My Father's Son

I know u people will be bored to death if i go through this self pitying thought one more time,but then i don't have anything else to write about.This morning i got up and had a duel with my pa.Well,that would have been usual except he said one thing that made me think again.What he said was," You are hardly the son iexpected you to be."



To analyse this we have to go way back in the past.Back to my father's past, to be more accurate.He was a very scholarly person.Of course,I haven't seen that myself.But that is what all my relatives tell me.He was the kind of mamma's boys that sit in the first benches,raise their hands to answer every one of the teacher's questions,never miss class.I beleive that is why he scowls at me everytime i am late for the first lecture(whoever gets up and reaches college for a 7 am lecture....don't even think about answering).I also heard that he was the equivalent of the students' union leader.His friend once told me,'that college might have run on a sunday if your father wanted it to.'scholar,leader,class representative....Man,i wish i was all this.On second thoughts...Nah!!



Now that is my father.Back to me.What shall i say about myself.I am every disciplinary parent's nightmare.I am never on time for my lecture,never ever study my lessons(unless u call makiing chits studying),am as dirty as is physically possible,have failed my exams twice in a row,talk convincingly,and lie even better.Prodigious talent,you may say.But my father fears me like he does cholera.Hey, I ain't superman.



I know how dissappointed he is even though he tries hard not to show it.I know,for i have been there all the time.I can imagine the joy on his face when i was born.I can picture him,holding me in his arms,promising that he would raise me like no parent had ever done.I can remember those days when he would come after doing his job and still help me with the hmework.He is a great dad.Except that he just does not know when to stop beleiving in his son.



He knew i was an average student when my ranks kept declining after the 5th standard.He knew i was way too weak in maths when i almost nearly failed in my 9th standard terminal exams.Yet,not once did he tell me that he thought that.He still continued to beleive in my ability.I wasted a lot of his money on waste pursuits.Like the cycle i bought,cost him 2000 of his salary,and never used.I still remember my mother's scolding for that.But he never wrinkled his face.



I know i have failed him in a lot of respects and that has hurt him.I know he still belives that i might be his best investment yet.But i just can't get myself to do things he wants me to do.Maybe i am too selfish,maybe i just am not sensible enough.Or maybe i just am too stubborn.But one thing i know for sure.He is still going to come home tonight and ask me if i did anything useful today.And i know that he still beleives in meAnd i hope he'll continue to do that,for that is the only reason i try to change myself.Maybe because i want to succeed in life,or maybe because i am 'My Father's Son'

Peak hour.

I am not an adventurous person.NO sirree! I am a self confessed couch potato.I do not like to embark on adventures to places unknown or even have a remote desire to conquer a distant land,unless it is inside 300 sq ft of my existence.So when i landed at my cousins place this saturday,I was least expecting an adventure.But as it all goes,i did have an adventure.

My cousin is quite a dude.We call him 'Junky'.that might explain it all.So he is one guy who cannot sit back and relax at home,even on a Sunday.He goes all out and plans a trekking trip.though not everybody in the 'youth department' was ready.Every body had something else to do,i was the only one left.So he caught up with some of his friends,and decided to drag me along.I said already,thet i am not the adventurous guy.But that does not mean i am not a guy who take chances.So i went along,half to redeem my courage in the eyes of family and partly to just get a change.

The plan was to head to the Karnala Bird Sanctuary,far away from the dirt cauldron of mumbai and its honking cars.So we woke up at 6 am on a sunday morning,caught a train to panvel(by 8:30).We picked up the other guys at vashi.They were known people,in the sense that i had seen them before but did not quite know them.So off we went.Four amateurs,high in the toxic fumes of adrenalin,in search of adventure.

We caught an ST bus from panvel to Karnala.By the time we got there,it was 11 am.So we braced ourselves for the trek.I had been to Karnala once,long back.That time i had found it comparatively easy.Well,it is easy even now,except if you know which way you are going.We walked to the "First Base" pretty easily.The atmosphere was as serene as a mumbaikar could hope for.If you can oversee the Bisleri bottles lying around and the place,the place is nature's haven.We left for our target,the fort at the peak.

The place was covered in lush greenery,result of the rains.The clear skies added to the attraction of the greenery.We stopped by a brook on the way and dipped ourselves in cool,fresh,unbottled water.Then lightning struck!! we spotted a narrow,rocky path swerving behind the place from where the brook was sprinkling from.With two in favor,and two against the vote for that path was a stalemate.Then,'junky' challenged for an adventure.And we fell for it.

From then on,what we did would never be called 'trekking'.Not in my vocabulary.It was tripping,climbing,skidding and hanging.The more we climbed,the steeper the climb became.After one hour and no peak in sight;not that we could see it with all the towering trees and creepers above us.Till we came to a point where there was no route ahead.In front of us stood a couple of huge boulders,cut through by flowing water.Up ahead,we could not see any path.Our mobiles were still catching signals,but they were useless if nobody knew where to find us.We decided to put our courage to task.We started scaling the rock-face.I grabbed a stout creeper hanging over the rock,slid my left foot into a crevice grabbed hold of the jagged eedge and pulled myself up.The process included a spasm in my stomach.I made it up.And so did the others.The path from above was worse.The mud was slippery.Even 'Adidas' shoes couldn't hold forte.We pushed and grimed our way through the sticky,slippery and steep slope.

Time was passing us by.Our reserve of water was fast emptying,without ending our unquenchable thirst.Our clothes were discolored by the mud,Hands were so grimy,that even dettol couldn't have washed it off.Then we reached another 'Dead End'.This time it was a group of bent over trees blocking our way.By now,the crew was tired,hurting and seriously doubting that we were on the right track.We looked around for voices but heard nothing other than the scream of an eagle overhead.But we never gave up hope.we bent over,backpacks and all,and searched our way out of the bushes.

That might have been the most sensible thing we did.Coz right ahead of the bushes lay a rock hewn path,which looked naturally civilised.In the sense that it bore signs that somebody had been here.Though the path was steep,our new found faith fuelled the remaining energy to banish our exhaustion.

The only signs of civilisation that we saw was a fifty feet beneath the peak.We spotted two foreigners who asked us the way back.But all my excitement of reachhing the peak was diminished by the fact that it was so crowded.It looked like a bustling udipi hotel.Though this was not the end of our journey,the fort lay 500 metres in front of us.Its flag fluttering high,inviting one and all.

We marched on.The fort greeted us with a medeival embrace of silence.As i stood above the edge of the fort's remaining walls,and peered down into the vast expanse of greenery,i felt fear,power,happiness and sorrow.All at the same time.
Fear- for having looked at how high i have come,and where i was standing.
Power - for having accomplished this in the face of every obstacle.
Happiness - for discovering that there is something within me that symbolises a fighter
Sorrow - for the thought that i have to leave this place to be ravaged over by humans like me in search of an adventure.

After admiring the beauty for a while,we started our downward trek.In our bags we carried every garbage that we had used.But the mud,sweat nad grime,that we carried in our shirts and shoes were priceless.They were the signs of our struggle.I might leave this place with an very dirty apparel and aching joints,back and musscles(that might carry over to the next few days);but i promise i will be back here someday.Not tomorrow,not the next sunday,but someday.I have to find out if nature can survive its battle against the heartless adventures of mankinds industrial zealots.

The Value Of Education

School years are probably the most important years of a students' life.He learns almost everything in his school days.From cheating in the examinations,forging parents' signatures on leave letters,escaping homework....well, almost everything.But there are things they never learn there.IN fact something they never learn is the value of education.For most of us go to schools out of compulsion.At least,I did.The reason is obvious.Who likes to go with a overloaded bag to a place where you will be locked for six hours while the sun shines outside.

When i left my school,i felt liberated.Unlike most people i never feared losing my school friends in college.But this is not about all that,This is about a strange incident that i was witness to a few days back.

I was sitting on the grounds of my school,watching kids play the same ol' game of cricket.I guess somethings never change.Some of my teachers spotted me there and called me in.School had not yet started,and most of them had just arrived.I went in through the entrance that used to shelter me during rains.I had a brief conversation spent mostly trying to convince them of what my academic reality was.Just then the 'princy' arrived.Well,she is the new 'princy',back then she used to teach me science.She smiled and asked me to come in.I tried to escape,plead and excuse myself.But it isn't easy when you have been a former favorite.(Unbeleivable.Beleive It)

I was sitting in the principal's office,when a lady entered.She was leading a little girl by her hand.The girl might have been 5-6 years old.She was dressed neatly,a bag hanging behind her back and hair partitioned in two ponytails.She was the kind of girl you look at and say "cho chweet" to.She looked a little scared,perhaps apprehensive of the dominant chair in front of her.From the first moment they entered,I knew what it was.Admission.MY principal asked me to wait outside.I obliged.

There was a huge gap in the door,which was half opened,through which i watched the entire proceedings.Teh girl kept looking at her mother all the time.The mother meanwhile,was no less scared .Well, after all this was a question pertaining the future of both of them.The principal knew this and was trying to be affable.She started by speaking in hindi to the mother.Then switched to english to the child.After a gentle prod by her mother,the child replied in as good an english as you could expect from her.after a while,i assume hon.madam chose to grant the kid admission.She turned to the mother and expressed of the same in fluent english,probably a force of habit.As it turned out,the mother was illiterate.No wonder then that she blanked.It was then the moment came.

The helpless mother first looked at the madam,then at the kid.The madam did not grasp the situation so fast,as the kid did.She explained to her mother what was to be done.That moment has left and indelible mark on my heart for the last few days.

IN that fleeting moment,the little girl learnt the value of education.She might have not learnt it,if her teachers used the rod.Not even if her father;like mine; shrieked at her for years to come.She learnt the value of her education,the price of her literacy in that moment when her illiterate mother looked around helplessly to try and know what was to be done in order to get her little girl in school.I doubt that she will ever forget her mother's helpless moment.

I was never a bad student.But yet,i became one.Not because nobody told me the importance of education,but because everybody did.That little girl just reiterated to me what my teachers tried to drill in my head.Except she knew the value of education better.

The Good,The Bad And The Ugly

It is about six o clock in the morning.The sky is still dark as it ought to be on a rainy day.My clothes are wet from walking in the drizzle.Yet that does not stop me from grabbing the window seat.MY next seat neighbour is gnarling owing my blatant refusal to down the window shutters.The chill wind searing at my face is the only thing that helps me keep awake on this journey through ennui in the mornings,as i get to college.

About five stations from my home,a very old man staggers into the train.He looks like a lost fragment from a very ancient past.HE struggles to balance his frame on his two legs and the umbrella-cum-walking stick.The gyrations of the train add to his discomfort.I get up and help him to my seat.I ask him where he is headed to,and wondering what such an old man is doing at this hour in a mumbai local train alone.He tells me he has to get down at kurla.I ask him if he is alone,for which i receive an answer in the affirmative.Me next passenger,who by now is awake,croons,"Chacha,you should not travel at this hour alone.The train is going to get very crowded in the next station.How do you think you are going to get down?" Though the question was very rude,it was poignant.I wondered what the old man was thinking when he got in.

The train is chugging at a steady pace theough locales which have begun to stir.A steady queue of people 'sitting on the tracks' is visible.The crowd inside has quadrupled in the last few stations.The ocassional squabbles have begun.The old man meanwhile is asleep.I look at him.He looks to be about eighty,at least on the better part of seventy.He is dressed in a white kurta as wrinkled as his face.His knee-length dhoti is dirty.He rests his hand on his long umbrella,the old kind.I wonder who he is.Maybe he has escaped the insults and travails of his house.Or he could be a destitute.Or maybe he isjust a newly arrived migrant.Suddenly he startles to consciousness.He looks around,and is slightly terrified of the airless vaccuum that he is caught in.He looks at me and asks if kurla is past.I negate him.After a few minutes of sitting on the fence he asks me where i am getting off.

I am caught in a fix.The old man just told me if it was possible for me to help him get down at kurla.I was already late for my class.Not that i had ever made it in time.BUt going out of my way to help an unknown septuagenerarian through the merciless mumbai crowd would be a herculean task.What if he gets injured while i try to push him through that crowd.I don't want to get into trouble.I decided it was best to slip away while the oldie was asleep.Look,I ain't very proud of this thing,but i have certin limitations.

So VDVHr arrives,and i push my way through the crowd.I land on the platform.In those few seconds,of my feet touching solid ground and the train settin into motion again;My heart went through turbulence.I was still conteplating on what i should do.THen in a flash,i decided.I got in.Pushed my way through the crowd.I don't know how i did it,but i reached the compartment.The seat was empty.Then i saw a glimpse of the dhoti standing out like a pigeon in the middle of a pack of wolves.I pushed and shoved my way through to it.

The old man is right there.He is supported on his legs by a young boy my age.I guess,he must have been in the compartment at that time.I might not have noticed him.He looks at me and smiles.The old man says,"Looks like you forgot me".I apologise sheepishly.The station comes and we help him get down.We ask him if he would find his way from here.He says yes.I trust him,I have no other choice.

Back in my lecture i think about my actions.I am not a very noble guy.In fact,if i could be classified as noble the world would be ruled by the devil.Yet I do know that what i did was despicable.Though i am a member of a NSS group,i did something that was thoroughly disgraceful.Abandon a helpless soul in his most distressed time.The boy who helped him,wasn't asked.He could've gone on without a feel of guilt in his heart.Yet he stepped up to do the job.Why?Because everyday we have a chance to do something .Make something happen.create a difference.I ran away from that chance.He didn't

The Black Board

It has been there for decades now.Ask the prof.He knows that.It is older than him.But its is seniority denied.A mute spectator of years and years of boring academia.If you thought that sitting for 48 minutes in an economics lecture was boring,imagine doing that for four long decades.Every single inch of its body is covered in chalk dust.Its framed edges are cracked.With some sides even sporting painfully etched hearts.But not a word it utters,not a sigh occassionally, or a grumble in between.It watches patiently as it has been doin for years.

My poor prof keeps droning on about micro and macro (economics),while we wander off into our sylvan world of daydreams.HE does not care.But it does.For it keeps on looking at each one of us sternly with disapproval.It knows of everything that has been taught,and of everything yet to be taught.It knows of poetry,Keats and Frost lie absorbed in it.Mathematics.Thousands of sums ahve been scrawled on its smooth black surface,only to be rubbed off and written on again.It has not missed a single lecture since it was hung in place.

History,it excels in.Every love story inside the class has taken place in front of its invisible eyes.Every clandestine meetings it knows of.It knows about the unspoken crush,and about the spoken ones that have been crushed.It knows of flings that lasted till the spring and of longer ones that endured winter.Secret meetings in an empty classroom are not possible as long a it is witness to them.But it is the most trusted secret keeper.It wont speak a word,or break anybody's heart.

It is omniscient.It knows who throws airplane onto the prof's back while he scrawls on the board.It also knows who copied from the front bencher during the examination.It has eyes that keep prying.The examiner can miss the culprit,but the culprit is not missed.But its benevolent heart won't allow it to disclose that information to the examiner.That would destroy a career.

Itis like that vast accumulation of knowledge that lies just behind you,but you never notice it.It is like that black pearl covered in chalk dust.Invisible to ordinary eyes,except those that ask earnestly.If keats was a college going student,his next ode would have included it.Alas,for the boorish human mind,it has no worth.Why you ask? Whenever my prof asks me an unanswerable question,he rebukes me with " Your mind is as empty as that blackboard".How i wish he was true.Except that the blackboard is so full that it can't reveal.Just like me.

The gentleman's game

"So,We are seven in all!"

"No,six.I ain't playing."

The moment I uttered these nonsensicallytrue lines,every eye in the sorrounding turned to me.each one of them as menacing as the next in line.The cap stepped ahead.

The Scene : A game of cricket
The Place: My friend's colony compound
The purpose:whatever you might like

"Listen up H.We need men right now.And you are one of those that i expect to stand and put your hands up.",poor fellow sounded desperate.

"But I am not good at cricket." Yes.Unfortunately,that is true.

"I don't care.It is enough that you know to play.You are in" and then there were seven.

Honestly,I didn't know what was there to be so emotional about.It is just a goddamn game.But no,people here take everything else other than life seriously.So,we marched to the ground.Seven totally uninspiring and incompetent fools.Against a team,who wouldmilk us for 250 Rupees' if we lost....(which i guess is obvious).The captain was my friend,and i had hardly expected such boisterous reception when i landed at his house.I was immediately dissapointed to know that the joy was more out of finding his 7th player than on seeing a long-lost friend.

The captain of our rival team walks...nay,swaggers to the centre of the pitch.He is a pretty good player.I can deduce as much when a 6ft 2 guy with the perfect built walks near you.We are ready for the toss.The coin goes up,we call tail.And we win....the toss.

So jock looks at my freind(though i doubt i should call him that after all this) and asks

"New guy?Where did ya catch him?" right!from the Byculla zoo.Why?Do i look familiar.

"Oh!He is an old friend.Pretty good with the bat." What?????Wha the...who in.....why did.....AAArghhh!

My cap turns to me and throws his gloves to me."You open"

"But .....I am really not good at this."

" That is ok.We got backup." how reassuring,thanx a mile cap.

So i walk out to the field.The guy at the other end is as nervous as i am.I loosen up myself.check out the field settings.Take'my guard' and ask for divine intervention.

I would have posted the entire details of the match,but i guess the story of my batting is a summary of it all.We didn't have much fielding to do....OOpps!Did i give away the climax.

The first ball.A beauty.Pitches on good length.Has a late swing to outside offstump.I do the perfectly precise demo of 'how to leave such balls'

The second delivery.Pitches in line.On full.I dig deep and manage to keep it away from my stumps.

The third.It gets interesting from now on.Pitches short.Rises to my shoulder length on the offside.I rise up on my toes.Flash my blade at it.Sehwag style...the good lord bless him.The ball flies over third man.to the boundary.Rejoiced and jubilated,i look around.My runner is walking towards me like a zombie.My cap is staring open mouthed at me.The rest are happy.

The bowler is now furious.He runs into his work with renewed vigour.The fourth ball,is almost similar.The ball pitches in 'my zone'.I go for a straight drive.The ball just delays itself.It moves after i am fully into the shot.The next moment,a searing pain rises to my head from my ...eeehhhhmmmm area.I just can't breathe.

Now,I am furious.I get up.Take a deep breath,and ready for the next one.The ball is a 'lollipop'.
I just push it towards fine leg and scamper a single.

My partner lasts the next ball.I regain strike for the next over.

New bowler.Surprise...this is the cap himself.He looks menacing.He looks determined to take my wicket.He marks his runup

The first delivery.Pitches short and keeps rising.It is a BOUNCER!!!I duck,as best as i can.The ball ducks with me.Trick one.shit!I turn away.The ball smacks me on the side of my skull.I suffer a brain hammehorrage(Forgive the spelling).Bowler,comes right next to me.Apologises as if it were compulsory.walks happily back to his crease.

I get up.For a moment,I think i've lost my eyesight.But then,The keeper hands me my specs.I put them on.Wiggle my head and get on.Every anthem from "The Eye Of The Tiger" to "We Will Rock You" starts playing in my head.No pain,no pain.that is all i say to myself.

By now i've faced six deliveries.An over.This is the longest time i've stayed on crease...alive.The blood in me gushes.

The next ball.A widish good length .I cut it through the covers.It races,so do i.We get a two for it.By now,my teammates have regained confidence in me.I have too.They are cheering me.

I am now swaggering at the bowler.He is calm.The next ball is abeauty.It pitches almost perfectl in his'zone' near offstump.I am drawn to it.It moves,not out but in.Right through my gates.I try to adopt some defense,but can only swing the bat at it in a visibly awkward manner.My middle stump...The stump goes flying to the keeper.It is vindication for him.My short lived heroics come to an end.

The rest is history.My entire team scored 29 runs of 8 overs.6 of which belonged to me.We were releived off the field in 4 overs.Need i add more.Yes,of course i do.

I do not like to brag about myself.But the antics of mine that day,convnced me that i can play cricket.That stupid,awfully boring and impossible game that my dad criticises me for not being able to play.Oh!!just one problem,he won't beleive me if i told the truth.So should I .....maybe add a bit more masala........?don't worry,he loves stories.

Raindrops are falling on the hill

It has been pretty dull since morning.The atmosphere is weighed down by a certain expectancy.It is the annual monsoon arrival.Though it is still not monsoon season,the good lord understands our suffering under the unforgiving sun,and does send us a few coolers here and there .......under he table.this is one such day.

The signs are predictable.There is heavy humidity in the air.Grey clouds cover the sun up.The wind zips around wth new zest.But the most beautiful and assuring sign is that of the earth.As soon as you know that a drizzle is due,there arises an most aromatic and pleasant smell that every human has loved at some point of his life.The smell of wet earth.If heaven had a smell to go by,this would be it.

Everyone is out on the streets,including me.Kids have already started running around.As though wishing the wind to move faster.cycles are brought out.The kids are now speeding around streets ,racing ith each other.Those less fortunate,are even more happy.it doesn't matter if the arrival of monsoons announces wet floors,cold food and even drenched sleep.They are as happy as anybody else.I walk down a street in such muted celebration.Beggars are moving around happier.The few coins which show that their collection has been lower than usual,do not know about happiness as much as they do.One walks up to me and says,"Baarish aane waala hai na??(Its going to rain,isn't it?)".I only nod.

It has been a hour.The wind still blows around.The cloud cover refuses to move.People begin to wonder if this is a false alarm.And just when you are ready to give up hope.It begins.A sweeping hush falls all over the place.The rain is a star when it arrives.I look up,just in time.The first pearly,transparent drop,falls onto my glasses and goes splat.Soon there are dozens of it falling all over the place.

Kids come rushing out into the open,followed by paranoid mothers calling after them.Shopkeepers take a break,and step out of their guarded 'gallas',and enjoy the moment unadulterated.A few oldies step out,under the excuse of trying to stop their grand-children fro getting drenched.But beleive me,under that pouring sky;the smile of a two year old is as wide a s that of an octagenerarian.I am drenched.But i am happy.So is everybody under this blue,blue sky.

Then it stops.Leaving us with watered hearts.the sn steps out from behind the curtains of the passing clouds.As though he had been witnessing every one of our childish antics.He smiles brightly,and finds it being reciprocated.Ironic,that a few days back the same smile was being frowned upon.But he knows.He knows how weird we are.He knows that half a month into the monsoon,we'll be cowering under broken umbrellas when the rain comes.We shall run into buildings in the road,to protect our clothes from getting wet.We shall wish the rain to go away,and sit inside pining for the warm glow of the sun.But for now,he doesn't mind if we sing praises for the Great Indian Monsoon.

The Bridge to The Lost World

It is a dark,moody evening;fast descending unto the night.A pale,orangeish glow is spattered across the heavenly cenotaph above me.I stand there watching faces melt away into the crowd in the street below.The aroma of street foods rise upwards in the humid air.A train stops at the station,while another departs on its journey.A horde of human bodies exit the station.Grimed in sweat,hunched by worries and on the constant lookout to escape them.

I am standing on the bridge that connects the eastern and western parts of my town.From where i stand,a long corridor of the bridge stretches past me on either side.The railway station is just below catering to hundreds of passengers,who pass on oblivious to its service.the lights are coming on in the streets below.The fair has just begun.

The bridge is home to a lot of different kinds of creatures.Beggars,Romeos,couples and the lost.The beggars are all but gone by now,except for a few who are counting their daily earnings.The place is now abound with lovey-dovey couples and crazy delinquents.One such pair of lovebirds stands a few yard to my left,cooing away happily in each others arms.A man stands puffing smoke rings into the air on my right.Maybe a metaphorical symbol of his life and dreams,rising high in the air only to vanish.All this while normal people pass us by.Often throwing a derisive look at us.I don't mind.As long as they do not know my name,I am fine.Anonymity has a certain power.One that turns Peter Parker into Spiderman.

It is late at night by now.The streets are starting to get empty.Those who have homes,go home and sleep.Those who do not,step into the streets and are lost forever.The bridge is now occupied by such ghosts.A couple of cops come by on their daily rounds,curse,take money and go away.The ghosts get back to their nightly occupations.My body decides its time to go home.My mind......It is lost somewhere in the middle.

For me,this is the beginning of an end.For them,it is just beginning.It is a hauntingly attractive place to be.This bridge.The closest definition of this could be 'The Lost World'.There is one thing common to each one of us on this bridge.We are all lost in the middleof something,somewhere.And we are all confusesd about which way to go.Between East and West.Between Good and Bad.Between Success and Failure.Between Life and Death.it is a thin line.But we all walk it.

Confusions of a lost mind

Walking beneath the huge and gothic sructure of the Mumbai's CST terminus,i feel strangely out of place.This time though I am not alone.I am walking behind three guys.The only creatures in my book, who i can classify under the title of freinds.We go back a five years in the past.They know me from the first day i entered college as a gawky teenager .Back then,as now,I still felt out of place.

We are as eclectic a group of people as you can hope to meet.Eac one of us was,is and will be different.Till the end of time.Though today i hold them in much more esteemed eyes than when i saw them 4 years back.As we walk out of the station,past the bombay High court and a thousand cricket playing kids at the maidan,I can't help but wonder at the change.

I hit off wth them from day one.We were the 'outcaste five'.Outcaste because we were so not 'cool'.each one of us came from the middle class.The economical denominator even negated out cultural diversities,though we all belong to the same part of the country.The western part.Three of us are gujaratis.I put that in a common term,as i still am unable to recognise the various lingualdifferences in them.One is from near rajasthan and madhya pradesh.I belongto the south,but as i have spent 20 years of my life here,i think i am an eligible mumbaikar.Together we were the 'obnoxious middle benchers'.

But i was much more outcaste than they were.At least they were extrovertive and suave.I was neither.I still remember watching their bags after class as they ran out and tried to show off in front of the girls.I thought them to be silly.I guess i had grown up too fast,too soon.and then when i decided to become a kid again,the world looked at me and said,"Grow up".It was as though i was caught in the ultimate complexity of youth - caught between the danger of growing old and the immaturity of staying young.

"Hey,buck up.Sloth!!",they call out to me.We are now walking past Eros in churchgate.Nice name for a theatre.The roman god of love - attraction guaranteed.The first time i bunked lectures was with these guys.We had gone to a silly theatre in kurla,and watched what i'd call one of the most degenerate films made by our country.though they thoroughly enjoyed the skin flick.Boys,i had thought.Today,i am the boy in the group.each one of them is a man stepping out into theworld knowing its complexities and threats.While i ponder,arge and discuss on what it would be like.

We are still different from each other.Even in our career choices.Three of our group chose to graduate in commerce,one went in for hotel management.I,meanwhile,chose to stay in my 12th standard.Today,except me,they have moved on.One works in the hustle and bustle of the Bombay Stock Exchange as an intern,Other is employed at a CA's firm.The hotel management guy is going off to ITC in Kolkata,the leftover dude has his father's business.I,stay where i am - lazy,stupid and stubborn.

What happened?where did i go wrong?why haven't i started my career yet?As we walk along the promenade of the Queen's Necklace after buying the tickets for the movie,my mind is still stuck on my failure to be something.My friends call out to me.It is still a long way to the end.I ask the nearest guy ,"How long is it going to take?".

He takes one long look at me,smiles and says,"Just Keep Walking"

Insomnia

It is very late in the night.Well,morning if you read the clock the right way.The only person stupid enough to roam around in this unearthly time of the hour is me.The stillness that envelops me is overpowering.I wonder what i am doing down here instead of snoring in my bed.The owl on the tree near the compound gate seems to wonder the same thing.

I don't know for how long i stayed awake.All night i kept twisting and turning in the quilt spreaded out on the floor(my bed) of our one room apartment.After quite a few desperate and unsuccessful attempts to fall asleep,I woke up.The only sounds in the room were that of the toilet tap dripping and my dad's snoring.Then something quirky awoke inside me.They say strange things happen to you at such times.I decided to go downstairs and enjoy the moonlight.I rose as silently as i could,picked up my mobile and my note and headed for the door.Just as i was turning the lock,my dad gave a slight shuffle.I stopped dead and stared at him,feeling like a runaway bride before the day of marriage.

The descent down the corridor was scary.In the dark(Da society is saving electricity),it resembles a spooky dungeon.The light from the mobile wasn't enough to guide me through the place.Good thing,i was barefeet.Or the sound of my tripping would have awoken my 'friendly' neighbours and presented me with embarassment.Not that i am not used to it.

The place was empty.As empty as my brother's head.But there was also something mystical around it.It is amazing,how a less-than-ordinary housing colony is transformed into something mysteriously attractive with the fall of night.The cold breeze fluttered a few leaves as it floated across the deserted complex.Not a light stirred amidst the windows.All and sundry were deep in their sojourns with fantasies.I was feeling exihilirated.

After an hour the motionless silence was exciting me.There seemed to arise a suppressed energy inside me.I wanted to scream as loudly as i could to shatter this impenetrable silence.But i knew i shouldn't,so i couldn't.I sat near the watchman's cabin.He was asleep.I don't blame him.My mom said,"only people with lots of money and secrets don't sleep at night".The watchman didn't seem to have either.He was a hardworking man with little cash to spare and an open heart.Just like my dad sleeping on the third floor.So much for class divide.

The warm,humid air was making me sweat.I looked into the mirror hung outside the cabin(w'man beleives that if you sleep with your face to the mirror,you will be captured in it forever).I stare into it.For that moment,i am scared.Boy do i need a haircut?I look like a cross between Jim Morrison and Lennon.

The air around me is suddenly abuzz.The dawn seems close at hand.Birds are beginning to stir in their tree-houses.The sky has started to change into a recognisable blue.I decide to head up home.I switch on the Fm airwave in my mobile.and Billy Joel talks to me

In the middle of the night,
I go walking in my sleep,
To the jungle of the true,
To the river so deep.

The date that I almost could have gone.

Well,life has been hard on me for the last two weeks.The most exciting thing that I did is also the most stupid thing.My mom is mad at me for not doing the house chore,dad is mad at me for not doing a part-time job,and I am mad at myself for blowing the best chance that I could have got.I guess there are some people in everybody's life whom you meet only whenyou are depressed.People who are probably born to annoy you.I have quite a few in my life.She is one of them.

"Hii!! What are you doing here?",she says in her annoyingly sweet voice.

"Uhhh....eating.I guess that is what peoplelike me do???" I hadn't expected to see her here.

"You could be a little cheery for a change,ya know?",she snaps.

"Not with ya around.You found me by accident or by purpose??"

"Well, guess what you'd like?I'd like a masala dosa.",she turns to the waiter hovering above me."You sound as sour as you were during that bhelpuri episode",comes the next quip.

Boy,I so remember that.It was,is and will be the singularly most embarassing thing that i have ever done.Bicker with a girl in the middle of the street.It was the year before last.One of the most depressing periods of my life.I had flunked my 12th boards twice in a row,my boss at the day job was pissed off at me,dad was totally upset and mom was going through hi-blood pressure.I was living hell,and she rubbed iodised salt into my wounds.Every one of her projects at my comp class would be selected,and mine disregarded.It was one of those'effing-days';to borrow a phraseology.My friend offered to take me for a free treat,but didn't have the money and I ended up paying for it.But just as i was about to dig into my first spoon,someone bumps ito me and sends my plate spiralling at the speed of light from my hand to the platform.What followed was the most embarassingly hilarious event of my life.

It was her again.Giggling,gaggling in all her petite,prettiness with her friends.any other boy in my place would have actually utilised the opportunity,But i had some other plans.I tapped her on the shoulder,mind it tapped her.

"don't you think you owe me an apology??'',I scowled in hindi.

"What??? ",she lookeed quizzically at me.

"Well,you just spoiled my 10 bucks.The least you could do is apologise".By now,the devil was inside me.

"Oh!!sorry,it was just an accident.No need to be all angry.",she reasoned.

"Accidents don't happen for free,ya know!!",.Man,was i cheap.

"Excuse'moi??",she crooned

"ten rupees,that is what you cost me right now..Pay up".By now my poor friend was embarrassedly tugging me away.

"Where do they make cheap-skates like you?",she snapped back,understandably.

"The same place where they make you".You couldn't have held me back with a titanium barricade that day.

"At least I have more money",was her wise remark.

"Good for me.now pay up."I was out of my blistering mind,now if i think of it.

"Here have a twenty..and guess what.Keep the ten as a tip.'',Then she turns to my friend and says,"I know institutions that take care of people like these.I'll give you their numbers if you want."

I would have choked the royal air out of her lungs if it weren't for my friend.Most of my family won't beleive this if i told tem.But this happened.In the middle of a damn,bustling street.

"You aren't eating ?Lost appetite?",she snaps me out of it.

"UHH no.Just that...I am sorry for that" the faster it is out,the better.

"what???",then it dawns on her,"Ohhh...never mind.You were going through a bad phase.Anyways,wanna join me at a party now??",she ends it in a strange way.

"NO",I stutter.

"C'mon.Show some civility.It is not some unknown place,it is rahul's Bday."she answers before
adding,"rahul???ur comp partner.???"

"UHh...No thanx.I..I'd rather go home now.It is time.",I still am thinking.

"Ok.Dnt regret it later"

Ohh by the way,wish rahul for me."

"Yah sure",was her last quip.

As i step out of the eatery,I am still thinking.Should I have said yes.It is not everyday that I am asked out by a GIRL.But the other part says,Remember how strange it would be.For you two to walk into a room full of people from your class,together.two days have passed,I am still arguing about it.The date that I almost could have gone.

Alone

I step out of my house.The stairs in the corridor are empty.Behind these latticed,snaking corridors i've spent most of my childhood and youth.And yet,not a sound speaks to me now.All way down,they look upon me as they do upon anybody else.As a stranger.I walk alone.

It is late evening.The sun is taking its last sigh.Birds are returning to their nests.the sky seems melancholic in its own way.The dogss are raucously howling their song.Nor a soul lookd up to me.Not a bied chirps my way.No leaf stirs from their branches.I walk alone.

The road spreads ahead of me to welcome the workers coming home.I see an old friend speeding home.Another aunty ,her grocery bag overflowing,trundles past me.The worry of her son's exams is writ large on her face.They do not glance at me.cars speed past me,accompanied by the rickshaws.The street lamps flicker to life.I walk alone.

The markets have sprung to life.Hawkers are yelling around their wares.Curious shoppers check them out,while the experienced ones pick the right stuff.they are both arguing about the peices.The sweetmeat shop is crowded.Children run about happily ahead of their parents.I walk alone.

There are people all around me.families moving around in groups.A father carries his son on his shoulders,while his wife holds the hand of her daughter.I spot a few familiar faces on the road.Friends accompanied by their friends.Trying out a new dish at the street corner.The hotels are filled with couples sipping on a single milkshake,cooling off.Boys and girls of all ages,travelling in packs.Laughing and enjoying their way out.I walk alone.

I turn home.I pass my school.where i spent 8 cherished years of my life.Where i made my first friends,my first enemies.I found mentors,allies and knowledge within its walls.Yet it stares back at me coldly.As empty as its heart.No soul stirs awake within its windows.I move on.I walk alone.

Thr kids are playing near the garage.My neighbourhood kids are playing with them.I smile at them,and get a similar reply.But none is warm enough to crack the ice in my heart.they carry on playing.I walk alone.

I step back into the empty corridors leading to my house.They are dark,black.The power hasn't come back yet.NO door is open to show me light.No voice asks me to watch the next step.No hand guides me through the dark corridors.I walk alone.

I ring the bell of my house.My mom opens the door.She scolds me for not telling her where i was going.MY dad is back too.He asks me where i was.I tell him.I had gone out for a walk.Alone.

Nothing Official About It

It is a difficult time these days for students.With the vacations coming to an end and the looming threat of returning to the routine mess of school/college beginning to peek its head,kids are irksome.So am I.I take the honor to inform you that I have just taken my admission into the Second Year Bachelorship of Arts.I am lucky to have been taken once more.But what i intend to narrate is not th admissione but the journey to get it.

After receiving the astounding and fantastically unbeleivable success in my final exams,I thought my parents would be a little appreciative of me.But all I got in return was "You sure didn't copy??".right.So much for hard work.The next two days went by in the joyful wishing of friends and neighbours.then came the D-day.Admission.The night before admission has always been difficult for me.That owes its origin to the fact that I am not the most orderly humans amongst you.Often my preparations for the documents happen in real chaotic fashion.I would dive into my dark,cavernous shelf and try to emerge with all documents from inside it.Many of them would hide themselves in the most oblivious fashion.and more often than not,my xerox copies would have been used by my mother as covers for her 'pakodas'.So after spending about 6 hrs in the previous night it would be really bad if you wake up the following morning and find out that somethingis missing.All this done,I got into the train hoping nothing would go missing on the journey to the college.

The management of the college has only one opportunity to extract revenge for the last year.Therefore,they are in the most invincible form on admission day.As i got into the prayer hall with my friends i was early.Beforehand there were certain news that we had to pay the fee in Demand Draft.I,obviously,had remained closed ears to that.I had carefully brught cash to the college in the hope that they would accept it.In the corridor to the hall,we were accosted by some of our 'long lost' teachers.Oe of them caught us by the scruff of our necks and demanded to know our results.Seeing mine,she gave me a deep incisive look.As we alked on,she was still looking at me.c'mon guys,can't a boy like me pass?Anyways,I got to the hall and joined the long,snaking line to the clerks table in order to get my form examined.As my turn came,the clerk looked up.he was a bald pated.heavily mustachioed man of fifty with a evil look in his eye.I gave him my form,hoping that it would be right.He took a long look at it.He stopped at my surname,and asked me to spell it.It is quite embarassing to spell my surname,we south indians do have quite a few miles to our name.After the dreadfully long name,he said ok.Hapily I went down to the office to pay and get myself enrolled.I encounered another long line of haggled and harassed students before me.I spent about fifteen minutes before i reached the counter.As i reached out to pay the fee,the clerk informed me of his inability to accept cash.What impeccable timing!I immediately had to rush out in search of a bank that would beleive me and offer me a Demand Draft.

The catch in the situation was that the draft would have to be issued by a nationalised bank.There are few nationalised banks around our college.One refused to allow me in saying they issue drafts only at 2 pm.I guess my mom's theory of "RAHU KAAL' is beleived ny a lot of people.I rushed to another one.before I could enter a huge crowd of students had already posted themselves at every possible counter.I decided to get in any which ways and look for the form.After a few unanswered queries,I found the right form.So i joined the queue of about twenty students .After a few days...sorry hours,I got out of the bank with the DD in hand.
I reached college.By this time,the line a the office had grown as long as Rapunzel's hair.I wouldn't have known so many people to study in my college if it were not for this line before my eyes.As slowly as the line snaked forward,my stomach began to rumble.I had left home at about 7 in the morning,an ominous time to be awake.I hadn't had breakfast,and was definitely going to miss lunch.I was not alone in such times of trouble.A few of my friends were discretely sending smelly and noxious airs from their behind into the already warm atmosphere. and conspicuously looking at each other.Moreover,the line was held up at the front by girls,who as always,get to the first and stay there for a very long time.If these troubles were not enough,we had to fight groups of 'friends' who would arrive and try to displace you,or bribe you to take them in the line.It was almost as if we were fighting a war on our empty stomachs.

By the time i reached the counter,i was paining in all places.right at that moment,the PC went kaput!!Boy,did a commotion rise from the students corner.But then it was soon silenced with a simple word - rustication.Well,whoever wanted to get rusticated before being enrolled?I waited there,silent as a charlie chaplin movie.after a endlessly long wait of 20 minutes, my form was accepted and I was finally a student of this college.As i was venturing out,the clerk shouted behind me " check the office out.You won't be here for a long time from now!!" Was he right!!!

Strange Encounters With A Stranger Kind

It is often that i meet strangers whose names i do not know.But it is not very often that i meet a 'pretty' stranger whose name i would like to know,but still do not know.Yesterday was one such occassion.I got into the train as usual.After a while of haggling and harassing,i moved into the calmer confines of the compartment.I took my place between the first row.My front seats were occupied by only three people instead of the usual four.I guessed the inevitable reason for that was a pretty girl sitting right between her 'brother'(optimism) or boyfriend(bad luck).I hoped it would be the former.She was busy reading a news paper so i tried to occupy myself with a fight going on the outside.

After a few stops,i got a seat right opposite her(Must've been my lucky day).I tried hard not to keep staring.But on the contrary,I found her stealing glances at me.Now that almost killed me.All my life i've spent as an 'Use and Throw' piece.Girls only came to talk to me if they had an assignment to do or to make their boyfrieds jealous.This was a first for me.Unfortunately,i did not have any prior experience in how to commence friendlies.That task was made even more difficult by the muscular young man sitting right next to her.I decided to throw in my best shot.I have always found that a good book attracts more peope than glib talking.I picked my book("The Last Mughal") out of the bag and started reading.But still those secretive looks kept coming.By now I was thoroughly bothered.

I mustered enough courage to say 'Hi", on the most optimistic hope that she ought to know me if she kept staring like that.fortunately for me she blinded me with a huge smile.

"I almost thought you didn't recognise me",she said.

Dammit."Of course not.How are you?Long time no see?"

"Oh yeah.We have moved to Thane.That happened after school.",she solemnly replied.

Right,when did i see you in school."Oh! so what are you doing nowadays.seen any of our schoolmates."

"Oh no!Been very busy.Am preparing for the exams...Engineering.Haven't had time to do much socializing."

beauty with brains,now those are as rare as they come;-).

" So,what are you doing?"

Just wasting time."Oh you know,just this and that." very suave,houdini.

By this time,the jock beside her had his face contorted between a smile and a clenched jaw.
she turned to him and said,"This is Houdini.He was in my class in school.Houdini,this is my brother."

Great!!why do girls have to have somebody in accompaniment when they talk to me.BFs,GFs, and Brothers.Do I have the look of serial killer that they do not find it safe to talk me alone."Oh HI.what do you do?"as if i care

" I am dong my MBA".he spoke.

EMM-BEEE-AYE.so smart ain't he." Hmm.That i s good.Your future looks mint-y fresh,does't it?"

Unfortunately,he did not get the joke."Which college are you in?",he asked.

"KJ Somaiya."

" Doing what??"

what is it with you? I am not answering an interview here."Arts."

"any future plans",he wisely questioned.

Heavens,I ain't asking for your sister's hand in marriage for you to find out my economic prospects." plan to go into journalism"

"that sounds exciting",this time she said.

By this time their stop had arrived.They silently got up and wished me good luck and all other proprieties.I said the same."Call me some time.",they said.

call you what,miss..." Sure.I will"

As she went forward her brother turned to me.Now,I was a bit apprehensive.How could you not be with a guy who is 6ft tall,has the built of a bull-dog and wears a tshirt that says 'Don't Mess with ME'

He stuck his penetrating red eyes on to my face and said in a slow,hushed voice,"You didn't know her,did you??"

Now what should I have said then...."Of course not" or " You're right".

All I said was " see ya later." That was the most honest thing that I had said that hour.

In The End

So I woke up yesterday and found out that my results were coming out.Grumbling,I got out of bed and looked up at the watch.It showed a skewed time of 9:30.dammit!why is it that whenever you want mom to wake you,she is busy.I rush to the bathroom and do my morning chore.I looked into the mirror and was stared back by a unruly haired,unshaved dervish.I would have gone anyways to college,but mom came back and stared at me with such dangerous eyes.I know her,and in such times it is better not to mess with her.

I called up my class mate on the way and asked him if he knew what today was.He was clueless.After i informed him,he was on his way to college.I caught the train,fought my way hrough the crowd and reached college by a quarter to 11.I was dumbstruck to find that the results were coming out by 3 to 5 pm in th evening.There i stood .sweating like I had just been to colombia,outside my college entrance with all other students comfortably roaming round with their Gfs and Bfs.I was pissed off,real bad.Before leaving ,I called up my "On the way" classmate to ask him where he was.Looks like he was still in bed.he had a valid reason.Who wants to see a bad result,and anyways i could check out for him.He gave me his roll.I told him it was on the NH list."whats NH!??",he asked.I screamed back,"NOT HERE!!!"

I went back to lounge at my cousin's place nearby.I am lucky that people have houses nearby.At about 3:30,when my cousin decided if I didn't leave now he would call the police I left.I reached college by about 4 'o clock.I spotted a few dorks hanging around.I carefully ventured up to them and asked if their fates had been pronounced.All I got was a blank look.Some people are more stupid than they look.After a little time,the notice board announced that the results will be here by 5pm.Gr88!!extend it for a few more hours and i will have a day more of enjoyment.

It was 5 and te crowd outside the college was swelling by the second.The entrance almost resembled a railway station.Suddenly,the peons came out with two small,rectangular notice-boards.The rush was inevitale.For the first time,i realised people are interested in knowing their results.There were students,all over the place.Screaming,kicking,crying....well,not crying but with various expressions.My friends stayed back for the moment.I could not.I had to ripp my result off the board before somebody else sees it.I entered the crowded ring.I don't have much strength or muscles on me(unless you count 5 cm biceps),but I have travelled on crowded trains for ages now.I pushed and scratched and bit my way through.As I reached the board,it said "FYBCOM" in big capitals.Now people revenged,i was thrown out like Saurav ganguly from the indian team.But like the name,I made a comeback.Seeing a crowd on the other end of the gate,I rushed in again.I realised too late,that the high-pitched screams tearing my ears apart were from the feminine gender.I was staring at the girls results.before I could be accused of something and end up in jail,my mates dragged me out of a clawing and murderous crowd.

I looked sheepishly at them,trying to hide my embarassment."Lucky you!!" a friend winked.Right!!But where in hell's name was my result.By now,I was streaming in sweat.Hell would have felt like home.suddenly one of my classmates turned ro me and said," Have you tried that one out yet??".I hadn't noticed a smaller crowd near another column of the gate.I went there,hurt and tired.nothing could be worse now,i thought.I searched minutely for my number.I found it.A look of terror came acrss my face.My bowels had begun to revolt.I had a nauseating feeling .My friends couldn't beleive their eyes.

I had passed "FIRST CLASS".I didn't beleive it.Neither did mom and dad when I told them.They still wat to see that marksheet before lending credibility to my account.Unfortunately,I do not have that proof in my hand.I will only get it day after tomorrow.

The Past,The Future And Me

Together they made a very strange picture.Almost as if they were in a dimension between to worlds.A 3yr old boy standing,crying besides his sleeping grandmother.It would have made an award winning photograph.The boy;his little hands clasped together as if holding an imaginary candy bar,tears running down his dirty cheek into his wide open mouth;and his grandmother,who looked no different than the rags she wore,sleeping on the pavement.

I don't know why the li'l guy was crying.Maybe because he was hungry and his granny was carelessly sleeping.Or maybe because she was dead and he didn't know what to do.I didn't know which one was it.My ears couldn't take his bawling,which according to me would have shattered the glasses in the coffee shop in which i was sitting.But it hardly strained into the ears of this city basking idly under the scorching sun.In that moment,I had a view of the demented world that we were living in.

My eyes searched the road for any sign of his parents.All i found was an empty road.I don't think they would have been in the cofee shop.Maybe they had gone to work in some under-construction building nearby.Or maybe,they had left this world in search of a better one.whatever it was,i was worried.After a while he stopped.His bawling changed to sobs and then subdued to sniffles.Maybe he realised the futility of it.For a while he looked around not knowing what to do.He went back and sat down besides his granny.I watched him,as he innocently played with his grannys sari.I wondered whether he knew about this world that he was born into.For a second,my thoughts connected with him.I noticed a lost,confused look in his eyes.They had a glazed look caused by a permanent state of worry.

I felt sorry for him.But he contradicted me.His face broke into a wide grin.In my keen observation of the kid,I failed to notice that the lump of rags beside him had arisen to a wrinkly old woman.I smiled feebly as the child rushed into her arms and got enveloped by a warm embrace.

I watched them walk away,hand in hand and dissolve into the ever innocent crowd of shoppers.The past and the future.Then it hit me.There was something amiss here.The present.Where was it?? I slipped into introspection.I had been so engrossed in scanning my past and worrying about my future,that i had lost my present.Every innocuous moment that had slipped by was now lost forever in the throes of time.But now,I realised.I had to make the most of the moments i had.In them i had to work,live and enjoy.As i rose from my table,the child inside me smiled.He took me by my hand into his future.His present happily followed his future.

Going Down In A Blaze Of Glory

Every single day they rise and go on with their work.They are ordinary people,like you,me,everyone else.Not much differentiates us.Just like us,they too have families to feed,parties to go to,friends to meet,and bils to pay.They say their prayers like many of us.Maybe more sincerely than many of us.They belong to someone,or are somebody.They might be be somebody's only love,A father's only hope.The two eyes of their mother.He might be a hardworking father,worrying about his child's future.A mother who puts her two kids to sleep,saying that she would be with them forever.A loving husband wanting to fulfill every one of his wife's whims.A young boy waiting for his friends to come out for the next game of cricket.

They have undergone much pain.A lot more than some of us can bear.And maybe,will suffer even more.They have dreams,many of which will never see the light of day.They still fight on.trudging through the murky waters of life's tragedies.Almost every single one of them knows,that their clocks are timed.It is a matter of a few more....minutes,hours,days and maybe,just maybe,years.Every night,they lie down on their mattresses with plans of what they would do tomorrow.Though one of them might never see the sun.Ever again.

They live life.Without Fear.For them,these moments are to celebrate life;not to mourn death.they have one more move to go on their 64 squares.One last attempt to checkmate their opponent.Look around you.They are everywhere.Behind you,In front of you,with you,maybe,even you.In the train,hanging on the door,working in the office,sharing your lunch,driving your car.They know life better.Better still,they know death.Not as an hovering enemy,but as a friendly stranger.but they aren't ready to let him into their houses.Not yet.They have one last task to accomplish,one last thing to do,one last move to perform,one last chance to prove.Then,they can go down in a blaze of glory.

The Edge

The sun glaring down at my face,the wind in my hair mess me up as I travel to town on a local train(surprise,surprise).No,I am not vivek Oberoi leaning out to catch a glimpse of my 'rani'(though i wouldn't mind it).I am just one among many passengers in the train.

It is peak hour traffic on the central line.People are crammed inside like sardines in a can.The heat and humidity of March adds up to the volatile tempers fraying inside the compartment.All i can see from where i hang is hands,limbs and a few faces here and there.My fingers hold on to the railing desperately.There are about seven more people at the door,who share my fears and enthusiasm in staying alive.together we hang;like festoons on a window;waving along as the train chugs its usual path.

Buildings and shanties pass me as i hang perilously with one foot on the ledge and the other frantically searching for earth.We raise 'one' remaining hand to our foreheads in prayer as we pass a temple.I pray for an extra day to survive.There are many people who sit on the opposite banks of the rail tracks.They are up to their morning 'chore'.This is a regular feature.Not the best view in town,but the most viewed.The morality police never catch us for those,do they now??

The crowd swells to an unbearable limit,as we depart from a major station in the suburbia.For somebody watching from the outside,it might look as if the compartment were bursting at its seams.Inside,jostling and shouting matches take place.The crowd becomes more violent and aggressive.Whoever said that indians are peaceful people,better travel in trains once a while.These ruckus' push people near the door onto the door and we,well....we are just 'touching the train'.We hang on with every pint of energy present in us,for the sake of dear life.

Seconds seem longer than hours in this position.i pray to god to grant me strength,as the train comes to a standstill right above a bridge.I am hanging 30 ft above black,muddied -and dare I say it-water.though my knowledge of geography might describe it as a stream,my sensory organs would disagree.To my eyes it seemed to be a gigantic gutter,while my nose struggled to stay alive over it.

Finally,I reach at my destination.Haggled,afraid and pushed around by eerybody.Though,I have enough adrenalin to keep me going through the day without a cup of coffee.My thoughts wander as i am adjusting my clothes and hair.I wonder why terrorists have to find so many complicated ways to kill a group of people that are anyways struggling to stay alive.

I Am In Heaven

I woke up one day to find myself lying on the grass with the sun shining above me.I sat up and beheld a beautiful valley sprawled below me.As far as i could extend my eyes,a lush green carpet of grass spread out.Cows,grazing nonchalantly,ocassionally raised their heads to greet me.The bright,blue,sky extended like a canopy,much beyond the great blue peaks with their tiaras of white,fluffy clouds.The sound of a waterfall gushing somewhere,wafted in the air alongwith the chorus of sparrows.The smell of wet mud filled the air and calmed me.Fear,surprise,joy and excitement created a chaos of emotions inside me.

I removed my shoes and felt the ticklish grass.The wind had stopped in a pregnant pause,waiting for me to take the next step.In that moment of surreal calm,I knew I was experiencing bliss.I decided to run down to the valley floor.A surge of happiness bursted through my insides.I ran like never before.For freedom,for joy,for life.I jumped,as i reached the bottom of the slope.My feet never touched the ground again.I was now gliding along the wind.I had turned into a bird.An eagle,to be exact.I sounded my clarion call as I flew across the meadow and above the forests.Birds in the forest raised an orchestra of voices as they answered me.With a swish of my wings,I rose higher than the wind could take me.I now set my sights to the twin peaks.

I increased my pace.Suddenly,flying seemed effortless.My body had started vanishing.I was becoming the wind itself.I passed over the rivers causing ripples to form.I flew towards the sun,peeking mischeviously from behind the twin peaks.With a sense of invincibility,I rushed into the white hazy clouds.

A soft,comforting embrace enveloped me.I melted into it.My heart could not contain all the medley of feelings welling up inside it.They began to flow out through my eyes.Crying,is not a word I would use to describe it,but i have no other.My tears drizzled down as gentle rain upon the valley floor.The grass now glittered as though sprinkled with diamonds.I wanted to touch them.I rushed down with the rain.

I landed on the cool,wet grasswithout as much as a sound.I was tired.My body had been drained of all the energy that it posessed.I dozed off to sleep with the wind blowing,upon a feathery grass bed;beneath an apple tree and the rainbow perchng between the mountains.

The next time I woke up,was on my bed.The curtains on the window were drawn,to allow the golden sunlight to enter the house.The smile on my face refused to leave me for the next few hours.My mom spotted me like that,stiffened and said,"Forget It!!You are not getting any more of the gulab jamun in the fridge"

HIGHWAY THROUGH THE DANGERZONE

His big,bloodshot eyes follow me as i walk through the alley.It is not night yet but the power cut in the locality has added to the eeriness of the street.I am walking at a frenzied pace.he has been following me for the last 20 metres.I take the road uphill.It leads to my school.It would be deserted now,but I know shortcuts from there and might give him the slip.I can sense the anger in his motion.I glance above my shoulder,and find him gnashing his fang-like teeth.man!and mom says i have scary teeth.I shift gears and pick my speed up.He follows.He is close by now.My instincts kick i and I flee the spot.Never before had I run like that.Barren,leafless trees hover above me at the top of the hill.I stop to catch my breath.for a moment too long,he catches me.Why is he following me?,I wonder.breathless,I hit the left.I know,there is a shortcut that hits the main junction from here.He divebombs me,almost snapping my leg.I run hard,my pursuer runs better.Fear clouds my eys.A outstretched limb trips me over.I yield ground.He stops a yard away.His frame covers the only route of escape.He lumbers towards his victim.I can see a lust for blood in his eyes.I blindly throw my hands around,to find anything that could help me.He leaps at me,his fangs wide open.I thrash the side of his head with a srone.Stunned,he falls back.I regain my foothold.Now,I am taller than him.He staggers back.I throw the 'missile' at him.I miss,but he does not wait to check.

I get up,dust myself and continue the walk home.Damn!!stupid dog!!Almost scared me.

A MIDSUMMER AFTERNOON

It is a dull,boring summer afternoon.I have exhausted all my resources of occupying myself.I lie there on the cot,with the earphones plugged in,gazing nonchalantly at the fan whirring incessantly as it creaks.The sun outside is baking up the ground.The cement pathway is so hot that some of its inhabitant mongrels have taken shelter under parked cars.The cars themselves,are not doing too well.I can see dust,grime and crow shit baked on them.they look like they could do with a cold shower.These are some of the unfortunate ones.Others like me,have a more comfortable life.They sit at home,listen to music,have a nap......not exactly.


IT is difficult to stay at home in such times.At least for me,its true.So why is it so?? My father always-like many other fathers-talked about how he spent his childhood struggling.He regaled me with stories of how they never had all the comforts that we have.How he would go to some richer neighbour's house if he had to watch a match on doordarshan.How he would never get any toys and had to put up with playing with homemade stuff and trees outside the house.Well,for all those people who think youngsters today have it easy?? think again.


Look around you.It is summer.schools,Colleges are closed.Yet there hardly are kids playing outside.Well for a start;Dad; there is no OUTSIDE.Our building ends right where the next one begins.You could pass the curd in my house to the neighbour and hardly spill a drop.Well,such closeness also has its benefits....Coming to the point,Kids don't have playgrounds like they had it in times yore.As for trees.The only ones left in this city are 'endangered species'.
When we play on the streets to avoid breaking our neighbour's glasses,you stop us saying "It is Dangerous".In such troubled times gadgets are the only solace kids have.At least we can beat the Australian team on the PC.

Even the use of gadgets is highly overrated.To be honest,I am around 20 and the most complicated gadget that I have used is a cellphone.Not all have playstations and Xbox 360s lying around.Even if hey did,living in my part of the town you are wont to have it lying in dust .We don't have electricity for 6-8 hours AT LEAST.(Mind it!I don't live in a shanty either.)So I can't use my 'gadgets' for long enough to waste precious time.

Third,no young boy of 20 years age can afford to stay at home playing.Not that the younger ones do.Half of my friends are busy in their jobs,careers,getting on with life et al.The younger ones -The ones I bully,at least try to- are off to coaching classes.I am curious.Many are busy preparing for the next year of exams.I never prepared for the exams before the penultimate day.

That leaves me alone.The daydreamer,stays at home writing nonsense on his PC.Such that only like minded people like to read.Mom shouts from the kitchen to make me sell the papers and useless items and get some change.I try to ignore her.But it is hard to do that when she comes out with a metal tongs in her hands."Do that and get me some groceries,or forget your coffee",she warns me.Whoever said that youngsters today have it easy.....Dad,you were lucky

Over The Top

I stood there on the ledge.Alone,Desperate.The wind blew hard in my face;as if to dissuade me.Below me,an endless trail of tracks snaked into the fast darkening horizon.The sun shimmered ominously in the twilight sky.Somewhere faraway,a lone canine called out to the pale moon.Soon,a chorus of howls inundated the chill air.My heart is beating so fast,I can hear it.I step down to calm myself.One look around the creepy,tattered bridge assures me that I am alone.The train shrieks as it passes below the bridge.Its rumble shakes the earth beneath my feet.

I toughened myself up.I had to do this.I climbed onto the ledge again.This time I was not alone.A lone night owl is waiting for a sight of its prey.He tilts his head and studies me with his bright round eyes.I avoid his gaze and concentrate on a more important job.I look down.It must've been thirty feet to the ground.One step ahead takes me thirty feet below,strange!!I push my stiffened body over the ledge.I can see the light of a train.Maybe it's an express one!Suddenly there is a creepy calm.I feel like I am falling into a vaccum.I hit the ground,without a sound.I feel nothing.My body is strangely limp.

I open my eyes.It is all dark around me.I try to stand up,but my back is killing me.My head shoots up instinctively.All I can see is an old fan creaking as it whirs on my room's ceiling.

Lage Raho.....

It is a busy traffic circle.Cars and bikes smoke past.Everybody is busy running from one end to th e other.Nobody notices him standing in the centre.An old,bespectacled man hunched on a stick;right in the centre of the circle.He has been standing there for a long time.I don't know why he hasn't crossed the road yet.Maybe that is not his purpose.The sun burns down with a purposeful vengeance.His bald head does not seem to be the best headwear to me.Birds,all kinds hover around him.He doesn't seem to care.And interestingly,neither do they.This strange view attracts a little girl's atention,as she passes by in a car.All she gets in return is a bark from her mother to keep her hands inside.The birds are very calm on his shoulder.Suddenly,one of them undergoes a minor'indigestion'.His expression does not change for a moment,his smile is unwavering.As if nothing happened.

It is an hour past and he still stands there.Steady and rock solid on his staff.A man is right next to him.He looks like one of those rich businessmen.He is puffing on his cigarette.Well,as if that wasn't enough,he has a mouth full of 'paan'.He sneaks a look around,like a thief about to pick a pocket,and spits.Right on the old man,leaving a red abstract stain on his dhoti.Not even a sorry muttered.I look at the old man,for some expression of anger.I am disappointed.Not a wince,his face is stoic.I know it now.He is one of those pacifists,who would bear every oppression in staunch non-violent manner.I knew if this guy had the strength,he would have cleaned the stain and smiled at the 'culprit'. GANDHIGIRI - They call it.All philosophical nonsense.Who will bear everything bravely,without getting angry,cursing or hitting his opponent?I won't.Some boys pass him.Raucous and screeching in mirth.One of them imitates him and gives birth to a new joke.They throw away empty packets of biscuits at his feet.Immediately three scourging mongrels pick them up and run away.Wish some of us had the decency they have.I decide to leave the old man alone and concentrate on my lunch.

I decide its time to get home.I walk past him for the last time.The plaque beneath him reads -MOHANDAS KARAMCHAND "MAHATMA" GANDHI -FATHER OF OUR NATION.I smile at him.Wonder if this was the nation he wished for,dreamed of,gave his life for?Only if he had a voice.If only he could speak.....again.

Na Poocho Dard Bando se
Hasi Kaisi Khushi Kaisi
Musibat sar Pe Rahti Hai
Kabhi Aisi Kabhi Kaisi.

The Long Drive

I got into the rickshaw.It already had two passengers.A girl my age and an old uncle. The rickshaw-wallah looked back and said,"Meter pe chalega(Pay according to the meter)." I nodded my head before asking him,"Meter toh chalega,na?(At least the meter will work)".He smiled.Thus the drive began.

I was returning from college after writing my exams.I guess the paper wasn't too easy,which is why I skipped my walk home and got into the rick.The rickshaw is a very quaint little thing.Though I do not take it very often,it is something I enjoy riding in.Better than a car or a bike.Maybe because I feel safer in it.The ride home is a long one,the driver knew this better than anybody else.Sensing two young people in his 'Feraree',he switched on the FM.The speakers behind us blared,for a minute the world went silent.The poor uncle could not help but mumble in irritation.He glared at the driver,who oblivious of his doingsang along in merriment.I could not help but smile.Well,I loved the song.The uncle caught me in the act,glared at me.I looked the other way.

Halfway through the journey now.We were past the ever ensuing traffic of the main road and on the last stretch home.This was the rougher part of the road.The rickshaw wallah seemed very confident of his driving skills,the uncle wasn't.In the meanwhile he(driver) turned to me and started alking India's chances in the world cup.I,for a moment was caught unawares.Then taking a cautious approach,I expressed a positive wish that maybe they might just make it this time.People can be real sensitive about cricket in this country.He laughed.My bluff was called.I had no choice but to argue in support of the topic.I was facing a tough opponent.He seemed to know every flaw that Sunil Gavaskar and Vengsarkar might have ovelooked while selecting the team.Suddenly the wise old man spoke up beside me.Well,the debate got tougher coz,he belonged to the generation that had seen the cup home.He started comparisons of the present team and "victorious" one.The rickshaw driver decided to take the safer side.The girl,who somehow seemed familiar,was worrying sick lest the driver should bang the convoy into an oncoming divider.We three were unaware of her fears,and perhaps a little insensitive too.I know exactly what she might have thought,"MEN",just like mom and many other unfortunate women do.

We reached home finally.I got down and paid the fare and bid farewell to my entertaining friend.The uncle warned me to watch out for his predictions.The driver grinned and asked me when the matches will begin.I informed him the dates.Just as we were about to leave,the last member of our party remarked the silliness of the whole debate.The driver snapped,"You would never know",and sped off.She looked at me in surprise.I just shrugged.

IN a country where the pitches carry the name of the 'Caesar' Sachin,followed by the 'Triumvirate' of Dada,Jammy and 'the new kid' Dhoni;cricket is more than just another sport.It can make friends,enemies.It is a religion that runs much deeper in our bloods than any other thing.

MOM

She stands there in the kitchen,cooking,unaware of the importance of today.For her it is the same,every day,every month,every year.I don't know when I met her.They tell me it was in the hospital.I was a little pink mass of flesh;wriggling and bawling loudly.I ask her about it and she smiles proudly.I love the way she does that.Not that she looks awesomely beautiful,the wrinkles all over her face are ugly.

I was always afraid of her.Maybe,afraid is not the right word.I can't remember an accurate word,but it was not a fear.It was something of a respect.I still remember the times when she spanked me for not doing well in my tests.She would hold me by the wrists,and hit me on the knuckles.I don't think it was of much use,but somehow I never got angry at her for doing that.
I don't think she ever grew tired of me.She would diligently wake me up,bathe me,and drag me to school.With me it was never that easy.I would bawl all the way up the hill.She would always promise me a chocolate if I behaved well in school,I remember that.But she would never give me any.Instead she would roll out some balls of jaggery and give it to me.I loved those days,when she would place me on the ledge and feed me.She would never eat before feeding me,and still does not.As I grew up,she was the only one who supported me unconditionally.

I disappointed her a lot.In my late teens,I quite lost an interest of studies.I did very badly.She was suffering a lot within her heart.My father gave up on me,she didn't.Even now,when I refuse to do anything that my father tells me,She holds him back.Then she would convince me,somehow,to do it.Maybe it is in her blood.That amazing power of persuasion.She has never changed since then.

My family has been through good times and bad times.But I was never a part of it.Even when we were in a financial crisis,she never flinched.She knew to utilise her resources.She would take tuitions throughout the day.I guess she had enough experience teaching a bad child.Our single room flat would be covered with children sprawling all its length and breadth.Even when I took up a part time job in my vacations,she said I could continue as long as I was able to manage my studies comfortably.You should have been there when I gave her my first salary,she was beaming.

I haven't lost my admiration for her.She still goes about doing her chores ritualistically.She has grown older,maybe a little weaker.But she is the same woman.My mother.

The Book Of Knowledge

The book lies in my hands .Closed,ruddy and old.It has an ancient feel about it.I do not remember exactly when was the last time when somebody read it.but I guess it must have been a very long time,an year to be precise.I remember buying it from the old dusty shop in a bylane beside my college.I wasn't very enthusiastic about buying it.But my father had forced me into it saying that he wanted to see at least one book of my syllabus in my bag or else...He never finished the sentence,I didn't give him a chance to.I grudgingly spent thirty bucks on it.And then forgot all about it.

This always happens with me,buying a book and never using it again till the last day of my examination.Not that I am not a book lover.I love books - Novels,Comics,Stories etc.But books reccomended by teachers for the improvement of your knowledge in a particular subject,Nah.All year I spent my time roaming in the corridors,bunking lectures,arguing with my lecturers.It was there all the time,even when I almost failed.It watched every move of mine with an overbearing patience.As if it knew exactly when i would come to it.It waited.And it was right.

I was tensed.I had to find it.If not risk failing the examination.That would be a lot more dangerous than it sounds.I looked for it desperately.My drawer is not the easiest place to search for a thing,but I ha no other choice than succeeding.I found it at last.Resting between an old diary and the cluttered books.It felt priceless.I had never experienced this feeling,not even when I bought it.I was happy.I looked at the book.I felt like it was smiling at me too.As if saying,"I knew you'd come looking for me."

The Room Beyond The Dark Corridor

The sun was in its prime outside the room.The feeling inside the room was not the same.There were about twenty boys and girls assembled.Each one seated nervously in his place.The tension in the room was mounting every minute.But not a word was uttered.Other than the ocassional sound of paper being flipped over,or the tip-tap of the pen on the desk,silence prevailed throughout.Time pased without any incidents.There would be an odd whisper here or there,but it would be silenced as soon as the clip-clop of the supervisor's footsteps would near.The sparrow was the only living being that had the courage to annoy him.It flitted from the huge tree outside,to the sill above the blackboard.As if in a show of disdain,it would drop pieces on its way.The odd peon would peep in with a cup of tea for the examiner.The examiner would look around the room in a sweeping glance and accept it.The boy in the first bench looks at him.The thirst is evident on his face,but he will have to wait.There are a few people like me in the room who are keeping an eye on every movement in the room.The girl on the bench next to me is irritated by the sound her bench makes every time she pressures her pen.The clock is ticking away in its own monotonous way.

The silence is killing me.I have a very strong urge to scream,tear my paper and storm out.It is impossible,I say to myself.I look at my paper.The blank reflection of my mind stares back at me.The boy in front of me is furiously scribbling away in his paper.I tap him on the shoulder.He refuses to look behind.I can't afford to quit.He irritably shakes his head,as if to ward a annoying fly away.I leave him alone.I look behind for a stray sign of hope.The person behind me might be friendly.He flashes me a huge grin.I get the point.He knows as much as I do.I return to my paper.If ever I read greek,it was now.The examiner,who has been watching me,as much as i him,smiles.It is a sly one.That of a hangman waiting for his prisoner.I glance at the clock again.It warns me that there are only fifteen minutes left.I scribble whatever I can imagine.As the bell nears,the tension reaches a feverish pitch.People are now scribbling as fast as they can.The speed of one girl is bothering me.Her pen might burn her paper up.Even the examiner increases his steps.He sets around distributing threads to tie the supplements.He doesn't bother to stop at my bench.Suddenly a deafening sound erupts.People look up as if waking from a hypnotised sleep.The emotions on everyones face is varied.One boy looks as though he just lost his girlfriend,while another is as smug as the one who got her.The papers are snatched,and assembled on the table.Whispers ,loud and audible begin to float around.The examiner asks everyone to get out.

I step outside.The sun grins widely at me.He does not know how it feels.He wasn't there.Inside the room beyond the corridor.

English Literature - Do not opt for it

What a day!Phew!!Its Examination time,and houdini like the rest of his clan is very busy studying.Yes!Even Houdini needs to study,though he still needs a miracle to pass.Today was one of my more dangerous assignments - ENGLISH LITERATURE.What is so dangerous about it?Reading poetry might sound a great idea to woo your girlfriend,but it is not the same for literature students.We look at a poem not just for its lyrical beauty,but also for its metre.Before entering this class I had no idea about how many poetic forms there were in this language.All I knew was that poetry would have 'rhyming' words and a musical note,and prose does not have that.Some knowledge of poetry I gained from a very strange book.You might have heard of it.It was "The Da Vinci Code".Remember the 'IAMBIC PENTAMETER'?yeah,it is a form of poetry where the syllables in every line are grouped together at the metric scale of five(penta).There are other forms like The Dramatic Monologue,The Petrarchan Sonnet,Elegies(sad ones),and Epic Poems.To remember all these forms along with the complexities,and their rhyme schemes is a herculean task.Not to mention that we also have to remember the more famous poems of each form,their literary importance and their poet's background.I love poetry,to be honest.I just don't like looking at it with a magnifying glass.It is like the engineer,who looks at his ferrari examining its flaws.I mean,come on!!Its a ferrari....sorry,beautiful poem.Look at its lyrical beauty,applaud the excellent and ornate words,rejoice in its meaning.Don't ask me to write a three page explanation on why Tennyson's "Ulysses" is better than Elizabeth Browning's "The Musical Instrument"or vice versa.It takes the entire fun out of reading verse.Of course,professional and better literature students would disagree with me.

A study of Literature,especially English,would be incomplete without the study of novels.We have the famous "Pride and Prejudice" and Thomas Hardy's "Tess of the D'Urbervilles".Honestly,I hate 'P & P'.It is a totally girly novel.Well,I understand it is of great historical importance.I beleive,it was the first novel written by a woman to have acquired such fame and rung in the advent of women novelists.Even then,it is downright silly for me.Thomas Hardy though occupies a much better stanin my eyes.I hear shouts of MCP!!No,listen it is just because I like tragedies much better than happy endings.Pessimist am i??I personally feel,that Hardy had the courage and conviction to take a different path and succeed as compared to his peers like Dickens and Thackeray.His total opposition of the belief in a 'omnipotent,benevolent and omniscient god'attracts me.In fact,he calls god the "First Cause" i.e the major imperfection which is the cause of misery.He goes on to add that destiny,not character,is the cause of human misery,one of his quotes in my book reads "Man can do what he wills,he cannot will what he wills".Another describes the ever present cruel and merciless society aptly saying,"Happiness is but an occassional episode in the general drama of pain". Interesting ain't it??
IN fact his writings caused such discomfort in the orthodox victorian society that his books were often treated as sham.His sympathetic portrayal of the 'fallen woman' in 'Tess....' evoked severe criticism.Its subtitle of "A Pure Woman" raised quite a few eyebrows.Now tell me?Do I wrong in placing him above Jane Austen?Well,I do place Jane Austen above the Bronte sisters and Mrs.Gaskell.But I love Thomas Hardy.

Apart from this we do have a detailed study about the backgrounds of the 19th century literature.From the Victorian Age,back to the Romanticists and the Classicists.This part is tough.We have a complete and perfect mixture of history,sociology and politics in these chapters.We have to study what went on behind the scenes as these famous authors and poets were busy in their drawing rooms on their 'little ivory'.It is all very important though,from the marks point of view.

Now,the question is why am I telling you all this?Because......I had my exam today and messed up real bad.My chits were bad enuf and the guy sitting in front of me was a real bozo who wouldn't show me anything.Now as I am home,my brain has just awoke and realised that the data stored in that unused locker for a long time,might actually have been of some use.Hence,I write this post so as to prove that I do have some knowledge about literature.Also,in a vain hope that if ever my english teacher does look into blogs,she might give me some grace marks.

Ma'am,please have mercy.Don't look at the visitors page and judge me. Remember


Admit that Homer sometimes nods,
That poets do write trash,
Our Bard has written "Balder-Dead"
And also Balder Dash

PS: That is not mine.It was written by Matthew Arnold.I just 'wikied' it.

In control (It is a delayed post)

Finally,I am here to write something .It has been a very busy week for me.I have been staying at my uncle's housefor quite a while now.I suppose it has been a long time,so long that his son's might be wishing me to get out(jus' kidding).MY parents don't worry much.For them,its heavenly to find me missing.The news is that the parents of this house have been out of town for a week,and asked me to come and 'babysit' their kids for a while.I am not very good with kids,but when they are as tall as me,maybe taller,it helps.though their brain works at the same level.

Running a household is a very difficult job.No one knows it better than women.In my heart,there is no one who holds a position higher than the women of our family.With kids like me and my brothers around,I don't think they will have much spare time.That is why I do not bother them when they watch serials of regional 'Ekta Kapoors'.Anyways,as we decided to take things under our control,they knew that things are going to go out of control.After dropping them off at the station,we rushed home to enjoy our newly found independence.


the next day morning the sun came up pretty early.The milkman rang the bell.We got into the daily chore segment.I packed them off to college and office respectively,and decided to go to college JLT.As evening arrived,we looked around the dirty and desolate place,grimacing at the jobs we now had to do.FYI,we haven't swept the house for the last six days.walking around in an inch of dust is queer,but you get used to it.That evening,one of us took on the kitchen.Just to make sure he does not mess up our digestive system,I decided to keep a watch over him.He did well,to my surprise.

Well,in all we were able to stay alive till the pro's arrived.They were happy we were ab;e to hold fort,to a degree better.NOw,we are all well fed for the last two weeks.

Happy valentine's Day! ..... Really????

Sorry for the long lasting delay.The past two months have been really hectic for me.I've been roaming around.Don't even think about asking me,where I was.The story is long enough to be made into a bollywood movie.Let's return to the present.For those who've forgotten,yesterday was valentine's day.A day for love,joy and rejection!!No,my dear reader,I haven't been among those unfortunate few who have been mercilessly and fortunately side-stepped by the oposite gender.I am talking on behalf of all those stupid friends of mine,who have been crying since yesterday evening.My shirt still has salt stains on it.I do not know if they come off!!

Love is such a foolish thing.I am not a romantic at heart.Nor will you be if you had seen the world the way I do.The info i got from my friends is that St Valentine actually was killed on this day.So,what are we celebrating exactly??Love,right,but did not st Valentine,the earthly minister of cupid die ? Anyways,what do I care for.But for my friends,this is the day they await all year long.Well,they only look at it as a day of complete freedom where your teachers won't snarl at you whn they find you out of the classroom.It is the day they magically acquire teh courage to speak to any girl they like.Impressive,I say.No matter,if you are embarassingly asked,"Do I know you?", or the more common, "Excuse me!".Most of them hardly get to hear the voice of their crushes.All they hear is ,a big bang - of the slap.

This might have ambarassed anybody else.An ordinary mortal would have blushed beetroot,and got his legs working.Not my friends.Oh boy....sorry....Oh boys!!They were shamelessly in love,or that is what they said.Some were even more interesting cases.Like one of my classs mates,finally puckered the courage and took his sweetheart out on a dinner date.The venue was good.The food delicious.After a great evening,as he tried to speak,she stopped him by saying,"Thanks.But I do not like you the way you think I do."And she gracefully left,leaving him a hefty bill to pay off.Poor ol' boy,had to pay up as well as accept the ignominy of rejection.

Before you peope think that I am making merry of my friends sorrows,let me warn you that some of them still have to pay my money back.all I am trying to say is 'Why do only boys face this problem?'.Hey,hold your feminist horses!!!I am not against women.I can't be.I have a lot of sisters.Beleive me,they are quite a handful.All I say is why does it always have to be the men who are sorry.Think about it.Has your GF ever taken you out on a dinner date and paid the bill?Has she ever tried to woo you?Lemme guess,NO.You gotta give it to them they are smart beings.They lure you into the trap and then when you have been entirely used like a chewing gum,they spit you out.The fault is not theirs.Idiots, like my friend, always give them a impression of their own foolishness.So much for suavity and gentlemanly behaviour.
They walk around like flies around a dirty frog.Waiting to be eaten up.
This is why I do not celebrate valentine's day.Hey,its not that I do not get te chance to.My aloofness and mysterious characteristics,do attract a few flies.But I do better to ward them off.For all those of you who succeeded,Beware!You still have time to escape.For all those who didn't,may the good lord keep your souls.