The Curtain Call

She trudged through the bog that normality had in store for her. She had a high paying job which made no sense to her and no use to anyone. The surreal visions of her childhood were rotting in the conformity of the excel sheet. Her world housed 2 kinds of people.

•       The depressing ones who complain they gave up their dream  for a high paying job.
•          The smug assholes, who stood up against the world ,fought their way up by being true to themselves and their conscience, taking up failures more cheerfully for it meant more than success at something they never wanted, and having a honest-to-self, happy life.

Her problem was that she never had a dream job. She hardly aspired to be anything in her life. For her, merely surviving was a tough nut to crack that she left her future to unfold as it took its course. Kindly go ahead judging her for lamenting about “surviving” when she had a comfortable upbringing. 

Are we done? 

Yes? 

Moving on then. She never felt “at home” even at her own house, feeling like an outsider with her kin. A recluse who preferred doing "nothing", doesn't ring normal but she preferred being that. For in all her "nothingness" she saw herself, in the absence of an actual life she felt lively, enjoying the dormant state her life had been pacing for 25 years.

It was not the inert part of her life that had pushed her to contemplating about ending it, but the parts which had activity. She hated being called an idiot for not knowing the coldest place in the world while she sat under the asbestos roof of her classroom on a 40°C day. She hated being slapped when she complained to her mother about the family friend being too friendly with her. She hated having her food taken away for the society felt she was gaining girth. She hated being paraded in front of families that were looking for a mate for their male heir. She hated being ridiculed when she acted a little crazy and tried to blend in with the world. In spite of the hatred, she masked them all to conform. She learned how to spell Vostok Station in Antarctica, smile and participate when the family friend visited them, eat smaller meals and sleep hungry, and put up her best feminine presence for the familial congregations for spousal hunting. Living made her want to die.

She never planned out a suicide or ventured about exploring the various options available. She wanted to embrace death when it came, but she wished it to come soon. What depressed her more than the thought of killing herself was how her long gazes at the knives and razors went unnoticed by her family. Her tear and kohl stained pillow cases drew rage than concern from her mother and discussing about life for her parents after her death, sharing her various insurance details and nominee information got her appreciation from her father. She wondered if this was normal and if it was, she was happy that she was better off being abnormal. Despite the picture she paints about her family, they were good people who were simply ignorant about their daughter’s suicidal thoughts.

The void in her being and the alternate offered to her simply drove her insane. She didn't know what had pushed her over the ledge, but she picked 5^th of November, to stay remembered. She had sorted all her affairs, written her “Letters from Beyond” to her family and the few friends she had, crafted a will regarding to whom she wanted her material possessions to go to and insisting on a burial. Though her rational thoughts were against this, the little part of hope for her family wanted her to be buried so that they can visit her. She felt e-burning to be quick and final, that it robs the mourners of their final moments with the deceased. You at least get to stare at the funeral pyre but to be incinerated by an unknown person behind closed doors seemed sad.

It was a cloudy and dull dawn on the 5^th of November. She woke up to early but stayed in bed admiring as the sky changed its shading by the passing minute. After what seemed to be an awful amount time, she was up and ready. She remembered that she needed to pick up something from the market before she left. As she journeyed to the market, she realized every little thing that she saw would probably be her last experience. She thought about all the books she wouldn't read, all the music she wouldn't listen to, all the movies she wouldn't watch, all the people she wouldn't meet. She laughed at how obscure everything seemed as she waited for 62 seconds for the traffic light to change, to cross the road.

Life, why art thou a female hound?

A Singer. That's what she had wanted to become when she grew up. She did not know if she was a good singer, but since she had been taking classical music lessons on her mother’s insistence, she assumed her singing was good. If not why would her mother send her to those classes. Her career choices had been mundane during her tender years when she did not know what the word “career” meant. She had also wanted to become a teacher,for she had enjoyed playing the "School game" at home, but resented the fact that her elder sister always played the teacher and she got the role of the janitor for the imaginary kids.

Then, an age had come where her choices in life included where to hide while playing Hide-and-Go Seek, or when to strike the ball while playing cricket, or how to hide her scrapped knee from her mother, or what tattoo to choose from the 5 choices that were handed out when she got her chewing gum. Fun years of her life. Her grades were good, her friends were wonderful and there was not one thought of dread that clouded her mind.

Then, the fateful teenage. She was sane enough to cut short on her vanity and but not enough as she wanted to solve the world problems. She wished not to be the princess of the world but to be its leader. She thought she knew the world well enough that she could save it and all the people from their miseries. She imagined herself to be "The Messaiah" , The reckoning, “The One”. It was history and an encouraging teacher who had filled her head with all these notions of God complex. She fell in love with the past and decided that it would be her enabler when she addressed her great calling. Indian golden age, French renaissance, freedom struggle, American history and many other instances of the past fascinated her. Along the same time came English literature. The words and rhymes of the many English poets and bards had cajoled her heart as much as history fascinated her mind. She wanted them both, to sharpen her mind and soften her heart. She satiated her heart by writing bad poetry that she loved. She whetted her mind by learning about the countries and all the events through their existence. 

When her day of reckoning came knocking at her door, her parents chose Engineering. She passed four years there, having no strong footing in anything remotely in regard to the field. She joined the IT band wagon in a large multinational manger for many a sheep like her. Aimless, she wandered around in that world, doing what she was bid to. She found solace in her peers who were complaining as much as she did.

However, there were the ones who stood apart. The ones who chose to chase their dreams. The ones who looked forward to a Monday. In spite of failures, let downs, heart breaks they championed their one true dream passionately and this carped her. Those bloody imbeciles, who cherished their choices and loved their lives. Her inability to stand up for herself made her a cripple,not the differently abled kind, but of the subset Loser.She decided it wasn't too late to catch up on the history and literature and voiced her frustration she had in the field laid out by her parents, by her Alma mater and by her employer. Her parents suggested she might be happy if she switched to another profession like a banker. 

Exactly. 

All that a history loving, English literature aspirant needs is a switch over to banking. She realized as much as she wanted to save the world when she was a kid, she needed to save her life now before it rusted out.

That was the day she got to her feet...

.

.

.

.





.

.
.
and sat back as she read her credit card statement.

The day She decided to Run Away

There is a certain time during your sleep cycle, when you are neither awake nor asleep. It gets less visual, your hearing is more in use and you are not sure if what you partially see and almost fully hear is from your dream landscape or the reality. You hear things but you are not sure whether you can talk about it later to others, however that silly brain of yours registers the words. She heard venom. Venom spewed for her mere existence. The lazy persona of hers didn't please her overlords. As a mid-twenty spinster, she was a magnet of everything that is wrong with the girls of the time. Add a splosh of good old laziness to it and Voila..!! you get the perfect unwanted daughter to an already stressed out couple who were in the eternal lookout for a son and ended up with three disappointing daughters.

The lady of the house never ceased to complain and seized every opportunity to point out that she was disappointed with her daughter. Be it in an ever loving way or in the most extreme rudeness from a mother to daughter. The beating had stopped years ago, but the daughter preferred a slap or two than this. The sting of a strike and the humiliation of it may last for a few minutes or a couple of hours at the maximum, but the words, they pierce the skin, cut through the flesh and inflict pain somewhere in the thoracic cavity. Mother lady never thought about the damage she did. In actuality she is a lovely women, the best mother one  could hope for, but during her frustrated hours she could be a mean old thing. The words that form at the her lips can push you over the cliff. But do not judge her with this account. She is just another tired, overrun, housewife who had more than her share of miseries crushing her down, thanks to her daughters. Her anger is justified , but the daughter just doesn't get it.

The Father  is a tired old man. He had passed the cut off age for an elderly citizen and just wanted this last daughter of his out of the house, so he could enjoy his life peaceful for may be a few months, for in his life, there will be no peace. Thanks again to the daughters.

Coming back to the day she decided to runaway, it was a Christmas morning and it had nothing to do with this family. The daughter, a working woman, whose days start early but not too early, wanted to sleep in an extra 3 hours, while the mother wanted her to wake up with the sun and get her fat bottom to stop being so. The daughter hated it, but she did it anyway because she knows the her overlords meant it in a good way, but that particular day she was too tired. The dark comedy she watched the previous night did not come to her rescue when she heard her mother rant about how a lazy, ungrateful, worthless spawn she turned out to be. The daughter ,whose head was in the space between "fully awake" and "Gosh that dream was good , let me try if I can extend it a little bit more", was growing tired of the Mother lady's complaints just screamed,

 "Oh stop screaming will you?"

The Mother lady will not take such back talk lightly. She just continued her monologue in a more loud, irritated and rude tone. The daughter was awake now, but still in bed. Her anger was getting to her head and messed up the very little work her early morning brain could afford. She decided to runaway.

Through tears wiping away her toothpaste foam formed near her mouth, and an uncontrollable shake of rage she affirmed, she really wanted to leave. The last 2 years have been tough but today? Early in the morning? The day she wanted to rest in? She had had enough. As the last lather of soap was washed off, she took one deep breath and began to plan her get away.The famous bookstore at the center of the city popped up immediately, for apparently no good reason. She saw herself reading books and buying a few that could keep her company. One of the sane parts of her brain reminded her to get the list of books she wanted to read out from the folds of her old clothes.

She heard a chuckle.

Then suddenly her expensive dress came to her head, she needed a better stole for it. So next stop, clothes stores in the famous market place in the city. Another part that dealt with navigation reminded her that the market place would be much closer than the bookstore. So change in plan, market place and then the bookstore. The part of the brain that dealt with her innate shyness and introverted nature quipped up as to how embarrassing it would be for her to carry clothes bag to the high end book store, but Navigation asked the Introvert to shut up.

She heard a chuckle.

The Foreseer part asked what was the point of all the shopping and if she was going away for good, will she be coming back the same day, where she would stay, what about food, as she is in a well planned diet now that the Mother lady is feeding her. The Pride part said that she will figure it out as the day went by.

She heard a chuckle.

The Foreseer was pacified for the time being but also reminded her to plan the thing with her mobile so she cannot be tracked. The daughter felt it was a good start,came out of the bathroom and picked out a good dress to wear. The bookstore demanded she dresses well.

She heard a chuckle. She wondered why she kept hearing it, when suddenly the chuckle burst out a full blown howl. Someone was laughing their heads off. It was the part of her brain that dealt with Figures. It reminded her, she had no money, whatsoever. Her credit cards were maxed out, she owed a good deal of money to her she-sibling, a moral obligatory pay off to her Mother lady. Even her travel to the marketplace required her to borrow money from her Father.

She was looking for help from the other parts that were very much vocal a few minutes ago, but silence ringed as the figures part kept laughing. The eyes picked up the absence of any activity from the other brain parts and opened the flood gates. Tears were dissolving in the shower. The anger was back again not at the overlords, not at the things she thought was wrong with the world, not at the dark comedy from previous night, nothing but herself.

She stepped out of the shower, picked up her home clothes from her cupboard, and walked out of her room to the kitchen. Mother lady was still boiling with anger that her back talk had inflicted. When the daughter reached to get a bowl for the cereal, Mother lady guffawed and said "I thought you were better than this" .Pride cried out in protest, but accepted defeat and moved to a dark corner. Figures pulled some strings and managed to write a smile on the daughter's face. She moved back to her room, got the nice dress she had laid out for her get away, put it back in her cupboard and closed the door.

To Diana,with love.

A glimpse of your bearing

Through the veiled evening sky I caught.

Dazzling me with your sheer presence,

Lighting my darkest paths unaware.

You said I’d never be alone.

Miles apart, yet together we’d stay at heart.

You coasted through the clouded sky,

yearning for the sun that never came by.

As the drizzle filled with your pain

rained down on the world,

behind the dark clouds you vanished.

Never a moment had passed,

without me looking up there.

Searching for a ray of light,

searching for my ally,

Evading me for what seemed like an eon,

I still looked out.

Waiting for that one beam of hope.

And when you did,

when you peeked out

through the gloomy sky,

My sky lit up in your thereness,

It felt like not a minute had gone by.

For I am radiance and you are the moon.

Beyond blood and kinship,

Beyond distance and time,

Beyond now and eternity,

This bond shall go.
 Demanding not like, but the great love.

Not happiness, but euphoria.

Not a partner, but a companion.

Not some, but all.

Demanding infinity, we stand united.

Alone against the world,

but together we shall endure.

Through the loud music and light verses,

the withered pages and new leaves,

the moving frames of make believe.

Through life as it seems,

In search of the knights for our darkness,

who do not smother our luminescence.

We may fail at our cause,

But you will always know, you had an ally in me

Miles apart, yet together we remained at heart.

                                                                                                - The Illuminated

Your average Mommy day post..!!

I am assuming that mother’s day is around the corner for there are so many promotional campaigns and advertisements about how to impress your mother by sending her gifts. I have never been a fan of the Hallmark holidays, celebrating a relationship or an emotion or a gender; things we need to cherish everyday rather than downsizing it to one particular calendar day. Do you just need one day for love and one day for the women?

For all that she does, just one day for a mother? But what does she do? At least what does my mother do?

Like every other woman with unbearable children, my mother was strict, expected obedience, and good marks. My siblings and I complied to this with utmost devotion in our younger years, but as years went by following the norms of teenage, we rebelled now and then. My mother grew tired of our antics so she gave up on her firm hold and became a tad cooler. My sisters were married and out of our house, so I had the cool mom all to myself.

Almost all the children never call their mothers by name. My mother had scared my sisters so much about telling her name out loud, that they dared not to mention it even when they were asked. But then, I called her “J”. That’s how we roll.

Rather than instructing me to do things, she listened to what I had to say. She believed in my judgment and took suggestions from me. This may not be a big deal to the present generation “Hip-Mommas”, but my J is from a different century. She hailed from a small town, born in a big family with humble means, never had much experience with the world and became a mother when my friend’s mothers were either in school or in the crib. She was taught to comply, never to question. Your typical 1970’s Indian women.

In the flavours of her cooking, the vibrant shades of her neatly tied saris, her fragrance in the house, the unchanging way of how she rings the pooja bell, her bargaining skills, the way she stomachs our sickness, her curly hair, the vermilion stain on the center of her parted hair, her cracked heels and calloused hands, the rare smiles, the vapours of her medicinal oils, my mother was everywhere without being there.

She lived with a sense of selflessness, being the eldest sister to a big bunch of siblings. Even after all these years, with the size of our family down to three, my mother remains the same. The simple things she does, like taking the burnt dosa or chapati and offering the good ones to me and dad, not taking second helpings of that tasty dish she had made, buying something for her but give it up in a heartbeat, because my eyes had lit up seeing it, letting me sleep whilst holding on to her sari - even now, enjoying cricket with us and so many more things stand as a testament of the love she has for us. Small obscure things that she doesn’t mind, she doesn’t draw attention to, but they make me feel immensely gifted to be with her for they never go unnoticed.

Of course it is not roses and love all the days. There are days that I feel like throwing things at her. No matter what goes wrong between us or how long I decide not to talk to her, my mother never gave up on me. Every time I fall, she holds out a hand for me to get up. My refusal to rise doesn't deter her tenacity to get me up and going. She believes in every promise that I eventually fail to keep up. She holds on to me fiercely even when I walk away from everything. She cherishes my dreams, however obscure they may be. With all her love, that woman shames me for my mere existence.

I have always wondered if people can truly find their one great love.

I know have.

My J is my one true love, my knight in shining armor who really wants me to be saved from me. Nobody could ever love me unconditionally as much as she does. She is my hero, the one I look up to, the one I fail, the one I hurt, the one I care for, the one I wish to be someday, the one who means the world to me. She is the one. Everything and everybody come after her.

Most people feel this special about their mothers as well. I write this because this is the only honest emotion that I harbor. Her love is basis of my life. Everything good and bad that has stemmed out from there is my doing, but all this is impossible without my J.

My sweet J.

Timing, a well known Bitch

      She hated the mirror that hung near the mantle in her drawing room. The mantle held quite a few pictures from her younger days, framed in antique brass skeletons. It reminded her of the split screen comparisons shown in TV commercials. Her youthful, lively, sexy younger self on one side and a careworn, dull, ordinary face that sported the wrinkles of her mid thirties on the other side. Marriage had slowed down the free spirit that Ana was, but it was the three hyperactive children who had completely halted the flow through her interests in life. She had divided her time between the kitchen, her cabin and the kids room that it left little time to pause and scan through, in search of her life. She believed she had lost it somewhere between the diaper changing and attending the numerous PTA meetings, after Dev had come into her life.

        Dev, the love of her life, that her parents chose. She had no romantic relationships before him so she had no scale to compare the love she and Dev had shared, but she felt no sparsity. He respected her space, loved the kids, took her out now and then, cooked the Sunday lunch, kissed her forehead when he left for office, made love when they thought it had been quite a while, stayed home with the kids during the holidays when Ana had an important meeting, balanced the home budget, sang quiet well as he carried on with his mundane activities. He was a well raised, honest gentleman, whom Ana adored. Love grew into their marriage, slow yet unwavering.

      After 14 years of wedlock, everything in their life had found a normal course, except Ana felt few things were going wrong in the recent days. She felt changes in their marital life, subtle changes to the third pair of eyes, but to Ana, they were glaring right at her. Dev was a little more cheerful, but it felt vastly put on. He had long meetings quiet frequently, going beyond midnight, atleast twice a week. He remained occupied with his phone and texting had improved quiet drastically but Ana found no traces of it when she peeked at his phone. That worried her more. His drinking days had increased a little and their love making decreased. The fore head pecks, the gentle smiles, the hugs from behind, the hand holding had almost become obsolete and the ones that came by  felt feigned.

     Ana was not the jealous or suspicious type, but the mirror near the mantle induced a paranoia. Her crows feet seemed a little too deep, her dark circles looked darker, her hair looked thinner and lighter, her age spots looked prominent, her skin felt loose, her breast looked saggy, her whole posture seemed drooped. She confined to her close friend about these changes as any worried wife would do and as any friend of a worried wife would advice, her friend assured her that this may be the menopause talking and probably Dev was busy at work but it doesn't mean her suspicions may be wrong. This left Ana even more confused. She feared the answer she might get, if she confronted Dev, but staying in this grey area of not knowing anything concrete seemed even more painful. That was when she came across the advertisement for a detective agency in the obscure little magazine she had found in the bunch of old papers and periodicals at the dentist.

   Ana fixed her appointment with the detective agency and gave all the information regarding Dev. She kept asking about the confidentiality of the investigation and whether Dev would ever find out about this. The private investigator assured that everything would go fine. It took 3 weeks of restless nights for Ana and for the investigator to get back with his report, according to which Dev was not having an extra marital affair but he had been consulting a therapist for his stress related health issues. All his business meetings were real and that he had not been straying. As much as the confirmation of the affair being non existent elated Ana, the lack of her focus on Dev and his deteriorating health shocked her and the very crude idea to doubt Dev shamed her. She went home that night and had a long talk with Dev, asked him about his work, the stress at office and many other things. She hugged Dev tight and said that she loved him more than anything in her life and apologised if she had been selfish and overlooked his needs. Ana even suggested that she could take a break from work to help him out. Dev was utterly confused at his wife's strange behaviour, but he welcomed the change. He kissed the top of her head as she wept on his chest. He felt it would be inappropriate if he suggested make up sex as he was not sure if they had a fight and reconciled and also as Ana's ride on the emotional roller coaster was still in progress.

   That night Ana had a peaceful sleep, knowing everything was back to normal. Dev stayed awake wondering what could have prompted this development in his marital life when suddenly his phone buzzed. A Text. He read it twice, smiled and deleted the text and went back to sleep.

"The 5 week vacation was fun. It would have been more fun if you had been there with me.
I miss you, your kiss, your touch, your cooking, Most of all, I miss us, together.
Can't wait to see you tonight."

   Dev had a peaceful sleep, knowing that everything was back to normal.




 

Vis Viva

"Energy is neither created nor destroyed. It changes from one form to another"
                                                                  - Law of Conservation of Energy


The seconds expecting a breakdown at the door was as painful as the bullet lodged in his gut. His breathing was heavy and uneven. He knew there was no escape from here, but the killer in him was half mad at the kind of end his assassin's life was coming to,a bullet from a rookie's gun. He thought he would go in a much grand way, like after a long fight sequence similar to a Tarantino movie or at least after a few rounds of shots fired, using up all the clips he had, the anticipation of a shot, hitting the target, feeling the heat of the gun, sweat in his skin, and finally give up to the bullets that would sieve him. He wanted be gone a legend after an intense gun fight. This, was pathetic. Damn the rookie cop with the unsteady hands. He ruined his "Glorious Exit".

His profile was impressive.More than two dozen hits, all clean with nothing tracing back to him or the ones who wanted the dead, dead. He was the best. He was the unknown and unseen strike that got you out. He was off the grid and it was as if he never existed. That's what he believed until he found the trace and now he was cornered, literally , at some random room in some random floor of some random  building, waiting for his Rain of Bullets. He had not one regret with his life. He was powerful. The scythe that reaped the lives. He knew nothing about the lives of the ones he had slayed and he didn't care for them. Yet with the final grains of his sand clock slipping down, he thought he would feel remorse, for all the lives he had claimed, the tears he was accountable for, the looks of terror, the pleas of mercy, the foul stench of death, and the vacantness that filled their eyes afterwards.

As he heard the hard soles closing around him, he recalled his every kill. From the very first to his recent one. He was proud of some of his work and thought he could have done much better at some others. The money, the life, the comforts that came with the blood, all brought a small grin. He was good at what he did no matter how evil it was. He could hear the voices now. It took them full two minutes to figure out the room he was in. "Good call Sherlock.Was it the blood trail that gave away?", he guffawed. They were taking positions as they closed in on the door. He felt it. He was there, the state at which his victims felt right before he made his kill. Death's cruel hand crushing down with a side of helplessness and a generous serving of fear. But, unlike them, he was not afraid of dying. He knew it would all come to this one day. His heart rate quickened, his body was drenched in his sweat, blood all around him. That damn bullet in his gut.

The door burst open ,a dozen black suits stormed in. All guns pointing at him. At this point, he was so vulnerable that the rookie who shot him can get over with this with an old musket. There was no need for twelve semi automatics pointed at his chest. They were making snide comments about how a "celebrated" assassin like him had ended up huddled in a corner like a stinking coward. He had a few witty comebacks, but the pain had broken the threshold and it was to the point that he was looking forward to the end. He wanted them to get over with it. Yet they kept talking. His consciousness was not slipping but pain kept clawing at his life and the blood didn't stop seeping. At last it happened, the black suits shot him several times as he thought they would as he made a move. A slight motion, that's all it took for his life to come to an end. His glorious life as the master of death. As the shots were fired, finally the thought came to him.

 What if?

It happened so quick he hadn't had the time to catch a breath. He knew he was crying out loud, but didn't know why. He heard strangers around him. There was a women sobbing somewhere around in the vicinity. He felt running water and a soft towel followed. He felt was being handled like a small doll. Suddenly he heard the sobbing women up close. He had finally stopped crying and ever so slightly opened his eyes. A worn out women and a balding man, of gigantic proportions were looking at him. They were laughing and crying at the same time. She mouthed something he couldn't comprehend to. It dawned on him, finally, and this thought came to him.

"Oh its on".

P. S. This is totally inspired. My own words but a borrowed idea.

The Day She Quit..!!

She sat staring at the bright screen and it stared right back at her with nothing. It drove her mad. She walked out of her cell that she shared with 4 other fellows, who were gifted enough not to plow through on the last day of the week. She didn't mind their absence. There were very few souls that inhabited her adjacent cells which was sheltered under a long holding made of thick glass and cheap steel. She identified herself at the first glass door and again at the second metal door to walk to the outer less polished corridor. Her fingers absently traced the cold metal railings of the corridors as she walked to the box in the shaft that sailed her down from the third level. The rough stone walkway led her out of her metal cage that was oddly shaped like a bird. A giant,ugly,steel cage bird.

Everything around her screamed of conformity. The neutral shades may give out an aura that this means business but it clearly shouts to the lot here, "Comply and you shall believe that you are thriving". It reminded her of the colours of the shackles that had clasped her souls. She is one of them. She has been one of them for four long summers and four mildly cool winters. She had the coin, not complaining at that front, but this is not who she is. She is a free spirit. She wondered when she was tamed and it scared her. It scared her a lot.

She walked to the eatery to get something to quench her thirst and settle the the rumblings of her heavy breakfast. Her black stole took the direction of the wind. She tried to curb the garment but failed miserably at the act, so much she let it dance in the air. There was no one around anyway to judge her modesty for she had let her stole fly around. She looked down at her dress. Black with white and brownish green threading all over. Her friends mocked that this dress of hers looked like a thousand crows had shat on it. She didn't like the comment much as this was one of her favourites, but coming to think about it now, it does looks like crow shit. She smiled. Something that hardly came up these days.

As she walked there were less din than the other days of the week. She grasped none. It was all white noise around her. She was able to distinguish them though. A power provider's grunts, a mason's strikes, a loud girl's high pitch laughter, a few distant musical notes, the kitchen noise from that other eatery on her way, the splash of water from the green hose, held by a garden man in green clothes watering green leaves that were there apparently for no good reason. They were supposed to appease the mundanity of the cages, but steel grey and bottle green were never the colours of excitement. She heard all the noise but failed to pay any heed to them. She was going deaf to the life around.

The eatery that served her needs was three steel cages afar. She kept her head bowed. Not in submission but in curiosity. She saw the stones laid on the walkway. As a child, she used to measure her strides so that she did not step on the edges of the stone, something she always did with so much involvement that her head found her forerunner's arse many a times. Yet she did it. In her every walk. In all her journeys. But somehow she had stopped measuring her strides. She wondered why. It was just a queer habit that she had lost with time, like most of the things she enjoyed doing. She thought she would do it now. But the walkway stones were longer and it would look foolish to walk with long strides that even involved a few hops. There were not many around, yet she wouldn't do it. She hated being held back.

Her quencher was a brown effervescing drink that neither quenched her thirst nor settled her stomach. She walked back to her bigger cage, took the box up, then to the corridor and  then to her glass holding and then walked back to her cell after identifying at the two doors. She was a bit nervous to bring the quencher to her cell, as the guards were intolerant to anything edible in there. But her cage was not well guarded that day. May be the safety compliance of her steel cage was laid back on the last day of the week.
She realized her fear had stemmed out of her bent back.
So bent, she was even afraid to look up at anything around her.
So bent she let her life waste away staring at the ground.
So bent she thought her mind was rusting to normality.
So bent she forgot her last free opinion.

 She went back to her staring. Her relentless, pointless staring at the brightness in front of her.

That's when she heard a scream from within.

Broken window in the Red bus

I knew not where I was.
I knew not where to go.
Amidst the crowd of strangers,
I stood alone like a shadow.
Spotted a bus at a distance.
I climbed aboard the red beast.
Nothing around made any sense.
Time seemed to have ceased.
Behind two unknown souls
I found my battered place.
Rusted window and broken glass.
A faded leather solace.
I saw the dusky city scene
disappear behind me.
Gazing through the frosted pane,
streaks of evening colours faded rapidly.
Lady who lost her love
crooned away her distress.
Through the radio waves
to all who lent their ears.


Looking back at today
and all days gone by.
As life snatched away my dreams,
It all seems like a grand lie.
A sudden short drizzle
calmed the mind a little.
Sneakily trying to efface
my mask of sanity away.
"Hold on to it "cried my head.
Alas! My eyes couldn't carry on
It did at the end betray.
Tears gather at the brink of my eye.
Tears of disappointment.
Tears of failure.
Tears of hatred.
Tears of the fallen griever.
The cool evening breeze
stole them all away.
One by one,
drop by drop.
The ones I wanted salvaged
with my mother's hug,
by my father's hand,
through my sister's love,
alongside my friend's laughter.
Yet, all alone I lost my tears
to the suburban air
One by one
drop by drop.
Is this all how life gets to be?
No love near by,
so hard to breathe?

A piercing eye caught my notice.
That of a child wearing a smile.
Like a ray of light in all the darkness.
The smile was pure.
Nothing in the world appeared wrong.
A moment of hope,
A measure of love,
A twinkle of life.
Everything felt light.
A sign of being, that smile gave me
I knew this ain't the end,
I knew I had a shot
At happiness, I will see. :)


                                                                         

JaNe EyRe, A FeW WoRdS

The name says it all. One of the most cherished leading ladies of English Literature. I happened to befriend her recently and as much as I fell in love with the unadulterated charisma that is Edward Fairfax Rochester, I fell for Jane as well.

Quoting the wise words of Rachel Greene, this book is definitely light years ahead of its time(well not the Robot part). Feminism was the part which had captured the mind of the few with whom I happened to discuss this book about. What caught me the most was Jane's honesty.

To let go of the love of your life because it is the right thing to do takes much more than mere mortal courage. Especially to one who has never apprehended the pleasures of love and had just been handed an abundance of it. The greatest power in the world is definitely BATMAN. But when it comes to emotions , Love is Batman and dear Jane walked away from Batman.  It may not matter what the world would think, there was no one to stop them, yet she made her decision not to stay.

That requires more than just courage...!!

You mam, deserve a salute...!!

PaReNtS and PaRaNoiA

I have successfully reached the age at which general paranoia is attributed to lack of matrimonial commitment. At 25, I am exhausted, aimless and getting borderline schiznophrenic, more like the female version of all the antsy characters played by Woody Allen. Solitude makes more sense than company now. Believe me, this is new. In school and college, I was always with a big entourage of friends or fr-enemies or acquaintances. Lately, I seem to quiet despise company and have begun doing most of the things alone by myself. Things I always required a friend for company. Being an introvert who hates change, I assumed this sort of behaviour is beyond logical and normal human nature. But now, I am venturing to places I have feared to go alone. Why? I ask myself and others.

My parents have a theory to explain this. All of this "madness" can be explained by the fact that I am not married. Yes, a co dependent relationship with a bossy, lazy, controlling, narrow minded man is the answer to my paranoia. This is not a generalization about men. The men in my life are pretty okay, but as husbands they tend to be examples for one or more of  the above mentioned traits, to their wives.

I fail to comprehend as to why all problems in an unmarried woman's life immediately points to the lack of a husband. Marriage, according to me, is the the day I boast to the world that I have found love, who would stand BESIDE me and not ABOVE. Such love is very rare to find in a place where mothers breed their sons with extra dosages of "MALE EGO", assuming the general consensus of heterosexuality in my case.

My parent's love choke me and I think I would feel like an ungrateful parasite feeding off of them if in finality, I end up exercising my free will without considering their feelings. As a child with a submissive disposition, I , like many women fall into the snare of arranged marriage and are given the ultimate parental advice. Not about having a joyous and loving life, but to adjust to any difficulties posed at the In-laws place. Yes, that is exactly what marriage is all about.

The most unsettling aspect of this arrangement is that I am uncertain if I would have anything remotely close to love in the marriage that is fixed.

I am a good human being, a good daughter but I may be a terrible wife. This is something my parents fail to see as they perceive all  creatures of the female trait are hard coded to be perfect wives, hetero or otherwise.

The thing is, I am a lazy bum and I am proud about it. Its not exactly an ideal life, but what exactly qualifies for an ideal life. It is pretty objective and my vision is to live the way that makes me happy.There is a catch here as a free female mind is always looked at as an arrogant aka bitchy one, while the same traits in a man make them either despicable hipsters or impeccable gentlemen.

Take a 180 degree spin....

On the other hand,
I hope I am just over thinking things.
I hope everything goes well.
I hope life is not as  screwed up as it appears.
I hope I can mend it if it does screw up.

Hoping for the best.
Amazing part of being a human is you get to hope that things are not always as bad as it seems and to figure out that single ray of extraordinary prospects that you may end up having, in spite of all the pessimism that mounts up around you. In spite of all the things that could go wrong, all the things that could turn bad, the thought that there is a possibility of things could go your way, always pulls you to that extra mile and that extra mile may be the the life changing one.

ThE DeScEnT Of ThE DeCeAsEd

DISCLAIMER : THE FOLLOWING POST MAY BE INSENSITIVE SO WHATEVER.

Death. Something that used to be dark and gloomy. I believed it brought about great deal of misery, for the loss of a loved one could be unimaginable and loss of loved one being the key word. What happens at the death of a not so good person? Some one who was rotten to the very core but pretended to be sweet. Even though everybody saw what kind of a person he/she was, yet never made an  attempt to confront them about their wrong doings merely because they were older, richer and had a tad more power than the confrontee. This is about such a person. Her death neither stirred a great deal of grief or joy among her near and not so dear.

I happened to be there, at her funeral. Well I am technically her relative but our relationship was never cherished. Well she was supposed to be a big part of my childhood, but she simply didn't care. Before I go ahead explaining about the funeral, I would like to recount my previous funeral experience because I do not want to seem insensitive or inexperienced when it came to funerals. I had been to two. My mother's brother and father and they were full on funerals of the countryside. The traditional women-in-huddle "opari", sounds of waterworks all around, men discussing how the departed will be missed, family trying to get a hold of the things happening around. One could easily cut a slice through the grief that lingered around the place. After such grim experiences, this was a.. how can I say it.... weird  experience.

 I was walking towards the house were funeral was held. A few houses away, I could see my destination quiet clearly and there started the weirdness. I heard no "Tharai/thappatai" and I assumed it was too early. I heard no crying and I thought people were tired of crying for a very long time, but it had just been a few hours since she passed.  Mind you, this is not a woman with very few relatives. She had 5 step children, 4 sons of her own and a brigade of grand and great-grand children. All I heard was the noise of conversation. Men having men talk and women sharing women thoughts.

I retreated to the wall on the opposite house to observe the proceeding. Suddenly, the people stirred and looked down the street. A family of four were walking towards the house. A respectfully dressed elderly man, an elderly woman, clearly the man's wife and two other women who were most likely their daughters. I knew the gentleman was the dead woman's step son, to whom she had successfully cliched the role of a step mother. As soon as he appeared at the threshold of the funeral house, his two sisters started their lament almost instantaneously. The timing was so accurate that even trained actors cannot start crying on cue like they did. They scooped their brother in a huge hug and led him in. He was not sad or for that matter he reflected no emotion. This death did not affect him, for he made sure her life didn't affect him in any way.

This routine continued for a while . As new mourners turned up, the sobbing sisters engulfed them in their lament and after a threshold period of 2 minutes, they went about their business. The dead lady's own daughter in law, looked thoroughly annoyed, not at nature for depriving her of a mother in law but the number of people who turned up to pay their respects to the dead, adding to one more fake pleasantry that she had to deliver.

The proceedings were dull, not in a grim or nature of death, but people looked extremely bored. Nagging kids all around urging parents for something more fun than a funeral and that's when the most curious event of my observations of the funeral began.

An elderly woman, whom I learned  to be the cousin of the weeping sisters, came rushing in, crying a high pitched lament which was further encouraged by the sisters in distress. The three got together and started crying and the tricky part was when the sisters reached their threshold 2 minutes but the cousin still continued "oparying". They sat there for another 10 minutes not to seem rude , but the cousin was unstoppable. After a about 15 minutes past their threshold period, they left the cousin to grieve alone, and resumed their usual funeral talk. After another 10 minutes, the cousin  came out, finishing all the verses of the lament and joined the sisters to complain about the frequent power cuts.


     What amazed me the most that day was that a human life had ended. Any form of physical existence of the woman ceased that day but the impact she had was so little that it was near miserable. The state of events of her funeral made me feel sad for the life she had more than her death itself.

MiSoGyNy n MoViE sOnGs

 Not so long ago, the whole lot was buzzing with the Kolaveri craze. As the excitement for Soup Songs slowly receded, it got me to pay a little more attention to the lyrics of the songs. As explained by Dhanush, the man who coined the term or brought it to the notice of a wider audience, it is about love failure. As a member of the women folk, I fail to understand why this concept has been claimed only by men, let alone be claimed, I wonder why they begin to imprecate the beloved damsel they were swooning around all along. Well, there may be many women who may deserve the whip but why generalize it? Calling all women as a curse cast upon the innocent men of the world, lying cheats, sadistic beast and what not. So here, I would like to stand up, not for all the women, but for at least the ones whom these songs of accusations where composed on, for I think they deserve some hearing as well for these songs are mostly unfair.

Pengal endral – Neethane En Ponvasantham – One of the most selfish heroes of the Tamil films, accuses the girl who was an amazing girlfriend, whom he had ditched conveniently for a record 3^rd time for his family and his future. Now seriously, do you guys even use your head before singing such songs?

Venam Machan Venam- OK OK – Well the girl clearly states that she is not in love with the hero and even if she has to fall for someone, what are the qualities she is looking for .Even though the hero does not satisfy a single expectation of hers, he goes on to accuse her of abandoning him and sings praises for his friend, whom he conveniently ditches when the girl walks into the frame in the very next scene. Neat!

Why This Kolaveri Di?- 3- The song that captured the global audience about how a girl has descended from beloved high school crush and soul mate to black hearted “girlu” with a murderous rage because he thought she had ditched him for a life in US. Had he waited a day, he would have known that she threw away not just hers but also her family's dream and had eloped so she could be with him. Ironically he decides to slow things down when she proposes marriage. Why this kolaveri da?

Kadhal En Kaadhal- Myakkam Enna - The song where the hero’s friend urges the hero to hit and kick the girl who ditched him. Yet another song to convey the message that men and their friendship are everlasting and a woman's love is short lived, so choose friendship over love. Funnily the hero chooses the friend’s girlfriend and the girl stays with him in all his highs and lows despite his psychotic phase that drives away all the ones around him. Yeah kick her I say.

Yemma Yemma - 7am Arivu- No matter what, the heroine must reciprocate hero’s love because well he is the hero and he HAS to get the girl, even if she is a genetic engineer and he is a circus performer. Complying with the norms of Tamil films, she eventually does fall in love with him but he cannot wait that long so he starts singing the string of accusations. Yeah right.

Kadal Endral – Goa – The gorgeous girl is head over heels in love with the normal village guy. She sings an absolutely romantic song where there are no subtle hints but direct punch-to-the-stomach words expressing her love. He ignores her proposal as his expectation in a girl is foreign nationality. When he realizes the love for the girl, his lying friend says he had a romantic encounter with her and BAM... women are deadly disease that kill men. Wow, just Wow!

Kadhal Seithal Paavam - Mounam Pesiyathey – This misogynistic snobbish hero who was not even sure which girl was in love with him and was stalking him had to chime that love is a sin and women are deceiving. Good going!

Pombalainga Kadhal – Unnai Ninaithu – Bunch o' 60 year old men complaining about the whole female contingent   because their love left them in the 60's.. where there were so many restrictions for women... when love was considered taboo... Okay. Well the hero, who was back-stabbed by a selfish girl, stands up for the ladies and when the hero is someone like Surya, sorry old men your arguments are null and void!

Of course there are exceptions,

men who blame the world (Ulage Mayam- Devadas),

blame fate (Vaazhve Mayam- Vaazhve Mayam),

matured enough to wish the girl who left him goodluck (Engirunthalum Vaazhga- Nenjil Oor Alayam),
plead the girl not to leave for she has forgotten him due to a medical condition (Kadhal Konden- Moonram Pirai, Pogathey - Deepavali),

simply sulk and reminiscence the lost love (Vellai Pura Onru- Pudhu Kavidhai, Venmathi – Minnale)

The lady mourners play a tone of mild bitterness in their songs

(Satru Munbu- NEP,

 En nanbane- Mangatha,

Evano oruvan- Alaipayuthey,

Malai Neram- Aayirathil Oruvan,

Engey enathu Kavithai – Kandukondein Kandukondein,

Ninaika therintha maname - Aanandha jyothi).

There are a few songs that are not gender specific and plays to blame both men and women (Aambalaikum pombalaikum – Kazhugu)

It’s just that, one of the reason for these songs to find a place in chart busters is because they go on to taint the not just the girl who ditched but the whole lot. Just because your girl ditched you do we all deserve this? Just because you guys, who call yourselves hero, cannot choose the right girl, don't go about blaming all the women.

ThE StRaNgE JoUrNeY.. BeGiNnInG tO ThE sTaRt

"Hey I got "The Call.", I am going to Kolkata on December 29th. Okay catch you later,Bye."
The line went dead before Ajju could realize what the call was about or even who the caller was. She checked her call log to know that it was Peelu.
"What did she mean?", Ajju kept wondering, when her other sane friends started texting her that they had got their call for training from The Giants Software company they had got job offers through campus placements. Ajju was pretty excited initially because being idle for almost 6 months had changed a lot in her. She had realized being jobless at home invites a lot of raised eyebrows, sometimes even the sarcastic eyebrow hook like the The Rock, loads of advices from "Kid, I care about your future" relatives and also from the "I don't care a thing about you, I am here to ridicule your parents to have a loser like you for a child" strangers, neighborhood children who pose questions like "Akka why you always at home?". As if this wasn't humiliating enough there were her social website friends always jumping up with questions like "Have you got your call?" the minute she logs in.. So she was eagerly waiting for her mail or call or any remote signal from the company, like an alien stranded in the Earth waiting for his call from the Mother Ship.
She opened her inbox for the new message to find 1290 new messages."Screw FB for sending updates of every goddamn possible thing any of my friends had done",an irate Ajju thought. She filtered her mail to get the one she sought and there it was. Her mind was full of other thoughts that she hardly understood the letter. She screamed for her parents who were a lot more excited to get her out of the couch and also out of the house. She called, texted, tweeted, pinged and resorted to every medium of communication to convey the news to all the idiots who sympathized her for not having a job. She was on cloud nine, when suddenly the bubble breaker came in the form of Google,"Hey did you check out the offer letter?".
"Duh...of course I did we are going to Kolkata.",laughed Ajju. She had been dreaming about taking the Metro,Tram,Victoria Palace,Eden Gardens and what not.
"ROFL...no we are not going to Kokata,We are going to Helldia, a ridiculously small town for a software company to have its training which also happens to be a Naxal attacking town."
There was this glass crashing sound in Ajju's heard which unfortunately didn't mute her loud swearing.
"Crap.. I had so much plans for a upgraded metro city not for a town",Ajju cried out.
After a lot of research about Helldia she was convinced she was in deep shit.
After days and nights of Service Agreement editing, printing, preparations,packing,shopping,salonizing,NSR registering,Air ticket hunting and hell lot of work that her lazy butt was not used to doing she was finally ready to take the flight to Kolkata with six of her friends.
Goodbyes where the most cruel thing one has to endure. She was trying hard not to cry, yet her mind lost the control of her tears. The emotions were overwhelming and cannot be described with mere words.
Sappani,CR,Papa,Romance,Singer along with Papa's mom prepared the initial journey to catch the flight.
CR had a relative-friend who worked at the airport and it was because of him that their extremely excess baggage where waived off.
After security check they were waiting for their boarding call and started calling every possible soul to tell that they were leaving. Even after a clear sexy announcement of the gate number the group were still confused about which of the two lines in front of Gate No 2  to stand in. Finally they managed to get in the right queue.
As they left the gate Sappani's face fell down looking at the airline bus.
"Enna macha flightnu sollitu,they are taking us in a bus",said a dejected Sappani..
"Dei the bus will take us to the flight da",said Ajju after a good laugh.
As they ascended the flight, they saw the beautiful air hostess welcoming the passengers as they entered.
"Good evening ,Welcome to Indicome Air",greeted the air hostess.
"Good evening,What is your name?",asked Romance.
The air hostess was taken aback by the question yet manged to answer.
"Machi super la..",sniggered Romance.
Sappani,CR and Romance were all talking loud about how easy the journey is going to be and that they weren't scared at all, but when the flight was about to take off they had their eyes shut tightly, gripping each others hands tightly.Ajju was laughing hard at the guys.The flight journey was pretty boring with Romance calling for the air hostess for water tissues and all.
 At around 10.20 they reached Kolkata Airport. They were all pretty excited about how to survive in this place with no knowledge about Bangla or even basics of Hindi.Their only safety net was Papa and her Urdu speaking skills.They managed to find the driver that Ajju's dad had arranged to take them to his office guest house in Alipur. They had asked for a bigger bandwagon,but all the driver guy could get was a Versa which wouldn't even hold their luggage. With great effort they managed to get all their luggage and also Papa, Papa's mum and CR into the car and they drove off.
Sappani,Ajju,Singer and Romance managed with a little Hindi and English and found a taxi. The car ride was scary coz of the fact that they were in a new city,hardly understood what others said, it was 11.30 in the night and they did not know where the place is. The cabbie kept driving circles around New Alipur and finally Romance spotted the Versa standing in front of a Red colour building. The taxi driver demanded twice the cab fare as that's the rule in Kolkata. The lot grudgingly payed 300 rupees and cursed him in Tamil.
Papa and her mom snuggled into the room that was for the girls and Ajju and Singer decided to chat with the guys for sometime They ended up chatting the entire night and in the morning they got ready as soon as possible to reach the airport to get the bus arranged by the company to take them to Helldia. The cold was really biting for they had been used to the hot climate of TN.
They reached the airport to find Salma-Salma their friend who had hopes of getting a train to Kolkata to reduce the expenses but ended up having the most expensive travel through last minute flight booking. They also met their other friends who had wisely taken the morning flight. Ajju was so relieved to see EM, her best friend but not so happy to be pushing her over sized luggage. At that difficult time she felt someone tapping her shoulder.
"Hi,  you here for Helldia Training right, which college are you from?",piped up Stna.
"Half-Moon",murmured Ajju who was panting hard pushing that baggage of EM.
Stna who thought Ajju was being plain bitchy steered Kuttan away from the group.Ajju was thoroughly irritated by EM who was running up and down getting associates names for the bus journey instead of minding her luggage. Finally they got into on of the bus which Stna and Kuttan carefully avoided.The bus journey was really funny given the fact that they were spotting each and every thing on the road.
"Hey look Kolkata cars,Malls,McD poster".
"Haven't you seen that in Chennai you moron".
"Hey look Howrah bridge, that I haven't seen in Chennai".
"This is Howrah Bridge?It looked a lot different in the movies,bigger and better",said Ajju who was really disappointed to see the shrunken bridge.
"Hey not that side ,this side of the road idiot",laughed EM
"Adanna pathen",smiled Ajju.
The journey extended into the bumpy country roads and after 6 hours of torturous bus ride they reached Helldia, which looked more like a very very big factory with many heavy machinery here and there. After another two hours of going around the town because of the driver's exceptional knowledge of roads Ajju spotted a signboard that said Helldia Institute of Technology, the college where their training where apparently held.
They reached the place and were informed that they will be allocated hostels for their stay during training. There were 3 hostels for girls and one for guys. The girls were all really worried about whether they'll get to stay in the same hostel as their friends. Ajju and EM got allocated in the same hostel so did their other friends, but in other rooms. After a abysmal dinner they got ready for another short bus journey to the hostel. Ajju was helped by Tintu who carried her luggage to her room 104. After a while the door burst open and there stood Stna.
"So are we gonna be like roomies?",said Stna sounding disapproving.
"I guess..",fumbled Ajju clearly wanting stay away from this girl whom she thought was a typical Chennai scene party, the very group she hates.
After a few lame conversations she realized actually this girl isn't that bad. They heard some hustle and bustle outside their room. when they came out they saw  many people where shifting their rooms and wondered  why not they swap their rooms also. Ajju was a lot comfortable staying in the ground floor so she suggested Stna swap rooms with EM so she'll be next door to Kuttan. Salma-Salma and Thaj, classmates of Ajju decided to camp in the same room with Ajju. They were chatting and gossiping about stuff they hardly spoke in college.
As they were about to sleep,Ajju thought about the last two days and laughed how a lazy couch potato got her ass working to come all the way to Helldia. She was hoping for a great time ahead.With that positive mental note she decided to sleep. Places do bring people together.

BuGgEd, LiTeRaLlY- 2

The woman at the help desk understood nothing of what Ajju was screaming. There came the lame manager guy Tintu, whom Ajju disliked the most. After a "lot" of Bengali "SH-OSH-WOSH" he led the four towards emergency room. Ajju was relieved that her agony is about to end. Those moments made her feel that she had hit a new level of endurance.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaHHHHH...
"Tintu ji doctor kahan hai?",Kuttan screamed looking at Ajju's tears..
"Abhi ayega Kuttan ji..."
A tall broad man walked into the room. He remotely looked like a professional. Ajju's hope of being relieved hit the rock bottom when she looked at the doctor yawning and sleepwalking towards her.
EM stood by Ajju, who was biting into her fist. Stna and Kuttan explained the situation in both English and Hindi to the doc, but Tintu's magical Bangla skills(or may be a mediocre local slang of the language) did the trick.
The doc now knew that Ajju had pain in her ear.
He switched on the little torch he had and checked her ear.
"The other one", said Ajju and turned to show her left ear.
The doctor was peering in for sometime and said," Its just Ear wax, Kuch nahi hai".
An irate Ajju screamed,"Well kuch nahi hai wouldn't be moving inside my ear da goiyala".
But the doctor was convinced that there was nothing wrong with Ajju's ear and she is just creating a scene.
"Anyways why don't you clean her ear so that we are sure nothing is actually wrong",suggested Kuttan.
The doctor blabbered stuff in Bengali which later Tintu translated that, there is no need for any cleaning and Ajju is perfect to go. More than the pain the doctor irritated Ajju.
Stna and Kuttan where hellbent in cleaning Ajju's ear so the doctor asked her to lie down on the stretcher-bed kinda thing in the room and reluctantly went to get the syringe.Stna and Kuttan went to the pharmacy near by to get the ear drops the giant doctor guy had prescribed.
Ajju thought ,"I am so not gonna lay down there", but a second later she perched on the bed giving in to the thing in her ear.
Then there was a strange light that lit up the room. It was like the scenes in movies where the heroine walks near by the hero, everything looked beautiful, even the disease carrying bed felt like a king size jumbo feather mattress.
A nurse was there to check on some reports, and saw Ajju crying. She enquired what was wrong. Though she knew only Bengali she was able to understand Ajju's pain. She checked in her ear and confirmed that there was something in Ajju's ear.
"Ha I told ya...", said Ajju
EM who had interpreted was the nurse's gestures said,"Just hold your breath and shut up, the nurse says that might bring out the buggy".
"Yeah may be I will die in the process so the bug will have a safe exit, are you out of your mind? What if that thing goes into my mouth? I'd choke to death".
"No you wont", said EM,trying to calm down Ajju.
"Oh yeah...that's so assuring",said Ajju, but she realized at least the nurse believes that she is not lying about the bug may be give her method a try. She held her breath and shut her mouth tight, but the pain was unbearable. She held EM's hand so tight that she started screaming in pain.
The nurse quickly poured few drops of water into her ear.
Suddenly Ajju felt tickly moving from inside to outside of  her ear.It worked....!!!!!!
The buggy was crawling out. In a matter of seconds Mr.Bug was ramp walking out of her ear. The nurse flicked it to the floor and was examining Ajju who sprung up immediately smiling.She thanked her guardian angel though the nurse understood nothing.
"It's gone..poye pochu",smiled Ajju.
At the same time Stna and Kuttan came into the room panting.
"Shoot the pharmacist is out",exhaled Kuttan.
"So is the bug",laughed EM.
"Enga anda doctor... stupid fellow Kuch nahi Kuch nahi nu sonnan. Ask him to look at this.Kuch Kuch Hota Hai",shouted Ajju whose abysmal Hindi made the rest laugh out.
Stna,EM and Kuttan gave the doctor a piece of their minds for his exceptional examining skills.
The four returned back in the same ambulance with Ajju explaining in detail bout the pain she had just endured.
It was 6.30 in the morning by then and a tender coconut vendor had set up his vehicle near the hostel. After thanking Tintu ji(this time even Ajju joined in) and decided to take a refreshing drink.
"Hey we haven't brushed... Never mind...",said Stna.
After having 2 coconuts each they decided to hit the bed.Stna and Kuttan where so lazy to climb up to their room they decided to sleep in the two beds of EM and Ajju. After taking precautionary measures like stuffing their ears with balls of cotton, the four laid down.
"Man.. a few months back did you think you would be helping out a complete stranger whom you thought was a snob,in the middle of nowhere,at the break of dawn?", asked Ajju to Stna and Kuttan.
"Nah....",they smiled.
"I cant believe we are actually having many wonderful memories in Helldia",piped up Stna.
"Wonderful? Really?",snared Ajju.
"Hey what if the buggy had nested in your ear?",asked Kuttan. The very thought scared Ajju and she started hitting Kuttan with her pillow.
They all laughed away to sleep and Ajju looked up and whispered "Thank you guys."
"Yeah just shut up",said Kuttan,EM and Stna, in unison.
This surely was one hell of an experience thought Ajju .Instantly a smile concaved, sighing she went to sleep.

BuGgEd, LiTeRaLlY

She walked down the aisle clad in dark red colour silk saree and in ruby embedded golden jewellery that synced perfectly with her attire.
A special wedding glow lit up her cute round face.
She wanted to catch a glimpse of the groom waiting for her at the altar(manamedai if you want)
Just as she was about to lift her head to look up
Aaaaahhhhhhh....
What the.....?
A searing shot of pain hit her in the ear and she fell down
She walked the same path once again and tried to look at the groom
AAAaaaaaaaahhhhh....
Son of a .....
More pain this time.
She gathered all her strength to look at her man but,
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaHHHHHHHHHHHH....
Final voice of pain.
Ajju woke up screaming.
She shook her head and gropped for her mobile, it said "Its 5.03 in the morning don't you have a life?"
She was sure something was in her ear and the worst part was it was moving. She let a ear bud sneak into her ear to check out whats wrong. It was even more painful so she gave up any self attempts and thought of waking up EM slepping beside her.
"Oye...wake up",Ajju called.
"What now?. You know am not a morning person. Why bother to wake me up?",blabbered EM in her sleep.
"Listen,there is something inside my ear and its paining like hell. I need your help lady.Please",pleaded Ajju.
"What? Your ear?",exclaimed a wide awake EM."Lemme check it out.Hmmmmmm, I see something black there. What is that?".
"Oh I forgot to get is profile data when it entered my ear, NOW DO SOMETHING",screamed Ajju.
EM was clueless. She always had some idea in her head but Ajju's screaming and pushing froze her brain.
"Hey Kuttan has tweezers may be we can get it from her and pull it out",suggested EM.
Ajju was hesitant initially because of a fallout with Stna, Kuttan's roomie the previus day over a silly issue.Her hesitation was kicked outta her conscience in 10 secs as the pain was unbearble.
EM dialed Kuttan's no, and gave a blank look.
"Sorry yar balance out"
"FOR THE LOVE O' GOD, call from my mobile", bellowed Ajju
"Hello Kutta...Hellloooo,Helllllllllllllooooo"
"Wha....wha...what cha want n dhe mornig?", said Kutta,obviously sleep talking.
"Hey can I borrow your tweezers? Can you bring it to my room? Like right now?" said EM.
"You wanna trim your eyebrows in the middle of the dawn? Are you frickin crazy?",screamed Kuttan who was highly disturbed to have woken to something as silly as a tweezer.
"Ha Ha Ha.... No No its not for me.Hey come on I had a threading just yesterday yar. Why would I be needing it?" laughed EM.
"Big picture people. Crying in pain", an irritated Ajju roared.
EM explained the situation to Kuttan and with in a matter of few seconds Kuttan came down with her mani-pedi set. EM extracted the tweezers and tried to pull out whatever that was inside Ajju's ear.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH
"Do not show your surgical skills on my ear please" cried Ajju.
"This a'int working. We gotta get some help.Wait Stna has the Hostel Manager's number.We can get some help from him.",suggested Kuttan and ran upstairs  to her room
Ajju's sarcastic mind was wondering what sort of help would that lame guy do?
Yet the-thing-inside-her-ear kept her from thinking anymore. It just let her Voice cords produce some unusual noises of pain now and then.
After about 10 minutes,Ajju's door flung open there stood Stna and Kuttan in their extremely ridiculous night outfits. Stna checked on Ajju, showing no signs of the differences they had the previous evening. She saw that whatever she,EM or Kuttan was doing was not helping Ajju and dialed the Manager guy's number to bring in an ambulance.
Ajju went to the entrance of the hostel waiting for the ambulance which had gone to drop off water cans at the center in Helldia, a remote town-village where they all attended their training for one of the big software giants.
She kept ranting with pain. Kuttan and EM managed to slip into a track suit while Stna came out in formal outfit. Inspite of the pain Ajju couldn't help but laugh at Stna.
"I didnt want to soil another dress so am wearing what I wore yesterday", defended Stna
"Babe,Whatever.." ,laughed Ajju and then of course started to cry with pain.Suddenly she remembered that she had forgotten her wallet and,"EM, my wallet is on my table could you...".
"Just shut up", cut short Kuttan.
The ambulance arrived and the four started a 15 min journey to the hospital. The pain was really too much for Ajju so she started to cry harder and louder.
"Anna konjam seekrama ponga please", cried out Kuttan.
Stna gave her characteristic look of sarcasm at a clueless Kuttan who was looking from EM to Ajju,for some help  to decipher what Stna's look actually meant.
"Tamil? Really?",piped up EM.
"Oh shoot, Bhaiya jaldhi jayiye,please", said Kuttan to an exasperated look from Stna
They reached the hospital and enquired in English at the helpdesk for the duty doctor
"Bangla Bangla....", replied the lady at the counter in an lazy tone
"Bangla ila di idu hospital,mariyadhaiya andha doctor ah kupudu",screamed Ajju
To be continued.......

ShUt Up RoOkIE

After almost repairing my Backspace Key, am still confused as to what I should write about in my first post. Not that it matters to anyone but I wanted my first post to be a little special.
  May be I start about my interests, hmmmm nah...... What about my life... no way, its messed up in real why enumerate in sentences. Hmm... may be the world that is, well, like, yeah the world is blah blah blah... same old trash.
After hours and hours of streaming for some clue my brain hit the idle state. No thoughts dared to disturb it. My comfortable couch pampered to me hit logout, yet the crappy writer in me urged to litter blogger with another peice of trash.
So am here littering absolutely nothing. As I reread the lines above I realized I had used so many lame software lingo words. The one thing I had had feared , the one thing I despised above all is finally happening to me. I am turning into this Software Professional, who hates the job, yet sticks to it for its perks and security. Not that a modified vocabulary would mean am a techie, its just my attitude to shift the balance favourable towards a secured job than chasing my dream.
I have been hitting the snooze on my dream so much, that I am looking into the possibility of certain things happening even in my dream, I mean I am reasoning to my fantasy-generating-part-of- brain(whatever that is) when it paints out a beautiful imagination of me in some amazing scenario, whether that is actually possible or whether such a thing would happen to me?
Isn't dreaming or imagining something should be an uncut version of your hearts passion? This was so simple when I was unemployed. I had a whole horizon of possibilities. I could have become anything. Yet am here, hating. I wouldn't blame anyone for the place that I am here in my life. I had a choice, to materialize my dream or go with the herd. I chose the herd, so I shall SHUT UP... :)