What surprised Kamini was the fact that even the realization of not being disgusted about it today didn’t surprise her – as if she had known all along it would come down to this. What seemed like torture, an unbearable ordeal until a couple of weeks ago was nothing more than a job for her today, a task she had to perform to get Karan out. Yes the fact that she hadn’t come to visit the police officer and pay him her respects last Tuesday and Thursday guaranteed the fact that this last encounter was especially going to be something she’d carry the scars of for a long time – but it was the last time after all. And she was ready for it.
And yet somewhere deep down she knew – that wasn’t the only reason she felt different about it. Point in fact, that was not one of the reasons at all – although there were several others. Like the fact that the police officer had grown milder and didn’t hurt her anymore; and the fact that there were no subordinates placed outside the cabin to keep a watch; and the fact that the cabin to which she had been coming twice a week, every week for the past seven months itself seemed a little cleaner now than the first time she had entered it and laid down on its dirt laden floor, squeezing her eyes shut as she tried to ignore the stench of her surroundings or the pressure of the police officer’s body on her own – chanting incessantly in her mind ‘I am doing this for you Karan, I am doing this for you my love…’
Whether the subordinates were relieved of their duty to save her the embarrassment, or to prevent them from lusting her she’d never know. But yes, there was an unmistakable change in the police officer’s demeanor over the past couple of weeks.
And still nothing in the world could ever make her think of any other man even for a moment – or so she thought until two weeks ago.
The police officer heard a rap on the door.
‘Come in.’
The door opened. Kamini stepped inside. She shut the door behind her and began to unbutton her shirt.
‘That won’t be necessary.’
Kamini froze. Her hands dropped to her sides as she looked at the police officer.
‘Sit,’ he said without looking at her.
That’s when she looked around and realized – the place had been thoroughly cleaned. There were clean sheets on the cot; the junk was gone, and there were wild flowers on the table.
Kamini tried to absorb her surroundings, still rooted to the spot where she was standing since she came in.
‘Sometimes you can’t explain why you do or don’t do things in life,’ the police officer began. ‘But what you can at least try to do is understand situations – for they are the fact. Not like your emotions – something that even you yourself can’t be sure of at times.’ Pause. ‘I fucked you – I fucked you over damn hard. But I had my reasons, twisted as they were and still are.’
‘Just as you made me construct and come up with mine to comply with your demands,’ Kamini thought, as she recalled the day Karan had been dragged by his arms by two of the police officers subordinates and dropped onto his chair across the counter. She had sat and watched him bleed and cry, slipping in and out of consciousness, as the officer’s voice rang in her ears – ‘You just wait and watch what I do to your sweetheart now.’
‘I am not going to try and explain or justify what I did,’ the police officer continued, ‘for it can’t be explained or justified.’
Kamini waited for him to go on.
‘That’s all.’
Pause.
‘You may leave.’
‘But what if I don’t want to?’
The police officer glanced at Kamini. Her face was blank – at least it didn’t look like she had just said the words he thought she had.
‘I think – did you just –‘
‘Yes.’
Kamini’s posture was still absolutely composed and calm, and self assured, and everything that her voice was not – which was insecure, sad and hurt.
‘Twisted as they were and still are, you had your reasons. But what reason did Karan have to call me a whore?’ Kamini said.
The police officer got up from his chair and walked over to Kamini. He allowed himself to look at her for the first time since she had come. He saw her shirt was still unbuttoned – but the bosom that awakened his deepest, fierce desires didn’t even tempt him today. He slowly pulled her shirt together and buttoned it up. Kamini didn’t move even as he finished. He hesitated for a moment, and then lifted her face to look at her – and the sight stabbed him.
For he was looking into the eyes of a woman defeated and crushed beyond he thought was possible. The faith, the determination that the big black beady eyes had carried all these weeks and which drove him mad and to the extreme were now replaced with a sadness that was unthought-of to ever be able to be possessed by them.
‘Kamini!’ he exclaimed.
And their lips locked in the most passionate kiss ever.
And the passion was on both sides.
Tears streamed down Kamini's eyes – the tears she had fought back all this while, and which she knew were to betray her as she faced the police officer today. He tore himself apart from her and looked at her face again. And he pulled her close again and put his arms around her and held her as she cried and cried.
– x – x –
She looked at the man coming out of the door.
He smiled at her.
Her mouth curved in a semi smile.
He walked upto her and hugged her. He had gone over this moment in his head scores of times since he entered the prison cell, and every time she went away after their visit, and every night he slept. He had gone over it while eating his food, while exercising, while being beaten…
But it didn’t feel anything like it was supposed to.
And he knew what he had done.
His embrace loosened slowly.
His arms dropped.
And he watched her as she slowly walked away…
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
ESSENCE OF EX-ES
‘so…’
‘no Sojwala is not here…’
‘oh come on…’
‘no yar… we just got back na… I don’t want to go anywhere now…’
‘ok the beer’s getting to you…’
‘come on!’
‘what come on! You were the one who said you don’t want to go anywhere!’
‘I know, m just sayin we’ll go chat in my room… mom, dad, bro are not used to this kinda stuff…’
‘why they never had a best friend?’
‘maybe they did. I dunno… we never talked…’
‘my god! How have you been managing to keep mum past 20 years!’
‘it wouldn’t be so difficult for anyone you know, if they had my family.’
‘oh well, to each his own…’
‘her own, you mean…’
‘are you sure? Why does it have to be ‘his’ or ‘her’ all the time?’
‘yeah like we don’t know ‘they’ exist too…’
‘god is the beer getting the better of us or what…’
‘how would god know?’
‘god knows…’
‘no he doesn’t! he wasn’t there lifting up his glass n saying cheers to us!’
‘oh he was… didn’t you see mutthu?’
‘oh mutthu darling… don’t you remind me of that devil…’
‘and his devilicious smile…’
‘MUTTHU! MARRY ME!’
‘oh he might just say yes…’
‘is he single?’
‘oh yes…’
‘you bitch! Why didn’t you tell me before?’
‘cos then you’d go be the bitch right there and then!’
‘n what is wrong with that?’
‘nothing really…’
‘give me your mobile.’
‘I don’t have his number…’
‘n you call yourself my best friend! You can’t even hook me up!’
‘whatever…’
‘god… I can’t stop thinking of him…’
‘hmm I can’t stop thinking of him too…’
‘lay off woman! He is mine…’
‘sure…’
‘oh by the way… give me the bill, we need to split it.’
‘gosh! The beer was on the house!’
‘now you are really drunk darling…’
‘you know…’
‘yeah I do.’
‘what?’
‘a lot of things…’
‘go on… tell me one…’
‘I know you are my best friend…’
(Kissing sound)
‘yeah… ever the bitches, aren’t we…’
(Laughter)
‘you know, I know something too…’
‘what?’
‘we’re drunk and talking shit.’
‘oh no we are not!’
‘come on! Of course we are drunk!’
‘yeah we are, but we are not talking shit…’
‘prove it…’
‘well, sameer does really not love me… its true.’
(Silence)
‘and I don’t love him either.’
‘oh now you are talking shit.’
‘no.’
(Silence)
‘well good for you then…’
‘now you are talking shit. This isn’t good for me… its not. In fact it’s a total 100% complete the opposite of good for me.’
(Silence)
‘well you know… that is actually feeling good.’
‘what? Talking shit?’
‘no. accepting it.’
‘shit.’
‘what?’
‘you are losing the whole essence of our evening…’
‘what essence?’
‘getting drunk… talking shit about our ex-es…’
‘well we are, aren’t we?’
‘we are?’
‘yes.’
‘how? Enlighten me!’
‘aren’t they in deep shit that they’re our ‘ex-es’ already?’
(Laughter)
‘yeah…maybe you’re right.’
‘I’m always right!’
(More laughter… and ribaldry of course…)
‘no Sojwala is not here…’
‘oh come on…’
‘no yar… we just got back na… I don’t want to go anywhere now…’
‘ok the beer’s getting to you…’
‘come on!’
‘what come on! You were the one who said you don’t want to go anywhere!’
‘I know, m just sayin we’ll go chat in my room… mom, dad, bro are not used to this kinda stuff…’
‘why they never had a best friend?’
‘maybe they did. I dunno… we never talked…’
‘my god! How have you been managing to keep mum past 20 years!’
‘it wouldn’t be so difficult for anyone you know, if they had my family.’
‘oh well, to each his own…’
‘her own, you mean…’
‘are you sure? Why does it have to be ‘his’ or ‘her’ all the time?’
‘yeah like we don’t know ‘they’ exist too…’
‘god is the beer getting the better of us or what…’
‘how would god know?’
‘god knows…’
‘no he doesn’t! he wasn’t there lifting up his glass n saying cheers to us!’
‘oh he was… didn’t you see mutthu?’
‘oh mutthu darling… don’t you remind me of that devil…’
‘and his devilicious smile…’
‘MUTTHU! MARRY ME!’
‘oh he might just say yes…’
‘is he single?’
‘oh yes…’
‘you bitch! Why didn’t you tell me before?’
‘cos then you’d go be the bitch right there and then!’
‘n what is wrong with that?’
‘nothing really…’
‘give me your mobile.’
‘I don’t have his number…’
‘n you call yourself my best friend! You can’t even hook me up!’
‘whatever…’
‘god… I can’t stop thinking of him…’
‘hmm I can’t stop thinking of him too…’
‘lay off woman! He is mine…’
‘sure…’
‘oh by the way… give me the bill, we need to split it.’
‘gosh! The beer was on the house!’
‘now you are really drunk darling…’
‘you know…’
‘yeah I do.’
‘what?’
‘a lot of things…’
‘go on… tell me one…’
‘I know you are my best friend…’
(Kissing sound)
‘yeah… ever the bitches, aren’t we…’
(Laughter)
‘you know, I know something too…’
‘what?’
‘we’re drunk and talking shit.’
‘oh no we are not!’
‘come on! Of course we are drunk!’
‘yeah we are, but we are not talking shit…’
‘prove it…’
‘well, sameer does really not love me… its true.’
(Silence)
‘and I don’t love him either.’
‘oh now you are talking shit.’
‘no.’
(Silence)
‘well good for you then…’
‘now you are talking shit. This isn’t good for me… its not. In fact it’s a total 100% complete the opposite of good for me.’
(Silence)
‘well you know… that is actually feeling good.’
‘what? Talking shit?’
‘no. accepting it.’
‘shit.’
‘what?’
‘you are losing the whole essence of our evening…’
‘what essence?’
‘getting drunk… talking shit about our ex-es…’
‘well we are, aren’t we?’
‘we are?’
‘yes.’
‘how? Enlighten me!’
‘aren’t they in deep shit that they’re our ‘ex-es’ already?’
(Laughter)
‘yeah…maybe you’re right.’
‘I’m always right!’
(More laughter… and ribaldry of course…)
Thursday, July 16, 2009
LUCK BY CHANCE
Ever wondered why we just lose touch with some of the best people we meet, and yet stick to some others we don’t really want to...? Some people you just tend to not be able to get rid off, in spite of a thousand things that happened… and some people – they come in our lives for a short while, and then just disappear. And we never see them again…
Do you believe in karma? Fate? Destiny? Luck? I do… I think everything that happens in our life has at least a little to do with either or all of these things. At least the part about meeting the right people at the right time – or even the wrong ones at the right time – at least the part about who we meet in life, get in touch with, befriend or don’t has got a lot to do with either or all of these things.
What triggered me to rant about all these things right now, you ask/wonder? Like everything else – or most other things – that I rant about it, this train of thoughts was triggered by what me and a friend of mine went through recently…
He was an online friend... but someone I went to school with for a couple of years, until he changed school. We were pretty dormant for a while... there in each other’s friend-lists, but conspicuous by our absence in each other’s scrapbooks – which is to say we hadn’t really ever had a conversation, or so much as even exchanged a few words online. Then one day we just hit it off – just like that – and got along so well, we wondered why we hadn’t done this before!
Now in a short time we got along really well – with similar interests, same zodiac signs, roughly the same attitudes in general, same experiences as school kids... you get the drift, ya? Then one day he told me about this friend of his that he had had a big row with and was not talking to since a very long time. I having gone through similar situation just a few months back, felt really bad for the two of them. With considerable possibility of sounding like a Grandma, or like a ‘been-there-done-that’, I am going to say that, I know what it is like to lose a best friend. So I kind of tried to persuade him to talk to his friend. Of course I didn’t do it too passionately, just a little elbowing, if you know what I mean... but nonetheless, it worked. The next time his friend was online, my friend talked to her, and they talked and talked and talked. And the bitterness dissolved somewhere in between, and they became friends again.
And as if that completed my role in his life, the very next day my friend sent me an e-mail, to which I gave a strange funny reply, and then we had a fight, and he chose to break it up. And I didn’t resist.
It seemed so strange to me at the time it happened, that I didn’t know what to make of this whole thing. The way I had reacted to his mail was not me – that person writing a reply to his mail was not me. The person who spoke to him when he called after reading my mail was not me. The things I said were not my thoughts! It was incomprehensible. I don’t give up on people so easily, never on friends at least! But with him, I let go like I never knew him.
As you sow, so shall you reap; tit for tat; karma – there’s a lot of ways to say it, but it all means the same thing. But sometimes it is beyond our control to explain things that happen around us, things that happen to us. I have had and lost some of the best friends life can give anyone... but one thing I have learnt from all this is to not feel bad if at some point of time, someone just drifts away from you – or rather when people leave – and to not try and hold on to them when they do drift away or leave. Of course there is a difference between trying to make a friendship – or any relationship – work out, and to cling onto something that’s already not working out. We are all after all instruments who carry out, work for and work against each other’s destiny’s... all of it, or part of it. Sometimes people enter in our lives only to make us experience or face or go through something, and that is all that their role is in our lives... our paths stick along as long as this purpose is fulfilled, and then, life just moves on. Sometimes we are meant to be cheated by our most trusted people, or be surprised by the most unexpected… or even be loved by the ones that we never thought would give us a thought, or someone we’d never give a thought to ourselves... that’s just how it is, nothing official about it!
But if there’s someone out there, keeping an account of all this, phew! He’s gotta be one hell of a mathematician...
Do you believe in karma? Fate? Destiny? Luck? I do… I think everything that happens in our life has at least a little to do with either or all of these things. At least the part about meeting the right people at the right time – or even the wrong ones at the right time – at least the part about who we meet in life, get in touch with, befriend or don’t has got a lot to do with either or all of these things.
What triggered me to rant about all these things right now, you ask/wonder? Like everything else – or most other things – that I rant about it, this train of thoughts was triggered by what me and a friend of mine went through recently…
He was an online friend... but someone I went to school with for a couple of years, until he changed school. We were pretty dormant for a while... there in each other’s friend-lists, but conspicuous by our absence in each other’s scrapbooks – which is to say we hadn’t really ever had a conversation, or so much as even exchanged a few words online. Then one day we just hit it off – just like that – and got along so well, we wondered why we hadn’t done this before!
Now in a short time we got along really well – with similar interests, same zodiac signs, roughly the same attitudes in general, same experiences as school kids... you get the drift, ya? Then one day he told me about this friend of his that he had had a big row with and was not talking to since a very long time. I having gone through similar situation just a few months back, felt really bad for the two of them. With considerable possibility of sounding like a Grandma, or like a ‘been-there-done-that’, I am going to say that, I know what it is like to lose a best friend. So I kind of tried to persuade him to talk to his friend. Of course I didn’t do it too passionately, just a little elbowing, if you know what I mean... but nonetheless, it worked. The next time his friend was online, my friend talked to her, and they talked and talked and talked. And the bitterness dissolved somewhere in between, and they became friends again.
And as if that completed my role in his life, the very next day my friend sent me an e-mail, to which I gave a strange funny reply, and then we had a fight, and he chose to break it up. And I didn’t resist.
It seemed so strange to me at the time it happened, that I didn’t know what to make of this whole thing. The way I had reacted to his mail was not me – that person writing a reply to his mail was not me. The person who spoke to him when he called after reading my mail was not me. The things I said were not my thoughts! It was incomprehensible. I don’t give up on people so easily, never on friends at least! But with him, I let go like I never knew him.
As you sow, so shall you reap; tit for tat; karma – there’s a lot of ways to say it, but it all means the same thing. But sometimes it is beyond our control to explain things that happen around us, things that happen to us. I have had and lost some of the best friends life can give anyone... but one thing I have learnt from all this is to not feel bad if at some point of time, someone just drifts away from you – or rather when people leave – and to not try and hold on to them when they do drift away or leave. Of course there is a difference between trying to make a friendship – or any relationship – work out, and to cling onto something that’s already not working out. We are all after all instruments who carry out, work for and work against each other’s destiny’s... all of it, or part of it. Sometimes people enter in our lives only to make us experience or face or go through something, and that is all that their role is in our lives... our paths stick along as long as this purpose is fulfilled, and then, life just moves on. Sometimes we are meant to be cheated by our most trusted people, or be surprised by the most unexpected… or even be loved by the ones that we never thought would give us a thought, or someone we’d never give a thought to ourselves... that’s just how it is, nothing official about it!
But if there’s someone out there, keeping an account of all this, phew! He’s gotta be one hell of a mathematician...
Thursday, May 28, 2009
ON BODY ODOR, LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT AND SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST...
Came across a rather interesting article in the paper a couple of days back that said something like: men and women are attracted to each other depending on the smell of their sweat; or rather body odor. I am sure many of you will react to this by saying: duh, doesn’t everybody know that by now? But what really caught my attention was that scientists believe it is the genes located in the HLA Complex – Human Leucocyte Antigen Complex – that play the key role of finding our ‘true love’ for us... (For all the non-Biology students: the HLA Complex is concerned with the immune system of man; and that is all I am going to say here… it would take me eons to explain how and why! Google it... :) )
Chemistry of attraction, eh?
This kinda explains why there might be instant attraction towards a girl who is not necessarily breath-takingly beautiful, or a guy who is not Brad Pitt. (Although let me please mention here – and I do NOT care what you think – I DON’T like Brad Pitt. I think he looks nice, and acts decent. But I will not drool if ever I find myself standing in front of him.)
This also somehow explains the age old concept of ‘love at first sight’ (only it should be love at first ‘smell’!)...
But pray, how does this explain falling in love with someone you haven’t ever met in person?
Like maybe someone you met on a social networking website maybe?
Or someone you saw at a party???
Crazy man... really...
After the first read, I casually joked about the article with my Dad (yeah yeah, he is a very cool person I have no problem discussing sex with... :) ) and then totally forgot all about it... until today when I saw a Marathi Film not really related to the issue, but which had physical relations playing a major role in the story. (I won’t mention the name of the movie; but if you know me personally, and if your curiosity gets the better of you, contact me!)
‘Shevati donach goshti/bhavana kharya... pot ani chambdi.’
(In the end, only 2 things matter... hunger and sex.)
Is it really so?
If one really thinks very objectively about this whole ‘falling in love’ business, then it is all only about finding the right match, or the ‘most-fit mate’ for yourself, so that you can be sure your species isn’t gonna go extinct, and that your off-springs shall be fit and healthy and shall survive; and even science can be said to have proved it (according to the article I just mentioned about... you know, HLA - immune system - body odor - falling in love – love at first sight etc etc...) Does this reduce all the feelings, emotions, love, attachment, affection, attraction, and scores of other things we feel for our partners to just the skin? And just sex? And if ‘yes’ then who are better-off? The ‘good guys’? Or the ‘flirts’, the ‘chaplus’ guys, the ‘romeos’, the ‘Casanovas’, as they are variously called, who have only one thing on their mind?
Probably all this emotion-play came into being to keep us engaged! They say guys like the chase... girls like the suave ones... unpredictability... mysteriousness... this, that... falana-dimka... imagine if all this was gone, and finding ‘the right one’ was reduced down to one sniff... we’d be really bored! With all the ‘worldly comforts’, inventions or whatever, taking care of all the things we have to do, we’d be left with a horrible amount of free time and nothing to do!
I guess that’s why, we need ‘sex with ALL strings attached’... rather than with no string attached!
Chemistry of attraction, eh?
This kinda explains why there might be instant attraction towards a girl who is not necessarily breath-takingly beautiful, or a guy who is not Brad Pitt. (Although let me please mention here – and I do NOT care what you think – I DON’T like Brad Pitt. I think he looks nice, and acts decent. But I will not drool if ever I find myself standing in front of him.)
This also somehow explains the age old concept of ‘love at first sight’ (only it should be love at first ‘smell’!)...
But pray, how does this explain falling in love with someone you haven’t ever met in person?
Like maybe someone you met on a social networking website maybe?
Or someone you saw at a party???
Crazy man... really...
After the first read, I casually joked about the article with my Dad (yeah yeah, he is a very cool person I have no problem discussing sex with... :) ) and then totally forgot all about it... until today when I saw a Marathi Film not really related to the issue, but which had physical relations playing a major role in the story. (I won’t mention the name of the movie; but if you know me personally, and if your curiosity gets the better of you, contact me!)
‘Shevati donach goshti/bhavana kharya... pot ani chambdi.’
(In the end, only 2 things matter... hunger and sex.)
Is it really so?
If one really thinks very objectively about this whole ‘falling in love’ business, then it is all only about finding the right match, or the ‘most-fit mate’ for yourself, so that you can be sure your species isn’t gonna go extinct, and that your off-springs shall be fit and healthy and shall survive; and even science can be said to have proved it (according to the article I just mentioned about... you know, HLA - immune system - body odor - falling in love – love at first sight etc etc...) Does this reduce all the feelings, emotions, love, attachment, affection, attraction, and scores of other things we feel for our partners to just the skin? And just sex? And if ‘yes’ then who are better-off? The ‘good guys’? Or the ‘flirts’, the ‘chaplus’ guys, the ‘romeos’, the ‘Casanovas’, as they are variously called, who have only one thing on their mind?
Probably all this emotion-play came into being to keep us engaged! They say guys like the chase... girls like the suave ones... unpredictability... mysteriousness... this, that... falana-dimka... imagine if all this was gone, and finding ‘the right one’ was reduced down to one sniff... we’d be really bored! With all the ‘worldly comforts’, inventions or whatever, taking care of all the things we have to do, we’d be left with a horrible amount of free time and nothing to do!
I guess that’s why, we need ‘sex with ALL strings attached’... rather than with no string attached!
Thursday, May 14, 2009
OF STOLEN KISSES...
My legs are aching out of wearing high-heeled footwear for so long. Not that I particularly like high-heels, but I had to match him. The heels reduced our height difference from 7 inches to 5. Not much, I know, but still better.
We reach the apartment and park the bike in the parking.
My heart sinks, for I know his mother and sister and brother will be upstairs, and we will have to go back to being ‘polite’ in front of each other... not carefree and bindaas anymore... and not even slightly romantic. Not that we are going around... but I guess we are at least heading towards it.
The thought of climbing up the stairs makes my legs ache even more, although his flat is only on the first floor. I sigh.
‘Is your tongue still heavy?’ he asks.
We have just had coffee in Barista; and mine was sinfully strong and bitter and without sugar – the exact way I like it – but with two scoops of Vanilla ice-cream. My tongue had become a bit numb in the café with all that ice-cream, and we had had ourselves a big laugh with me trying my best to say my name properly.
‘No! Its fine now. It doesn’t stay that way for too long.’
‘Really?’ he asks.
‘Yeah,’ I say.
‘How about we find out?’ he says.
And the next moment he has pulled me into his arms and is kissing me like there is never going to be a tomorrow.
I am zapped.
I lose balance.
He catches me and holds me up against the wall.
I am breathless.
He lets go of me, looks into my eyes, and smiles... only for a second... his smile one of triumph, challenge, and extremely coy... all at the same time…
And then he starts walking up the stairs again... as if nothing happened.
And I am left begging for more...
We reach the apartment and park the bike in the parking.
My heart sinks, for I know his mother and sister and brother will be upstairs, and we will have to go back to being ‘polite’ in front of each other... not carefree and bindaas anymore... and not even slightly romantic. Not that we are going around... but I guess we are at least heading towards it.
The thought of climbing up the stairs makes my legs ache even more, although his flat is only on the first floor. I sigh.
‘Is your tongue still heavy?’ he asks.
We have just had coffee in Barista; and mine was sinfully strong and bitter and without sugar – the exact way I like it – but with two scoops of Vanilla ice-cream. My tongue had become a bit numb in the café with all that ice-cream, and we had had ourselves a big laugh with me trying my best to say my name properly.
‘No! Its fine now. It doesn’t stay that way for too long.’
‘Really?’ he asks.
‘Yeah,’ I say.
‘How about we find out?’ he says.
And the next moment he has pulled me into his arms and is kissing me like there is never going to be a tomorrow.
I am zapped.
I lose balance.
He catches me and holds me up against the wall.
I am breathless.
He lets go of me, looks into my eyes, and smiles... only for a second... his smile one of triumph, challenge, and extremely coy... all at the same time…
And then he starts walking up the stairs again... as if nothing happened.
And I am left begging for more...
Friday, April 24, 2009
THE PATRIOT
I drag myself to the footpath and look around me. I see my blood spattered over the road, my shirt lying soaked in blood somewhere.
I curse myself and the moment at which I had looked at the statue of my beloved leader at the crossroad. The dirt is still not gone from his face. It is splattered across his specs. My heart cringes at the sight. The statue of one of the greatest men in History – smeared by feces.
If only I had not noticed the horrific sight.
If only I had not been angered.
If only I had not tried to wipe it off.
If only it had not been the day of elections.
If only the Party who considered my very hero as their ideal had not seen me in that position…
… I wouldn’t have been lying half dead by the footpath, beaten till I could hear my own bones split within my body by the supporters of the Party and the mob.
Where had so many people poured in onto the street from at that hour of the day anyway? There was never a soul on the street every morning that I jogged on it.
I tried and tried to comprehend what had happened in the past few minutes.
‘Aye!’
I turn. I see members of the Party. I get off the statue.
‘Kay challaye?’ (What’s going on?)
The man standing ahead of the mob, hands rested on waist asks me. He could pass as a typical ‘member of XYZ Party’; dressed all in white, Kolhapuri chappals in his feet, hair gelled back and not daring to move even with the breeze, thick black moustache, with the corners purposefully turned up.
‘Kahi nahi…’ (Nothing…)
‘Kahi nahi?’ (Nothing?)
‘Ghan lagli hoti putalyala… Pusat hoto…’ (There was dirt on the statue… was wiping it off…)
One of the other men standing behind the man pulls him by his shoulder. He signals at my feet.
I look down at my feet.
The Party looks down at my feet.
My shoes are covered in shit.
I stare in disbelief.
Suddenly it comes back to me. My neighbor’s dog had done his morning job close to my house. I had stepped into it.
I panic.
‘Aho, mi kharach kahi nahi kela!’ (I really haven’t done anything!)
‘Amhala kay angutha chhaap samajlaye?’ (Do you think we are uneducated fools?)
'Aho kharach, mi nahi - ' (Trust me, i didn't - )
'Hana re haramyala!’ (Beat the bastard!)
I try to run away. But I know there is no escaping the situation.
And now here I am…
Thousands of questions cross my mind… doubts… fears… but the most overwhelming of all feelings is disappointment and sadness… at the whole situation we, as the People of our country and of the world, are in. And its not just politics I am talking about.
I look up at the sky… the sun is beginning to rise higher over the horizon.
I look back at the statue.
I will myself to get up, despite the pain.
I lean on the street-light and drag myself up. I look at the face of my favorite hero. I think of his co-workers… all great men who did things we probably can never comprehend completely.
It gives me strength.
I take a deep breath, and heave my body.
I am standing on my feet.
My legs hurt till I want to cry out loud. But I look up at the statue and smile.
I raise my hand and put it to my temples.
I salute.
I collapse.
Author's Note: it is a request that the reader view this only as a piece of creativity... there is nothing I want 'to hint at' or 'suggest'. No names of any political parties were mentioned, and I leave it upto the reader to give the statue the name of whichever leader he/she wants to give. This was just a piece that popped up in my mind, and I penned it down. Heck, I am not even interested in politics! Still if anyone's feelings were hurt, all I'll say is, it wasn't my intention...
I curse myself and the moment at which I had looked at the statue of my beloved leader at the crossroad. The dirt is still not gone from his face. It is splattered across his specs. My heart cringes at the sight. The statue of one of the greatest men in History – smeared by feces.
If only I had not noticed the horrific sight.
If only I had not been angered.
If only I had not tried to wipe it off.
If only it had not been the day of elections.
If only the Party who considered my very hero as their ideal had not seen me in that position…
… I wouldn’t have been lying half dead by the footpath, beaten till I could hear my own bones split within my body by the supporters of the Party and the mob.
Where had so many people poured in onto the street from at that hour of the day anyway? There was never a soul on the street every morning that I jogged on it.
I tried and tried to comprehend what had happened in the past few minutes.
‘Aye!’
I turn. I see members of the Party. I get off the statue.
‘Kay challaye?’ (What’s going on?)
The man standing ahead of the mob, hands rested on waist asks me. He could pass as a typical ‘member of XYZ Party’; dressed all in white, Kolhapuri chappals in his feet, hair gelled back and not daring to move even with the breeze, thick black moustache, with the corners purposefully turned up.
‘Kahi nahi…’ (Nothing…)
‘Kahi nahi?’ (Nothing?)
‘Ghan lagli hoti putalyala… Pusat hoto…’ (There was dirt on the statue… was wiping it off…)
One of the other men standing behind the man pulls him by his shoulder. He signals at my feet.
I look down at my feet.
The Party looks down at my feet.
My shoes are covered in shit.
I stare in disbelief.
Suddenly it comes back to me. My neighbor’s dog had done his morning job close to my house. I had stepped into it.
I panic.
‘Aho, mi kharach kahi nahi kela!’ (I really haven’t done anything!)
‘Amhala kay angutha chhaap samajlaye?’ (Do you think we are uneducated fools?)
'Aho kharach, mi nahi - ' (Trust me, i didn't - )
'Hana re haramyala!’ (Beat the bastard!)
I try to run away. But I know there is no escaping the situation.
And now here I am…
Thousands of questions cross my mind… doubts… fears… but the most overwhelming of all feelings is disappointment and sadness… at the whole situation we, as the People of our country and of the world, are in. And its not just politics I am talking about.
I look up at the sky… the sun is beginning to rise higher over the horizon.
I look back at the statue.
I will myself to get up, despite the pain.
I lean on the street-light and drag myself up. I look at the face of my favorite hero. I think of his co-workers… all great men who did things we probably can never comprehend completely.
It gives me strength.
I take a deep breath, and heave my body.
I am standing on my feet.
My legs hurt till I want to cry out loud. But I look up at the statue and smile.
I raise my hand and put it to my temples.
I salute.
I collapse.
Author's Note: it is a request that the reader view this only as a piece of creativity... there is nothing I want 'to hint at' or 'suggest'. No names of any political parties were mentioned, and I leave it upto the reader to give the statue the name of whichever leader he/she wants to give. This was just a piece that popped up in my mind, and I penned it down. Heck, I am not even interested in politics! Still if anyone's feelings were hurt, all I'll say is, it wasn't my intention...
Thursday, April 23, 2009
.....................
Got up at eight today morning and took to cleaning my room immediately. Dust had settled all over. I had been putting it off, waiting for exams to get over. And now that they were over, I couldn’t stand all the mess!
Started with my clothes cupboard. Then my dressing table. My bed. And lastly, my study-table. I always save it for the last. Every year, I have to think and think of how I am going to make place in my already over-full study table for the whole new stack of books. And this being my final year, I had not one, not two, but 11 reference books with no place to go! And they were only the bare minimum.
About 20 minutes later, both the cupboards to the sides of my table were open, their contents spilled out on the floor – and me spilled out somewhere between them. I looked around me and sighed heavily. Books, papers, magazines, school report cards, class photographs, pen stands by the dozen, stationery enough to go into 3 bags, novels, encyclopedia, my diaries, old greeting cards, medals, colours, paints, palette, drawing books… even charcoal, from the one time I tried to do a sketch in charcoal and ended up looking like an adivasi...
Mom came in, took one look at the mess, and burst out laughing.
‘Mom! You should help me out! Not laugh at me!’
‘I would… but you don’t want to throw any of this, or give it away… how else can I help?’
I made a face. Mom laughed.
‘Ok, I am off to Veena-maushi’s… will be back by 5.’
Mom had a lunch date with her friend that day. And dad had left early morning. I was gonna be home alone.
‘Ok, have fun!’ I said following Mom out till the door. I saw Mom walk down the stairs, and pulled the door shut and returned to my den.
I looked at all the mess and sighed again.
‘Ok! Looks like I am gonna have to throw a few things away I guess!’ I said out loud to no one ion particular.
But I just kept staring at the mess for half an hour, sitting on my bed.
I couldn’t possibly throw anything away! Each of the myriad little things lying on the floor was so important to me! And special. Each had a story behind it. Like the first piece I had knitted. Or the cards I had received from my Atya for each of my birthdays. And those pressed grass twigs in that big fat story book! I used to make greetings out of them and used to post them to all our relatives for Diwali. And how could I possibly throw away all those paintings! No way! And the Japanese Fan! The Japanese Fan I had made! The straw hat from my first dance in school... As I went through these and many other things I had even forgotten I had kept still, I thought of all the summer vacations and all the crazy things I used to do back then… from making greeting cards, to fabric painting, to pottery, to lying on my bed reading a book and listening to songs… working on a painting the whole day, and then calling all my neighbors over to see ‘my new creation’… I couldn’t remember the last time I had held a paint brush in my hand, or spent a lazy afternoon just dreaming. Each of us has a fantasy world… a world full of all of our favorite things. I had one too… in fact, I still have one. And it still is full of all things that may seem ‘childish’ or immature’… but heck, it’s my world… where anything is possible…
I looked at all the greeting cards, and read all the messages penned down for me… the last card I had received from my Atya was for my 12th birthday… why do we stop doing things like these when we ‘grow up’? We cross a certain age, and suddenly birthday cards with cake and balloons seem childish…. Or embroidering your initials on your handkerchief seems like a stupid thing to do. I was so serious about becoming a painter as a kid… and somewhere down the line; I just gave it up… for a worldlier career… why? Why do we give up on things, but still cling on to their memory?
As I cleaned my room, I ended up dusting my mind too. It was like I had met myself after a long time…
That day, I did a lot of things I had not done in years.
I started working on a painting.
I spent the afternoon reading a novel.
I made a few snacks and called my neighbors over for tea.
I even went for a walk with Dad in the evening, on the hill, and came back with a bag full of colorful odd looking stones!
And it felt amazing doing all those things…
Started with my clothes cupboard. Then my dressing table. My bed. And lastly, my study-table. I always save it for the last. Every year, I have to think and think of how I am going to make place in my already over-full study table for the whole new stack of books. And this being my final year, I had not one, not two, but 11 reference books with no place to go! And they were only the bare minimum.
About 20 minutes later, both the cupboards to the sides of my table were open, their contents spilled out on the floor – and me spilled out somewhere between them. I looked around me and sighed heavily. Books, papers, magazines, school report cards, class photographs, pen stands by the dozen, stationery enough to go into 3 bags, novels, encyclopedia, my diaries, old greeting cards, medals, colours, paints, palette, drawing books… even charcoal, from the one time I tried to do a sketch in charcoal and ended up looking like an adivasi...
Mom came in, took one look at the mess, and burst out laughing.
‘Mom! You should help me out! Not laugh at me!’
‘I would… but you don’t want to throw any of this, or give it away… how else can I help?’
I made a face. Mom laughed.
‘Ok, I am off to Veena-maushi’s… will be back by 5.’
Mom had a lunch date with her friend that day. And dad had left early morning. I was gonna be home alone.
‘Ok, have fun!’ I said following Mom out till the door. I saw Mom walk down the stairs, and pulled the door shut and returned to my den.
I looked at all the mess and sighed again.
‘Ok! Looks like I am gonna have to throw a few things away I guess!’ I said out loud to no one ion particular.
But I just kept staring at the mess for half an hour, sitting on my bed.
I couldn’t possibly throw anything away! Each of the myriad little things lying on the floor was so important to me! And special. Each had a story behind it. Like the first piece I had knitted. Or the cards I had received from my Atya for each of my birthdays. And those pressed grass twigs in that big fat story book! I used to make greetings out of them and used to post them to all our relatives for Diwali. And how could I possibly throw away all those paintings! No way! And the Japanese Fan! The Japanese Fan I had made! The straw hat from my first dance in school... As I went through these and many other things I had even forgotten I had kept still, I thought of all the summer vacations and all the crazy things I used to do back then… from making greeting cards, to fabric painting, to pottery, to lying on my bed reading a book and listening to songs… working on a painting the whole day, and then calling all my neighbors over to see ‘my new creation’… I couldn’t remember the last time I had held a paint brush in my hand, or spent a lazy afternoon just dreaming. Each of us has a fantasy world… a world full of all of our favorite things. I had one too… in fact, I still have one. And it still is full of all things that may seem ‘childish’ or immature’… but heck, it’s my world… where anything is possible…
I looked at all the greeting cards, and read all the messages penned down for me… the last card I had received from my Atya was for my 12th birthday… why do we stop doing things like these when we ‘grow up’? We cross a certain age, and suddenly birthday cards with cake and balloons seem childish…. Or embroidering your initials on your handkerchief seems like a stupid thing to do. I was so serious about becoming a painter as a kid… and somewhere down the line; I just gave it up… for a worldlier career… why? Why do we give up on things, but still cling on to their memory?
As I cleaned my room, I ended up dusting my mind too. It was like I had met myself after a long time…
That day, I did a lot of things I had not done in years.
I started working on a painting.
I spent the afternoon reading a novel.
I made a few snacks and called my neighbors over for tea.
I even went for a walk with Dad in the evening, on the hill, and came back with a bag full of colorful odd looking stones!
And it felt amazing doing all those things…
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