Wednesday, November 20, 2013

Frankesteins and Draculas

Have you ever noticed that the Indian 'horror story' never quite seems as scary as the non-Indian ones? I mean I am no great reader so I admit I am ignorant about any great horror story set in India and written by an Indian, but just look at the movies! I mean each one looks the same as the next and are not as nearly scary as Paranormal Activity or Jeepers Creepers (my personal horror pinnacle, dont ask me why, just is!) Sitting in the hot,humid and always bustling India I failed to understand why it was so...now i know...

Don't get me wrong, i don't mean to be a snob. It is just that these are the factors that take away the chill factor in a scary read or movie. I mean even the unearthly creatures would fear being trampled by the magnitude of people and instead of chill down your spine all you are likely to feel is the trickle of sweat. That does nothing to create the sense of horror...at least not the fictional kind! 

But now, as I sit here with overcast, foreboding skies, and howling winds that rattle through the house even through tightly shut doors and windows-an unanticipated chill slides down the spine which has nothing to do with the single figure temperature! When you are alone with no sound of cars outside your window, or people screaming around you about daily mundane things, or even your neighbours fighting about dripping laundry, it is easy to imagine things. The rhythmic thump of the door can sound like footsteps, the rattling hinges can sound like someone trying to get in and the howls of wind seem to hide the bloodcurdling cries of a tortured soul...

There is a reason greats like the Frankenstein and the Dracula were originated in the UK. Where else will you find storms that empty the streets and darkness that creeps into your skin. The wet chill will always grip at your heart and make it thump away in an anticipation for the uncanny.....

Tuesday, December 25, 2012

Caution



I was a fairly cautious man all my life. Where I say cautious, my friends and family disagreed and called me over-cautious, paranoid, hyper and the like. But for me it was always justified for I believed that one day the world would see that caution is the best weapon we have against the many dangers of the world. I knew, one day they would have to agree with me, so I never got mad at their jest. The other reason I never not get mad because I hardly ever got mad. That particular emotion of anger was, if possible, wholly lacking in me. It was a game to many people to get me mad in many ways, but they never quite succeeded. Nothing ever prompted me to react very violently. There was one thing though that no one knew, I was intensely in love with my wife, and if anything ever came upon her, I would not hesitate to act. Even though I had never thrown a punch in my life, for her, I could fight a war. And it was for her that I fought that day.

I am the kind of man you could pass by everyday and not notice. There are no remarkable features in me to make me stand out in a crowd. I have an average height, average built and an average complexion. A balding man of 55, and a ordinary pair of glasses that rest on my nose make me...well…quite ordinary. Though my wife often remarked that I have an exceptionally large nose, which is hooked, and kind of flattened at the edge like someone has punched it. She would laugh every time she made this observation, and I could never help but smile, even at the expense of being the object of her ridicule. She was like that, vivacious, a little mad and a lot of interesting and often confusing elements. These traits have made me fall so helplessly in love with her and even at this age, I feel the same warm glow towards her as I did in our early courting days. The vitality of life still shone bright in her 48 year old eyes, and even though her skin has started to wrinkle, her mind does not seem to have aged at all. She laughs and plays with her teenage daughters like she was the same age as them and even they, at an age when kids dread to be seen with parents, seem to adore her unconditionally. Yes, we made quite the pretty picture.

The story started when, after age,s we planned to take a trip together as a family. This time it would be our first ever trip abroad. We were all tremendously excited. Especially Manini and the kids. I of course had to look at the practical arrangements for the trip, Manini never seemed to have any patience with them beyond a point and often accused me to be too interested in the details of the vacation than the vacation itself. But she also admitted in one of her jovial moods that without me, these practical ends would probably never be met adequately. Her complaint had been far more severe in our younger years when she just wanted to lose her head and have a blast while I struggled to be us grounded. With time and age, we have both kind of gotten used to the others vagaries and have even often stepped into the other’s domain to give company. She too thus sat next to me while we began the extensive planning for our African Safari.

Now u must be wondering, having just described myself as cautious, why I would be undertaking this obviously dangerous journey? Well, I too thought the same when my brother first suggested it to me. He had just moved to Johannesburg and discovered that there was a very popular safari site close by and invited me with my family to join him. “Are you mad?” I remember telling him, “Into the jungle, with lions and whatnots, that too with two young kids??” “First of all, Kriti and Ahana are hardly kids anymore brother, one is 16 years old and one is crossing 13, they are teenagers now, and secondly, this trip is hardly dangerous and I would not be even suggesting it to you if it was. Do you think I would like to risk all of your lives just for a bit of fun?” Harish had reasoned. True, he did love the kids immensely and would not do anything to put them in jeopardy but I was not convinced. For months he harped on it and I slowly started to warm up to the idea. After all, all that was needed was a bit of caution that all, and Manini and the kids would go simply mad with joy. As their excited faces flashed before me, I made up my mind but asked Harish not to reveal anything to them until I could make sure we could go, I didn’t want to break their poor hearts.

“Manini, bring my tea please,” I said one June morning as I was halfway through my Sunday Times. She put the cup down on the table before me and sat looking at me. I am not very fond of dogs really, but Manini had a puppy-like way of getting my attention. She would just sit attentively before me gazing at me until I paid her attention. The analogy made me laugh a little I quickly hid it behind my paper. I folded it solemnly and asked her, “Is there something you want to say dear?” She took a deep breath and went off like a machine gun, “Well, the autumn break is coming on and this August, they really wanted to go someplace nice for a long holiday, you know how we have not been able to go anywhere because of their constant exams and this year we were wondering if we could go somewhere fun like…” I interrupted her and said, “I have already picked out a great place we can go this year, it is all half arranged.” Manini was stuck mid-sentence and I also heard to quiet little sighs of disappointment from behind the door. Daddy’s choice must be boring I’m sure they thought and urged to suppress a smile. Manini, offended at being interrupted and that I had made the decision without her suddenly got up in a huff and said, “Fine, if it is all decided then what do you need me for! You take the kids and go, I’m not going!” I had not planned for this and I quickly left my seat and followed her into the kitchen. “But..but…I said it’s half decided, how could I make a decision without you honey?” Two muffled giggles had followed us to the kitchen door and hid behind the curtain. Manini smiled slyly. “Check the tickets, if you don’t like the place I have picked, we can cancel!” I assured. “Tickets!! You already…” Before she could finish I gave her the envelope. “Plane? That’s great now I can’t even ask you to cancel!” “Come on, open it at least.” She checked the destination and stood there in wonder and her eyes began to grow wide. The kids having noticed the reaction came out of nowhere and pestered her, “Mum…mum….where is it? MUUUUM!!” Manini looked at me blankly and said, “Johannesburg….South Africa?” I silently nodded as smile revealed how much I was enjoying the reaction.  The kids stood looking from her face to mine and after a second pause they both broke out into a loud chorus saying, “We are going to Africaaaaa!!!” and rushed out of the room.

“Are you sure you have enough money? Do you really think you should be taking this trip at this age, you are so close to retiring?” She asked me later that night. “It’s ok, it’s just one trip, don’t worry about the money, I would not have agreed to it if it seemed too much, you know that?” She nodded absently and then suddenly turned off the bed lamp. “Hey! I was reading!” She carefully took off my glasses and said, “No more reading today.” She hugged me warmly and we cuddled in to sleep. Even after so many years, this is how we slept, it was like we had grown so used each others body that we found it difficult to sleep without finding the others’ warmth. Those rare occasions where we would have to spend the night apart, neither of us slept very well though she never admitted it. In the dull depths of sleep I heard a soft ‘love you’ and a gentle peck on my cheek and I knew at that moment of how complete my life was.

Soon the day arrived. Between the four of us, there were around 8 luggages. For a three-week vacation it might be a tad excess, but for all the things we had to carry, the load seemed only too likely. We had weighed and re-weighed the luggage to see whether they were within the permissible limit of 30 kg per person and were quite sure we had not crossed the limit. “Dad, why did we need to carry a mosquito-net? It’s so damn heavy!” Kriti said while adjusting the strap of her rucksack. “Because, there are mosquitoes in Africa!” I said simply. “And why are we carrying, pocket-knives, scissors, sleeping beds, sheets, and half the bedding dad, we are not going camping there, there will be proper cottages as uncle Harish said.” This time it was little Ahana. I patiently told her, “Honey, this is just in case the bedding that they give is not clean. You would not want to sleep on a dirty bed would you dear?” I ruffled her hair and continued along the airport while Kirti said under her breath. “I wouldn’t mind sleeping on a dirty bed.” Manini soon caught up with me and gave her own version of “Why this” and “Why that”. And I told her too that it was in case of emergencies. She too god pissed off and said, “I’ll have an emergency right now if I collapse under all this weight. Nonsense!” By the time the luggage had checked in and we had all found our seats, we had all quite forgot about the “excess baggage” and sat in eagerness for the flight to leave. Our first international flight!
“Oh God! You look exhausted!” Harish said when he came to pick us up at the O.R. Tambo International Airport. The 14 hour flight, with an hour stop at Dubai, had drained quite a bit of our excitement. “And what in God’s name is this?” he said when he saw all of wheeling trolleys full of luggage. “Did you think you are coming to some remote island or something where  you did not get anything?” “Emergency.” Kirti said grumpily as she got on to the car. Ahana followed sleepily and Manini though tired greeted Harish with a broad smile and said, ”Let’s go! We got some lions to see!” Harish laughed and said, “You would have to wait for daylight bhabhi,  with you around, they would be afraid to come out in the dark!” She gave him a friendly punch in the arm and got in the car after the kids. After putting the luggage away, Harish got behind the wheel and said, “It is a good thing I know you brother and hired a bigger car otherwise all of us and the luggage would not get home together tonight!” And we were off to our house for the next few days, not knowing this trip would be cut exceptionally short.  

The plan was to spend the first week in Harish’s house, the next one out at the National Park and the third one again recuperating before heading back home. That was the plan.
In the first week, Harish decided to take us around to see the local sites as we may not want to in our last week of stay. So out we went to an amusement park, the Gold Reef City where the kids, and I admit I too enjoyed immensely. The one and only amusement park we had back home has long fallen into neglect and the lack of upgrade or even upkeep, has made it far less popular than it was when we were kids. Then there were museums, malls and shopping centres and then came the zoo. “Why zoo? We are going to see the real thing next week.” Ahana asked. I replied, “Listen, there are no guarantees in safaris, here you will surely get to see animals and it is so much safer.”

The day was pleasantly spent and on our way back Manini suddenly reprimanded me. “Stop scratching like a baboon”, she said sternly. I checked myself apologetically but something seemed to itch at the very centre of my back and I just could not reach it. The ride back seemed unusually long and I felt I just could not keep my eyes open and my lids heavily drooped over my eyes. When the opened I heard faint mention of the words, “rhino”, “lion”, and some other animal I could not place. My mind seemed to be moving in slow motion and the objects that floated in front of my eyes seemed vague and unfocussed. Suddenly, Manini’s face came in clear focus and I saw a look of deep concern on her face. She asked, “Are you feeling okay, dear?” and gently placed her palm on my forehead and immediately leaped. “Oh God! You are burning up!” there was panic in her voice as she ran to the other room to call Harish. “Don’t worry, I’m fine,” I tried to say but nothing except a gurgling sound escaped my mouth. My head was burning but my body felt cold, I tried to remember how I got from the car to bed, but my mind refused to budge. I looked at the direction where Manini went and saw two hazy images hurrying towards me. Then blank.

A distant beep, an electronic voice, a metallic squeak and a gentle sob were the first things I heard again. The deep black darkness was beginning to become lighter and lighter. I opened my eyes heavily, and still saw blurry images, as if I was viewing the world through thick, frosty glasses, I look to my left and I see a lone figure sitting and sobbing. I knew in my heart it was Manini, I did not need to see her. I tried calling out but again nothing but a painful breath escaped my lips but that was enough to rouse her. She came running beside me and placed a death cold hand on my forehead and I immediately recoiled. She quickly removed her hands apologetically and I kicked myself for reacting, how good her hands felt on me. I don’t know why an overwhelming emotion swelled in me, and I felt my warm tears streaking across my cheek and onto the pillow. “Don’t cry dear, everything will be fine, the doc…the doctors say you will be fine,” Manini said trying to convince me. I too wanted to believe, desperately, but something deep within me said, ‘It was all over.’

More electronic voices, bit different from before. A lot more footsteps around me, a lot many people. And something else was different. I was moving. I opened my eyes again, has the vision cleared a little? Airport. This time it was Ahana looking at me, trying to look brave. “We are going home daddy! The docs said you can go home. All you need is rest.” I smiled at her terrible attempt of a lie. But did she see the smile, there was no difference in her expression. She looked almost scared. It suddenly occurred to me I don’t remember having moved at all since I got sick. I am paralysed. The images became blurry again. Darkness. Deep Darkness. No sound, no whisper, no visions, absolute blank. Then again from very far away I hear murmurings as if spoken by ants, so soft and indistinct. The words “I’m Sorry!” suddenly hit my ears like a hammer and filled me with terror. Could not quite figure out why I was so scared of the phrase. It was a fairly harmless phrase. No. It was not the phrase, it was the way it was said. The way…the way doctors proclaim the dead. I screamed in my head “BUT IM ALIVE. IM JUST PARALYSED YOU IDIOT!CHECK MY HEART!CHECK MY HEART!” But no one heard it. I blacked out again.
Me and Manini were both young then. I heard Manini said as she lay in my arms, “I wish we were Christians!” “Why would you wish that?” I asked. “Well they have the best of everything! They have the most wonderful weddings, those lovely gowns. And even after death they can visit their loved ones grave and talk for hours, place flowers, its like they are always there!” “But we can also talk to photographs if we want.” “Nyaa…it is just not the same. When I die I want you to bury me and I want you to come visit me every day! Promise?” “Shut up! Don’t say things like that.” “No, I want you to promise, you won’t miss me when I’m gone?” she pouted as she often does. “Of course I will, why would you even ask something like that?” “Then Promise!” “Okay, but you too have to promise that you will bury me and come visit me at least sometimes, I know you wont remember me!” I joked. “Shut up! I’ll come every day, I promise!”

That deathly silence has covered me once more. The electronic sounds, the quiet sobs, all have disappeared. Nothing but silence. Then a curious sensation took over my body. It felt as if thousands of pins were pricking my body or a thousands of ants were picking at my flesh. At first I was confused by this vaguely familiar sensation but could not quite figure it out then it hit me. It the sensations one gets after the blood starts flowing to areas where it had earlier gone numb. Pins and needles. You usually get it in your hands or legs if you keep them in one position for too long. Its rare to have it across your entire body. Though my eyes were still closed all kinds of sensations were coming back to me stronger than ever. That dull numbness of my mind had magically cleared away, and I slowly began to move my fingers and toes. I felt a leap of joy in my heart as I have never felt before. I was confident that if I opened my eyes I would be able to see absolutely clearly as well. With wild wave of hope I opened my eyes-darkness. The height of hope crashed to the depths of despair! Then I reasoned, maybe it is night time and they have turned off the lights and the sounds, maybe everyone is asleep. Yes, the entire hospital is asleep, as if that is likely! Yet I needed hope desperately. I told myself all I needed to do is reach out to the bed switch and call the nurse, ask her to tell my family, ‘I’m Alive!’ I tried to stretch out my hand and banged it against something hard. The blow to the elbow sent a shock of current up my arm. I tried to stretch my other hand, Bam! Same outcome. I lift my leg and my knees are blocked and the same thing happens when I try to lift my head. The sudden realization drives me to the verge of panic. I throw my hands and legs in wild terror, bruising myself more and more, but I did not care! There is rarely any other terrifying thought in the world than the knowledge that you have been buried alive!

After the initial panic abated slightly, I tried to use logic. I tried to push the lid up; I banged and screamed against the cold hard wood, and had finally, after what I presumed to be an hour, I came to rest, exhausted. I had no way of knowing how much time had passed and how long I would be able to survive in this confined space. And I slowly found myself drifting into a tired sleep.
This time I was making my funeral plans. I placed an old tattered book in Manini’s hands and said, “I want to be buried with this!” Manini smiled in amusement and asked, “What is this?” “Well it is the diary I used keep as a child. Many unimportant, childish things are recorded here which seemed so important back then. You could say that this contains the innocence of my childhood.” Manini pulled my nose hard and said, “But you are still innocent dear, you don’t need that!” “Not as much as I was as a kid! Please, this is my wish. Promise?” “Promise!”

Again I started awaking to the absolute blackness of the coffin. Now there was no fear, no terror, just a quiet feeling of surrender. I knew it was just a matter of time. I felt around me for that little diary in the darkness. Could not find it, she must have forgotten. Odd disease she had of the memory, she could hardly remember anything! Anyways it hardly mattered anyway, not like I could read in this devilish darkness. Should have asked for a torch as well I thought and laughed despite the morbid circumstances.
While I waited for the inevitable, I tried to analyse the circumstances which led to this disaster. All those precautions and here I lay in my coffin even before the real adventure began! I tried to piece together the jigsaw puzzle in my mind which had floated about in the dull sickness of my mind. There was an insect bite which was found at the very centre of my back, the spot I could not reach. They could not trace the origin of the insect as there still lay thousands of unidentified creatures in the wild especially in the wild. I could even recall the faint voice of Harish rationalizing that the bug could have hitched a ride with the newest member of the zoo- an adult African elephant which had been brought from the wild just the previous day. It also occurred to me that since I insisted that we be the first people to arrive there perhaps I was the first man the bug could get close to. But it was all chance. I could be the last person and the bug could have still bitten me. Chance. There was no precaution against the sadistic work of chance.

With every breath I could feel that there was lesser and lesser oxygen entering my body. My head felt dizzy and my body felt sore laying in the same position for so long. I tried to move about but the space hardly offered much room for movement. I could feel a thick blanket of numbness covering my back, behind and legs. This time, it would be permanent. I was drifting off to another sleep, perhaps my final when I heard footsteps coming to a stop just above me. There were few muffled words, maybe there was a sorry there, could not tell, but it was definitely Manini. Then, after a few more muffled words, a heart-wrenching cry and a dull thud. She must have fallen on her knees. And the bitter crying continued. By now all my strength had left me and I wished she would just leave and let me die in peace. But as the crying continued, instead of feeling weaker I started to feel the tiniest bits of strength coming back to my limbs. There was a wild desperation in my heart to go up to her, hold her, console her. I wanted to live; I wanted to be with her for as long as God would permit. It does not end here, not like this! With every bit of energy left in my body I screamed. Screamed long and hard. And I thought I heard the sobbing stop. Could she hear me? Or was she going away? I banged and pounded the coffin lid with my hands, legs, and even banged my head against it to make the maximum possible noise. I laughed, I screamed and finally I broke down crying. I cried like I have never cried in all my adult life. I could no longer hear any sound outside, if only I had started earlier, she has left, gone forever. I howled and howled for what seemed like hours then sleep, peaceful eternal sleep.
“Get some more men down here!!” a brutish man was calling out, then an ear splitting noise of splintering wood, so close that it shook my entire body and my ears started to ring. Then suddenly without notice, light! Blinding light! And voices. So many voices that I could not distinguish one from the other. Then another delightful sensation-fresh air! I breathed deeply and sweet scent of life as far as my lungs would allow. I do not remember what my first breath felt like, no one does, but I am sure this felt exactly as exhilarating as this! And the only words that were splashed across my consciousness in bold red letters were, “I am Alive!
The recovery did not take more than an hour. Just an extra doze of oxygen, and the little time for the haze to clear. Then came the constant stream of people who came to see the ‘return of the dead man!’ They said I was under there for close to 24 hours. They said ‘It was a miracle I was alive.’ Harish looked haggard but happy. He had not shaved in days it seemed which gave him the perfect ‘in mourning’ look. It was he who told me sometime in the afternoon. “Bhabhi ji  kept insisting that we open up your coffin to put in some book or diary or I don’t know what! Anyways people were against the burial, they wanted to cremate you as per Hindu tradition, and they would not hear of reopening the coffin. She went around like a mad-woman and kept saying ‘How could I forget? How could I forget?’ People were beginning to think she was losing her mind. Then at night she sneaked off to your grave and came back frantic saying that your soul was in unrest and she must put the diary in the grave! Seeing her fragile condition we finally agreed then Lo and behold! There you are blinking into the light like waking up from every day sleep! You rascal!” Harish punched me and laughed a laugh of the greatest relief.

At the dinner table, the Kirti and Ahana were unusually talkative. They could not decide what to say and what not to say to the father who had returned from the grave. I guess my one day absence made them realise that there were so many things that they could have told me but didn’t. Death often does that, it often makes their loved ones feel there was so many things that were left unsaid, but few get to rectify it. Manini however remained quiet for most part of the dinner and when their enthusiasm was dragging the hour past midnight she quietly said, “That’s enough kids, time to go to bed.”
I saw Manini go about her usual before bedtime routines, washing her face, combing her hair, tying it in a long plait. Then she would put some of that lovely lotion, the smell of which I love. But as I saw her it saddened me to see that she had seemed to age drastically in a few days, the wrinkles had become deeper, the eyes had become duller, the grey hairs seemed rough and uncared for. What grief can do to a woman! She quietly came to bed and slept facing away from me, on the other side of the bed. I felt a pang of hurt and anger. “Great!” I said sarcastically. No answer. I too turned away from her and tried to sleep but just could not and felt a terrible unrest. I quickly turned and hugged her and said, “I can’t sleep without you!” That did it. She broke down and said, “I have not slept for days but I am afraid to hold you, what if you leave again.” And she kept on crying. I slowly turned her towards me and said, “I would rather be buried alive!” She looked at me with tear-filled eyes and just like that the twinkle came back and she said, “Very Funny!” and buried her head in my chest. For years after that we slept soundly, holding each other in our arms.


Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Red

Red lurked in the dingy,
Dim-lit rooms on rent
Being abused night and day
She was all but spent.

She wept tears nobody saw
And noone heard her cries
People called her a dirty whore
And all her pleas just lies.

Red knew she had to break out
And find herself anew
To belong where she was greeted
And not devoured by the sleazy few...

Her search was long and hard
Noone came to her aid
Whoever she approached for help
They showed her a grimy bed

Then one morning she awoke
And knew something had changed
Somehow the night's machinery
Had her fate rearranged.

She was adorned with such love and care
On a newly wed woman's head
She woke up with a dignity
And a loved one in her bed.

Yellow

She walks in a daze,
Her eyes glazed unblinking…
She sees nothing through open eyes,
The world a yellow haze…

The yellow overshadows everything
The dark silhouettes lit anew
Their colours all lost,
Only yellow shadows sing.

The dream descends on her lids
Powdered with yellow dust
As her sad old bones creak
And her house gathers yellow rust…

The yellow brightens the day
And darkens the night…
The billionaire of day
Becomes of a beggar of light…

Yet the yellow stays
In the dark corners of the street
The yellow drapes the city nights…
The yellow washes my feet.

Thursday, September 30, 2010

Lucky day



Through closed eyes I could feel a dull throbbing pain, consistent and annoying. I grudgingly opened my eyes and when the last snatches of sleep cleared, so did the pain. In its place a nagging doubt crept in, a feeling that I was forgetting something.


I threw off the covers and sat up in bed thinking about the long day ahead and glanced around my bachelor pad and was immediately taken aback. Stacks of neatly folded clothes, a clean table and spotless floors greeted me; even the towel was husng out to dry. Everything seemed totally alien, it looked nothing like my house except for the fact that… it was! I sat there scratching my head trying to think how this could happen. How drunk was I yesterday? Could I have cleaned the house after coming back? I tried to remember but only the dull pain lingered in my memory.


On my way to office, I tried to find a more reasonable explanation. Mom, Tabatha and Christie, all had the keys to my apartment, could it be that one of them (or all) came by and cleaned the house while I slept? The idea seemed a bit far fetched. Why would they do that out of the blue? Why wouldn’t they wake me? Still the idea seemed more realistic than mine cleaning the house in the condition I was in last night. Well just the idea of mine cleaning is unreal. I tried not to think anymore. The pain kept coming back and also that thought…what was I forgetting?


Reached office and my cubicle without incident, I must look terrible today, nobody dared to speak to me. Not that I was in a mood to socialize either.


Time dragged on, it was one of those days which seemed longer than others. No special work came my way; in fact, no one came to talk either. No gossip, no complaints, no sleazy jokes. By lunch I was beginning to feel a bit strange. What was with people today? As I sat their in the canteen alone sipping coffee from a chipped cup, my eyes wandered on to the large calendar hanging on the walls. 30th September... my birthday. How did i forget my own birthday? But i didn't forget, had a faint memory the party; the booze. But what’s with the silence?


As I started moving back to the cabin, I heard a snatch of conversation. The words John…meet…8’oclock…drifted to my ears. And then I heard someone asking for the address of my parents’ house in hushed tones. Suddenly it all became clear; a surprise birthday party. Despite the sour mood I was in all day, I suddenly started feeling all light and fluffy. Even at this age, the idea of a surprise birthday party sets a flutter to your stomach. I felt a very pure kind of joy, after a long time it seemed.


By 6.30 I grew restless. I couldn’t sit in that drab cubicle anymore with no one talking to me and nothing to do. Never had I got less work on account of my birthday. Not that I was complaining but this whole hush-hush surrounding my surprise was making me feel all left out. I was also wondering why mom hadn’t called me yet to come over. Maybe they were still busy preparing. Then an idea popped in my all too vacant brain. As revenge to my daylong torment I’ll burst in on their preparation, and catch them red handed.


I left shortly afterwards. No one stopped or questioned me, which I sort of expected. Still the fact the ‘big-man’ Andrews let me go so easily was hard to digest. This must be my lucky day. Must be my lucky birthday.


As I headed towards my old neighborhood where I grew up, I felt oddly nostalgic. I passed the playground where I had spent hours past my curfew, playing relentlessly, then that alley where I first scraped my knee on my very first bike. I felt a painful lump in my throat which both surprised me and delighted me. That pure joy was growing, spreading within me, filling me, surrounding me.


I saw a lot of cars parked in front of our house, which meant a lot of guests. I wondered what drove mom to go to such great lengths for my birthday. But then she always did complain that I don’t spend enough time with her. My heart warmed up for her.


I entered, and instantly felt a shiver, don’t know why. I looked around the room and saw everyone in dark suits and dark formals. Formal party? For a birthday? I looked down at my lilac shirt and beige chinos and felt totally out of place…and…wait a second…lilac shirt?? But that is what I wore yesterday, dint I change in the morning? I tried to remember but couldn’t. The pain was back only it was not so dull any more. I needed an aspirin, I needed to find mom.


I rushed from room to room ignoring everyone, suddenly frantic to find mom. Then I saw her, sitting alone, next to an open coffin. I shuddered. Oh no…Dad?? What happened yesterday? Did I…is that the reason no one was talking to me?! I ran to her and was about to shout but stopped. My eyes fell on the face in the open coffin…and saw myself in a dark blue suit. I wasn’t out of place after all. A wave of nausea swept over me, and it all came back in a blurry haze yet painfully vivid. The world started spinning…the somber faces…the playing ground…the friendly alley…and mom’s grey lined face all started spinning. I remembered…the drinks…the drive…the blinding light and then…the dull pain.


This must be my lucky day…my lucky birthday.

Sunday, June 6, 2010

The ride bak home..

Ten past ten. I rush through the doors of the mall. Most of the shops have closed. The huge mall is now in half darkness as the last of the shoppers trickle out. Out on the street the humidity hits hard. With bags in hand I join in the hustle for a cab. But I had little hope, I live in that corner of the city where cab drivers refuse to tread. The very first syllable of the name is greeted with vigorous refusals. As I stood there wondering what to do, a cab driver walks up to me and offers to take me for extra 10 bucks. I wondered for a second, how did he know where I wanted to go? But I pushed the thought away, at this hour this was the best offer that could come along. I got into the cab. The driver gave his buddies a nod and said ‘I’m off’, the buddies nodded back with a sly grin, seemed like a secret message was conveyed. I got in. The moment I shut the door I got a strange stench, I couldn’t quite place it and was too tired to think about it. The car sped on. I leaned back and closed my eyes; the calf muscles had started protesting, felt good to sit down.

After resting for a couple of minutes I sat up. And saw the car speeding through a fairly deserted road. It was not an unfamiliar road I had passed through it several times but at this hour, alone in a cab, I felt a bit jittery. I tried to look as if I was totally confident about the route while in my mind I tried desperately to recall the exact route I had taken earlier. In all honesty I am very bad with directions and am often literally ‘taken for a ride’ by cabbies…but today the fear went deeper than a couple of extra bucks. I pulled down the window and felt the cool breeze, tried to calm down. I saw the yellow and black road barrier racing with us, a poisonous viper chasing us across the black sand desert. I looked back inside, the tattered seatbelt which no one used, the threadbare seats with its insides spilling out…and that stench. It suddenly struck me it was the stench of a slaughterhouse…and none was in sight. The fear returned. I tried to get a look of the driver, to read him, but only his yellowed eyes peered through the rear view mirror. I tried to look unabashed while a thousand situations played in my mind. I felt fairly confident that I could fight him, owing to those few karate classes. Then I wondered, was it really confidence or a false sense of security? As these thoughts raced across my mind, the cab turned sharply and we found ourselves on the main road again. Phew!

Quarter to eleven. At this hour even the main road was not as busy as usual. Had the roads been always this yellow? Everything looked strange and alien. I couldn’t relax yet…having recognized the stench, I just couldn’t. Perhaps there was a perfectly logical explanation for it, but the whole atmosphere was set to bring out my dark imagination. I started giving directions, finally feeling sure…being close to home now. The cab halted before my door and I started gathering my bags, holding my breath. I got off and paid the fare. I tipped him ten bucks extra than what he asked for. He grinned, his yellow teeth glowing in the yellow light. And as I walked towards my door, relieved at finally being home and out of that stinking cab...I began to laugh…feeling stupid for the thoughts in my head. It’s funny how situations affect our thoughts. Just before entering I glanced over at the taxi which was pulling away. I almost raised my hand to wave but froze. Through the half closed bonnet of the car I saw a blood stained gurney bag peeping out. I tried to scream but by then the taxi had turned the corner, and the driver suddenly turned and looked straight at me. He bore that same yellow grin more sinister somehow; a chill ran down my spine. He shot me a salute and drove off. I stood there shocked and terrified…my mind went blank and my knees buckled under my weight. Only one thought played over and over in my mind…the stench…the slaughterhouse travelled with me…and he now knew where I lived…

Thursday, April 29, 2010

the last thing..

Let me lay before your doorstep,
upon the snowy bed.
Let the sugary snow be tinted,
with my crimson red.
I know you're in there knowing..
watching my life ebb away.
Still you do not come out..
and yet you let me stay.
I lay here for a reason,
the last thing i do for you.
All others maybe argued..
but this shall always hold true.
As i watch the snow redden,
with the last drop of my blood
My deadening senses gets a jolt,
by a loud and sudden thud.
I see her at last,a vision of beauty,
appear at the door.
A single tear rolls out,knowing
I'll see her no more..


I lay down for you,my dear,
a red carpet in your path
The final thing I do for you..
despite all your lies.
She walked out in her devil's heels
no feeling in her eyes
And the vision stayed frozen upon my face
as she walked away..unscathed..

Monday, April 19, 2010

Insomnia

Darkened room,just the dull yellow light
peeking through the window
The silence broken an mended
by a faint sound.
Soft and unnoticed at first
but grows slowly to a deafening roar.
The ticking clock,sitting and keeping count.
Time moves relentlessly as eyes just stare
The moment frozen in the light and shadow
of the concrete sky.
Prepared to sleep,all ready,but the sandman
again late.
Counting stars n sheep nothing to do but wait.
The sheep all jump their last,the stars too
blink away
And random thoughts and images
race forward instead
Bright and vivid at first,turn darker n darker
shades of grey
Finally the last images dwindle,grey grows black
ears silenced sweet...
Slipping slowly into the numbing deep.
Suddenly a shriek,a startle and shatter..
Bruised and broken it lays face down
on the floor
Two hands covering its face,the third
still ticking slow
Time up!dark sand has passed through to
bright day
The dazzling sun still cannot light the darkness
beneath my eye
the sun chases,across the sky,all through the day
Yet through the rush and bustle,the ticker still ticks away...

Thursday, April 8, 2010

Dream...inspired from a real dream...

I worry,i pace the floor tirelessly.
Not a word,not a whisper of how he is...
I try and try again to reach out to him
But fail;And dark images crowd my thoughts.

I asked him not to go,to a house
With blood stains on the door;'Paint!'
Said he,while he smiled charmingly
And as beads of sweat broke upon my brow.

The shadows around the street, shifted
Restlessly,and haunting winds sung
Warnings in my ear;Yet i left him,against
The protests of my heart...yet i left him there!

Now the moonless night deepens,
The dark night,the dark thought
Locked in grim duet;As I stand upon the door
Suddenly,i see,a glint of a distant silhouette.

My pulse quickens in hope and fear
I feel an anguished breath,so cold so near.

I shiver into the light,gone is the
Moonless night;the morning bright
And happy in my room.
Yet my heart races,something here it misses...
Did i desert him in the kingdom of doom?

Saturday, September 12, 2009

Collection..

I was rushing home, I knew I was very late and mom would be having a fit. But the game was too absorbing and exhilarating to leave midway. My pulse still raced with adrenaline, body was hot and sticky from the game the cool evening breeze did little to soothe…I needed a cold shower…yet there was a euphoric lightness in my head which justified the trouble…the sweat…the grime…it was all worth it!
I entered quietly from the back door. I could hear mom in the kitchen and the blaring TV ensured that dad was safely planted in front of it reading the news paper. I thought it quite a waste really, watching and reading the news at the same time, as if he was looking for a disparity, looking for an argument with which he could bore mom. The routine hasn’t changed ever since I can remember him. I reached the staircase and was greeted by Bruno, a giant of a dog, my best friend. I hushed him and we quietly padded up the stairs. And just when I thought I had made it, a sharp call made me stop dead. “And where do you think you’re going young man?” I turned around and saw mom at the foot of the staircase with hands on her hips…looking murderous. “And what’s your excuse this time for coming home at this hour??” she asked. “I…umm…I mean…” darn it! Why cant I lie…it’s so darn easy for other people! “Did you get what I asked you to get??” she questioned knowing the answer too well. I quietly shook my head. She gave me that i-am-very-dissapointed-with-you look. I shriveled under the gaze. “You know your father was looking forward to getting that piece for his collection and you know he asked you specifically to get it? How could you be so irresponsible, your father will be very disappointed.” She sighed. I kicked myself inwardly.
I went up to my room after mom discharged me. The euphoria had all but worn out. The game had sidetracked me from the job at hand. Mom didn’t even ask me to shower despite muck hanging on to every fold of my clothes and skin. I decided I had to get the job done. I could not disappoint dad again. Without changing my clothes I went down the stairs and out the door. The cool breeze had now turned chilly and without the heat of adrenaline pumping through my veins I shivered a little. I made my way along narrow alleys which seemed right out of old Dracula movies but save my mother’s glares nothing has ever scared me...ever. I knew where this particular article was found, not in any shop but in a house in the neighborhood. I went up to the door and knocked lightly. The door was opened by this girl with milk white skin and beautiful golden hair caressing her face and her petite body. I real life Barbie I thought. The street light lent an ugly glow to her beautiful face giving it a ghastly look and she looked at me with big surprised looking eyes. I knew I had a tough job at hand persuading them to part with a prized possession. Polite persuading was the 1st step…so I asked politely… “May I come in?”
I walked through my front doors with a new feeling something more, much more than what I had felt a couple of hours ago. There was a great sense of achievement, a pride which lent a new kind of euphoria. My body was exhausted…it was a long day…but I hardly felt it. I walked in the living room…the TV was still blaring and dad stood before it…transfixed by what happened in the world outside. “I’ve got it dad…I have got it!” I said excitedly. He didn’t respond he never does. Mom came in and looked at me with watery eyes brimming with pride. “My son!” she cried, “Your father is very proud of you whether he says it or not…I know… ” I was happy but I yearned for a word of praise from dad…it wasn’t an easy job. But I’m a grown man I didn’t need gratification from him to know I had done a good job. I smiled. “Where did you keep it?” she asked. “In the garage” I responded. Lets get to work at it right away…dad wants you to work on it on your own. He has faith in you. He is so proud of you!” she beamed. I could sense tears welling up in my eyes. I finally earned his trust…I would do the job so well he would have to be proud of me. I blinked them away. I made my way to the garage.
“…..the police are baffled at this cruel massacre….” The garage was filled of life size dolls…my dad was an expert doll-maker before…they all looked so real…like life size Barbies… “….the couple is brutally murdered while their daughter is still missing, a fifteen year old blond girl with a petite figure….” I had asked them politely for their daughter but they seemed so shocked at the proposal so I had to adopt harsher methods. “…a night dotted with bloody murders when another body or maybe two were found mutilated in an alley way, a calculated cold blooded act…as if someone was playing with their bodies…” If only dad would get up from his couch and see me…I was doing what he loved…albeit differently. But he never gets up from there and speaks only to mom…and mom is standing in the corner watching me…her eyes wet and unfocussed…she was dad for me then… “….the amount unprecedented gore and carnage on both the events seemed to be linking the two apparently unrelated cases. We fear it’s the work of a psychopath at the lack of a likely motive…” …the news still blared from the drawing room TV…but I a hardly heard…a new adrenaline rush had gripped me…as I worked feverishly…I was finally making my father proud…I was making dolls….

Tuesday, March 31, 2009

The Non-drivers


I met up with a friend of mine from school the other day. We were meeting after two years and we were both studying the same thing so just for conversation sake I asked her the dreaded question… ‘What are u going to do after graduation?’ Her exasperation and piteous expression answered the question and I felt a kind of sinister joy in knowing that she belonged to the same league as mine…the league of the non-drivers.
We then started talking why this question is so dreaded to us when most people can write thesis on the topic. She could not be called dumb by any stretch of imagination, she is studying in one of the most reputed colleges of kolkata, she had always stayed in the top 5 in our class (without trying to be) and her poetry is beyond the realm of at least my understanding. Yet I find her in the same spot as me. Somehow, the first day of class never spelt ‘the first day towards examination’ for us, nor have we ever planned beyond a day, in fact plans scare us and we scare plans. Somehow it seems we never quite caught the wagon of competition nor have we ever tried to chase it, not that it is a good thing at this time and age. But the fact remains we have always been the cats sitting on a wall singing merrily…watching the rats go by.
I am filled with wonder when in retrospect I remember all those people and their planning. I had this one friend who would take part in every activity possible whether she was any good at it or not, something I could never do. I used to admire her for her enthusiasm. But by the time I reached my last year of school she let me in on the secret. She did all that (ever since I can remember) to have a good collection of certificates not for the sake of collection but as a passport to a well-reputed college. By that time I was way behind her in the game. Even if I had known this trick earlier, I wonder, would I have been able to acquire certificates just for the sake of it?
Well she managed to achieve her goal and
I am really happy for her. And I wish the same for all the drivers and over-drivers…I truly admire them. So kudos to the mba tuitions and montessory training classes and the MCs and whatnots in the making. But I wonder what is to become of us ‘non-drivers’. Will we ever be able to study only for examination sake? Will we ever be able to plan for the future and stick to it? Will we ever overcome our phobia of plans…will they overcome theirs? Will we ever be able to join the race or at least the chase? But the bigger question is will we ever want to?

Saturday, March 14, 2009

Eyes sting with unknown tears…

Heart seeps in unknown fears…

Why does the unknown break us so?

Why do aching seconds go by so slow…

This loneliness knows no end…

One can be lonely sitting beside a friend

For the doors within our being…

Are more secure than ones that can be seen.

I cry n cry till my eyes burn red

Till silence booms n senses dead

Till I float out of myself to take a look around

Till my deadened ear sees a sound…

Why I cry I do not know

What unsaid passions shake my body so

I do not know if I want a shoulder…

Or do I cry alone?

Monday, December 1, 2008

I once believed in god...quite diligently that too.I believed he was there just out of reach but always close by like a father teaching their child to ride a bicycle,letting go but lways making sure that he was there to catch us if we were to fall.But life threw up many surprises most of them unpleasant some seeming so merely through the eyes of a 'troubled' teenager and some tangible pain whose effects stayed long after its cause.And slowly i found my faith ebbing away not quite gone but from strong belief becoming a faith of mere convenience which is the norm of the adult world as it seems.I would still atleast blink at the idols if not join hands,before i leave for an exam and before the results...forgetting all self restraint pray ferverishly and shamelessly to the same god who is forsaken for the rest of the year!Still,when the shadow of ill and misfortune falls upon us or our loved ones we betray a pleading look towards the skies.But is someone really there?Has there ever been?
Such are the times that on one hand more and more people are losing their belief in god and on the other hand more and more people are embracing it.those who lose their belief do so for they think that if there truly was a god he wouldnt let all the bad things that are happening to happen.While the other group seeks solace in the belief that perhaps there is a greater purpose a greater plan.I for one am a self professed pessimist and i believe-this is the plan.Everything in this world made complete sense before Man came to this world to create havoc..dinosaurs were also too hard to control they wre too big..too ambitious..and they met their doom.One man Caesar had to fall too his only crime being that of ambition..it is only natural that mankind too should follow suit.
The world is in a self destruct mode now and the countdown has begun.Nature is forsaking the human kind..humanity is forsaking the human kind..so is it wrong to suppose that maybe god is forsaking the human kind?So what do u think?Does He exist?Does He have 'a plan'?Do You believe?People who know me must wonder why this sudden wonder about divine...then again people who know me know what strange and sudden things so often cloud my mind..

Monday, October 27, 2008

Six...





She took off her glasses and rubbed her tired eyes. She finished writing out the reply for the last letter in the lot. And now felt physically and mentally drained after her long day’s work. She had to drop the letters and her replies at Danny’s office first thing tomorrow, now it was his business which ones he would publish. She had done her bit. She often felt doing her practice along with her column(‘Dear Doc…’) was a bit too much but she did not like to back out of anything until she absolutely could not take it anymore, and she did not feel that just yet. She looked around her table; everything was in perfect order, just as she liked it. She frowned at the truant book which peeped out of the otherwise perfectly neat stack of psychiatry books which she treasured a lot. She tucked it back in and felt better. The sharp light of the table lamp then fell on an object which seemed completely out of place. A slightly battered cardboard box, clumsily decorated. It would have stuck out even if the light did not shine directly on it. But instead of being repulsed by the only seemingly imperfect object on her table, she smiled at it fondly. She picked it up to admire it as she had done so many times before. Decorated with tiny stars and glitters and written across its side in rough letters-‘Happy Mother’s Day, momma!’ Her daughter had made it for her when she was only six years old. She had given many such little gifts but for some reason this one held a special place in her heart and likewise on her immaculate table. She now used it to keep her stationeries which was the excuse she gave her daughter who was very embarrassed of her juvenile creation, but in truth she just liked to see it all the time ,somehow it calmed her. She quickly placed her pen in her special box, glanced over her table one last time, noticed an unopened letter at the far corner but didn’t bother much. She knew that one could wait. She switched off the table lamp, got up and walked over to the room opposite hers.


She opened the door slightly and saw her daughter, her life, sleeping soundly. She was going to be 11 soon, almost a teenager. The thought filled her with joy as well as apprehension. She dealt with teenage girls on a daily basis, in sessions, through letters; they seemed in constant state of distress. Even though she dealt with them quite well, but when it came to her own daughter…she dreaded to think about it. She whispered good night, shut the door lightly and walked over to her own room. She then began her ceremonious bed time rituals-first the all important bath, in every season with cold water, prayer and the laborious task of unmaking the elaborately done bed. She knew she had a mild touch of OCD which had intensified slightly over the past 4-5 years but since she was well aware of it she knew she could keep it within the limits of sanity. Besides since when has a little extra neatness harmed anyone?


Next day began like any other. She woke up at 6.am like she always did before the alarms could even go off. Brush her teeth and splash her face with water six times, lay out six outfits out of which she would pick one and then rushed to the kitchen to make breakfast for herself and Michelle. Today too she did exactly that and on the way to the kitchen she knocked on Michelle’s door and asked her to wake up. She rarely needed to be told twice, she was very punctual in that way. In 45 minutes she would be down for breakfast. Sarah noticed of late Michelle took a little extra care of her looks, fussed over her hair. Her school had a uniform which she would often complain about but she tried every other way to look her best…trying out different hairstyles, watches and the like. Sarah found it quite amusing but didn’t say anything. In fact she noticed that a casual compliment really brightened her up. Today she came down with her long dark hair scattered around her head and over her shoulders and a truly angelic glow on her face. She smiled brightly and said in her delicate voice, ‘mom, could u tie a high pony for me please?’ Sarah was mildly taken aback. Michelle refused to take help in most of the things she did nowadays and felt insulted when it was offered. She hid her amazement and just smiled, beckoning her towards herself. As she combed her hair she asked, “You look very happy today! Had a nice sleep?” “Yes”she said “And a lovely dream!” Sarah noted the long drawn stress on the word ‘lovely’ and paused to look at Michelle’s face. Michelle developed a mild pinkish hue on her cheeks and exclaimed rather awkwardly, “What?!” Sarah shook her head and bit back her laugh…she thought of her own childhood as she combed her hair…1, 2, 3,4,5,6 times…


Sarah reached her chamber by 9 having dropped Michelle at her school and the letters at Danny’s. She sensed that Danny tried to be more than just her work associate. He would often try to flirt but would back away when he saw no response. He wasn’t a bad person really, jolly, happy-go-lucky, always full of laughs. But for Sarah, it was a matter of principle. She believed in keeping her professional life completely separate from her private life, especially in her profession it was absolutely essential. It’s too easy to get lost in the maze of people and their minds. Though in that sense Danny was pretty safe but still her principles bound her and besides she wasn’t really interested in a ‘relationship’ as such. Her daughter was her world and honestly she was all she needed. She thought of all this in the elevator on her way up to her chamber on the sixth floor. The building was essentially a non-medical office building but she liked the view and by a stroke of luck she found the sixth floor space and she immediately booked it and it proved lucky for her. She has been practicing here for five years now and was quite well known, strictly professionally of course. She bid a polite greeting to Maria her secretary and took her appointments for the day. She inwardly groaned as she saw the long list of names. Mostly were regulars. She noticed one new name. She enquired about it. Maria said “oh! Her mother made the appointment for her. She says the woman is in quite a state. I’ve written down the particulars if you’d like to read it?” Sarah said she would and took the little piece of paper, thanked her and walked inside her chamber.


The morning rushed by in a haze. Sarah sat back in her high backed luxurious leather chair, her object of indulgence so as to say which she felt she deserved, with a cup of hot, strong coffee placed on the table by Maria. She leaned back, closed her eyes trying to sort out the clutter of her mind. She had to prepare herself for the next case. After a minute or two, after she felt moderately sorted out, she opened her eyes and checked her list to see who her next patient was. She saw an unknown name and was puzzled for a moment then remembering the conversation she had with Maria in the morning she started looking for the piece of paper with her particulars. She found it tucked under the desk phone on her table. ‘Priya, 30’….6 times 5 thought Sarah…’recently lost her nine year old daughter in an accident and is unable to come to terms with the loss.’ The brief sent a shiver down her spine and unwillingly the face of Michelle flashed before her eyes. She scolded herself sharply and took a sip of her warm coffee which comforted her a little. With a gulp she emptied her mug, closed her eyes and counted till six. When she opened them again she felt much calmer. This would be difficult for Priya as well as herself.


Danny sat in his office enjoying his coffee break. Having sorted out the letters and Sarah’s responses for publishing and most of his other works sorted, he felt a bit relaxed. He opened his drawer and pulled out a slightly battered Polaroid picture and admired it. It was Sarah’s, taken six years ago when Sarah first came to his office. Danny found her attractive the moment she walked in that door. She had come in response of the ad he placed for someone to write his ‘Dear Doc’ column. He wanted someone to be associated with psychology for the job. He detested riff-raffs who thought advising was a piece of cake. A lot of thought had to go in; the consequences had to be equated, not only for the aggrieved but also for the company. No one wanted law suits to be stacking up as a consequence of a casual advice. Sarah of course was over qualified. A practicing psychiatrist, soon to open her own chamber, but something her intrigued him. He even obtained a photograph under the slightly false pretense of ‘company policy’. She looked so calm and serene in her blue jeans and formal white shirt. She was always polite but distanced. They had been interacting for so long but he knew practically nothing about her except that she had a daughter whose photograph she would carry around. She was an enigma and he was intrigued by her…


Sarah stumbled outside, her whole body shaking as beads of cold sweat broke upon her forehead. She felt hot and cold at the same time. She hailed a taxi…she needed to go home and she could not drive in her state. She sat on the threadbare seat and hid her moist face in her cold trembling hands. Priya had been cold and stony initially as Sarah guessed she would. She wouldn’t speak and seemed as though she couldn’t hear her. Sarah tried to engage her in conversation and in an attempt to do so she began talking about her own daughter. The word ‘daughter’ lit a faint light in her otherwise vacant eyes. Sarah could not believe that she was overruling her own principle, merging her two lives together but Priya’s condition seemed to touch her otherwise seasoned heart. Sarah showed Priya Michelle’s picture. Sarah noticed tears welling up in Priya’s eyes. She waited. She knew she had broken the barrier. For a whole minute silence prevailed in the room. Even the tears flowed out of Priya’s eyes silently. Sarah decided it was enough for the first day and was just about to dismiss the session when a heart wrenching cry startled Sarah. She saw Priya looking around with wild eyes and screaming. And just as suddenly she broke out into a howl simply saying “my daughter…where’s my daughter…?” Her mother rushed inside to pacify her but she was uncontrollable. She well to the floor and squirmed as if writhing in unbearable pain. Sarah stood frozen behind her desk. She never had to witness a sight like that since she mostly dealt with milder cases. A couple of more people rushed inside trying to carry her out, she did not know who they were but she saw Maria behind them looking quite frightened herself. Sarah felt her legs giving way beneath her and she swaggered out of her chamber…seeing dark spots before her eyes as the words rang in her head…”my daughter…where’s my daughter?”


She did not know how she got to her room…the room swayed…face burned. She forgot all her ceremonies all her rituals and walk passed her desk without inspecting it. The unopened letter still lay unattended. She needed to sleep. She was tired…very tired.


Danny tapped on his watch and brought it close to his ear. He then stared back at his watch. It could not be. His watch couldn’t possibly be working right. It was 9.20 and Sarah hadn’t come in yet! In all the years he had known her he hardly remembered her ever coming even a minute before or after 8.40. And if by some twisted doing of fate she did. She was more apologetic than Danny thought necessary. Danny decided to call Maria. It was Danny who had recommended Maria to Sarah so he knew her pretty well. “Sorry Dan sir, Sarah ma’am has not come in today. In fact even I am a little worried, she looked quite sick yesterday when she went home in the afternoon.” Dan replaced the phone pensively. He began to get worried too. He quickly scrambled through his drawers and drew out his address book. He flipped through the pages and found Sarah’s latest address. He ripped out the page and rushed out the door.


He pulled over outside the door and checked the address again. He had always had her address but never been to her house. He walked over to the door. He noticed the morning newspaper and the packet of milk at the doorstep, seemed strange a meticulous woman like that would leave it lying around like that. He picked it up and knocked lightly at the door and called out Sarah’s name. No response. He called louder…still no answer. He tried the knob and it turned and the door opened. He hesitantly entered still calling her name and feeling like a trespasser. He walked through the drawing room and saw two rooms facing each other the door of one of which was slightly parted. He hastened towards it a knot building in his stomach for some reason. He burst through the door and stood frozen at the doorstep. He regained his composure in a couple of minutes and ran out…he needed to make a call.


The ambulance arrived soon and proclaimed exactly that which he dreaded…Sarah was dead. The police had also arrived. Danny didn’t need to be there the empty bottle of sleeping pills and the slashes made on her wrist were proof enough that it was a case of suicide but he wanted to be there. He walked over to the table and as his eyes swept over the orderly table he noticed an unopened letter at the corner of the table. He went to pick it up and was immediately stopped by a policeman. Dan explained the column and that he suspected it was one of those letters. The policeman backed away. He ripped the envelope and drew out the letter. It was dated 5 years ago. He read ‘Dear Doc…’ he was shocked at the neat handwriting he read on…


Dear Doc,


Yesterday I took my daughter out to the park. She loves it there. she is only six but very intelligent and a nature lover. She tells me she’s going to be a great ‘animalist’ some day…that’s what she calls it. She likes to chase butterflies but never touches them…she knows how delicate they are. Yesterday we planned to have a little picnic and as I was setting it up under a tree I heard her call out to me. She was at the far end of the park chasing a butterfly and telling me how beautiful it was. She ran and ran right into the streets and just as I was going to call her back a speeding truck just crushed her and went on remorselessly. And there lay my delicate butterfly. Dear doc, please tell me it was a dream…it didn’t happen did it? It couldn’t. My angel, my Michelle is alive isn’t she…? Yes. She is alive…she is alive….




Yours sincerely,


Sarah


Danny thumped down into a chair. In all these years, he never knew. By now the crowd of people had moved to the other room. He too slumped behind them. And entered what seemed like a young girl’s room. Pink paint on the walls, dolls and many, many pictures of a girl from infancy through to age of six…chronologically arranged. And out of the several dolls the biggest and the most life like one lay in the soft adorned bed almost like a real child. Danny rushed outside…his eyes stinging suddenly. And he saw Sarah’s body being brought out…her face calm and serene…the slashed wrist rolled out of the covers and he counted the cuts…1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6…….




Sunday, August 31, 2008

Dear you...
Sorry..i need to write that..side effect of keeping a diary you see..don't know why i suuddenly chose to write my blog as a real blog for a change..maybe its a part of my resolution of my new college year to be more outgoing..extrovert maybe?this year till now has been the worst one i have seen in my conscious life.everywhere around me i see people dying,seperating and just breaking age old bonds..a year of losses so to say..but in some cases 'loss' seems an awfully short and feeble word to express the feeling.a very close friend of mine lost her mother less than a week ago and she said something that really made me think..she said.."its so easy to die,na?" really it does seem so easy to die..suddenly gone,a person who used to talk walk and behave like any other person in an instant becomes a shell..and then a mere memory!its so easy...
I'll share a secret with you..you might hate me for it but i cannot help it..the fact is im terribly scared of dead bodies!i mean even if the person is or was my closest of kin and dearest to heart the sight of their cold,dead,limp bodies fill me with more fear than sadness.last november i lost my grandmother whom i was very close to and her body is one which i most vividly remember.when i saw someone hugging her dead body and crying i cringed and shuddered when i was asked to touch her feet to take her last blessings.what i felt beneath my fingers felt nothing like my 'nana' (grandmother)..it didnt have her warmth..her colour nor her spirit..it felt cold and alien and i felt honestly..sick!i was very ashamed of my feelings later and dared not say anything then but later when i thought about it i found my feelings aptly justified.it was not her plump body or her wrinkled skin that i loved and cherish it was the spirit in her.her warmth,her compassion..her being..all of which had left completely by then and all that remained was the shell.it was just lik a cong shell without the inner being which we sound at the end of any grand puja..when i came to know that it was actuaaly a home to a creature which lived and probably died in it i was almost equally disgusted and wondered how anybody could touch it to their lips!another thing i did not understand why i needed to take the last blessings from a shell..and why should it even be last..I believe she is still around.
But to me the most cruel part of life is that it goes on..we keep losing we keep falling getting bruised and broken..we feel everything has lost its meaning but yet life still goes on..at several points in life i felt this is where everything ends..there is nothing beyond it..nothing else mattered.but then here i am sitting and writing..even philosophizin about life.but at those moments if somebody came and told me this i would have probably found it heartless and the speaker ruthless.there are some things one should realise by themselves there is no greater teacher than experience and no better support than silent empathy..and now i end my banter and pray that the following few months left of this ungodly year may pass without any more unfortunate incident..cause when philosophies fails,hopes run dry and then men risk losing their sanity.......

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

I usually write my blog in english..bt somehow this special one did not come as well in english..it was becoming too artificial too articulate..so i go to my roots to express the deepest sentiment..i write in bengali...

Se chole gelo…

Hotat..kichu na bole,kichu na sune

Koto kichu jeno bolar chilo

Koto kichu jeno sonar chilo

Domka hawar ek jhaptae

Amar hridoy-e ek sunnotar ghurni jhor tule

Se chole gelo..

Jokhn chilo tokhn take chintam-e na

Chenar ki chestao korechi kokhno?

Ekhon sabe tei jeno take khuje pai

Almari te bondi tar jamae

Khater kone..balishe tar sei nijeshyo gondho

Je ghoti chure merechilo…

Sei ghotir bakeo takei khuje pai

Se chole gelo..

Amae ofuronto sadhinota die

Amae hajar hajar ‘ekhla ghor’ muhurto die

Tokhn ja ja korte cheyechilam--tumi korte daoni

Sab die gele..

Rag kore mukh firie chole gele..

Sab nie nao go maa..amar kicchu chaina

Sab nie nie..tumi fire eso maa..

Tumi fire eso…

Friday, June 13, 2008

Sweet Poison

I do not know y i do this to myself..

Again and again i claw at my wounds,

Making them raw once more.

Why can i not let go of the deceit..the sweet poison of a friend.

A friend-who made me rethink the meaning of the word.

Years have gone by and yet the words still ring in my years..

"Thanks..it was nice being your friend" !

I turned away in a huff..but as i did i felt the ground beneath me shake..

It was so easy..so cruel..

Her frosty words sent a chill through my body..the tears froze in suspension

I ran and i ran..

And as i ran the scenery became just a blur..as i ran faster and faster

Away from the hurt away from myself..just away.

I'm still running..away from people..from compassion..

For every time i stop..i find myself alone

I cringe at a warm touch and smirk at a kind word..

I look at the world with narrow untrusting eyes..

And i owe it all to you..my sweet poison friend!

Friday, November 2, 2007

Candle in the Wind..

A soft silent gush of wind blows out the candle,
All that remains is the smoke,
The smoke that seems to fill our lungs,
hearts and souls
The soot staining our memories forever.

We sit there in the dark,all lost in our thoughts..
As the darkness seems to stretch on infinitely
We miss the comforting,guiding light of the candle,
mourn its absence.
Few wonder will they ever be able to see again?

Then suddenly the light comes on..
Harshly..inappropriately bright.
Each one seem to awaken from their daze,
looking around with a bleary eye
Slowly their eyes get accustomed to the blare

Some begin to stir..realising its time to move.
Life moves on..
But those closest to the candle shall forever bear
the soot stains.

I know i will..
We will miss u..

In loving memory of my grandmother who passed away on 1st Nov.

Wednesday, October 24, 2007

Nothing

Loneliness is a state of mind..
It is the deep,dark abyss drilled
Into the very core of your existence.
Darkness here is beyond definition..
Solid..like a thick dark blanket..
Suffocating you..
Silence is overbearing,deafening
Where the sound of your breathing
Seems obscenely loud..

I'm falling in this sinister cavity..
I scream..knowing well there's no one to hear
Yet i scream,but the deafening silence prevails
I desperately struggle to hear the resonance of my cry
Any sound,any sign,any proof of my existence.
But i hear nothing,i see nothing..
Just the infinite silence..the drowning darkness.
I am tired,I stop struggling..submit myself

I find myself floating,suspended in nothingness
My eyes are open or shut,i don't know,it doesn't matter
My mind is numb,hollow,serene..
Now I seek nothing,demand nothing
No memories,no emotions
no expectations,no liabilities..
I am floating in nothingness
And now i feel nothing..

The Fate of Mankind

The first rays of sunlight strike the horizon,
Amidst the haunting shadows of the night..
A golden glimpse of hope.
The still waters burn fiery red,

The sky flooded with a crimson shade,
Creatures of the day..
Some timid, conscious oftheir very existence,
Some vicious birds of prey.
Slowly they venture forth,
To be bathed by the morning sun,
With their dreams,their plans,
To enjoy again their freedom run.

The symphony of the wild rings,
Nature the greatest composer.
The twitter of birds, the bark of a dear,
The impatient sounds of the spring so clear
.But suddenly the sound of gunshot
Pierces through the melody,shattering the harmony,
the broken pieces lay at the gunman’s feet.

The smoke fades but the stench of violence prevails
And instead of music, a desperate struggle is heard
With fluttering wings and pleading eyes
A dove struggles to live…
A struggle for humanity, for peace,

But the dove will not live..
Cause the gunman is eager for his prize,
The lifeless body of the beautiful dove.
And that’s what we will get..
A lifeless body, a mere shell
Devoid of love,devoid of peace.
A world where souls are chained for eternity..
Here lies the grim fate of our humanity.