The Garden in Life

I run, dance and merry go round
in this garden in my life.
There are so many beautiful things here
And to me they are all dear.

Trees are tall and splendid
I run with the wind circling around the trunks
It has finally took down the neat looking leaf
But to catch it, not that simple!

The leaf goes away with the wind, to catch I run
because I enjoy, and it seems to be fun.
The wind soon gets tired of the game
The leaf is mine! but its dry... how lame!

The garden doesn’t seem that beautiful now
I get bored, I get sad
But a movement catches my eye
Oh look its a butterfly...

She is so... I have no words
I want to touch her vibrant colors
I try to reach her, but she goes away far
I hide behind the roses, don’t mind the scar!

I give up and look around
It is lonely, It is sad
I might as well finish the tree house
I came here to build

The house looks the same
I had last left it. It is not perfect
It is not holding up even this time
I plan to write a poem out of this, this part doesn’t even rhyme!

I break it and decide to rebuild
But I get stuck again at the same step
I decide tree-house is bad idea and destroy
Let me catch the leaf.. may be this one isn’t dry.

Dil Chahta Hai

“I miss you!”. Three words and you never say it often. You were not sure how badly this

realization will strike after that last good-bye hug. You wished to cry. There were too many memories that flashed as they asked you to take care and keep in touch. But for some vague assumption that it will be inappropriate, you kept nodding.

It was difficult to take farewell from so many people every day and getting the same feeling. Each one of them must have said bye and hugged you 100 times. You then remembered that you have to leave and they understood. But then somebody brought up an old distant memory or incident and then you discussed the same way you had been doing. They called you all the dirty,sweet and cool names you were known for, even while shaking hands the umpteenth time and supposedly last.

Now, you have nothing but the countless folders in your computer accumulated over these years containing images from VGA quality to high definition. Some of them blurred and dark, whose significance is known to only few. There are no captions but you can effortlessly recall what the photo is about. The moments can replay vividly in the mind. Dear friend, I wish time stood still with this photo.

We are so different. We are not kindred spirits. Yet, a part of my subconscious made me talk to you. There were circumstances, when I even faked my attitude, my behaviour; when I was consciously - not me, just to hang around. But now my friend I realize, may be I didn’t fake it, may be you made me discover a new me.

Destinations, journey, cross-roads. I look back to see the past in the eye. The situation is similar but the feeling is not. I thought I could take it, but it depresses more every time. I thought it was a train journey and I even changed my mind about alighting down the next station. But now, we seem like the balls in the ball-in-the-maze puzzle; God steering every individual’s destiny towards a goal.

Bags were zipped up. The car was waiting in the rain. It was time to pull up the window. The water droplets did an excellent job of hiding my tears; perhaps yours as well. Now, “dil chahta hai” this car left for a long drive, to a scary place, to discuss ghosts, to atop the hill, to an overpriced restaurant or may be to nowhere in particular!

Zipping my memories

Until yesterday you and I stood on same earth. But what is happening today? My earth seemingly revolves in opposite direction. The clock you gifted me shows absurd time. I am looking in the direction you mentioned. I am focusing hard dear, but I don’t see red colour splashed on the horizon. I turned all around, not a breeze ruffled my hairdo.

My sight seems myopic. Your face appears blurring. How can I catch your wink and know our next prank? I am unable to figure out from eyes’ sparkle whether you are excited or crying a river. I am waiting for that one blink of assurance sweetheart that I am not alone and never will be.

I am not good at lip reading dear. There is a commotion here. I don’t hear my nasty nick name. Did you burst out laughter or wince in pain? But you guaranteed that you read and you got a phone too. I have been shouting that I will miss you and love you forever. Could you also notice the tremble?

Oh I see your hand waving goodbye! We need a last loud high-five. The senile hand doesn’t know her support will be away only for a while. I want to hold your face in my palms. I got a touch screen device to make up. I run my finger across your face and the crappy UI interferes.

I can’t stop my reverse trail. I wish the horizon spread a little farther. Or I could accommodate it in my bag! I am so helpless without you dear? How can I drink away all your tears? How can I hug into your caring heart? How can I kiss for our endless love?

Cry

He straightened up and bulged out his heavy chest against the gale. The air circled around his waist, his arms and the ribcage could feel the temperature difference. The shoulders were relentlessly trying to pull back the bare chest, the arms trying to embrace the waist and avert the shiver and crack of ribs. The face was helpless; enduring all the scarring. They all endured and persevered for the sake of eyes. Cause eyes were timid; cause it was time when eyes would take too long to come out of their protective shell and confront the strong wind. The rest were patient though and knew, that eyes had to come out eventually; it all seemed a ritual lately.

Deep inside the brain, there was a pandemonium. Control and Instinct had long gone haywire. None of the two knew who mastered whom. May be their roles were reversed or perhaps both intertwined like the yin-yang. They both battled and the consequence was a naked body standing in the cold wind’s way. Mind was busy reminiscing the past, the misfortune, the mistakes and the aftermath. It seemed dormant now, completely battered and clobbered. The scenes of life so far, started- first slowly and then in an endless replay mode. Eyes were both witness and the convict for recording them.

There was no recollection of the good times in life. He was prepared, nurtured and trained for the toughest, fiercest challenges. But choices and decisions turned some uneven pages in life. The bed of roses suddenly transformed into a labyrinth of thorns. The might was adequate, the success was officially awarded, but the sacrifice made was too much. The mirth of success was short-lived. Perhaps he ran too fast for others to keep up. He climbed the podium and looked back. The cheers were gone. So was the person for whom this was all about. What is success? Is it what you have accomplished? Or is it what you are left with?

They say dreams have substance when they are not companions of your sound sleep but catalysts to insomnia. He had too many of them. The early morning alarm bells were just his wake-up calls that ‘it hadn’t happened’. The rest of the day had been spent pondering ‘what if it will?’. But the dreams never materialized. An atheist he, asks secretly to the supposed Almighty; one question, “Why others’, why not mine?”. “Were others the first to dream that? Or they deserved more than me? ” “Are all my dreams disruptive to Your Natural Order and Scheme of Things?”. What are dreams? Are they spiritual guidance, a God’s message? Or are they extreme scientific hallucinations; a chemical imbalance?

A hail stone brushed the cheek, the arms loosened and the sudden chill interrupted the play. The brain was exhausted, almost given up. It somehow started its routine monitoring of the body. Eyes had no intention to open up. The shoulders were adamant in their position. The arms tightened again. The face just took another scar. Lungs reluctantly inhaled and mixed oxygen in blood. But there was an unusual activity in the heart. Who was directing it? Control or Instinct?

The heart was in its best form. The pumping of blood throughout the body was being carried out with full efficiency. Brain dropped by, to perform a last status check. Inside a thousand memories resided. All of them of love, care and affection. All of them from friends, family and the one person who always waited, cared and loved. Brain was stunned. Heart patted, brain swung back violently, Heart smiled and said, “Whenever you are ready! Take your time.” Brain knelt! The pandemonium that had broken out, broke off. Eyes had only one way to love back, it came out of their protective shell. The sight of the clouds hugging and kissing the snow capped mountain peak was overwhelming. Then, flood.

The Last Glimpse

It is harder than anticipated. It is more precise than the wildest guess. It has become too painful for preparedness you have developed to face this ugly truth. All the efforts to comfort this blow have turned out futile.

“It is never too late!” Not entirely true is it? Now God punishes us for the things we deferred. Here come the moments that make you realize they are the last ones. It is like trying to carry home the sands at sea shores. Silently those cute little particles slip out of your clench. And by the time you reach home, you learn that you are alone; the sands abandon you.

Man is such a helpless animal. He boasts about being the smartest species on earth. But in some corner of his brain’s counterpart –mind; he knows he cannot live alone. He finally understands that the blood was just keeping the brain alive; the mind was thriving on emotions and feelings. All these years you spent your life painting a masterpiece. The picture was almost getting complete, when God stole your colors away.

These are some moments when you turn to God. Praying to him to bring back the time to complete that unfinished dance step on the DJ floor with your friend. Requesting to bring back the situation when a sitcom made you laugh so hard you thought you were going to pass out from the stomachache. Kneeling down and begging one last rain when you don’t care about the mobile phone and the cool drops make the feeling of freedom re-surface. Pleading to slow down time because you haven’t yet framed the sentences to tell that girl how much you love her.

Relationships are like jigsaw puzzles. You are one of the many pieces. All the while you strived needlessly to make yourself perfect. Life teaches that all pieces are imperfect for a reason. Their irregularity is what makes easier for them to accommodate each other. It is another of the nature’s miracles when it shows that these unshaped pieces take shape into a beautiful picture.

Things are ending like a sunset. It looks so beautiful that you promise to stare it forever. But the dusk is waiting for that slight eye-blink to subtly take over. Eyes are welling up. I don't know whether it is because of staring-strain or emotions. But I don't want to miss this Last Glimpse.

It Is Time

There are times when you really want to give up. You are tired of proving yourself to the world, done with all the failures and incapability. You have no idea why you are doing this. This burden of proving yourself gets heavier everyday. Your soul and mind aches under the enormous weight of challenges, lessons and experiences. You discover that the only struggle easier than today's was yesterday's.

It is not that you have not seen yourself succeed in life. But success never stays with you longer. It has to go away and you have to keep chasing it till you lose your breath and collapse to the earth. Every fall scars your face. The salt in those tears make the wounds even more painful. Getting up becomes impossible. The heart pounds hard against the rough rocks beneath you. The lungs cry out for air. When you look at the injured self, you make up your mind that may be It is time. You wish the heart stops or the lungs give in. You kill the mind already. But the body gasps, and in the mean time success goes farther away.

The earth you fall on soils your image, quakes to bring down the last ounce of self-confidence you had striven so hard to establish, and buries the thin line between self-respect and ego. The self-respect makes you believe you deserve a punishment, at least a solitary confinement in this world. The ego makes you refrain from the apology you owe. You believe that parents and friends should abandon you for this sin. But they don't.

They offer their hand to help you get up. You hate them for trusting a man like you. May be because you love them so much you fear failing them. But they have no reasons. They possess only faith, totally unconditional faith. They promise to walk with you till the end. They promise to hunt down this success you had always chased. They hold your trembling hand till the last judgment day, the day when fate announces in a grand ceremony, whether you won or lost.

You recall your worst nightmares when the special guests of the ceremony make their boring speeches. The environment makes you unable to decide between excitement and desperation. You evaluate your chances. May be it is possible. You think of the various ways to react if you win. The heart skips multiple beats. May be you are not going to make it. May be because you didn't listen to the speeches, may be because you weren't clapping, may be because you weren't humble enough. And then Fate announces,”First prize goes to IM-121 Omni-Desk”.

I thought it was a dream. Pinches pull you out of dreams. Hugs from Khudaah, Master and Dude pushed me into reality.

The Right Moment

All your life you wait for the right moment to arrive. The right moment and the right person with whom you share your deepest secrets and feelings. It is not that you guys aren't fast friends but it never occurred to you that this person can become so important in life. All the while you could only appreciate how funny and cool-to-hang-out this friend was, but it surprises you how understanding he really is.

You believed that this world doesn't really care about your silly woes and problems. You made new friends in college but never shared your deepest feelings; only afraid that this friend won't be interested. There had been strong urges to tell this friend how you feel. But you deferred; because it wasn't the right time and you hoped that some day you would share these little things with him. You had justified then that it was too early.

The right moment arrives and you want to tell all. The moment is so bizarre that you cannot help but smile. The Moment is different for different people. To some it advents while relaxing on the golden sand beaches with sun setting on the horizon. To some, the long drive down the open road overwhelms the mind with emotions and feelings. To some, it is a sleepy hour past midnight when you are perched on the Upper Berth of a train heading back home and you are really thinking of pulling the chain. To some, it is a lonely dinner and a long ride on a cold wintry night. To some, it is one of those last laughs and tears shared on the stairs of college. Sometimes it is just another sleepless night and an SMS explains the whole reason behind insomnia.

At this moment, you just can't hold it anymore. You want to tell how you feel about that girl, how you feel about God, how you feel about parents, how exactly you had proposed or how much efforts went in vain while pursuing and also the deepest fears of loneliness. You wish the moment never passes. But there is so much to tell. You realize you waited too long. You worry whether this moment will arrive again or whether there will be anybody ever again to listen whatever you want to say.

Time has to run out. Always rushing. It mocks at our inability to catch up. You wish you could put a leg and trip Time down. It passes by unnoticed. Time is invisible. It is unfair. Sometimes you are tired of this game. Time defeats you. Time is invincible. Every time you are ready to intercept Time, it is either too late or too early. Why is Time so impatient?! May be because of... The Reason.

There is so much left to say, so much left to share, so much left to understand and so much left to free you from this burden. But anyway those moments were amazing. There is a lot left inside. May be some other day. You know, the sunset moment has to pass to make way for sunrise.

Getting elder by the minute

Try to recall the oldest memories in your mind. How old were you then? Four or may be Five. The memories do not seem that old, do they? You had your own ideas about the world, conscience, and about yourself. You had those childish dreams which seem so unrealistic now.

Making friends was so easy then. You just had to lend the first two fingers of your hand, kiss it off and you get yourself a friend. If things didn't work out the little finger came to the rescue, “katti – foo”! Dosti – Katti were two transitions that used to happen as frequently as sunrise – sunset. You had no idea what betrayal is. May be some cheating from their side during “hide and seek” always ended up you as a seeker. Or umpired out of a forbidden fast ball in the “galli cricket” Things never were complicated back then.

You did some terrible things like giving a funeral service to your buddy fish in the aquarium which died on a hot sumer afternoon. It was crazy but felt right. School taught to help the helpless and you brought home a cute looking puppy, which was not welcomed by mom. You emulated all the fight scenes in movies and imitated your favorite hero with shirts unbuttoned!

Aspiring was easier than dreaming; oblivious to how exactly you going to achieve it; not caring whether you have the capability in the first place. Gradually education made you smarter in laws like gravity and you realized that flying like Super-man isn't really possible Those cool maneuvers of Turbo-Kat jet by the Swat-Kats defied all laws of centrifugal force!! All the powers Shaktiman had weren't real!

You had no idea about caste and creed. It was never an issue. Names were enough when you made friends. The fact that this person has the bat or ball to play cricket sufficed and not his ancestral background. History taught about great divide among the people. And suddenly you became very very aware of the surnames.

World is so complicated that figuring it out is like playing hide and seek again. The difference is that you are the seeker every day. When young you counted till 10-Mississippi before all the friends hid themselves. Every morning you get up the Mississippi count is over. You wish you didn't have to open your eyes.

Every day when you look back in the past you are elder. You understand you are more intelligent and smarter. As a child you always wanted to become a grown-up. And then when you look in the mirror; the present; you ask yourself whether the choices and decisions you made were right; whether this is the image of the grown-up you always wanted to become.

Paa

He must have told you the story a hundred times. Yet, you never get enough of it. The beginning of the story is always the same; “When I was your age…” And then he narrates it all. It’s not that you have heard it for the first time but the narration is always riveting. You wish you were a director; the story is worth a movie. You laugh at how crazy you were about the super-heroes cartoon serials. He is nothing less than a hero. He doesn’t have super-natural powers; but natural powers, which make him greater.

When you look at him carefully you see the chiseled face; which was sculpted by experiences; both good and bad. His mother knows he looks different. All his life he couldn’t notice those canyons made by tear-rivers he let flow when alone, the deep trenches made by ruthless quakes in market, scars made by the hot winds of misfortune and wrinkles made by time. He has treaded the path for almost half a century now. He keeps walking.

As a kid you remembered him only when you wanted a new toy, and when hurt cried only in her arms. Unlike her, he never pulled you close and cried with you. He did not even cry when you left home but stayed composed to comfort her. There was a reason to it. He is the barked-tree. Hardened by the ugly side of life. He wants you to turn into the same. The FIGURE of him is to teach. Now you recall the days when he taught how to ride the bicycle. You fell, because he wanted you to. Someone has rightly said, “Why do we fall…? So that we can learn to pick ourselves up.” I had thanked him only for buying me the bicycle; I owe the thank-you for teaching it.

He lost many of his dear ones, lost to time. He hates to marry “off” his daughter, lost to inexplicable and anomalous laws of society. He never had a shoulder to cry on. On the contrary others sought his shoulder. He compromised… he just pursed his lips hard, but when his strength gave up… sat on the floor and cried by hiding his face in his palms or may be between his knees; no one knows exactly. He is the ocean which contains rivers of sorrow.

You go into a trance while listening to the story. You picture yourself in his place and doubt whether you are capable of handling those hardships. This tree would never show what’s beneath the barks. He stands firm and strong by your side. He is the example of life that you are about to lead. He is Paa.

because of ... The Reason

Ever wondered why? Yes! “Why?” The first question we always asked to our parents during adolescence. You wanted to know why is the sky blue in color. You wanted to know why mother doesn’t approve of you playing with fire. And why was it so important to wash your hands before having meals. Why do others want us to succeed in life? And please.... for God’s sake; tell me why do you care so much about me.

Why has God created so many emotions for us? For a moment you think of all the beautiful things in your life and wonder; how can you live without them. When the newborn child grabs the finger of its father assuring that one day his son would offer his finger during senile times. The hug from her home-returned son that smoothes out the uneven heartbeats mother had had since the day he left home. Why isn’t there anything that can soothe mummy that I am fine?

At other moments you think of the dear ones you lost and wonder; what could it be like if they were still with you. Past gropes on the walls of your heart scratching deep wounds; punishing you for your reluctance to say only the three words, “I Love You!” Why does God mock at us, making it impossible to bring back the time?

There are moments when you wish you could spend the life with your only love. The sight of whom comforts you. You have no idea how long it had been when you last saw her. It may have been only an hour. You are apprehensive before proposing your love to her, afraid of all the odds against you. And when she smiles and nods, the apprehension evanesces. It becomes like the flower and the dewdrop. Both cannot do without each other. Why is life so incomplete without her?

You cannot imagine life without your family of friends. The friend can see inside your mind. Your friend can make out that you are upset when you are unusually quiet. At other moments he can bask in your euphoria; be it topping the charts in college or a stupid six or a wicket in a cricket match. You hug all that out. Often you feel the urge to hug the dear friend and let the hearts do the sharing. It may be a deep sorrow or a silly worry. Dear friend! Why do I long for your hug?

But as you proceed in this journey called life, this quest to find reason withers away. You finally realize there aren’t sufficient answers to the questions. You start to understand there is no point answering those questions. They are better off unanswered. Why are the reasons so inexplicable? Oh dear! Another “Why?” Every time I ask myself the question I end my answer with “because of ... The Reason”.

Friends

Life’s a journey and you are baffled at some juncture when you have to decide which way to tread. Since the day you were born you had been made to travel this way of life with no destination even past the horizon. You haven’t even realized that your endurance has been truly indefatigable.

At all these crossroads you want to look back, and see the past in the eye. The same old feeling comes rushing back in the heart. You irritate yourself for trying to remember when was the last time this familiar pain had surfaced. It happens too often. It happens too often to shrug it off as a déjà vu. It’s like building a sand castle on the beach. You work so hard to make it beautiful. But in the ruck of abeyant experiences in some corner of your mind, you know that at any moment the sea wave will ruin the fantasy you had been tirelessly devising.

It reminds you of the train journey. You bid goodbye to the fellow passengers who made the journey so memorable; you wished your destination be same. But it is disturbing when life teaches you; the journey has not even come to an end and one of you has to alight, to start another expedition. You stand at the doors of the slowing down train and you can actually see the passage of the “T for time”, re-living the life you spent with your friends.

You felt so secure among your group of friends! Life is a thin lariat, and you have your share of falls. But every time you fell, a friend was there to lend you the helping hand. Your friend had always been sunrise of the day. The bunking of lectures together, the numerous bites you grabbed outside college and rated all the eligible girls you thought were girlfriend type. You enjoyed the life so much, you never let go a single opportunity of being with your friends. You partied hard at your friend’s birthday but before that you smacked the posterior of all friends light enough to be carried by 4 persons. You never visited the nearby picnic spot during the day, but waited for a black out so that you can take the bikes and explore places in the night. Even if the place is outside the city premises.

You planned the innumerable “mazze” time you shared with the friends, enjoying it every time. It could be a trip to a far away place or a silly but prestigious cricket match. You tried all the sledging you heard on TV in a losing match. And collectively lamented the defeat. You enjoyed being the part of the games like Table Tennis and carrom you weren’t even good at. You watched movies together and ridiculed the horror ones and cried hiding your face during the emotional.

You laughed at the jokes on anybody in the group. You were teased for all the funny posts on the community forum and even the way you dressed. You had hated them then. But now you are surprised to see yourself smile at your own fiasco. You cried when you failed and shared your sorrows and relationship problems in life. Every time, there was a shoulder to cry on.

Friendship is in fact a recondite relationship. It is a travesty to be a “Dostana”. It is indeed platonic and close to the heart. I spent so many great moments with my friends. Right now I am seeing that “T for time” outside the slowing down train. I think I want to change my decision about alighting down the next station.

The Thing Called Love

You always shrugged it off as an infatuation. But a part of you knew it can’t be. For the first time in your life you so often realize that there is a Heart just under that over-smart brain of yours. It pounds so hard you start wondering “what’s up?” with this small organ inside your body, which was obediently pumping blood since the last 20 years and you snubbed it since so long.

You try to dismiss this frivolous demeanor of the heart. It occurs often to remind you there is something wrong with yourself. You smile for no reason when you are certain about the subtlety that’s hanging in the air. It takes some time to understand the reason why the heart was acting “conspicuous”.

All of a sudden you find yourself helpless without that person, even when you had boasted about how brave and cool you have been. You feel the heart again the same way it felt yesterday but each time it seems heavier than before and the rest of the body lighter. Feelings have indeed their own weight. As a science student you are amused of your discovery. This is how it feels like when that person actually lives in your heart. It was this; the stupid Hindi songs were talking about! Couldn’t they be clearer?

You catch glimpses of her when you get an opportunity. The mind goes crazy. It doesn’t understand how to react to this problem of yours. It’s happy and depressed at the same time. The dreams of spending the life with her make you happy. And the same mind evaluates the chances of losing her. Her presence completes a part, you had been deprived of. The smile comforts your soul, which promises you everything is beautiful and you will never cry out another tear. Her words like the zephyr which caresses the leaves of a tree assuring that it will always be there for them; that there is no fear.

All that literature about love you denigrated every time you had a chance was true. With 385 words and still counting it is not possible to explain this thing called love. Every time I ask this question about “what is love?” there are no definitions ……. Only feelings! Feelings answer this billion dollar question.

I can really Feel the Feelings Now

Since the past so many days, I was thinking about why the mind is so obsessed about its own feelings. I personally believe that mind has nothing to do with the brain. If it’s the blood that flows inside out of a brain, they are feelings that flow inside out of the mind.

Since childhood I have always tried my best to control my feelings like what I think about my friends , what I think about God and what I think about myself. Every moment I had strived so hard, I hadn’t allowed the feelings to enslave me. You adopt certain principles in life, which aren’t even taught to you. No one gives any hint or an idea. They just occur to you, and you make those an integral part of your identity.

I always tried to hide my feelings. Not that I was afraid, but I believed feelings were for the weak.  And it has taken some time, to realize that I was wrong. Circumstances teach you, mould you to a different person. You wonder why you had been that way. What good did it do? You have a dilemma whether you should give up and appreciate that you had been stupid, or just hang on to whatever crap you believed – only because it was yours. Testing your endurance as to how long you can sustain, how good you are at advocating your principle and justifying at the same time.

But when you learn life’s lessons you get used to it. You get fairly acquainted with what life is really about. And suddenly you are different as a person, as a friend, as a child. Every time I learn that I had not been right, it reminds me of a turtle. No one had told it to stay inside the hard shell. It was the turtle’s decision. It seems that it had tried to harden his feelings, blot out all that made it look weak and feeble. But the world always knew that within that shell there is a softer and sensitive part which couldn’t harden for some reason even after an aeon.

Feelings really don’t have a pathway as the blood has veins and arteries. It’s like when you are standing and it’s raining. The feelings are the rain drops. You believe there was never a necessity of an umbrella. You hadn’t cared to look up and acknowledge. The cloud above was always one. 

Wish Life is just a Dream

         You always know you don’t deserve it. That it is someone else’s misfortune God has wrongly bestowed upon you. It challenges your very existence. You believed all good things happen to good people. You hope your life is a delusion or just a dream. Perhaps it is and you may wake out of it at any moment.

You wake up every morning hoping that it was just a dream and you finally escaped that nightmare. But you are wrong all the time. The dream is a dark, gaping void you face. You try to run from it, edit it out. The more you run, the more terrible, deeper it grows. You don’t remember how many times you have been trying to escape, you are still in that dream. You pray to God. But unfortunately it was God who had turned renegade and obliterated the very chances of getting out unscathed from that dream. You get illusions of somebody’s hand stretched out, but it evanesces as soon as you try to catch it.

You look into the mirror. Perhaps it isn’t your reflection after all. You don’t remember how your face looked like. Or it is not your life. Or you are just an onlooker in someone else’s life. Fate is an intransigent devil. It sacrileges the image you greatly valued, strived for, fought for to make it the colossus of your identity. It blemishes your soul. It’s like falling in a deep hole again. No matter how long you try to climb out, you can still fall back in an instant. That’s the genius of the hole. Looking at the sky above you ask God ‘why me?’ It occurs to you that if you had done something differently you would have been a different person asking a different question, living a different life.

You convince yourself that this bad thing cannot happen. Truth is a lie you tell yourself before going to bed. You vehemently ask questions to life, which have nothing but obscure answers. Life must be all false, an illusion, just a nightmare. The only problem is that you aren’t asleep. And you cannot wake up.

THE DARK KNIGHT

You never understand the value or importance of the person until you lose him. He is lost in an instant. You curse yourself for failing to save your loved one. In his eyes you see the fright, the image of him pulled strongly into the gaping hole of death, his hope that you would save him at any cost. You couldn’t. You fear that soul would never forgive you.

You never forget that night. In your nightmare you see the person dying every time. You never remember how long it has been, it’s still as if it happened again tonight. The same fright, the plunge into the black hole and the same hope. You understand that the nightmare would occur again tomorrow. But you welcome it hoping you have a chance to save him in your dreams. But each time you fail. You believe you deserve another opportunity. You are determined that in some dream you would avert that mishap.

You believe food is not keeping you alive, it’s only the rage that’s driving you. Memories of your loved ones lurk in the blood as poison. Past haunts you all the time. While treading the path to future you look askance around fearing somebody is following you. You are sure that someday someone would keep an arm on your shoulder from behind, and would say, “Answer me Bruce! Why didn’t you save me?”

Bruce Wayne wakes up every morning with a nightmare. He stares at the stranger in the mirror. He sees the killer. Cold tear trickles down his cheeks, which reminds him of the same coldness that night, the mugger pulling the trigger two times and cold-bloodedly murdering his parents. 

He vividly remembers that face. He was just a mugger, who killed his parents for no apparent reason. His parents were philanthropists and among the most respected personas in the city. The father was a physician and the mother was an angel. He was just an eight year old kid then. He wonders why he wasn’t killed that night. That’s the reason Bruce is guilty. He believes his parents died because he is alive. He has no one in this world, except his family’s butler Alfred. He was so helpless he could not even avenge his parents’ death. The judicial system was not foolproof enough to fight the injustice inflicted on the Wayne family. He could not fight injustice as a man.

He realized that to fight the criminals he should become an ideal, a legend. A criminal is nothing beyond a human. It thrives on the tolerance of the helpless. Bruce wanted to become an ingrained fear of the criminal. In order to manipulate fear of others he should become the fear. In real life there aren’t any super heroes with super-human powers to save the world. Bruce was to become one, but with no super-human powers. He travelled the world and learnt the criminology. He tried to understand the psychology of the criminal. He learnt all forms of defense tactics and martial arts from masters around the world. Eventually he became an exceptional escape artist, master of martial arts, acrobatics, science, technology, boxing, disguises, criminology and detective skills. He embarked on his mission one night.

That night was stormy. Lightning thunders and rain reminded him the night his parents were killed. And then the window pane was shattered by a horrifying image of a black bat. Bruce found what he was looking for. He found the symbol he would disguise in to fight injustice and crime.

He resolved at that moment he would become the savior. That no one would lose a loved one again and suffer as he did. He attends the grave of his parents every night at the cemetery. He is still unsure whether his father and mother would forgive him. 

The Challenges of being an Intelligent Guy

Hello dear readers! I am attempting my first blog here on blogspot. Though I am strongly feeling uncertain as to who really cares reading what I write, I am daring to key down my ideas( one no longer pens down these days ).

 This is not about me in particular. This is about a person who is a cynosure.  He is a guy who has the best brains. Studies are the only one thing he is good at. But somehow he is never happy. His thirst for knowledge is never quenchable. The mathematical equation or some concept in physics is the one niggling his mind. Resolving  before going to bed that he would find answers someday. He is so rapacious about things ordinary people don’t even care about.

He scores well in exams, topping through all the semesters. He believes he has humility to welcome glory. “Kya dude how much did you score?” The answer is “90 percent!” He enquires, “How’s yours?” For some reason people don’t like this counter-question. It was simply an enquiry. He was just trying to be humble, trying not to be hubris about his achievement. Unfortunately his innocuous concern turns others inimical towards him. People curse him for not being gentle enough. The guy doesn’t have the right to ask such questions because they feel humiliated at the very fact they scored less. It’s indeed a double edge sword. If you don’t ask, you are inconsiderate. If you ask you are hated. He doesn’t understand what went wrong. He convinces himself that someday, they would understand that he cared.

The guy doesn’t have fast friends. He doesn’t want any. Perhaps there is nothing that important in life to share. He believes life is not a problem with no solution, that mathematical problems are more difficult. Even if he shares, he doesn’t confide everything with a single friend. His friends are many. Each of them knows a facet of his life others are unaware of. There is a principle in economics. “Don’t put all the eggs in the same basket!” For reasons best known to him, he doesn’t put all his life in a single friend. That’s his way of maximizing assets viz. FRIENDS.

The guy had an ambition since childhood. He had many choices- to become a doctor, engineer, industrialist, businessman, astronaut or a scientist. But life has its own course. No matter how valiantly you fight, you succumb to your own concomitant incapability. He doesn’t give up. He tries his best to prove the world he is not a stupid common personality, not a face lost in the crowd. He wants to prove he is the most brilliant guy, the one he is among his mates in school or college. However, the guy reluctantly accepts his defeat, cursing his fate he once firmly believed he commanded. The defeat is unaccustomed to! Sometimes truth isn’t good enough. He was not smart, perhaps only his mates were dumb.

Now, he thinks he is helpless against his ineptitude and oblivious to his capability. He wants to break free the shackles of consistency and sincerity. He can no longer stand this slavery. But there is a dead end. There is nothing else he is good at. Now he turns back to stare at his past. Past is a puzzle like a broken mirror, as you piece it together you cut yourself. Your images keep shifting and you change with it. It’s a black hole you cannot escape out of, its edges yawning at your feet reminding you of the questions you resolved to find answers that night.