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.

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.

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.

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