Who’s the beggar?

Day 1:
She unpacked the wrapped packet and checked the contents inside. Two Indian breads, a bowl worth of lentil soup, a preparation of cottage cheese in tomato gravy and papadam. She settled on the hard floor of the cobbled streets, contemplating which portion to devour first. Even as her stomach groaned, she was immediately aware of a pair of eyes eyeing the food with acute interest. She was annoyed, that a hard earned meal would have to be fought over. She picked up a rough stone and threw it in the direction of those eyes. The stone hit its mark, and the being scampered away.

Day 2:
Today was flattened rice breads, sour soup and indian pickle. She had just lifted the first morsel to her lips, when those damned eyes showed up around the corner. This time she was prepared and hurled the stone even as the eyes made their silent approach. The result satisfied her as the being again backed off. But in her hurry she had toppled her meal. This night the stomach sang it’s woeful tune for a long time.

Day 3:
She felt as if the 33 million gods were conspiring against her peace of mind. Not only was today’s meal a meagre one of plain rice and bland lentil soup, those eyes had crept much closer. She could smell the sour odour of sweat and hear the incessant panting.
Out of exasperation, she placed a portion of her food on ground for partaking. The being hobbled forward, eyeing her suspiciously even as it gobbled up the food in a hurry.

Day 25:
The two most unlikely beings on this earth had formed a weird routine. She would set aside some of her meal, the being would finish it in a flash and slink away a short distance eyeing her as she would finish her own food.
She wondered silently what had made her to share the precious food. Somewhere she had accepted that the way she got her food through all the hard labour of the day, the being too was going through hardships of its own. She reasoned to herself that in her own small way she was alleviating it’s sorrows.

Day 45:
Winters in Delhi were cruel, and staying warm was a bigger priority. The food was obviously crucial, but so was getting a blanket. Even as she was wondering where she could spend the night without dying of cold, the being slowly came up to her with a tattered blanket.
She wondered where it had stolen it from, but more than that she believed she saw gratitude and loyalty in those staring eyes. Maybe her incessant shivering yesterday night had given it a cue as to what ailed her. She marvelled at the intelligence of the being. She gave a tiny smile and tossed a piece of bread to it, which was dinner for the night and sat down on the side walk.

Day 55:
Today was exceptionally cold. The blanket was hardly any protection. Even as she thought so, she felt the being’s body settle down next to her. She hugged it tightly even as both of them shared the body heat to survive on the dark, cold wintry night.

Day 66:
She was very happy today. She had laboriously managed to gather a large meal for both of them. It was a feast. The nights too were becoming more bearable as they both shared the blankets under a shamiana of a million stars.
She was experiencing a sense of calmness after a long long time, not since her own children had thrown her out into the streets 5 years ago. The pleasure of having something to share with someone and feel wanted.
She turned into her usual street. Happily she began to cross the lane towards the corner that she had begun to call home. A Landrover rammed into her and tossed her away like a ragged doll. The hotel food that she had scavenged was scattered all around her, mixing with her blood and viscera. The land rover sped away.

Day 80:
The being paced up and down the corner. The human had never failed to appear at night since the day it had approached it. Now it had been 14 days since she had left him. It could not fathom why. Humans were different it said to itself. It had stolen a new quilt for her knowing that her teeth still chattered on some very cold nights.
Maybe it should tell her that he was waiting for her, and that she should hurry. It arched it’s back and howled into the night, so that she could hear him loud and clear. It settled silently next to her spot awaiting her return. Dogs across streets heard it’s fervent plea, and too howled into the night as if to pass on its message to the lost companion.
However amidst the cacophony of human noise, only the shining stars in the night heard it.

Obituary:
On the night of 31st December, 2018 an old woman was overrun by a black landrover. The deceased was identified as Lakshmi Devi the widow of late Mr. Harkishandas Khattar, the gold baron. Disputes over the patriarch’s will had left Lakshmi Devi destitute. The sons allege that their mother had left the home of her own will. Her whereabouts for last couple of years were not known. The sons have begun funeral preparations, & have vowed to build in her name a shelter for abandoned people & animals. The case continues.

Will he , won’t he!

Aniruddh continued musing even as he stepped out of the restaurant onto one of the cobbled by lanes of Jaipur. He was besotted with her. He felt that he had finally found someone who actually understood him, at a time when he had given up all hope.

She had a rich laugh that still rang in his ears. He still remembered how she loved his latest podcast on the forts of Rajasthan. For someone who did not understand Indian history much, she had surprisingly remembered key details of the podcast and eagerly waited for the next one, wherein he was going to expound on the secrets of the Jantar Mantar. She had in the passing asked him not to give up on his passion. After all you had food bloggers, fashion bloggers and then there was this niche stream of history aficionados who were trying to make it to the mainstream of blogging for Indian history. He was one of them.

He trailed along, slowly reflecting on his own twisted past. His had been a failed life of a brilliant engineer who had passed with distinction. He had worked tirelessly for nearly 6 years in some of the most prestigious firms, in pursuit of money (as money for him equated to happiness) then. Money had helped him afford fast cars and luxury stays in fancy resorts. His wardrobe then was bursting at seams with Rohit Bal rubbing shoulders with Armani. There was an entire wall with an enviable collection of perfumes, right from the exotic fragrances of middle east to the classy Issey Miyake and Perry Ellis. After all he believed that women liked men who lived the high flying life. At least that’s what Dan Bilzerian had taught him.

But still he had been unlucky in love. Women were attracted to him, but later he realized that it was not him but his pseudo rich alter ego to which they were attracted to. He was unable to have meaningful conversations with them, and always the relationships would fizzle out even before he could feel his heart flutter.

He realized that he did not love himself, so how would any woman come to love him. They were far more intelligent then men ever could be, as far as matters of heart were concerned. So two years ago he sold all that he had, and dived into his passion which was history, and so began his journey as a history blogger.

The last two months had been magical. He had finally found Anna in his life. She liked him for who he was. He really felt that this time the relationship was for keeps. It would be a very special woman who would actually compliment someone who called history blogging as a caree——

WHAM…the bus hit him at his pelvis throwing him some 20 yards away and he crashed into a brick wall, shattering his spine and cracking his skull. His gut had spilled out on to the road even as he lost complete consciousness.

The sirens blared, as Aniruddh was taken to the nearest hospital that could treat trauma cases. Doctors wheeled him in and checked his vital stats. He was declared brought dead.

Annirudh himself hovered inches above his body, in his metaphysical state. He was mildly piqued by the entire sequence of things. Death had always fascinated him, especially what would happen to a person after death. But to actually go through the process, and to realize that he still retained a sense of his past memories, in a way disappointed him. Death was not the final frontier after all.

The doctors came in again. They could feel a very faint pulse, and began to revive him in earnest. He had half the mind to ask them to stop. What was he to do with a broken body in a world where anything less than an Adonis body was body shamed and a specially-able person was still treated with pity.

The pain solely returned to his consciousness, as the doctor’s labor bore fruit. He struggled hard. There was no point to this exercise. He did not wish to live the life of an invalid, especially when he had finally found true happiness, just before it was so cruelly taken away from him.

But the pain would not go away, and Aniruddh could not keep his eyes closed any longer. He took a long gasp and opened his eyes. A dream. No a nightmare. He could not decide which. It was 6 in the morning and his entire bed was in a disarray, as if he had really lived each and every moment of his dream.

His mobile pinged. His manager was asking him to send an update on yesterday’s site visits before he resumed office.

He ignored it. In the drafts, he saw the email wherein he had half typed his resignation. He only needed to click on send and that would be it. In the back of his mind he wondered if he was a bigger invalid than the broken Aniruddh of his dreams.

His thumb hovered on the send button, even as the sun rays streamed through the windows of his penthouse.

Breaking Dawn

As the rays crept along the rugged knolls,
I lifted my palm in front of my squinting eyes even as my tears flowed.

Lo behold as lord Surya made his majestic presence felt, I knelt in gratitude just to have experienced his splendour afresh.

I thanked the invisible stars for giving me another chance, another dawn, to enrich my life, even as Lord Surya beckoned towards a new chapter from the bright sky…

Free Fall

He stood on the ledge looking down. He had taken months to come to this decision. All his actions off late had led to this particular moment.

He took a deep breath. While he had made up his mind a long time ago, there was always a huge difference between imagining yourself doing something and actually doing it — especially if it meant hurling yourself off into a 300 foot gorge.

The clouds swirled around him. He had lied at home that he was off with his friends to a luxury resort. They would never have anyways understood his motives he thought.

He gave a wry smile even as the thought crossed his mind. Delaying the inevitable he told himself. He looked down once more into the gorge and steeled himself for the deed. He took a few steps back. Nay, he was not developing cold feet. He did not want his nerves and the interfering mind to stop him from doing what was must. So he took a running start and flung himself off into the chasm.

Free fall. He screamed even as random pieces of his life raced in front of his glazed eyes. Those late nights on the Marine drive musing about nothingness even as he tried to make sense of his life. The graduation party that his parents had thrown for him even as he had wondered why had he graduated as an engineer. Her beautiful face, even as she had bid a tearful goodbye saying that it could never have worked out between them. The kind old lady who had given him lift even as his car had broken down on Nashik Mumbai highway. His proud brother who would admonish him in private, but always back him in public.

Rohan wondered how long this was to continue. He felt as if he were falling for hours, and these random thoughts seemed to never end. But he was wrong.

The elastic cord first stretched and then recoiled, even as it broke his free fall. Even as his feet touched solid ground, he had already concluded that bungee jumping was not as exciting as he had imagined. Maybe he would have to go higher and try next time sky diving to give him an adrenaline rush. Normal pursuits of life had long since lost their charm for him…

The circus called life

The circus was the most popular event in the land. The star attraction, were not the tigers, lions or even the acrobats. It was the glamorous knife thrower called Czarina, balancing her target’s life in her hands, even as the knives sang through the air, rushing inexorably towards the fragile limbs, and sparing the precious lives at the last moment.

While the audience was enthralled by her, so were they glued to their seats when the popular clown of the troupe emerged out of thin air. He was the side act, the friendly buffoon who kept the crowds entertained while the main actors prepped for their parts.

But when the Czarina was on stage, even the clown was drawn to her beautiful skill. So one fine day, against his better judgement he gathered his scattered courage and called out to her offering his companionship, heart and the smile that made everyone else laugh. Alas the Czarina, looked at him with sadness and pity.

“I have enough suitors and followers who flatter me, and need no more. I do not have time for you or your companionship. You would be better served by looking somewhere else for someone who can reciprocate your emotions” she said and turned her back. The clown winced internally at those words, which were as sharp as her knives. Nay, sharper as the knives never really hurt anyone, but the words cut deep.

But he too was the clown. Like the Czarina he too was a master of his own subtle art. A master of disguise and an expert at masking his emotions. He bowed to the Czarina, wishing her the best in life and beat a gallant retreat.

In the end, the Czarina continued to enthrall the audiences with her knives even as she spared lives of her targets but numbed down her own, and the clown returned to make his audience laugh in raptures, even as he silently hummed the evergreen classic to himself

“chalo ek baar fir se ajnabee ban jaye hum dono”.

The audience laughed and enjoyed the show.

Mid-night musings in the times of likes and thumbs ups

Why do people look forward to companionship? What is the purpose of trying to find someone with whom you would want to spend precious moments of your life? What is the purpose of romantic love between two people? This is a universal conundrum which afflicts most of us, and here is my take on it.

What draws two people to each other romantically?Maybe it’s the physical attraction. Maybe it’s the ultimate slaking of a thirst for a form of attention only accomplished when you are the apple of someone’s eyes. Maybe it’s simply the chance of having a companion with whom one can grow old with. All romanticized notions in some form, true in parts pointing towards a whole.

However I believe that at a fundamental level, our species have a very strong desire to share ourselves. Be it our bodies, our vision, our emotions, thoughts etc. You name it and we want to share it with others. However what we desire even more than sharing is the acceptance, nay a positive affirmation from the opposite party without any judgement of things we wish to share with them.

We are in turn drawn to those who react favorably in a manner that pleases our sensibilities. Especially when other conditions such as physical aspects of the person, etc are thrown into the mix, the formula is complete for a strong sense of attraction.

Unfortunately while one sided attraction is a mathematical expression, what we humans desire is a mathematical equation. That is, the opposite person should also want to share themselves with us in a manner similar to what we desire.

Here unfortunately, events, people and emotions are out of our control. The concept of unrequited love, is a classic case of a mathematical expression. There is no equating emotion of similar intensity on the other side balancing this desire.

How often we have reminisced of things that could have been but never were/are. The disappointment due to the lack of reciprocation from the opposite side, often assists in cutting short budding lives, burdened by a societal and peer pressure of constant Facebook and Instagram updates. A by-product of in- your-face lovey-dovey selfies and portraits of perfect relationships through rose tinted glasses (my bad the right word would be ‘filters’) of online stories.

The fact remains that no one ever shares on these platforms those moments of feeling broken and unwanted when they were rejected, a zillion times before finally finding that balancing force of the aforementioned hallowed equation.

I guess the only option is to look forward. That is, constantly tape that pierced heart, fill it up again with patience and hope that the next person will not again dash it to pieces or worse ignore you as if you never existed. The alternative scarily, is only a long and a painful road to through a quagmire of hurt and suffering.

Unfortunately when has knowing something to be true and accepting it as being true ever been the same.