mom, in the water; she was screaming loudly as the fire shrouded her body. She tried to extinguish it but even the water did not seem to wet her, it just slid down her body like a lazy dead liquid. ‘I will kill him’ she kept on wailing. While on the other side of the pool, Faisal and his friends teased and howled at me with ear-splitting noise; it all made my head ache like it would burst. I tried, many times, to jump into the pool but every time I did I landed on the hard floor and then the bantering would increase. I was completely helpless and irritated…
When I opened my eyes, Faisal’s friends were gone and the water was as calm as ever. All the people now were huddled around the stage where the married couple was standing with garlands in their hands; Kullu uncle stood smiling beside his daughter. I realized I was shaking badly, sweat all over my body and I did not think, even for a second that it was a dream. Everything was real; mom, her screams, the fire, Faisal, those boys, the noise and now this newborn feeling, a simple and eager wish to kill. I could not have been clearer in my thoughts and will then, to slaughter Kullu uncle; I could not question myself why, but something in my body; I think my heart or perhaps soul, knew. And then, as you know I grabbed the beautiful sleek knife with black handle (whose blade shined like a diamond), put it in my pocket and went, unobstructed into the cheers of people, onto the stage and dug it, as hard as I could, into the left side of his chest, and completed my mom’s unfulfilled wish. It was an amazing feeling, like sinking the shine into cheese!

Wednesday, June 9, 2010

I am touched, honestly, by your audacity to come here again after such denigration. It’s fantastic but you know what? You don’t get to tell me anything now. And tell your shrewd heart that I am done with you. I mean; how can you even think, even think to think from that tiny filthy mind of yours that I will try to pay any heed to your faked excuses?

I am a man, hundred percent at that, and he has honors and self-respect to safeguard or else what use of is he? Wouldn’t it be better rather, to kill him? He is created to stand as a synonym for dignity. Even Gods revere the strong intentions of a true man. And you here, a human and that too made up of lies and betrayals, sit down on my couch and play a ruse on me and think I will believe all the crap coz of your big brown eyes and silky hair. Great men aren’t affected by the glitter and embellishments of a woman’s face. Oh no! Don’t mistake me as one but atleast I know that I am the person you claimed to live and die with till eternity. Eternity! Hello sun, is this eternity? Mr. Cloud, we got eternity? Ha!

“Just a week more, I beseech you to trust me!”

There you go again. I must say, from the rock bottom of the depths of my heart, that you, sitting in front of me with teary eyes and bewitching lips, are an artist of top-notch quality. I had the inkling since the first day I loved you and today, I can swear it. Indeed, God does things in mysterious ways, or else how could I have seen this side of you; no, let go of the lies and perfidy; but as you sit here and weep like an innocent child, anyone in the world would be saddened by that invisible veil of remorse and love that appears so true, marvelous! Anybody but me. You know all the time that I am leaving tomorrow for another country and still you insist for a week. How innocent! I can’t even begin to apprehend the complexities of a girl’s mind. What enigmatic chemical in your mind could possibly tell you to still try and keep up the good image, instead of simply confessing? That could be a field of research for all I know.

I wonder, aren’t my words enough to scald your heart? After all those adoring words that flowed from your lips to worship me, and the heavenly world of love we saw together? You don’t remember; do you, the excruciating longing of every passing second when I waited for you two hours at the coffee shop just to secure your favorite place. Oh! And you cry harder as if you really care, or even cared.

I am fed up now, of myself. And I will accuse you no more coz it doesn’t matter to me. You tell me that he is a relation and that’s all. You two hold hands and kiss each other and now you deny outright, “It wasn’t me” as if I am blind. Let’s, for your sake, consider that I was blind; still can you look into my ‘blind’ eyes and say that I don’t recognize the girl, whom I have loved with all my heart? That I would be mistaken, confuse it with someone else’s hair, is a blemish on the veracity of my love. I agree that I saw the two of you only from behind, but that’s coz I had, neither the heart nor the anxiety to face it. But am I mistaken? Not in this world. Can I ever forget your touch, your smile, those eyes, that flatness on your nose, that stupid earring you wear with pride, your hair? And you say it, with all the confidence, that I could not identify you!

“God, He knows what’s in my heart? And now just because of you, coz I love you and no one else, I have got to break a promise… God forgive me for this betrayal”

Ah! Now you are right…

“He was my sister’s lover and to-be husband.”

Wow! That’s true, isn’t it? And who are you then, surrogate mother to their child? Oh! Don’t be so shocked darling, I don’t mean to hurt your feelings but honestly, I am not so ‘religious’ to see two women, twin sisters, with a man but surely, either he is an iconic philanderer or you a … anyway, I’m sure your elder sister doesn’t know about this affair between her future husband and her loving sister, huh?

“The girl you saw was not me but my sister.”

WO! Now again, you think I… are you kidding? Wait, no…no… just wait a minute…are you serious? Oh! Who are we talking about here? About your elder cousin sister who lives with you, right?

“No. I am talking about my own sister.”

Now I am totally boggled. Your sister is here? Wasn’t she in California doing her MBA? Why am I even listening to your…

“She came here on Thursday owing to her marriage.”

Oh God! Where am I? I…Well… thought it was your cousin sister. That’s reasonably shocking! But do you think I am a fool? No, tell me honestly, did not you always say that you know me better than I do, and still you think I am not aware that your sister is to be married to that boy whose family owns the famous jewellery shop, the biggest one in town. Am I wrong? I personally know him and can assure you I haven’t seen him in weeks. Still, if I am to believe for a fraction of second that she was indeed your sibling, even then, how in God’s hell, could she be sitting carelessly in that park with a boy, just days before her wedding, and did I say sitting? Nah, there was more, the intimacy which I am well aware of, the magnetism and adoration that is unmistakable.

Why you are mum now and gosh! Don’t look at me so fiercely with those big brown eyes, oh it’s scary! You are done, aren’t you? You have failed, with all your shades of colour, to save me and whilst at that, you showed to me, all coz of God’s grace, your true natural hue; for even a lie, which slanders the righteousness of your twin sister, could not make you true. You weave an imaginary affair of your sister… and say to God that you are breaking a promise…what promise I ask…

Oh my goodness! Is your sister planning to elope with this boy? The promise…this is the one…is it not? To your sister, to keep it hushed? Oh, for God’s sake, say something…is this why you were quiet? TELL ME or I swear I will go mad. God!

And it was…her…your sister with him! Your twin sister! But, she had short hair…unlike you. Very short. Yes, I remember it, as clearly as a crytal, they were short and shiny and golden and I used to tease her by calling her ‘fat boy’. And you had long and shiny as if the sunlight emanated from the golden thickets. Isn’t that true? Tell me love… am I mstaken? Am I? She was not like you, oh not like YOU. No! I am not bellowing at you, not at you angel!

Her hair was short and golden and you had long and golden; yet you both looked so identical, twins…

“Oh dear! It’s not your fault. I should have told you before. But I couldn’t…I am so sorry…now get up…I beg you…”

Tuesday, June 8, 2010

Dying is an art, always. Sometimes we use our creativity (like hanging from a fan, jumping in an ocean etc) or stupidity (crossing a rail track, driving too fast etc) and sometimes God paints it (in red). And He is the champ in this arena; imagine the tribulations of planning deaths, with precise timing and form, of so many people, animals, insects, birds… every passing second around the area, 4pi*R^2 (where R= 6378.1 km) and above. It’s unimaginable. And is that all He does?
Well I guess I am going to meet Him in some time, coz I died; just a few hours ago. I am tempted to give more details about it, like if I was crushed in a train accident (many Indians here, in my ‘world’ have filled this as ‘mode of death’ in their death-forms) or was hacked by my girl friend’s brothers (they are the nice ones here, very poetic but violent!) or if I committed suicide (majority, but wretched) but I won’t disclose it. That would totally spoil my mood and once again I will feel so dead; just know I did not die old.
The cardinal thing now is that I am dead. My human life is over. And honestly, alive people, what a life it has been! I heard a sadhu say in my vicinity once, that we get human life once every 64,878 years coz of the high demand of it in the heavens, and when I had heard it in class 7th, I was amazed how much money the phony made by conning my people into his fancy numbers and attire. Now, as I am sitting in this dark corner of this hospital room where my body has been brought, I think he was true; simply coz humans are the best among all living organisms. We rule everything, we make lions leave their homes, and we change the course of rivers, cut mountains and produce babies without parents. We defy God’s creations, we ought to be special. But I should probably omit ‘we’ coz I wasn’t one of them. I was a worthless, unhappy soul all the time, pissed off with troubles I had to face. Like preparing for exams, choosing between Discovery and NatGeo on TV, washing hands after bathroom, pondering over whether I should eat Chinese or Indian and so on. All my thoughts and actions were focused on churning out every last bit of pleasure from life. And since now the verdict is clear that I can’t go back and live life, I feel enervated and morose.
Now you must be thinking that I am in hell, well I don’t know about that. Unlike what I had heard when I was alive that there was a judgement after death and on the basis of the deeds done on earth, one was rewarded Heaven or Hell; when I died it was all quiet and serene. No trace of feelings in my heart, no goodness, no jealousy, no joy, no hatred; only calmness and existing as if forever.
My body is on the bed beside me and I am sitting here in the corner, but I can’t move. I guess Yamaraj has someone else to pick up before me and till then I have to stay. Mom is wailing over my body while dad is trying to calm her down. It’s a typical scene; I have seen many such in bollywood movies. And I can’t help myself but pity her. Since I gained consciousness, I always thanked god for giving me such good parents who fulfilled my every wish, but in my last days mom came up with a new wish.
‘Mera last wish hai beta, IIM karo’, unfailingly I laughed; it was my way of having fun with her, to irritate her until she got annoyed and then I would, in jest, give her the examples of saints and people like Gautama Buddha who had despised all comforts to find happiness. It multiplied the fun and she knew it, although she made the best sad face. But in my heart, I was determined that I had to crack the CAT, or more precisely, like we say in Hindi, I had to tear off (phadna) the CAT exam.
Right now, as the clock is ticking I feel a strange change in myself, which means in my invisible form here in the corner. I feel distancing away from her. I am unable to feel her pain although I know there is; I am beginning to feel like she is an outsider, belonging to a world I have never known. And suddenly I feel no gratitude for all she ever did for me. She used to say that she carried me in her arms all night when I could not sleep at night in childhood, and when I grew up, my studies kept her awake. I can read the clock on the wall and it is 1.15 am now and I think I am going to keep her awake today as well.
All I feel is a huge void in my body, like a 3-D silhouette and no solid. I don’t feel any thirst or hunger now, even a pizza or coke seems so tasteless and loathsome. I try to remember the days when I craved to visit a pizza hut to eat one. Infact whenever I felt bored or irritated in life, I wondered what if I could go to a pizza hut or a KFC now; it was so alluring. All I recall is the excitement and that surge of joy when I would take a bite of that cheesy, spicy soft part and many times my wonderment transformed into reality. I would be elated to see the shining floor, the sleek furniture embellished neatly with the culinary items, the cozy sofa, the gorgeous and well dressed people but most of all the ambient air that smelled of freedom, luxury and yes, the food. However, there was an inkling of extravagance inside the pizza hut and subsequent accusation when I saw the haggard faces on the streets and now, that ignored bit of feeling has escaped my body like air, has bloated enormously and it’s crushing me from all sides with an invisible force and oh! That’s why I can’t move.
I was a loser, and justifiably, always tried to find the shortcut. If I could get God’s grace without much toil, why not and that’s the reason why, in my childhood, I was inspired by a Doha of Kabir, ‘Dukh mein sumiran sab karein, sukh me kare na koi; jo sukh me sumiran kare to dukh kahe ko hoye?’ My Hindi teacher had lucidly explained to me how selfish we were? We always called for His help in troubles but never thanked Him in joys. ‘And the one who acknowledges Him in joys, why would he have sorrows?’ she would literally bellow. She was my favourite miss but I don’t remember her name although I recall I had sworn that day in class 5th, that I will at least follow this rule, if not all, to repel sadness simply because all this ‘rule’ demanded was a ‘Thank You God’. And although I adhered well to it, the sorrows did too, to me.
The day I cleared JEE, I took a page and wrote my dreams. They were
1. Going on a world tour.
2. Standing in the first row in a ‘My Chemical Romance’ concert.
3. Owning a BMW
4. Visiting all the places rich in natural beauty like Kashmir and Switzerland.
5. Doing something great for family.
6. Helping the poor people.
7. Directing a movie.
8. Opening a luxurious restaurant.
But you see, I died! But I don't regret dying as much as I regret clearing IIT-JEE. For one sure thing, I had the illusion that 'I am free and successful', right from the first year. And what do you do after a success? You celebrate! Yes, and those of us who suffered from this hallucination, had a carnival for more than a year. And the chill of nights was our safe havens. We dealt in all kinds of late night activities; chatting, counter-strike, movies, just bellowing or other things. And it had an additional advantage; our days were dreamy from the hangover of sleeplessness. But at the end of first year, God punished us to be happy! He failed many of us and some famous guys got more famous by getting year backs and getting to rejoin the carnival of joys.
I passed with a 6.37; elated and contented. But soon the lethargy from late nights, the choking smell of socks and under wears, the parrot-fashioned learning of notes, the huge imbalance of gender, the suffocating size of hostel room and most of all the lack of strength to break free, grossed me out. And I started counting my days left to get out. My career was already screwed with miraculous grades, but the eight ambitions stayed, and so did my will. So when I started preparing for CAT, I already became an ideal from the children in my locality coz I had chosen the ideal (rather deadly) combination of IIT-JEE and IIM but for me, I knew nothing but FEAR! Fear to realize my goals and fear of shame to my parents (I never gave a shit about ‘others’) if I failed to get a job. But CAT was easy; JEE had made me do enough Math, logical reasoning; English was interesting and Data Interpretation was a cakewalk. And I believed in my heart that I will do it. It’s funny coz if God had to end my game, why did he make me feel that I would clear CAT? And then snatch it from me. But to be honest, it was my fault that I died (although they say it’s always His wish) and when all my life I believed in this beautiful line, why not now?
‘God has a habit of doing things in mysterious ways’
So to summarize my futile and wasteful life; I was born happy and pure but in the process of obeying my senses, got very adulterated and just before when I was going to do something new, i.e. how to outsell others’ businesses or how to insult a rival manager or how to extract money out of people who had nothing, I was killed. Thank God! I am saved of more hellish sins.
Still life could not have been more blessing for a soul like mine. Yeah I was too busy for 99 % time of my life still there were instances, which I feel now, were worth living for. There was a time when I had fallen in love in class 11th. What love! It showered on me and then flowed through my veins leaving me sweetened. Then in my semester breaks when I came home early at 5 and mom served hot chapattis and bhindi ki sabzi. Oh! It was so hard to control those tears from falling down. Love I felt, unbounded and unexplained like this earth. All I heard were my heart beats and sensed was mom’s invisible shade of love. And when I played with little Nishtha at my terrace and told her about the world and she asked me questions like, ‘bhaiya, wo kaun sa colour hai?’ in her sweetest voice, then I felt like telling her everything in this world in the best possible way. I felt overwhelmed. I realized then that kids were indeed angels sent by God. I also remember that boy, in tattered clothes and bare legs, who smiled with gratitude when I had given him a candy, about 15 years ago. How shy I had felt in giving it to him on the street while people watched and this feeling grew on me, so I decided I will rarely help people so ‘openly’. And there was hardly any altruistic thing I did after that coz I stopped listening to my heart but I never got tired of relishing that magical moment. I wished that someday a miracle will happen and since God favours me (?), I would, in a flash of lightning, fulfill all those eight dreams. That time did not come.
Now I wish to be a little poetic here so pray allow;
If only I could have deciphered when it was written everywhere;
…On the sheltering skies on which clouds sailed like feathers
In the droplets of rain that made up His pearls…and on the
Sun that rose everyday to tell ‘see, how beautiful the world is!’
If only...
My aunts and uncles have arrived now from far and near and expectedly, the crying volume has been raised. Anyway, I am not bothered coz I know what happens when people die. NOTHING. But I am not saying not to cry, it is good; mom soothed me when I was small and cried for chocolates, saying ‘Go on, it beautifies your eyes.’ But people cry as if I was here forever and that they will achieve something if they lived to see the last cell in their body perish. The dead man says, ‘If you want to achieve something, do it now for it’s a present, a gift’ Oh! There’s a violent thunderstorm outside, I can hear the roars and booms and I know the mighty Yamaraj has come. And time for me to bid all you living people ‘Goodbye’ till I tell you what happened to me in HEAVEN (keeping my fingers crossed, figuratively!).
Creative Commons License
All publishing rights published on this blog is reserved by Nik Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported License.