Being five

Dear Mom and Dad,
As you have probably forgotten, it is my birthday today. I am five years old now. Please donot think that I'm angry with you or anything. After the really horrible (Sharon uses that word, she says it means 'really bad') fight you both had last night, I didn't think you would remember.
Teacher Susie says five is a big age, so I'm a big girl now. So I figured that I should be able to understand what you always said, 'You're too small to understand this'.
I asked my new best friend Jenny (she's really sweet, she gave me her pink ballet shoes for a day!) why you both fight so much. She said you were under 'divorce'. I didn't understand what she meant by that word, so I Googled it up. Divorce means 'final termination of a marrage..'.
I didn't know what termination meant, and then I got bored, so I left that and went to Sharon's house to play dress up. But now, I wanna ask you both, are you under divorce?
Please tell me, so that I can tell Jenny what the truth is.

This time, I don't want any pink skirt or shoes. I want a puppy. I've even found out the breed I want, so that you don't have to waste time doing that. I know you both are very busy. I want a cute little Labrador. A golden one. Did you know that Sharon just got one for herself, and named him Shadow? He's so cute, I want one too!
I've completed my Math homework, and I'm finishing up this letter too.
I've not even made any spelling mistakes this year, unlike the last year, when I spelled understand as 'unerstand'.
I love you both, so please donot fight on my birthday.
Love, Kelly.

The Queen of Materialism

[As you must have guessed, IIT-D diaries has been called off. The obvious reason is, that the author herself got bored of it. She doesn't think IIT excites her enough to write about it.]

I always thought I was one person who never really wanted all those materialistic comforts, and was more on the spiritual sides. If that's what you call it. For this post, anyway. But perhaps I didn't know myself too well.

Surprisingly, one single event made the'Materialistic Me' wriggle out of my deepest doors of my mind, and stand right out, and shout, 'I was always here, honey!'

So. This is to announce the official arrival of the Queen of Materialism.

Her speech is as follows:

Hi all. Well, as you all probably have been told by my other half, I am indeed the person who craves for every bit of materialistic happiness possible. For quite some time, Spiritual Me had been dominating over me, and had begun to think that I possibly didn't exist. However, a change in the life suddenly woke Her up, and I've got a chance to prove my existence.

Here's what I have to say:

1. I cannot live without the luxury of an air conditioner. I have tried and tried and tried, but sorry, I'm tailor made to sleep with a bedsheet covering all of me, and basking in the cool blows of the A/C.

2. I cannot STAND the sight of horribly cooked food, let alone the thought of eating it. Spiritual Me had entirely convinced herself that she would do perfectly fine, and in the worst case she could OBVIOUSLY go to the canteen. But, yours truly, is so used to yummy food being served to her (preferably home cooked), that she is too lazy/haughty to do either. She'd rather starve herself by skipping meal after meal than stoop down to such a low level, as compromising on food. Never. Hah, Spiritual Me, my ass.

3. I hate the fact that I'm not sleeping in MY room, in the comfort of MY bed, WITH my mom on one side and my sister on the other. Spiritual Me would argue that part of this is her contribution, but no. I steal the entire credit for it, and I won't provide any reasons for it.

4. I cannot adjust with people who are NOT my friends. I choose my friends on a very random but fixed basis, and I just CANNOT think of every person I meet as a friend. I cannot sweet talk for more than five minutes to ANYONE, so this kind of life is clearly not working out for me.

5. I hate the fact that I have to walk half a kilometer back and forth, and there are no rickshaws to be seen ANYWHERE when I need them. I hate walking, my legs are too used to be not-in-much-use. Just hate it.

6. I just cant understand why I must do everything myself. Oh, yes, this is about growing up, right? Well then, I don't wanna grow up. I like buying books when there's a fixed day assigned to me and I'm just expected to say the name of the book and the shopkeeper is kind enough to bring it out for me. Library business is such a boring job.

7. How can I forget, I cannot LIVE without the television. NO. And that too, JUST as I have it in my house, with a bed near by where I can lie down in untmost relaxation and watch Star Movies forever and ever. Amen.

When I was deprived of all this, my ego was hurt, and I came out in the open. These are just the few things on which I cannot compromise. Spiritual Me has gone for a holiday. I'll update soon and let you know about the other things that have been snatched from me.

God save me from such drudgery.

P.S. You must have guessed what that single event is. Yes, dearies, it is IIT.

Maid Of Honour

My alarm sounded at its usual time that morning. I woke up hastily, and lulled my young one into slumber, satisfied that he had done his job of waking me up by howling his heart out.

It was dawn.
An urban alarm clock was something beyond my understanding. My two year old was assigned the duty of waking me up every morning. As I walked towards the slum bore well, I felt happy that my son was already a responsible lad, even when he couldn’t speak properly. I hurriedly washed myself and made my way back to my shack. My breadwinner lay there deeply engrossed in his dreams of fairyland, as I prepared myself for the drudgery that was about to begin. I changed my sari with the only other one I had, that was hanging on the wire in my shack, from one corner to another. I quickly shook my elder daughter out of her sleep, and pushed her out of the hut, so she could freshen up. In the meanwhile, I kneaded some dough and baked some rotis for my husband, who slept in undisturbed peace. I carelessly kept some milk in a tiny glass, for my two year old when he would be awake. With that done, I rushed outside and stole a pair of slippers from my neighbor’s house, and walked away. I knew there would be a long battle of words over the same when I would come back, but I had no other way to save myself from blisters in the scorching heat. On my way, I saw my ten year old daughter chatting up with a friend of hers, and I went up to her and deposited a tight slap on her face. I chided her for wasting time when we had none, and ordered her to immediately accompany me to work. When she tried to reason, I pulled her by the arm and walked away with no further explanations. The last thing I wanted my daughter to do was spend her day gossiping her heart out.
Work was just a ten minute walk away for me, but light years away from my life. It consisted of towering buildings and mansion like houses, something that I don't even dare to dream about. As I reached my workplace and rang the doorbell, my daughter begged to be left alone. My motherly pangs of affection were just about to let her walk away from this torture, when the door opened and my employer stared at me with angry eyes. I forgot all about being a mother, and stepped in with my daughter cowering behind me. The day of drudgery had begun.
‘You have decided to come late every day, and you think I’ll tolerate this kind of behavior?’ my employer barked, as she peered at my daughter’s tiny figure hiding behind my thin frame.
I mentally wondered how I had run late when my alarm had rung correctly, and I had done every activity after that with a quick pace. I confidently told my employer that I couldn’t be late.
‘Oh, so the clock in my house is lying? Don't give me such weird excuses, and get to work right now!’
I mumbled a curse under my breath, and turned to look at my daughter who seemed frightened. I whispered something into her miniature ear, and advanced towards the kitchen to do my job. Wash the utensils.
From the corner of my eye, I saw my daughter pick up the broom and make her way to the farthest room of the big house. The delicacy of her tiny hands contrasted very well with the rashness of the broom. As I picked up the first glass and applied soap on it, my daughter was stopped by my employer and told to keep down the broom.
I rushed to her defense and held her hand in full support as the lady spoke in a surly tone, her bespectacled glare making her look like a tyrannous monster.
‘How can you make her work? NO. She’s not going to do your share of work. If you can’t do your job, then leave it. But nobody else is going to do it for you!’
I stared at her face for some time in utter disappointment, and realized it wouldn’t be of any use arguing with her. The monster probably derived pleasure out of watching me slog in her house, and couldn’t tolerate the fact that I could use some help.
I patted my burden on her back and told her to wait outside the house till I finished the work. She stared at me with innocent eyes, and walked away.
I resumed washing the utensils as I recalled the day my daughter was born. My husband couldn’t be found and so my neighbors helped me give birth to her. They had to arrange for a dai at the last minute, because my husband vanished just two days before the delivery. My in-laws had expressed sheer disappointment upon giving birth to a girl, and had left me weak and unattended because of the same. Seema was born malnourished, and weighed quite less. As she grew up, I came to realize that she was a weak child, and couldn’t lift the burden of going to school and studying. Studying, after all, is a very tough task and she wouldn’t be able to do it at all. So it was decided that Seema would help me in my work, till she turned sixteen and then she would be married off to a nice household. Till then Seema was a burden I had to bear. But what my employer did was an act of pure insanity and meanness. She probably doesn’t realize that not allowing my daughter to work meant lesser money, which means I can’t save up for my son’s education.
Rich people can never understand.
I went on to sweep the floors of the lady’s house where she lived a lavish life with her two daughters. Apparently her husband worked elsewhere. As I swept one of the daughters’ rooms, I was rebuked by the lady for not doing my work properly. I argued with her for five minutes trying to tell her that I was doing my best, but then kept quiet lest she fired me. I couldn’t afford to lose this job.
Soon I was out of one monster’s house and was walking towards another monster’s house. Unfortunately, there was a hoard of guests at their house, which meant a million utensils for me to wash. As I washed glasses and spoons and cookers and crockery, I wondered if my son would be awake by now. He was a darling, but I never had the opportunity of spending quality time with him. He was probably sipping the milk I had kept for him, now. My thoughts were broken as a glass plate fell from hands and broke into pieces. Monster Two barged into the kitchen with fuming red eyes, and blazed at me for having committed the gravest crime of all times. As I tried to apologize for my mistake, she threatened to deduct money from my salary. I whined in front of her like a baby, and she excused my mistake after showering me with choicest abuses and walked away. I sadly continued working, and left the house with dejection being the prime emotion on my face.
It was lunchtime. I walked back to my house with quick steps, as my daughter tried to keep pace with me. She kept asking me irrelevant questions about this and that, which I answered mindlessly. My heart was actually longing for my beloved son, whom I cuddled to death when I saw him trotting on the road with that tiny shirt on him.
I fed him some boiled pulses, and kissed him a million times before I left for work again.
I told Seema to look after him, and even serve my husband if he came home for lunch. That drunkard.
Work was the same old song again. Monster number three reprimanded me for trying to break the handle of her cooker, as she thought that would make her give the cooker to me, which she said was my real aim. God!
Monster number four hinted that she thought I was being paid a tad too much and she should probably pay me a little less.
I smiled to everything and made my way to the last monster. Nothing mattered to me more than finishing my work and going back home.
But monster number five was probably disapproving of my intentions, and so she created the worst ruckus she could have.
As I swept her room with undeterred honesty and sincerity, she came up to me and demanded to frisk me. I suddenly froze, and demanded to know the reason for such disrespect.
‘Disrespect? What happened to your respect when you stole my clip and took away my hairbrush home with you yesterday? You think I don't know anything? You greedy and selfish people will never learn to be honest! Stupid thieves!’

A sense of self-esteem suddenly came over me. It was as if my soul was crying its heart out at being accused of thievery. I shouted at my employer with anger in my bloodshot eyes, and told her in plain words that I hadn’t done it.
‘That’s it! I won’t take in anymore! I haven’t stolen anything from your house, and how much ever you might want to blame it on me, I will NOT admit to this! And I won’t work in a place where people think I’m a thief! I’m leaving!’
With those words of pride and self respect, I left the house turning a deaf ear to all that Monster number five said to me after that. For a nanosecond, the realization of losing a house’s work pricked me, but it was soon overpowered by my need to be respected for who I was.
My steps quickened as I began to near my house. Tears started welling up in my eyes, as I turned across a bend and entered my house. My son clung onto me immediately, and I sobbed as I hugged him. I wept at what life was doing to me.
Thievery? Was that what people thought I did?
I wept even more when Seema asked me if I was okay. I nodded to make her feel fine, but deep down I wanted to cling onto someone and cry my heart out. I wiped my tears and pasted a plastic smile on my face, so that my children would smile. They smiled, and Seema told me very casually that the neighbors had shouted at her for having stolen their slippers, and that her father hadn’t been home since afternoon.
I swallowed that bit of news and stared into the falling night. I needed him, and he wasn’t there like always.
As I put my children to bed after feeding them on leftover pulses and rotis, I sighed at my life. When they went off to sleep, I went to my neighbors’ house and left their slippers there. Then I walked to the roadside bench, with sore eyes and a sullen face.
I stared at the tiny stars in the sky, and wondered if I mattered even that much to anyone.

Was anyone bothered?
Did anyone care about what had happened today? Any day?
When there came no answer, I walked back to my shack and lay down.
I forced my eyelids into sleep.
My kids still needed to be fed, after all.
Tomorrow still had four monsters in the waiting, after all.

The Tale Of The Jungle

Each movement brisk, each look guarded,
Slow and steady, it trudges through.
The eye is swift, the paws are ready,
The night is dark, the sky a scary blue…

A slight rustle of the leaves of the bush
A predator on its usual prowl,
But tonight is going to be different,
The weakling springs to action, and growls.

‘My prey, what cheek? Who dared to dare?
Thou art to die, thy end is near!’
The weakling maintains a profound silence,
No silly movement, it wants to steer.

The predator looks around,
Terror strikes his killer eyes.
As the weakling pounces and dives,
The trees tremble, thunder the skies!

‘Thou kill me tonight, my prey,
Thou art the King, Thou win…’
The predator breathes its last,
Defeated by its weakest twin.

The twin breathes heavy,
It trembles with dread and fear,
Victory it has finally achieved,
It rules the jungle, the mice, the deer…

It raises it head towards the sky,
The moon, the stars, all in reverence seem to bend,
It smiles, wryly, and then weeps,
And mourns at its sibling’s sad end…

The Nobel

I woke up in my lab that morning. I was lying on the floor. I just couldn’t recall what had happened last night, but the whole place was in shambles. Hydrochloric acid was all over the table, as if it were determined to make a sea of itself; and I could smell burnt sulphur around. My face itched with some salt crystals, probably Mohr’s Salt, I smelled pungent and my eyes were watering like they had been subjected to third degree torture. Most of the reagent bottles were on the ground, broken ruthlessly, with their contents already spilled out. The lab was in utter confusion and my memory a total mess. I shook off the crystals from my coat, and wiped my face with my dirty lab coat in a desperate attempt to sort things out. What had happened last night? It almost seemed like a hurricane had struck my peaceful abode.
I dexterously made my way through a completely dismantled laboratory that had been one of the cleanest I’d ever seen, some twenty four hours earlier. It no more looked like my laboratory. It seemed more like an ancient fort, dying a silent death. I shook my head at the unholy thought, and rushed up the messy staircase, that would take me to my house. I nearly slipped twice, because of a gooey mess of all kinds liquids on it. When I finally accomplished the task of reaching my house, I was surprised to discover that no hurricane had struck my place of resting. It seemed much like the place I had seen yesterday morning, before moving down to my lab. But the conclusion puzzled me even more, as I just couldn’t understand how my lab had become a scientist’s nightmare in merely twenty four hours, of which I remembered nothing. Intrigued by the mystery, I walked back to my lab.
I reached my desk hopping and jumping over pink and green colored floor, and looked around for a point from where I could begin cleaning up the mess. I threw one look at my desk, and the sight was too devastating to think of anything else. My pen stand had been wickedly broken into two, and my notepads lay there, as if they were looking for their identity. My rough papers, over which I had toiled the previous week, were all blue with Copper Sulphate solution all over them. I slowly picked them up, and began to squeeze out the liquid amidst the sheets, as I simultaneously threw my beloved pen stand into the dustbin. I caught hold of a rag from the window sill, the only dry object in my whole laboratory, and scrubbed my desk like a professional cleaner. I left my rough notes clipped at the window sill, so they could be dried, and referred to later. Although the paper was stained blue, and the ink had almost washed off, never mind the ‘Waterproof Ink’ sticker on the pen that owned it. I moved on to my reagent shelf, and realized that the rag was no good any more. And it was stinking more than me. I skipped up to my house, and came back with a handful of rags, and set my mind to work I wasn’t really used to.
An hour later I sat on my chair, and glanced around. My day as the sweeper was finally paying off, as my lab looked like mine again. At least it was recognizable. I sat there, panting furiously and tried very hard to recall last night’s catastrophe. I couldn’t remember an atom. I mentally calculated that I couldn’t have caused this chaos myself, unless I had a split personality, or I was clinically insane. Since I couldn’t settle for either, I decided that someone else had been here. I disappointedly realized that I would never really find out. I wasn’t ever good at Sherlock Holmes stuff. Nevertheless, I strained my brain to think of someone who could do such an evil thing, and million names came to my mind. It’s a bad bad world…
Since the time I had announced the topic of my research, I had suddenly acquired a whole new set of enemies, in addition to the already existing million. They all seemed terribly outraged, as if I had stolen away their share of fame and snatched away their Nobel Prize from them. My organisation dismissed my research as a mere fantasy, and refused to pay me for my work. That was my last meeting, as I had resigned that very day. I had offensively argued all through that meeting, trying to prove my point to the clan of idiots sitting in front of me. But they hadn’t paid any heed to any of my assertions. Today, they would be cooling their burning asses.
I smiled divinely as I realized that I had accomplished something the world thought was impossible. An extension to the Theory of Relativity was incredibly intelligent. Even Einstein would be proud. I was finally at par with the man I idolized even when I was in my mother’s womb. My dream of being another Einstein was finally coming true. It was a path breaking discovery in the history of mankind, and I could almost see myself walking down the aisle to receive my Nobel. I made a mental note to begin preparing a speech, as the day wasn’t too far. I recalled the previous day, when I had boisterously announced to my ex-organisation, after years of toil and hard work; that I had finally achieved what they had mocked me for even dreaming. I guffawed at my desk, as their gaping faces came to my mind. Their faces spoke of envy. Envy: because I had arrived at a place, where they could only dream of arriving.
As I played with the pen in my hand, the only undamaged one from the lot, I had a frightening eureka moment. I almost suffered from momentary paralysis, as I shatteringly thought about what had just occurred to me. I nearly died a million deaths in that one second, after which I reached for my locker, the only part of my laboratory that I had forgotten about. The heart of my laboratory.
I ran towards it, like I would be winning an Olympic Medal any minute, and stood in front of it breathless. I opened it in a split second, and shrieked in petrifying horror, as an ugly mouse jumped out of it. As the mouse jumped on my shoulder and leaped to the ground, I stood in bewilderment, staring at the sight unfolding in front of my eyes. My locker was as pink as a rose, a result of it being flooded with Potassium Permanganate. My research manuscript was in pieces, literally, and it spoke of last night’s horrors. A tear trickled down my cheek as I lifted my now-in-torn-state manuscript, and gazed at it with utmost love. For the last five years, I had locked myself up in this two storey house, away from those idiots who doubted my abilities, and toiled day and night for what now lay in my hands, soaked wet in pink water, and torn into a zillion parts. I cradled its remains, as I witnessed my miserable five years going down the drain. The research had been my religion, and I had worshipped it like a true deity, only to be rewarded by being allowed to witness its sad death. I fell to the floor, as my confidence decayed down, with the fastest half life ever. I wept and whined and cried and sobbed, shrieking for everything to be undone. Not even a molecule of hydrogen moved from its place.
I left my religion on the floor and stood up, wanting to be taken away from the lab immediately. I made a depressing decision to forget all about it, and move on. I couldn’t see myself spending another five, or even one year, or even a minute re-doing all my research. I wiped the uncontrollable tears from my eyes, determined to start life anew. I even had thoughts about giving up science altogether. Maybe being a scientist wasn’t all that great after all. I could do gardening, or sell eggs. Anything that didn’t require passion. Passion was synonymous to betrayal now. I turned to close my locker, wishing that I had got a secret lock or something installed; so that whoever had been here wouldn’t have succeeded in his cruel intentions. I sobbed even more when I realized that even if I found out who had done this blasphemy, I wouldn’t be able to retrieve my research from him. He hadn’t stolen it. He had destroyed it. Distraught, I looked at the locker one last time. As I was just about to close it, I saw a tiny brown paper lying in its farther corner. I picked it up disinterestedly, and opened it. What it read, was the cruelest thing I had ever read in any language or book.

‘Maybe being another Einstein isn’t all that easy after all. Einstein would have surely had a lock on his ‘lock’-er. That’s what they are for. Too bad our wannabe Einstein didn’t realize that yet.’

I crushed the note, and wept for my life. I wept for my dead research. I wept for my destructed lab. I wept for my pen stand. I wept for my five years. I wept for making a decision to sell eggs. I wept because I would be following it. I wept for god to see. I wept for myself. I wept for my Nobel.

Maybe the note writer was right.
Maybe there never could be another Einstein.

[Whoever said that science was boring :P I did, before I wrote this. :D]

The Other Woman - III

[ Alright. This is the last one, for now. Yet again, for those who haven't read parts 1 and 2, they aren't linked. Or rather, they are linked too deeply. So you can read it. :) ]

She loves me. She loves me not. She loves me…
The last petal fell from my hand before I could continue playing this stupid game.
She loves me. That’s where it stopped.
I kicked a nearby bottle in anger.
It was so weird.
My house reminded me of her.
My girlfriend reminded me of her.
Childhood reminded me of her.
Being online, reminded me of her.
Everything, reminded me of her.
As if she was walking beside me all through.
Why?
I recalled the last time I ever spoke to her. Ages ago.
She had sent me a patch up mail.
I’d agreed, but wasn’t ever able to do it. I couldn’t patch up.
Those eyes. Her.
They were the most difficult things in my life.
She was the most difficult part of my life.
I remember how my girlfriend had fought with her, for me. I didn’t know what to do.
My heart went out for both of them.
Yet I was being forced to choose one.
Or rather, I wasn’t being given a choice at all.

Everything changed after that.
Her silence accused me of betrayal. Betrayal I couldn’t face.
We stopped talking.
But she never went out of my mind. Not for a second.
I wondered why, as I switched off my room’s light.
My phone beeped.
‘Hey! Good night!’ it said. My girlfriend.
I stared at the phone.
And for the fifteenth time that night, I switched on the light, went to my balcony and plucked another rose. Red rose. That one’s for love, they say…
And I sat down.
‘I love her, I love her not. I love her, I love her not…’
Fifteen minutes later, it stopped at ‘I love her not’.
I smirked, and then laughed helplessly.
I did it for my girlfriend.
I thought about doing the same for her.
But I stopped. I didn’t want to know.
And this stupid game was turning out to be too truthful, anyway.
I went back to my bed and closed my eyes.
Ignorance is bliss.

[Once again, if you find resemblances, they are intended. Else, they arent. Ciao.]

The journey so far...

A feeble step on the vast ground,
The bougainvillea seemed an outright danger,
A heavy bag, stacked with books
To Carmel, I was a stranger…

A nervous wimp, a geek, a nerd,
I buried myself into copies and books,
I knew deep down this will never work…
But it was a lot better than the world with nooks.

I was scared to open up,
Afraid that people would jeer,
Under confident, weak and unnoticed,
I was a coward; it was established, and clear.

Six years later, a lot seems different,
I have a say, and I always say;
Arrogance, pride and selfishness,
These words are a part of my life everyday…

Friends, enemies, life changed for me,
People are to blame for what I am today.
But why, I am a happy soul this way,
And these traits with me will forever stay…

I don’t feel scared looking into the mirror,
This is me, and perfect like this…
I don’t know who to thank or blame,
For nothing at all, from the past, do I miss….

But one thing’s certain,
Carmel made all the difference,
I grew, I evolved. I changed, I became…
To this school, I owe my reverence…

The Other Woman

As I sat in one remote corner of my school, munching and relishing my ice cream, my mind thought…
Carmel feast.
She was downstairs, I could see her. I couldn’t exactly decide whether she had seen me or not. But my heart said she had. She stood there with her clan of friends, an ice cream in each hand. She seemed happy. Or maybe she was faking it. She perhaps just wanted me to feel jealous of her happiness.
I sighed.
No one noticed. I was alone in the corridors. Or maybe I was alone anyhow, just alone…

I could recall, remember. Or perhaps I hadn't forgotten it at all. It was difficult to forget, anyway.
She had shouted with anger, “If you think that you can take him away, just forget about it!”
I had stared at her, open mouthed. Maybe she was right, I had thought about it.
But surely, I hadn't thought about making it work.
Bitter as it was, it hurt. I shouted back at her, weakly though. I had no strength left. She had left me shattered. He had left me shattered.
As if coping with the fact that he didn't love me, and had chosen her over me wasn't enough.

It seemed as if she was laughing at me, as she ate her ice cream. I very well knew the reason behind that glint in her eye. She seemed evil.

I threw my ice cream and walked away.

Unfolded

Part IV

I ran as fast as my legs could,
Not once did I look back,
The fear gave me strength to run…
Away from my home, my slum, my shack…

When I finally stopped myself,
I had come a long way from home,
And here, in the city, I carved myself,
From pavements and shops…to a bed of foam…

People were nice, god was finally kind,
I made myself a new person forever,
But deep down, I still yearned to know…
Who turned that day of my life into a terror…?

My steps would want to go to that house,
And my heart would want to follow in line,
But the thought of meeting that man again,
Sent a shudder down my spine…

But thirty years later, I finally conceded,
And gave up everything, and walked…
I was fed up of that ‘why’ in my life,
I wanted answers, doors unlocked…

There wasn't any need to ask for the way,
As everyday, I saw it in my dreams,
And there, I landed in the past,
My eyes didn't shine, my eyes didn't gleam…

The toy gun fell from my hands.
And I came back, eyes moist,
I noticed now, that the slum was empty,
Not a single sound, except mine.

I tried to look for a breathing soul,
Someone who could give me my answers,
And then, I felt a hand on my shoulder,
It was the same hand, the same fingers…

P.S: To be continued...
P.S: Umm...I just discovered, there are 8 (not 6) parts to the poem. I duly apologise for such torture...which by the way, DOES NOT mean I'm not going to post them all.. :P

Unfolded

Part III

A six year old, I must have been,
Unaware of what destiny meant,
How a regular market walk would turn into a disappearance,
Is something, I had never even dreamt.

I touched the broken thing with a shiver,
As I recalled that scary night…
Three days had passed; I was hungry and tired,
And I begged my neighbors for a bite…

I whined and sobbed and cried and wept,
As they drove me away one by one,
I begged from one house to another,
And tried to distract myself with my toy gun.

After long, I felt a hand on my shoulder
I rejoiced; they had come back, returned!
But then, I felt someone pull my locks,
And a huge slap, I earned.

He snatched my toy gun, and held me tight,
He dragged me through the way,
I shrieked with fear and utmost disgust,
As he got me home, and walked away.

Puzzled, I ran after him,
And held him by the hand,
He threw me to one side of my room,
I saw the toy gun, now broken, beside me land…

He latched the door, and went away,
As I sat there nursing my wounded hand,
I knew I couldn’t live here anymore,
His coming back, I couldn’t stand…

I looked around nervously,
And saw the window, open, free…
Not once thinking of what I was doing,
I made my life’s biggest leap…

P.S : To be continued...

Unfolded

Part II

As I tried to open that brown and broken door,
A whiff of smells gathered about me,
The smell of the creeper that grew there long ago,
And the smell of mother-cooked food that I relished with glee…

Cobwebs covered the hinges now,
No more did it seem welcoming enough,
Apprehensively, I pushed it apart,
My home, my house – overcoming nostalgia is tough…

I saw a tiny me over there,
Sitting on the floor and uttering gibberish,
Across me, sat she, my creator…
Listening to me – no matter however childish…

I felt like standing there forever,
But I had come with a purpose here…
I ventured into the house like a stranger,
When I knew its every nook and corner.

My father’s study table still stood there,
And there he was - his bespectacled face…
He called to me, with loving hands,
As I stood there, shocked, amazed…

I blinked my eyes rapidly,
As I reached the final room,
This was what I never wanted to do,
This room, held everything responsible for my gloom…

Bravely, I opened that last door,
Bracing myself for the ultimate breakdown…
It seemed as if I was thirty years back,
When this room was my world, my country, my town…

Everything lay as it is, no tampering whatsoever,
My Barbie doll, my car, my book,
Each thing seemed so completely mine,
Except one thing, which I saw, and shook…


P.S : To be continued...

Unfolded

Part I

A feeble step in the dingy lanes,
A scared look at the filth around me,
I was as nervous as a new born child,
That night – it was as scary as could be…

It was a search in vain – I knew,
But my last try to rebuild my past.
In these dark slums and dirty shacks,
Memories of my childhood would forever last.

The innocence of my goofy smile,
Had been lost in this hut I stood before,
The day my parents just never returned,
And the last time I saw that shapeless door.

Thirty years, and I decided to return,
Looking for a familiar face, thing, place…
The life I had lived wasn't gratifying enough,
My parents’ existence, I had to trace.

My past was better than the present
And I wanted it back at any cost,
I had to dig up lots of buried truths now,
No matter, if my identity would be lost…

It was enlightenment, salvation perhaps,
This was what life had decided for me,
My life, an unsolved mystery till today,
Would be revealed, after years – so many…


P.S: To be continued...
P.P.S : I'm sorry for my long absence from the blog world. I just got bored of life. Thankfully I'm back.

That unlikely father...

He played with me.
He tied my laces for me.
He helped me get over with my leg pains.
He told me stories at bed time.


My father was the best thing that could have ever happened to me.

Being a victim of a metropolitan city life, I expected parents who had full time jobs, and practically no time for their little kid. And here I was, a father beside me…always willing to answer my weirdest questions, at any hour in the night.
I was a lost, dreamy kid who got the wildest dreams in the whole universe. But of course, my father was always there, when I used to suddenly wake up at odd hours, and cry out to him. He was interested in knowing what had troubled me, and then I would blurt it out to him, about how a cow had threatened me to snatch away my food and force me to gulp down its dry bread crumbs in exchange.
It didn't really bother me how he reacted to my tantrums, but the fact that he used to bear with them all, was enough.


He used to buy me chips whenever I asked for them. And of course, our outings were incomplete without a snack or two…
Life seemed perfect with my father.

I felt proud when other sissy girls of my age cribbed about their snoring dads and their weird ways…MY dad wasn’t in the least like them…

Mom was there obviously, but that was different. With dad, it was always, all about me. What I like, what I love, who I like, who I adore.

I grew up, and stuff changed.

Dad was never the same again. Or let me put it the other way; WE were never the same again. My friends changed, my life changed, my priorities changed.

His presence in my life lessened, as the year went by.
Obviously his stories weren’t required anymore.
His games didn't really excite me.
I could overcome my leg pains on my own.
And I preferred sleeping alone, than listen to his bed time stories.

However, we still adored each other. He was THE most important part of my life. He was all that mattered to me.

And one day, he just vanished.

Schizophrenia, said the doctors.

And since they had practically no better way to sort out stuff, they tagged me as a mental patient.

The irony being that this wasn’t a figment of a child’s imagination.

Who I considered father all these years…existed…lived…breathed…

The only difference being, that he existed just for me.

Sinful Soulmates

I pushed her down my balcony
A pang of guilt in my throat.
She, I know not, why turned enemy,
When, on each other, we used to dote.
I had a bitter mind for sure,
Or maybe, our bond went sour,
The past few months had passed away
In cat fights, arguments, wars.
We blamed each other for the lives we led,
I knew-she had spoiled my life.
She said her life was a complete disaster,
And I was the reason for her strife.
It was amusing, how God had played,
With me, her and us.
The irony of our lives, being...
We had nothing more than each other, left.
Too bad then, that I had to take a stand,
Too bad then, that i wanted a life without her...
Too bad then, that i wasn't ready to listen
But why, we were sisters.
Soul mates, supposedly.
But unfortunate, that she cheated on me..
And of course, the money of the bank robbery
Alas! Only she knew where it was!

P.S: It's the first time...poetry on my blog...and that too in blank verse. If you do not approve of it (of which I'm certain), please let me know. This will not be repeated ever again.

That Cokehead Lost...

When I woke up that morning, my head felt heavy. I wasn’t exactly feeling all well. Infact, I just wasn’t well. My head felt dizzy, I had a running nose. I put together all the strength that I had, to get up and look around. I was on the beach. I tried to recall how I reached there, but after three lines of coke that I had snorted last evening, I obviously couldn’t remember. I tried to convince myself that I must have come here myself last night. I had no other choice, anyway.
As I stood there, staring at the violent waves, my life flashed in front of my eyes like a film roll. And I began to reminisce.

I knew my life wouldn’t be rosy the day I left my home, and along with that, a cozy life. But never in my wildest dreams had I imagined that it could get so rocky.
My parents had seemed like tyrants to me. They had a problem with everything that I did. And when, one fine day I realized that the life they wanted me to live wasn’t exactly the one I wanted to, I stomped out of the house. Anyway, they had expressed their disgust of the fact that I was their daughter, the day they found out I smoke and drank. I walked out, swearing under my breath to never return.

As I embarked upon a new life, all I carried along with me, was a bag in which I’d stuffed a few clothes and my certificates which proved my education. I had to carve a life out of these, and I knew there wasn’t any other way.
I got a job at a call centre. They paid me enough to fill my belly, but not enough to buy a house. I stayed at a pal’s place for a month or so, after which she blatantly refused to give me refuge. That was the first time I felt I ad done a huge mistake by walking out. I felt scared as I walked out of my friend’s house. I was completely broken.
I could see that I had no purpose in life. And that troubled me.
I spent the night under a street light. Homeless, helpless, alone…
I went to a bar the next day. That’s where I met a peddler, who offered to sell drugs to me. I refused, and walked away.
But the next time I went to that bar, and was trying to find peace in my vodka, I met him again. It was pure coincidence, and this time, I couldn’t refuse.
I found a purpose to live – cocaine.
The peddler would supply me cocaine, and I would pay him all my salary for it.
Cocaine was tremendously hallucinating, and I began to find peace in it. Each shot of it left me so lost, so high…
It was a healer, it took me away from all the troubles of the world.

I still lived on the roads, but now, I cared less.
I never felt anything was going wrong with me, till one day, my nose began to bleed. It pained severely. I tried to convince myself that it couldn’t be because of drugs. I couldn’t.
I knew it was cocaine.
But I never went to a doctor. I was scared. And there wasn’t anyone to force me anyway.
Life moved on.
My meetings with the peddler increased. I now snorted almost eighteen lines of coke everyday, after which I passed out.
One such night, I fainted. I hadn’t passed out, I had fainted with the pain I my nose, from where blood oozed out like anything.


When I opened my eyes next, I saw myself in a room which had been mine some time ago. Beside me, I saw my parents, who wept like anything. I cried. And I hugged them as tightly as I could. I didn't want to leave them. I just wanted to come back.
I was glad they agreed with me.

I had learnt my lesson.

Perhaps.

Perhaps not.

Cocaine never went out of my mind. Life seemed incomplete without it. I hadn’t any will power to stop myself, so I feigned evening walks and went in search of my peddler.

I found him, and with him, I found cocaine.

My parents found out soon. Their faces told me they had given up all hope. They seemed shattered. And I couldn’t stand it.
I decided to leave once again. It was just my way of telling them to forget that they had a daughter. This time, they didn't stop me.

I knew I was ruining my life, as I met the peddler once again and snorted three lines of coke.
But somewhere deep down, I just wasn’t bothered. Cocaine was now my life. It was a different point that it was poison, too.

That was yesterday. As I watched the waves come and go, I realized how I had ruined my life to an extent after which I couldn’t step back.
And I was sad to admit, that I wasn’t happy with it.

I knew what I had to do today…let the waves take me away. For the first time after so long, I felt like being led by someone…

I needed a better high than what cocaine gave me, and what could be better than death.


Not much was left of life now…
Not much of life was left now…

Hunger

Navratras.
It’s a moment of sheer joy for someone like me, who hasn’t the chance of eating even one meal a day. I heard one lady say something about the Durga goddess, one of those days. It’s for her, said she. I would never know any better, so I decided to flaunt this new bit of knowledge I’d gained on one of my usual trips to the temple.
I live in Dwarka. For some people to whom god is just perpetually kind, this place is heaven. I have often stood outside the gates of those high buildings, higher than I can bend my neck, and looked at them longingly. No, I don’t want to be there, but just want to actually know what these people do in big houses. But before I can even try to figure that out, I am abused by the guard sitting there, who has no work except to shoo away people like me. I am a ten year old, and I have a family – a mother who lurks around temples in hope of getting some food to fill her belly and mine too. A father who has lost all will to live, but still manages to trudge up to his work place, where he has to set up bricks. I feel proud to announce it to all my friends, that my father has built the building right opposite to where all of us live.
Little do people know about where I live. Across the temple, there is a straight line of tiny huts, that’s where my house is.
I have a bigger family than that, if I think about it. After all, all the people out there, who get together every festival near the temple, are my family. I’m one of them. And that’s exactly how I remember that day.


Ashtami. My mother told me. I nodded blankly, as I ruffled my disheveled hair early in the morning. Still partly asleep, I heard her say about how we’ll have to hurry up and reach the temple gates if we have to receive prasad from all the people who come there.
That’s why Navratras were sheer joy. All those rich people would come to the temple, with delicious offerings, which for once would fill my belly. Poori, halva, and most importantly the coins in there, hidden between this luscious food. It was sure a treat, and with that thought in mind, I hurriedly went to the temple.

Many came there, and I lankily stood with bare hands, as they filled my hand with what they thought was their way of thanking god. I didn't believe in god. I mean, had he been there, why wouldn’t he do something about me?
I saw some uncles dressed in plain white kurtas, with a tilak on their heads. All my friends rushed towards them, as we knew they would have something to give us. They did, obviously. I ate some halva, as one of my friends snatched the rest of it from me. I didn't want to fight with him for such a thing, although that meant he had stolen my food away. I had few friends.

By the time it was noon, there was a huge rush at the temple. I stared at the people walking in and out of it. Some were so gaudily dressed as if god would give them extra if they dressed like that. All of them seemed so happy going inside, and so satisfied coming outside that they surprised me. I could not understand what made them so happy. Somewhere deep down I envied them, as I wasn’t as lucky with god as they were. I shrugged and turned away from the temple.

As I walked around, I spotted two women making their way towards us. They had a huge plate in hand, which meant they would be giving us something. A smile swept across my face, as I advanced towards them. On nearing them, I tried to study them both. They were mother and daughter. The daughter was pretty, and appealed more to me, more so because she had the plate in her hand. She seemed apprehensive, maybe it was the first time she had the plate in her hand. Her mother walked in an arrogant fashion, with a maroon bag in her hand. The daughter looked so nervous, so gullible in comparison.
As I was just a metre apart from them, and the girl was about to give me something, and I had stretched my hand in response, someone gave me hard push from behind. I almost fell aside, as a clan of boys, some of which were sadly my friends, surrounded the two.
I stood aside and watched.
They seemed completely helpless. The daughter seemed as if she would just cry out loud. All these ugly creatures around her, trying to snatch off the plate from her, the sight was just so captivating that I just stood there, numb.
My friend, who had snatched my food earlier that day, made his way through the crowd of boys. He almost shouted at all of them. I was glad I hadn’t fought with him. He was helping the girl after all.
“Don’t try to snatch!” he shrieked, “Stand properly; they’ll give it to you!!”

Wow, that’s what friends are for. I couldn’t believe that he’d done such a noble act. The girl gave him a grateful smile, as she handed the plate to her mother, so she could give away the prasad. She had a beautiful smile. I noticed she wore a simple pant and shirt, yet looked so enchantingly graceful. As she began to lift one plate from the many others in the huge plate, my friend pushed her out of the way, and cornered her mother.
I couldn’t believe it. I wish I had fought with him, bastard.
She tried to find her way through the street urchins, in an attempt to reach her mother, who was trying to save the plate from the wild attack. The girl finally gave up and stood at one side. I was still standing on the pavement and staring at her, when I heard a huge bang! BANG!
They had done what I never wanted them to do. The plate had fallen off, and all these idiotic boys completely ransacked its contents. The mother stood there, defeated, and so did the girl. When the boys were completely satisfied with what they’d done, they moved away, only to see the mess they had created. Bits and pieces of the holy prasad lay on the ground, while the rest of it was still in their dirty mouths.
I just couldn’t identify with this desperation among these boys. I was hungry, but not wild and biolent.
I felt disgusted, ashamed of belonging there. I just didn't want to call these insensitive beasts as my friends, as my family.
I glanced at the girl. It was as if the sight was just too much to stand for her. She held her disappointed mother by the hand and led her away, as the mother grumbled something at us.
I sprang to action. I wouldn't say sorry, but I just wanted to talk to her. Something…anything.

“Listen…” I called to her, as she walked away.
She turned, as she gave me a stern look. I don’t think she recognized me; I was the guy she wanted to give the prasad to. But no, she was just too upset.
“I…I didn't get the prasad.” I uttered, as she stopped and her mother walked ahead.
She looked at me sternly and said, “You won't get any prasad, if you drop it all on the road.”
She added as she walked away, “Never have I seen such wild creatures!”

I stood there, angry, betrayed. I didn't even do anything! Infact, all this while I had been thinking about her…and that’s what she tells me?
I gave a mean look to the temple, hoping god was looking. And then I walked away to my house. I didn't want to eat anymore.
No more was I hungry.
That had happened for the first time in my life—I wasn’t hungry…


P.S: I hereby apologise for my inexcusable irregularity in posting. I hope you will appreciate my comeback...

Listen....One LAST time....

10th December.
I guess it wasn’t even an important date in anyone’s life….but for me….it was.
It was my brother’s engagement ceremony….perhaps the most important event that had ever occurred in my life. I was seventeen, preparing for my twelfth board exams.
But nothing excited me more than my brother’s wedding, which was due in February.
As luck would have it, I had terrible fever on the 10th.
Mom and dad said I would have to get a check up done. I persisted, but they were simply adamant. They told me, after collecting the reports from the doctor; I could arrive at Okhla, where the ceremony was to take place.
They promised me, nothing would take place without me being there.
Since they didn't give me much choice, I agreed.

As they left the house early in the morning, I decided to catch up on some sleep before visiting the doctor. Anyway, no doctor would be available at such unearthly hours, I thought.
After a sound sleep, I woke up and went to the doctor. He wasn’t my family doctor so I had to be as formal as possible with him. We didn't have a family doctor, for some unknown reason. I wished him good morning, as he told me to take a seat.
As he took out my report from one of his furnished drawers, he stopped.

He then said to me, “Listen Rohan, I want to give this report to an elder person.”

I smirked at him. After such a drive in the terrible winter, he tells me that he doesn’t want to give the report to me.
But then it puzzled me. I asked, “But why?”
The doctor said, “You’ll get to know….get an elder family member with you please.”
I tried to explain to him that everybody had left for my brother’s engagement, but that stupid doctor wouldn’t listen.

I began to think about the elders I knew, who could help me with this problem I was stuck in.
Only one name came to my mind.
Karan bhai.
He was my elder brother’s best friend. Oh my god.
I had to hurry, else he too would be off to Okhla and I wouldn’t know what to do.
I hurriedly gave him a call at his place.

Karan bhai stayed with his own brother and bhabhi. He had been with my brother in all his ups and downs of life. He was more than family to me. I had grown up just in front of him.
As I narrated the entire episode to Karan bhai over the telephone, he said he’d be there as soon as possible.
I heaved a sigh of relief. At last, I would attend the engagement.
Meanwhile, mom called me up. She was literally shrieking when I told her I was still at the doctor’s. Before I could tell her that he had refused to give me the report, she snapped at me, and told me to hurry up.
I made a face as I cut her call. Parents can be so unreasonable. As I waited for Karan bhai to come, I saw some TV in the doctor’s office.
Since it was still morning, and early morning at that, only news was being aired on the DD channels. This doctor was a bored human, I guessed; since he had no cable.

Karan bhai reached in no time, as our houses were just twenty minutes apart.
He hugged me and said, “Couldn’t you have got the check up done later? Bothering me for no reason at all. I have so much work to do at your brother’s wedding as it is.”

I whined like a baby as I complained about the doctor’s weird behaviour.
Karan bhai too greeted the doctor and said, “I’m his brother’s friend. Can I have the report please?”
The doctor was perhaps in the weirdest mood that day. He took Karan bhai to one corner, murmured something into his ear and then handed him the report.

As Karan bhai walked out of the office with me by his side, he was silent.
That’s when I guessed something was wrong…with my reports.
I asked him a hundred times, but he did not reply.
At last when I gave up, he said, “Lets go, I think we’re damn late. I hope they haven’t exchanged rings…”
This kind of made me forget everything, and we both rushed to Okhla on our bikes…for the engagement.


My mother reprimanded me again, and didn't want any reasons still, so I ignored her and enjoyed the festive mood.
My bhabhi was the most beautiful one I had ever seen…and she was equally fun to be with. I was so glad that now I would have a partner in crime at home, and mom and dad wouldn’t just be after me…after all, they were going to have a daughter-in-law to worry about.

The engagement ended on a beautiful note, as my brother hugged the life out of my bhabhi. They were such a cute couple….I wished I too would get a girl like that.

Meanwhile, I saw Karan bhai handing the reports to my brother….and I also saw my brother going pale.

This was enough. Why couldn’t people just tell me that I had some problem? I mean, what could it be…elders just get tense for no good reason. I could bet it was just some typhoid, or jaundice…or maybe in the worst scenario…chicken pox.
So? Big deal???



But I guess they knew better than me. A few days after that, my brother and Karan bhai took me to another doctor.
Karan bhai told me that it was their family doctor.
I nodded as I knew why they needed a family doctor and we didn't. Karan bhai’s brother had two lovely daughters Jiya and Parul.
Parul was around ten, and Jiya was not even eight I think. They were so cute, that categorizing them as kids and assuming that they were irritating would be unfair.
But anyway, they were kids, and needed a doctor.

Their family doctor was their very good family friend too, I discovered as she welcomed all of us with a warm smile. As I was told to wait outside, the ‘elders’ did some talking with her inside. By now I had given up on knowing about the reports…because I knew they were unnecessarily getting worried.

After some serious talk, we bade good bye to the beautiful doctor, and went to another hospital, which I guessed had been referred by the lady doctor.

I was told to give another blood test, like I’d done when I had fever. Even that day I had been wondering why they needed a blood test, but that doctor had told me they would need it to check for some viruses. I had simply nodded, as I didn't understand much.

This time I didn't ask questions. I simply gave my blood test without much speculation.


The blood test made Karan bhai and my brother literally white in the skin.
And I realized that it wasn’t actually mere typhoid or chicken pox.
It was something serious…and I wanted to know what….




I soon figured out….when I was admitted in the Cancer ward at AIIMS, Delhi.



Life after that wasn’t very good. Though I wasn’t required to study, there was a hell lot I went through.

I saw mom with watery eyes forever. And dad trying to be brave…but not being successful at all. And brother trying to be as casual as he could pretend to be. And Karan bhai being the joke cracker, which he really wasn’t.
Bone marrow replacements…chemotherapy….and I soon figured out that I was suffering from Blood Cancer…..and hey, it was a big deal….

Around two weeks later, I was getting impatient. The doctors weren’t leaving me alone even for a second. My whole body pained with those injections and treatments.
I used to often shout at them, “Just leave me alone….for god’s sake!”

But nobody wanted to listen. Everybody was bent on curing me from cancer…which I knew was incurable…and a terrible disease.

Karan bhai’s family came to meet me one day.
Parul and Jiya hopped around the place, and played the video game, the only thing I was allowed to do at the hospital.
They perhaps didn't realize the gravity of the situation….kids…
But aunty and uncle did.
As they sat by my chair, I told them “My whole body pains. And I’m bored of eating the same thing day and night…”
They nodded like they understood, even though everybody knew that they didn't….couldn’t …


Another week passed by, and it dawned upon me that I wouldn’t be fine after that…
It was cancer, and high time I realized that life had ditched me…



And I have realized.

I know I won’t be able to see my brother’s family.
I know I won’t be giving my boards.
I know that mom and dad do not cry ‘just like that’.

And so, I just want to make myself feel better.
I want to feel, one last time, that I’ve had a good life….
I want to know, one last time, that I was a good human being…


Because…


Because I’m dying….




P.S.: This account is non-fictional. It is perhaps my tribute to the only person I had ever considered as my elder brother…

THANK YOU...FATHER...

***********Acknowledgments************

Awrite, without creating anymore confusion about how someone is going to kill someone else...let me put it down clear and right.

Thank you Disha...(wait, I'm coming to it!) I think it was one of the days when everyone was practicing for the farewell. You, me Saumya and Taps were playing throwball remember?? that's when you came close to the throwball court net and said something like

"Mujhe is jail se bahar nikalo..."

It was just a line people...but I swear it, this whole story weaved out of it...

Bas!!! Now you know....saw 'Awwwww....'.....

Thank You Father.....

"Get me out of here! Damn you!" I cried as my father walked away...leaving me alone in that dingy jail..where I had been for the past one month. I was getting used to the aura, the feel of this stupid place, something I never wanted.
It was the last thing...the last thing I could have expected from him..my 'father'. Yeah right...fathers aren't supposed to be criminals...criminals to such an extent that they leave their own child in jail...that...was my father...

All the fine memories that I had of my childhood consisted only of ma and me. As a kid I always heard myself say that my father had been transferred abroad as an exports manager. I wish I had known...I wish ma had known and taken me away from the man who ruined me...
I perhaps would just be comforting myself if I say ma passed away...she was killed...by the same man who claimed to be my father.
A month back, one night when my father was on 'leave' and had come to meet us, two people entered our house. My father welcomed them. It was strange that he still knew people in India as he had been in Dubai for quite some years..
Anyway my mother served them tea while I sat there, carefully watching the two. They were dirty looking men, who looked like cokeheads to me. I was still studying them when my father told me to go inside. It was the strangest thing he had ever said to me. I obeyed him with suspicion. I went into my room and began to watch some silly movie when I heard my mother's shriek. I ran towards the living room, only to see one of the men fire a bullet into my mother's head....

It was the hardest moment I have ever known...as ma fell to the ground. I slowly advanced towards her, and sat beside her on the floor,while drops of blood surrounded me...
I was still lost and staring at her, and the only thing I saw her do was point a finger at my father...

This shook me, and as I began to understand what she meant, ma breathed her last...

She was gone, and the man who killed her was standing in front of me...i ran towards my father in revenge, but the two men held me.

"You bastard, you killed my mother!!...." i shouted, as my focus shifted towards the table, where i saw a bag full of pistols...and a photograph beside it...
"Dad...you..are a terrorist? You're killing the....you maniac! the Chief Minister!!!" I uttered as I tried to break free from them.
My father hadn't uttered a word till then. He finally spoke...
"Look Maya, this isn't something that I could have chatted with you about. It's business, and this is what I am...I think you need some time alone..." he said as he held me by my arm, "Your mother shouldn't have heard our talk... dont worry, no one will come to know of this..."

His words shocked me even more than the fact that he was a terrorist.
I shook his hand off me and gave him a tight slap.
"You're telling me to keep quite about this sin that you just did?? You call yourself human? You're insane!! This is the shit you've been upto in dubai... And you will pay for it..."
I walked towards the telephone, determined. I crossed ma's body in the way. But there wasn't time for me to cry at her death.... he would have to pay for what he did....and what he had been doing all these years...
I was about to pick up the receiver when something hit me hard on the head...and I fell to the floor.


It was the toughest night of my life....
I opened my eyes and saw myself in jail...
"What the hell am I doing here? Where's my father...he's a terrorist..." I screamed as a policeman slapped me hard.
"Shut up you bitch!" he said as he pulled my hair and I screamed in pain. "A woman who can kill her mother is a terrorist...not your father..."


It took me some time to sink in what he had said while he locked me up in the cell and went away.
before I could figure out what my father had done, I saw him come towards me.
As he stood across the bars...he said, "I'm sorry child...but it's business you see...you wouldn't listen...take care...I'm going to Dubai forever. Your mother is cremated at St.Paul's. I only wish your mother hadn't heard us talk about the Chief Minister..."

"Take me out of this place...you..." I cried as I saw the monster go away....
"Hey! You bastard! Get me out...you cant do this!!!"

When I realised that he wouldnt turn back, I stopped....and for the first time in twenty-four hours I cried...at my father's betrayal, at ma's death....at myself....

This wasnt exactly the life a father wishes for a daughter....

As I put myself together and sat on the jail bench, the policeman came back and said, "Fourteen years...but had I been judge, you should have been hung..."

I smiled to him and said, "I wish you were judge....."

As he gave me a disgusted look, i poured myself a glass of water from the jug kept aside me...

A month later, he came to meet me again...saying that he was leaving...
That's when I saw him last, and the last time I said, "Get me out of here! Damn you..."

*******************

Hmmm...

Spirit…

The humor that he had,
The smile that made me swoon…
His silly ways were quite surprising,
Because they swept me off my feet.
Never in my life had I witnessed,
A man of vibrant hues, moves neat…

The humor that he had,
The smile that made me swoon…
He splashed color into my life.
A life that seemed lifeless, colorless...
I had begun to smile, to laugh...
He was the man, no more, no less…

The humor that he had,
The smile that made me swoon,
He was the joy of my life,
Till the day he committed suicide.
He had given me reason to live...
And lost his…and died…

His funeral day was the last one,
After which I never cried,
No tear ever fell down my eyes…
His ‘spirit’, I decided to keep alive…