Chippy

I cannot give a very clear account of Chippy's early life. All that I am in a position to say is that he was born in London, spent several months of his puppyhood in Scotland, and then came out to India with a Major and spent a very happy summer in a hill station. He might well have stayed with the Major, seen something of Peshawar, Quetta, and Delhi, and returned home with that good man, but for a silly little Pekingese. It was the pet of the Major's wife, and Chippy did not like him. One day when no one was about, Chippy forces the puny fellow to realize what he thought of him for living on a lady's lap and eating special biscuits; but the little fellow lost his life in the process. Honestly, Chippy did not intend to kill him; he only wanted to give him a good shake—a thing that could not have killed a mouse. No one was more surprised than Chippy when the little fellow fell down and did not move. The Major's wife became hysterical, and the Major, a devoted husband, easily concluded that Chippy had rabies. He decided to shoot him through the brain next morning. At this stage an Indian friend of the Major, who did not believe in rabies, offered to take away Chippy. Chippy stayed with this gentleman for some time and then drifted on to Mysore, with the Major's friend's brother, Swami. And no dog could have wished for a better master.

Swami and Chippy shared the same room in the house. Swami and Chippy always went out together. Chippy was almost a member of the Champion Tennis Club. Every evening he went there with his master, waited till his master settled down to a good set, and then quietly slipped out and explored all the lanes nearby. There were gangs of brown dogs and black dogs of uncertain colours, lounging in every square and crossing, challenging all newcomers. Chippy bit and was bitten, tore and was torn, before he could establish his right to wander where he liked. There was nothing very special to attract him to that part of the town; all that he wanted was a place to wander about while his master was playing. The game was, perhaps, dull to watch. One was not allowed to chase the ball and retrieve it. And why should these street-loafers question a decent dog's movements? Chippy had to shed several mouthfuls of blood and before he could gain citizenship in those lanes.

After tennis Swami usually attended some lecture or debate n the College. Chippy never missed a single meeting. He climbed the gallery in the lecture hall, took a seat beside Swami, and never stirred till the vote the thanks was proposed. After the meeting, Chippy went home, had his plateful of bone and rice, and went out for an hour or two to meet his old friends and sweet-hearts. He returned at night, slept under his master's cot, and woke him up early in the morning by his cold nose to the sleeper's cheek.

On the whole Chippy led a very happy and contented life till one day Swami brought into the house another dog. Chippy would not have objected o another dog as such, but what he objected was that this dog was short.

It could not be said that Chippy was of an ungenerous disposition, but he hated short dogs. One might notice a hint of this prejudice very early in the Pekingese affair. It was Chippy's habit, whenever he was out, to knock down and scratch and bite all the short dogs that he met on the way. And now he was to have a fellow standing on the height of a two-month-old puppy, pitch dark in colour, and with a long loose tail, as a companion at home! Entering the hall one afternoon, Chippy saw the newcomer standing between his master's legs, and dashed forward with a growl. The newcomer would have gone the way of the Pekingese but for a timely kick from Swami, which sent Chippy rolling in the opposite direction. Chippy picked himself up and went out. He lapped a little water from under the garden tap, dug up his bone from the jasmine bed, went to the shady spot behind the garage, and lay down. Rolling the bone between his jaws, he reflected on the latest developments at home. One was evidently not permitted to scare off the newcomer. At this point, his master's voice reached him, calling, "Chippy! Chippy!" Chippy rose and went bounding towards him. He slackened his pace when he saw the short cur standing beside Master, held by a chain.

"Come on, Chippy, come here," cajoled Swami. Chippy went forward to him, meekly expressing as best as he could that he realized that he ought not to have gone at a dog standing between his master's legs, as if it were a street meeting. Master accepted the apology, stroked his coat, and held him close to the newcomer, which was squirming at the end of the chain. What a dreadful position! Master was insistent and went on saying, "Now be friends, come on, now you are a good boy", and so on and so forth; and Chippy actually had to wag his tail and give a nod.

In a short time the newcomer made himself quite at home. He invaded every favourite place of Chippy's in the house—he came and lounged under the sofa in the hall, sat at Master's feet in the room, stuck to Chippy's side during the mealtime, and even slept under Master's cot at night. There was no getting away from him. Chippy bore his company for some time and then gradually ceased to go into the house. He spent his tine, when he was at home, in the shady spot behind the garage. Let the short cur gambol and strut in the house as much as he liked, but he was not going to have Chippy's company. The only consoling feature in the whole business was that Chippy still retained the honour of going out with the master, because the other was too puny to trot beside Masters bicycle.

The puny fellow had the impudence one day to sidle up to Chippy, more or less hinting round the house. Since no one was about, Chippy frowned and bit him a little. That ought to make the dwarf understand that he was presumptuous. This no doubt taught the little fellow his place, but he had the meanness, when Master was there, to behave as if Chippy and he were the thickest of friends in the world. In such a situation, Chippy could not very well bare his teeth and growl. So that when the shirt fellow played with his ears or teased his tail, Chippy merely turned away his head and tried to think of other things; or if its attentions became too insistent, Chippy rose and left the place.

Almost a fortnight after the arrival of the newcomer, one afternoon, Chippy lay chewing his bone in the shady spot behind the garage, when he was startled out of his wits to see the newcomer standing before him. The newcomer had not discovered the place till now, and now even this was invaded. Chippy stood up in mingled anger and despair. He would have had a fine excuse for choking the other if only he had tried to sidle up and make friends. But the newcomer, exhibiting a profound sense of time and place, looked at Chippy only for a moment, went past him in a business-like manner, lay down a few yards from him, and closed his eyes, Chippy was baffled! He could not chastise the other for just coming there. His last refuge was gone.

Chippy rose and trotted away from the house. He stopped just for a moment for a plunge in the stagnant water before the police-station.

He wandered about the town, without any aim or plan till nightfall, and then went in search of a place where he could get some food and shelter. He went to the market to try his luck there. But urchins flung stones at him, and there were the old dogs of the place who followed him, growling and grumbling, wherever he went. It was all most annoying. He left the market by the western gate, and stayed into the crazy lane behind it. This lane is a nest of ea and liquor shops, from which gramophones shriek into the night; the clatter of mincing meat on frying pans keeps the air lively. The lane has no electric lights, but gets a chequered illumination from the blinding petrol lamps hung inside the shops, with their patrons seated on iron chairs and packing cases. This part of the town is unknown to the average citizen of Mysore, but Chippy was drawn there by the smell of chops sizzling on stoves.

He stopped at the first shop. Somebody threw him a delicious bit of curry puff—and more came. The feast went on all night. People were generous to a fault here. There were of course dozens of other dogs, but there was no trouble since the territory did not belong to any gang in particular.

Chippy found everything so satisfactory that he decided to spend the rest of his life here—far away from the short cur. In about a week he had become the favourite of the place.

The glamour, however, lasted only for a week. Before the end of another week he had lost his appetite. He never touched the chops thrown at him. He really preferred to go without food. He hungered now for his master's company.

One morning Swami was solving a tough problem in mathematics when he felt a cold touch on his feet. He looked under the table and shrieked: "Rascal, where have you been all these days?" Chippy curved his hind half, tucked in his tail, and stood before him with bowed head. He had lost his white colour; his coat had acquired the colour of road dust, with patches of tea stains here and there. Someone had removed his thick leather collar: he was looking perfectly nude without it.

Swami dragged him out and turned the garden tap on him. Rubbing a piece of soap on his back, Swami informed him: "I am sure you will be miserable to here this: your little friend is gone. It seems he had been stolen and sold to us. His original owners traced him here and took him away yesterday. ... Do not worry: I'll get you another companion soon."

R. K. Narayan

Read a fellow blogger, Ashraf.

Those shiny, colored wings.

I ran chasing my dreams,

like butterflies they flew

those shiny, colored wings

I stepped in puddles,

bruised my knee.

Picked myself up

for those shiny, colored wings

The closer i got, 

the farthest it was.

still chased it in the sun,

those shiny, colored wings

Brought me to the cliff

and disappeared in the mist

too far had I run

for those shiny, colored wings

Some called me crazy, some

called me fool,

its okie if I am crazy,

those shiny, colored wings

I stood at the corner of the world

who said, its round ?

Couldn't go ahead, 

nor could I turn.

for those shiny, colored wings.

No one gets his butterfly,

its just a hoax, a dream, 

it never comes true

those shiny, colored wings

are HIS, the funny one

who watches everyone.

A failed marriage, a failed career,

a crippled body, dim eyes, 

are all a bunch of jokes, to keep

him entertained,

those shiny, colored wings.

   

Being friends with star.

Be silly in life.

Smile and laugh all you can,

play with mud, soil your clothes,

kick the empty can

and see it roll down the lane,

All that is past might never come back again.

One lazy night, I walked out to the balcony with a mug of  sweet warm chocolate and looked out to the street. The old light bulb hanging on the post was lighting up one of the biggest social gatherings of  the bug world. The tacky bug dresses, and the chaos gave away the idea of a wedding.

Our stray pet was lying lazily on the road, with its head buried under its forelimbs. Not, a worry in life.

"Jackie", I called its name. Full of life it got up wagging its tail, shaking its head and softly tapping its feet on the ground in quick successions, asking me to come and play. Poor lonely soul, I thought.

I smiled and hurled a biscuit in its direction, it leapt where the biscuit scattered into a million pieces, head bend down and tail still wagging of the affection and joy of recognition, it collected the broken pieces.

I looked up in the sky, and was reminded of my favorite star. I could still locate it. Small, yet distinct, clustered among many big and smaller ones, it was recognizable, it was different, 'coz every time it would twinkle it would bring about a smile on me.

There was a time we two used to be great friends, she would stand outside my balcony hanging in the jaded sky, waiting for me, and I would wait for the whole day for the sun to come down, hoping to see her again, and to talk to her and tell her all that happened in the day, especially the funny incidents, 'coz i loved it when she laughed and twinkled in the night.

I remember drawing the curtains, and coming out in the balcony, and the first twinkle of the night that reflected of her, was enough to kill any strange feeling that could have crept over the day.

Her welcoming twinkling smile was so addictive, that it used to pause the flow of time and I would find myself moving in stagnancy.

A woman can make you feel special, and she can make you feel ordinary. Either ways the power rests with her. 

I would share the happenings of the day, and she would share hers, I would smile and laugh, and she would twinkle, blush and shy away.

Clustered among other stars she looked like a fairy, dressed in white shining gown and the warm bright aura that spread around her. I loved talking to her, and so would often find ways to be with her, strange, funny, childish ways. I grew found of her, and I did not even realize.

She grew into someone unnaturally close and loved.

And I never cared when people called me names, and told me that I was crazy.

Well, I couldn't blame them, they had no idea of how beautiful it was, how warm and beautiful shades of yellow were. They had not known how heavenly it had grown.

One night, I came out in the balcony, excited and happy to tell her how much I missed her during the day, but to my disappointment, found a cloud hanging in between, covering her. I waited for the whole night, hoping some wind would carry this cloud off, and take it where it came from.

But it so happened that wind didn't blow and the cloud stayed there for a few more nights to come.

Disappointed I waited, and the stories accumulated, and I missed the twinkle, I missed the smile.

One night, the wind finally blew, and I rushed out to the balcony, to wave my angel fairy, to wave my star.

She saw me, and twinkled again, the brightest one I had seen. Happy and joyed, a tear slipped my eye and

I waved back smiling and crying in joy, the stories that had accumulated inside pushed the tears out and filled  my throat, so i couldn't say a word, just stood there waving and crying happily.

She looked around her, to show her friends, what she had. But, to her surprise, she found them twinkling too, she had never cared to observe that till that night, and holding her esteem she couldn't ask whom the rest twinkled at.

Her happiness and joy evaporated in a moments notice, she felt ordinary of her own thought. The twinkle disappeared and so did the smile, she seemed lost in the sky.

This made me restless, yet I couldn't ask, she was miles away, I could travel, but she was still very far.

Next night, and for nights to come, I would come out in the balcony to find her, but the twinkle was reduced to greetings and the distance had increased infinitely. Both her and me, were sad, it killed us in certain ways, coz I had only one favorite star and for her I was priceless.

But its life, its strangely short and way too long, we learn to let go, we kill some part of our's everyday, and learn to live without it, its never easy, yet we learn that with time.

So we both lost something, I always felt I had lost something more significant.

Life is strange, it doesn't let you live in peace.

There are constant tides in this ocean, small ones and big ones, while the big ones are easier to handle, coz they settle down, the small ones create the ripple effect, which shake your very existence and like ripples they take time to settle down.

I walked back into my room, the chocolate had lost its warmth, wouldn't have found it sweet either, the ripples had still to settle, it hurts a 'lil lesser now, or may be I was getting used to it, yet it still hurt.

                                                                                                                                                                  (BROWNIE.) 

Just realised

I must learn to love the fool in me, the one who feels too much, talks too much, takes too many chances, wins sometimes and loses often, lacks self-control, loves and hates, hurts and gets hurt, promises and breaks promises, laughs and cries.

And so I am sad, but not brave enough to go with the thought...
read something interesting..

 

                          "Before You Kill Yourself" 

                                             By Renee T. Lucero (Reader's Digest -- June 1985).

You've decided to do it. Life is impossible. Suicide is your way out.

Fine -- but before you kill yourself, there are things you should know. I am a psychiatric nurse, and I see the results of suicide -- when it works and, more often, when it doesn't. Consider, before you act, these facts:

Suicide is usually not successful. You think you know ways to guarantee it? Ask the 25-year-old who tried to electrocute himself. He lived. But both his arms are gone.

What about jumping? Ask John. He used to be intelligent with an engaging sense of humor. That was before he leaped from a building. Now he's brain-damaged and will always need care. He staggers and has seizures. He lives in a fog. Worst of all, he knows he used to be normal.

What about pills? Ask the 12-year-old with extensive liver damage from an overdose. Have you ever seen anyone die of liver damage? You turn yellow. It's a hard way to go.

What about a gun? Ask the 24-year-old who shot himself in the head. Now he drags one leg, has a useless arm and has no vision or hearing on one side. He lived through his "foolproof" suicide. You might too.

Who will clean your blood off the carpet or scrape your brains from the ceiling? Commercial cleaning crews may refuse that job -- but someone has to do it.

Who will have to cut you down from where you hanged yourself or identify your bloated body after you've drowned? Your mother? Your wife? Your son?

The carefully worded "loving" suicide note is no help. Those who loved you will never completely recover. They'll feel regret and an unending pain.

Suicide is contagious. Look around at your family. Look closely at that 4-year-old playing with his cars on the rug. Kill yourself tonight and he may do it 10 years from now.

You do have other choices. There are people who can help you through this crisis. Call a hotline. Call a friend. Call your minister or priest. Call a doctor or the hospital. Call the police.

They will tell you that there's hope. Maybe you'll find it in the mail tomorrow. Or in a phone call this weekend. But what you're seeking could be just a minute, a day or a month away.

You say you still don't want to be stopped? Still want to do it? Then I may see you in a psychiatric ward later. And we'll work with whatever you have left. 

Remembering the hero...

When we hear the word ‘super heroes’, the first picture that floats our imagination is of lean, muscular humans with weird yet surprisingly acceptable dress codes and an appearance which both compliments and enhances their brave character.

As a kid I , like many other kids used to worship this special gene of men and paid my allegiance by collecting comic books, which entailed stories of their heroic deeds, their larger than life, superhuman abilities which no law of physics could restrict.

Collecting theses Religious texts and scriptures was no child’s play, often the journey of dreaming to own one and making this dream a reality involved the process of completing, what my parents referred to, as daily chores, and responsibilities and the less painful and yet highly rewarding blackmail at the supper table.

After the scriptures were read from page to page, and repeated over innumerable times, the act of embodying the lead character by stuffing cushions and pillows into the shirt which almost every time made up for the lack of muscles in my lean and lanky frame, and trying to dress weird enough to pose like a superhuman was a ritual. Though I must admit that matching the dress code was a skill I still had to master.

A strange incident once happened that left imprints on my early age mind which propelled the process of maturity many a folds, or perhaps I should say that It left me careful and feared for good.

And now when I look back I find that there is a fine line that distinguishes the maturity that comes out of experience and fear that roots itself deep inside the human heart.

Monsoons were over in Kerala, the lagoon overlooking the cross gabled house hosting the 4^th generation of childhood was full of pure musical water which sparkled and reflected the dancing rays as they fell on it.

I had just finished reading the series 7 of the dark night for the n+1 no. of time and the 2 cushions which my grandfather used to rest his hands on the easy chair had already made their way into my shirt, adding bulk and weight to the biceps which according to my mother had suddenly overgrown after the glass of milk which I was made to drink, to buy some time to play outside.

Wearing the attitude and the face which injected shiver and fear into the bad men, accompanied by the stray puppy as my sidekick who had recently become a family member after the approval of my grandfather, a process which involved a long yet, rewarding session of begging and crying on my part, I stepped out of the house.

My grandfather, who was shuffling pages on the Malayalam newspaper sitting under the porch, was instructed by my grandmother to supervise and to restrict my movements, if needed.

My eyes rolled in the sockets, analyzing and searching for opportunities to kill evil and to help the needy, but with my grandfather surveying the scene, making use of the power that was stuffed in the sleeves of my shirt was no easy task, especially with his eyes peeping from the top of the thick reading glasses which rested on his wrinkled nose.

Yet, I almost helped an ant carry a leaf. Which was when kept on the ground, ran in the opposite direction. I reassured myself saying that perhaps it was an evil ant trying to steal off the small ants which were gathering for winters.

The puppy was busy sniffing leaves and tiny wild flowers which grew making way off the cracks and creek in the stones which probably had never changed positions in their entire life.

Disgusted and bored I looked around, and found that grandfather had disappeared from the scene, probably called in by grandmother for help.

My eyes took me to the puppy, which was still busy sniffing grass and pebbles. Something evil came in my mind, and with a flash my mind had made arrangements to make the ongoing play more exciting.

In quick steps I walked towards the puppy and picked it up.  The poor, innocent creature which trusted me, came in my hands lovingly licking my fingers and making the same soft growling sound which had melted my grandfather, completely unaware of what was coming next.

It was happening so fast, that I do not even remember walking towards the shore of the lagoon, with all the strength in my evil arms stealth in my eyes I tossed it in the flowing water.

A splash was seen and just like that, I had made someone miserable for some pity fun and excitement.

Completely dumb struck, and trying to figure out what I had just done I stood there, helpless and guilt ridden while the poor creature was struggling to keep itself above water, panting and trying his best to move the water which had already started eating him alive, the calm of the place had disappeared, giving way to howling, while I was still unsure of what I had just done.

I closed my eyes, and covered my ears with my palms; I was totally unable to witness the torture in which I had put the poor, innocent puppy.

It was then, that my grandfather appeared out of thin air, I felt his mundu  brush my shirt, never had I seen him in such quick pace. 

He ran into the water, and held the puppy.

Within seconds the accident was averted.

I was in tears.

Holding the puppy in his arms he came to me and assured me that everything was alright.

The sun behind him, filled his aura, and I had just realized how big he was, while he stood in front of me.

He bend down, looked into my eyes and smiled, and perhaps it was the first time, I had seen a super hero who did not need a dress code or bulky muscular arms to supplement his bravery.


He gave the puppy into my arms, which was still scared, unsure and digesting the evil in me. I looked at him and then at the puppy which was shaking and trembling with fear and cold. I ran to my room and wraped it in a towel.

Few days later, unable to keep it any longer on my chest, I told him the whole story and wept, he held me in my arms and asked me to promise him to not to hurt any animal on purpose.

Its impossible to say no to your hero, cause they rarely ask for anything, and when they do, they are too tough to refuse.

The puppy stayed with my grandfather at his place, as a sidekick, as a friend, as someone whom I would remember, coz it introduced my super hero for me.        

  

a little tipsy sometimes...

A little tipsy sometimes…

I recently came across a blog in which the author had narrated an incident where he attempted an exam while being drunk . As I read it, I was reminded of a pretty similar incident which happened sometime back during my engineering days.

Half of my stories in the blog have a mention of booze in them , and if you have read them , it must have given you an impression about me that I am a drunkard .

Well , to be honest , I am not . My booze intake was ‘nothing’ compared to other members of our hostel gang . Its just that after rounds of shots , while most of them used to go to bed, I used to go around doing silly things . 

I don’t drink regularly , in fact I prefer to stay away from it on most occasions , that being said I would also like to add that , there goes no celebration without it  and being a little tipsy just keeps your ‘spirits’ ‘high!!’

“That’s it !! I can’t .” I said ramming the text on the table “I have given up .”.

It was 11 in the morning , still an hour an half to go for the university exam , and like most occasions , it was still Greek and Latin for me in the texts .

“Dude ….study the last chapter…its pretty easy “ , said Pramod . L , keeping his eyes deep in to the text and shuffling pages like a robot .

Pramod . L and me are friends , and apart from the first name , we do not have much in common , but we have helped each other a lot during the exams , in fact it wouldn’t be wrong to say that much of the ‘manuscripts’ written by us during the exams were pretty similar , actually they can be said to be Photocopies with different handwritings !!

“No dude.. i can’t make it “, I said like a wounded soldier .

 Well , battle against the university is no less than an actual battle , exception being the weak bodied , thin and half dead looking geeks and bookworms find it much easier to sustain the three hours , than the gym hitting and athletic bodied guys like us .

And the irony is that , nobody finds the above fact ironical .

Pramod . L or ‘ L ‘ as I call him , was still shuffling pages , I looked outside through the balcony overlooking the lush green college round , the weather was beautiful , perfect for a picnic , or a game of cricket .

I wonder why the weather gets on its bloom every time we have exams , as if there aren’t other distractions like the new season of some t.v series that someone downloaded , or a movie that had been seen hundred’s of times , yet it appeared totally interesting while standing on the door , hooked to the scene, promising oneself that studies would be resumed right after he scene gets over  , or the new video game that some computer geek downloaded with the cheat codes . Some novel that someone pulled outside from the junk with a handful of days left for the exam , cricket series  basketball seasons kicking on ESPN , new issue of Maxim ect  .

I brought my eyes back to ‘L’, he was struggling , never in my life had I seen him so sincere , I realized that now then  I had given up too , he didn’t stand a chance in the exam , I felt sad for him and if it was in my powers to give marks , I would have , to everyone , including the geeks ( they are people too !!) .

“Lets go to Mayuri” I said to him , he looked at me and smiled , “ you are crazy “ he said .

Though he might have rejected the idea in its first go , but I knew he was still thinking about it and it was pretty visible by the smile that was floating on is face .

I knew , if I could push him a little he would fall of the edge and he would drive us to the nearest bar (Mayuri) .

I closed his book , “lets go, we have an hour and twenty minutes to go … one quarter .. that it … we shall share it , vodka , no rum , no whiskey “ , I placed my offer .

“No dude , you are crazy “ he replied , I could feel the difference in the tone , he was nearing the edge .

“One quarter Fuel “, he said to the waiter , and something in the vernacular , I guessed he was asking him to hurry up .

The waiter brought the bottle , it was opened in a crash , pegs were made and in no time , it was over , we didn’t talk much over the first bottle , he was still keeping his eyes on the texts . I looked at him , as the first bottle finished , he looked at me . There wasn't much to say , it was all understood , a new bottle was ordered .

“One more quarter “, he said to the waiter . As he poured the 2^nd peg from the new bottle for himself , the ‘sacred text’ had found itself a place on the neighboring table . 

Ten minutes later , he was cursing me for bring him there , while I was assuring him that next time it would be easier and that we would prepare for it properly.

 “Whatever “ he said , getting up from the chair .

It was time to attend the exam , we went to the loo , relieved our self , splashed our faces with water ,  stuffed 3-4 Center-fresh in our mouth to camouflage any smell what so ever , and drove back to the college .

I did not remember the journey , nor did he ( I asked him later ! ) .

We ran towards the exam hall , we were late by a couple of minutes , but it was no big deal . Before crashing inside the hall , I instructed him not to open his mouth , and to keep his cool in the class .

The examiner was still distributing paper , he looked at us and then went back to paper distribution , we went straight to the seats and waited for him to come and give us the papers . The junior girl sitting  besides me , looked at me , I gave her a serious and cold look , held my breath for a couple of moments till it was impossible to hold onto any longer . I suspected she had smelled the vodka , I didn’t want to add more to her suspicion .

There is this peculiar thing about our college , there are two branches I particularly wish to talk about .

The Mechanical and the Biotech , the former one is only about boys wile the later one , well…  it wouldn’t be wrong to say is ‘only’ about girls . And booze is not an issue in these two branches, both the branches like partying .

The ‘chicks’ in biotech in a  few  ways  are  much  better than  the  geeks  of   our branch ( E&C ) , they won’t mind gulping a couple of shots now and then , coz its like an adventure for them . Well they are a wild set of girls who believe that boys should not have all the fun !! .
And as for the mechanical , well booze is just another form of lubricant to keep the machines rolling .

A couple of minutes later , we were given the paper and the bell in the corridor signaled that it was time to begin .I looked at the question paper , except the first question rest all appeared like Greek and Latin again !

I turned back and glanced a view on ‘L’ , he was playing with his pen .

He raised his eyes and looked at me , I raised my eyebrows , to ask what we usually do… ‘how much you know’ , he shook his head…  ‘nothing‘ , I shook my head in reply…’same here’.

I looked around in the hall to find a couple of eyes doing the ‘survey’ before writing , there were a couple of geeks making expressions as if it was the toughest paper ever and their chances were as good as ours , there were a few other who could not join us in the bar , coz they had some ‘first aid’ hidden in their shoes and pockets , while the rest was the humble crowd , they were busy with the struggle , they were the ones none hated , or cared about , they were the normal crowd , they had no plans of making it to the  ‘red carpet‘  . A few of them were expecting something over the ‘Poverty line’ while others were trying to touch it .

I broke into a chuckle , then realized that it was not a regular lecture hall but an exam , and started scribbling the required information on the first page .

One hour was over , I had answered to my potential , the first thee questions were all I knew in the exam , they rounded upto 20 marks , I could not have scored more than 15 ,   ( it’s the rule ). Still a twenty more were needed to pass the exam , I had virtually given up , I could have walked out , but I didn’t feel like , not that I was bothered about coming out first , but I just didn’t feel like getting up , I was kind of lazy .

I read the 4^th question , it was asking for some description of a model , the name suggested its prehistoric origin . ‘hmmm… ‘ I began writing , I repeated the lines in the questions carefully , making no errors or spelling mistakes , then glanced out of the window , the clouds , the sun , the tree everything seemed so majestically beautiful , that I could not stop myself from describing the beauty of the nature . At this point it was the poet in me who had taken charge . The metaphors and the similes flowed till the end of the page , it might not have been technically correct  but I think to this day it remains as my best literary work ever . I felt happy after ‘answering’ that question , it was ‘beautiful’ , it wouldn’t be wrong to say that if I would have read it again , a tear would have definitely slipped my eyes . ( in fact my literature teacher would have kissed me , if she would have got a chance to read it . )

The next question was answered in less poetic but critical view , in the ‘answer’ I described the various problems I was facing , the shortage of money due to excessive partying , the tasteless food in the hostel mess , the fines I had to pay , the college policies which needed revival , etc . One point worth while noticing was that I made sure that my handwriting was good. It was cursive, it had all the grooves and turns Merlin Monroe had. But the problem was that, my Monroe could grab some unwanted attention, but the artist inside me was too tough to be stopped, while I was drunk.

I answered a couple of more questions with the same vigor and enthusiasm, stating examples and inferences from world politics, women empowerment, The holy bible and The Gita .

By now ‘L’ had already invited trouble, he was caught peeping into neighbor’s booklets and then for an argument with the examiner, he was sent out. All that happened when I was busy scripting nature and when I was drowning in deep thoughts and philosophy.

I had filled quiet a number of sheets by now. Now it was time for the moment of truth, the last question . Here I apologized for all the crap and poems I had pulled up , sitting in the exam . I don’t remember writing much, I kept it short and brief, just as the question had asked ‘Answer in brief ‘.

I handed out my paper to the examiner and left the room after 2and a half hour of rigorous writing and creative work , only a couple of leaves were left in my answer booklet , it was a job well done .

I was still trying to remember the poem, which I had written in the exam, when I met ‘L’.

“so hw was it ?”, he asked, I smiled back , “we ll write it again next time “, I replied .

We both broke into a chuckle and walked our way to ‘Mala-Shop’ (the famous pan shop near our college , its on Goggle Maps too !! , one of the advantages of lending desperate students cigarettes , they return favors in unexpected ways .)

A couple of months later , results were declared , the poet inside me had done what an engineer could not have , I scored 38 (35 + 3) out of 100 (grace brings you 35 , but you have to earn 38 !! ) . I had passed the subject , my excitement and surprise knew no boundaries .

I wondered if it was my poem describing the nature or the sincere apology letter that had  got me such a score .

Well…there are two shops which would never run out of business in Bangalore , one is the wine shop and the other is the Juice shop , so either ways it could have been an equally drunk professor or a tired man who spilled juice on my answer sheet .

the Tortoise and the Rabbit...

Friends just rock your world.

The tortoise and the rabbit …

The Tortoise had been practicing hard for the race . Every morning he would get up early and head straight to the beach , where he would spend endless hours working and training himself for the race he had challenged the Rabbit for .

Everyone in the town thought that the Tortoise had gone crazy , it was pretty clear that the Tortoise was no match for the Rabbit who could cover miles in his leaps .

But a commitment made , was a commitment made , and even though the Tortoise knew that he stood almost no chances of winning against the Rabbit he still wanted to respect  his words .

The Rabbit used to train for the race too , though he knew that the race was not that tough for him , he still had not taken it as a joke .

But deep inside he was worried for his friend , the Tortoise . He did think of calling the race off , but it could come as an insult for his friend .

He was in a dilemma , he didn’t want to loose to a Tortoise and he definitely , couldn’t see his friend loosing and being mocked at later .

“they all make fun of him in the school , ma . “ said the Rabbit to his mother sad and worried , “and even though he understands everything I say to him , I just don’t know how to tell him “ .

The Rabbit and the Tortoise were great friends , even though they different still they were totally alike .

Rabbit was a popular kid in his school . He was liked by the females , his friends thought he was cool and his teachers were proud of him , but life was a little different for the Tortoise , he wasn’t among the popular crowd , people used to mock him and make fun of him . He was considered the worst student and the laziest athlete .

All this while , he had his friend, the Rabbit to take care of him.

But life doesn’t let anyone rest in peace , things were going to be different now .

It was the night before the race , and like always , the Rabbit headed to the Tortoise’s house to have a small chit chat and to ask how prepared he was . He went straight to the window looking into Tortoise’s room .

Like always it was half open , but this night , the Tortoise wasn’t expecting him .

The Rabbit , stood up on the stool to reach the window, so that he could speak to his friend. He saw the Tortoise praying to the God . And so, as always , he waited him to complete his prayers,  listening to the innocent talk his friend had with the almighty .

‘ hey God . A million thanx for the day . I really don’t have much to share tonight , you know everything !! …You know , how hard I have worked for tomorrow’s race  . I know I don’t stand a chance in front of him , and I know it was totally immature of me to challenge him .

It has been so hard on him , I know he is running only because he respects me , he loves me . Thanx a lot for sending a friend like him, to a loser like me .

I know I will not win the race tomorrow , but please give me the courage to finish it , and please give me the courage to stay without my only friend , it’s all my fault…

I have always asked you to make me popular among everyone , but tonight I want you to listen to my prayer and forget what all I have asked for till now , I don’t want to be popular , I don’t want to be liked ... I just want some courage from you…Amen .’

The rabbit stepped down from the stool and walked his way to his house .

It was a clear morning and the crowd had gathered near the arena . The judges explained the rules to both the participants and gave a map of the route .

The Rabbit  wished the Tortoise luck and shook his hand with a smile .

The judge fired the bullet and the race started .

As expected , the Rabbit leaped swiftly with an amazing start .Well for the Tortoise , he had a steady start , but not fast enough to be considered quick . People had started laughing and mocking . But he kept himself strong he went on with what he had decided , he was determined .

The rabbit had reached very far , he looked back , there was no sign of the Tortoise , he felt sad for him . He was disappointed with the turn of events , he walked to the nearest tree and sat under it remembering the past days of fun and joy , he realized things would never be the same between both of them .

The Rabbit was still sitting under the tree when he saw the Tortoise , tired and sweaty , still walking .

He hid himself behind the tree . A few moments later the Tortoise passed the tree , the Rabbit was pleased and felt great .

“go my friend !go Tortoise”, he said , soft enough that none else could hear , but him. He felt proud of his friend .

He lay himself under the tree , happy and smiling .

The tortoise not just won the race , but also the reputation he longed for among people . He became popular among all the females and all inmates of the school , his stories were told far and wide .

The Rabbit on the other hand lost everything , he was loathed over by everyone for his arrogance and overconfidence , he was no longer popular and his shame was the talk of the town , but little did he care, coz God had listened to all the prayers of his friend and the best of all , ‘ they were still friends ’ …

just like the old times...

would you know my name ,

if I see you in heaven ,

Would it be the same,

if I see you in heaven .

I must be strong , and carry on ,

coz I know, I don’t belong ,

Here in heaven …

                            --Eric Clapton .

Just like the old times….

Time does not stop , moments do .

Sitting by the shore , felling the cool fragrant breeze which carried the aroma of the water and the warmth of the mild fire , they looked into each other’s eyes . They were both smiling through pain and didn’t want the other to know . 

They both knew it , it was easy to read their eyes , they just didn’t want to confront  it .

“ A couple of months more “, said the doctor hiding his face from the eyes which expected hope .

“There must be something …”. He could hardly complete his sentence and a heavy tear rolled down his cheek . He looked away and wiped it off before anyone could see it .

“ I am sorry “, said the doctor holding his trembling hands , “be strong … for her “ .

“ What did the doctor say ? “, she asked before he could enter the room .  “nothing much, as usual , regular reports” , “you know how things work ...” he replied avoiding her eyes , picking up the bottle from the table . He knew a lot of questions waited for him . “ you know something ? “ she asked .

He gathered himself , looked at her , still finding himself unable to look into her eyes and asked “what ?”.

“you might never learn to lie “.

And he burst into tears , she held him in her weak arms , as he rested his head on her chest dried of the chemo and medications , consoling him .

He was crying like a kid , a kid who had just realized that his favorites pal would leave him alone , and would go far away , never to return .

“Don’t do this to me ..Damn it ! “, “please... don’t do it to me “.

They sat there for hours tired , broken , helpless .

The fire had oozed down , the half burned  ashes were flying up in the moonless sky , orange and yellow , trying to fill colors on the black canvas which was jaded with diamonds far and wide , the ashes would rise and disappear in the night .

“ remember , the last time we came here”, “out of nowhere , it had stared raining “ he said , breaking the silence . “ ya and you had to spend next two days in bed , crying and complaining “, “what a cry baby ! “ she replied winking , making fun of him .

They smiled and he felt weak but , still continued smiling , he was in deep pain , probably more than her .

She came and sat in front of him , resting her head on his chest , he took her shawl and enveloped both the bodies .

He took her slender fingers in his hands and planted a gentle kiss . “remember when you had fractured your hand , learning to drive that old scooter “, he said “ I didn’t mind cooking for both of us “,“It was fun to see you making faces and getting angry for what I did to the kitchen “

“ohh..ya..and you still haven’t bought me the bangles you promised after wrecking my kitchen “ she replied pinching his cheek softly .

They laughed , smiled through the night , playing games , mocking each other , and the stars witnessed the night , with heavy hearts , carefully hiding their tears from each other.

Somewhere in between his story , she closed her eyes , it took him long to realize , for it was so peaceful , that it felt like the moments had frozen .

Time never stops , but moments do .

They lay there under the moonless sky jaded with diamonds far and wide . The next day it was going to be some other place, some other time from the past, some other memories waited their return .

“ Let’s relive all the moments , all the times we spend together “, she said wiping the tears off is cheeks . He had stopped crying now ,the helplessness was too tough to get over with . “ lets live our life again “ she said looking deep into his eyes , holding his face in her weak hands .

Passion fruit ..

                                                                                 Flip…

She threw the glass on the door as he left the room , a shattering sound was heard and it scattered into a thousand pieces .  

Sometimes small issues ignite a big fight . And though the issue is not the real cause of fight, still it gets all the blame.

People say they are an unusual couple, fighting through love, and loving through fights.

Even when they are together, sometimes the lovemaking gets so intense that is passes all boundaries of  passion , to say the least .

And when the silence prevails, its those pity issues, which come into picture .

Its like the low moment of a trip . When you think you have sobered up , the awkward silence prevails , and in a moment you are back in the groove.

Sitting by the couch , resting her head on her arms she was asking herself  why she went against everyone  to be with this bastard .

She realized how much she hates him , how annoying it is to be under the same roof .

He doesn’t care to remember dates, he has a hundred lies to tell, he even didn’t care remembering their marriage anniversary , let alone her birthday . He is so self-centered .

One hour later he arrived , sat besides her and tried to wrap her in his arms ,only to be shook off in anger.  He realized it wouldn’t be easy .

He reached to open the window , it had rained outside, the smooth breeze glided in smoking through his shirt , carrying the cologne she loved .

She felt a sudden rush through her , a rush that  that was not just about anger but also about burning desire and passion . She raise her head , the eyes met , he recognized the look .

And…

From the travelling diaries

                                                               From the travel diaries…

“ So how long would it take to reach there ?”, I asked him . “four hours “, “ if we get a bus on time “, he replied lazily , pushing himself in the seat .

“ And where is this place exactly “ I asked .

College had just reopened after the vacations , and students were still returning from their home . We practically had nothing productive to do and the college was closed for a couple of more days for municipal elections , nothing that we cared about , as long as it was giving us a few more days off college , we could take it .

“ Puthaparti ,  in Andhra Pradesh “, he replied , keeping his eyes closed ,  . “ Andhra Pradesh !! “ , “ are u crazy  ! ! “, I was shocked .

“ Hee Hee “ . I could make out that I had been fooled , by the wicked smile that floated on his face  and realized why none else volunteered for the cause .

Once again I had fallen victim of my habit of listening to half conversations and trusting my friends , blindfolded .

‘Damn’ , ‘ ummm…whatever ‘ I said to myself .

“ okie ! ! “ , I said to him in a less-cared-about tone .

College was closed for a couple of days , and even if would have been open , I didn’t see myself making any contribution to the world of engineering , it would have been he same old and sad stories of lectures and long , hectic and monotonous lab programs .

Andhra Pradesh seemed a petty good deal , it seemed interesting , to say the least .

Though I wasn’t expecting a trip out of the city , I did expect a night out and my bag was prepared for two nights . 

‘ Tooth brush , a couple of clean undergarments , and an extra set of jeans and shirt ‘ I counted my belongings in the bag , and satisfied that all I wanted was there , I burried my chin in my hand , stared outside through the window into nothingness ,  enjoying the overshadowed scenery and the cool breeze as our bus headed to the city bus station  .

The unplanned trip had begun .

Even though it was completely unplanned , but there were a few things we needed , a toothpaste for instance , which both of us didn’t remember to bring .

I have made numerous travels , far and wide , with him , but never do I recall using a toothpaste that he carried , not that he is filthy or doesn’t care brushing his teeth , he is just lazy , or may be ‘too man to care’ for such things .

There were other things that ‘I’ needed , something to munch on the way . We got down at local Food-days mart .

I got a couple of packets of Pringles , a few packets of chocolate cream biscuits , a few  Mars Bars , couple of packets of ‘ cream and onion ‘ Lay’s , a few packets of plum cakes and a few other knick-knacks . The bill rounded off to an amount , which to this date gives him a reason to keep me off from shopping for a trip , but to give an idea , I would like you to know that it was more than all other expenses combined together .

  

We reached the bus station on time , bought our self tickets , and settled ourselves in the bus , I took out a mars bar and started feasting on it , he looked at me , shook his head , let out a deep sigh and closed his eyes , I knew he would doze off in the bus , he always does , while I would have to sit and undergo all the bumps and jerks in the rickety bus , hence , the only possible way to keep myself occupied was to munch on the junk till we reached our destination . I still had to master the act of sleeping on the bus .

The engine started , I brought my eyes , which were following random people on the platform , inside the bus , there were hardly any souls inside .

It was just me , him , the driver and a man who appeared like our HOD with his half bald moon shaped head , from the back .

“ dude, I think we are on the wrong bus “, I said , a little concerned ,“ ummm… let it be   ”, he replied half asleep , ‘ ahh..damn you lazy sloth !! ‘ I cursed .

I walked over to the driver and asked him if the bus was heading to the same place we were , he nodded , “ week day , no crowd saar !! “ , he said in the typical Bangalore auto driver accent , “aahh , ok ! ”. I smiled back and made my way to the seat , I glanced a look on the man , felt relieved , it wasn’t our HOD .

I came back on my seat , opened a packet of Pringles , stared at Jit for a moment who was now completely unaware of the happenings and gazed outside the window , it was still overshadowed , ‘I probably might rain ‘ I said to myself . ,.

I wondered , if he would ever be able to get over his sleep . He practically sleeps everywhere , in the class , in the restraunts waiting for the order , in the queue waiting for his turn , on the dinner table waiting for others to complete their meal , on the bikes , while on a road trip , while watching movies , in the bus , in the auto , all he needs is a support and he ‘ll make a bed for himself , I even remember him dozing off while standing in the bus , I couldn’t help laughing at him that day , he woke up , made an annoyed expression but couldn’t sustain it for long , he fell asleep again , while I laughed all the way back to the college .

He sleeps when he is tired , when he is sick , when he is sad , when he is angry , when he is happy , when the weather is too bad or too good , all the time , the trip was going to be no exception .  

The bus we opted for must have been in its terminal days of service , it was old and rickety , a small bump on the road was enough to shake all the screws and bolts , though the seats and window panes were clean , it could still not make up for the fact , that we had to spend 6 hrs on it , instead of 4 , coz the bus had to be stopped in every half hour for coolant refueling . The driver would run down with a container to fill water from puddles , taps , small tanks and whatever he could find on the way , every time he would stop , I would wake up Jit , get outside the bus , light a cigarette and smoke adding more clouds to the heavily overshadowed sky , the timeless place and the flowing cool breeze had brought us in a different world , it was the beginning of  our wanderlust .

The driver offered us to find seats in some other bus , but we were happy with the timelessness of the place , we wanted to be with the bus on its ‘ last crusade ‘ .

The ‘ old lady ‘ carried us , through the tattered roads overlooking the rich green rice fields . We witnessed the giant bald brown rocks beaming at each other with anger , trees forming canopies , waiting for school children , prepared for the rains .

The stones by the side of the roads which had shaped themselves perfectly , for tired travelers  and the aroma which could make you feel at home .  

We crossed small villages and settlements as the slow bus had started introducing us to new dimensions of time .

To be contd .

maa..

Maa….

We all have come to this world with specific purpose , and it wouldn't be long that we shall figure it out too.  She came to this world to become a mother , she came to spread love , she came to take care of everyone , and I am one of the lucky few who stood on the receiving end  .

She was introduced to me , by my mother as my sister’s caretaker , and I had no idea , that this introduction would lead to an everlasting friendship and a bond which I  would treasure for years to come .

She was in her late 40’s . A typical sindhi woman , dressed in her bright Punjabi suit , tall , a little on the healthier side , pink and plump cheeks , big brown kohl  lit eyes , henna colored golden brown hair carefully pleated in a ponytail elegantly covered by a chunni , beautiful slender fingers and a smile which could give a run for money to any young aspiring model .

If I was ever asked to describe an angel , I might probably end up adding white feathers to the same word picture.

She used to come  before I would leave for school and stay till mum and dad returned from work .

Everyday she would walk me to the bus stop , on the way she would ask about my friends , my teachers , my favorites in the class , people i disliked , everyone .
She would inquire if some kid was bulling me over , if I had completed my homework  and many other whats whys and who(s).

She used to blend her questions in such stories that I never realized I answered them .

She knew everyone , from my small world , from the girl in my class whom I hated the most to the man who used to sell samosas in the small stall outside the school ,our old driver ji who I used to talk to on my way to school and on my way back, the conductor who took away the whistle from me , which my friend gave to me in school ( I blew that whistle , and driver ji  thought it was the conductor. He stopped the bus . They looked at each other , puzzled and after a small debate my red whistle was confiscated for no reason !)

Breakfast was something she was very particular about , she made sure I finished it .

I had probably tried every trick in the book to fool her with the glass of milk , but never did I succeed.  I used to get annoyed on her for making me drink all milk and making me finish my breakfast , but a frowning face was too tough to sustain after the shower of compliments and friendly teasing , she had an antidote for everything .

Her book must have been heavier than mine .

Everyday after sending me off for school, she would return home. She would give my sister a bath , feed her , sing her a lullaby , wave her till she would fall asleep , and try to finish the regular cleaning as much as possible till the little devil would get up and start crying again . It must have been a tedious job , for I remember , when my kid sister used to start crying once , she would go on till the neighbors would come knocking on the doors. There were thousands of diapers that needed to be changed , and hundreds of clothes which needed to be cleaned as the day would come to an end  , but , never did she complain .

I used to return from school in the afternoon. Sometimes tired of the bus wresting with other kids , sometimes happy and full of energy on the newly acquired action figure or some heroic story of how I beat someone in the school bus  wresting. Sometimes hiding the oil slick on my shirt caused by the tight Tiffin box , and sometimes the torn pocket , she would let me say my story , decide over it  and tell her verdict , I never lied about anything to her , coz she listened to every word I said , she let me grow .

She was totally against  me fighting with other kids , and would often get upset about it , but I would explain her that it was just a way of testing the righteous owner of the window seat , she would smile and run her fingers through my hair . I wasn't so found of that. I would complain and tell her that I never liked it , on which she would tease me saying “there aren’t girls around here “ , I would blush and try to hide myself in her loose suit  .

I remember making her run behind me for changing the school uniform , going to bed in the same uniform after getting tired , and getting up in different clothes , I still wonder how she used to do that. Probably all that and much more came from her book. Her magic book !

She allowed me to watch t.v till she cooked lunch for us and till I finished it .

Here , I used to play a trick , I would eat slowly , chewing over a thousand times , so that I could finish at least two of my favorite shows . Both of us hated watching news , but it was fun with her , she would comment on the way the news reader dressed up , that her cheeks were red like tomatoes , and that she resembled someone from her neighborhood who was fat and lazy .   

I remember the most funniest jokes being told , by her .

She was fun to be with , and an expert at making friends . She was fun to talk to and even though all her stories had the same characters and would somehow end in pretty much the same way , they were fun to listen to . She used to fill so many details that I used to dream with my eyes wide open , and sleep off in her lap , I remember asking the same questions over and over again and being answered patiently .

Before she came to take care of my sister , she was used to work in a kindergarten , even though she couldn’t read , she knew all the alphabets , mnemonics and all the nursery rhymes , as my sister grew and she began talking in her rickety tone , eating half of the words. She stared singing rhymes which she remembered , to my sister , sometimes we all used to sing together , we had our own choir .

Me , my sister and her , together we could give any choir some serious competition . 

Summer vacations were the time , when we would not see each other for long , we would visit my grandmum in Kerala.  She would bring something for me and my sister to eat from , on the journey .

I never cared for fancy chocolates , I liked the orange candies she used to bring , 8 for 1 coin .

She would bring hundreds of those and give it to me. Ask for a few promises , not to skip any meal of the day , not to fight with anyone and a thousand of other things . She would kiss my sister and me goodbye , and I always wondered why her eyes used to become so wet , I wondered if she was crying , it was tough to tell , and on being asked she would  break into a chuckle and hug me tightly and run her fingers through my hair , but , sometimes I didn’t mind .

Once I heard my mother tell my aunt that ‘she’ didn’t have any children , my mother was wrong , she had children and lots of them , she probably had more children than anyone I knew of .

I always believed , even with a hundred children around her , she would have loved us , the same way .

She saw us grow , soon my sister was old enough to go to the school .

Usually and in fact  on all occasions , children cry on their first day of school , but my sister did not , coz she was there with her whole day , she was there to feed her lunch , to make her friends with .

And my sister in turn introduced her to all her friends , she now had a big lot to take care of , and she did it with all her heart .

I do not remember her last day at our place , but I do remember waiting for her . Those must have been the longest days of my life , our coir was short of a member , I was bereft of a lap to sleep on , there was none to listen to my heroic tales ,absolutely  none to comment on the news reader and none to tease me.

I wouldn’t have minded if she wished to run her fingers through my hair , I only wanted her to come back .

Few years later , she visited us , and the kohl lit eyes were still the same , beautiful and big , the cheeks were pink and plump frilled with a few lines of wrinkles near her eyes  ,  the golden brown hair had strands of gray in them and she was as beautiful as she had ever been , and could give any young girl a run for her money .

She was a mother , to us . She was our maa ….