No Regrets

A sapling had just pushed out of the ground. It takes enormous effort to push through the earth. It is the same effort as it takes a chicken to hatch from the egg. It takes all of that effort, but if truth be told it is one effort that I willingly made, to push through the earth and to see the world above. I stood there at awe. 

Not that I had not seen it before. I came from the same soil, the same earth, but this was a new life and new lives are exciting. I looked around, I was mostly alone in a barren piece of land. I was what they call a weed, but I did not know that. The terrain was rocky and crumbly and tilting to one side. Stones just rolled freely down the slope now and then. Some would hit me and change it's course. Others just  stayed back within my little branches. Some were big enough to hurt me and if I was lucky enough, none would be big enough to injure me fatally, till I grew old enough to not be bothered by them. 

The other weeds near me were just as content as I was. After all there was hardly anything for us other than warning each other of a possible threat, through our root system, bask in sun and enjoy the view, whatever it be. The choice to enjoy or complain was ours, the view was offered to us. One night it rained heavily, all my branches twisted and broke. I was left with one tiny leaf on my side. I was sure I would die, how would a plant my size breathe and eat with just one leaf? But I pulled off. I saw that whole season. Since it kept raining, the leaves had no problem shooting out and pulling me up. But we plants don't fear dying. We only avoid it. We avoid it when we can. But we don't mourn death. It is how we are made. 

Soon I discovered I would not really have flowers. I was a barren plant, I was disappointed, but not sad. I would have loved to have flowers, but it did not matter to me to not have any, I was there that is all. 

Once a man came trudging up the slope. A heavy bag on his back; listless, restless like the stones which roll down the slope. He just kept walking up, up and up, as if he had a purpose. We weeds were really inspired by him. He was so sure, so certain of what he wanted. He was not exactly going like the stones, nothing would change his course. We saw him falling, hurting, tired and hungry, but he did not stray from his chosen path. In plant kingdom, we live care free, not for a purpose but just because it is a gift to live with. This was new for us, so the plants right from the foot of the slope, were relaying news about him. 

Weeds up the slope were eagerly awaiting to see the saint. He appeared to be a saint to us. He came and sat right next to me on a rock. One of those which kept rolling down the slope. He sat on it to rest. But at that moment there was a mild tremor and the rock moved. It was big enough to disempower the saint. The rock rolled and dropped the saint down the slope. It then rolled over me and killed most of me and then kept rolling and fell on the saint. The rock became red. 

We waited for one or two of the saint's leaves to come out to save him. But he remained silent. We waited for his roots to ask for help, so we could send nutrition, but he remained silent. No one came for him. He remained under the rock and decayed. That is when we learned that, this man had no-one and he was going nowhere. We understood he was not a saint, he was in search of something he did not have.

I pulled out of the rock injuries. The next summer however brought dryness which I could not take and I dried up, I died. I was with my family and I was never going anywhere or seeking anything. So my death completed a cycle I had come to live. I happily left the world. 

Do what you wish for! #FireUpYourPassion lady #AmWriting

I stand at the edge of the metro platform, reading the warning down on the track, '750 volts, keep away'. I imagine myself standing on top of the track, hair standing, eyes popping, blackened face, steam blowing out the ears. Nah, I say, not a good idea.

I look at the speed limit on the hilly road, 30 KM Per Hour, I imagine stamping on the pedal and wrrrroom! Hopping right into the valley, many 1000 feet down, stuck in a tree branch, a perfect cinemascope moment. I wonder if the branches are placed appropriately down there, Tch! Tch! I say, not a good idea.

Peeping into the lion's cage in the zoo, I want to jump right in, to run my fingers through its mane. I picture myself fighting the offended lion, with my bare hands and I say, not a good idea. A little further in the zoo, I imagine my hand inside the crocodile's mouth or getting bitten by the vicious viper and I most certainly and emphatically say, not a good idea.

I stand near the door of the aircraft flying at 30,000 Ft, sipping mineral water in a paper cup. I stand right next to the liver which invites: 'Lift up to open'. I tell myself, enough now go back to the seat and I comply. But my mind does not know when to stop. So I just let it fantasize. But I know when it’s not a good idea.

And then I wonder why! Why does the mind play with me wickedly? I am all blood and mangle at the end of its adventures, at-least in my thought. And an answer pops! No wonder it does! I say NO so often. What if I did something I really wanted to? What if I did something really dangerous, exhilarating and adventurous? Like planning a holiday alone? No. Writing a book? No. Eating out all by myself at a fine dine restaurant? No. Cooking a special meal for myself? No. Laughing out loud for no reason at all? No. Singing on the streets? No. Going bungee jumping, para gliding or sky diving? No. Fighting my greatest fears like the fear of cockroaches and lizards? No. What if I did all this, would my mind still play the gruesome games? They say idle mind is the devils workshop or playground or outhouse or palace or whatever. I am the devil when it comes to myself!

"Think about the risks of doing the doable," says the mind craftily. "Better not conjure these fantasies," it says. "Let me show you how to work around it," it offers. Voila! The gruesome pictures emerge in our minds. The headline on the local daily pops up, 'Girl dies doing what she wished for!' And then it is safe not to attempt those absurdities, ever!

We are like the patty in our favourite burger. It’s awesome, the patty I mean. It has a possibility of its own, even without the bun on its both sides. It is just too shy to come by itself, so it hides between the sliced up bun. The bun, which by the way tastes flat, dry and unsavoury by itself! Yet the patty thinks it is the bread which sells the awesome burger! Huh! And double Huh! And you know what I do? I buy the patty with no bun!

An acquaintance screamed at me the other day, I am very scared of dogs! And I wondered why. I am scared of people more. Hopeless me! I often meet these Martian kinds, who think they are entitled to fear of the endangered. For, which specie is not endangered in the hands of '(WO)-MAN'?

Okay so let’s do this exercise, think of your smart phone, that lovely devise with captivating screen, google, facebook, whatsapp and all. Now think of a flood and the smart phone gone! Who are you now? Tuche! Touche! I hope you know what to do, now that the fishes swim in your home, where you hid from the deadly dogs, lizards, bugs, flies and more. What now?

There is no fear which is not feared by all. Yet some rise over it. Do this and that and do whatever you like. Just remember every fear is worth standing up to. For in flood, in rain, in earthquake, fire or hurricane, you are no more or less than you are now. Go out and do what you wish for, so what if you think you can't. 

The Joker

Face painted white with large red circles on the cheeks, a thick red outline to the mouth. one eye painted with a red circle and the other with black, a long Santa clause hat on the head, the joker looked perfect for the act. "I got black eye'" he said, pointing to the black circle around his eye. "And I painted the wrong eye red!" Crowd giggling at his jokes.

"You know what is a joker without dress sense? ...A stand up comedian." The crowd clapped at this one with loud guffaws. "Truth be told the jokers are out of business. These are days of standup comedians. They and their double meaning jokes. Look at me, I am a joker and even if I don't speak you will laugh at me..." He just stood there looking from side to side, acting serious and the crowd roared with laughter. "You laugh at me because you know I am here to make you laugh and not to make people laugh at your expense." The clapping of the crowd showed that the crowd was in agreement with this funny man.

"Did you know I used to be a stand up comedian, the last guy I made fun of, is still running behind me with a dagger. But now he can't find me. I am safe behind the painted face!" Another applause.

"And I don't need to sound at all intellectual to make you laugh! Whatever I do is funny, look at me," he waved his hand towards the crowd, his frilly red gloves, many sizes bigger than his hand, kids roared with laughter. "Just look at me. Get a standup comedian to stand next to me. Who would make you laugh more?"

Now there was silence and from somewhere behind a thin wiry man came hopping over the feet of spectators and stumbling on the auditorium stairs and up on to the stage. "I am a stand-up comedian." Said the wiry man. "Well you will find it hard to stand, but anyway come stand next to me." Said the Joker. And there they were, a joker in all his trappings and the thin wiry man in a t-shirt and Jeans. The past meeting the present. "Who do you want to laugh at? The crowd was doubling up with laughter."

"Hey joker, called out the wiry man," joining in his act, "what have you against me?"

"I don't. look at me, I am healthy well fed, he said pointing to his fat belly," part of his joker costume, "and you are the one emaciated for food. Here I will offer you my jacket and you will become well fed too." He began taking off the jacket with the potbelly.

"You are fat," said the wiry man.

"Says who? The man who did not eat for years?" Retorted the joker

"No the man whose food you have been eating all these years," said the wiry man.

Now the joker was feeling the pinch. The wiry man was getting the trick and was getting at him.

"Okay man, here I found your long lost brother please hug him. He offered a wire to the man." The wiry man took it and hugged it and began crying, continuing the act. While spectators laughed on.

The crowd's roaring laughter suggested that the situation was getting precarious for the joker.

"You and your brother can take your seats," he announced. "Just make sure not to leave any lose ends on the stage." And he had the crowd back clapping for him. The wiry man was back in his seat. Social distancing is the best way to avoid this catch 22 situation in the future, thought the joker to himself. What a lesson!

You Win

"I win, I win. I am going to win for sure." Rhea jumped up and down on the sofa.

Ila didn't bat her eyelid before saying, "whats is all this fuss about winning or losing Rhea, I thought we were having fun,"

But Rhea had geared up for defence. "Oh well, that is what they say when they are losing, loser...loserrrr!"

This was how Rhea and Ila fought, played, laughed, joked and fought again, got tired and slept. Rhea had no other friends to play with, so her mother had to be her friend. Ila had no other adult to talk to so her daughter had to be her confidant. They were not far from civilisation... they were not even far from the next door neighbour. They were in an apartment complex, living the social distancing, locked up within the four walls of their own flat.

The streets empty and desolate. the virus invisible but rampant. Was the world coming apart? Ila was jerked out of her revere when Rhea came running with her latest art work. Rhea loved to draw. At 8 she was bubbling with energy all day which Ila had hard time channelising. Her artwork time was the relaxation time for Ila.

Chill ran through Ila's spine, as she looked at this new art work from Rhea. One girl, just her back in a city, with tall buildings and parks and shut down shops and dogs and cats. Just one girl in the entire city, faceless, alone and lonely, walking aimlessly. She ran to Rheas room to check her earlier drawings, one tree in a desolate land, one sapling on a white sheet of paper, one pencil, one leaf... Rhea was taking this lockdown into her psyche. She was creating a lonely girl in all her drawings.

Tears ran down her cheeks as Ila hugged Rhea, "It is not going to be always like this Rhea. You will play with your friends again soon." Ila was not sure she was consoling Rhea or herself.

"Mamma why are you crying? I am scared." Rhea's little form trembled within Ila's arms. She just held her, comforting her, as Rhea began wriggling out of her arms.

"Catch me if you can." Rhea squealed and ran. Back to being the child that she was.

"You win Rhea." Ila said, running towards her little girl to catch her and tickle her up in loads.

The Red dosa batter

The dosas were crisp, they were hot and steaming. Awesome. The batter just the right consistency. Did you use the wild brown rice? Babita exclaimed excitedly. The batter had that brownish red tinge to it. "Ya...." said Seema sounding bored and non committal. The fact is she was glad the bandage was not visible. Last night was awful. She didn't use knife to stir the batter usually, it was just a mistake, she was working on the batter when he came in and attacked her. the first blow on her wrist, slashed it a little but missed her veins... This was her kitchen, she knew where the knives were kept. She plunged her knife into his gut several times and then got back to the dosa batter, and that is when by mistake some of the red on the knife dripped in the batter.

She still had a task at hand. If Babita had not barged into her house so early in the morning she would have been out in the wilderness, trying to dump the assailants limp corpse. She had been too busy last night to drop it off. No one disturbed her when she was cooking. She had dumped the body in the car's boot and gone back to doing what she was doing.

This was an old bungalow. In the midst of a large piece of land. An orchard at the back and a huge lawn in the front. Seema first debated burying the corpse in the orchard. But she did not want her fruits to be sullied by the assailant's bodily remains. She felt it was negative Feng-Shui.

She decided that the mushy forest near her home was more apt for the task.

Babita dropped a bomb at Seema when she least expected. "I need to borrow your car Seema. It is urgent, I have an interview, I cannot miss it and my car has conked."

"NO," Seema screamed inadvertently. "No you can't take my car, it has a break problem. You might get into trouble." Seema saved the situation barely.

"Okay Seema. I am leaving." Said Babita, quite abruptly, without putting up a fight. That was surprising, but Seema did not want to rake it up and again have her asking for the car!

She did not notice Babita stealthily picking up the car key on her way out. She heard it when it was too late. The car was leaving the driveway.

She picked up the phone, "Hello Police, I want to report the theft of my car... Some time last evening...yes please note licence plate number is KA...."

She did not know it would be so easy!

Killing Time!

The odds were all against her. Sangeeta was holding the revolver in her hand. She did not have license to it. They had trained her on how to use it. The deal was simple. She would kill. And if she got away with it good for her. If she did not, bad for her. But if she did not do it at all! too bad for her. Because they were holding her hostage.

Did you hear it right? She was being held hostage and she was the one with the gun! Well it did not add up, did it? That was the trick in this game too. If it did not make sense no one would get to the bottom of it.

In politics it happens everyday. And they always get away with it. Everyone needs proof of allegiance and this meant making yourself vulnerable. And in politics they say this is the most reliable way to make yourself vulnerable. Commit a crime and don't get caught. That clue goes in the file of the party high command and stays there. In that moment you became eligible to grow in the ranks. Simple, isn't it? There is no allegiance bigger than the allegiance of crime! She was told that it was for a good cause. All her dreams to serve her country were held hostage. "What is one crime?" She reasoned "One teeny-weeny crime, as long as you get away." This was not a siege, they explained, pushing towards her, pictures of the Parliament Bomb Blast and 26/11 siege; these are unpardonable. Killing someone.!.. that depended who you killed! Simple.

"Why the revolver?" She queried. "Why not the poison. Or maybe suffocating the target to death. How about gassing the target."

"No, No and No," they said, their hollow laughter sending a chill into her. It was important that the high command had evidence, strong enough to hold her accountable. Usually some smart alecks get away with the crime and leave no evidence, this creates a passe, they can neither deny the person nor offer a decent post in the party. "It is now a policy," they explained... "for the candidate to have an unlicensed gun. Even if you do not leave enough evidence at least the party will have something on you. If nothing we can ruin your career!"

She could feel the sweat building up on her temple. Her palms getting sweaty as she rubbed them on her jacket. She had worn one with an inside pocket. This was suggested to her so she could carry a small revolver without being noticed.

She had driven alone for the meeting, just to be extra careful. Her driver a Middle aged fatherly man, often her confidante, asked too many questions. She liked it because ever since she joined politics, she had spent weeks at a stretch cooped up in her car for long hours, traveling constituency to constituency, helping candidates campaign. It helped to have someone to talk to, generally.

She now needed a target. Her life had always been about success and now that she was so close to being offered some serious action in the party, she would not let it go for one meaningless life, she reasoned. Not everyone in this planet has the same right to live. For example her school teacher! The one who sexually abused the teens to give them the question papers! And that warden of the orphanage where she grew up... He had no business beating them up like animals for smallest of mistakes. That was the time she had decided to do something for people. She still remembered that she chose to fail rather than be abused sexually. That was the day she understood that she had a higher calling.

But here was the challenge. "You cannot kill someone with whom you have known enmity." There goes her school teacher and the warden. "You cannot kill a stranger, very difficult to prove if needed..." There goes millions of people who can very well be let go of, because she just didn't know them and therefore didn't worry whether they lived or died. "You have to kill someone you know and are in reasonably good terms with." So that it is not easy for police to prove your involvement but it will be easy to prove if needed. "And lastly you cannot kill a family member... blood is thicker than water, we have seen members lose their composure after killing their family."

Did they have a written manual or they had just memorised it all, Sangeeta wondered. Now with the revolver in her possession, she was informed that someone would be following her, She would never know who but her every action would be watched. "We have party members even amongst the beggars," they warned. "So don't try to dodge, and certainly don't outsource. We will know. And in that case we may take drastic measures"

She knew only a handful of people who she was close to. She had no family and she did not have many close friends. She did have many friends, but they were mostly transactional, nothing personal. She had a spotless life till then. Likeable, reliable and goal oriented. That was the reason she had come to the notice of the party high command.

She had no idea where she would find her victim. She made a mental list of people she could target. Her house help, her driver, her boy friend... boyfriend would become ugly. Her business associate? Too obvious. And then she remembered... her driver was into gambling. Every week he needed advance of some kind to go and gamble. His weakness. He was a perfect target. But he was also her true confidante.

She decided she will not to waste time thinking. She would just get done with it. Consider him a soldier. The nation needs me and I need him to lose his life for the nation.

She planned it meticulously. She would give him a leave for a week, maybe make a trip to someplace.  She would get a rundown car from some garage in the other town. Drive back in the car to the town, kill, and drive back to the resort. The police would call her, once they discovered about the death. The plan was so simple and fool proof that she was literally convinced she would get away with it.

And so she did, a one week trip to a nearby resort. Taking a brake before the upcoming elections. She found the car in the village in a garage. The guy practically gave it to her for free. He said, "The engine is perfect, but drive it very very slow." The body may have been in the junkyard rusting for centuries.

It was the slowest 100 km drive back to her city. She was happy the drive was slow, because she wanted the time to unravel. Kamal's house it was a little too silent. She peeped from a window. He was sitting on the bed, hands held up, to her disbelief!

She had thought, he did not know she was even in the town. For him to wait hands-up was a little too much to grapple. Just then she noticed the other man, his back was facing the window. He was pointing a gun at Kamal. She had the aim at the man. Now she wondered who to shoot? Kamal? or the Assailant? As she tried to solve this abnormal puzzle she heard a gunshot. The driver was still on the bed, sitting straight, he had not been shot, it was only a threatening shot. And then the roof crumbled. The house fell like a sand castle, not repaired for long, the vibration of the gunshot and the bullet hitting the ceiling did the job. In the scuffle, she realised she had hit a bullet too. She had no time to find out who she hit. She ran to her car, it was easy because everyone was rushing to the scene of disturbance, they did not know it was also a scene of crime.

She jumped on to the driver's seat, but it was great to have a slow onward journey, but she needed a faster locomotive now. She dumped the car in a garbage yard, walked to the nearest bus stop and boarded one to get back. Covering her head with her scarf so she would not be recognised. She reached back to the resort, only to be told that there were several calls for her. She had switched off her mobile to avoid being tracked. She realised she had no alibi. If anything, there were enough evidence to prove she was nowhere close to the resort when the incident took place. A whole busload of people. And then she got the worst shock of her life. She had stashed the revolver in the glove compartment of her rundown car. With her fingerprints all over it. She did not ask who had called. She dialled back the number that was left by the caller. The person at the other end said, Madam, Kamal, your driver, has passed away.

She did not know why the person sounded familiar. She chose to ignore that. She guessed maybe all men in Kamal's neighbourhood sounded the same. She booked a coach to get back home, to mourn Kamal's death. And lo and behold, her ramshackle car stood right at the porch. She only barely managed to get into the house when a heavily bearded man came out to greet her. He took her suitcase and motioned her in. Once in the drawing room, Kamal said, Madam, I hope you will understand why I am faking my death... I am in debt. The other day a man came to kill me and got crushed under my roof by accident. I managed to run out of the place. And then by chance I found this car in a junk yard and a revolver too. I took it and left the place. I am going back to the village. It has been great working for you madam, but the time has come for me to go... there is only one thing left to do... Kamal picked up the gun and Sangeeta lost a beat.

Kamal said, "Madam, I don't know what to do with this revolver. I don't want to be caught with it. Please keep it and give it to the police. Make up some story and just get rid of it."

Holding the revolver, Sangeeta aimed it towards Kamal as he walked out of the house... She wondered if this constituted qualification for some action in the party. 

Parent of Teens Can Be Really Unreliable!

"I am not here to tell you what you are doing is wrong or right. I just want to tell you that you be aware of what you are doing." Dad said to Anuj. He had been hiding in his bathroom for long and dad knew why! Wonder who else knows!

Anuj often hid himself in the bathroom. That was the only place in the world where he was alone. All other places in the house seemed to have spies following in his track. He hated to admit it, but there he was day after day, sitting in the bathroom. Sometimes flipping through erotic magazines, sometimes masturbating and sometimes just reading a good novel, once he even did his math homework in the bathroom.

Dad may have been firm but he also sounded understanding! Next time when he went to the bathroom he checked the whole place for hidden cameras. You cannot trust the parent of teens, they can be really unreliable, Anuj thought.

No... no cameras. Satisfied that he was alone in the bathroom he relaxed. His parents had changed of late. They did not treat him the way they did before! Anuj missed their love and blind trust, which was always bestowed on him. What had changed now? Why were they acting weird of late? What did they fear?

He was no more a kid and he had hoped that this should go in his favour and make his parents to trust him even more. But for the first time in his life, he felt like a stranger in his own home. He either would be away at a friend's place, where there were other sets of eyes keeping watch on them... his friend and him. He felt suffocated... in school his teachers had changed their attitude towards the class. Suspicion seemed to be written on their faces. If students kept a promise,  the teachers acted as if they got lucky for once and if the students acted irresponsibly, the adults made it known that this is just what was expected and that they were right in doubting them.

Life in short sucked. Adults can be really complicated. Specially parents. You never know when they will change tracks. It seemed to Anuj that his parents had shifted allegiance. And now they were in conspiracy against him and his contemporaries, with all other parents and teachers.

Anuj was back in the bathroom. He just sat on the commode, not wanting to come out. Life as he knew it was falling apart. But the shining tiles of the bathroom somehow made him feel a little comfortable.

And then there was a knock at the door, not the main door, the bathroom door. Anuj gathered himself up and decided to come out. He had been there for way too long. Dad was right outside, something just gripped him and he hugged his dad and said, I love you dad!

And it seemed that day Anuj became a real adult. Home began to look like home again, was this all that was needed? Anuj wondered!