Courage..

An open wound, with no salt inside
creating my own laws that I won't abide

Letters I'll write, with no regret when it is sent
Lion locked in his cage, my bars are bent

Like a brick you'll break, another trophy on my shelf
Test me, push me, shadow me, I'm stealth
Fire in my eyes, but not my time to attack
Moving too fast, bound to come off track

I'm only a picture, but not something to stare at
Anger inside, but no need to look back

War within, moves around with nowhere to hide
Stored away in my mind, but I will not confide

I have nothing to say, no words to speak
Thinking of a problem, but the sound will not leak

Piercing words, seeming alive with no repent
Locked away, the scream creates a slight dent

Magic Always Ends...

Under the starry sky, I sit alone
I sit alone, like a lost knight.
Humming a lazy tune and
wishing for the night to die soon.

I sit alone, yet in the
company of the cold night.
Faraway, a dog howled and
went behind the veils, the moon.

I sit here, quiet. Quiet,
yet noisily beats my heart.
Breaking the silence,
the breeze began to croon.

I sit here, under the starry sky,  
waiting for the first light.
The breeze sung and with it,
I hummed. I hummed the same tune.

My eyes fluttered again and again.
With sleep, was it's fight.
Forgetting, magic always ends,
I sit here. I sit here, like a goon.

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.

Does NAME matter?

Names are a peculiar human trait. We build our lives around our name. A name which is given to us without our assent. A name which we are aware could make or break our social life. Ever heard of a guy name Muthuswamy rocking the party scene? No, right? But with a name like Rohan or Vicky, the same guy could be a party hopper with multiple girlfriends instead of the computer programmer/geologist/rocket or nuclear scientist he is today.

Names also lend themselves to much disintegration during childhood. For example Muthuswamy will never be treated with respect by the school bullies (usually named Vikram, Vicky, Vijay, Rohit or one of the more ‘hip’ names). Muthuswamy’s name will be dissected and much fun will happen at his expense. Muthuswamy’s friends will call him Muthu. The bullies will call him a shorter name which will leave poor Muthuswamy scarred for life. I came across a true story: There was a guy in school whose name was such. 6-7 years of that torture and he decided to have his name legally changed. He was renamed Kaushik. The bullies responded by calling him "Cowshit".

Now, let us do an imagining exercise. Right. Close your eyes. But then, how will you read this? Right then, don’t close your eyes. Your eyes are important to this blog. Imagine if you will, Muthuswamy. What is the image that comes to your mind? I know. Fat, dark guy with snot in his nose and oil in his hair. Right? Absolutely. It wont matter if the kid is thin, fair as milk and his nose is clean as a whistle. All that matters is that people who hear that name think of the fat, dark kid. Now imagine Vikram. Tall, strapping young guy with a close up smile, right? Won’t matter if he’s a short, fat guy with a smile that can break mirrors. People who hear that name will think of the former. The power of names. Quite something, right?

Muthuswamy will also face the curse of the funny name while in college. The college studs will ridicule his name in order to impress the girls. To the girls, Muthuswamy might as well not exist and they will remember Muthuswamy only when there are notes to be had. Muthuswamy will not be boyfriend material because of his name* but he will be friend material because of his class notes.

Muthuswamy will also be unlucky in love. The girl he finally proposes to will say no. Not because of any inherent problem with Muthuswamy. Its just that being called Muthuswamy’s girlfriend is not exactly cool. Muthuswamy will finally settle down with some girl his parents choose for him.

But its not all bad for Muthuswamy. Due to his name, Muthuswamy is most likely to go on to top his school, college and university. His name might cause him to be ridiculed on the social circuit, but it is pure gold on the education circuit. He is most likely to get a plum job, a house, a car and most likely to become a millionaire fastest among than his peers. Muthuswamy will not have to endure the perils of relationships, because his name predisposes him to an arranged marriage. Vikram/Vicky is most likely to become a struggling model/actor/BPO guy or star on Emotional Atyachaar and have a string of relationships. Marry divorce, remarry, divorce etc. His name predisposes him to such things. Such is the power of names.

So, parents or would be parents will do well to know this. Naming your kid is a very important event. What name you give them will decide what direction their future goes. Not really. All this is my theory, which may or may not be true. But try not to name your kid Muthuswamy or Rameshwaram Murthy or Perunambiar or Kuppaithotty. It will save many counselling sessions.
–
*not always true. A girl named Lakshmipriya might find his name charming.
–
The video which planted the seeds of this post:

Of your Love!

How many times I wondered,
And in darkness I pondered-
Will it ever happen to me?
Will I ever knowingly see?

How you feel to be touched

From nearness to be watched
How you lovingly smile;
And speak in a silent while

Or just walk together
With a silent laughter
How I waited for years
And counted those hours

With just a hope of promise
Of your love and my bliss

Now the tranquility is out of reach

Alacrity is what now I search!

The Message! Part-1

All characters and events depicted in this post are fictional, and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely and completely coincidental.

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

It was cold December night and there was complete silence all over. Mahesh and Rajneesh had decided to dig the grave, one had pick-axe and other a shovel. It was around 2 in the night, and they had dug 8 feet deep hole. Sometime later when shovel struck the ground it made contact with a metal and produced a sharp sound which echoed in the silence night. This was the sweetest sound they had ever heard. They rejoiced and danced like little kids.

"what do we do?" asked Mahesh

"Obviously take it and run" Rajneesh replied.

"Not so soon boys.." said a third voice.

There stood a fat plump middle aged whiskered fellow, in a khaki uniform looking down the grave smiling sarcastically.

***

Sadashiv had dedicated his entire life to rob banks, people and houses. He had started off as a petty thief, and very soon grew to become one of the biggest and the most evasive robbers of the country. He was never caught. Now lying on his death bed, he called his five sons. They were robbers too.

Sadashiv was always at the peak of his career and amassed a lot of wealth. The time had come to inherit to their sons. But Sadashiv had already told his sons that he would be giving his riches to only one, the one that was better than remaining four.

Every one of them had tried his level best to prove his mettle in the business of robbing. Everyone fared well, which only made it difficult for Sadashiv to decide on one. The old man did the unthinkable. On a piece of paper he wrote a message and passed it to his sons. A minute later, he took his last breath.

The message simply said,

Bob,
I know I’m going to die. Take care of my lucky cat.

Upon reading it, everyone, except the youngest, tore it and threw it away, for it didn’t make any sense to them, and thought that their father had gone crazy during his last days. One of them even vented out his anger: “His lucky cat died 5 years ago, and he wants us to take care of it now? And who the hell is Bob, anyway? Damn the old man.”

In spite of not knowing what the message said, the youngest son kept it. He was the only one who loved and respected his father very much. Ten years from now, the youngest son would be recruiting two young bright boys, and one of them would unfold the mystery of the last message given by the old man.

***

Most of them were sweating. It’s not that the AC wasn’t working, but the heat of tension had subjugated its cooling effect. None of them were in such a predicament before, for such a thing had never happened until then. They looked scared and helpless, but they didn’t look hopeful. They were almost convinced that the help wasn’t coming. The only two people that neither looked scared nor helpless were Mahesh and Rajneesh, because for them, hope lay in what was happening.

The job had to be done flawlessly. If anything went slightly wrong, they would end up in a big trouble and they very well knew it. They were inside the Bank of Baroda – one of the most prestigious banks.

Everyone in the Bank was held at gun point, except for Mahesh and Rajneesh, because they were the ones who held the guns.

15 minutes later, having executed their job perfectly, they were out of the bank. But what surprised the manager of the bank was that they were interested in only one locker, which had a small package. Apart from that they hadn’t taken a single rupee.

***

Shambunath, the leader of the gang was congratulating the young lads who had done the job for him. They were recently recruited and had shown lot of talent.

"So tell me Mahesh, how were you able to find out?" he asked.

Mahesh, an engineering college dropout, had unraveled the mystery of the message that Shambunath had got from his father ten years ago. He was carrying that slip of paper since then.

"well boss, your father was not telling about any lucky cat. But if you look closely some of the letters are italicized"

Shambunath took out the slip of paper once again from his shirt pocket. He had observed the italicized letters of course, but was never able to find out their significance. He observed again, carefully.

The message said:

BOB,
I know I’m going to die. Take care of my lucky CAT.

“Yeah, I know. What about them?”

“The italicized letters are: knooecrl. Right? Now if you just re-arrange those letters you’ll get ‘locker no,’” explained Mahesh.

The boss raised his eyebrows, leaned forward, and said, “Continue.”

“So now what’s the locker no? It’s CAT. It’s in capitals. See that? If you assign a number to each of the 26 alphabets in English, the value of CAT will be 3120. So it’s locker no. 3120.”

“Wow! Why didn’t I get it in all these years?! And the message was addressed to BOB, which of course is Bank of Baroda. I thought Bob was a person.”

He then patted the backs of the young lads and said, “You will be generously rewarded, my boys.”

***

Inspector Rajdeep Singh, lit a cigarette and took a drag.

"We have already told you. There wasn't anything in the package except for a watch and Rs. 2200" Rajneesh said taking out four 500 rupee note and two 100 rupee note.

"fine.. why are you digging then ground then?"

"Its nothing.. Really.."

The inspector butted out his cigarette, jumped into the pit, took the shovel and struck the ground, which again produced a sound. He looked up and stared at the two men. Having demonstrated his animosity towards their lies, he got out of the pit.

“Well, are you going to say what this is is all about? Or do you wish to go to prison?”

***

Mahesh was maddened by the injustice done to him and Rajneesh by their boss. The package they had stolen from the bank had only two things: a gold and diamond studded Patek Philippe watch with 18 complications, which was worth at least Rs. 30 lakhs. Apart from the watch there was Rs. 2200/-

Shambunath had kept the watch and given them Rs. 2200.

“Can’t even buy a decent pair of jeans with this,” Mahesh hollered when they reached home. Rajneesh didn’t try to appease him, as he very well knew it was not going to help.

Mahesh couldn’t sleep and kept on cursing his boss, but something struck him at around one in the night. He woke Rajneesh up.

“I think we have hit the jackpot.”

And when Mahesh explained what he had found out, Rajneesh shouted and screamed and danced and sang and clapped. That very moment they headed towards the grave yard – to dig through their way to riches.

Contd..

The Message! Part-2

Inspector Rajdeep singh was one of the most corrupt officials in the country. He had account of all the robbers in the town but never arrested them. He always used to take share from them, and leave them free giving warning. Word was out that two young men had robbed the bank early in the morning. When he went to the bank and asked around, it became clear to him that the robbers were Mahesh and Rajneesh. Since the moment he had found out, he had placed a constable near their house. When the constable called him up and said that they were headed somewhere in the middle of the night, he had asked him to follow. And now he had them.

"I'm pretty sure boss's father's property is hidden here." said mahesh

"how can you say that?"

"The old man not only wanted his able son to inherit watch, but also all his riches" he said

"But you said, there were only 2200 rupees in the package!" said the inspector baffled by the situation. A moment later he realized Mahesh was talking about the same money.

"I don't understand" said the inspector

Then Rajneesh gave the money to the inspector.

“An address is hidden there – address to here. This graveyard. This very grave,” said Mahesh, stamping his foot on the ground. The inspector crinkled his eyes.

“Hold these 500 rupee notes, and tell me what is NOT common between them.”

“Serial numbers?” asked the inspector.

“Damn right, you are. Serial numbers. I was a bit perplexed in the beginning. Why would the old man keep just Rs. 2200 in a locker? That too 6 mutilated notes! Then it got me thinking. Serial numbers!”

Mahesh paused for a moment and then continued.

“The serial numbers of 500 rupee notes are RST 030821, YST 011404, 4ST 180308 and 1ST 180523. Observe something?”

The inspector shook his head.

Mahesh continued. “Leave the series and observe only the numbers. Assign a letter of English to the first two numbers in each serial number. 03=C, 08=H, and 21=U. Next, 01=A, 14=N, 04=D. Then, 18=R, 03=C, 08=H. And finally, 18=R, 05=E, and 23=W. So, it’s CHU, AND, RCH, and REW. This is the order in which I held the notes. They didn’t make any sense to me then, but later on when I re-arranged them, I got “ANDREW CHURCH.”

“Go on,” said the inspector.

“Well, now observe the series. All the notes have the series ST. So, it has to be St. Andrew’s Church. Now which church exactly? There could be more than one. Now notice the very first letter or alphabet of the series: R, Y, 4 and 1. 1 and 4 give the values A and D. Again re-arrange the letters and you’ll get YARD. Graveyard! This is the only St. Andrew’s Church in the city, which has a graveyard.”

Silence reigned supreme again. None of the three spoke for the next few seconds.

“Phew! That’s some analysis. But how did you find out the exact grave?” asked the inspector.

“Look at those two 100 rupee notes. 0MN 101505 and 0MN 720096. They say MN JOE, 1972-1996. The first digit of the series, which is 0, has no value of course,” Mahesh finished explaining.

This was too much for the inspector to digest.

A minute later they picked up their shovel and pickaxe again, and dug until it became easier for them to lift the big metal box, which was buried for ten years or more.

Everyone took a deep breath and broke open the lock of the box.

“Let’s do it,” said Mahesh, and lifted the lid.

***

They were staring at the contents in mute amazement. There were two other small boxes. And when Mahesh opened them, their hearts skipped a beat. It took them almost 2 minutes to recuperate.

“How much is it worth?” asked Rajneesh, not taking his eyes off the contents.

“Minimum 30,” said the inspector.

“Lakhs?” asked Rajneesh innocently.

The inspector shook his head vigorously and said, “Crores, you moron.”

Finally, they decided to split it. The inspector demanded 50% of the share and got it. Mahesh and Rajneesh argued in the beginning, but they later agreed as they didn’t want to go to prison.

"Now, take your share and run as if you’ve never run before. And remember. Never come back,” said the inspector, packing his ‘precious’ little black bag.

Inspector Rajdeep Singh then turned and wended his way out of the graveyard.

“Damn it, man. Why the hell should he get so much?” Rajneesh was enraged.

“Keep still. We’ll figure out something soon.”

***

Few days later, Inspector Rajdeep Singh's house was robbed. Nothing was taken except that little black bag. The robbers perfectly knew about the bag’s whereabouts, because they had dealt with him many times in the past and knew how to think like him.

The inspector felt a raging thirst to kill the robbers. His ‘precious’ little black bag was gone. But what he didn’t know then was that it was just the beginning.

The next day, LokAyukta, the anti-government corruption organization of Karnataka, raided Inspector Singh's house. To his shock, the officials knew exactly where to search. They went straight to the bathroom, and pulled open the top shelf. And there it was; a small messenger bag, and in it were 20 lakh rupees in cash, a few biscuits of solid gold, and 2 small diamond stones. He was aghast. He hadn’t kept it. But he knew who had set him up. A week later he was given a permanent leave from his job.

***

Exactly one month later, Rajdeep Singh received an anonymous letter. It read:

Dear Singh,

In spite of all the dirty things you’ve done, we still think you deserve something.

So, here’s the code: 84748 843 7263 47283 24246.

Decipher it and get your share. Good luck!

P.S. If you don’t take it within 6 months from today, we’ll retrieve it back.

Yours sincerely,
MR

Forty-two attempts!

Well folks, I’m back with one more story. All characters and events depicted in this post are fictional, and any resemblance to persons living, dead, or fictional or situations past, present, or fictional is purely and completely coincidental.

---------------------------------------------------

1.

All I can see is a white sheet of paper in front of me. For the first time ever, I was about to write a love letter. One hour had passed and I’m still not able to think anything. I never realized it could be such a Herculean task. Well, love stories never fascinated me on screen or in print. But it doesn’t mean that I cannot fall in love. And yes that’s what happened: I fell in love. But I never thought it’s after effects would be so tiresome and fatigued.

I never knew one day I would be sitting in front of my desk at night 1am and would be writing letter to my love Aarthi. When my friends used to write such things I used to say “That’s ridiculous”. But now I had to.

When I proposed to Aarthi, she flinched and asked me “What kind of proposal was that?” I thought I had done it in a romantic way, but later her expressions said it all. But now I’ve learnt my lesson. Let me tell you something, proposing a girl is like selling a product. Product should be good, if not, atleast packaging should be done neat and clean with lot of embellishments. Infact today Packaging is all that works. And of course, how you ‘sell’ your product is more important than the ‘product’ itself. But in my case, Product, packaging and selling were not good. Hence the question “What kind of proposal was that??”

“Uh... What else you expect me to do??” I had asked

“You come to me like a moron and say you love me, and you expect me to accept your proposal”? Just like that? “

“But Aarthi, I cannot do all those filmy things. It’s so yucky! Ok how about me getting you a Bourneville now?” I winked.

“Shut up! Ok atleast write me a love letter – on a sheet of paper.”

“What? Love letter? You must be kidding me. We are living in a digital world Aarthi, for heavens’ sake”

“Whatever, but I’m old fashioned you see.” She said and walked away smiling to herself.

I knew she was a pragmatic girl. But you see girl is a ‘girl’, a special kind of species with X chromosomes. That’s why all these nakhras. She was trying to be foolishly romantic. Anyways I had accepted the challenge. “You want me to write a love letter? Fine. It’s just a piece of cake on a piece of paper.” I had said to myself to boost my confidence.

2.

I saw the clock; it was half past one in the night. Blank sheet in front of me reflected the complete state of my mind. I went out to my balcony, and then came back. Threw my pen on the cot and got it back again. Went near the door and swiveled. Again came back to my table picking my pen up. I had to write it at any cost.

“Ok. Let’s do it!” I said that to no one in particular. Not even to myself. I was baffled and a confused soul.

“Dear Aarthi…” I wrote after five full minutes of contemplating.

“Goddamn it!” I cursed my self. “Dear Aarthi…” was way too formal. I crumpled the paper and threw it in the dustbin.

Then I thought “Dearest Aarthi…” and wrote it on the sheet of paper.

No way! Rule no 1: Never try too hard to please a girl. Be natural.

Then that sheet of paper too ended in the dustbin. I thought to myself and again wrote “Aarthi, my love”. Wasn’t that overly romantic? I didn’t really know. Without thinking much, I crumpled that paper and threw into the dustbin.

I was getting frustrated. Why don’t they accept the proposal just like that? I guess it’s one of the Rules of chicks ‘When a boy proposes to you, never accept it immediately’

Finally on a new sheet of paper I wrote, “My love”. This sounded better and I was finally convinced. Now I started writing the body of the letter.

“You are one of the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen…” I stopped writing and analyzed the sentence. No ways! Sheela was more beautiful than Aarthi. Love letter should always be honest. So I threw the paper again.

I changed the whole format I wrote “Dearest, Its not that I think you are the most beautiful girl in this world. There are certainly many babes around, but whenever I see you or talk to you or simply be with you or hear your voice or look at those beautiful eyes and many other things I can’t mention, my mind attains its state of tranquility. You are not the girl of my dreams, but the girl of my life, my reality”

After all these attempts I felicitated myself “wah! Splendid!” But soon I got skeptical. “There are certainly many babes around...?” No. What was I thinking? This wasn’t working out right. I again crumpled the paper and threw into the dustbin, Lebron James type. Wohoo!! It was a two pointer.

Three hours passed and dustbin was filling up. None of the letter was worthy enough to make it inside envelope. Finally even the envelope ended in the dustbin. I knew she too had feelings for me. But even she couldn’t have helped it I guess. She was bound by the rules.

I had given up. No more of this love letter business. It’s not my cup of tea. Then, I threw all my paper in dustbin and cleared the table. I was in deep somnolence and started walking back to my bed.

Suddenly something flashed to my mind, and I did the Unthinkable.

3.

Next day I got message from Aarthi that she would be arriving to my room at 6pm. I combed my hair, wore cologne, my favorite t-shirt and jeans, and waited for her with curbed breath. I knew she was going to blast me. But it didn’t matter to me because, I had tried my best, and this is all I can do.

The previous day, I had mailed her a package. I had decorated it with lot of embellishments too. And in it, were all the crumpled balls of paper – the proof of my futile attempts to write her a love letter. That was my idea of telling her that I had tried my best. I think probably no boy in this world has ever tried to do as crazy as a thing like this. Now which boy wants his girl to read the trial versions of his love letter?! Well, I was an exception. This would go down in the history of love letter writing, I was sure. An example of what a boy shouldn’t do – should never do.

I was about to be proved wrong.

Aarthi came to my room and didn’t utter a single word. In my attempt to impress her I had forgotten to clean my room. Clothes, DVDs, CDs, empty beer bottles, etc. everything were thrown around. My room was at its filthiest best.

I picked up my clothes and made some space for her. Then I went to pick up empty beer bottles and she stopped me “That’s alright.”

We sat diagonally opposite to each other. I knew she was furious for what I did “Listen Aarthi, I’m really sorry for what I did. I couldn’t think straight. You know I’m very straight guy… Damn! Of course I’m straight. I mean writing love letter is not of my type you know. I tried my level best. I know I’m not romantic enough to.. “

"Who said you are not romantic?” she said, cutting me off.

“Huh??” I was flabbergasted.

“You know, if you had written a flowery love letter for me, I would have surely puked.” She said.

“But… but you said me to write one!”

“Well, I was curious to know of course. Even if you’d told me directly that you were not going to try it, I’d not have bothered”

I arched my brows, I crinkled my eyes, I frowned, I smirked, I scratched my head – I was utterly baffled.

She giggled.

“Hmm… so you read all those I sent you? Please tell me you didn’t.” I finally said thinking by sending that package I did a big mistake.

“Yes, I read all the forty-two attempts.” She said and laughed.

Oh damn! What have I done?!

She moved closer to me and said “You know what; when one writes a love letter, his true feelings are manifested on those papers that end up in a wastebasket. The final edition is always sugary, but unfortunately, it isn’t sweet. It’s just a vague attempt to impress the reader. A girl like me can easily look through it. I am fortunate to have known what you really feel about me,” she stopped for a moment and then continued, “And I don’t think you’ll ever be able say those things you desperately tried to say in those letters. I am perfectly ok with it,” she said, ruffling my hair.

I sat there speechless. She smiled. And what a smile it was! Her full scarlet lips broke into a beautiful curve as a twinkle came into her forget-me-not eyes. It was similar to seeing a red rose blooming on an early dew-filled morning

Then she gave a winsome smile and asked me “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

I struck a pose by cradling my chin with my thumb and forefinger, and said, “Well, is it necessary?”

“Well, I think not,” she said and gave me a wink.

******************** The end *************************

Escape from the Reality! (Part-1)

He could feel his heart beating. His hands were swithering as he could see nothing in front of him. He was standing at the edge of the Tippu Drop, Nandi Hills. The gushy air current hit his face and he could feel the death calling him. He had given all his hopes and had made up his mind to leave this wonderful world. He was just 20yrs like me and you. He was stranded in apathy and could envision the entire bad things happened to him recently. He knew his time had come. With shivering legs he moved his right leg forward... Suddenly he could hear a harsh voice coming from behind.

"Hey you! stop right there my son. What do you think you are doing?"

To his bewilderment he turned back and saw a man in his late 70's wearing a monkey cap covering his ears, baggy jeans, striped shirt which was bit torn here and there and worn out shoe.

"Stop right there old man! Don't you dare to come near me. I've decided not to live in this world anymore. You cannot stop me.. just go away."

"Alright Daksh. I'm not going to stop y0u. Why don't you procrastinate your suicidal attempt and talk to me for few minutes."

He was dumbfounded and his mind was thunderstruck.
"What the hell! How in this earth did you get to know my name?" awestruck Daksh asked the old man.

"Calm down my son. I know everyone's name is this world. I'm the one who created you." man said in his gentle voice.

"You think I'm gone mad here?? Someone just stops me before I jump and tells he is a god. Am I looking like a lunatic person to you?" said Daksh angrily.

Without raising his voice the man continued "Daksh, I'm lord Brahma. I'm the one who created mankind and this huge universe."

Daksh burst out laughing "hahaha.. Lord brahma??" pointing to him "Lord brahma in this attire with torn out baggy jeans?? hahaha.. now where are your other faces? Is it virtually hidden?"

Brahma without getting tempestuous "Son! Why do you believe what others say? Have you ever seen brahma with your naked eye before? People just assume things and write it. Can you show me evidence that brahma existed with four heads? Its all bullshit. Its me, the cool dude lord brahma!"

Daksh amused by brahma's words "wow! can't really believe. I'm really gonna become a maniac. hahaha.." his eyes rolled and sat there awestricken.

Brahma asked "Now Daksh tell me why were you trying something of this sort with your life? What made you do this?" with his eyebrows raised.

"I don't know. I mean there's lot of things which are frustrating me. This sick society, Corrupted politicians, frauds, cheaters, and beguilers. Last week I had participated in University level Debate competition. I had given my best shot and was well appreciated too. But the prize went to the college who hosted this event. I had seen that guy's performance, he was stammering a lot and didn't even deserve a prize. Judges, prize.. oh god.. everything is fixed and rigged up. I attended a placement interview and everyone were quite impressed the way I handled the proceedings. But later, voila! 'better luck next time'.. this is what I got. The girl whom I loved so much betrayed me. Politicians are corrupted, everyone thinks for their own benefit, I hate my country. This is not going to change or rather no is going to change. I can never sustain in this society with dignity. Even my kids might end up one day being a terrorist. I want to end here itself." Daksh with his disgruntled voice, threw a stone and started to weep.

Brahma said "Son, Come out of your misconceptions. Don't blame the society or politicians or people, blame yourself. You cannot change the things around you. Even if you become president or prime minister, you cannot fully change the minds of people. The change should be within you. First you should change and start thinking positively. You should spread the positive energy among everyone. Isn't there any single thing which has made you happy with your life? Aren't there any moments you would like to cherish every moment?? Have you thought about your mom and dad? They love you each and every single moment."

Daksh stopped him "Its not about me. I cannot survive in this bought, debased, corrupted and profaned community. May be I'm not suitable for this world. My intellectuals are completely different. huh!" sighed.

"This is the balance of nature. Good and Bad co-exist. You've to experience everything in your life the way it comes. Death should come in search of you. You shouldn't be going in search of death. Wake up my son, there is lot to achieve in this world for you. Okay, I know what you are still thinking. Just close your eyes." brahma said this and started muttering something.

contd...