The Page Fiction

I Too Had A Dream

2011-12-26T06:48:00.000-08:00

First 20 years are undoubtedly the most important part of life. You are full of ideas, you want to do things, you want to learn and a lot of crazy thoughts you want to experiment with. 4 years in college make the best part of it. You are literally free there, to experiment with what you learn and learn what you want to. Things work out, good! If they don’t, well it doesn’t hurt much.

By the time you are in 4rd year you realize there is still so much left to do and time has passed by real fast! You try hard but planning things becomes out of control. There is a B.Tech project, there are placements, there is CAT, there are further studies option to ponder about, there are massive expectations mounting from everywhere. And then there in one corner is the idea you are crazy about. You think may be its time to let it be at ease for a while till you deal with other things. Placements start! You are not shortlisted in Day 1 and Day 2. You tell your Dad, he is not disappointed but surprised why you didn’t make it? First interview, you don’t go through. Second interview, you don’t get to the final round. People around you are getting placed and that leaves you worried. Pressure starts to crack you down and just when you start to think that it is all luck, in the very next days you are placed!

You went through so much in this time! There were so many things to manage and so little time for everything. Exhausted you take a break. Everyone back home congratulates you for the job while on the back of your mind you know you don’t want to do it. Then a certain uncle tells you about how you would do brighter things in future and may be work for the biggest companies in the world very soon. People ask you when you are going to settle abroad. You don’t know the answers yourself but you put on a smile.

So much pours down upon you in literally a span of 3 months that you start doubting your dream. You cannot put the same faith in your idea anymore. But you don’t give up. One day you go and talk to your dad and tell him about your crazy idea- to be on your own and work for your crazy dreams. And he does not deny you from doing anything but just advise you to take the job for a while and gain some experience. And six months later, there you are- in the corporate food chain, fighting to etch a name of your own.

You never realized how fast time moved after that. You earned good, you partied a lot, you made new friends and suddenly life was not all that bad. Until one day, you return from a hectic day in office and started thinking about the years that have passed by since college. You switched companies and increased you pay packet. You own a car and you have travelled abroad. You earn some respect in your work. But there is something you have missed. You don’t know what it is but somewhere you feel it.

You take a break again. You look around to figure out how much world has changed. Only then you realize that you are 28 years old now! You meet up friends and find out that some person you knew in college is making it big. He owns a company and works on his crazy ideas. All your friends talk about him. You go back in time and revisit your idea. You too had a dream. You can’t sleep next few nights. You go to your father and discuss about the idea again. He doesn’t deny anything but asks you to think and plan everything before taking any step. Your mother asks you to get married. You ignore it.

You return to office thinking that you will work upon the idea but a great project comes and demands you. You know you can do it and give it all it needs. It takes a year to complete it. Your work is appreciated and everybody applauses you and holds you high. Years pass and you get married too. You have a kid as well.

Finally one day you decide that you have done enough and you deserve to give a shot at something new. Nobody stops you but everyone advises you to think carefully and wishes you luck. You work upon your idea. It seems difficult but you know well how to get things done. You work like mad in the coming months. You give it all. And in the end; it fails.

You sit back and think what went wrong. You revisit the very first time you had a crazy idea that you wanted to work upon. You turn your head around and see your kid calling you. And then you realize; it is the 20 years that have passed by.

Link to the article on iitstories.com

Curls In The Sky At IIT Kanpur

2011-11-30T05:45:00.001-08:00

It was the time of Antaragni in IIT Kanpur. The campus was unusually noisyand full of beauties when I happened to see one incident which seems to comestraight from facebook funny videos. Two girls were walking down the campusroads when someone on a bicycle stopped by and "Boom!" For a secondall curls of the girl were in air and I wondered how do they manage it, theother moment a scream turned me to the man on bicycle who had sort of spankedher head and run off! In the campus, I came to know about someone names Ashyup,a man you must be terrified from, a man we had heard of only in stories, a manwho does not exist.

21 years ago there was a tree in the campus, a tree with long curls. It issaid to be a banyan tree. Reportedly a student in lack of company and companionmade friends with the tree. Souring relationships with academics, labexperiments and Professors forced Ashyup to turn to the curly tree and sharehis plight with it. Later he fell in love with its curls and treated it as hisgal. As with any tragic story this one was also not going to last. The romanceof Ashyup was shaken the day he found that a new hostel was to be built on thesite and the tree would be cut. Curly Tree had only few days left and Ashyupgave all of his time to her (Her!...yes the relationship had become prettyserious in last two months.) He would swing with her curls, narrate tales and tellher how it would be okay and all.

The judgment day of the Curly arrived and it was being cut from the bottom.Ashyup could see it no more. He ran and took the tree in his arms. Theconstruction workers tried to console him then request him then forced him toleave but he didn't. So they decided to continue cutting the tree while it wasin Ashyup’s arms...and suddenly, THUD!!! The tree with all its curls swingingin the sky fell on the ground. Every worker around ran towards the site to lookfor Ashyup but he was nowhere to be found. With the life of curly Ashyup haddisappeared too.

Many theories have been proposed since about what happened but the mostaccepted theory is that in the last moments of Curly, Ashyup became one withher and disappeared with her soul. Later on that site GH2(Girls Hostel 2) wasbuilt up and ever since curls of the girls is being swung by Ashyup every nowand then.

Some say that Ashyup does not like the curls of the new girls at all and sohe comes to make fun of them. Others say that Ashyup comes to remind the worldof Curly's curls who had to sacrifice her life for GH2. Anyways to honour themartyr Ashyup was and his love for Kesh (Hair or curls) he was laterrechristened to Keshyup (Kesh-up).

Hope everyone in IIT K would let their curls free once in a while to honourthe man.

Up, up Keshyup!

A Tragic Death Story

2011-06-13T15:09:00.000-07:00

Aman finally broke down when he visited his school teachers home. When he was in 8th class, one Tuesday, he came to school only to realize that he left his homework copy at his desk. Mr. Neeraj Pandey, his English teacher was one furious man. When Aman could not produce his homework, he took his stick, broke off from a bamboo tree and hit him 3 on each palm. Usually Aman would not say a word, afraid that he might get more punishment. After the class he would just yell at Shekhar, who was the class monitor and in charge of bringing sticks. Rascal would never ever say that he did not find a stick. He always gets one and always a good one. He was brilliant at studies and must have something against the rest of the class. Probably his ego was too big and had no heart. But today was a different day; Aman had done his homework and missed the copy. When teacher went to Shekhar and he produced his homework, neat, correct and perfectly done, the teacher could not stop praising his sincerity. He looked towards other students in contempt, a contempt that meant that they were all worthless. When the teacher took his eyes towards Aman while preaching the class about learning from the attitude and hard work of the topper of the class, Aman could not keep it.

"Sir I did do homework. I just forget my notebook. You don't need to praise him so much."

No one ever dared to speak up straight against Mr. Neeraj's authority. He came all enraged towards Aman and slapped him so hard, the sound echoed from the walls. When he lifted his hands again, Aman grabbed him and slapped back as hard as he could and he did not stop. He kept beating his teacher up. But it was almost like the scene when elder and younger brother fight over an argument and the elder always beats the younger one up. When Aman found that he was terribly overpowered and Mr. Neeraj had been insulted enough, he just ran away. Aman was suspended for 15 days. It was his father's repeated requests, almost begging the Principal not to put him out of school that saved him a year. He also had to apologize to the English teacher. Aman, however, also had to say "Sorry." after being forced and threatened by his father and the Principal of the school. Next year Aman was admitted to a different school but he did not do well in studies after the incident. His anger destroyed his education.

15 years had passed since the incident. Who remembers such a thing after 15 years? After all, things like this do happen in all schools where students are vulnerable to punishments. But why was Aman at Mr. Neeraj's home today? Has revenge brought him back? Does he still blame his teacher for loss in his career?

When the door opened, a fragile man came out, wearing his glasses trying to recognize the face in front of him. Mr. Neeraj had grown more than his age. Seeing a healthy man in mid-thirties, he thought, probably would be there to collect some bills or collect donation money for some charity.

"Who are you?"
"Aman."
"Aman who?"
"Do you remember having rough time in the school in 1988?"

Mr. Neeraj thought for a while. An old man going back in time, counting tragedies that every year had brought, it takes a while to go 15 years back. When his memories did reach the year 1988, his mouth was left open in fear and in anger.

Why was Aman here? He must be here today to show that he did become a big man without his English teachings after all. What a fool! How big his ego must be to come back years later for that? Or is he here for revenge?

"What do you want?" the bitterness and agony of 15 years came stronger in his voice than his thoughts.
"I just want to talk sir. There is something I want to say. Can I come in?"

Pretty dare thing to ask an enraged and bitter old man. He did not want to but Mr. Neeraj had no choice, he did let him in. Servant brought water for them and soon came back with tea. The old man was cursing his servant for not knowing how to treat guests and shameless people like the one sitting right there.

"So how have you been? How is life?"
"It is good sir."
"I heard from Shekhar that you managed to get a diploma."
"Yes sir."
"So did you get a job too?"
"I did get a job but then I left it only recently."
Must have been fired, Mr. Neeraj thought, sipping his tea with utmost pleasure while listening to his ruined life.

"What did you do?" He asked without showing much interest, apparently.
"I worked as a draftsman."
"How much did you get?"
"Rs. 3000 per month sir."

Who would pay you more than that? The old man's soul was getting satisfied by the misery of his own student.

"Good." He said viciously.
"How are you sir?" Aman asked politely. The soft tone almost touched old man's heart. He retreated and replied with his firm voice.
"How would an old man be? I am good. Waiting to die you know. I wish I had more students like you to teach." He said contemptuously but Aman did not seem to feel bad.
"How is madam sir?"

It almost came as a shock to him. Was he trying to hurt him by asking such a question? Did he not know that they divorced long ago?

"We are separated, Aman." He wanted to sound bitter but the feeling of loneliness curbed him.
"Oh I’m sorry sir."

As if you are really sorry raising such a question only to make me feel bad. The old man was indeed feeling sad at being separated and felt it was cruel to have been asked about it. But he also knew it was his anger that drove his wife and his children away but right now he wanted to be angry and the conflict made him restless. He was about to say that he has some work to attend to and it was nice meeting him when it occurred to him to ask about the visit.

"So Aman why did you come to meet me after all these years? Any work you have got?"
"No sir."
He waited for Aman to speak but he didn't, so he just added
"Okay."

He waited getting more and more uncomfortable and impatient with the silence that held them, when Aman broke.
"Sir, I am here to apologize for what I did."

So his life did teach him a lesson. Mr. Neeraj felt proud now. He felt triumphed and viciously happy more than he had been in many, many years. As more tears fell from Aman's eyes, more satisfied did he feel. But Aman did not stop, his tearful silence turned into sobbing and then into inconsolable gasps.

The old man's arrogance immediately melted like candle wax and he took him in his weak, shivering arms.

"It was long ago Aman, forget it. Don't feel so bad. You had said sorry even then."
"No sir I mean it this time."

He clutched his teachers arms and said,

"Sir, I made a mess of my life after the incident. I did not care about anything. I became arrogant, careless and rude. I saw myself getting destroyed everyday but my anger did not let me save myself."

Yes indeed that must have happened. The old man had seen such people all his life. They regret for what happened but never change. It appears to be one such hopeless case. What a waste!

"And Sir I then became lethargic, oblivious and opposed to everything. I blamed you for everything that had happened and never tried to get up. Later I used you as an excuse for making my life miserable...until...until one day when I fell sick."

"What happened Aman?"
"I was suddenly afraid of things..."
"Why?"
"I suffered from flu and I became violent. Doctor said it was depression but it felt different. I got treatment for everything but my condition was growing weird and I suffered from terrible headache."

"What has happened to you Aman?" Suddenly the old man got nervous and concerned with his situation. After all he was his student once and he did like his hard work while in school even when he had only once managed to beat Shekhar.

"When everything failed, my parents took me to tantrics to get rid of the evil spirits from me but even then things did not improve. At last my uncle forced us to try at AIIMS and give one more chance to doctors. They admitted me for 3 weeks. They tell me I am no good sir. I have got a disease called rabies sir. They tell me I will die like a dog. May be I deserve it sir." The last sentence pinched Mr. Neeraj so hard that he drowned in guilt of the pride he felt earlier. How wicked human mind could be? How cruel life could be? He looks like such a fine young man and is about to die! Why? Why it has to be so?

"Sir I wanted to say sorry for everything I did. I could not have died with so much guilt in me." The English teacher started crying.

"Sir I just came to confess that I always felt bad for what I did but still blamed you all my life. Only when I saw my end did I realize that I had no time to blame and whatever life I had, I wasted it all...But I feel better now. I feel lighter now sir. I am thankful you did not shrug me off from the door."
"No son I did you wrong. You don't have to be sorry for anything."

The old man could not stop his tears. Even when it was his student who needed courage for his very last days, he could not offer him even that. He tried to be strong to tell him that he did not hate him so much, that he loved him in school, that sometimes he really wished that the unfortunate wrestle would not have happened, that he sometimes even thought about him and wished that he do good in life... But it all seemed to be futile now. It seemed to be too late.

And the thought of it broke him even more. He could not help himself over it as he escorted Aman to his father who had come to pick him up. Teary eyed, he wished Aman peace for the rest of the days.

The English teacher was the last person Aman had to meet. Everyone he met- his friends, relatives, chai walah, people who did not know him, cried. But he did not expect the old man to be so weak too. He always seemed to be such a strong man in class. May be life and loneliness from separation had torn him apart.

2 months later Aman died a death of dog, chained to the hospital bed, hallucinating, partially paralysed, salivating and afraid of everything. He had lost himself; he was no more a human being. The disease had completely consumed him. Life did not spare him, neither did death. But at the very last moment, before dying, when he saw his teacher, his best friends, his parents around, his eyes did speak out loud; he really wished he had a better life.

The Magical Drink

2011-06-08T11:47:00.000-07:00

One day the king and queen of Satpura province decided to go for hunting. Early in the morning they left towards jungle with artillery weapons, food, water and a group of ten soldiers.

A long time passed but they did not find any animal in the jungle. It disappointed the king and the queen. So after lunch they decided to go a little further but asked the soldiers to stay there and wait for them until they return.

As they moved ahead the jungle got darker and darker. The queen spotted a deer wandering behind the bushes. They started following it carefully watching their path from stepping over snake or scorpions. Near a small pond amid big sal trees the deer stopped to drink water, when the king decided to hunt him. As he shot the arrow the deer turned into a big evil ghost who angrily turned towards the king,

“You have enraged me. Now I’ll eat you both.”

Stories of a ghost in the jungles of Satpura were known from quite a long time. He had tricked and killed many innocent people before also. So the king decided to fight with him. The brave king, with his bows and arrows wounded the ghost but before running away he sneezed on the king and queen and due to his poisonous saliva they fell sick.

They returned to the kingdom weak and tired. Day by day their condition worsened. All the doctors of the kingdom were summoned but none could treat them and the wounded angry ghost had started to haunt and target the villagers near the jungle.

Worried, the king called his guru for help. The Guru said,

“In the Himalayan mountains lives a Dadi, she knows many magical drinks that could treat the king and queen.”

So the king and the queen went to the Himalayas and asked Dadi for help. Dadi asked the king to tell the whole incident, the colour and smell of the poisonous saliva and about the sickness. Then she thought for a while and said,

“I have one magical drink that can treat you both.”

She went into the kitchen and brought back a white drink. She asked the king and queen to stay there in her hut and drink it every day to get well soon. After a week the king and queen regained their strength. To express his gratitude, the king brought fruits for her, repaired her hut and promised to visit and take care of her. With her blessings they returned to the Satpura kingdom.

Next day the king chased and captured the ghost haunting the villagers and killed him with his strength. He went back to thank Dadi and praised the white drink which later came to be known as milk.

She Is Alone

2011-06-01T14:29:00.000-07:00

The house to the west of Saket Garden was hardly ever lively. Tainted paint and texture of water leakage on the walls of building resembled to the poorly managed college hostels. Its second floor was one of those places which always seem to be deserted. No one lives and no one cares. Windows remained closed, no one ever came to its balcony and there was never a sound. But when you look at it, a tinge of curiosity prevails on your face. No one likes emptiness; no one has to be so lonely. Not even this floor. The curiosity to know was eating Sohit up, day and night, for the past one month. Since he had shifted to the building across the road he could not ignore it.

Once he invited his local friend Shanu and asked her about it but she did not seem to care either. It must be one of those unoccupied apartments in the area, she said. This did not answer Sohit's questions at all. But did he know the questions himself? He had an increasingly growing urge to discover something about it. The feeling was almost burning him from inside. He has to find out about it on his own or his thoughts will eat him alive. For some reason he was suspicious and fearful of what he may find. So he decided to make paper chits of the days from Monday to Sunday and then lift one randomly. Thursday it came and that was it! He left the consequences to fate.

On Thursday morning it rained so he postponed his quest till evening. He had waited weeks for this day and not being able to go there proved to be terribly unsettling. He could not finish his lunch. He almost felt choked inside. The unknown fear was driving him crazy. Was there something that was trying to stop him from going? Is it really empty? Is it a ghost house? Is there someone dead inside? Not able to contain the puzzling outbursts, he left for the building in the afternoon itself. The door to the apartment was closed. He raised his hand and as he was about to knock, he stopped and decided against it. He went up and knocked on the apartment on the third floor. No one answered. He went down and knocked on the apartment on ground floor. To add to his fears, no one answered there either. He returned to his room as soon as he could.

That night, the lights on the second floor were lit. The windows still remained closed. There was no vehicle in the parking of the building. Sohit had asked his retail shop person about the building and he had said that everyone went home on vacations. He avoided asking anything particular to the second floor. He did not really care about the rest of the people living there. Something had got him obsessed with that particular floor only. Having no clue what to do, he did not dare to go there again.

One week later a boy came to his apartment and said that someone has asked for him from across the building. It was evening, Sohit turned towards the building and the lights only on second floor were lit. The day has come he said. He let the boy go and went towards the building as calmly as he could. As he started climbing the stairs, his steps turned heavy, his breath began to burden. He stopped for a while to let his heartbeats get normal but heard someone coming up so continued to climb thinking that he would wait for a few minutes outside the apartment. When he reached the second floor, the door was open. He was surprised but had no choice except to carry on with his fears. Trembling, as he entered from the door, he felt like submitting himself in the hands of doom. He was taken aback with what he saw! The room was filled with photographs of French girls, Switzerland, London, ocean line, forests and portraits. When no one came for a while he thought of stepping outside and waiting there but spent a few more minutes looking over pictures and the expensive decoration in the room. As he turned back to move out, he almost screamed! A girl was standing right behind him.

“Hi!” she said.
“Hi!” he was still trying to catch his breath.

"I was alone and was thinking of inviting someone then this boy told me that you are new in the vicinity. So..."

Sohit stopped listening. "But that happens only in movies!" he said to himself. He was still trying to feel normal

"It’s so kind of you to do that. Thanks!" he said.
“Would you like to give me company for some time? I was waiting for my friends but they are all busy and I don’t like to be lonely. I would appreciate if you could stay for a while. Is that okay with you?” she said in her soft persuasive tone.

“Sure. I was lonely as well.” Sohit was having the best day of his life. A beautiful girl was willing to spend the evening with him. What more could he ask?

"Well that’s just great! I am a photographer…” She quickly interrupted herself and said “Oh! Let’s talk over coffee."

She led him to her drawing room which looked more like a bed room and went to make some coffee.

"Is this happening for real?" “First day and she is showing me her bedroom.” Sohit thought.
Wild imaginations filled his head. He was stupid to have kept himself afraid and away when such a sexy and friendly girl was living right in front of his building. The throwing of chits made him feel even more stupid. He carefully looked at the pictures, music collection, curtains, yellow lights that glowed behind the windows and...

She came and immediately started talking.
"So I had this idea of capturing people's life in fragments, you know? They would be like real puzzles."

Then she showed him the lives of the people she had captured. Not everything seemed to be related. Some photographs were particularly disturbing, others simply hilarious.

"The idea is quite intriguing. I never saw things this way."

"Exactly! Do you like to see it this way?"

"I am not sure." Sohit could not make out most of what she was talking and wasn't sure how she was taking him. Frankly speaking he never had an intellectual sort of conversation with a girl before. And this seemed to be going too tangled to make a meaning out of it. This was her bed room and she certainly has called him for some reason but to talk about her hobbies.

She probably read his mind and said, "Tell me something weird about you."

That is the way it outta go boy! Sohit was in the ninth cloud of wildest imaginations.

"Well, I like thinking about people I have never met, never seen and never heard of." Fitted perfectly to the present case he thought proudly.

"And what about people you have met?"
For the first time in life, he was having a naughty feeling about how this might end. He was behaving quite unlike himself he secretly accepted.

Their conversation slowly progressed and became quite intimate. There was nothing they did not talk about dating, love, one night stands, and occasional pleasures. Amongst all love was their most hated topic and neither talked much about it. Both agreed that it is just a concept and one should only believe in living in the present moment.

They had dinner together at a fine restaurant near the garden and on the way back she moved slowly. Sohit had heard of people meeting in clubs and discs, who end up on beds. He believed them to be mere stories but now he was expecting to be part of one of those stories. As they reached near her building, she turned towards him and said good bye. Well this was not what Sohit expected to happen all of a sudden and he had to resist all his temptation to ask for some more time. It wasn't a good idea to be all demanding and desperate on the very first day you meet someone. So he also waved her good night. “She is gonna be around”, he said to himself and grinned.

Returning to his apartment, he was the happiest man alive on the planet. He could scream, run madly, sing songs, say anything to anyone, jump; he even thought he could fly if he let go from the top of building. His happiness had more signs of desperation than satisfaction.

“What was her name?” he suddenly asked himself. “Stupid, stupid, stupid!” he refrained and cursed on his stupidity. He stood there for a while thinking about going back to her. It makes perfect sense to go back saying he forgot to ask her name. “That doesn’t sound like a pretext.” he made himself believe. But then he continued moving. May be she didn’t tell the name on purpose. May be she wants him to return to her at night. He enjoyed the thought of it, as he kept moving to his apartment.

On his way up, there were marks of footsteps on the stairs. Probably people had come to meet him. May be Shanu was here to leave some message. When he reached on his floor open lock was hanging on the door. God, he was so stupid to even forget locking the door properly! When he entered from the door he was shocked by the view. His apartment had been robbed and thrashed! There were just papers and broken pieces of furniture all over the place. What should he do now? For a moment he even felt that it would be an opportunity to go to the girl next building and ask her to let him stay there tonight. He felt stupid, poor, robbed but secretly proud as well. Anyways he needed some help to deal with the situation and immediately went to the girl’s apartment.

Having a sorrowful and helpless face, he reached to the second floor of the next building. The door was still open. She was indeed expecting him. He thought about how he would tell her about robbery, ask her for help, she might say it happened because of her which he would deny, probably will go to police station with her for reporting the theft and then stay at her apartment at night. He entered confidently, with mixed feelings, and as he did,

“Damn!”

There was not a piece of belonging left in the apartment!
She was alone and she had robbed them both!

“What was her name again?” he said and kicked himself as hardly as he could.

Arguments: Story of Two Mice

2011-05-29T13:35:00.000-07:00

In the jungle, one day two rats were fighting over their supremacy.

Lui: “One day a cat was after me, I turned around and warned her not to try to catch me but she did not abide by. I held her ears stretched and banged my slap on her face. She did not wake up for a week.”
Dui: “That is nothing. One day I challenged a cat to catch me but she refused so I challenged her ten friends to catch me but they refused. On the night when I was sleeping they captured me and tied me on the tree. While they beat me up all day and night long, I was yawning. After they were tired I gently flexed my muscles, the tree fell on them and I walked away.”

Lui: “Oh that is nothing! One day my mother was captured by pirates and they took her far in the middle of ocean. I sprinted on the water reached their ship and made a hole at the bottom. The ship sank; I took my mother and swam back.”

Dui: “Are you proud of that!? The pirates once held all of my family including me and put us in their jail on the ship. A thunderstorm struck the ship and it started drowning. The pirates could not do anything so I broke the jail and challenged the thunderstorm. Angry thunder storm struck me with lightening, I jumped on the sea and I heated up so much from the striking lightening that the sea dried. Later, the pirates apologized and carried us back to the jungle.”

Lui: “Once a kite flew over my house and when I came out he captured me with his claws and took me away. Then he threw me to his Kite boss for food. Kite boss asked me “Are you afraid?” I laughed at him. He said “Why are you laughing?” I laughed loudly. He said “Aren’t you afraid of dying?” I held his beak, tied it with a rope; straightened his wings with sticks and flew the world using him as glider. When the Kite boss begged for forgiveness I landed on my house and set him free. He now scavenges my enemies.”

Dui got afraid but he could not turn his back so he punched again.

Dui: “Once a Kite abducted me and he threw me to his Kite boss. When I told them I was Dui both of them escaped. Next morning I took a bow and arrows and shoot both of them down.”

Lui got irritated. His every story was thrashed by the story of Dui. Frustrated he started yelling on Dui that he is a liar, his stories are rubbish they started fighting. Listening to the noise other rats gathered around them, enjoying the show. While they were wrestling, punching on faces breaking each other’s tooth, suddenly they heard the ground go “Thump! Thump! Thump!” Lui saw to his left and found all the rats stamped on the ground then Dui saw it to his right then both of them looked up and saw giant elephants were passing by. They saw a foot rising and coming over them. “Thump!” they escaped. “Thump!” they escaped again. “Thump! Thump! Thump!” The group of elephants ran all over. When they had passed, Lui-Dui stood together and found the crushing foots buried everyone and everything around them. They looked towards each other thinking about their arguments earlier, grinned with their broken teeth and holding each other, returned back to their homes.

Bird without beak

2011-05-01T10:55:00.000-07:00

Morning whispered its noise in the ears of the jungle, yawning and curling the living woke up.Flexing their limbs and stretching the faces their eyes slowly welcomed the sunlight. In no time the whispered noise turned to a loud continuous chatter.

A bird flew from her nest, flapping and soaring and gliding in the air moving up and down, occasionally facing the whoosh of the breeze coming from the jungle Peech. Looking for the breakfast, she hovered and alighted on the huts and houses in the nearby village Sat-Tal. Generous people of the village loved the birds and would put seeds, rice and food leftovers from last night in front of their houses. Large groups of birds would come every morning and afternoon in the village to fill their belly. They would fight amongst themselves for the tastiest food, feed their offsprings and would carry boiled and soaked food to their children in the nests. Villagers would love watching and talking about them. Our bird, Chiki was also one of the naughty ones from the groups. But one day a gang of hunters came to the jungle Peech and everything changed for her.

It was mating season for the birds when Chiki fell in love with Choker and conceived children. They were very happy and it was the first time Chiki would become a mother. Every morning Choker would get ready to bring food for Chiki but she would insist and go along with him. Chiki could not leave him alone, so madly she was in love with him. Other birds were jealous of Chiki's love for Choker. It was sometime in the spring when new leaves and buds were rejoicing their birth on the plants and flowers were blossoming when Chiki gave birth to three cute little birds. The newborns were very noisy and demanding, they would cry for food all day and Chiki-Choker would make hundreds of trips to the village to bring enough food for them. The loved their babies.

One day a gang of hunters visited the jungle as tourists. They came with the intention of hunting rabbits and had guns with them. One of the shooters saw a rabbit and started following him. After trailing for a while the rabbit sensed it being followed and instead of running on ground climbed on the tree. The shooter prepared! He sat down quietly and set his target. As he shot the rabbit escaped, the bullet skipped to the next tree and hit Chiki. Swirling in the air by the impact Chiki fell on the ground.

When Chiki opened her eyes all the birds had gathered. There was a lot of noise, some who witnessed the incident were telling others, some cursing the hunters, some felt viciously happy and others just joined the crowd. No one was really bothered about her. Chiki closed her eyes again and the image of her babies appeared in her mind and suddenly she could hear them chirruping and crying for food. Anxious Chiki stood up and saw Choker sitting by the nest, sad with tears. She flew to him and cuddled near the neck. As she did the pain from the beak gripped her and made her restless.

Next morning Choker went to bring food to the babies, Chiki was weak and in too much pain to fly. Choker made hundreds of trips to the village but the babies were still hungry and so was Chiki. Choker did not know what to do. When he asked other birds to help they advised him to leave Chiki and that she was useless anyways now. Others also made fun of the broken beak. Slowly the lower beak also gave away from the crack obtained by the impact of bullet and this left Choker completely confused and one night he slipped away quietly.

Finding herself alone with kids in the morning, Chiki knew he had left. She flew to the village for food but with broken beak could not carry much and the rice and seeds would fall. Tirelessly she tried all day but could not bring enough even for one baby. Faced upon by such a situation she had decided that she would try to save the healthiest baby but even that did not seem possible. This broke her completely.

It had rained last night in the jungle and the nest broke due to the thunderstorm. Chiki spent all night keeping the babies safe and since dawn repaired the nest. It was tough for her. Without enough food, help and hope she was getting weak and was worried about the babies who were getting weaker day by day and would not fight and cry much anymore.

She went to get food from the village. Tired she could hardly fly had become very slow. She rested in the village for a while. When she returned one of her babies was not very well. Worried she fed him and cuddled but the baby did not survive long. It was the cold from the last night's rain and starvation that had suffered. Tears started to pour from the Chiki's eyes she could not contain the fear of future anymore but she gathered all her courage and brought food for the two babies. But they did not survive long either. Within 2 days of the rain they fell sick and died. Chiki was left alone, weak, withered and hungry. She could not even feed herself with the broken beak. Slowly she was also dying in hunger and she decided to die.

She dragged herself to the near pond where she thought she would drown and die. Probably some crocodile or other animal would eat her. She went to the pond and looked in it. She could hardly identify herself. As she closed her eyes the younger image appeared in her mind but as she opened the withered image appeared again. Chiki closed her eyes again. She wanted to remember how young and happy she was before she dies. And with that image in her mind she jumped in the pond.

As she drowned into the pond floor something unusual happened and a small fish got caught between her beaks which clutched the fish like jaws. She could not even die peacefully. Angrily she tried to get rid of the fish and cuts it and eats the fish! She came out of the pond and dipped her beak again in the water and another fish was clutched. Dipped again and another fish and another. Other birds gathered to see what was happening and suddenly the new ability of broken beaks to catch fish took all birds by surprise. Happy, Chiki started running around, jumping, fluttering, flapping and screaming. Soon she became famous in the jungle as miracle bird and would help the weak birds by bringing them fish.

Even when she thought everything was lost she found that not all was gone. She just did not know what there was!

Product of the unknown

2010-12-23T11:20:00.000-08:00

I am a child of the unknown; only names attached. I don’t belong with my family; I don’t belong with my friends. I am the inhabitant of the middle world-a mob of confused, seeking and searching masses.

My world exists in silence, in peace, in space, in this gap that exists between me and you. There is something strange in my stare all the time. Its just a flicker of eyelashes that sometimes wakes me up to existence of the seemingly crowded realistic world. The sporadic movement of my breaths are witness to how restless my soul is.

People travel in my mind and they in their capacity try to reorient my thoughts. Sometimes it’s like a compulsive attraction that tends to shift frames in mind to unreal states of personal existence. Thought simulation, entity destruction, image creation and personality recreation are the cycles i go through over and over until there is no identification left and then i try to track back to my existence.

Slowly as the intense thoughts fade and theories never concluded to reality end, i re emerge as another being, being the product of the unknown.

Uncle Perd

2010-10-28T06:50:00.000-07:00

In the hamlet of Lusania lived an uncle, uncle Perd.
He sat under the roof made up of banyan bower,
And he went to the river for shower.
In the evenings he would wander in the woods,
And in dawn would stroll in his boots.
Nobody knew why uncle Perd was so weird.
Nobody knew reason to his obsession with children, birds and beard.
Neither did uncle Perd.
But he could feel when he was near,
He had felt it when he was right there.
But what fascinated children of Lusania most was his beard.
Uncle Perd grew long, curly, white beard,
Which grew miles every year.
Uncle Perd loved to wash it, trim and take care.
Uncle Perd didn't know that he once upon a time was a seer.

One evening when he was under the Banyan tree,
Peter was wandering there free.
He asked Peter to tell him what he feels about him,
Peter said “I think you are a tree.”
Something dawned upon Uncle Perd that day,
He had no more words to say.
He just smiled wide and weird,
And would dance in air floating his beard
And one day Uncle Perd just disappeared!
They searched every house, they searched every route,
But of Uncle Perd they had no clue.
And one evening when Peter sat to think,
Something in his mind started to blink!
He turned to the woods; he went in there to see
He found Uncle Perd with beard turned into a banyan tree!

Missing You!

2010-10-24T08:56:00.000-07:00

In the summer of 2003 Pratima decided to spend the vacations in her paternal village. She had not visited it in quite a long time and was quite excited about it and took her six years old son, Betu, along. The journey to Indian villages are tiring ones. Crumbled roads, poor transportation, crowded buses, chattering people and to make things worse there is always some kid crying in the nearest seat. It takes spirits to reach there!

Somehow they reached the place and soon as they had stepped a few yards in, they found a very rare and amazing thing-this place had not lost its sanctity of being a traditional Indian village. Pictures of wheat fields, mango trees, sparrows, swans, parrots, kids running after ice cream wala, tattered huts, mud walls, groups of old men and women sitting and gossiping under trees...all surrounded them. It was a
blessing to be there, away from the noise of machines, away from fake pretensions and computer lives, away from the blind run after money, away from the scarcities and tensions of life, in just a perfect dream world. They walked through the path made of stones, mud and rubble to reach home where grandmother was waiting with water to sprinkle around and get rid of any evil-eye that might have caught.

Days started to pass and Betu free from the clutches of mother made his own friends and gang. Pratima also lost in the feeling of the place and meeting relatives forgot to instruct her son about the behaviour and manners lesson. One day she was cooking meal with grandmother in the kitchen. When she came out she found her son sitting on the floor which was made of slurry of cow dung and was staining the clothes. She had not met Betu properly for the last few days and seeing him in this manner made her angry. Enraged she started scolding him and asked to find a better place to sit and not soil the clothes. Hurt and in tears the son left. Pratima felt worse, coming to the new place had took her attention off the child and when he was there only thing she could do was to scold him because she was missing him so much! She sat there thinking and carrying on with the work.

After an hour Betu returned and said,
"Mother! I have found the better place"
Surprised the mother thought that may be he has found some garden nearby or place under some tree and other things that a child's mind could conceive of and asked, "Where?"
"Would you let me be there?"
"Yes my son but where is it?"
Suddenly Betu cornered all the things,work scattered around his mother and sat on her lap saying, "Mother i looked everywhere but i did not find a place dearer than this."
Amazed by the act of child the mother did not know what so say, she hugged him tightly and said "I missed you!"

When i heard this story from my sister i was awestruck not only because how innocent, candid and uncluttered a child's mind is but also because what it taught me.
We are all finding our better places but we are all sitting elsewhere soiling our clothes. But the best place of everyone is known in one's heart, its just a little courage we need to ask it to ourselves and confront it with uncluttered candid mind.
And your best place...it's always missing you!

The Death of Raman

2010-02-19T11:17:00.000-08:00

Go sometime to the southern parts of Chhattisgarh to spend a month in the tribal villages and memories of ancient existence. It’s a place kept from rest of the world with its heritage, its culture and its way of living, intact. Not intruded with technology, not intruded with education, and not revolutionised by the hype of Shining India, deep in the jungles of Bastar you will get to hear stories that sound mysterious and sometimes terrifying. Some traditions and rituals of this world are still dark and incomprehensible. This story is about a police officer who was well educated, rational and denied the existence of witch doctor of Fountainhead but his fate told him otherwise.

It was the night of winters and colonies in Kanker did not have any street lights. Far as you can see, it was all dark and grim with noise resembling the hollowness and disturbing sound of wild forest after it had rained at night. Raman was returning to his government quarter. Dealing with naxalite problems, kidnapping, mass uprising and political conflicts...it was just another day for him to retire and forget about all the worries and hope that tomorrow will be somewhat better. Thinking of all sorts of things he walked past a farmland where a he saw something burning in the middle of trees and a women sitting by the fire. Often he had heard the incidents of black magic in the area but he didn’t believe in it. He looked to towards it again but then moved on.

He reached his quarter, of which the ceiling was very high and even a little sound would echo like in a giant empty hall. Even today in Chhattisgarh you can find houses with big windows, high roof and fans having a wingspan of a mini-helicopter, hanging from the girders. Raman went to his bed room to change and prepare for dinner. From the window he saw the flames flickering in the distance illuminating the face of the women surrounded by the trees like a hovel. Something intrigued him but ignoring the unknown was the best thing to do at a place like this.
Kamla Bai, the maid, knocked on the door at 9 pm to prepare the dinner and brought fresh vegetables and fruits. Raman was unmarried and so he had hired the maid to do all the groceries, laundry, cooking etc. She would come twice a day to work and often talk about the local problems, incidents and mindset of people in the area. It helped Raman to understand the place and carry out his operations accordingly when tackling a problem. At 10 pm Kamla Bai left and Raman was left alone with a black and white television broadcasting DD Madhya Pradesh. Back then Chhattisgarh was a part of the parent state. After spending an hour on the tv serials Raman switched off the lights left to bed but as he reached there the view from the window baffled him! He saw the flames rising high up in the air and the women moving around the fire doing something with the colors in her hand.

Superstitions are widespread in Chhattisgarh and sometimes the customs are so eccentric, it would be hard to believe that its 21st century. Raman had seen such things happen around since he came here two years back but didn’t interfere. Today he felt strange and angry about the ignorance of the people. He decided to teach this women a lesson. He took his lathi and torch and walked up to the place. The women with long open hair was sitting by the flames refraining in some language and concentrating on the fire and then on the sky. Raman kept watching for a few minutes, the women had noticed his presence but did not react. This made him even more angry and started to yell on her, came to her and threw away all the wood, colors and clothes she had kept and was burning. But she did not react. In rage Raman pushed her away and extinguished the fire and suddenly it turned all dark. Raman switched the torch on and saw the women staring on him. In a loud, wild sound she asked him to leave her then and there.
On listening to her, Raman sensed the place had something grave and now he felt a little scared when he saw the look on the woman’s face and realized he was all alone. But he didn’t show his fear, and warned the women to never come again and returned.

For hours into the mid-night he couldn’t sleep. He was afraid that something might happen tonight. He was surrounded in the land full of haunting stories of black magic. What if they are all true? The night turned a nightmare for him. He thought he should not have gone there or at least should have called his neighbours with him. They have been living here for quite a while and would have stopped him. Frightened and panicked in his big quarter, alone, he kept thinking on and on...
It was 3 am. Raman was asleep but moving restlessly on his bed. Probably a dream. He started feeling his lungs suffocated. The chest was not expanding to let them take in any air. It felt like one has been locked in a small box with no windows. He started sweating, gasping and puffing for breaths. Suddenly he felt like a monolithic rock has been put up on his chest. As he opened his eyes he screamed in shock! The old women was sitting on him looking into his eyes. His body was stiff like a sculpture and not a thing would move. He kept screeching and screaming but no one would listen. Abruptly the women stood up and ran out of the door.
Afraid, Raman ran to the next door neighbour Ashish but couldn’t speak. He was still trying to breathe. Soon, the whole colony gathered listening to the screams at night. Raman was running after one person to another but no one could help him. They tried to pump his chest, they tried to breathe him through mouth but nothing would work and helpless Raman would look into the blank eyes begging for help. For ten minutes he continued to suffer in pain and smothering and suddenly he stood still and if hanging from strings. In seconds he suffered a massive heart attack and died on spot!

Nobody knows what actually had happened on the last night of Ramans life. But people had seen him go to the women and the women escaping from his room. For years such incidents had happened, people had seen their neighbours die like Raman. For them it was not new but still, the last night of every life that was taken in front of their eyes kept revealing the darkest secrets of the place. The black still exists wide and deep in the thoughts it makes one shiver.

P.S. I have lived in Chhattisgarh for 6 years and experiences there form my childhood memories.

The Story Of A Snail

2010-02-17T11:00:00.000-08:00

Once upon a time in the jungle Cilaze, there lived a family of snails. They called themselves The Slorers. They were incredibly slow but were the wisest of all. In the world of snails, they were renowned for being adventurers and dreamers. When no one could even dare to dream of racing with turtles, Slorers invented skates to outperform them. The elder in their family would teach the younger generation of snails, their skills, so as to pass wisdom and knowledge across Cilaze.

One day while taking a morning walk by the garden, Bate-the elder Slorer, saw Kip-the child snail from the family of Dumnails sitting alone. He was sad and weeping. When asked by Bate, Kip said that last night he had a dream. Like a butterfly, he grew wings and flew up in the sky. From there he saw Cliaze. He saw the waterfalls, the green pastures, the jungles, the mountain and it was beautiful! Like one can only dream of! But when he woke up, he didn’t find his wings and felt sad. He asked his mom and she told once great grand Dumnail also had the same dream and so he tried to climb the tallest tree in the forest to know how it looks like from the sky but before he could reach the top, a hungry hawk ate him. Now he knows he would never know how it looks like from the sky and will soon forget the dream as well. Even if he tries to climb the tree again and hungry hawk does not eat him, he will probably never reach the top and die on the way itself. This made him cry.

Wise Bate had never faced a situation like this but he could not afford to break the heart of young Kip. So he thought for a while and said to him that if he could dream that he can see from the sky then he will but he has to believe in his dream. Then Kip promised that he will believe in his dream and returned happily.

It was on his way back, Bate was thinking all the while what he can do for Kip. All of a sudden he heard elephant Zeus coming his way. Heard it? Yes! The whole jungle shivered from pounding and thumping footsteps of Zeus and earth would sound like drums. When he came close, Bate greeted him but he did not respond. Zeus was known for being arrogant because he was powerful and no one dared to disrespect or challenge him. Even lions were afraid! Bate called him again loudly this time. Zeus turned towards him and said that he does not talk to such puny creatures. But Bate convinced him that it was important and told him the story of Kip. Zeus felt really sad for the child and agreed to help and they started thinking. But even after trying long and hard they couldn’t figure out any way to help Kip realize his dream. Bate felt sad but kept mulling over. When they were about to give up broken leaves and branches started to fall over them. In amazement they turned their heads up and there it was the Great Grand Giraffe Eddie chewing the tallest trees with his head on the top of the jungle! Bate and Zeus looked at each other and beamed in joy. On an impulse of thought they knew what had to be done. Zeus whistled to Eddie and told him the plan.

Next morning, Bate knocked upon the Dumnails house. The Kip came out happily and told him how he spent all night dreaming like he told him to. Bate told him that he has brought him a surprise and from behind came Zeus and Eddie. But little Kip did not understand what was happening. Suddenly, Eddie lowered his neck, Zeus smiled and put young snail and Bate on his head and then Eddie lifted them up, high in the sky from where they could see the waterfalls, the pastures, the jungle, and the mountains, all so beautiful like one can only dream of! Kip cuddled wise Bate and tears started rolling down his eyes. His dream has come true!
“Just believe son, just believe!” Elder Slorer whispered.

P.S. The story has been selected for filming a three and half minute animation movie which will be released by the end of May 2010

The Gift

2010-02-17T10:19:00.000-08:00

Giant cherry rose from the east and slowly turned orange! Dawn bathed the earth with its glow. And like a fearless robber, sunbeams streamed, from the window panes, into the room and robbed her of laziness from the last night. May felt her arm muscles stretching the warmth in the blood, chasing the cold gathered of sleep away. She opened her eyes smiled a song in the world and rose from the bed. Morning it is!
As she opened the door, her dog Kip came running for an early frolic, as if he was waiting the whole night just for that. Then she greeted her mother and set herself up for the daily chores.

May made beautiful paintings. The whole world knew her for the artist she was. She emblazoned the black and white sketches with such perfection and exquisiteness, it seemed that universe of colours existed to be variegated just by her. Every night she would take the brushes and colourful pigments to imbue the dead sheets with the vibrant life she was made of.

After the breakfast, she took a look at the paintings from last night, gave a thought or two to some and then walked up to her school. But she was alone as no classmates would gossip with her or share their jokes nor would any parents return her greetings or allow their children to befriend her. The whole town of Blume was jealous of May and she could not understand why? Once, in order to make friends she made portraits of all the children in the town and gave them as presents, still nobody came with her. She asked her mother about it and she said that they are just jealous of how beautiful, sweet and gifted she is. But could a child’s mind comprehend such idiotic thinking of human psyche? She was too innocent to believe her mother but did wonder how she really looked like but there were no mirrors back then, the pond in Blume was too dirty to look at anything and no one would draw her.

So every evening she would watch the neighbourhood children play in the fields while she would sit alone with Kip. No one would invite her, nor take in their groups. At first, she did not care but as days passed, slowly she turned sad and secluded. Even Kip felt estranged because she would not play with him anymore. And finally it all appeared in her paintings as they turned dull and dingy. Every evening she would hope that tomorrow will be a different day full of friends and joy.

It was the night of meteorite falls when her mother seeing her sad said “Pray it to the falling stars and they shall answer your wishes.” May looked at the sky, closed her eyes and with her heart she prayed to those millions of stars. She felt the stars are falling as if to bring a boon, falling as if to revitalise the world, falling as if to liven up every life and she remembered them all night. She felt that something is about to happen, something is about to change and she slept a deep peaceful slumber.

When she woke up there by her side was a gift. The door was locked from inside so she knew mother could not have put it. She was surprised! As she turned on top of it was written,
“Be yours,
whatever you asked,
whatever you dreamed of,
whatever you whispered to the stars,
the stars shall bring you!”

Suddenly she felt a great deal of excitement. She unwrapped the box as quickly as she could. Her heart was pounding with the speed of a cheetah. She wondered whether there would be magic, she wondered whether there would be friends, she wondered whether there would be happiness, her horse of imagination galloped free in the vast fields of dreams and hopes. She opened it, took out the gift and there it was looking onto her, the most beautiful girl in the whole world, smiling in amazement, filled with joy, animated with life. It was a mirror!

Suddenly she knew why the whole world was jealous of her. Suddenly she knew that her mother was right. She opened the door to greet the most miraculous dawn in her life. Kip sensed it and ran into her for he knew she was happy and he wanted his May back. She opened her arms wide for the hug but as Kip jumped on her, she lost the hold of the gift and the mirror fell onto ground and broke into millions of pieces. And all the joy of May turned into tears! In anger she pushed Kip away, yelled at him, went into her room and slammed the door. She could not believe her dream was broken so soon and started to cry.

After she had calmed down, Kip came and started to bark and pull her out of the room. She knew it was not his mistake and so playfully caressed him and when she came out of the room, she couldn’t believe her eyes. The broken pieces were growing big and right before her they all turned into mirrors and the whole house began to glow in the town of Blume. In amazement all the people came running. They had never seen a thing like that and all wanted to have one. May took all the mirrors and gave it to every child in Blume and they looked into it how beautiful they were.

Everything changed for May and they all became her friends for such a wonderful gift. For the first time everyone wanted to take May in their group and in the evening she played with them until she was empty of every ounce of energy she had.
At night she looked at the sky and thanked the stars. She took out the gift again to look at her smiling face and felt something in its back. When she turned the gift and on the back it was etched,
“May every kid know how beautiful they are!
May every child realise, the real gift!”
And May understood it all!

How I Met Haseen!

2009-08-14T17:41:00.000-07:00

Month of May is when the harsh cruel summer of Delhi starts unveiling its true colours. Trees don't talk, birds don't fly, squirrels don't dance and men run around to find cover from the fireball. All you can do is to look up helplessly at the glaring white sky and pray the God of rain to bless with some shower. But God likes to play games! It would tease for a little while, sprinkle for few minutes and just when, with the humming of clouds, the hopes will blossom in heart, you find it's all gone! In a blink of the eye every single drop of rain vaporises from the thirsty crust leaving so much anger and humidity behind.

I hate anger and run away from it as far as I can. This time I decided to escape to Home. Now, over the years, bizarre incidents have happened and continue to happen in my train journeys. Sometimes I meet old friends and find out that they have become hippies, sometimes I meet soldiers from Kargil war with breathtaking stories almost choking you with action, excitement, emotion, drama and post war trauma, sometimes there is a criminal in chains travelling by my side with weird habits of praying Goddess Durga and chanting mantras, sometimes I find myself alone with a girl in the compartment and we end up journey without even knowing names and sometimes even people have got shot! So you can imagine that in these journeys I had met all types of people you can possibly hope but then I met someone I would not have thought of even in my dreams. I met Haseen!

Now like every other, well cultured, well mannered mama's boy in our country, I avoid a direct stare at the girls. But then they say that sometimes angels descend from heaven! My eyes were unshakably fixed on her and suddenly I realized that everyone else was staring back at me. I was embarrassed but unusually the train was not crowded and I was ashamed less for my act. But gosh! Could I have helped! Had I ever seen anyone as calm, serene and graceful as her! Apparently I can find my peace even in the most turbulent emotional chaos. And I did as soon as the train started to loco mote. Unlike the still stagnant summer, now the trees started to run, poles approached, rivers passed, bridges howled and just as we ran past the Delhi border, birds started to fly. In the world outside the window there are enough wonders for my amusement. But then darkness comes and everything covers under the night leaving just trail of yellow light bulbs flashing in the distant villages and ghettos. She was sitting opposite me in the long lower berth and occasionally my eyes met hers and I always found her smiling. For some time I thought she's smiling at me and I smiled back. But soon I realized that she is not a sadistic pessimist moron like me but a happy in life person.

The good thing about train to Rewa is that people do not talk much and as the train starts to sway them they start feeling sleepy. Ten minutes into the journey and many of them would already be dozing. And the bad thing is that the nocturnal animals have to suffer all night in darkness. Thank God I wasn't the only nocturnal creature this time.

After the clock ticked 11:00 pm, the rest of the world fell asleep I grew more and more uncomfortable. I just wanted to talk to her. Sitting opposite me in yellow kurta and jeans, her curls playing around with the wind, her sparkling eyes gazing in the infinite sky may be shooting some stars and her love at first sight smile; maybe she was singing some song. I was wandering in dark narrow alleys of thoughts to come up with something to talk. When I had given up, she opened her blue VIP bag, took out a novel Erich Segal's Love Story and started reading. I had a whole bunch of novels and probability books in my bag, a diary and pen for emergency writing outburst and other stuff that could not be done with even in years of solemn pursuit for academic excellence but I acted like I am getting death bored. She smiled a feather smile and asked,
"Do you want something to read?"
I held my breath and made myself believe that it is actually her speaking and replied as calmly as I could have,
"If you have some other novel, it would be great!"

She opened her bag again and handed me over 'Godan', the classic work of Prem Chand. I had read the novel two years ago but still I looked at it in amazement as if it were some alien object and thanked her. Of course I was not interested in reading; I was rather looking for some trigger to shoot a conversation. Finally I kindled my entire dare and said
"What is this novel about? I have learnt that Prem Chand wrote about social issues but never got a chance to read his work."
She looked over me in amazement and said "Is it so? What a chance to know him then! It's one of the most amazing works in literature. You must read it. This book is about..."
Her voice was so sweet and mellow that I was soaking in every word from her lips. Even her eyes spoke when she talked. I was mesmerized again and then she smiled me back in the real conversation.
"Okay!" I smiled back. "What is your name?"
It seemed she got puzzled by the question but then she said softly
"Haseen! And yours?"
"Abhay" After a moment of silence I said "What is your book about? I really like the design on the cover page."
"Oh! It's a love story and that is all I can say right now. I am done almost 100 pages may be I will tell after finishing it." And she dived back in the pages of the Love Story.

I also started turning pages of Godan, remembering all the characters, Hori, Gobar, Dhania...The circumstances in which they were living, the poverty, the migration of Gobar to city etc. I remembered it all very well, so well crafted is the greatest creation by the legend! I waited patiently for her to finish the novel. After an hour she closed the book. By the emotion on her face I could tell that the novel moved her heart deeply.

I turned towards her "So how was the book?"
"It's amazing!"
"Any punch lines?"
"Yes, yes, love means never having to say sorry."
"Sounds great!"
And then when I would have least expected, she started telling me the story. I was looking in her eyes and she was looking into mine and she told and she told. I heard her like a disciple following the sermon by his Goddess. I can still remember the gentle emotional pitches, fragrance of love and sacredness in her voice. It was like a soothing music. It was like a beautiful morning. It was like the scent of the first rain! When she completed the story I could say nothing but,
"Wow!"
I was so moved that I decided after returning to Delhi reading Love Story would be the first thing I will do. I was floating in an endless ocean of emotions and the rising waves would quiver me within. She sensed that I needed a moment of silence and she respected it. But then, I fell in grave silence. Probably the way she told the story reminded me of things I had not spoken of in years. Would tonight be the night of change in my life? Would Haseen be the angel for me? I knew I was thinking way too far but what if I dare to do? What if I let myself loose? What if I finally free myself of the inherent notion of being a good person who would hurt not a fly? What if I tonight I decide to live life more beautifully even if it is at the cost of a little hurt? I knew I wasn't thinking too far. This is the thing I have been waiting for my entire twenty one years of life-to be finally free of myself created silence. Suddenly the train stopped. I had no more courage to look in her eyes again. I silently stood up and stepped down on the platform and stared at the sky. It was dark but I could see the clouds.
"God please don't rain tonight!" I whispered.

From the platform I bought Coke, some Haldiram's sweet and aloo bhujiya, mineral water and a chai. I boarded the train and as I reached my seat Haseen said,
"Abhay! Can you bring me a chai please?"
"Sure Haseen! And this is for you." I handed her over the sweets.
"Why?"
"Just..." Obviously I was fighting for words to fill in but she seemed to understand.
"Okay, thanks!"
I refused to take the money she offered and brought her another cup full of hot refreshing chai. Few minutes after the train started to move she opened the box of sweets and offered me. I also opened all the Coca Colas and bhujiyas and we ate it all happily, exchanging nothing but smiles and random chit chatting. She told me a joke or two which I later forgot. We revealed our business in studies and future plans in brief. She was awed when I told her that I am from IIT but then I was able to convince her that it is not what it all seems to be. She told that she was doing MBA from some college, which I again forgot, in Lucknow and kept bragging that it's nothing compared to the standards and students of IIT. I heard her humbly and accepted all her appreciation in simpers. She questioned little more of me and I answered little more of me. Then I asked her about her interest in novels and she explained her hobbies of writing, singing, dancing, painting and reading. Somehow we were able to form a very cosy bonding and friendship within an hour of talk in which I was mostly being flattered with all that I am and I am not. But she was so beautiful that I could have spent all night like that. I wished it not to stop. The sun not to rise another dawn. The whole world just to be here, forever!
Then she asked me of my interests and hobbies.
"Mostly, writing is all I do."
"What do you write?"
I just used to pen poems then and so I replied
"Poems"
"I love poems. Would you do me a favour?"
"What?" And then she asked something that really moved me.
"Write a poem for me!"
"What! Why?" For some reason I freaked out.
She smiled and calmly said "Like you brought me the sweets!"
Just as you would imagine divine angels from fairy tales to speak. I couldn't refuse. Now without the help of Microsoft Word, thesaurus and Concise Oxford English Dictionary, my job became really tough and challenging. But I managed to write a little poem of eight lines in forty minutes. All the while she kept silent and carefully read my face and working. I handed her over the paper, she glanced at my bad hand writing and it took her ten minutes to understand it.

"Would you read it for me?"
"What!" I was totally out of words, out of expression and out of everything I had previously known. After my long confused quiet she said
"Please! I can't understand the emotion behind lines unless I hear them."
Of course it was true. I have been abstruse writer and sometimes after a month I myself can't decode my cryptic writings. And then I did something I can't imagine. I read it to her, flowing in the words, the emotions, the expressions, the pitches and whispers. The eight lines didn't seem all that short. An era passed by. In those ten minutes the howling, the fluttering, the sound of gush, the snorts and noises all fell mute. It seemed that there are only two people in the world. And when I finished Haseen took a deep breath and said
"Thank you Abhay. It's the most wonderful gift I have ever got!"
"You are welcome Haseen." I couldn't conceal my smile.

We talked some more into the night and she fell asleep after a while. I was living the most beautiful dream and I wished to live in it longer but I didn't know when the night draped me into the hymns of sleep.
It was 6:30 or probably 7 am when she woke me up
"Abhay! My station has come I am leaving."
"Okay" I said.
"Bye"
"Bye" and she left.

When her words actually reached my brain, in a split second my sleep vanished. I said "what!" I still can't say if I was dreaming or awake. Then I realised that it was actually Kanpur and she had taken away all her bags. Suddenly all the last night, the Serendipities and A walk to remembers flashed back in frames in my mind. I found my sandals and ran onto the platform. I could still see her leaving but the signal turned green and the train started to move. I couldn't think, I couldn't wait, I couldn't run, I choked but I could hold no more and I screamed
"Haseen! What is your number?"
She turned towards me, her hair curls fiddling with the wind, her eyes sparkling, and her face more blissful than ever, her grace glowing like the morning light. She turned towards me, the train gained pace, I stood still but she was far too away. I realized it was too late.
She screamed "Thank you" She smiled, turned back and left! And forever Haseen disappeared into the crowds.

After a fortnight I returned to Delhi, ran into a book store to purchase the Erich Segal’s Love Story, read it and cried all night long.

My Era

2009-08-08T10:31:00.000-07:00

In last five years my home has become a sojourn for me. Now and then I have to find time, quite often steal it, to be back to the place which was once all mine. Life gets busy as you grow up, time turns elusive; things change. But there are memories and characteristics of the era you have lived in which you never forget. There are dimensions of that time, good or bad, that get lost. Some leave trail, some prefer a silent exit.

This July when I was leaving home for Delhi, it was probably one of the rare times when I felt like 'am leaving home'. It has become a business in all these years but this was the season of rain with, if not dark lowly clouds, clear blue skies in the daytime, a shower in the evening and splendid starry nights-bright and young! But emotions have no value in the money driven professional world. Emotions have their place in closed closets, heavily locked so as to not let any human sign of feelings escape the door of terribly lost personal worlds. And so at night, I moved out of my house with blessings of father and mother, seated on back of the bike of my brother and there galloped the black horse, driving me to the railway station.

We tore the world of silence, apart, riding on the lonely countryside road, cutting the farms, through the smell of rain, greenery of trees, against the fresh bathed wind and strong stink of rotting flesh probably a dog who met its fate under screeching tyres of truck. And we rode past all that is and was. My brother sensed my melancholy mind and as we passed by some men sitting by the road, he started this conversation

"These people who sit by road side with beedis on one hand, don't mosquitoes bite them?"
"Probably they don't breed in open lands."
"Or probably beedis keep them away."
"Hmmm...maybe."
"Probably they don't come close due to stink."
We shared a light laugh.
After a few minutes I quipped
"It's actually wonderful you know."
"What is?"
"We would be telling stories to our next generation about our time when people used to sit by the road side in dawn and dark to produce colourful excreta. And they would wonder in awe where all that era has disappeared!"
"May be we would have fables about sharing beedis at night!"

We shared a big laugh, at the thought of what would it be, almost losing balance of the bike and in a few minutes there I was in front of the station with memories of my era to escort me to Delhi.

Identity

2009-03-31T13:14:00.000-07:00

Long ago my brother asked me a simple question, "Who are you?"
I said, "I am Abhay Shukla."
"Yeah, but...who are you?"
"I am the son of M.P. Shukla"
"I am not asking who you are son of or who your father is. Am asking, who are you?"
"I am the resident of the country India. i live in rewa, m.p., and my name is abhay shukla"
"But that is not the answer to the question i have asked"
I got confused, "Am a human being!"
"Everyone's a human being, so how does that describe you?"

I realized that this question is much much deeper than what i could have thought then as a ninth grade student.

I gave probably a hundred more replies but every time i was answering back, i was growing more sure that this is not what the answer is supposed to be. And every other reply was like an introspection; finding out something that could distinguish you from every other entity around you. Finding out that very element and essence which makes you unique.

I realised that an identity has to be something which is there even when all the connections have lost, something which is glowing when you are put in a swarm of billion strangers, something which could not be erased in time.

Seven years have passed since but still am puzzled by the profundity of the question. It still gets me teetering and shaky. Although i believe that now i know myself a lot better than i ever did but when it comes to self realization and self identification i am still on the wander road...sometimes it feels am a stranger to myself!

Self-Discovery

2009-02-04T11:02:00.000-08:00

Sometimes life goes stagnant like the car stuck in the jam of busy Monday evening. You can’t move forward, you can’t move backwards but just be there and wait for the signal to go green for you. While many of us see the signal and move, there are others who find themselves in long queues and before they could move it goes red again, and then there are others who can’t even notice the signal.

Eventually everyone gets stuck at some point of time, somewhere in dimensions of life they choose for themselves. For few of us this would mean exploring a new route where we could find the vastness of an alternative world we were not familiar with, for many of us it would mean struggling as far and as long as we can, and for most of us it would mean the ultimate failure of self and a devastating experience rendering us to bitterness of life. But what we forget and fail to understand is that the car is stuck not because of us but the consequences of this stagnation are all because of us. We may choose to reach the inherent inbuilt in us and explore the capabilities, we may choose to struggle through the time or we might just ignore everything and let things happen. But the one who is ready to risk with the will and courage to see dreams and has the guts to do it eventually leads oneself to a far better reason. And it’s not about giving up everything and heading to Himalayas wishing to find some meaning there, it’s not about the ranks that system associates with us that we start believing to be as true as our identity, it’s not about being alone on the path we see and it’s not about fear, it’s about a free choice of what we want to be; just a choice.

If you think of a happy meaningful life, it always comes down to very simple things. The experiences that are otherwise ordinary will astonish you with their elegance. Adventure and bliss is not only in the bosom of nature but it’s also in the depth of our thoughts and the way we perceive what we observe. No human mind is ordinary in the sense we think of ordinary. It’s an irony that we can not see through ourselves what we truly are. Borrowing eyes is not the best thing to do when you want to know something that is connected with you. And when you start to see it from your eyes, it’s all simple and apparently clear. As soon as you get into this path of free thought and independence from influences that affect your mind, you will know what gets you out of the jam; you will make a sudden change and embark your own journey!

Life lies in the grassroots of reality and understanding this reality makes us a better person everyday. The more you dig the more you know ‘the who’ you are and easier it becomes to be ‘the who’ you are. And once you have reached the landscape where nothing is fake or affected by them and those, you see yourself naked as you are born, as you are and as you want to be. A pure self image gives you the ultimate freedom and power to make choices for your life. This is the freedom and power everyone yearns for all their lives but without diving into their pools, it can never come. And this is the freedom and the power to reason that makes every stagnation a new turn in this wonderful journey that is you!

2009-01-20T08:44:00.000-08:00

Sometimes i step back from my daily routine, work and paradigms that i live in for a while and think, is that really me?
Sometimes life appears very unreal. Everyone is moving with the mob not knowing what exactly they are doing, not knowing where they are heading to and somehow this system makes us believe that everything will work out fine. I am not sure whether it actually happens and i am not sure whether this is the right thing to do.
When i knew a little less about the world it was always essential for me to know where this road would lead me to. However i admit that the dreams and ambitions at this phase of life were very simple but as a kid it was as important as anything else. Now i have grown big and have learned to not know every time what the roads will end up with. But sometimes am confused and wonder is it the right thing to do?

The Past

2008-12-15T02:28:00.000-08:00

This space is a sacred place. This space has so much of depth that you can go in and may never be able to come out. This silence is ever widening and stronger than anything else.
Its amazing to know how the same silence can convey different things, emotions, arguments, messages at the same or different point of time.
There is no end to it because you can never know where it begun. It may appear that you hold an end of it but you don't. Our hands were not made to keep everything. Somethings just slip away like the sand, the more you try to hold it, the more you are losing the hold of it.
Past is like a dream that you have actually lived. Past is the action you did which has left the foot prints to teach you ever what you did; right or wrong. Past is a rememberance of the times that would eventually flash back to remind you what could have been but wasn't perfect.

Kiddie Times

2008-11-30T13:08:00.000-08:00

When my mother slapped me at 11 I felt I’m still a child. But I had friends. Friends who play gaga games, who do what is called mischievous, who do all sorts of nonsense and sometimes on rare occasions give their invaluable suggestions too. They gave me a glance of the outer world. It seemed good and bad…different people different world. And I realized it’s my mother who relegated me to a child. They told me am old enough to know what outer world lives on and how it does it and certainly am too old to be slapped. So I decided to escape from so thought small place and so bad mother. I got some idea and it was simple. Steal some money go to railways or buses, get a ticket and fly to a new adventurous place. It was easy. Two of my friends too got ready to accompany to the daring new world. They never told they too hated their mothers or what. Probably they are smarter to what they should tell. Whatever now I will not have to starve alone if something so happens or I would have reached a bad world because geography maps don’t show which part of globe is good or bad.

It was an eventful day. The three captains with the same goals met to sketch out a plan something like they do in Hollywood movies or an indigenous robbery plan. I was so thrilled that day that I could hardly breathe out of excitement and fear. They were discussing the plan I tried a lot to listen and point out some mistake or give some idea of mine out of my small brain but I could hardly concentrate. I was lost dreaming. Dreaming of the new world away from all those scolds of mother away from all work and study….free and …..Free. The plan was finally somehow made. Everyone agreed to bring whatever money they can without thinking of what is left-if it is-would be enough for mothers or even brothers or sisters and of course who ever is left will not be awaited much cause he can lead others into trouble. And we also decided to run on the next Sunday people will think we are out for some play and we will be far by the time they would realize what has actually happened. How smart we are! We will become role models for all those whose mothers slap.

A day before I stole some money with shivering hands and sinful soul and violating the agreement made. For the first time I felt how much in fear of being caught a thief is. And for the first time I felt am doing something wrong and I should give it a rethink. But as it is said an arrow shot from bow cannot be taken backwards so were my words. Cause they will start calling me a coward together with a child which I hated a lot that I can do anything to stop being called. On the destined evening we put all our survival kits in our bag and moved to the buses. “Hey Can u give us a ticket to some good place?” we asked to the ticket man. “There is no good place son” he replied. “Then take us somewhere we will find it ourselves” said one of my friends. “Go home son” replied the ticket man.

We hopelessly waited four hours for the bus which will take us to somewhere until the sound of a motorcycle. And I saw it coming out of the dark bullying away silence and I began to shiver with a certain thought. And the expected giant figure became clear in light and asked us to sit back. No one can gather the courage to disobey and like a servant being ordered we followed the listened. He was my father.
He left us to respective places. I wish he could have left me somewhere else this very night but he didn’t. I didn’t have the courage to face mother instead she faced me. And I thought with a dozen more slaps it would get better to agree that I’m still a child. But she took me onto her lap wept a bit, kissed me and loved me. She held me so tight like a magnet given some godly power and I being a small iron nail.
“Mom don’t suffocate me I promise I will never leave”. She laughed and freed me-huffing and puffing to breathe. The following day four slaps did their job instead of dozen but now I knew my mother isn’t bad and may be she’s true when she says am still a child.