I'm not for sale!!

Could that be a butterfly? She wondered. She hadn't seen one ever since she had started working at the royal kitchen. No butterfly entered the castle grounds and she dared not go outside. I must be dreaming then, she thought but she couldn't have been because the textures and the colors on the butterfly's wings were too vivid to be a dream.

When she gained consciousness she realized she hadn't been dreaming but had mistaken her new dress for a butterfly. New dress? She didn't remember changing her clothes. The dress was grand and she had always wanted to dress up but couldn't afford, so had given up on that dream. Am I dreaming again? She wondered, but she realized it wasn't a dream when somebody announced that she was awake.

She didn’t understand why there were so many people gathered around her. Is it because of the dress? I did not steal it. I don't even remember changing my clothes. Please, believe me...she wanted to tell them but their curious stares shooed away her left over courage and sealed her mouth. All she could do was stare back, searching for a clue that would explain her situation. The crowds' mood perplexed her. There were no questions in their eyes but malice that sent creeps across her spine. She did not take long to recognize the situation she was in and when she did, she did not want to believe it was happening. It cannot be true, she muttered under her breath and rubbed her eyes hoping to brush off sleep from them but deep inside she knew that it wasn't a dream.

It couldn't be so bad, she hoped and wanted to forget everything she had once feared. Ganga was free and so would she be, after a while. She would have to serve her new master only until he lost interest in her. He would find another girl before long and then she might be sent back to work at the royal kitchen.

"Three thousand gold", a man called out.

She wondered whether she wanted a new master. No. I don't, she thought because she wanted to live in open like a butterfly does. She did not want to work at royal kitchen either but it was a better option considering the situation she was in at the moment. At the royal kitchen, she had friends who worked along with her. They laughed together and also poured their hearts out to each other when they were not cooking.

"She's untouched. Three thousand is definitely a no", said another man.

"Five thousand then", someone at the back cried.

"Eight thousand gold", cried another man. The crowd murmured among themselves for awhile and then the man who had declined three thousand announced that she was sold. As someone dragged her out of the hall, she noticed that no eyes followed her, instead they were susing their next victim.

She couldn't see her master's face because he left immediately after bidding, asking his men to take her home. On the way home, they did not even bother to consider that she might hear them while they discussed what their master would possibly do with her.

"I can say that he got no interest in her. I wonder why he paid eight thousand gold for her" said one man.

"He did not take another glance at her", pointed out another man.

The master's house fascinated her. It was as big as a castle. She wondered who her master could be but dared not to ask anyone. She was sure of one thing though and that was that whosoever he master was, he was very rich.

She was bathed in rose water and dressed in fine silk, and asked to wait in a room that was not only spacious but luxurious too. She had never seen anything like it. The bed was soft and the sheets were scented.

It isn't all that bad, she thought and that was when someone knocked the door. She did not know what to do and before she could decide, someone entered the room. Could that be the master? she wondered.

He was but instead of introducing himself to her, he asked, "Do you know why you are here?" She shook her head.

He asked, "Do you know who I am?" and she again shook her head.

"I want you to bear my child. I love my wife very much but she cannot conceive and I do not want another bride. I also cannot let our bloodline die...", he explained but never once did he ask her consent.

He came every night and made love to her. Though he was gentle, she knew that he did not really want her and though her body reciprocated, she had sealed away her heart. And every time she climaxed, she thought, No, I'm not for sale. You might own my body...you might also sow your seeds in me, but you shall never win my heart, NEVER!!

Dusk, The beginning of Darkness!

He smiled.

It was a smile of victory, of contentment. The most genuine smiles are often priceless, as they are not easy to come by. Sometimes it takes years of hard work, sometimes a happy memory. In Pranav’s case, it was the former.

Excellence is achieved not only through hard work, but by being passionate about something; by being crazy about something you love the most. Pranav had somehow known this since his childhood.

When he was just a five year old little brat, all he wanted to do all the time was play cricket. One evening when he came back home after a game, his mother, like everyday, had immediately dragged him to the bathroom. She had then asked him casually while giving him a bath, “What do you want to do when you grow up, my dear?” And Pranav, who was wearing nothing but a smile, had replied in the same casual manner, “I want to play Cricket.” His mother had simply laughed, and he had kept mum.

Now, fifteen years later, he was still smiling, holding the cell phone in his left hand. It was just seven-thirty in the morning, and he had woken up to the most exciting news of his life. He had been selected for the National Cricket team. Only his mother wasn’t alive to enjoy his success.

He was enjoying the moment. Though the call had gotten over, he was still holding the phone and smiling. Some of his friends noticed him and whistled. It was February 14^th. Love was all around, and his friends’ thoughts were that of a conventional mind.

He finally kept his cell phone back in his pocket and walked back into his hostel room. He needed to be alone. The first few moments of one’s greatest happiness should be spent with oneself, and that’s exactly what he was doing. It was Valentine’s Day, and he was in love – with himself.

Falling in love with oneself is the beginning of a lifelong romance.

******

He loved himself very much, and that’s the reason he could give so much love to her – to Ananya.

Ananya!

He had to tell her the news. She would be so happy for him, he knew. She had dreamed of it along with him. Except for her, there wasn’t anybody in his life. She was one, she was all.

He got dressed up, and just when he was about to go, his cell phone rang. It was an unknown number.

******

“Tell me one thing. If you have to choose between me and cricket, what is it going to be?”

“You know, people love a lot of things in their lives. For me, there are only two things I love with all of my heart: You and Cricket. But if I have to choose between you and my game, I shall have to choose the latter.”

At that particular juncture her respect for him grew, and she kissed him on the cheek.

“Would you have kissed me on the lips if I’d said that I’d choose you over my game?” Pranav asked, grinning from ear to ear.

“No, you idiot. I’d have slapped you hard across your face if you’d said that. If you can’t love yourself, if you don’t have any respect for your dream, how can you ever love me?”

******

“Hello,” Pranav said into the phone.

“Pranav?”

“Yes, this is he.”

“I’m Dr. Pradeep from Ashraya hospital. I was rather hoping you might be able to come to hospital now?”

“Oh, my test results have come, haven’t they? I’d almost forgotten about today’s meeting with you. Sorry. But sir, I was on my way to somewhere else….”

“Just a matter of few minutes, my boy. Anyhow hospital is not too far, is it?”

“Yes, all right. I’ll be there in a while.”

******

The rays of the morning sun were reflecting on the lake with iridescent brilliance. For some people that were strolling along the bank of the lake, the day had just started. But for Pranav, it was over. There would be no more mornings for him. The doctor had said two more months; two more months filled with darkness. Two months, only if he got admitted and started getting the treatment.

A week ago when he had complained of severe abdominal pain, constipation, nausea, and some blood in the vomit, the doctor had subjected him to various tests.

“I was just over-reacting. I’d eaten like a glutton the previous day. Maybe it’s because of tha…..” he had begun to say the moment he saw the doctor in the morning.

“Stomach Cancer,” the doctor had cut him off. He knew no tricks could make Pranav feel any better.

He had listened to the doctor in silence for the next half hour, without reacting. And then he had just gotten up and left.

Now, he stood staring into the void. His life had come to a stand still.

******

“What is love, Pranav?”

“I don’t really know what love is, my love. All I know is that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to grow old with you. I’ve heard people say that a man should find a woman to die for, but I’m proud to have found a woman to live for.”

And they hugged each other tightly as tears rolled down Ananya’s cheeks.

******

He stood there incapacitated, listening to the horrific thoughts in his mind. He shuddered at the thought of Ananya.

People find love on Valentine’s Day, but Pranav had lost it.

He came back to reality when his cell phone rang. It was she.

I’m sure to go through a lot of pain in the next couple of weeks, but the pain would be unendurable for her if she ever came to know.

The phone was still ringing. He held it tightly as if he was trying to crush it, closed his eyes, and switched it off.

*******

Un-ending Conversation!

Varun knew this was going to be a long tiresome journey. He was sitting next to a middle aged fat bald guy wearing baggy type of dress! It was red in color and very highlighting and didn't even bother to turn towards him. The plane was not filled and he could see few empty seats around. He got up from his seat and took a stroll along the narrow passage of the plane. He had a glance over the passengers who were busy in their own world. Few were chatting with the fellow passengers and few kept to themselves.

Soon his eyes fell on a girl who looked his age. She was comfortably sitting, with a calm expression on her face, next to a woman who was reading a magazine. The girl was looking out of the window. In blue jeans and red top, white shoes, with her hair let loose, she looked spunky. The boy never took his eyes off her, and the girl never turned away from the window. I wonder what's so fascinating about clouds, he thought. Look at me, damn it! And she finally did.

He smiled at her, and she looked at him with her eyebrows raised.

"There are two vacant seats over there. Would you like to sit with me?" he asked

"Not at all!!" she shrugged and got up.

Once they were settled in their new seats, he asked, “What is she reading?”

The girl craned her neck to see the woman with whom she was sitting till then, turned to him and said with a wink, “You know what she is reading.”

“Of course I do. Such a moron, I say,” he said, laughing.

“Come on. Don’t say that,” she said, laughing. It was too conspicuous from the way she laughed that she agreed with him.

“Well, anyways,” he continued, “I’m Varun.”

“I’m Sheela.”

“Splendid! And who is your sister? Munni?”

“Oh please! I’m sick of it. Everyone made fun of my name after that song came out, you know. Why did they have to write a song with my name?”

“So that Katrina could shake her booty.”

“She does it either ways,” she said, flicking her hair.

“Yes, that’s true. And as long as she does, the world will be a happy place,” he grinned.

“Boys!”

It was two o’clock in the afternoon and an air-hostess gave them their lunch and proceeded to the next row. She didn’t speak a single word.

“These are the worst kind of air-hostesses I’ve ever seen. Such pathetic service,” Sheela murmured.

“Touché,” Varun said, “They don't talk, they don’t smile, and mainly, they are not beautiful.” He paused for a moment and then said, “Hey, why don’t you serve food? I’m sure everybody will like that.”

“Are you flirting with me, mister?” Sheela asked, smiling.

“No, missy. I haven’t started yet. I meant it. I mean, look around. You are the only young and beautiful girl in this whole goddammn plane.”

“Sshhh. They don’t appreciate blasphemy here. Careful,” she said, with a finger on her lips.

“I don’t give a damn.”

She looked at him with mild anger as she opened the silver paper of her food packet.

“All right, all right,” he said, throwing up his hands in the air.

He too opened his food packet and took a spoonful.

“Gosh, dal rice? This has got to be the worst flight service ever.”

She just shrugged her shoulders and continued eating.

“So what do you do?” he asked.

“I’m an artist,” she said.

“Artist as in?”

“Painter.”

“How cool is that! And what a co-incidence! I’m a painter too,” he said, cradling his chin.

“Really?” she was fascinated.

“Yes. But there is a small difference.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you paint pictures with colours. And I paint pictures with words,” he said, taking another spoonful of his food.

“Ah, a writer, I believe. What a beautiful way to say it!” she was impressed.

The laughter they shared together then was more delicious than the food they were eating.

Sheela asked him a few minutes later, “So, do you have a girlfriend?”

“Was that a question or an offer?” he was quick to answer.

“What?” she was startled. “Of course it was a question,” she said, laughing and shaking her head. “Flirting comes naturally to boys, doesn’t it? Every little opportunity is used. Well, see where you are now. The rules of flirting are different here.”

“Really?” he said, “Let’s see. After all we have all the time in the world.”

She turned away, took a spoonful of her food and asked again, “Tell me.”

“Oh, that? No. I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“You don’t look like you are single.”

“I know. It’s just that I’m keeping my options open,” he said, grinning from ear to ear.

“Typical guy’s answer.”

“What about you? Do you have a boyfriend? Wait, before you could answer; it is a question as well as an offer.”

“I’m sorry to say, my dear. Your offer is rejected. But at the same time, I’m single too.”

“Oh, great. Then I was wondering if we –,” he was cut in.

“Don’t have any imaginations about wooing me, all right?”

“Funny you should say that, Sheela. After all, this journey is going to be very long, trust me.”

“Yes, maybe,” she said with a tinge of sadness.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, noticing her melancholic expression.

“It’s OK,” she said.


A moment later an air-hostess cleared their empty food packets. Several minutes later the plane landed in an obscure location. Nobody knew what place it was. The pilot didn’t even bother to announce that he was landing. Sometime later a few more passengers got on the plane. Every one of them had a confused expression on his/her face. They checked their tickets and found their seats.

Varun was clearly enjoying Sheela’s company very much. As they had occupied others’ seats, Varun was worried that they would be sent back to their places. If Sheela was worried about the same thing, she didn’t evince it. Fortunately for them, no such thing happened. In fact many seats were still unoccupied. There were going to be a few more stops on the way, they were sure.

“Had you ever seen an aeroplane like this before?” Sheela asked, crinkling her eyes.

“No. This is weird. A 3000-seater plane? And a black-coloured one?”

“Maybe these kinds of planes are meant to be for special purposes,” she said, looking around.

“I think so too,” he acquiesced.

“Crazy!”

A few minutes passed and Sheela still looked somber, pensive. Varun, in an attempt to perk her up, said, “You know what. I’m still not able to get over the idea of that woman reading Lifestyle magazine."

It did the trick. She chuckled. “She had it with her when she got on the plane.”

“I’m sure she did,” he said, with a sarcastic smile.

She shook her head, smiling; craned her neck to see the woman and started laughing hysterically as she turned towards him. They held each other’s hands and continued laughing.

“So, tell me,” Varun said when their laughter had subsided, “How did you get on this plane?”

He finally asked the question to which there was no easy answer. And thus began a conversation that would never end. They talked about their dreams, their desires, their fantasies, their parents and siblings and friends, their careers, and mainly, they talked about how they had lived……and died.

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

Ego and Love!

love is blind.

This is one of the stupidest statements I've ever heard.

If something makes you blind, you can’t call it ‘love,’ can you?

After looking at the title of this post, some of you might be thinking that love and ego are antonyms. I beg to differ. They go hand in hand. If one isn’t utterly selfish, he can’t love anybody truly and honestly. To be selfish, one must first have a ‘self.’ And having a true self is not easy. A selfish man is the one who isn’t concerned with others in any primary matter. His wishes, desires and dreams aren’t guided by others. He doesn’t need the approval of others. He doesn’t need the assurance of others that he is good, that his work is good. He lives for himself. He loves himself. He respects himself. This is why I say that only an utter egotist can love somebody honestly. If a person cannot respect himself, he can neither love nor respect others. So there is nothing called selfless love. And anything which is selfless is rotten, let alone love.

I often hear things like, “I can do ANYTHING for my girl,” “I have given my heart and soul to my boy,” etc. But giving one’s soul is the easiest thing in the world. Keeping it with oneself is difficult.

Let me narrate you an incident that took place some months ago. I was sitting in a coffee shop, waiting for my friend. A few tables away from me, a boy of my age was sitting, reading a book. Some time later, a drop dead crazy gorgeous girl walked into the coffee shop and to my envy she went and sat in front of the reading boy. Well, the boy said ‘hi,’ in a nonchalant way, and she apologized for coming late. The boy said it wasn’t a problem since he had his book for the company. Then our heroine got angry all of a sudden and said to him that she deliberately came late in order to know whether he was worried about her or not. She then mouthed some imprecations and walked out of the coffee shop furiously. And I was not jealous anymore, not because she walked out on the boy, but because I was happy for not having a person like her in my life. Let beauty be damned, I don’t want a bimbo for a lover.

This is what we get to see everywhere. The girl wears her boyfriend as her badge and the boy keeps his girlfriend as his champion’s trophy. And they call it love. True romantic love is only possible to people of unimpeachable self esteem. Now where was the girl’s self esteem in the above example?

One of the biggest fallacies is that love is a matter of heart and not the mind.

Let me tell you something: love is related to mind, and not heart in any way. It is NOT independent of reason and one cannot love anyone without being rational; it is a subject of values and only a rationally selfish man with the highest self esteem is capable of love, because it is only he who can hold his convictions and values firmly. If he cannot value himself, he cannot value others, and eventually cannot love anybody. Such is the nature of love. It is thus an expression of your highest values, and the greatest gift you receive for your chosen actions, your character of the highest kind, for the joy he/she receives from you through your virtues. It is definitely not blind, because it sees a lot.

Love is devoid of any pity or sympathy, contempt, self-sacrifice and compromise. These things never exist between people who are equal, and love can only exist between equals.

In love, there can only be reverence and glory.

A woman, in spite of being brilliant, leaves her job to take care of her family. Now this is not a compromise in any way, because her family comes above everything else. Her first priority is her family and not her job. She is doing it for her own happiness and for the love of her husband and children. She is utterly selfish and completely virtuous. On the contrary, if she places her job above her family and still gives it up, then it would be a compromise. And it is definitely not virtuous. It’s like saying, ‘Schedule your priorities. Don’t prioritize your schedules.’

If a man’s wife is suffering from a deadly disease and he spends all his money for her treatment and also leaves his job to take care of her at home, it is again not a compromise. He does it because he is an egotist. He can’t be happy if something happens to his wife. His wife comes above everything else. He does it for himself. He does it for his love for her.

Now, let me tell you what a compromise is.

A boy wants to go on a trip with his friends and have some fun. But his girlfriend doesn’t want him to go, because she wants him to be with her. He is cognizant of the fact that she is not sick, or depressed in anyway, but simply wants him to be with her. He succumbs and stays with her. He is unhappy for missing the trip, but he doesn’t show it. He doesn’t want her to know that he is unhappy, and he does it under the pretense of his so-called love for her. And this is called a compromise, which is certainly not virtuous. Compromise is a negative term, and not positive. What the boy did for his girlfriend is not love, but rotten dick-headedness. Anyone who compromises is a brute.

When a boy asks his girlfriend to change, say, a particular personality trait, her dressing style, her hair style, her friend circle, or anything else, she does it blindly, without a process of thinking. She thinks that giving up something (something that defines her identity) for him is 'love.' But only she doesn't know that it is not love, but slavery.

The biggest crime in the world, folks, is not murder, or extortion, or fraud, or rape, but having self-pity. All the other crimes I mentioned start from this single crime itself.

When a relationship ends in an awful way, some get into a state of melancholy and it is quite normal. They share it with their close ones, not to gain sympathy, but they just want to get it out of their systems. They never make any fuss about it, but deal it with dignity.

There are others who belong to another category: they start pitying themselves and start advertising their misfortunes, everywhere, with everyone (even with total strangers). They expect others to say that they are good and their exes are scumbags. They need ASSURANCE from OTHERS that everything is going to be all right. Their self esteem is breached, they start enjoying the attention they are getting from their sympathizers, and eventually they start enjoying that pain. Technically speaking, they become masochists. And masochism is a disease.

It’s people like these who are incapable of loving anyone, people without self esteem, people without integrity. These are the kind of people that always need others to guide their actions; their lives depend on others’ judgments. They never ask, ‘Am I correct?’ but all they ask is, ‘Am I correct in others’ eyes?’ Others’ opinions about them and their work matter a lot to them than their own. I agree sometimes some relationships do not work, and it causes some pain. But pain is not the reason to suspend the faculty of independent judgment. Pitying oneself is not going to get one anywhere. When a man starts having self-pity, he starts destroying himself. And how can a self-destructing man love anyone?

Now you understand why one needs to have an ego in order to have the capability of loving. Anything done for personal happiness is good (provided it doesn’t cause any disturbance, pain or embarrassment to others) and anything done to please others, no matter who they are, is despicable. It is slavery.

When I see a man looking at the sky, enjoying the cosmic beauty, with his head thrown back, it is the sight of the uplift of his head that fascinates me more than all that heavenly glory. But I get sick of that same uplift of head when I see him kneeling down in front of a girl, beseeching to accept his love. Love? Sorry, wrong usage of the word here.

So where does true love come from?

It can only come from a self-sufficient ego.

Now I would like to ask a question to all those Lailas and Majnoos who say, ‘I can do ANYTHING for my boy/girl’: Where is your ‘I’

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

I humbly wish you all have lovers, and not girlfriends/boyfriends. Hope you get my drift

P.S. Having said the things I firmly believe in, I might still write funny stories where boys behave in a silly way in front of girls. But that would just be for pure fun and entertainment.