Sunday, September 30, 2007

Pending Issue.

The tom-boy beside me,doffs my head with the heavy sociology book.

"wakey wakey, Old boy!! its afternoon." R

Of course it is afternoon.The clock behind her shows 2 pm.The 'misal paav' and 'cutlet' are burning my stomach.My tongue is parched and there is a sour acidic liquid going up and down inside of my throat. look up from my head rest to find all of them winking at me.I am in the library since 10 am,and have fallen asleep for the third time straight.

" oh boy! look at him.He is exhausted from all this studying." P snobs.

" You are not of much use in a group know that !! ", V declares solemnly..

" Well, I try my best." Not my fault if they chose a boring subject to study.

"All right then.Bye.we are off.I think you could look into those xeroxes now that you are 'refreshed' " R chides.

" what!!! You can't leave me here.Alone!!!" I've never been alone in the library after 12pm.

A week to the exams,and they do this to you.friends!!! I look around at the table.There are 7-8 sheafs of xeroxs spread across,3 notebooks lying open.Neat.No wonder,they have great arms.Carrying all these must help.well,might as well look into it. What the F@#% !! damn that mobile.Where is it?? Crap!! These idiots,@#$%&*** (can't use the original thoughts,censors)!! Can't they keep things better placed and arranged.Ha,now here it is.(The whole library is staring up from their dreamholes at me.The library assistant has an evil look in his eyes.) I hate it when people look at me like that.Better try to pretend as if i am studying.

No use! I am bored before can get to the tenth page.Let me assure you that Sociology is not a rivetting read.I turn my eyes to the entrance.You would be amused at how much you can tell about a person by the way he walks into a library.Look,That one is a 'first timer'.see how he walks suspiciously,looking all around the place.And that....well,that is a 'showoff'.Well dressed,mp3 headset still inhis ears,one small book in hand and of course,the perennial arm candy by his side.Here he comes.The genuine reader.Casually dressed,walking with the confidence of a gladiator,straight where he knows he will get what he wants.And that is a cute girl at the counter.Hey!!! hold a minute.I know her .She's tha....... Holy crap!! She spotted me.Dive H,dive!!Pretend to read.

" Hi!!! what are you doing here??" she

" aerrmm... studying." Yeah. Right!!

" Good!I just came in to do the same."

" Great.You could give me company.Probably help me out." Right son.chance pe dance kar,beta,chance pe dance.

" Ok"

Five minutes pass.I look up at her,she's studying.Ten minutes pass,I look up at her.She's still studying.I wonder what my friends would say if i told them tat i was sitting there like a loser,in front of the smartest girl in class( not a bad looker either), and kept studying sociology.Naaahhh!! I know i sound like one of those idiots in your circle,but hey,at least this is better than understanding a theory proposed fifty years ago in an unregistrable language.Ok,so here goes.

" How far have you finished your subjects?" Great question H.Mindblowing!! Your grandson would do a better job. i.e if he ever comes to life.

" Oh!! I think i've got to just revise socio,and poitical.English is lagging behind."

"Ooookaaaayy." wow.Now i know how many subjects i have,That clears it all up.

" Could you help me out with english?? Ma'm said you are a good student."

" Yeah????? well.yeah.....sure.Did ma'm really say that?" she might have.During one of her insanity spells.

"Great!! we could meet here then next week till the exams."

" Of course." Wait.... Well,what the heck!!! " Ok .You hungry??" god,let her be.

" welllll,ya.I think"

" I am done here for today.Wanna join me for lunch(what time is it? 4) My treat." Pleeeease.

" sure"

Well,and i live happily ever after.You see the library is not such a bad place to be after all.The dact remains that i have yet to start reading up on a subject,my english professor still keeps looking for me in the corridors.But at least,I have broken through.

Wednesday, September 19, 2007

The End - A fictional thought.

I can't see straight.The
tears in my eyes are blurring everything in view.The more i try not to cry,the faster they come out of my eyes.My insides are boiling.The pain is is as though a lava of hate is boiling over and threatening to spill out.I can't breathe.My head feels like a inflated balloon that is about to explode.It aches like hell.My bdy is trembling.all ican hear or think is curses.I want to gouge my eyes out,but my hands can't find them.I grab at the curtains and pull them down.The sunlight pours in on me like a pack of wolves on a lamb.

I feel everything in the room staring at though scoffing and laughing at this unusually weird behaviour of their owner.I can hear their harsh laughs.They crash against the walls of the room and echo ten folds.Hate builds within me a euphoria of rage.I slam the nearest window and it crashes into pieces.I heave and drag the TV out of its corner and tip it over the edge.It slams face first,with sparks flying through its back.The beast inside me has by now woken up.I grab my bat and vent its prowess on the stereo.It cracks open within two blows,but keeps on humming.I bring the bat down on it agin,and again and again.Until both the bat and the stereo are done for.

I am breathless but intoicated ny the rage.I put my back to the wall,feet to the back of the cupboard and push it down.The room shakes under the crash.The walls begin to tremble in fear....of me.The cupboard lies on the floor,stricken by my anger.ike a giant redwood felled by lightning.I now take the curtain rod to be my weapon.It serves the purpose.By the next blow,my computer monitor is faceless.I pick the cpu and throw it out of the window,That is how you send 20,000 rupees flying.I throw the keyboard towards the door where it stops after hitting the door with an awkward thwack.

My hands are bleeding.But i can't feel the pain.Almost senseless,I am out of my mind,out of control.The room is destroyed,my anger isn't.I turn the curtain rod on myself.I feel dizzy,but unhurt.I hold the mirror and crash my face into it.The mirror now looks as bloody as my face.Teh burning inside me has increased.I kick the sink til i stop feeling my leg.

I am in a mess.The room round me bears witness to the existence of a beast.But nothing is completely prefect,not even destruction.Not until its cause becomes its end.I pick up the kitchen knife,it shines as i hold it up against the light.A wicked shine it is.One of a deceptive nature,that can feed you as well as kill you.I hold the hilt to my neck,blade downwards.My hands tremble as i ponder over the final moments.One wish icould have had,one thing i wanted to do,or one moment that i want to live forever.Too late.

I am sitting in the hall,my body streaming in sweat.The pain has begun to creep upon me slowly,i am hurting all over.Anger and Hate - two of my worst enemies and worser of friends - took me on and beat me.The blood gusjing out of my stomach is proof of that.The world has niw slowly begun to fade.The last sight of my sinful life is that of a destroyed room crying in pain.

I wake up with as much pain as i was in,but now i am alive.Newly born.

Tuesday, September 18, 2007

Something Fishy

I got into the compartment on the run.If i had looked before,I would never have got in.A stale blast of stink hit me face first as i tried to get in.My face shrunk and nose crinkled.It was the luggage compartent and was full of fish.I realised that the train was already at its top speed and i could not get down now.So i hung around at the door.And tried to watch what exactly were the people that travelled in this compartment.

The place was full of fish and fishermen.It was 5 am in the morning and most probably they were going to deposit their catches in the market.Each one of them stank as much as the fish.My first thoughts were to get off the compartment and try to breathe,but then something stopped me.I decided to do something different.I stayed on.The air adjusted to me,and my lungs began to breathe stale air.

After i crossed Thane,a guy from inside asked me where i had to get down at.I told him that i was going to Vidvihar.He laughed and asked me to goto the passenger compartment.I said,that i can travel in this compartment too.He laughed again and said that i could,but the time i would get to college i would stink like a fish.I didn't mind.He offered me a place to sit in the corner benches,the only ones there.I sat down and glanced around.These guys were strong all right,i thought,as i watched them lift and heave those heavy,dripping baskets of fish and pass it on to people standing outside.Their black taut skin,shone as the dim sun passed his fleeting reflections on to them.Their ropy biceps and muscles working again and again,moving the baskets,shifting them to make place for more and adjusting to accomodate everyone.The man sitting next to me ,prodded me and asked why i was here.I told him i was just curious.He laughed and said why would i sit here ,when i can be happy in the air of the passengers compartment.I said,I am happy now.He asked me what i studied.I replied his question.His neighbour by now joined in and said wouldn't it mean that after another year i might be well settled in life? I looked at his curious face,dripping in oily sweat.Maybe i would be settled and then,maybe i wouldn't.How come??,he asked.

The next fifteen minutes were spent tying to explain to a group of fishermen how education and graduation does not guarantee you comfortable lifestyle in todays world.I smiled to myself.How is this happening? One moment i am not even sure of what i am supposed to do.My dad is dissappointed with me,my mom thinks i have destroyed my future and ruined all my opportunities.everything i do seems to be going wrong,my friends have lost touch with me.My neighbours deride me,college seems to be monotonous.My life is all but alive.Then suddenly i am sitting here amongst a group of fisherfolk,trying to explain to them why this world is so complicated,why my life is so destroyed.exlplaining to them why education does not guarantee wisdom.and what is the difference between wisdom and knowledge.

As i get off at the station,i am not wiser than i was before.I still don't know where i am going wrong,but i do realise that ia m wrong somewhere.I don't know how this ralisation came to me.Maybe it was the smell of that fish.Or probably the sweat of those fishermen,that made me confess to them the mistakes that i never admitted to my parents.Myabe because they were honest,and unprejudiced.Or maybe because they really wanted to know whta a by like me was doing in their compartment.I don't know,but my heart felt a lot lighter.Those hardworking,honest men had taught me something i knew but had forgotten.No matter what the day,what the season,what the time,they catch fish and sell it.that is all they know and need to know.

Maybe i should do the same too.

Monday, September 03, 2007

A Father's Son

He hobbles through the college dor at the turn of the seventh hour of the morning.He is there everyday,rain or no rain.The college has just opened.Students are flowing in trickles.Few people are bothered to have a look at him,some others consciously avoid him.His father holds him by the hand as he climbs the stairs.I never knew a boy so religiously wanting to study.He is not normal,I say.Yes,He is not normal.He is autistic.

I can only imagine the struggles he goes through everyday.To be unable to perceive things the way 'normal' people do;to face a struggle to even smile.To watch people tease you as a madman,understand it and yet being unable to reply them in the offensive.Going through that every single day,to suffer ignominy and yet face it silently.It takes courage,a whole mountain of it.I watch as his father coaxes him to climb the stairs on his own.I just can't help feeling sorry for him.But i know what stuff he is made of.To watch him wait for his son in classes,take his notes,help him study is heart rending even if you do not have a heart.

The bo hobb;es,literally,his legs twisted at vague angles.His face is masked in a smile,as though hiding his pain forever.But the pain is evident in his eyes.I tried not to stare at him,but just couldn't help it.His father noticed me and smiled.I muttered my apologies.His father waved his hand,"Oh!! That is fine.We are used to it by now." whether he meant it in a jocular way,i don't know.But that defined the amount of scrutiny that they have went through.I mustered enough courage to ask the father about the boy,I was not sure i would be able to communicate with the boy that well.His father smiled and said,"Ask him yourself". Looking at the awkwardness on my face,he decided to help me out.I watched as the boy,went through several struggling motions to spell out a few sentences in his defense.I smiled back at him.

The father was a far better speaker,and he answered a lot of my queries.Since the bell was still a quarter hour to go.I asked him if he ever rethought about the decision to put his kid through college.He smiled and said" Did you father ever tell you that you should better drop out and work??".I said "No". Then "How would I do that ?". Yes,how would he have done thata.But it would have taken a tremendous amount of faith in his father's ability and an amazing amount of patience to do it.Imagine the amount of unwanted advice,the number of neighbours laughing at your decision.Your relatives telling you it is a lost cause,your son is not 'normal'.Imagine the pain in the father's heart,the pain of his dreams shattering,the burnt feeling that is caused by watching his son sit at home while his friends go on to become doctors,lawyers etc.And knowing that your son could also have been that,if only they'd give him a little time and patience.

'Not Normal',aid the father is a universal term.It is used to describe a madman,an autist and a deaf or dumb person.As though they are abnormal.But aren't we all different?Aren't we all unique? Does the inability to express term a person normal or abnormal?Do we not all have different perceptions of the same thing? And are we not sometimes slow in grasping it?How,then,would you define normalcy?Having two hands,twolegs and every organ intact in your body and yet living on your father's income;is that normal? Or having a sever learning disability,and yet struggling to come to college everyday to learn, to compete; is that normal?I don't know.Nor does that father.But one thing he knows,and I know he knows,He will make his child study.He will let him know the world's stupidity.He will make an effort to prove his snobby relatives wrong,that his child is normal.He can learn,speak,write and read.Though a bit slowly,but he can.AND HE WILL.