A few days ago, on Christmas, I went to church with my brother who was back for winter vacation. After the holy mass we went to the crib which had been decorated quiet beautifully. Mom had given us twenty bucks each as an offering to infant Jesus. I put my twenty rupees note in the offerings box, knelt down and prayed for my family. My brother mean while just stood there admiring the arrangement of the crib. When I was done with my prayers he turned back and led the way to the car.
He asked me about my studies as I got into the car. Seemed like he didn't want to talk about not making the offering at the church. So I stopped myself from asking him about it. But as I got out of the car to open the gates of our house, he told me not to mention about it to Mom.
Next day he invited me to accompany him for some shopping. On the way he asked, "According to Bible which is more important, loving God or loving each other?"
"Both are equally important." I remembered having learned in Catechism school that the two most important commandments are to love God with your whole heart and to love your neighbour as much s yourself.
"Isn't it said 'how can you love the God you can't see if you can't love the brother you can see?"
I was not sure I had read that. So I replied, "it makes sense".
"So you need to love your brother before you can claim to be loving God. God can look after himself. Your neighbour probably needs your help."
Before I could make a reply, my brother slowed down the car and came to a stop a few blocks from the junction.
"Wait here", he said before leaving the car. He went into a near by restaurant and a few minutes later came out with a parcel. Instead of walking towards the car, he crossed the street and walked up to a beggar sitting on the road side. His legs were disfigured, clothes very dirty and torn. My brother gave the parcel to him.
I felt proud of having him as my brother.
"That was very nice of you." I told him as he tightened his seat belt.
"He is still going to be hungry in the night."
"It reminded me of a story Jesus told."
He gave me a questioning glance.
"The story of the good Samaritan."
"Well Christianity is not about loving God." He was smiling. "It's about loving your fellow beings. I believe thats what every religion teaches."
"When you do the slightest help to one among you, remember that you are doing me a service" I quoted the Bible.
"Exactly."
"But church do use the donations to help the poor. They help them build houses... run orphanages..."
"Not all the cash goes to helping the needy. A part of it is used for other purposes like renovating the church, building new parish hall etc. Why do we need a church to pray? God will listen to us even if we pray in an open ground."
"Are you an atheist?" I had this question in my mind for a long time.
"Well, I'm not sure of existence of God. But if He does exist, I'll say he is not fair. Some are born in palaces and a few others in dustbins. You know the story of three servants and talents given to them, right?"
"Two of them using the talents given to them in trading and the third burying his talent. What about it?"
"The first two were given 5 and 2 talents respectively. The third got only one. He probably didn't want to loose his only talent in business. The other two had the advantage of having plenty."
"Are you saying the third servant was not lazy?"
"No, the test was not fair."
What my brother was saying made sense somehow. You cannot compare two people unless they are given the same situation to react to. I may return the wallet I found lying on the ground to the owner, but a hungry person will probably use the cash to get some food. But I didn't want to think God is unfair. God probably has a reason for everything.
My cell phone kept on the dashboard started beeping. My girlfriend was calling. She is probably angry that the soft-toy I got her as a present is a little smaller than what she asked.
Friday, December 12
Saturday, November 29
I'm Rich. I'm Happy
I was at the pub today. After sometime a soft melody started playing in the background of all the noises and shouting. The table next to mine fell silent . Everyone was listening keenly. The poet was comparing his beloved to a peacock dancing in the rain. I couldn't help laughing out. The poet is gay. Only male peacocks dance. Pub is one place where you don't owe an explanation for things you say. That's why I go to pubs even though I don't drink. So many paranoids at one place. I enjoy being in a pub. And I always laugh out loud. Whether it be during some touching scene in a movie or when I'm in a mosque or be it at my neighbour's funeral. I get a lot of "You mad?" and "Shut the fuck up" stares. That's when I start laughing even more harder. I can't stand the effort people put in to look better before others. It's too hilarious. I'm no more invited for any serious occasion. And I'm the person happiest about it.
It's not possible to help wondering why people keep worrying about the meaningless things in life. Stuff like love are so worthless and trivial. You disagree? I don't care. I would spent my day alone at some % star hotel rather than in a "romantic" boat in a "beautiful" sea with some stupid female who is good for nothing other than her doggies. Blonds are abundant in this world and are just a phone call away. I'm not sorry that I'm not imaginative in a hypocritical way. Even you were born in a moment of lust. Parents are also selfish. They wanted someone to look after them in their old age. I did that duty till my parents passed away. They got a decent funeral because they were rich and also because I was not the only child. I feel funerals are a waste of time and cash.
I inherited a shopping mall from my parents. On the first of every month I collect the rents to pay my bills and credit card dues. I live in a lodge near the mall. I don't have anything to do. So I read the entire day. I don't love reading. Nothing makes you fall asleep faster than a book. I also observe people. The day my neighbour Mrs Elizabeth was attacked and robbed, I knew some thief was waiting for her in her apartment. They had turned off the bathroom light she leaves on every day. She was never of any assistance to me. And I got a better burglar alarm also. I didn't take the pain to call the cops. I say 'hi' to the people who say 'hi' to me and I glare back at those who glare at me. It doesn't make me either happy or sad. But ladies and food does make me happy.
I was not always like this. I used to have a warm heart that used to bleed very often for lots of stupid reasons. People who know me better address me as 'Dr. Melvin'. I got a PhD in human psychology. But my girlfriend chose to marry the guy with piercings all over his heads. I gradually learned to be impassive to everything. The lady is supposed to take the money and leave before I get up the next day. And its always preferable to have different meals everyday. I eat at a restaurant in my mall. Food they serve is delicious and free. I believe in happiness and goodwill, not in money. So I repay a favour. I don't take rent from them. Getting richer is not my intention. People say money spoiled me. I don't want my children to face the same complaint. Right now I don't have any children. Few months back a female I had slept with told me she was pregnant. She threatened to go to court. She wanted money. I invited her to share my miseries. I told her I was ready to marry her. She got freaked out and got an abortion.
I know every single trick somebody can have up their sleeves. Be it the political pimp who confuses with religion and politics or the spiritual leader who resorts to street magic to charm the devotees or the businessman who wishes to feast everyday on somebody else's fall. I know the answer to every problem. But I don't see a point in sharing it and arguing for it. I'm happy the way I'm. The way you feel is not going to give me any pain. I understand how silly it was of me to burn my head and come up with solutions to the issues of the mankind. It took time and experience to realize that I didn't have to bother at all. And that was the greatest of all knowledge. The world will be ideal with a lot of people like me who believe in giving and taking. Why should I take all the trouble to change the world? I'm not going to gain anything in return. My life can't be better. Petrol and coal will live longer than me. Polar ice won't melt anytime soon. And we also ... Screw it. You won't understand. Why should I make you realize it is not worth it to try and solve somebody else's trouble. That is your problem. Find a solution if you want. I'm rich. I can buy anything I want. I'm happy in my ignorance. God save the mankind.
-Melvin
It's not possible to help wondering why people keep worrying about the meaningless things in life. Stuff like love are so worthless and trivial. You disagree? I don't care. I would spent my day alone at some % star hotel rather than in a "romantic" boat in a "beautiful" sea with some stupid female who is good for nothing other than her doggies. Blonds are abundant in this world and are just a phone call away. I'm not sorry that I'm not imaginative in a hypocritical way. Even you were born in a moment of lust. Parents are also selfish. They wanted someone to look after them in their old age. I did that duty till my parents passed away. They got a decent funeral because they were rich and also because I was not the only child. I feel funerals are a waste of time and cash.
I inherited a shopping mall from my parents. On the first of every month I collect the rents to pay my bills and credit card dues. I live in a lodge near the mall. I don't have anything to do. So I read the entire day. I don't love reading. Nothing makes you fall asleep faster than a book. I also observe people. The day my neighbour Mrs Elizabeth was attacked and robbed, I knew some thief was waiting for her in her apartment. They had turned off the bathroom light she leaves on every day. She was never of any assistance to me. And I got a better burglar alarm also. I didn't take the pain to call the cops. I say 'hi' to the people who say 'hi' to me and I glare back at those who glare at me. It doesn't make me either happy or sad. But ladies and food does make me happy.
I was not always like this. I used to have a warm heart that used to bleed very often for lots of stupid reasons. People who know me better address me as 'Dr. Melvin'. I got a PhD in human psychology. But my girlfriend chose to marry the guy with piercings all over his heads. I gradually learned to be impassive to everything. The lady is supposed to take the money and leave before I get up the next day. And its always preferable to have different meals everyday. I eat at a restaurant in my mall. Food they serve is delicious and free. I believe in happiness and goodwill, not in money. So I repay a favour. I don't take rent from them. Getting richer is not my intention. People say money spoiled me. I don't want my children to face the same complaint. Right now I don't have any children. Few months back a female I had slept with told me she was pregnant. She threatened to go to court. She wanted money. I invited her to share my miseries. I told her I was ready to marry her. She got freaked out and got an abortion.
I know every single trick somebody can have up their sleeves. Be it the political pimp who confuses with religion and politics or the spiritual leader who resorts to street magic to charm the devotees or the businessman who wishes to feast everyday on somebody else's fall. I know the answer to every problem. But I don't see a point in sharing it and arguing for it. I'm happy the way I'm. The way you feel is not going to give me any pain. I understand how silly it was of me to burn my head and come up with solutions to the issues of the mankind. It took time and experience to realize that I didn't have to bother at all. And that was the greatest of all knowledge. The world will be ideal with a lot of people like me who believe in giving and taking. Why should I take all the trouble to change the world? I'm not going to gain anything in return. My life can't be better. Petrol and coal will live longer than me. Polar ice won't melt anytime soon. And we also ... Screw it. You won't understand. Why should I make you realize it is not worth it to try and solve somebody else's trouble. That is your problem. Find a solution if you want. I'm rich. I can buy anything I want. I'm happy in my ignorance. God save the mankind.
-Melvin
Saturday, November 1
It ws really nice of u 2 hv commented
The world is a battlefield of hypocrites. Everyone is busy being someone else. Be it the friend who rambles on endlessly and unstoppably about his uncontrollable urge to talk less or the social reformer and religious torch bearer who will never share a dining table with his servant after a tiring day of preaching ethics. Never been stopped by a drunken traffic cop who pulled you over for riding in the wrong direction? There was this strict district judge who once screamed, "You sonofabitch, this is a court, not your home." Exaggeration is the way of life for both the geek and the sports lover. Would anyone pay cash for being allowed an hour of coding? And would you swim across the English channel rather than taking a boat because you love spots?
Now tell me this, 'how many of you would admit that we should have stuck to the trees and never got down from it'. Come on, accept it. Everyone's a hypocrite. The world is crazy with the lean man boasting about his athletic built and the fatso who describes his pot belly as a sign of prosperity. Nobody will accept a fart. Yeah, there are exceptions who say, 'that's me', and then proceeds to explain why it is nothing to be ashamed of. He will then continue on to the cause, symptoms and consequences until some weak hearted chap pukes into his plate of noodles.
No one is an omission to the rule. Mahathmaji? You must be still thinking it was truth and non-violence that got us our freedom. No, they cannot buy you even your daily bread. We got our independence by blackmailing and extortion. There is not even a count of the number of people killed in the freedom struggle. One more or one less wouldn't have made any difference to the British. As a child I had seen a snap of Gandhiji wearing a bullet proof vest, but last week they proved that the snap was spurious. So he was always an easy target. But the British knew hell would break lose if they touched Gandhi. They didn't want an over populated India running in agitatedly from every possible angle. You know, the automatics were not popular then. Thus terrorism won us our swaraj. Of course sathyagrahas were a means of moral terrorism. The British too were hypocritical and because they wanted to look good in the world's eyes they fled. (The counselors then couldn't come up with a good way to fight this new style of terrorism) But the same Gandhiji, when Bhagat Singh threw a grenade into the parliament house, said that he didn't use the right weapon. I honestly doubt if it really was 'ahimsa' that he meant because Bhagat Singh didn't hurt anyone except the British ego.
As long as there is somebody watching us, we will be busy stimulating virtues and some, the admirable vices. We keep the masks on. Some might be very sweet. Others strong, honest, confident etc. The moment it gets dark, the actual personality slips out like Mr.Hyde. Some Malayalam poet wrote a long ago, "Light is sorrow, my son. Darkness is bliss". Isn't the world a lie? White Old Repeating Lie, Duh. Living actually is about bitching about who ever is not listening and feeling good about oneself. That's what I was doing here. Whatever, don't arraign me of being a hypocrite. I'm the biggest. ;)
Now tell me this, 'how many of you would admit that we should have stuck to the trees and never got down from it'. Come on, accept it. Everyone's a hypocrite. The world is crazy with the lean man boasting about his athletic built and the fatso who describes his pot belly as a sign of prosperity. Nobody will accept a fart. Yeah, there are exceptions who say, 'that's me', and then proceeds to explain why it is nothing to be ashamed of. He will then continue on to the cause, symptoms and consequences until some weak hearted chap pukes into his plate of noodles.
No one is an omission to the rule. Mahathmaji? You must be still thinking it was truth and non-violence that got us our freedom. No, they cannot buy you even your daily bread. We got our independence by blackmailing and extortion. There is not even a count of the number of people killed in the freedom struggle. One more or one less wouldn't have made any difference to the British. As a child I had seen a snap of Gandhiji wearing a bullet proof vest, but last week they proved that the snap was spurious. So he was always an easy target. But the British knew hell would break lose if they touched Gandhi. They didn't want an over populated India running in agitatedly from every possible angle. You know, the automatics were not popular then. Thus terrorism won us our swaraj. Of course sathyagrahas were a means of moral terrorism. The British too were hypocritical and because they wanted to look good in the world's eyes they fled. (The counselors then couldn't come up with a good way to fight this new style of terrorism) But the same Gandhiji, when Bhagat Singh threw a grenade into the parliament house, said that he didn't use the right weapon. I honestly doubt if it really was 'ahimsa' that he meant because Bhagat Singh didn't hurt anyone except the British ego.
As long as there is somebody watching us, we will be busy stimulating virtues and some, the admirable vices. We keep the masks on. Some might be very sweet. Others strong, honest, confident etc. The moment it gets dark, the actual personality slips out like Mr.Hyde. Some Malayalam poet wrote a long ago, "Light is sorrow, my son. Darkness is bliss". Isn't the world a lie? White Old Repeating Lie, Duh. Living actually is about bitching about who ever is not listening and feeling good about oneself. That's what I was doing here. Whatever, don't arraign me of being a hypocrite. I'm the biggest. ;)
Saturday, October 4
A Prayer
I casually glanced at the newspaper which my Dad was reading. Superfluously large and bold letters read, "177 Devotees Killed". There was a picture of a temple also beneath which there were a lot of other news clustered together in the lower half of the page. These newspapers... such a big cold blooded massacre and they wouldn't even devote a page for it. Violence on innocent Hindus again. Muslims have been killing my species ruthlessly for long. My God had lost services and donations from 200 devotees yesterday and so he couldn't send me enough blessings today. I ended up losing to both Abu and Saleem in straight sets today. Anger rushed through my veins as I slowly realized who was behind this. Abu and Saleem. They wanted to win todays tennis match. But I never expected them to resort to such cruel ways. How could anyone be so heartless? I turned on the shower. The cold water failed to quench the anger in me.
I decided my action plan. Asif had invited me for lunch. His entire family and friends will be there celebrating Id. I'll get a bomb from the supermarket and blast the place apart. Thus my Gods will again become more powerful and I will win tomorrows match. Also I'll pray to all the Gods I know so that I can show the the Muslim kids the strength of my 'Gods United'. I couldn't help laughing as I imagined their humiliated faces after tomorrow's match.
I saw my Dad tossing aside the newspaper. I picked it up. It was then that I noticed a sub heading which ran "... in stampede ...". The main heading had been misleading. I almost ruined a good lunch because of it. Being killed in the process of seeking God... those devoteed were really blessed. One couldn't ask for a better death. Fighting to see God till the last breathe. Brave. Very brave. 177 new souls joined God yesterday for dinner, which I guess was cooked in the fire of hell. Being murdered by a Muslim extremist and being relieved by a brother from the worldly bonds of body to reach the Almighty are entirely different. Hindus walking over the bodies of other Hindus, suffocating them under their feet and stamping the life out of them is actually a service. It's win-win. Either you kill and see God or you die and be with God. But people from other species better keep their bloody hands away from my fellow devotees. My God was busy providing accommodation to the newly arrived souls. So he didn't get time to send me blessings for the match. Its not that he is weaker than any other God.
Actually, introspection tells me that there could be another explanation too. All those who died might have been big sinners - thieves, liars etc. God didn't want to see their faces. So he appeared only to those devotees who had killed these unwanted elements of the society by crushing their helpless skulls and souls in the desire to see God. They had did their duty by killing the sinners and so God appeared before them. Perhaps God was busy blessings these great warriors who had mercilessly walked over the lives of the sinners without hesitating to see if the muffled cry from underneath the feet was of their own fathers' or sons'. They did their duty sincerely and God blessed them. I'll also kill whomever you want my God. I will also give you all my pocket money. Just let me win tomorrow's tennis match.
I decided my action plan. Asif had invited me for lunch. His entire family and friends will be there celebrating Id. I'll get a bomb from the supermarket and blast the place apart. Thus my Gods will again become more powerful and I will win tomorrows match. Also I'll pray to all the Gods I know so that I can show the the Muslim kids the strength of my 'Gods United'. I couldn't help laughing as I imagined their humiliated faces after tomorrow's match.
I saw my Dad tossing aside the newspaper. I picked it up. It was then that I noticed a sub heading which ran "... in stampede ...". The main heading had been misleading. I almost ruined a good lunch because of it. Being killed in the process of seeking God... those devoteed were really blessed. One couldn't ask for a better death. Fighting to see God till the last breathe. Brave. Very brave. 177 new souls joined God yesterday for dinner, which I guess was cooked in the fire of hell. Being murdered by a Muslim extremist and being relieved by a brother from the worldly bonds of body to reach the Almighty are entirely different. Hindus walking over the bodies of other Hindus, suffocating them under their feet and stamping the life out of them is actually a service. It's win-win. Either you kill and see God or you die and be with God. But people from other species better keep their bloody hands away from my fellow devotees. My God was busy providing accommodation to the newly arrived souls. So he didn't get time to send me blessings for the match. Its not that he is weaker than any other God.
Actually, introspection tells me that there could be another explanation too. All those who died might have been big sinners - thieves, liars etc. God didn't want to see their faces. So he appeared only to those devotees who had killed these unwanted elements of the society by crushing their helpless skulls and souls in the desire to see God. They had did their duty by killing the sinners and so God appeared before them. Perhaps God was busy blessings these great warriors who had mercilessly walked over the lives of the sinners without hesitating to see if the muffled cry from underneath the feet was of their own fathers' or sons'. They did their duty sincerely and God blessed them. I'll also kill whomever you want my God. I will also give you all my pocket money. Just let me win tomorrow's tennis match.
Monday, September 8
Orderless
There was a time when you believed all the stories you came across. Grandma used to fool you with her bed time tales. You have now grown up. But have you ever asked your elders why they had lied to you and coerced your mind into gladly relying on imagination to account for all the answerless questions? You can now distinguish between a story and the truth. But isn't a more acceptable lie the truth for you? Mankind needs to evolve further. Might be into a species which has chlorophyll on its skin instead of a mouth. Evolution does not stop with you. We are not the direct descendants of God. We are just another phase in the change, as were all the animals and birds. Then why do you keep thanking the God for having created the sky, the earth and everything in it for you? You are just another race with special skills in worrying. You are afraid of the future. You try to control it, but in vain. So you pray. So you save. You plan. You study. You forgive and so on.
You are even troubled with others noticing your inherent worry. So there were stories about greater forces commanded by the omnipresent God and your fate being controlled by stars, constellations and their positions. Brilliant works of human imagination. Each story had its share of followers. Religions thus multiplied. Everything you can't explain was described as the work of the Almighty. Religion says the only thing God demands from you is belief. Even doubts can get enlisted under blasphemy. So no questions are permitted to be asked. God is safe in his kingly throne.
And thus there was order. You were born into a cage. You will live inside it till your last breath and pontificate non stop about freedom. But what do you accomplish? You don't even know what the actual world which does not enforce restraints on you is like. I too might get branded as mad because I chose to explain the truth to you. I pity you. Things were never under your control. You walk along the lines drawn by the society as if you are being dragged by a chain. But it is your life damn it. You do what ever you want with it. Show some resistance. Why should you listen to the morons who kept to the road, missed all the good places on the way and died without reaching anywhere?
Life is not a journey. You celebrate it. You live it in your own style. Remove the warnings and chop down the signposts. There is neither a heaven above the clouds nor a hell below the ground. Don't chain yourself. Break the already existing fetters of morality and hypocrisies. Release the devil in you. Go mad. There is no one you have to answer to. You want to sing? Scream on. It’s your voice. Who is your neighbour to command you to keep it down? Dance. Play. You want to drive your bike at 200km/hr, who told you not to? Don’t be bound by the rules. Show the finger to your boring professor. Make aeroplanes with your aeronautical engineering question paper. Go sleep around if that’s what you want. Be a freak. I'm not saying draw your own limits. Abstinence is not life. Let there be no limits for you. It’s your life. And you have only one life. There are no horizons. Fly away. I’m up in the sky. Alone. Come, join me. Bring the world with you.
You are even troubled with others noticing your inherent worry. So there were stories about greater forces commanded by the omnipresent God and your fate being controlled by stars, constellations and their positions. Brilliant works of human imagination. Each story had its share of followers. Religions thus multiplied. Everything you can't explain was described as the work of the Almighty. Religion says the only thing God demands from you is belief. Even doubts can get enlisted under blasphemy. So no questions are permitted to be asked. God is safe in his kingly throne.
And thus there was order. You were born into a cage. You will live inside it till your last breath and pontificate non stop about freedom. But what do you accomplish? You don't even know what the actual world which does not enforce restraints on you is like. I too might get branded as mad because I chose to explain the truth to you. I pity you. Things were never under your control. You walk along the lines drawn by the society as if you are being dragged by a chain. But it is your life damn it. You do what ever you want with it. Show some resistance. Why should you listen to the morons who kept to the road, missed all the good places on the way and died without reaching anywhere?
Life is not a journey. You celebrate it. You live it in your own style. Remove the warnings and chop down the signposts. There is neither a heaven above the clouds nor a hell below the ground. Don't chain yourself. Break the already existing fetters of morality and hypocrisies. Release the devil in you. Go mad. There is no one you have to answer to. You want to sing? Scream on. It’s your voice. Who is your neighbour to command you to keep it down? Dance. Play. You want to drive your bike at 200km/hr, who told you not to? Don’t be bound by the rules. Show the finger to your boring professor. Make aeroplanes with your aeronautical engineering question paper. Go sleep around if that’s what you want. Be a freak. I'm not saying draw your own limits. Abstinence is not life. Let there be no limits for you. It’s your life. And you have only one life. There are no horizons. Fly away. I’m up in the sky. Alone. Come, join me. Bring the world with you.
Thursday, July 31
Fairies
"How many times have I told you not to leave the windows open."
"But Mom, there was a nice breeze coming in...", I tried to explain. But she cut me off.
"My Son, winds never carry fairies with them." She closed the windows.
I remained silent. There are things grown ups won't accept. Might be they don't understand after all. Mom looked at me for some time before leaving the room. After closing the door behind her I gently unlatched the windows making as less noise as possible. One is not supposed to keep the Fairies waiting outside. What if the Fairies leave finding the windows closed and never returns again? It was quiet dark outside. The gulmohar tree across the fence on which the Fairies lived had merged almost indistinguishably into the shadows.
My Grandma used to tell me stories about the wonderful things the Fairies could do. "The Fairy is busy looking after the helpless. But one day she will surely come into your room sailing in the wind. Wait for her by the window." Grandma had said. A few weeks later she stopped telling me stories. She was in her room all the time, either chanting or sleeping. She told me she was preparing for a journey to the world of Fairies. My excitement however dropped when she added that she couldn't take me along with her. I made her promise to visit me one day. A few days later I found Mom and Dad in tears.
'Grandma has left us.' they told me.
"She went to the land of fairies?", I asked.
Mom didn't reply. She hugged me and wept for a long time. I suddenly felt very lonely. Mom and Dad were so busy running the house, Grandma was the only friend I had. But now I'm alone. I dragged myself to my room and sat looking out at the gulmohar tree for a long time.
That was six years ago. I was nine then. I always wanted to go near the gulmohar tree and pay a visit to Grandma. She must be living in a hut hanging down the mighty branches of the tree. But the fence was too high for me to climb. When I importuned Dad for help, he said it is silly of me to be talking about fairies. Even my classmates think fairies don't exist. They call me a fool and I am avoided by them. They make fun of me, but I don't care. One day my Grandma will come and I will prove to everybody that they were wrong. Especially my Dad. He thinks I am not smart enough to survive well in this competitive world. He wants me to be hardworking like him so that I will be capable to look after the family one day. Once the fairies come I will ask them to look after my parents. Then Dad can rest and Mom won't have to cook anymore. I always wonder why Grandma didn't tell Dad about the wonderful things the fairies could do? Might be he didn't believe her. If he can believe in stupid things like gravity, evolution etc, why can't he believe in fairies? After all it is the fairies who created us and not the stupid monkeys.
Last month Mom told me fairies come only in the dreams. She thinks she can lie to me and get away. Once I had dreamt that my class teacher Mrs. Vimala had grown horns and a tail. But the next day everything was normal. Dreams never come true. A few days ago I quit sleeping. It is tiring not to sleep but supposedly the Fairies come in the night I don't want to miss the chance to meet them. I will ask the Fairies to take me to their world where I can live happily with my Grandma, listening to her stories. And one day might be my Mom will tell my story to her grandchildren. It will be so nice when I come back to meet them...
"But Mom, there was a nice breeze coming in...", I tried to explain. But she cut me off.
"My Son, winds never carry fairies with them." She closed the windows.
I remained silent. There are things grown ups won't accept. Might be they don't understand after all. Mom looked at me for some time before leaving the room. After closing the door behind her I gently unlatched the windows making as less noise as possible. One is not supposed to keep the Fairies waiting outside. What if the Fairies leave finding the windows closed and never returns again? It was quiet dark outside. The gulmohar tree across the fence on which the Fairies lived had merged almost indistinguishably into the shadows.
My Grandma used to tell me stories about the wonderful things the Fairies could do. "The Fairy is busy looking after the helpless. But one day she will surely come into your room sailing in the wind. Wait for her by the window." Grandma had said. A few weeks later she stopped telling me stories. She was in her room all the time, either chanting or sleeping. She told me she was preparing for a journey to the world of Fairies. My excitement however dropped when she added that she couldn't take me along with her. I made her promise to visit me one day. A few days later I found Mom and Dad in tears.
'Grandma has left us.' they told me.
"She went to the land of fairies?", I asked.
Mom didn't reply. She hugged me and wept for a long time. I suddenly felt very lonely. Mom and Dad were so busy running the house, Grandma was the only friend I had. But now I'm alone. I dragged myself to my room and sat looking out at the gulmohar tree for a long time.
That was six years ago. I was nine then. I always wanted to go near the gulmohar tree and pay a visit to Grandma. She must be living in a hut hanging down the mighty branches of the tree. But the fence was too high for me to climb. When I importuned Dad for help, he said it is silly of me to be talking about fairies. Even my classmates think fairies don't exist. They call me a fool and I am avoided by them. They make fun of me, but I don't care. One day my Grandma will come and I will prove to everybody that they were wrong. Especially my Dad. He thinks I am not smart enough to survive well in this competitive world. He wants me to be hardworking like him so that I will be capable to look after the family one day. Once the fairies come I will ask them to look after my parents. Then Dad can rest and Mom won't have to cook anymore. I always wonder why Grandma didn't tell Dad about the wonderful things the fairies could do? Might be he didn't believe her. If he can believe in stupid things like gravity, evolution etc, why can't he believe in fairies? After all it is the fairies who created us and not the stupid monkeys.
Last month Mom told me fairies come only in the dreams. She thinks she can lie to me and get away. Once I had dreamt that my class teacher Mrs. Vimala had grown horns and a tail. But the next day everything was normal. Dreams never come true. A few days ago I quit sleeping. It is tiring not to sleep but supposedly the Fairies come in the night I don't want to miss the chance to meet them. I will ask the Fairies to take me to their world where I can live happily with my Grandma, listening to her stories. And one day might be my Mom will tell my story to her grandchildren. It will be so nice when I come back to meet them...
Tuesday, July 8
My Jeans
I think I have lost my jeans. I searched everywhere, but I am not able to find her. ( "Her" because I don't feel comfortable saying "My jeans... I love him!" and not because it is a ladies jeans )
When I had bought that jeans, I had never expected to grow so much attached to her. She was not faded or fancy printed. She was a simple ordinary blue jeans. Over the time she turned from just one of my jeans into my favourite leg wear. She was perfect for me. I felt very comfortable with her and hence I was more confident and successful in my endeavors. The fact that I can't find her is eating into me. There has been times when I just couldn't force her off my legs. We were the inseparables. She was my live-in-jeans, day and night. When ever I had to select a shirt, I used to pick the one that would go best with her. I loved washing and pressing her myself with that extra bit of care and affection.
But yesterday, I accidentally spilled hot coffee on her. You have no idea how sorry I was about it. I wonder if she is still angry and is hiding from me. I can never stain her intentionally, you know. There isn't another piece of clothing more dearer to me. In fact there isn't anything else more dearer to me.
She was one of those jeans that comes with a button on the back pocket. So I could confide my wallet with her without being alarmed about pick pockets. She was part of all my happiness and sorrows. A relationship in which I was always mad about her, but could never get mad at her. I took her with me where ever I went. Even when I was required to wear a uniform pants, I used to have her in my bag. It breakes my heart to be away from her.
I cannot live without her. I cannot sleep, I cannot eat, I can't even think about anything else. Away from her I don't think I will survive for long. How could she think that I had purposefully hurt her? I miss you, my jeans. Where ever you are, be happy. This is the last wish of a dying heart.
When I had bought that jeans, I had never expected to grow so much attached to her. She was not faded or fancy printed. She was a simple ordinary blue jeans. Over the time she turned from just one of my jeans into my favourite leg wear. She was perfect for me. I felt very comfortable with her and hence I was more confident and successful in my endeavors. The fact that I can't find her is eating into me. There has been times when I just couldn't force her off my legs. We were the inseparables. She was my live-in-jeans, day and night. When ever I had to select a shirt, I used to pick the one that would go best with her. I loved washing and pressing her myself with that extra bit of care and affection.
But yesterday, I accidentally spilled hot coffee on her. You have no idea how sorry I was about it. I wonder if she is still angry and is hiding from me. I can never stain her intentionally, you know. There isn't another piece of clothing more dearer to me. In fact there isn't anything else more dearer to me.
She was one of those jeans that comes with a button on the back pocket. So I could confide my wallet with her without being alarmed about pick pockets. She was part of all my happiness and sorrows. A relationship in which I was always mad about her, but could never get mad at her. I took her with me where ever I went. Even when I was required to wear a uniform pants, I used to have her in my bag. It breakes my heart to be away from her.
I cannot live without her. I cannot sleep, I cannot eat, I can't even think about anything else. Away from her I don't think I will survive for long. How could she think that I had purposefully hurt her? I miss you, my jeans. Where ever you are, be happy. This is the last wish of a dying heart.
Wednesday, June 25
This is something i wrote years back when an important episode in my life suddenly went blank I came upon it accidentally yesterday.
How would you feel if you read an exciting thousand page novel only to find that some freak had torn of the last chapter? Angry? Frustrated? Flipped out? How about loving someone for years and then be told, 'go to hell'? The life I led till now has suddenly become a pointless struggle. Dreams I caressed to sleep every night will return to haunt me again and again. The photos I collected and the little sovereigns of love that i had put safely in my drawer stares back at me with a pitiful smile. They seem to be waiting happily to be burned. The logic behind all my choices in life has vanished. Everything I believed to be right has summed up to a big zero of pain.
It was not because I didn't have backbone that the gifts I sent her were anonymous. I thought I could keep postponing the doomsday for ever. But fate cannot be stopped no matter how much you plead with it. Now I know why men drink. It gives them the courage to cry, at least an excuse to cry. But the hot whiskey wakes up all those question you had put to sleep. You find yourself face on with the realities you have run away from always. The doubts, the questions, their answers everything mingles up forming a maze that reaches back at the starting point which ever way your thoughts travel. Someone please tell me how to end this havoc in my brain. If I had an axe, I would have chopped my head into smithereens so that at least I can have a little clarity of thoughts by attacking only one fragment of question at a time. The biggest blow has been to my esteem and self-worth. I will never be confident again. I have no idea where I went wrong. I did my best and still, my failure was huge.
Of course I can move on. Once a friend of mine had said, "two boobs to hold and a hole to drill is all I need". But I had believed love is platonic, sacred. Might be he was right and I was wrong...
How would you feel if you read an exciting thousand page novel only to find that some freak had torn of the last chapter? Angry? Frustrated? Flipped out? How about loving someone for years and then be told, 'go to hell'? The life I led till now has suddenly become a pointless struggle. Dreams I caressed to sleep every night will return to haunt me again and again. The photos I collected and the little sovereigns of love that i had put safely in my drawer stares back at me with a pitiful smile. They seem to be waiting happily to be burned. The logic behind all my choices in life has vanished. Everything I believed to be right has summed up to a big zero of pain.
It was not because I didn't have backbone that the gifts I sent her were anonymous. I thought I could keep postponing the doomsday for ever. But fate cannot be stopped no matter how much you plead with it. Now I know why men drink. It gives them the courage to cry, at least an excuse to cry. But the hot whiskey wakes up all those question you had put to sleep. You find yourself face on with the realities you have run away from always. The doubts, the questions, their answers everything mingles up forming a maze that reaches back at the starting point which ever way your thoughts travel. Someone please tell me how to end this havoc in my brain. If I had an axe, I would have chopped my head into smithereens so that at least I can have a little clarity of thoughts by attacking only one fragment of question at a time. The biggest blow has been to my esteem and self-worth. I will never be confident again. I have no idea where I went wrong. I did my best and still, my failure was huge.
Of course I can move on. Once a friend of mine had said, "two boobs to hold and a hole to drill is all I need". But I had believed love is platonic, sacred. Might be he was right and I was wrong...
Thursday, March 13
Tia looked at the sky. The last streaks of red were being scoffed up by the dark tongue of the night. There were a few birds making their way back to their nests. Tia too was on her way home. The bus had become much less crowded. Her stop was approaching. She glanced at her watch to realize that she was an hour late. She had to get down and catch another bus.
She had company till now and she was glad about it. Melvin was sitting in front of her staring out into the distance. They had missed their usual bus. Melvin's presence had given her the feeling of security. Through out the journey they hadn't talked. Tia had been forced to recline into a world of her own thoughts. She shook him and said 'bye, Melvin'.
"See you tomorrow." he said turning back. There was no smile. He seemed lost in thought.
The bus slowed down. She got up, picked up her bag and climbed down, sighing at the darkness. There weren't many people at the bus stop. The bus started rolling again. There was a bearded man looking at her from the rear window of the bus which was steadily gaining speed. She looked away. Her next bus should be here in a four-five minutes. The prospect of waiting in the dark was not at all appealing especially with no familiar faces around to make her feel safe.
Her attention was brought back to the bus by the sound of brakes being applied. The bus slowed down enough for someone to hop off and then shot away angrily. Melvin. He came towards her and stood besides her silently.
"You didn't have to get down", Tia said. "My bus would be here in a few minutes."
"No, it's okay. It has become quiet dark. I know a shortcut home from here."
Tia was very glad Melvin had cared to see her off. Minutes ticked away in silence, occasionally interrupted by a few questions and answers exchanged.
"It's about time my bus came." she said. "I've never had to wait this long."
Melvin nodded.
"Thanks for being here. It would have been horrible to wait alone so long in this darkness. It was really nice of you to have taken the trouble..."
Melvin smiled. "You are always welcome. And it is not much of a trouble actually."
They waited another five minutes before the bus came. Tia thanked Melvin again and got on the bus. Melvin waved his bye. He then turned and started walking. He felt happy that he had chosen to get down with Tia. It started to drizzle slightly, but he didn't take out his umbrella. He enjoyed the chill of raindrops hitting his face and running down his cheek.
Half an hour later he was sipping down a cup of hot tea when the phone rang. His Mom picked up the phone. "It is for you Melvin" she said.
"Hello," Melvin said to the receiver.
"Hello. It's me, Tia..." She had reached home.
She had company till now and she was glad about it. Melvin was sitting in front of her staring out into the distance. They had missed their usual bus. Melvin's presence had given her the feeling of security. Through out the journey they hadn't talked. Tia had been forced to recline into a world of her own thoughts. She shook him and said 'bye, Melvin'.
"See you tomorrow." he said turning back. There was no smile. He seemed lost in thought.
The bus slowed down. She got up, picked up her bag and climbed down, sighing at the darkness. There weren't many people at the bus stop. The bus started rolling again. There was a bearded man looking at her from the rear window of the bus which was steadily gaining speed. She looked away. Her next bus should be here in a four-five minutes. The prospect of waiting in the dark was not at all appealing especially with no familiar faces around to make her feel safe.
Her attention was brought back to the bus by the sound of brakes being applied. The bus slowed down enough for someone to hop off and then shot away angrily. Melvin. He came towards her and stood besides her silently.
"You didn't have to get down", Tia said. "My bus would be here in a few minutes."
"No, it's okay. It has become quiet dark. I know a shortcut home from here."
Tia was very glad Melvin had cared to see her off. Minutes ticked away in silence, occasionally interrupted by a few questions and answers exchanged.
"It's about time my bus came." she said. "I've never had to wait this long."
Melvin nodded.
"Thanks for being here. It would have been horrible to wait alone so long in this darkness. It was really nice of you to have taken the trouble..."
Melvin smiled. "You are always welcome. And it is not much of a trouble actually."
They waited another five minutes before the bus came. Tia thanked Melvin again and got on the bus. Melvin waved his bye. He then turned and started walking. He felt happy that he had chosen to get down with Tia. It started to drizzle slightly, but he didn't take out his umbrella. He enjoyed the chill of raindrops hitting his face and running down his cheek.
Half an hour later he was sipping down a cup of hot tea when the phone rang. His Mom picked up the phone. "It is for you Melvin" she said.
"Hello," Melvin said to the receiver.
"Hello. It's me, Tia..." She had reached home.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)