Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Yes or Yes?

He sat looking at a small sheet of paper in front of him. He remembered the countless number of times, this trick had helped him come out of a dilemma. Because he had figured at a very young age that, deep down, every question had only two answers; either yes or no. From the window close to him his eyes could note the first signs of activity of the day. Instead of registering what his eyes were seeing, his mind was pondering on the thing which had made him get up and sit with a paper, at 5 in the morning. He remembered

the incidents behind every sentence written on one column of the paper; the little snubs; the disappointments; the harsh words and the pointless arguments. He could feel everything as if they were happening right there in front of him. Only after writing had he realized that so many ‘yet-to-be-considered’ thoughts were stuck deep inside his head. .

But it was not like only one column of the paper was filled. There was the other side, filled with little things he felt when talking with her; little things that he wouldn’t tell others; little things he couldn’t name; the same little things that turned the frown on his face into a smile. He took his pen and wrote her name on the side which he’d always known to be the answer. And as if mirroring his thoughts, the fog outside his window cleared to give way to the beautiful blue sky.

P.S. We can always search for reasons for liking/disliking a person. But more often than not, it is an impulsive thing.

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

The End.

He stood looking at his reflection in the mirror. He looked much older than 43. Wisdom, his followers assumed, was the reason. Cruelty and the pain he’d caused, his enemies claimed, was the reason. He liked to think, that the vast expense of his life that he’d had, was the reason. Without moving from his position, he gave a glance at a painting that he’d hung on his wall, some 3 years back. He’d always wanted to know what others thought of him. This particular painting had been the outcome of not just the artist’s skill, but also his pain and passion towards the people he’d lost. That was the face that a majority of the world associated to his name, but the one looking from a distance of a mere 15 yards was in no measure, as cruel. And he couldn’t help but chuckle at the glass that his ‘supposed’ face was wearing in the painting, because he’d never been a great fan of Mafia shades. He looked back at his life, not because he was proud of it or ashamed of it, but just because he thought it was necessary to do that once in a while. .

Born into a mediocre and poverty ridden family of 8, he experienced school life only until his 5th grade. He worked at a tea stall for around 5 years before deciding to do something meaningful with his life. He joined the army, at the lowest rank and came through the rigorous routines without much difficulty because of the minimal sophistication in his childhood. As his rank improved, he began to see the cruelties that his country faced on an almost daily basis just because it wasn’t on the developed side of nations. Frustration began to creep into his life, as he was ordered around by foreign leaders like a puppet, particularly because he’d always thought of himself as a leader. He had the skills and he made a decision. .

What followed were headlines and flash news featuring his name. People started taking note of him. Countries started fearing him. On the other side, people started believing in him. His country felt proud of him. Children wanted to turn into him while middle-aged men felt proud calling him their son. There was one woman who felt proud of him and cared for him at the same time. They had met at one of his closest associates’ daughter’s Nikkah. He married her one week later and would never leave her for another woman. His power started to grow, but so did the pain inside him. He couldn’t look at her face after every one of his ‘acts’ even though she insisted that it was alright because that was the choice he had taken. They came after him. They missed him by a whisker, many a time. In the process, they killed her. He hated himself for being the reason for the end of such a beautiful being. He learned to live with it.

He’d grown into such a person, that could actually smile at his life as if he had enjoyed every moment of it. He looked one last time at his face and thought to himself, ‘Catch me, they will, only when there is nothing to be caught!’.

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Life and Change.

He entered an empty class room . He slowly walked to and sat on the place on which he’d spent almost every day of the last four years. He looked at the blackboard which had a few numbers chalked on it. Every memory came before his eyes. Every single one . .

He entered the room , after nervous queries to random people. His shirt was drenched with an insane amount of ‘flop sweat’. Few of the students, who were already there, took note of his arrival with neutral and nervous glances. He was wondering where to sit while making his first steps into his classroom and slowly made up his mind and walked towards the final bench. He had always liked positioning himself in vantage points . .

Now the scene slightly changed. The faces where no longer neutral. They had some expression or some movement in their lips when their eyes registered his arrival. It was almost eight months into college and he had grown a few friends and quite a few people who didn’t like being associated with him. It was one of the last days of the fresher year and people were starting to get a grip of the college life. He looked at the entire class on his entry with his eyes sharing a moment of personal contact with another pair which was taking note of his arrival. .

Next scene: Two and a half years into college, quite a few of his classmates accepted him for what he was and were pretty close to him. It is amazing how people can grow on you and how only a few ‘first impressions’ turn out to be accurate. He was settled in his college life with his circle of friends and they were having a fun time in the class of one of his favourite subjects taught by one of their favorite teachers. .

Next scene: Beginning of final year. College was his home away from home and friends were the family which mattered the most( at least at that point of time). Every teacher had to come to terms with their notorious behaviour but they never had a problem with handling their class because of a few amazingly talented souls. The classes and days flew away . .

Next scene, last few days of college life. He could feel it from the way people glanced at each other. They all knew it would never remain the same. They all knew everything was going to change. The mood was bittersweet because they had never felt that comfortable in each other presence and they all knew it could last only for a few days. .

Today: he had just had his farewell. Photos that will be cried at, were taken in abundance with people who will never fade from his heart. He knew that this wasn’t the last time he would see them all but something told him that this might very well be the last time he saw them all ‘TOGETHER’. He wiped off the tiny drops of tears from his eyes and got up to leave. .

Some gentleman told that ‘Change is the only constant and hanging on is the only sin’. Well, forgive me for sinning because I want to hang on to my college life, even if it is with the tiniest of threads.

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

The first Woman of his life

It was 6 .05 in the morning. It was his 54th birthday. He was looking at the woman who was the reason for his existence. She was sleeping at the bed near the window of her room and it was evident to anyone who cared to note, that the breathing was not with ease. It had become a struggle; the past few months.

He suddenly remembered all those times when she was the one who would wake him up, this day of the year, to make him feel special at least for a moment or two, before he went back to living the life he hated. Her little attempts at making him feel proud for the person he was; her boasting to her friends and colleagues about what a good son he was. She’d lost her husband, a year after giving birth to their only son, to a bike accident. He had never understood the meaning of the word ‘Dad’. He had, in fact, never bothered to understand it. It was because of his wonderful mother who was everyone he wanted, to go through in life. Brought up in a society where marks and economic status were considered as yardsticks for judging the quality of one’s life as an adolescent and an adult, he had never felt at home among the forerunners. He was not intimidated by them but he just couldn’t fathom the lives of ‘man-machines ‘, that thought a six digit salary was the benchmark of happiness. He remembered all the little chats they had, deep into the evenings about the most trivial things in life. She was the one who gave him his principles and he’d always felt thankful to her for developing him into a morally stable person. He remembered all those incidents when he would have realised a bit too late, the one or two drops of tears that dripped out of his eyes just thinking about the struggle that her life had been.

It was a feeling of déjà vu when he felt the moisture across his cheeks and realised that the clock had struck seven. He walked up to her and whispered in her ear, ‘Love you Mom!’ and kissed her in her forehead. That was all he needed, to look forward to one more year of the life he hated.

Monday, January 10, 2011


He was finally at peace. With her by his side, where he
knew she always belonged. Nothing could compare with the
serenity and contented glow she always managed to bring
him. The past made him shudder. There had been so many
times when she had been so close and yet so far from him.
He shuddered, remembering the days he’d woken up in the
middle of the night, snapping out of yet another dream about
the hand which was always in sight, but was never his to
hold. He still had trouble believing that this wasn’t another
one of those dreams...

He’d always been the guy who was around to help her when there was anything bothering her from spats with her boyfriend to arguments with her friends or family.. he was always around, listening to her prattle on about everything under the sun. Yet he was certain that she wouldn’t have been as carefree with him, if she could look through his eyes and see what he saw when he looked at her.. He’d liked her from the first day they spoke to each other, and he liked the person he was, when he was around her. Then one day, she told him about the other guy in the picture. It broke his heart, but he could never bring up the courage to stop talking to her. He had a heart brimming with love, and he knew who he wanted to give it to, but he wasn’t sure if she’d ever want to accept it. He never considered telling her the way he felt; He was afraid, afraid that he’d confuse the already confused person that she was! On the many occasions she’d come to him crying and ranting about the feuds she had with the other guy, he had to grit his teeth to stop himself from pouring out his feelings. He knew she deserved someone much better, someone who understood, appreciated and loved every fibre of her being… and all he wanted was to be given a chance to be that guy! She treated him as the closest of close friends, yet he could never see her as just a friend. He knew that she was THE one… Then one day she came running to him with heart-stopping news..she’d broken up with the other guy. He was appalled at how she was taking it... She lost her characteristic sunny and cheerful manner. Even on the rare occasions that he got her to smile; he could see the muted pain deep in her eyes. He became the wall for her to lean on during those tough times. He was always there, to wipe her tears, to soothe her when she woke up out of a nightmare and to help ease the pain, to make her smile and to tell her that everything would be okay. He forgot all about his own hopes and feelings, all he wanted was for her to smile and be happy again.. Slowly he felt her healing and getting back to normal. But everything changed the day she slipped her hand into his, looked at him with shining eyes, and said, ‘I finally know what I want. It’s been right in front of me all along!’

P.S : Edited by someone with a far better grasp over the language than me ;) And the scenario was hers for me to paint :)

Sunday, December 5, 2010


He got down from the bus, taking in the surroundings ever so slowly. The places where he'd so often forgot that time moved; the places where he'd come running to, when he felt low; the places which had seen his extreme emotions. He felt complete, after such a long time. It was as if he had left a part of him behind there, just so that he wouldn't forget the boy he was. It had been a long time since he last kept his foot on this land. It was so serene and peaceful, as if nothing had happened; nothing had changed. Yet, there he was, a completely different person coming back for something he had left behind. He was walking at a steady pace now, reminiscing about the day he had decided it was time. .
His life had been a mess. He was regularly having bouts of depression. He had started to question his place, in the life of others surrounding him. He started to feel like an alien among the closest of his friends. He was wondering whether he was doing what he loved. It was she, who'd told him to 'walk a different road'. When others started to hate his presence, she had felt obliged to comfort him. He still couldn't forget how beautiful she was. Those brown/black eyes; her petite nose, which made a mockery out of the sharpest of lines, when looked at from the sides; her lips, which could slither into a smile with such ease ; her ears, which had all those different angles and curves which no geometry could get close to defining; the curly lots of her hair that he loved twirling onto his fingers. He had missed her the most, of all the things when he had tried to start a new life at a new place. She hated to see him become silent and moody. All he had to do was, to talk to her and everything went back to normal. It was like, she had this power to adsorb all the resentment out of him. He had never known a woman could be so comforting because he had lost his mother at a very early stage in his life. And all of a sudden, it had occurred to him that he was starting to smother her, although she had laughed at him when he told her that. He had told her what he wanted to do and he had been their to see the pain in her eyes, when he told her he had to move away for some time. He told her that he would come back and she told him that she would wait for him forever. They had decided they wouldn't communicate with each other, other than in their presence. .

And now, after nearly 9 years he was going back for her. He could still hear her words that were spoken that day; her awkward attempt at being cheerful even though she felt more sad than she could've ever imagined. He was almost there now. A mere five yards separated him from the door he'd so often dreamt of knocking, in his dreams. He felt a hand on his shoulder. A whisper in his ear : 'Forever, is not as long as it sounds' . .

Thursday, September 30, 2010


It was 11:59 pm. He never really liked being called at that hour and his close ones knew it. He was waiting for their texts, nevertheless. He had grown to expect their texts. There were a lot of people, who made it a point to be the earlier ones to wish him. When he was an adolescent, he even felt proud about having people who took the trouble to stay awake just to wish him. Tick by tick, the second hand, the minute hand and most importantly, the hour hand were all moving towards the mark. It was 12 am. It was 12.01, when he didn't even allow the vibrations to complete, before picking his phone to see who'd managed to wish him first this year. It was actually a number, rather than a name, and he glanced at the words that were typed after a considerable amount of thought.
Happy Birthday Buddy. Hope you remember Me.

Now he got back to the number. He had changed to a new phone a couple of years back and he happened to delete a few of his 'old' contacts. But he needed no name to identify this person. There are certain things that get etched into a part of your mind, that never forgets, and for him this was one of them. The irony struck him instantly. He'd wished that he could forget him but he'd never really been able to. .

It was the first year of college. Aadithya was someone adept at blending into any crowd. He had no problem finding friends. People who made him feel comfortable at that new place and people, who he'd thought he could turn to, when he was at trouble. But he always managed to realize the hard way that, people were never what they appeared to be. Few of them , who had no shame in using him and few others, who acted like they were true friends. But not all were bad. He managed to find a few true ones as well. The ones that were still in touch with him. The ones that still made him miss college. One of them, was Sathya. Sathya was never taken to be a friendly person. People hardly liked him, before knowing him. Aadithya felt no different. For someone really delicate in the inside, Sathya had this rough and tough swagger about him. He was not openly rude to others but people managed to get on his nerves, a bit too easily. But Aadi managed to see right through him. He became close to him and started to trust him. Getting Sathya to trust him, was totally different. Even after 3 or 4 years he wasn't sure if Sathya liked him as a friend. Time took care of the differences in their character. It made them accept each other for what they were. After all, jigsaw pieces which fit together, don't always look alike. They did have their occasional misunderstandings which had gotten more infrequent and hurting over time. But one of them eventually gave in. Except for once. It had all started with a stupid argument that seemed to have no end. Both of them had refused to come out of their perspective. .

Ever so slowly, he looked at his watch. It was 12.10 am. Almost 5 years traversed through in 10 minutes! Although he managed to get more friends, Aadi couldn't deny the fact that he missed Sathya at times. He missed his mere presence which felt so comforting. He'd always considered Sathya as an elder brother he never wanted to miss. Even before he could realize it, his fingers had typed the text and were collectively waiting for one among themselves to press the Send button, which his thumb eventually did, at 12.20.