THE FAREWELL

Its a great place, Kalaupapa. The sun shines brightly, the green of the surroundings seem to envelop everything and the cool breeze just makes it the perfect place for hiking. As one climbs up, the breeze seems to pick up, thus relieving the hiker of his fatigue somewhat and building the anticipation for the journey that lies ahead. I stood there on the narrow trail as the breeze stroked gently against my face. Nikhil stood some steps in front of me, gulping down water and ofcourse, Saurabh gave me a menacing look as he passed me by, out of his breath. Lazy Fatso.

It had been a lazy morning, as usual. They thought of going to the class several times but decided against it. Nikhil came running as Roshan and Saurabh sat on a bench eating chips and watching other students play football.

Nikhil(still panting and smelling of cigarettes): Guess what.

They waited for Nikhil to say something but he just seemed to pant even more.

Roshan: Speak up fucker. What ??

Nikhil(grabbing the chips pack from Saurabh's hand): There's a new English teacher. Some guy called Geremy Jones.

Saurabh: They got one straight from England.

Nikhil: No, you dumbass. The guy is some Christian, lives near Sadar Bazar.

Roshan: Cool. When do we get to meet this Jones guy.

Nikhil: Right now. His is the next lecture.

Roshan: Damnit. That’s too soon.

The bell rang indicating that lunch time was over. The three of them lay on benches as other students rushed back to their classrooms, no matter what they were doing. In all that chaos, a boy accidentally pushed Roshan. Roshan was infamous for, well, for what was to follow.

Roshan:Can’t you see, you idiot.

Boy: Sorry. I…. I just tumbled.

Roshan(with a mock smile): No, No no no. You will tumble now.

Roshan stood up, took the boy by the collar and punched him in the belly. Students were all too familiar with this, so the boy just ran back to the class, grimacing in pain.

Nikhil: Nice shot, Rocky.

If Nikhil did cigarettes, Roshan did people.

Some locals passed us by. Their faces lit up as they saw us. Well, we were foreigners there and those people didn't meet many. This was the beauty of exploring an unchartered territory. You get to meet people when they least expect it and the reaction that follows is one of the most honest you will ever get to see. Speaking of honest, the expression on Saurabh's face was honest too. It seemed like he would fall over, tumble down and roll back to the bottom any moment now. I asked him if he was OK. "Roshan you bitch.", he said with his hands on his knees, " I am fine." Nikhil lit a cigeratte. "You've got to smoke everywhere, isn't it", I asked him. He looked at me casually as smoke escaped his mouth. "Yeah", he uttered finally. It was great hiking around with friends you had met after 2-3 years. Still a long way lay ahead of us but for once the journey was as good as the destination even though the destination was no ordinary one.

They reached the class 10 minutes late. Mr Jones was already in the class. Nikhil casually asked him if they could come in and they proceeded immediately.

Jones: And who are you three? Did I permit you to come in?

They stopped mid way and looked at the teacher in bewilderment. He was a tall man with a broad moustache. In a shirt and trousers, to them, he looked like a character from the 70's show.

Roshan: I am Roshan. He is Nikhil and he is Saurabh.

Jones: And you two are dumb.

Saurabh(stuttering): No, no sir.

Jones: Then why does he have to speak for you two.

Saurabh: Sir…Sir…

Jones: Go get seated. Don't be late again. We are reading Act 2 of The Tempest. Open to page 83

The lecture went on. Saurabh was already drowsing and Roshan seemed to be in some parallel universe where there was no Shakespeare, never had been. Some time into the class, Nikhil raises his hand.

Jones: Yes Mr. Nikhil.

Nikhill: Sir, according to the text Miranda was Prospero's daughter.

The class laughed. It was obvious, why did he have to ask this.

Jones: Yes, she is.

Nikhil: Sir, reading the dialogues here, I feel Shakespeare hinted on something we are missing. Prospero certainly seems to have some incestual feelings for his daughter.

The class laughed out loud. They knew what was coming. This was not the first time Nikhil had done something like this. The teacher would go mad now and throw him out of the class.

Jones: You are quite correct, Nikhil.

The class fell dead silent.

Jones: Many critics feel the same. Obviously, the case is well open for debate but that is something many experts have also hinted at. Good observation.

The front-benchers chewed on their pencils. For once, they were not in the limelight.

This was all the encouragement Nikhil needed. It became a routine thing, as routine as Saurabh’s sleeping or Roshan’s indifference. If the English classes were spent in this manner, Sunday afternoons were spent at Saurabh’s house as his parents were away all day.

Nikhil: I like Sunday. It’s the only day when you actually experience an afternoon.

Saurabh: We have our term exams in a week and all you can think about are Sunday afternoons.

Roshan(smiling): Let it be Saurabh. He’s got a Shakespearean dick and it works well for him.

Nikihl(lighting a cigarette): Its called literature. Its my ticket to wonderland, away from all this drudgery of our useless lives. People say drugs do the same but I think literature must surely be better.

Roshan: Whatever you say bro. Good that you have a passion and a teacher who acknowledges your talent. I am still finding something I like.

Saurabh: Oh no. You do like things. You do have a passion. Beating others up.

Nikhil and Saurabh laughed out loud. Roshan was indignant.

Roshan: Shut up fatso.

Saurabh: Term exams in a week and school ends in five months. What are we going to do then? I have no ideas.

Roshan: Who needs ideas? We’ll go for engineering, ofcourse. Everyone does that.

The trail seemed to get narrower as we advanced but the surroundings cleared up. The destination was still some way but the view from that place was so exhilarating that nothing else mattered. The whole village of Kalaupapa could be seen and it seemed as if we had crossed the boundaries of the mortal world and now were in wonderland. It was more or less a horizontal way from here now. We kept walking. Saurabh had bruised his right leg and it started bleeding. I just savored in the air while Nikhil sat dressing his wound.

The term exams were over and teachers had started displaying marks. Roshan had picked up a fight with some boys in his locality and had to bunk school as he would have been beaten up the moment he left his house. He was having lunch when Nikhil came running.

Roshan: What’s up bro. (winking) How was Mr. Jones today?

Nikhil was perspiring heavily.

Nikhil: He failed me.

Roshan: What?

Nikhil: He falied me in the English exam.

Roshan: Are you kidding me? I…I mean…come with me.

He took Nikhil to his room. Nikhil was almost in tears now. He gave him some water to drink.

Roshan: He failed you?? How can he fail you? This is bullshit.

Nikhil(with bloodshot eyes): I don’t know. I don’t know.

Nikhil started panting whenever he was too excited or too frightened. Roshan thought this was due to his smoking habit.

Roshan: I’ll go talk to him. This is not right. How can he do that?

Nikhil: But…you shouldn’t go out of the house. You know..

Roshan(cutting him): I know. I don’t care.

Its treacherous when you are trying to hike with an injured fat man along side you. We wanted to reach there before sunset but Saurabh had slowed down considerably. He had to sit down at regular intervals but never once did he suggest abandoning the trip. We could see the top at some distance now and hear the roars. There was no way we were going to give up. So we did the unthinkable. I and Nikhil decided to carry Saurabh as long as we could.

Roshan went straight to Mr Jones house. He welcomed Roshan but Roshan was already in a fit of anger.

Roshan: Why did you fail Nikhil?

Jones: Where is he?

Roshan: That does not matter.

Jones: I didn’t fail him. He failed himself.

Roshan(swallowed hard): You expect to explain this using some philosophy. He was the best in the class, you know that. Still you failed him.

Jones: The boy has potential, Roshan. No on denies that. But he has to be able to reproduce all that talent on paper. He has got insight, the ability to see things the way others don’t. But he has to be able to use that gift.

Roshan: And how does failing him help matters.

Jones: You see. I gave passing marks to many others who are not half as good as him. And I don’t mean to be rude, but that includes you too. But literature is his domain and if he is not performing according to his potential, he is failing himself. May I ask you a question?

Roshan: Yes

Jones: What are you interests?

Roshan: Like?

Jones: Like what do enjoy doing? What are you particularly good at?

Roshan: I don’t know.

Jones: Why not?

Roshan: I don’t know. This isn’t about me. This is about Nikhil.

Jones: Exactly. And that is why he should have been here instead of you. The boy has problems expressing himself. He may be fine with you guys but then you are his friends. The moment he is taken out of his comfort zone, he flounders. He has to be taught to deal with this problem. And if he needs a push, you need direction. You and your friend Saurabh.

Roshan: What does that mean?

Jones: What are your plans for the future, Roshan?

For the first time, Roshan thought that may be coming here wasn’t such a good idea after all.

Roshan: I don’t know. We’ll go for engineering.

Jones: Why exactly?

Roshan: Because that is what you do when you are a maths student.

Roshan heart was pounding in his chest now.

Jones: Let me clear the air for you. The world is not as simple as it seems to you. Engineering is not the panacea to your problems.

Roshan: What do you think we should do then?

Jones: Search yourself. Do you really want to be an engineer? I have seen countless young people throw themselves in to something which neither did they fully understand, nor did they want. And let it be clear that you, Nikhil and Saurabh are different individuals, no matter how good friends you are. Your lives are not going to be everything you think it is going to be. I have talked to other teachers too. Almost all have the same opinion about you as me. Don’t you want to be doing something which you want. Or do you just want to follow the herd. Because if you do that, Nikhil and Saurabh will follow. So yes, in that respect this is not only about you. Its about them also.

For the first time in his life, Roshan was forced to find a flaw with his reasoning. All Roshan could do was nod slightly.

Jones: Chart a life for yourself. Because you know why?

Mr Jones took out a golden bracelet from a drawer.

Jones: You see this. This was given to me by my father. He loved the sea, being a navy officer, said there is nothing in the world like the vast ocean. After he died, all I wanted to do is stand on a sea cliff, high, you know, and hurl it into its depths, because that is where my father’s soul resides. Watch it travel to the sea from there, stand there at the edge of the cliff and feel free. But I never had the money nor the time, because I fell into the same trap in which you are about to fall now. You and Nikhil and Saurabh. Do something particular and not something which everyone else does. The rest will follow. Find your passion before its too late. As for Nikhil, he has a gift which he should be helped to use. I’ll help him do that.

Roshan already had goosebumps on his arms. He just stood, greeted him meekly and left.

It got cooler as we approached our destination. Still we were out of breath from carrying Saurabh. It seemed as if we were climbing Mount Everest. We had to do it. Drained of all our strength, we dropped Saurabh and sat down panting. Fatso dropped with a thump. Nikhil took out a cigarette and I took out my camera. No matter why we were here, this was a nice place for a journalist.

The whole episode was narrated to Nikhil and Saurabh. Over and over and over. Everything Mr Jones had said about them, the bracelet, the sea cliff, about himself. Every time they had a debate over it.

Saurabh: You know what. That’s bullshit. Those who can, do, those who can’t, teach.

Roshan: When was the last time a teacher asked you to find your passion? By the way, do you know what your passion is?

Saurabh: You….you know….Roshan, you know what. He is good. He is good at this stuff. He convinced you that what he did to Nikhil was right. I mean c’mon!! How can he ever defend a thing like that?

Roshan: What is your passion, Saurabh?

Saurabh(shouting): I don’t have a passion. All right. Is that what you want to hear? You were supposed to fight for Nikhil man. Not take sides with the teacher.

Roshan: You know what. May be what he did to Nikhil was excessive. May be failing him was too much. But this is the first time someone has wanted to know what we are made of. Isn’t that something? At least he can see something beyond our marks. At least he acknowledges Nikhil’s talent. The reason I wanted to be an engineer was so that I wouldn’t have to rot here handling my father’s business. But is that reason enough to pursue something?

Saurabh: What are you saying, then?

Roshan(almost shouting): The reason you sleep in school is that you don’t care about English or Hindi or whatever. Why can’t we find something where we wouldn’t want to be asleep. If Nikhil is good at English, why should he become a fucking engineer.

Nikhil had been quiet all this while.

Nikhil: I’ll work on my writing skills……(looking at Roshan)I’ll do that.

The image of the golden bracelet kept coming back to Roshan’s mind. He tried to shrug it away, but it just won’t go. Somehow it had become synonymous with dreams, with aspirations for him. Why was Mr Jones unable to do the one thing which would give him peace. If it was all about choices, it was time they made the right ones.

The hard part was over. The crashing sound can be heard clearly now as we approached the end. It was a special triumph for Saurabh who wasn’t too sure when we had started out. We had put in a fortune for this trip and fought our families but here we were, all three of us. We reached our destination and as the scene before us unfolded, only one word escaped our mouth. ”Wow!!”

Farewell parties are always full of tears. This was the same. But inspite of that, what the three boys felt was a renewed sense of vigor. Nikhil had considerably improved in the pre-board exams and Roshan had long given up the idea of engineering. They met up with Mr Jones.

Jones: So, going to miss school?

All three said yes.

Jones(looking at Roshan, smiling): So what are the plans once board exams get over.

Roshan: I think I am going to pursue Journalism. I thought long and hard about it. I am thinking of applying to the Delhi University. At least, all this blabbering of mine would be put to some use.

Jones: Hmm…Good. And you Saurabh.

Saurabh: I…I think I am going go for an aptitude test.

All of them laughed.

Jones: You did well Nikhil. I am proud of you. Keep going and I am sure you would outscore everyone else in English.

Nikhil(gave a nod): I hope so, Sir.

The party was at its fag end. People started leaving after the photo sessions. Nikhil searched for Mr Jones before he left, found him in a corner talking to some other teachers. Nikhil went up to him.

Nikhil: Sir.

Jones: Yes, Nikhil.

Nikhil: Thank you.

Jones: For what.

Nikhil: For saving our lives.

Jones(smiling): That's putting it a bit too strongly. The pleasure was mine. Best of luck for all your endeavours.

That was the last time when all three of them together met Mr Jones. Eight years from that day, Mr Jones died in a car accident.

It had been shocking when we got the news. He had a huge part to play in what we were today and ofcourse there was no way we were going to leave his wish unfulfilled. We knew what we needed to do so we had traveled to Mr Jones house before this trip to get it. As we stood there, there was only one thing to be seen, the endless water filling up the whole space before our eyes. “This is it. Kalaupapa. The highest sea cliff in the world”, Nikhil said. “The highest. Yes. Mr Jones would have loved this place”, I said with a sigh. “Wow man, we made it. We are finally here”, Saurabh was exultant, for obvious reasons. We stood there for sometime before anyone spoke. “ You do it Nikhil. You should do it.”, I said. Nikhil nodded. I took out the bracelet from my bag and handed it to him. He looked at it and then at the sea as the waves crashed against the rocks. “Thank you Mr Jones and goodbye”, he said. “GoodBye”, I and Saurabh said too. And Nikhil hurled it. We stood following it through its path to the ocean, watched it all the way until we could no longer follow. It had to be this place as we bid farewell to Mr Jones. It had to be this way, just as Mr Jones would have wanted to do it. Mr Jones’ father was, ofcourse, right. There was nothing like the sea.

" The pleasure is all ours, Sir.", Nikhil said staring at the water.

GLORY

As long as mankind shall continue to bestow more liberal applause on their destroyers than on their benefactors, the thirst of military glory will ever be the vice of exalted characters. ~Edward Gibbon

Year: 2025

Location: No Man’s Land on the Indo-Pak border.

The sun rose in the sky driving away the cold of the night. The barrenness of the desert added to the horror. The silence of the desert can break the spirits of even the bravest. It was dead silent. As the sun’s rays struck his badge with menacing force, the name shined in the emptiness of the place. Vikram Singh Jaiswal. He tried to open his eyes but the left eye won’t open. The eyelid had been covered by dried out blood. He tried to get up but his legs gave away. His body pained as if it was about to explode. I must be already dead, he thought to himself. If not, he was convinced he would die here alone. Just then a voice threatened to shoot if he moved. Despite the threat, it had a reassuring effect on him as now he was not alone. He turned and saw a man sitting some feet from him pointing a gun straight at him. The badge read Joseph Turning.

Joseph: Don’t move or I’ll blast your head off.

Vikram: I can barely move, even if I could, I couldn’t hurt you.

Joseph kept the gun pointed at him. He was still shivering from the cold of the night. Vikram noticed his legs were badly injured too. So there was no way either of them could walk away from that place.

Vikram: Relax. Killing you isn’t the right choice for me now. Besides, we are not under the orders of a commander right now, so we don’t need to kill each other.

Joseph(reluctantly putting his gun down): Did our troops leave us here? Did they think we were dead?

Vikram(shrugging): I am sitting here with you. How can I know that? But that seems to be the case.

Joseph seemed to lose it. He looked around, shouted for help. But nobody appeared.

Vikram: Cool it you moron. They will find us. Stop shouting.

Joseph: Oh now!! Are you going to call help on your fucking mobile.

Vikram: I don’t have one. And if you shout again, I’ll blow your brains out.

They picked up their guns and pointed them at each other. They could have shot but they knew they couldn’t.

Joseph: You Indians dragged us to this war and now I have to die here with an Indian.

Vikram: We dragged you to war. You piece of shit!! Who occupied Pakistan? You or us?

Joseph: Shut the hell up.

They threw their guns to the ground and lay there staring at the sky. Nobody seemed to cross that place. Without food, they knew they would not last long. Vikram pulled out a jerkin from his jacket and drank some water. The English man stared at him.

Vikram: You want some?

Joseph(staring at him): Yeah.

Day 2

They had been there for a day and a third soul had not crossed that place. The sun glowed with all the fury. Occasional winds added to the misery and with dust settled inside the throat, the sensation of thirst became unbearable.

Joseph: We are going to die here, isn’t it?

Vikram kept quiet.

Joseph(shouting): Goddamnit, we are going to die here.

Vikram: Didn’t you choose this when you joined the army?

Joseph: I didn’t choose this.

Vikram: That’s the tragedy of our times. People grow up thinking all would end well even before they have ventured out. You would join the army and grow old retelling the tales of your bravery to your grand children. Isn’t it?

Joseph(irritated): Why not. I just don’t want to resign to my fate the way you have done,

Vikram: O Yeah !! What have I done? What can I do? Can you go and call help. No !!

Joseph: Don’t you want to get out of here?

Vikram: We are at war. We get out of here and one day we might be fighting again and one of us may kill the other.

Joseph: I would like that.

Vikram: So let me kill you now.

Joseph: You don’t see the difference in the two scenarios, do you?

Vikram(after a pause): Either way a life would be ended.

Joseph: That would be an honorable death. (sitting up) that’s the way I always wanted to die if I should, in a battlefield.

Vikram: What do you mean?

Joseph: When you joined the army, you wanted to serve your country and you were not afraid to lay down your life for it if the occasion arose. But isn’t there a way you would have liked to die?

Vikram: I don’t like to think about my death

Joseph: But you do realize that in the army it’s a possibility, always. Well, I do. And when the time came, I would have liked to die staring at the enemy in the eye with a rifle in my hand, pierced by a rain of bullets. Yes, a rain of bullets. That would establish the fact that I was a danger to an array of soldiers who wanted me out of the way. That I did my job well.

Vikram: Pass me the water.

Joseph(reluctantly passing it to him): Don’t drink it all.

Vikram(after gulping down some water): That’s the way all soldiers want to die. You are right. But you have to realize that in the present scenario that is almost an impossibility. We may die here out of starvation or eaten by some animal.

Joseph: I realize that but don’t want to accept it. I want to be found. Live to fight another day or may be live to die a better death.

Vikram(smiling): Amen!!

They lay there for some time. Time seemed to have stopped. They tried to crawl but their legs just didn’t have the strength.

Joseph: I am dying of starvation.

Vikram: Then talk less. A lot of energy is wasted when you keep on blabbering.

Joseph: I can’t even walk far to get some food.

Vikram: What would you find in this place that you can eat?

Joseph: Anything. A scorpion. A snake. Anything.

Vikram: Delicious. I am not that hungry. Not yet.

Joseph: I didn’t say I would share it with you.

Vikram: Then go eat.

They lay there with nowhere to go and nothing to do. It was dark now. The temperature began to drop. It was hard enough to sleep there but with the wounds, the cold seemed to creep into their bones.

Joseph: I‘ll try to sleep.

Vikram kept silent.

Joseph: Would you look out for me if some animal attacks.

Vikam(after a pause): Lets hope they don’t hunt in pairs.

Day 3

It had been two days. They were ready to eat anything that moved. Occasionally they felt someone was moving towards them, but it always turned out to be a mirage. Hope was fast diminishing now. In the high noon, they sat facing each other, trying to nibble at a scorpion’s legs.

Joseph(throwing it away): I can’t eat this shit.

Vikram(still chewing): How can you. You are the great western consumer.

Joseph: What?

Vikram: Dude, you live in a world where even dog food has to be branded. A world where people are told what to eat, what to wear and what to say, by the brands. Or lets say we live in such a world. But you guys started it.

Joseph: You want to justify eating this with that argument!!

Vikram: No, all I am saying is that we eating this here is a direct consequence of consumerism.

Joseph: How?

Vikram: Every action today is a consequence of people chasing a lifestyle, wanting to live a certain way, believing certain things.

Joseph: Like what.

Vikram: Everyday my son gets up, he wants to look like some Bollywood star. Everyday my wife gets up, she wants to wear diamonds. Everyday the Prime Minister gets up, he wants to be remembered as the man who changed to course of history. Same goes for every such person in the world. Your president also wants to go in the history books. Looking after their country’s normal issues doesn’t fit them into the image of a historically important man. So they want to win wars and dominate others so that history remembers them. That’s what they consume. An image obsession. An obsession to be counted as important and powerful.

Joseph: And that’s why there are wars, That’s why guys like us have to fight.

Vikram: We are expected to pay the ultimate price for consumerism. To keep the show going. And if we die here, we won’t ever be mentioned because we won’t matter enough. I won’t have died working for my prime minister’s consumerist desires and you wouldn’t have died working for your president’s. We would have just gone missing. People won’t love to hear our stories.

Joseph: Where does that leave the sense of duty towards our motherlands? If we are fighting for what you say we are fighting for, how do UK and India matter. Are we not fighting for them?

Vikram: We would have been fighting for them if we were real dangers to each other, not just perceived dangers. This is paranoia. Nations live in the fear of being attacked and when that fear gets overwhelming, they attack some other country just to let it out. We are led to believe that we are fighting for our country but in essence, we are just fighting against some country, that’s it.

Joseph: And our deaths? What about the death of soldiers?

Vikram: That is the only thing that gives us a sense of duty. Even if we are part of this huge game show, we have to play our parts well. And a brave death is a reward for doing your goddamn job well. That’s the only solace that lies in this.

Joseph: Like I said, that is what we are being robbed of by dying here.

Vikram: Yes. The rain of bullets is the ultimate prize.

They waited and waited and nobody showed up. Hunger was getting to them now.

Joseph: I can’t stay like this for long.

Vikram: Don’t worry. In some time you would die a totally inconsequential death.

Joseph(staring at him, then after sometime): We may not be found. In all probability, they won’t even search for us. For all you said about consumerism, I still wanted to go back have a Big Mac with my kids. Now that a good death seems impossible, that’s the only image I am clinging on to.

Vikram: I understand.

Joseph(with moist eyes): I would never see them, would I. Isn’t it hard to die when you have all the time in the world to think about it. If we are found, wouldn’t it be a shame that we were lying here all the while war was going on. We wouldn’t have played our parts.

Vikram: If my army finds us, you are doomed. If yours finds us, I am doomed. There’s no way both of us are going to be rescued. They won’t even kill. One of us would be a prisoner of war. I should have died in the war.

Joseph: Did you ever think you would crave for death like this. Its funny, the things war does to men, or the absence of it in our case. I have been robbed of my duty, I don’t want to be robbed of dignity.

Vikram: In that case, all the possibilities are unacceptable to us.

Joseph: This is the worst that can happen to a soldier and destiny picked the two of us.

Vikram(nodding): At least I like the last thing I would have done before I die.

Joseph: What?

Vikram: Make a good friend.

Joseph smiled and gradually they drifted off to sleep.

Day 4:

The end was near. As much as they could have hated it, they were helpless. The men who decide the fates of nations were not in control of their own fate anymore. Their faces had gone pale and death seemed imminent.

Joseph: If you die first, I would shoot myself. I don’t want to die lonely in this desert.

Vikram(thought for a while): Lets do that.

Joseph: Do what?

Vikram’s face had a new vigor. He seemed to have found something.

Vikram(getting up): We don’t have a lot of time at our disposal. There’s only one way we can make some sense out of this hopeless situation.

Joseph: I don’t get you.

Vikram: What were we supposed to do?

Joseph: What?

Vikram: Shoot each other. Lets do that.

Joseph: Are you kidding?

Vikram: We won’t shoot to kill. Shoot at the arm or at the leg. Towards your back lies India’s territory and to my back lies UK’s. We get shots at each other alternately. Keep moving towards my zone between shots and ill keep moving towards yours.

Joseph: Are you out of your mind. This is crazy.

Vikram(shouting): Yes it is. What else can you do? You’ll be dead before this day ends. At least die doing what you were supposed to do. Die doing your duty. This is not a time for reason. This is our only choice at redemption. This is the only way we can liberate ourselves.

Joseph(shouting): Goddamnit. I can’t shoot at you now. You know that.

Vikram: Then rot here to death. Do you have a better idea? Lets hear it, because we don’t have much time, you know.

They sat staring at the ground without a word. An hour passed by. Another hour passed by. Joseph realized there was no other way to avoid an embarrassing death

Joseph: OK lets do it.

Vikram nodded. They picked up their guns and moved back and faced each other. Desperate times need desperate measures. This was a desperate time.

Joseph: Who takes the first shot?

Vikram: You.

Joseph: No

Vikram shot at Joseph’s arm.

Vikram: Now shoot.

Joseph grimaced in pain while both of them crawled back towards their respective finishing lines.

Joseph turned and shot at Vikram’s foot.

Vikram turned over from the impact of the shot. They looked at each other with bloodshot eyes then picked up the guns and prepared to go again. Suddenly there was noise, a thudding noise which seemed to come closer. Figures appeared on the horizon. In a minute or two, they saw their troops running towards them. The troops reached the location and stood pointing their guns at each other with Vikram and Joseph in between them. The troops asked each other to let their beleaguered soldiers go so that there would be no bloodshed. Vikram rested on his knees facing the UK troops and Joseph facing the Indian troops.

They had come to the rescue. Now they can go back. Go back to the world where……A wave passed over Joseph and Vikram. They felt a sudden chill. How could they go back now? Things would never be the same again. Both of them knew it. Fate had been biased against them. Now they had their turn. As they half stood there, both of them realized one thing. Going back was not an option. But there was another option. God had granted them their wish. This was their shot at glory. Then they spoke.

Vikram: Lets play our parts.

Jospeh let out a feeble yes under his breath as both of them positioned their guns straight ahead and fired. They fired in a frenzy that felt so liberating. A smile crossed their face because they knew what was to follow.

And finally, it rained bullets.

pOLLy sAiD...

So many gurls walkin down the street
Polly is the one ,i would love to meet
Dancing to the sound of her feet
Stoppin even my hearts beat..

On a sunny Sunday noon
Tryin to breeze past the crowd soon
Caught the glimpse of some one in red
Walked a path that i never tread...

Saw Polly and it was end of the line,
The worlds lost in beauty so divine.
Was struck by a bolt of blue..
She turned back n said
"Hello you..."

And Polly said ....
"Hello you..."
And Polly said ....
"Hello you..."
And Polly said ....


The ground beneath my feet started to shake
The sky was falling,lost in dream i never woke
Fumbled something,she was gone
Curse the crowd,this was bad
Lost something that i never had...


Searched for her in streets drunk
Lookin for a diamond in the city's junk
Like dawn after night it shone
Moments later found Polly on hey way bac home

Stopped her cab,said it straight
"I know There is no love in first sight
Whatever it is,it s stronger that Gods might'

She took her time to think about it


And then Polly said
'You are both wrong and right....


and then Polly said
'You are both wrong and right....
and then Polly said
'You are both wrong and right....
'You are both wrong and right....


I asked her for some of her time
Make some mischief and commit a crime..

Polly said....
Polly said....
Polly said....
Polly said....

You know what
Polly said....
Polly said....
Polly said....

i forGive...

take a break from Snap series

I FORGIVE...

i forgive you, the stars, the sign of sun

under which i was born..

for you might chart this life of mine

but to shine bright i aint gonna burn...

i forgive you my mom  dad,

the blood of whom runs in this viens..

for you have shielded all my nightmare

but now my strength is so bare

i forgive you my teacher,

the mind of mine is a image of you

for you taught me ,the what .the how .the who

but for the grind i aint bite the dust..

i forgive you my friend

the embodiment of my ambitions

for you have been behind my back

but now you see things i lack...

i forgive you my gurl

the spirit which entwined my body,my soul

for in your glory i did bask

but you never understood the face behind the mask..

i forgive you  God

the creator of me,my care taker

for you have scripted all i am ever.

but when i took over,you had a competitor.

i forgive myself

the me in everything everywhere

for creature of impulse,devoid of form.

but the life i live,has lots to desire...

Snap: the other side

By R. Lakshminarayan

Hyderabad

(At an utterly useless place called a coffee shop)

1500 hrs

Me: The weather is bad. I thought Hyderabad was a pleasant place.

Contra (Nisheet): u moron, after staying here for two days and ordering water for over two hours in an expensive coffee house all you can think about is the weather?

Me: what? You expect me to discuss my erotic nightfalls with u?

Contra: your conscience doesn’t bother me the least. But come on man, ordering water? I would prefer sneaking into the ladies bathroom to kill time.

Me (laughing loudly): Ok. I just had a question in my mind; what the hell are we doing in this place?

Contra: there is a purpose for our existence, because animals just sleep, drink and fornicate. We have been blessed with the faculty of imagination and reasoning.

Me: Do u think dogs don’t dream about having sex with Carmen Electra?

Contra: On the contrary that is a question of true carnal desires in an animal.Hence, my argument about animals fornicating for no reason holds true.

Me: (murkily) see, now you are behaving like a virgin.

Contra: Ha-ha (condescendingly). Although your exploits with hot chicks is promising and widespread, I can only imagine a sweaty nada reaching for his groin when the real situation arises.

Me: whoa! And you think you are the ideal ladies man who would open the door to the strippers club for a lesbian?

Contra: At least, I accept my shortcomings with a woman.

Me: Don’t you think women are just too busy wondering about their looks all the while. Take for example, that woman, standing near the counter. Look at her ass, the clothes she is wearing would cost nothing more than a weasel in a flea market. Yet she flaunts it as if she was born with her booty. We are just like animals, watching her ass swing to tunes which are primarily non existent.

Contra: Exactly my point, great work in literature has been inspired by women. Our cornerstone of imagination may rest in the assets of a woman, but that also gives us an opportunity to think. A dog on the other hand would think of getting inside her pants.

Me: so you mean to say that our existence is meant for running a doughnut factory.

Contra: yes. That’s the worst way to put it, but our faculty of thought deconvolutes the picture of a woman from a nuclear reactor.

Me: Are u talking about the control rods in the reactor?

Contra: Don’t give me the 10th class science crap. You are just trying to sound intelligent. I want to just make sure you acknowledge this issue more critically. The purpose of any invention is to make sure that the inventor gets a decent fuck.

Me: Yeah? What about the thong? What about robots?

Contra: I really don’t know how to correlate both the questions. They definitely have different explanations. One is related to our sexual desires and the other relates to our la….

Me: (interrupting) if I were you, I would say that a robot doesn’t give a shit about a thong, and females don’t give a crap about robots.

Contra: whoa! Evidently your obsession with women can only indicate that your male chauvinism is revealing its ugly face yet again. I think the only love you have ever experienced is with men. You are a pseudo-gay.

Me: What do you want me to say? See, I only believe that girls can be thought “obstructive”. In fact if we were gals, guys would be thought obstructive.

Contra: I just feel that you cannot control your desire to impress the girl u admire the most. In which case, you would leave no stone unturned to seek sexual gratification. In a way, u would wear your pants inside out, just to impress her. Let me imagine a situation where you are trapped in a jungle. What will be your first reaction?

Me: Sha..

Contra: Wait! Let me complete. You will scratch your balls. That’s all.

Me: what is your point?

Contra: Well, you will never even realize that you are trapped.

Me: Shit! Finally you made sense.

Contra: I know. Wakai (pronounced – wak – e-y i) (Hindi for ‘really’, ‘evidently’)

Me: I think your theory on human beings is flawed on grounds of diversity.

Contra: You referring to the fact that Americans weigh more than their IQ?

Me: Well, it is just that some people have purposes other than just fornication. For example a cook makes good food because he loves food. A Sufi musician sees soul in his music. We just have to admit that the purpose of living is really something which cannot be written down on a piece of paper.

Contra: You are just shitting me now.

Me: Yes, Shit. I thought you would buy that.

Contra: Let us take a practical standpoint. Adam and eve are more than mythical characters. Even though, I was a little cranky about eve doing it with her father, the important thing to realize is that even god wants us to know that sex rocks.
History speaks for itself.

Me: There is something which is anomalous in all this. You have never had sex. Still, you vouch for it. Say you don’t like it. Probably, it’s been too hyped up.

Contra: That’s absurd. The excitement of getting some action makes our life worth living.

Me: But surely you wouldn’t know if you like Disney land unless you see Disney land for yourself.

Contra: Disney land sucks. I would rather watch my gardener scratch his scrotum.

Me: That was a figure of speech you moron.

Contra: I Know. Wakai!

Me: I just mean to say that we read eulogies about sex being the ultimate thing.
Unless we experience the real stuff, we should refrain from commenting on it.

Contra: What about nude ladies?

Me: I have to agree that they turn me on. So it would be apt if we stuck to the zeroth base.

Contra: what in the name of pigeon’s shit is that.

Me: You know. Talking to women. Why is it so difficult?

Contra: It aint so difficult if you stare at their boobs while they are talking. And they think we are good listeners.

Me: Well I am not trying to be chivalrous here, but why don’t gals do so?

Contra: Because we have something which is conveniently far below our waist and we have to zip it up and take care of it when it gets an erection. It’s more like taking care of a baby which will trouble you when it’s raining.

Me: That makes sense. But I still don’t see how men relate more to assets than beauty?

Contra: it’s the rule of compromise. (Grammar not relevant) If she don’t have a good second floor, look at the first floor. Not satisfied, go for the ground floor but have a look at the rear balcony view only. (Winks).

Me: You wink horribly. Anyway, these forms of arguments really tire me. I mean houses? Are we short of creativity here?

Contra: Ok. We could assume them to be like a triple- decker bus and…

Me: (interrupts) a bus!! U would rather compare women with a drug addicted hedgehog.

Contra: What?? Where did a hedgehog come from? You must have sucked at biology or anatomy.

Me: it’s difficult to picturize the analogy but you will be there one day.

Contra: My point is, let us try it out. Let us do something that nature wants us to do.

Me: Ok. You got me. How did u know that I have to take a shit?

Contra: I was talking about us hitting on the same girl.

Me: (changing the subject) Sorry, but If you want to marry me you have to ask more romantically.

Contra: (cynically) would you like to have champagne?

Me: Depends. Have you hidden a ring inside the bottle, and paid the waitress to do a lap dance for me?

Contra: no. I paid a transvestite to hump a camel.

Me: Camels are born humped!

Contra: (brushing the cynicism aside) anyway, look at that chick that just entered the shop. I guess we should ask her out.

Me: Why not? Why don’t we ask her how she got AIDS and herpes together?

Contra: What??

Me: If a hot gal like herself comes alone to a coffee shop, she has the following problems. She is a whore or she has fooled herself into believing that she is a whore or she is a whore and she doesn’t know about it or she is called a whore by guys and nobody goes out with her because she is damaged goods or she was born in a whore house which also did a retail on pretty clothes, or she is married and her boyfriend is nailing a whore or she has some disease in her genitals caused a man whore or she decided to stop whoring around for a while or she is pregnant with a crack baby after whoring around and decided to satisfy her pregnant cravings with a chocolate soufflé or she has AIDS and Herpes together. I would prefer the most optimistic option here.

Contra: The crack whore option is more optimistic.

Me: Come on, now you are reaching out to your sentimental side.

Contra: Wait a minute! I Know her. I saw her at a party in my office.

Me: Your office holds parties? For what? Celebrating their genius of enslaving people for wages that will not even cover your condom insurance?

Contra: No. the boss gets to run his parallel dream playboy mansion. In order to renew his stock he runs a periodic check, reference: “party”, to nail the latest silicon implanted intern.

Me: Now you are getting optimistic and chivalrous.

Contra: What? I just made fun of women.

Me: No. You denigrated your boss. Technically, women were just an accessory in this context and it is socially acceptable to refer to women as objects in a grammatically accurate English sentence.

Contra: I understand your misery. You cannot stand anything in the society. In fact you would love to remove your pants and run around naked just to shake the foundations of the society. But since you are not doing it, I am bound to believe that you still believe in the foundations of a society.

Me: (silent)

Contra: Hey Deepika! How are you (gesturing to a hot chick)?

Gal: Hey Nisheet. Long time yaar. How have you been?

Me: (murmuring) she just met you last weekend. How long does she masturbate thinking about you? I guess not much. That’s why she misses you.

Gal: Excuse me. What was that? Who is this guy?

Contra: He is a friend from Bangalore.

Me: Hello. How are you enjoying the weather?

Gal: It’s a little hot. But had a lot of fun this weekend, shopping with my friends. Then I went to a party yesterday and the DJ was really cool. I gave him my number.

Me: How much do you charge for an hour?

Gal: PARDON?

Contra: oh! No no. he meant to ask you your name.

Me: I know her name. What was it? E-Shit-AA

Contra: no man. Her name is Deepika.

Me: O sorry! Deep-Shit – Ahhhh.

Gal: (squirming with anger) are you a masochist.

Me: I bet you don’t know what it means.

Gal: I know what it means. FYI, it means you are a Sexist.

Me: Whoa! You certainly have daddy issues.

Gal: What does that mean?

Contra: He just meant that you are sexually attracted to your father and you seek guys older than you just because you want to do it with your father. In the process you don’t mind getting pregnant and in fact you want to punish your dad by sleeping with a guy who doesn’t know the difference between a condom vending machine and a urinal. Eventually your dad will find out that you are sleeping with a loser and you will enjoy his misery. But my friend didn’t mean that. He is just a little outspoken.

Gal: Listen! I dint understand what you said, but you are jerks. I cannot stoop down to your level.

Me: I would like you to just honor the stooping down part. I would do the rest.

Contra: he meant that he wouldn’t mind getting a blow job from…

Gal: (Still squirming) (interrupting) shut up! I know what he meant. (Leaves fuming)

Me: Too bad she had a sweet ass.

Contra: Well done. No wonder you can never get laid.

Me: Come on man! You expect me to be nice?

Contra: Ok! Her equally attractive friend is here. Don’t screw up.

Me: (silent)

Contra: Hey Avantika. How are you?

Gal 2: (curiously attractive) Hey!

Me: Her name is hardly horny.

Gal 2: Yeah! My dad knew that. What’s your name?

Me: It’s Lakshminarayan.

Gal 2: Well hard to believe that your parents were sober when they named you. They must not have spotted the Junk in your bush covered groin when you were born.

Me: Kids don’t experience puberty when they are born

Gal 2: Really!! (Condescendingly) Have you reached the age when your pubes appear?
Oh My! I really didn’t know.

Contra: Well we call him nada.

Gal 2: Should have guessed that. So you were ridiculed for your half girlish name in
your childhood?

Me: No I had to just hang out my trunk to shut their mouths.

Gal 2: Let’s hope it doesn’t get stuck in my throat.

Me: I love her.

Gal 2: Hey Nisheet. How about we go for dinner tomorrow.

Me: Great. I would love to join you guys.

Gal 2: I was trying to talk to the man in the room.

Me: My zip is open.

Gal 2: Do you always try to validate your identity like that.

Me: No. Mr. Weiner likes to have fresh hair.

Gal 2: Phew. You are obnoxious.

Me: I am sorry. I didn’t mean to talk like that. I was just …

Gal 2: Ok. I forgive you. So Nisheet, what do you say.

Me: He is Contra.

Gal 2: yeah! Right! And I am your bed partner… in our dreams of course.

Me: I dint make a sexist comment.

Gal 2: Oops I dint know you were making useful conversation. Say Nisheet lets do it today. You free tonight?

Contra: Yes, ye, sure. I will just buy some condoms.

Gal 2: (naughtily) who told you that you are getting lucky tonight?

Contra: Well. It’s not that. I love to see the jealous expressions on the face of my pharmacist when I buy them.

Gal 2: that is what I like about you man. You are so sensitive.

(Nisheet and gal move out)


Me: (to myself) she has to be my future wife.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


Scene 2

Next day

Same crappy place called a coffee shop

1500 hrs

Me: Hey dog! You humped her left and right I guess?

Contra: No man. She was a whore. She just wanted to make her boyfriend jealous.

Me: I think you should be calling yourself a whore.

Contra: Shit man. But I feel good.

Me: Why? U shaved your balls?

Contra: You wanted her badly. It was evident. She was too smart wasn’t she? She turned you on. You were all over the place. I’m sure you feel high and dry. I’m sure you felt jealous of me. That one moment was just enough for me. That was my victory.

Me: Fuck. You are right. I wanted her. She was damn smart.

Contra: Guess we were wrong about gals after all?

Me: I was right about the whore part though. The whole monologue meant something.

Contra: Give it a rest. We never get what we want. The more we want something, the more we end up losing

Me: You sound like a fucked up Afghani in a refugee camp.

Contra: Well I guess we were right about females.

Me: I think so too. They are all whores.

Contra: So how is the climate of Bangalore…?

The End

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Note: the situation presented above is fictitious. The reader is entitled to make his own observations. No criticism on the quality language will be tolerated as it was assumed to be necessary and is based on actual conversations. The nature of the conversation is unique but is also according to the psyche of two unordinary individuals.

SNAP

Half the lights were off and almost all cubicles empty. It was half past eight in the night and the only people remaining in the office were guys with deadlines staring at them or those who had nothing better to do in the outside world. Me? Well, I certainly don’t fall in the former category and I like to think that neither do I fall in the latter. In my case, its just that, this was due. Don’t understand that? Well, let me introduce myself. I am the Lord of work-shirkers. If ever there was a man who escaped from work to catch the six o’clock show or, for that matter, to go smoke while ogling at the neighborhood girls, I am the inspiration behind all that. Or, well, to be more realistic, if my Project Manager had the privilege of murdering someone without getting prosecuted, he would make me run circles before finally finishing me off.

So considering all that, I decided to stay back today just to see how it feels. To be honest it was a bit unsettling at first. It seemed like the whole world was passing me by as I sat here stagnated in my office. Another guy packed his bag and left. There was not a whisper to be heard. But gradually, a kind of quiet began to settle in my mind. This was new!! I felt a sense of belonging. I felt like exploring the office as if I was a tourist visiting an old fort. I wanted to see how it feels to have coffee alone at half past eight. I strolled to the coffee machine. It was off. So it was really that late!! I had outlasted the coffee machine today. Deeply satisfied I returned to my desk, packed my bag and left with a sense of triumph. As I stepped outside, I instantly felt the need for a smoke. I pictured myself proudly walking down the lane that leads to my house as lesser mortals sat fixated in front of their TVs in their underpants. Suddenly my phone rang. It was Nada. It feels good when you can brag about how hard you work in front of your friends. As for Nada. I knew he didn’t gave a f*** about all that. I picked up the phone.

Me: Hey, how’ve you been?

Nada: Stop this nonsense you asshole. Where the f*** are you. What’s all this noise?

Oh!!, before we go ahead, let me introduce Nada. First things first, I don’t have the slightest clue why we call him Nada. The name just stuck and I couldn’t care less about the reason behind its inception. He liked it, we liked it, that’s all that matters. He is a bizarre six and a half foot monster who tries to pass off as a likeable guy. Or is it the other way round!! Well, anyways, he is studying at IISc. I met him long before he crossed this realm of what was humanly possible. I mean c’mon, the guy is at IISc. We wasted away our lives in college, me more than him and ended up as two smoke machines who talked about all that never concerned them. As much as I hate to admit it, he was always right about things.

Me(With a smile): I am returning home from work.

Nada: What the f*** were you doing in office so late? Shagging off to some sleazy south Indian porn??

Hmm, didn’t knew the adjective ‘sleazy’ works with porn too. Ever heard of non-sleazy porn?

Me: Just stayed back for the heck of it. You know, should try everything at least once. What’s up with you?

This is how each of our conversations begin these days before we get transformed into two half-sober(half-intoxicated) guys smoking away in that room in the VNIT hostel.

Nada: Dude, hasn’t life become too mundane. Its like all I can remember is slogging my a** 10 hours a day.

Me: At least you are doing something purposeful, something you like. Look at me, its like I have hit a dead-end and there’s no way round it.

Nada(Made his thinking sound): I think its human tendency to get caught up in insignificant details. We miss the larger picture. Just think, even if you were in an MBA school, you would still be whining about the work load and stuff. May be its in our psyche to never get satisfied.

Me: Ya, you are right. But this is totally different. How do you define satisfaction? I think we both understand that our frustration does not root from lack of materialistic pleasures. May be its something much deeper, a longing for some unordinary experience. You know, something part of the larger picture. In that case we ain’t missing the larger picture, or are we?

It had happened. We had again started one of those talks that lead to nothing but gave us some intangible satisfaction. Well, satisfaction is always intangible so the word intangible here adds another level of ‘intangibilty’ to it. Or at least I think so.

I ‘was still strolling on the street outside my office. I felt no hurry to reach home. The cigarette had burned out so I immediately lighted another one.

Nada: I get what you are saying but unordinary experiences are appropriate once in a while as wake up calls from our deep slumber and not as part of our daily routine. May be our lives aren’t boring enough for something unordinary to happen just as yet. May be we aren’t born to lead adventurous lives.

I smiled at the thought.

Me: Ya sure, but routine leads to a certain comfort zone which can be dangerous. Men need doses of adrenaline to keep them on their toes.

I saw this beautiful girl standing some hundred meters from me. She was wearing a T-Shirt and a Jeans, had long hair and was standing near the bus stop as if waiting for a bus or an auto rickshaw. Needless to say, the information had to be passed on.

Me: Dude, the thing I am talking about is this. Now there’s a girl standing some distance from me. If this had been a chance encounter and I had been talking to her rather than you, that would have been exciting.

Nada: I understand. I am going through the exact same thing but don’t jump on her, for God’s sake.

Me(Laughing): Don’t worry. It takes a degree of insanity to do that and I am not drunk enough.

Meanwhile, I kept walking towards her. Obviously, that’s a male tendency (every guy does it, no exceptions).

It was nine o’clock now and the area looked deserted.

Nada: If she talks to you don’t cut the call man. Let me overhear. I promise I won’t make a noise.

The pun in his voice was unmistakable. Still, somehow I hoped it would come true. I was standing at a distance of some feet from her now. When you work in IT and still have no girl friend, you tend to hang on to the tiniest rays of hope.

Me: What would you have done if you were in my place right now? Doesn’t this have the potential to develop into something out of the ordinary?

Nada(Laughing his monster laugh): Dude, I am pretty sure nothing is going to happen. Not now not ever. Its as simple as that.

I heard a vehicle approaching us and wished it was not a bus as it would mean she would go and I would have to go too. I just wanted to stay there for a while talking to Nada as he shattered my confidence into pieces. Suddenly a jeep stopped right in front of us. Two policemen stepped out. They started saying something in Telugu which I did not understand. I didn’t knew if the girl knew Telugu and just stared at them. One of them approached me and to my utter disbelief held me by the shirt. The other one was shouting at the girl who also didn’t seem to understand a word of what he said. Before I knew, we were pushed into the jeep. I hadn’t cut the call and Nada was shouting at the other end. He didn’t understand either what was going on. In all this chaos, one of the policemen turned to me and reprimanded me in Hindi saying that he will teach me a lesson for engaging with prostitutes.

It all made sense in a flash. She was standing there alone on the deserted road in the night. What else it could have been!! What a fool I was not have realized that!!

As they drove us to the police station, I tried to argue my case with the policemen, but they were not in a mood to listen. The call was cut. I thought of calling Nada back but decided against it. How could he have helped me at this moment. I was furious at the girl, furious at myself and somehow furious at Nada. If he hadn’t called me at that time, I wouldn’t be here. In times of despair, one tends to lay the blame on anyone and everyone. Nada was not to be blamed of course, neither was I. I had asked for something unordinary in my life, and had got a spoon full of it.

Our hands were tied and the girl did nothing but sob all the way to the police station. She tried to convince the officers that she was not a prostitute but neither did they understand much Hindi nor did they let her speak much. After all, which whore would actually say she was one. I was stuck there with the policemen, the whore and staring at least a night in prison.

We were locked up in different cells. Nada kept on calling me incessantly but then they confiscated my cell and my wallet and all that was left of me was a ghost of a hapless man scared to death. In situations such as this, the biggest fear one has is of being ostracized. Physical wounds can never hurt as much as psychological ones. Even if I was proved innocent and let free, it would leave me with the fear of being ridiculed.

I heard a woman officer slapping the girl in the next cell. Now the girl had stopped talking. All she did was crying and the more she cried the more she got beaten. I felt a sense of hope that they would let me go free and deal with the whore afterwards. She was now the only one I was furious at. A policeman entered my cell. I could have shit in my pants right there. I did not know what to expect. Would he hit me, or just shout at me. I hoped he would just shout. Its strange how in dire straits, we hope for things which seem inconceivable normally. He slapped me so hard I fell to the floor. Two more knocks and I was rendered unconscious.

In the morning, I was let out of the cell, fined and let off with bitter words. My left eye was swollen and blood had dried under my nose. As I left, I saw the girl sitting in her cell, her face a mess from all the crying and slapping. She stared at the floor, no motion, nothing.

Last night felt like a distant dream. I remembered talking to Nada before the unthinkable happened. Upon reaching my flat, I washed up. As my roommate had gone to visit his parents in Delhi, I was alone. There was just one thing left to do. So I called Nada.

Me: Hey

Nada: What happened? What the f*** happened last night? Did you get into a fight or something?

I told him the whole incident. He was shell shocked.

Nada: What the fuck!! She was a whore. You should have slapped her twice before the policemen lay their hands on her. Are you OK now?

Me: Yes. I asked for it, didn’t I. Something out of the ordinary.

Nada: Relax yaar. It wasn’t your fault, you know that.

Me: Guess God was trying to tell us how blissful our ordinary lives are.

Friends visited and I told and retold them the story. It felt good to hear them say that I was innocent. Somehow, it reassured my faith in myself. It is at times like this that men are most vulnerable, they need someone to believe in them to regain their self esteem. Days passed and the wounds began to heal. I almost forgot about the whole incident. On a Sunday morning, I picked up the newspaper and ran through it quickly. On the local news page, something flashed before my eyes. It seemed unreal. There was the story of this girl who had been taken away by police while she was waiting for her friends on a street some days ago. They had mistaken her for a prostitute and put her behind the bars. A chill ran down my spine as I read the story. She had been mentally unstable since the incident and what I feared the most had happened. She had committed suicide.

I was almost unable to think for some minutes. I felt a rage of anger surging inside. I needed to shout, shout out aloud at the top of my voice wishing my throat would seize. I had been cursing the girl all this time and as it turned out, the real victim of the night was she, not me. Tears surged up, I began to perspire. The only thing I could think of at that time was calling up Nada.

Nada: Hey, what’s up punk.

Me: She committed suicide.

Nada: Who?

Before I could answer, he knew it. For a minute there was silence on both sides. It was the first time we had failed to talk to each other.

When we are little kids we are taught to be considerate, to look out for each other. The truth is, when we face things on which we have no control, it all comes to nothing. Man is said to be a social animal but society to man is only useful as long as he is not threatened. Under threat, we are beasts, our notion of help and social morals dropped at the first sign of danger. Then all we know is that we have to escape, at any cost. That is what I did with that girl. We learn all the crap in schools and life needs just one moment to show what a mockery we have made of ourselves. This is how life, in a snap, can take away the rosy picture we have painted for ourselves and show us how we look when stripped of the fakeness with which we carry ourselves around.

It was the first time Nada had let me talk on for so long and as I told him this, I knew it was instantly true. At last he spoke.

Nada: Out of the ordinary experiences are meant to teach us lessons which we should follow in our ordinary lives. You learnt it, what else can you ask for.

As always, Nada was once again right.

The wrong train

By R. Lakshminarayan

Prologue

Every situation has some irony associated with it. The irony is either amusing or tragic. Since I travel by train a lot, I believe my responsibility to describe in detail the aspects of travel and the social ethos associated with it, is essential. As they say, ordinary situations create extraordinary circumstances. Again, I wonder whom are people referring to when they use “they”. I liberally assume that “they” refers to a group of cranky village philosophers sitting under a peepul tree delivering random statements with no particular significance. The best thing to do is not to mess with them as they may be wannabe motivational gurus desperate for recognition. My grandmother tells me that it may be their first step towards “shankaracharyadom” of some “new” ancient mutt which will be discovered later by carbon dating and the new TV serial on NBC. However, I should move on with my story about the passenger train “Gondwana express”.

Chapter 1: People

Getting inside a train is an easily forgettable experience. Because, by the time you reach your seat, devious railway agents may already have reserved that seat for three other gentlemen, who on confrontation show pale sweaty faces filled with remorse and exasperation. They realize very soon that until the TT arrives their travelling seat and bed would be the famed Indian railways toilet. After settling on my seat, I invariably look out for the most dangerous traveler – a travelling middle aged lady. The travelling lady usually occupies a lot of space, and it should be noted that I’m not simply trying to pour scorn on obese ladies. It is just that, irrespective of their size, volume, weight, area, and head weight, these ladies carry a great deal of baggage. They probably carry some of their housing bricks with them, just to avoid homesickness.

In fact, given a chance, the lady would hire a carpenter to construct an open wardrobe in the train and shed tears of joy watching her 150 pieces (!!!) of clothing dance with joy in the peaceful wind blowing through the train windows, while other harried passengers would haplessly dash for a place in the already overcrowded bogey, leaving the unluckiest ones to cling on to the ceiling fan like primates.

She would then pull out a mammoth sized lunch carrier from her mountain sized handbag and wait for the train to start. As soon as the train starts to move, she would execute her plan with skillful precision. Out of nowhere, the “she- Houdini” would produce 5 jars of pickles and hand it over to the nearby passengers who hold them with intense curiosity, peeking at the lifelessly floating pieces of vegetables in the sea of oil. Shortly afterwards, she would pass on some of the food to her daughter- in - law who would invariably seat herself at the end of some other coach. Assuming that she is bound by law to not get up from her seat, the travelling lady would play a game of “pass the parcel” with the passengers. By the time the container reaches her daughter – in - law, most of the food is already in the stomachs of vengeance seeking passengers (some of whom are genuinely hungry).

The train is however, not a platform for a one man/woman show. There are other interesting people who unknowingly make their presence obvious. There is always one old man removing his dentures before going to sleep. There is another fellow who would squat like a heron while his friend would lie down like Lord Venkateshwara in his heavenly abode “Vaikuntham”.

Then, there is a first time mother, holding a seemingly claustrophobic baby and adjacent to her seat an experienced mother instructs her confidently on bringing up children the right way, while her 15 year old son is busy gazing at the nonchalant European girl sitting in some other compartment and secretly picturing his own fantasy version of a transcontinental “Romeo and Juliet” with her. There are also some passengers who catch up on their extended afternoon siestas that generally last for days and nights.

Chapter 2: The Setting

This time my compartment had all these characters from the above described social ensemble. The incident I shall narrate involves three compartments in the bogey. In my compartment an old man, two afternoon siesta fellows and two newly met individuals were having a dull time. The two newly met individuals engaged themselves in a dry conversation and alternately assumed the heron and Lord Venkateshwara position, while I sat on the top berth with a magazine as the train chugged through stations. The old man was very particular that his dentures were safe and to ensure its safety he didn’t allow his to eyes wander. It is critical to note here that the two sleeping people made no significant contribution to this setting but I should include them for the sake of completeness and humanity.

The adjacent compartment consisted of the seemingly claustrophobic baby, its mother, the over confident experienced mother and the fantasy driven teenager, all of whom were deeply involved in their social engagements as described in the previous chapter.

The next compartment had the danger woman – the travelling middle aged lady, the European beauty and three disgruntled men.

Chapter 3: The Night

In my compartment the two newly met individuals talked for a long time, exchanging ideas, smiling at each other, posing arguments and twisting their moustaches. They were discussing the outcome of a cricket match between Muscat and Egypt. After a lot of head scratching and moustache twisting, they came to the conclusion that the argument had no significance as Muscat and Egypt probably don’t even have a cricket team (even if they had one, nobody cared as such). The short balding man wore a blue shirt while the other guy sported a French beard and wore horn rimmed glasses. For the sake of simplicity I shall refer to them as “Baldy” and “Frenchie”.

Baldy was a bit younger than frenchie, but frenchie was younger than the old man. As the night descended over the train, the old man made preparations for sleep. The lights were off and everyone assumed sleeping positions as darkness infiltrated the compartment through the windows. After a few moments I heard some strange noises and in moments someone turned on the lights. The old man was up on his feet and Frenchie and Baldy were looking at each other with anger and bewilderment. “Awwyooeh vooeuyyuu? Whaayaay doyeee?” said the old man. It took us time to understand that the incoherency in the old man’s speech was due to the absence of his dentures. After putting them on, he reiterated his words “What is this? What are you doing”? Immediately, both Baldy and Frenchie stood up and shouted “This man is a thief”.

Chapter 4: Confessions

After this development the characters in the train exhibited an unprecedented transformation in their behavior and eagerly took turns to interrogate Baldy and Frenchie separately. The travelling lady was visibly terrified that someone might steal her sandals, which would seem out of context here, but the thought process that goes inside the mind of a travelling woman is so complex that even experienced researchers have often found themselves at sea while analyzing this dangerous traveler. With utmost caution she put her sandals in her purse while people walked all over her luggage frantically, just to catch a glimpse of a thief. The real problem is that thieves usually do not look notorious nor do they have fungus infested faces expressing cruelty. They may even resemble your friendly neighbor- hood spider-man. In fact the spider-man outfit helps these burglars to hide their identities. The important issue at hand was that the thieves were deceptive and, after a lot of thought the old man ordered Baldy and Frenchie to give a brief account of the incident.

Frenchie was conspicuously calm and elegant during his disclosure. “I was reaching for my bag when this gentleman made a dash for my left back-pocket in which I had my black leather wallet.” Suddenly Baldy rose from his seat and exclaimed “Aha, your wallet is in your right back-pocket and your wallet is not black, but brown in color, you liar”. Frenchie gave him a wry smile and said “Oh yes sir, you must be correct; after all I couldn’t keep an eye on it all the time. However, it seems that you were responsible enough to look after it, for me, thank you.” With this he crossed his arms and looked at the confused audience flashing a victorious grin. By this time Baldy had realized that Frenchie had bamboozled him, triggering the sudden outburst of truth from him, which would eventually precipitate his downfall. Baldy nervously explained events which could never possible occur in a train and stuttered so many times that the crowd unanimously felt that Frenchie was a better speaker and had the potential to turn into a politician some day. It was evident that Baldy had technically hammered nails on his own coffin because everyone was convinced that Baldy had made a dash for Frenchie’s wallet. They chained baldy to the upper berth ladder and one exceptionally excited man rushed to the train guards. Soon, the gathering dispersed and people started losing interest in the thief. Slowly Frenchie approached Baldy and whispered to him with supreme confidence “I’m sorry mate, two thieves cannot loot the same train, it just shows that you are an amateur. If you were my apprentice I could have taught you backup measures in case you get caught. You see, the key to burglary is tact, and as you can see I’m a master of this art”.

Moments later, the railway policeman tapped on Frenchie’s shoulder and as Frenchie turned around; his expression underwent a sea of change. Frenchie’s shock revealed rivers of sweat on his face, as soon as he saw the policeman.

Chapter 5: The Culprit

“Mr. Patel, isn’t it? You were the one who stole my gold watch last week from this very train. We were having a wonderful conversation after which, you snatched my watch at night and vanished. That day I was off duty and probably you caught me off guard as well. But, I cannot believe that you would commit the classical mistake of boarding the same train the second time” said the policeman as Frenchie hung his face in shame and disgust. As everyone watched in silence, the policeman released Baldy and frisked Frenchie away to the police compartment. Baldy heaved a sigh of relief and wore a defiant smile accentuating his ultimate victory over Frenchie.

Two hours later we found out that Baldy had just disappeared and the travelling lady’s box of jewels was missing. It is very surprising why no one could point out to the policeman that even Baldy might be a thief. However, the only thing that ran in my mind was the one line Baldy would love to tell Frenchie if they ever met in future- “I may have touched the wrong wallet, but you boarded the wrong train.”

LONG LIVE MEDIOCRITY

When you just thought that things could never ever get worse, the HRD ministry has proven again that it can surprise you and surpass your wildest imaginations. Here’s the deal. 50% reservations for SC ST and OBC people in the hallowed offices of the IITs. When did anyone hear of such an outrageous act of defiance against the meritorious and the deserving? When you have not yet imagined the full fledged ramifications of the quota system, you see the final nail driven into the coffin of merit.

No points for anyone for guessing the fact that it’s an election gimmick. The elections are near and the government is unstable and they are desperate to use every last arrow in their quiver. But the arrows are not aimed at the enemy, but at self-destruction, at the heart of the country’s future. The UPA is unwittingly removing big chunks off the foundation of our nation. This point is an axiom. I don’t have to prove it. It’s so evident from their clause, which says that the rule can be revoked next year, if it is not filled ‘despite all attempts’. A sure-shot ploy to remove it after the elections next year.

Everybody knows that the IITs have pioneered India’s revolution in the education sector, especially in the IT sector. The brilliant students have no doubt been at the forefront of it. But the great minds behind the innovation have been the professors who have guided and shaped them to endure ordeals of humungous magnitudes. It is so thoroughly a disgrace for them to have comrades who share the prestigious podium by default because of their caste and not their grey-cells. There should be a limiting point for anything. Things should not be dragged infinitely. What is the basis in having the quota for professors? How are they going to justify this? What sense does it make to have a quota in teaching? The reason that everyone should be given equal chance to succeed should stop at the school level. They stretched it and got it into college. Even after providing so many undue chances, does a person still need some bypassing the merit list? If so, I feel that the person is a complete failure, not to have utilized all the opportunities thrown at him all along.

What next? salary to the ‘qualified professors’ for just sitting at home? I think that it would be a better option than to utilize their ‘skills’ and spoil the party. Just sit at home and have the cash. Don’t teach us and worsen our already precarious position. Already we are a nation filled with a huge chunk of mediocre and lazy people who want the government to provide everything free of cost from food, water, electricity to even satellite television and more recently color television. Our country has got a very small number of entrepreneurs and high thinking leaders for the population and intelligence pool that we have, compared to other countries. Does the government want to demean it even more? We are a country constantly in war with ourselves and it is left to the elite few to get back some semblance of sanity into our ravaged lives.

No one cares a dime about the country going to the dogs. It so thoroughly disgusts me to read such farces and gimmicks by the elected officials early in the morning when I open the paper. A very nice cartoon depicting the trust we have on our leaders has appeared in the Times today. A lie-detector fitted on the podium where a politician renders a speech. Aptly captures the mindset of the totally disgruntled reader who is so thoroughly helpless. Waiting for the dawn...

Gimme fuel

All along the road,
filled with a thousand stones,
I tried to walk through,
without a groan.

But all I could do was,
dream of another cloud,
with a brilliant hold,
on my slipping shroud.

What does it take ,
to tear apart the chains,
that binds me to the memories,
of myriad pains.

What does it take ,
to break the shackles,
to come out free,
and stir up my passion.

What is it that,
I always wanted to do,
but never really got,
the Guts to do.

Break free oh human!
the worlds waiting on the other side.
You need to travel far,
to get onto their ride.

Look at the old man,
who shines the boots.
He Doesn’t really care ,
for the world that snooks.

Look at the mother,
who belongs to the alley.
She breeds her child,
like a million dollar baby.

Look at all the people,
you need to feel their passion.
For it’s this feeling,
that holds up a nation.

Feel from the heart,
look from the eye.
Drown the shame,
that makes you shy.

Let the world stand still,
as you pass them by.
For it’s the passion in you,
that makes you high.

author's note : I have tried to make it sound more like a song than a poem, having little rhyme. My first attempt at that