Tuesday, 8 October 2013

Diary of a Wife Hitter

Have you ever felt an emotion so strong? More powerful than love? More potent than a lingering hatred?  Know what I am talking of? Guilt.

In those moments after I hit her on the face for the first time in her life, I knew I had done something as grave as a murder. I had murdered the soul that reciprocated my love. I had lost her. I remorsed for days after, I cried to myself, I did not meet her eye (I could not meet her eye). Guilt, is what I felt. In immeasurable proportions. She slept alone, in a room that did not have a bed. Her eyes did not lighten up, when I got back from work the day after. She answered me every time, but no more than in a shallow unhurried tone. Was it the shallowness of my soul that resonated in her voice? Or was it the shallowness of the fading love within her. Or maybe I am too shallow, a man, to figure it out. Then, one-not-so fine day, I hit her again (when I could no longer compete with words in that bloody damned quarrel). This time on her chin. And I cried again. But a little less this time. I felt guilt, but a little less this time. She slept alone, in a room that did not have a bed. And she never came back to sleeping in our room. She spoke less, and spoke nothing of herself after that day. She answered less by her words and more by her nods, after that day. And I had, evidently, dived into the depths of my own shallowness. How does it matter if it was the shallow of my departed soul or her already faded love?

I remember very clearly, how her eyes used to lighten up at the sight of me when I got back from work. And I remember very finely (after that one-not-so fine day) how her eyes went all dull every time I wanted to reach out to her and say ‘Baby, I am home’. She wasn’t waiting, anyway. But I had lost that respect the day I knew I was enough a coward that I could hit her. And I could never win that respect again. Neither did I try (I had proved myself to be a fucking coward already).

Then it happened one-yet another not-so fine day again (when I could not find enough words to counter her in that bloody damned-as-hell quarrel). That woman had the guts to disagree with me every single time (when she knew I would punch her black and blue). Imagine my frustration (after all I am a MAN). Didn’t she deserve to be shown her rightful place? It was her cheek bone this time round. And the cheek bone appeared more round than ever (I concentrated on her face every time). All the beauty of her face vanished and I never saw that beauty radiate on her face again. Did she deserve to be beautiful? Wonder why she used makeup very first thing in the morning. She slept alone, in a room that did not have a bed. She sat alone, in the living room that did not have a T.V. Her eyes were engulfed in the darkest circles I have ever seen on anyone. She did not answer me and her head was too stiff to nod. And I was too bloody over it to weep or to feel guilt. Shallowness of me? What a fucking joke!

Beating, it continued. Thrashing, it thrived. A regular feature for a year or so. I always focused on her face (my favorite area). I beat her; she never cried a single tear. That woman did never protest. Evidently, she knew her place by now. Maybe, she had moved on. Moved on? Moved on to what? Moved on to better things in life? How would I know? I am a MAN. But I can be sure of one thing, her daily chore included makeup. A lot of makeup. Silly woman! Never did step out of the house but was always in the guise of cosmetics. What a wastage! Especially when those cosmetics did not seem to hide her darkest circles. She still slept alone, in a room that did not have a bed. She sat alone, in the living room that did not have a T.V. She stood alone, in the balcony that did not have any stairs. Maybe, that is why she jumped off it!


And something inside me felt guilt again. I sensed again. I cried again. And I was guilty of a murder. Murder of a body. For that loving soul had already seen its death at the first violent kiss. 

Monday, 17 June 2013

Confessions of an Infidel

I have a confession to make. Here it goes…

My darling wife, I wish to inform you that I have always been an infidel. All throughout our married life. Well, actually all throughout your married life (because I have been married more than once, ‘Wink’). Now baby, will you please not act like you are all shocked and devastated, your face looks mighty wicked already. Yeah, now don’t kill me with that killer stare of yours like you will grab me by my neck and flung me across the room with just your hand, because you already are DEAD. LOL… It gives me immense pleasure now that you have kicked the bucket and I can finally have a life. I would have liked to say that my wife left for her heavenly abode, but baby people like you, ‘they go in hell’. Go to hell, you bitch!!! And good luck. Why good luck, you might ask? Because you are about to be deep fried in a cauldron full of hot burning oil. Isn’t that what they do to people like you in hell? Good luck with that.

Did you really think I put up with your constant nagging, for nothing? You were a fool, baby. You were a pest, my darling wife. The first time that I realized I was in an unhappy marriage with you, I started dating my secretary. Yeah, that hot and stunningly beautiful secretary of mine. Deborah! That was her sweet sugar coated name, in case you forgot. Yes, she was married. But what the heck, so was I! Who cares! She had legs to kill for! And abs to die for! And a couple of things more!!!

Now you get it, don’t you? I didn’t stay late at office for work (‘Wink again’). I didn’t go outstations on business visits. Although, sometimes I did go for business visits but it was less of business and more of pleasure (‘Winky Winky’). I just winked two times at you. At most times, it was pure pleasure darling. You remember I got late for your dad’s funeral? I was with Deborah that time, and she just wouldn’t let me go. Well, I came in late for your mother’s funeral too. Nah! You nasty women, I wasn’t with Deborah that time. Do you think I was such a bad man? I was with Betty that time. Yeah, I was badder. Betty was the one I eventually got married to. But by the time I got married to her, I had already experienced the fruits of promiscuity. Did you just call me a bastard, darling? Hell, I am! Deborah was the first, then came Annie, Michelle and Bella followed in later, and then there was the Boss’s tall daughter (taller than me) Elizabeth. Elizabeth was the most sophisticated and the most demanding of the lot (if you know what I mean ‘Winky Winky Winky’). I just winked three times at you.

But baby, there comes a time in every man’s life when he has to settle down. It is the time he has to seriously consider marriage and be faithful to only one woman. At this peculiar point of time in my life, I fell in love with Betty. Oh, she is a darling. You two should have met. But you had other plans (of being DEAD). You silly woman! I feel immense pleasure (yes, I feel pleasure again!) to inform you that I have two sons with Betty. She is the one who bestowed me with the joy of having my own kids and she is the woman who has made my life better. And all of a sudden, the tallest finger of my right hand has started to itch. It wants to wake up and stand on its feet, keeping all the other fingers sleeping in a tight fist.

All this time that you nagged and banged your head at me and behaved like a smartass, I stood tall facing you and laughing at you (not on the outside, though). All this time, I was having a hearty laugh at you. Had I laughed to your face I would have been long dead. You would have murdered me with your weight. That’s right! Didn’t you realize you were fat? ‘Curvy’ is what you called yourself. My finger itching again. Curvy! My foot! A thump of your leg on the ground could have dug a grave! So I chose to hold on to dear life with both my hands and instead, I laughed within. And I have had the ultimate laugh, you dumb woman!!!

Did you just call me an asshole? Indeed. But baby, don’t you think you were much better at being an asshole? Every time you pointed your crooked index finger at me, I wanted to chop it off with a razor sharp blade and chew on it (dipped in loads of tomato sauce and spiced with oregano). You were the most dominating women I ever met. To hell with domination and down with ‘Imperialism’. Middle finger salute to your crooked index finger, you already dead woman!!!

My darling wife, as the black coffin for your funeral is being prepared and you are being dressed in all black clothes, I cannot help but think of your black hair that were so smooth and curly. Probably the best hair I have ever seen. I want to tell you that I was really fond of them. Every time you banged your head at me, they swayed in all directions as if you had been possessed by an evil spirit (that just wouldn’t let go off of you). And at times when you kept your head still, they looked like the nest of a cuckoo bird. Yes, you heard it right! You were that beautiful, darling.

Now I will take your leave and leave you this letter of confession in your coffin. So I can make you jealous and burn you red with envy even before you descend to hell and be burnt there. That is all for now and this is all I could think of to write at such a short notice (you died a sudden death, I could have done with some more time). In case I remember something later, I shall dig your grave and lift your coffin out, open it and stuff another piece of paper in your hideous mouth. You wicked wicked woman!!!


Till we meet again, Sayonara.

Friday, 26 April 2013

I am and these four walls (A Poem)


I am and these four walls
Lay aloof and doze in solitude imposed
Lay till eyes weep
Sleep until I cannot sleep
Walls of melancholy
Roof of dejection
Corners of rejection
And Floor of despair
Do not my broken pieces repair
In a state of delirium, I call for unity*
Except the plead falls on ears deaf
For all the emotions now dead
I am and these four walls

I am and these four walls
Protected, cemented, plastered
From the filthy world outside
Walls raised high
And Walls spread wider
No soul could creep in
No ghost could fly higher
Souls of happiness dead
Ghosts of past demised
Protected from the world outside
Except the world within takes its toll
In beats, flesh and in soul

Sunday, 7 April 2013

In the midst of Somewhere (A Poem)


In the midst of Somewhere, He was Nowhere

Wounded in full, quarter healed, half inebriated in the passion of His desires
He continued with the stroll

Whistling in silence, flowing in the flow, knowing not where to go
He went on with the stroll

Shattered hopes, dispelled beliefs, faces lost to adversity
He plodded with the stroll

Conscious featherweight, feet off earth, conscience weighed heavy
He shambled with the stroll

No purpose on His mind, no want to His soul, halting for a brief
He resumed with the stroll

Seldom (A Poem)


There was a plenty to be expected,
There was a few to be received

There was a lot to be desired,
There was a tad to be fulfilled

There was a mate when I dozed, in bed
It was gone when I dawned, in red

There was a 50 I had,
There was a 100 I spent

There was an eternity at the end of the road,
But the road never seemed to end

More often than not I longed to have my way,
Seldom I had it in the end

Thursday, 4 April 2013

Ki Main Door Jaa Raha Hoon... (A Poem)


Meri nishaaniyan sambhale rakhna
Unse dhool jhaade rakhna
Ki main door jaa raha hoon…

Mere khat apne dil mein basaaye rakhna
Meri har nazm khud mein dabaye rakhna
Ki main door jaa raha hoon…

Meri raah ke deepak bujha dena
Meri yaad ke diye jalaaye rakhna
Ki main ab laut ke naa aaonga…

Jab yaad kabhi aaye meri
To bheetar jhaank lena
Jo raat me hichki sataaye meri
Paani girte ashko ka pee lena
Jab raha naa jaaye mere bagair
Aansoo do aur bahaa lena
Man kare jo baat karne ka mujhse
To goonjti khamoshiyan meri sun lena
Baahon mein bharne ka jo jee kare
To aanchal apna samet lena
Jo mujh sa chehera dikhai de kahin
Aankhein apni moond lena
Ki main door jaa raha hoon…
Ki main ab laut ke naa aaonga…

Tumhare khayaal na dil mein ghar banaayein mere
Main itni door jaa raha hoon
Ki chalte chalte samay se pag chinnha bhi mit jaayein mere
Main itni door jaa raha hoon
Meri rooh ka sparsh na tum tak pahunch sake
Main itni door jaa raha hoon
Main itni door jaa raha hoon
Ki main ab laut ke naa aaonga…


Pigeons on my Balcony


Pigeons on my Balcony


Monday, 1 April 2013

LOVE


Missing you is a part of my daily life. Missing you is a part of me. I miss you when I am awake, I miss you when I am in sleep, I see you in my dreams and I talk to an imaginary you. And because I miss you all the time, I never miss a thought of you. I never really miss you because I live in the missing. This air that I breathe, when you are around, is all so fragrant. My thoughts, then, smell of you. I find myself engulfed in a strange calmness when I am with you. Divinity is not in noise and in restlessness, It is in peace and in calm. Love is divine, I would say. Without a reason, I smile. Without a reason, I gaze at the stars. Without a reason, I look myself in the mirror. Without a reason… Without a reason…

Different people would define love differently but nobody can be certain what it truly is. The essence of love is not in finding its true meaning. No, there wouldn’t be any joy in that. But the heart and soul of love is to discover it yourself, to define it your way, to be vulnerable, to open your heart to somebody, to live in the moment with that special someone. Being vulnerable is the only way to love truly for when you love until it hurts, there is no more hurt, only more love. It is surprising how people can love without expecting anything in return. Such is the power of selfless love.

At most times, I struggle to find words that could aptly express my innermost feelings. Some days, the only motive of my life is to be able to talk to you, to hear you. Tomorrow does not worry me, till I can be with you. Your love is a shade from the scorching sun. Your love is a ray of hope to a restless soul. Your love is solace and your love is a hearty embrace. Your love is my greatest strength. It is my greatest motivating force. 

Thursday, 28 March 2013

Ye Shauharat (A Poem)


Ye shauharat ek khoobsurat pyaasi daayan ki si hai,
Mujhe apni ore kheenchti hai,
Mujhe baahon mein bheenchti hai,
Mere sir ko apni god mein rakh sehlaati hai,
Apni aankhon se mujhe pyaase khwaab dikhaati hai,
Meri palkon pe unhe sajaati hai,
Par jab main iska ho jaon, to ye hi mujhe kaatati hai
Mujhe gehri nind se thapede maar ke jagaati hai,
Mere sapno par se khwaab ki safed chaadar uthaati hai,
Mere maathe pe nukeele nakhoon gadaati hai,
Mujhe apni jakad se giraati hai,
Ye shauharat ek khoobsurat pyaasi daayan ki si hai……

Ye kaamyabi nashe ke adh-bhare gilaas ki si hai,
Mere haath ko apni ore badhaati hai,
Mere honth pe choote hi apni mehak ke dhue se behkaati hai,
Mere sir ko chakraati hai,
Mujhe kaanch se saaf bhram mein sulaati hai,
Aur phir ye hi mujhe subah ke pehle pahar jagaati hai,
Mujhe asliyat se roobaroo karaati hai,
Jab main jaag jaon to mere bistar ke sirhaane baith mujhpar khilkhilaati hai,
Ek kone mein pade toote sheeshe si samajh aati hai,
Jo paaon pad jaye to keel si ghus jaati hai,
Ye kaamyabi nashe ke adh-bhare gilaas ki si hai……

Monday, 4 March 2013

'Dog'gier Than Thou: A 51 'Dog'gy Story


Recently, an Indian stray ‘Dog’gy boarded the Samjhauta Express and got off at Lahore station. The News Channels are claiming that the dog named ‘Gali ka Kutta’ was so frustrated at the Indian Government, its Corruption and Higher Taxes that it wanted to try out a new country. Unconfirmed reports have stated that ‘Gali ka Kutta’ was a regular taxpayer and an honest citizen of the country. The Pakistani Intelligence Agency ISI has alleged ‘Gali ka Kutta’ of being an Indian Spy. Pakistani Newspapers have claimed that ‘Gali ka Kutta’ has been hunted down and slaughtered and its brain has been put up for auction. The Indian authorities are calling it ‘Brain Drain’ and reportedly concerned over it. The family members of ‘Gali ka Kutta’ are demanding that his body be brought back to India but the concerned Indian authorities have declined to comment. Moreover, the vengeful ISI has now sent 50 of their ‘Dog’gy Spies through the same train into India.

An Indian eye witness of the incident was spotted as saying: “This is a ‘Dog’gy move!!! The Pakis are 50 times more ‘Dog’gier than us!!!”

Apparently, the ‘Dog’gy issue still remains to be solved!!!

Thursday, 28 February 2013

Oh My God!!!


‘Oh My God!!!’ A simple, pretty straight forward exclamation. What could possibly go wrong with it? Nothing, you would think. But I, for one, beg to differ. ‘My God’ is what troubles me. The segregation of God into ‘Mine’ and ‘Yours’ puts me in a dilemma. The ignorance of Man worries me. ‘Oh My God!’, prima facie, is only a casual expression that has gained significant popularity overtime. Courtesy, our tendency to ape anything that sounds or looks stylish. But the prevalence and popularity of the expression highlights some of the basic faults in the human nature, which we fail to realize about ourselves. Underneath the many layers that we have within us, there is a basic propensity to differentiate and to discriminate since time immemorial. Whether it be on the basis of religion, caste, social status, economic or cultural disparity, etc. And we have chosen to follow the trend.

Our history is filled with such examples. The Brahmins and the Kshatriyas discriminated against people of the lower castes, did not allow them to worship in temples and were prohibited from any religious ceremony. They were untouchables and if they ever crossed the path of a Brahmin, the Brahmin had to take a bath to purify himself. The Reservation that we face today in education and in jobs is a result of our own past misdeeds. But the question to be asked here is not why there was such a discrimination at all, but why there was any division of people into castes that promoted such discrimination? The Zamindars discriminated against the peasants and deprived them of their rights, forced the practice of bonded labor upon them. The Sati System, later abolished, is an apt example of discrimination against our women bringing to fore the superiority of men over women. If her husband died, she too had no right to live. The Mughals invaded and plundered our country and our women. They destroyed our temples and monuments, which was a discrimination in itself. Today, the Muslims are discriminated against. The British and many European countries, that considered themselves superior, discriminated in the face of colonialism. They considered it a birth right to forcefully enter a country and deprive it of its riches and prosperity. Oppression, misdemeanors, wealth capture, exploitation of people and resources, they did it all. The existence of slavery has been there for as long as humans have existed on this planet. To have a slave was considered something very prestigious in the ‘so called’ civilized societies and cultures. Adolf Hitler, who considered himself and his race of being pure blood, mass murdered Jews.

In the modern day, the scenario hasn’t changed a bit. Only the packaging appears different, but deep inside it is still the same. In 2002, two bogies of a train full of kar-sevaks were burnt by some Muslims which in turn triggered the Godhra riots. Innumerable Muslims killed, their women raped and killed, innocent people killed, places of worship damaged and razed. The 1984 Anti-Sikh riots broke out because the then Prime Minister of India was assassinated by her Sikh bodyguards. In both the cases, two of the biggest national level political parties were involved clearly indulging in politics of caste, feeding on a basic differentiating line between the citizens. Precisely, using the discrimination that existed, to their advantages. The killings of these innocent people can never be justified. Thousands of people fled their homes, their ancestral homes and could never return. Their businesses bore the brunt of communal violence. Irreparable damages were caused.

Can such a humanity be trusted that would hurt its brethren? I, as a human being, feel ashamed of my race. I feel ashamed when people justify violence, they justify discrimination, when they propagate their twisted principles in the name of God. This basic tendency to differentiate and discriminate divides humans among religions and an omnipresent God into various Gods. It is because we discriminate that we worship different Gods. We, as a whole, have deviated from our inner self. A change has to begin from within. A change of this magnitude cannot be effected until the solution is sought anywhere except for within us. We must remind ourselves that we are God’s most superior representatives. We have to celebrate the uniqueness that we all share: A Soul.

Tuesday, 26 February 2013

The Ascetic


“I don’t want to live here. I am going, leaving. I have had visions of myself embracing budhism and becoming a monk. Or at times I see myself going to Varanasi and spending life in the quiet. All my miseries end at that point, where a new life awaits me. A life without aspirations, pseudo ambitions, free of complex relations, a life without chaos. A life worthy of living” read Ram’s letter that he left behind at his table. With heavy steps, Ram moved forward towards the door while his parents still slept. “It was 2 a.m.,” he thought to himself. For a moment, Ram stood there looking in the direction of his parent’s room still wondering if they could ever forgive him. “I am guilty of betraying my mother’s love, I am also guilty of shattering my father’s trust” Ram thought. But the guilt did not seem to deter him from the higher goal. Drawing a long breath, he held his head high and ventured into the outer world. “Barefoot, so be it!” Ram said, staring at the long dark road. He did not know his destiny, all he knew was that he had to walk. Unperturbed, he started walking with the only terminus in mind: Enlightenment. “The beckoning Light, I follow. The darkness, I dispel. The lonely path, I tread” muttered Ram.
Ram was a principled young man, greatly influenced by the Bhagavad Gita and Swami Vivekananda. He could have talked endlessly for days on the subject of spirituality for it was his greatest teacher. He shunned religion and would never visit a temple in spite of his mother’s insistence. Indulgence in meditation was a quality he inherited from his grandfather. But in the past few days, meditation had been an altogether a novel experience. He would see a light radiating at a distance. A light so powerful and emitting, that it blinded him every time he closed his eyes to meditate. It would keep his mind engrossed for the rest of the day until one day he stumbled upon a book by Swami Vivekananda that described a similar experience. Ram now knew that it wasn’t any ordinary light, that there was a purpose to his life. He couldn’t have spent rest of his mortal life in spiritual ignorance.  
As he walked, glimpses from his life kept flashing in his mind. He had a loving girlfriend, loyal friends. To his parents, he was an ideal son. To his friends, a perfect mate. To his lover, the best companion. His advice was highly regarded amongst his friends and family. Many of his acquaintances knew him to be an extraordinary man. He knew he was breaking hearts of his close people, letting them down. But it did not matter to him anymore.
The night was gradually giving way to light, and Ram’s flow of thoughts was suddenly interrupted by a loud noise coming from a distance. He turned around to see a bus approaching in his direction, playing some random Hindi song that wasn’t familiar. The bus stopped short of Ram, the conductor stuck his head out through the window and asked in a hoarse voice, “Anywhere you want to go?” “No”, Ram said in denial moving away from the bus. “Come on son, you could use some help. It is far from here” said the conductor in a convincing tone. Ram halted his feet and looked at the man in amazement and confusion. “It is far from here?” Ram questioned himself. The bus looked pretty old and worn out, like its conductor. But for some strange reason, the white paint on it still looked fresh. Something inside him wanted to believe what the old man had said. “If it is far from here, I should take the bus” Ram thought. He climbed up the bus that had no passengers besides him and was pushed back by an unanticipated force due to sudden acceleration. The driver was an old man too. “Isn’t the noise too loud?” Ram enquired while occupying a front seat. “The noise is always loud” pat came the reply followed by a giggle. “Listen carefully” said the conductor sounding conspicuous “Listen to the whisper of the Gods. They are calling out your name. The noise is this material world, but this whisper is the divine self. Shut yourself to this material world and you will hear them whispering.” Ram was awestruck. After all, it wasn’t something ordinary that the old man had just said. The driver seemed unfazed at all of this. The noise did not seem to bother him, as he devoted his entire concentration to the road.
Hours passed by without a conversation. They passed through barren lands, green pastures, and through dense forests. They passed through villages, cattle, towns, population and through areas that had no sign of life. The noise now fell like music on Ram’s ears. The journey seemed unending. It was nearing twilight when the bus came to a sudden halt in the midst of a dense forest. The tires screeched to a stop breaking the monotonous silence of the forest abruptly. Ram’s attention was immediately diverted to a sound resounding from somewhere in the forest. With every passing moment, the sound drew nearer and he could now make out the direction it was echoing from. The echo only added to the mystery. “Some wild animal” he thought staring at the two shining eyes visible at a distance in the dark between the trees. As they drew nearer, he could make out two horns on the head of the animal and its striking brown color. “It’s a deer” Ram said looking at the conductor expecting the same enthusiasm that he himself was feeling. But the conductor responded with a dull look showing no curiosity. The body of the deer shone bright like melted gold. He had never seen a deer that beautiful. Strong slender body, sharp horns, eyes full of compassion. He stared at the eyes and they stared back. There was a connection, a divinity. Ram felt a state of trance, his mind emptied of all thoughts. He wanted to get down the bus at that very moment. “Godspeed”, said the conductor looking at Ram indicating this was his stop. Those words sounded magical.
There he was, standing in the direction of the mystic deer gazing deep into its eyes. The deer turned around and started walking towards the forest at a sluggish pace. Ram followed. He followed it into the dense dark forest. The jungle had huge trees, making it difficult for light to creep in. The evening felt like a very dark night amid those trees. He pursued the deer to a place that felt like heaven. The huge trees had disappeared to be replaced by a single thick tree, the branches of which spread in all ten directions. Its branches ran through the ground all over the place. It was massive, shady and an apt place to meditate. Besides the tree was a small pond surrounded by rocks and gathering a waterfall in it. The water fell in the pond but the pond did not overflow. Sparrows and pigeons flocked around it frequently to satiate their thirst. The place was filled with melodious sounds of falling water and flocking birds. Ram was struck by its beauty. He looked around for the deer but it was nowhere to be found. He had been so engaged in this new found heaven, that he had lost track of the animal that brought him here. “Was this place magical? Is this what a heaven looked like?” he asked himself. But the questions appeared unimportant as it dawned on him that this was the place he had been waiting to see in all these years. In spite of a long journey, Ram did not feel fatigued nor did hunger bother him. Just an unquenchable thirst for Nirvana.
It had been days since Ram last opened his eyes out of meditation. Braving the day heat and coping with the night chill, he sat there cross legged and arms spread out in deep trance. Sweat and shiver, his body combated both. The birds chirping, the owls howling did not perturb him. Growth of facial hair was clearly visible. Days into weeks and weeks into months, but Ram did not feel hunger or thirst. He looked skinny than before, but no sign of bodily weakness. His body now did not react to the heat or to the cold. It produced no sweat nor did it shiver in the cold. A full grown beard adorned his face, and hair had grown shoulder length. His beautiful calm face exuded a glow. A glow of the divine within him, a glow of being self content. The birds occasionally rested on his body as they would on a rock. They wandered around him, circled him, and sat on his crown. They sometimes pecked at his face and at his body for his body smelled of roses. Rain fell, seasons changed but nothing in the whole wide world fazed Ram.
Ram opened his eyes to a burning sensation in his lower body as if he had been sitting on a pyre. And in the next moment, he went numb. He didn’t feel a thing down his head. He couldn’t move his hands neither his legs. Head seemed so heavy that he thought it would fall off and suddenly his eyes were filled with a bright white light. A blinding white light. A light so radiant and full of gleam that it consumed all darkness. His joy knew no bounds as tears trickled down his eyes. He knew he had attained Nirvana. In such a state of transcendence, he had been freed of all bondages. He had mastered his grief and sufferings rising above all things worldly. He was one with the supreme soul, in union with the Brahman.

He had fulfilled his Destiny! 

A Parting



“It was raining that day”, rued Rohan in a trembling voice directing his gaze to the floor. “It was raining that day when my mom left. I was small, almost 6 years and my mother was down with high fever. The doctor said it was pneumonia, we had no money to get her to a hospital. I was born out of wedlock and my father abandoned us when she was pregnant. I did not know where to find him, I did not know what to do, where to go. And my mother lay silently there on the bed covered in a blanket, waiting in peace. She held my hand in her skinny weak hands, and I kept weeping at the sight of her. With eyes half opened, she looked at me and in a moment, clutched me in her arms with all her strength left and kissed me on the forehead. I could feel her fading breath on me. She said with tears in her eyes, “Now, my son, you have to be on your own. Fight. And don’t you worry my son, God is with you. He will take care of you. And do not forget your mother, I love you so much. I love you always.” And I cried harder, making her wet with my tears. I held her so tight that I didn’t want her to go. I cried at my helplessness. There was nothing I could do. And suddenly, her grip on me loosened. I looked to her face. She was gone! My mother was gone! It was raining that day. It was raining that day and it is raining today, and someone is going to leave me again”, said Rohan, water flowing down his cheeks, now staring at Anuradha who was clad in a bright red bride’s dress. “I am sorry”, she said wiping her tears. “I dreamt of marrying you, and things have so turned out, nobody even recognizes me here. To the people outsise, I don’t exist”, said Rohan glancing through the window to the place, where guests at the wedding were seeking shelter from the downpour. “The rain today is gloomy again. Heartbreaking“, with a slight pause he continued “You remember we bunked lectures when it used to rain, those bike rides when you held me tight, we soaked in water together. And then when professor caught us sneaking out of college.” Rohan looks at Anuradha and both start to chuckle, memories flowing in. “The rain used to be happy then, when I was with you.” “You remember our first kiss? It was so wet! Wet as the caress of the rain” said Rohan with a sparkle in his eye, staring hard at Anuradha’s lips as if asking for a last kiss. “I can’t, I am getting married today” Anuradha said in a hesitant tone, but with a long second thought she moves forward towards him tilting her head a little and closes her eyes expecting a reciprocal movement. Rohan moves forward to meet her lips with his and they lock, “Those lips aren’t mine anymore! You aren’t mine anymore” he withdraws abruptly opening his eyes with a sudden realization. “I should be going now, have a good life. In next life, may be. Happy married life.” he says while standing up to leave, “It is raining today!” 

A Desire That Simple


Where the soul is liberated from the shackles of infinite slumber, where the mind is a free bird, where the body is a mere reflection of this soul, in such a place I wish to go and dwell.  Where humanity is the only accepted religion, where people embrace each other with open arms, where the heart is the only temple and love the only mosque, in such a place I wish to go and dwell. Where selfless love occupies people’s hearts, where there are no ulterior motives and there are no scheming minds, in such a place I wish to go and dwell. Where the world hasn’t been partitioned into nations and nations into states, where humans haven’t been separated into religions and religions into castes, in such a place I wish to go and dwell. Where the girl child is equal to a son, where untouchability is a sin, where supercilious prides are none, in such a place I wish to go and dwell. Where the lines between destitute and rich are blur, where the law of the land favors the guiltless, and where the law does not take its own course, in such a place I wish to go and dwell. Where corruption is an unfamiliar word, where nepotism and bribery are a myth, where there are no pseudo countenances and visage is a portrayal of truth, in such a place I wish to go and dwell.

Where the quest in search of The Almighty begins and ends within, I have a desire that simple. Where conscience is a testimony to His existence and the heart is where He resides, I have a desire that simple. Where the soul is one with God, I have a desire that simple.

Change


What is a change, I ask? A change is something that changes you, a change is something so powerful and potent that it changes the way you perceive life. It shakes you out of your slumber. A change is permanent and sometimes damaging too. Like the way you changed me. I was never the same again. A hollowness that cannot be filled, only buried. Buried deep down under the many layers of my heart. A compelling thought of you brings back memories. Sweet memories. Of times we were together. Of times we sat together, gazing deep in each other’s eyes. When we clasped our hands so tight, that it felt inseparable. I still remember the fragrance of your hair, your redolent slender body that used to drive me nuts. The pale skin, that responded at my slightest touch. Those beautiful eyes were a testament of life. Your hands were a work of art. With you by my side, everything in the entire world seemed possible.

Days aren’t exciting anymore when I woke up knowing I had you. My laughter resonates because you don’t laugh with me. A bike ride is merely a commute because you don’t ride pillion. Those who have loved truly once, are far more likely to love again. A part of me knows this, but a part of me dispels with the logic. For my love was not based on logic. I loved you because I loved you!

But such a change has to be honoured, revered. For such a change makes me what I am today. Your absence leaves in me a lingering agony. An agony that keeps me alive, that keeps the fire in me ignited. You remind me that nothing in this life is permanent, that things eventually change!