BLACK & WHITE.

Your skin may make men call you a Black, a White, a Brown or a Yellow but believe me; many among us have actually hearts of White. Yes, in today’s society White reigns supreme. Do not fall for the god men fashioning a saffron robe or a long beard who proclaim through public address systems that all mortals have blackness in their hearts and Heaven is as ‘pure’ as white itself. It’s indeed true that they possess the Whitest of hearts and also that some men still possess some Blackness in their hearts. Yet realize the fallacies of these fellow mortals who have never been to Heaven themselves trying so audaciously to paint Heaven with the color of their hearts!

 I say, we all are surrounded by men with hearts as dark as that of White. Hearts that can’t tolerate even the minuscule of impurity or imperfection in the society. Those flaws can be of different hues—respecting others religion, advocating equal human rights, supporting homosexuality or anything out of the commonplace is apathy for the White. White sits high on a pedestal like a deity and scorns at the riot of colors all at the same time cleansing itself of any blemish. It is acutely aware of maintaining its starkness to stay in the league of the purists. It comes down hard on the other colors, condemning and castigating them from its bubble of piousness. It dictates to them the norms of the society to lead a life of purity. “All glories to White!” it proclaims, trying but in vain to re-paint others with its brush of morality. It doesn’t help ‘cleanse’ the palette at all; rather White’s brush itself gets soaked in the colors of pluralism.

Few are there whose hearts are the abode of the Black. The Black is the nemesis of the White, openly accepting in to its fold the various colors of the society which the White had so stubbornly relegated as trash. It absorbs and endures all—the anger of the Red, the jealousy of the Green, the gloominess of the Blue and even the starkness of the White! It never speaks ill of any of them, for it realizes that pluralism is the only way to form the rainbow of equality. It attempts to create a rainbow, where all colors of the society get an equal place and position, without any disrespect or prejudice whatsoever. The sky today is a dull grey, not because of the monsoons, but due to the tussle between the kindly Black and the unyielding White. Black had offered its hand of peace a long time ago, but White keeps on trying to paint the hand white with its brush never realizing that it is only muddying its own clear skies.

But Black has the vibrancy of the colorful masses, who one day together shall paint an everlasting rainbow dethroning the White from its pedestal of hypocrisy. That day shall the black sheep, the antihero of today, reign supreme, happily accommodating every color of the society in the purest form of pluralism. And that day shall the sham protagonist, the white dove fly away asunder from earthly hues with its bagful of prejudice, hatred and intolerance.

Denzel, my brother.

A big, black bear with a deafening bark is how my neighbors fear you. Seldom has a night passed without you disturbing us with your barks. When such an oddity does occur, my neighbors can’t sleep even more! How could they, when everyone models you as the vigilante of our neighborhood.

Nights don’t seem to pass when you don’t bark, but the ticking’s of the clock sure move fast for a hyper-active creature like you. I have noticed the strands of grey on your head, Denzel. And I have noticed a lot more. You’re no longer the black bear who could jump 2 feet from the ground to snatch the bread from my hand. Your torrid moves have now become placid steps of maturity. You are now the big brother of mine who has learnt the tricks of this world in which I’m still trying to figure out.

On lazy afternoons you would stare out at the clouds, perhaps reminiscing your past. Or maybe gazing into the future for I know your brain works even faster than your legs chasing the cat. Who would ever find out what mysteries unravel in the depths of your eyes as you gaze towards yonder sky?

Hey! You sleep a lot now-a-days Denzel and I have seen you dreaming wide awake in your sleep. The legs moving frantically, a hushed bark now and then as you chase someone in your dreams. Poor soul he must be to be at the receiving end of your rage. The neighborhood cat, the white butterflies fluttering in front of our porch, the gang of stray dogs that roam about at night or anything moving for that matter could interest you and keep you occupied for hours. Not like us humans who always hanker after luxuries, never seeming to extinguish our greed.

You realize now that they can be dreams only from your past, brother. Your spirit is indomitable, but now when you try to chase me I can hear the panting of your breath. I realize that my big, black bear is growing old as you trail off far behind, yet never giving up the chase.

I know you miss Mr. Frog with whom you used to share your lunch every day. Old Mr. Frog has been gone for quite awhile now. Maybe you have seen him hopping from one cloud to another in the sky and that’s why you so often stare up skywards. He was a close friend I know, for who else had the courage to touch your plate when you were around! In spite of his loss, with ears cocked you try your best to bury your sad thoughts as you guard the house; always wary of the sly cat trying to sneak in through the window.

Sometimes I have seen you peering below the washing machine hoping to find old Mr. Frog again. But you know what they say, my little-big brother, “…and the leaf that goes down the stream is ought not to return”. The memories from our past…they will continue to haunt us. The past is but to be only dreamt of, never to be given space in our present realm.

I know your spirit still yearns for a fight in the street with your pals to prove your dominance all over again. But I say, let them continue thinking of you as a bear rather than de-mystifying their beliefs. You have treaded your path and now don’t need to prove anything anymore, Denzel.

Your bark still comforts us all that you are ever ready to guard our neighborhood. You had had your moments of sunshine and now it’s your time for taking an afternoon siesta. Take rest and gear up! Because when I return, you MUST be able to take me down. And then together we’ll chase the butterfly, the cat…or whatever’s worth chasing in front your deep, brown eyes.

DEATH OF THE LAND.

I heard the wind howling when living mortals are scarce to find by.  Sent forth by the raging sea it spurred up all things inanimate in its path. As leaves, metal sheets danced hand in hand, even the wisps of the dead were crying out from their tombs. They all danced—the dead and the undead. The wind with its deathly moan was calling them out for their Salvation. The sea had been a silent spectator to the death of the land, but no more. A land so dead, infested by the worms of hypocrisy and deceit of 7 billion people ravaging and tearing apart numb Nature. The wind was the sea’s carrier to this barren land. Even the mute wind was wailing the death of the land as it began to salvage the remaining vestiges of Nature.

 I too wanted to fly along with the undead and moan the death of the land. But scarcely had I opened the window, the furious wind shut my eyes tight.

 Ah! How could I join them, when I too was a part of the sinning 7 billion? I had played my part in the conspiracy of looting the Nature. Realizing thus, I came back…waiting for the day when I too, would be able to seek redemption for my sins against Nature. Someday I too would howl and wail the death of the land. Until then, I remain an inmate in the jailhouse of 7 billion.

O HUMANS!

Puff lay chained in a dingy cell of the guarded tower. Breathing heavily, he reminisced about the days of yore—of the golden days of his youth when he used to roam about in his abode in Dracoville. Oh, how happy they all were! Flying with the birds among the clouds, he and his mates would make fire-rings in a bid to woo the pretty dragonesses. The rabbit and the deer would always want to take a ride upon their backs and they would scare them away with little flickers of fire. The memories of the past brought a smile upon his haggard face. Tonight was going to be his last night of captivity, for the King had decided that he will be put to death when the first rays of sun fall on the castle. His moment of liberation had finally come to break open the shackles of his distraught life. He still remembers that day vividly when the King’s soldiers attacked and plundered Dracoville. They were peace-loving creatures who had never seen the horrific face of human brutality. Pillaging their home, they took away many of them including Puff as prisoners all because the vain princess Tiara wanted a dragon as a pet.

Puff was a robust dragon at that time and his green mane had sheen not found in many of his other dragon-friends. Unluckily for him, princess Tiara chose him as her pet and all his others friends were killed by the King’s guards. Life would have been so easy for him if he would have been killed at that moment itself, but destiny had some cruel schemes for him. Dragging him inside the castle, they tied him up with heavy chains and shoved him inside the cell that was to become his home for the remainder of his days. For the first time in his life, Puff witnessed the pangs of bondage. At first, he had tugged and pulled the chains and hurled himself against the oaken door several times but to no avail. Resigning himself to his fate, he saw his metamorphosis from a carefree youth to a bonded slave. Being princess Tiara’s pet, his duty was to fly her admist the clouds and make fire-rings for her entertainment. No doubt, he did all these things in Dracoville too, but life’s no fun when you are forced to do a thing even if you like that or not. Unlike his friends, Tiara and her friends were harsh on him and would make him do all sorts of tricks in spite on his reluctance. He had learnt not to protest because any act of aggression on his part was punished by several lashes on his back by the ever-watchful guards. His only solace was the nightly visit by his bird-friend Jay who used to perch atop the cell window and sing to him the tales from Dracoville. Jay sang about the spell of doom cast upon his former abode by the humans. Exploiting their resources, the merciless humans had either killed or enslaved all of his friends. They had also not spared the other creatures as they used to frequently hunt them for ‘fun’. Killing someone for fun? Never before in his life had Puff heard such an incredulous sport. He used to send out a small prayer every night pleading with God to free him from this arduous life forever.

Soon, the tentacles of age caught hold of him. Devoid of love and care, the once-robust Puff was a nightmarish version of his former self. The lush green mane soon gave way to a dull grey as he became weaker by the day. One day Princess Tiara complained to the King that Puff could no longer breathe the huge rings of fire like before. The King summoned him to the court room for a trial and ordered him to entertain princess Tiara like before. Puff plainly refused to do so, citing his failing health. Even a hundred lashes by the king’s guards couldn’t change his stance. He knew that maybe if he tried a bit, he might be able to blow some fire-rings to satiate the King. But sooner or later, he would have to resign himself to the forces of nature…if only he could make the King understand that.

For failing to heed Princess Tiara’s commands, the King condemned Puff to the gallows. Puff felt as if a load had been lifted off his heart. Finally he would be able to roam about freely among the clouds once again! On his last night of captivity, his friend Jay came to pay the final farewell. “You’re lucky, my friend. You were not a witness to the wanton acts of destruction that the humans have been carrying out. They have decimated our forests, killed the deer for flesh and skin, and have stripped off erstwhile Dracoville of all its resources to convert it into a barren desert. May you find peace in the Heavens.” Singing an elegy on the demise of nature, Jay flew away in to the night. As Puff looked out of the window from the tower, he spotted the moon playing hide-and-seek with the clouds. Just a few more hours before he is set free to be among the clouds again! He was certain not to encounter any more of this vile animal called human in the Heavens, for his father had told him long ago that evil-doers stand no chance to be in the Land of Gods. He sent out a small prayer for the betterment of the world as he fell in to a slumber, hoping to open his eyes in the sanctity of Heavens.

THE SHOWMAN

It’s going to be another long, sleepless night. He stares up at the ceiling. The walls were pasted with bright posters and graffiti but the ceiling was bare. Yet it was the ceiling which supported it all. He got up to gaze up at the inky black sky. Did he want his life to resemble like this? No, but then, no matter how much the so-called motivational speakers rant, some things in life just cannot be decided at your own will. He was the showman, the conjurer, the laugher, the clown. Every day with the rise of the sun he would don his happy mask and step out into a world, where grief & sorrow always seem to gain an upper hand over happiness. A world steeped in hatred, jealousy and violence with no signs of any of those ebbing away in the future. As the sunlight penetrates every nook spreading its warmth, he too mixes with the people hoping to bring a smile on their faces. A man at the outset but still a child at heart, he cracks stupid jokes at which he himself laughs with such mirthfulness that people around him declare—this man knows no sorrows!

Grief is like an isolated iceberg but happiness flows freely like the sea. And he strived to be the harbinger of happiness, at least for other fellow beings. He didn’t care that his jokes may not always be rib-tickling, for he used to complement it with laughter so care free that his friends would always be drenched in its glee. Some made fun of him, mocking him. Any other person would have scorned at and hated those people; he on the contrary smiled back at them. Others thought he had a rhino’s skin, but he knew laughter was the best antidote for any malady. Soon it waned out and steadily those people too were soaked in his happiness. They derived pleasure by pointing out his eccentric and child-like behavior, and he took heart that he had succeeded in making them happy. Ah! He wished to be the sun all throughout his life never realizing that even the sun smolders from within. Like the ‘source of all energy on earth’ he strived to become the ‘source of all happiness’. Aloof in his own realm he notices that the sun is fast setting over the horizon. Darkness comes as a consort of the approaching night and engulfs everything under its shadow. Even though the clock says that both darkness and light are equally divided over a 12 hour span, it’s the former which always seem to linger on in his psyche. His mask of happiness works no more in the blazing darkness as he finds it even more penetrating than the sunshine. Darkness brings with it the lurking shadows of a miserable past. A past speckled with lost hopes and a failed dream which raises its ugly head as soon as it finds him alone. He too savors his solitary moments like anybody else but only when engulfed by the warmth of the sun, not in this icy cold darkness. For in this cold darkness, his tears form icicles which threaten to stab him in the chest. If only he wouldn’t have made those decisions life would have been so less complicated…

He looks out of the window: the crescent moon is in hide-and-seek with the drifting clouds. Sigh! Even the moon is not lonely! He thinks about the person who made him what he is now; even that person is happy in a different world safely passing the night. Suddenly he yearned for those comforting arms that had held him in his past realizing at the same instant that your past, like darkness only leaves you with a feeling of emptiness. If someone saw him now, he would never believe that he is that same joker who makes everyone laugh with his inexhaustible humor. He chuckles to himself thinking about his clever disguise. At times he ponders whether he is right in fooling people like this. He reflects that at least he’s not hurting anyone but only spreading the joy of laughter, unlike his past which compelled him to don the mask in the first place. If only sleep could come and rescue him from these troubled thoughts. Sleep is but then a luxury of the peaceful mind that lives a normal life, not fit for a turbulent mind like his.

He could now see from the corner of his eye the first glimmer of light across the horizon. At last his unfailing friend is here after a long break! It’s time to put on his mask again as he composes himself for yet another day amidst the normal mortals. He glances towards the western sky where the darkness is beating a hasty retreat against the onslaught by the bright rays of the sun. He hopes one day he would finally be able make peace with his past and sleep away into the night because it’s this very hope, like the bare ceiling, which is supporting his life. Till that day arrives, he will go on being the showman and making other people’s sorrows bearable.

GUWAHATI JAM

Blame it on the fact that I had slept through my dinner or that I just had a lovely dream about having jelly beans, but the other day I thought about making jelly. Bearing in mind that I’m a Guwahatian, I decided upon preparing the local flavor called Ghy jelly. Now the problem is, Assam being the land of lahe-lahe with Guwahatians in particular overwhelmingly preferring jam over jelly, I had serious doubts about whether my jelly would be popular among my fellow denizens. At last after much dilly-dallying I resigned myself to vox populi and eventually decided upon making a Ghy jam instead. The recipe for the Ghy jam is as simple as A, B, C; all you need is a person who morphs into a zombie the moment he rev up his vehicle. That person may be a Nobel Laureate or a school dropout doesn’t matter at all, what matters is the unfailing adherence to the motto, “This is MY city, MY road”.  With such a kind of person on the road, the jam is just about ready in a couple of minutes or so. Whenever the roads open up a bit & cars break their usual lahe-lahe pace these zombies come to the city’s rescue by making sure that the jam isn’t spoiled. For doing so, they possess some peculiar tricks at their disposal. All of a sudden they might swerve their vehicles on to the wrong side of the divider or park it in the middle of the road or try driving it while picking up an important call from the US President. That’s all it takes to make the sinister scheme of a few of preparing jelly instead go kaput. As cars keep on stacking one after the other often resembling kilometer long horizontal skyscrapers the zombie at the helm of it all is too humble to accept the honor of being the torch-bearer of such a huge movement. Soon other zombies join him in his efforts by filling up the numerous by-lanes chock-a-block or trying to squeeze in their vehicles between two already standing ones on the road. Any last-minute hitches of spoiling the jam are all but gone now. The zombies save the day once again as they re-establish the usual lahe-lahe norm of the city and help me in preparing a classic Ghy jam. The Ghy jam is very versatile; roundabouts, flyovers, highways, or any other road for that matter can be taken as a medium for preparation. Do not be worried if you hear things like ‘construction of new flyovers to ease jam’ or ‘high level meeting held by the district administration to chalk out a plan for the smooth flow of traffic’. Take my word for it: even if they cover the whole of Guwahati with flyovers or make roads as wide as the Brahmaputra, as long as you have an ample stock of die-hard Guwahati loving zombies you will make a wonderful jam. Personally, I would have preferred jelly because it flows so smoothly and effortlessly but then it’s Guwahati, the city ruled by zombies and till they exist, it’s better to keep my jelly making plans jammed firmly inside my head.

ON AN IMPULSE!

A question to start a thought: how many times have you acted on an impulse? In your life till now, have you ever taken a chance without thinking about the consequences? People grumble that their life is just a monotonous wheel turning about in an endless circle. I say, “Hey! Life’s not a circle!” rather I see it as an open road transitioning from one milestone to another; and even further, if you believe in Karma and ‘life after death’ (which frankly, I don’t) It’s those random roundabouts that you come across along the open road that people assume to be a full circle and keep on rotating about them, never realizing that there’s a tangential road out that leads to more beautiful milestones. I know it’s quite comforting to be the obedient sheep in the flock, blindly following the shepherd and doing exactly what he wants. I’m a sheep alright, but I’m more of the black sheep amongst the herd. Every now and then, I stray out from the herd to experience what’s life on the other edge of the line. What will happen if I eat that particular grass that our shepherd has forbidden us not to? I may die, or I may taste something never tasted by the other fellows!

Now let me transform that philosophical jargon into a real-life incident. If you’re an Indian, you’ll love 15°N-73°E no matter in which part of the country you are now. The only place suitable for an impulse experiment in India is…you got it right, GOA! Goa has something for everybody, including the endangered fickle-minded species that I am. It’s 5 hours from my present abode and you will always find someone or the other from my college in Goa. As such, me & my friends went like normal guys to Goa, did ‘normal’ things out there & were about to return back normally too. But the black sheep in me wasn’t satisfied; normalcy & me, uh-uh. There we were standing, 4 normal guys…err, make that 3 and a half normal guys in the railway station waiting for our train back from Goa. Up comes a train huffing & puffing on the other platform, men and machine both visibly tired from the long journey. India has one of the largest networks of railways criss-crossing the land in a labyrinthine of tracks on which thousands of trains chug daily. All the trains, save the special ones, are drab and not-so-eye-catching and this one was no exception either. The train slowed down to a halt and its engine stopped just a few metres away from where we were sitting.

 

Deep down, I was having some kind of queasy regret at leaving Goa and not having done even one ‘abnormal’ thing according to my standards there. My flitting eyes caught sight of the driver alighting from the engine. Suddenly, the heady cocktail of studying engineering and the black sheep effect kicked in and I wondered,” I have studied about these things in my course, now would be a good time to see how the actual stuff works” I leave my unsuspecting friends behind and set out to satisfy my engineering urge never realizing that it was actually the black sheep in me tempting me to eat that special grass! At first I thought of asking the driver for his kind permission but he had disappeared by the time I reached the engine door. There I was, standing in front of the open door & having second thoughts about entering inside. But then, only sensible people have second thoughts, not persons like me. I looked to my right, then to my left and then to my right again and in less than a minute hopped on inside the train engine. Visuals of man landing on the moon & climbing the Mt. Everest started flashing before my eyes as I felt an excitement akin to those great men. I scanned the engine compartment as if I had stumbled upon some valuable treasure, noting that trains actually have three levels of brakes and many small controls like that in an airplane.

 

I was carrying out my survey with great zeal when some random noise distracted me from outside. As I looked out the window, the reality struck me. Some men were ordering me to come down in a no-nonsense tone. Looking yonder, I could see Railway Protection Force (RPF) personnel taking positions behind some shrubs. I came down, my mind numb with all that was happening in such a fast paced sequence. The pictures of those conquerors faded away from my eyes as I was now visualizing myself more and more like those terrorists with AK’s in their hands. Lucky heavens for me, rather than being shot dead or jailed, I just received a stern scolding from those men with one of them even lecturing me on how a responsible citizen like me should behave. I was about to retort back saying,” Dude, its Goa!” but thankfully kept my mouth zipped. From the corner of my eye I could see my brave friends watching the entire episode from a safe distance. I can’t blame them; after all, none of us had ever encountered RPF men in our lives before. The person to whom I had only ‘thought’ of retorting back must have been a mind reader, for he spoke The Last Word that I remember till today,” For the time being you can leave, but if in the next 48 hours any train meets with an accident, then you’ll be called in for interrogation.” His words whirred in my mind like a dust storm and were finally able to stir up the sleeping bells of sense left in my mind. For the next two days or so, my only job was to pore over the daily newspaper searching for any train accident or my name in any of the most-wanted terrorist lists. Thankfully, nothing worthwhile happened and after about a couple of months or so I was finally able to convince myself that the R&AW was not monitoring me for terrorist activities.

 

I know what you’re thinking about me—that I’m a lunatic. On hindsight, you’re partly right in your dissertation. But then, I’m the black sheep, remember? I acted on my own impulse, did my own thing and ate the forbidden grass. So what if the shepherd caught me in the act? I was able to eat something that has never been tasted by the other fellows and I will cherish that memory all my life. This should be a wake-up call for the people: stop running around in circles. Hit the open road and join me on this wonderful road trip called life!

 

Thus, I ask you again…have you done anything on an impulse yet?

IT HAPPENED BY THE SEA

PEOPLE BELIEVE THAT THE GREATEST LOVE STORIES ARE FOUND IN THE CLASSICS LIKE ROMEO & JULIET OR IN THE HALLOWED MINARETS OF THE TAJ MAHAL. ADMIST THE GLIMMER OF THESE MAN-MADE EPITOMES, THEY OFTEN FAIL TO NOTICE THE SUBTLE SIGNS OF LOVE THAT NATURE SENDS OUT IN WAYS AS SIMPLE AS LOVE’S ITSELF. THE INTERPLAY BETWEEN THE WAVE AND THE SAND IS YET ANOTHER SIMPLE YET PROFOUND TALE FROM THE WOMB OF NATURE. I SOMETIMES SNEAK OUT TO THE BEACH JUST TO GAZE AT THEIR COURTSHIP IN SOLITUDE.

IN THE MYRIAD OF WAVES APPROACHING FROM THE HORIZON, TRY SINGLING OUT ONE AND OBSERVE ITS VARIOUS SHADES. THE WEARY WAVE HAS TRAVELLED FOR LONG, CROSSING THE GULF, MINGLING WITH THE BIG STREAMS, TOSSING & TURNING, ALL IN THE FOND HOPE OF EMBRACING THE SAND. HE HAD MADE A PROMISE TO HER IN THE DISTANT PAST THAT ONE DAY THEY WILL MEET AGAIN. SINCE THEN, THE SAND HASN’T MOVED FROM THE SHORELINE. EVERY NIGHT AND DAY, SHE WAITS BY THE SEA TO CATCH A GLIMPSE OF HER WAVE. HIGH TIDE, LOW TIDE, THE VICIOUS MONSOON STORMS, NOTHING CAN DETER HER. SHE HAS AND WILL WAIT FOR HIM EVEN IF IT TAKES AN ETERNITY, FOR SHE HAS LEARNT FROM NATURE THE MOST VALUABLE TREASURE OF LOVE— THAT OF UNFATHOMABLE PATIENCE AND UNWAVERING FAITHFULNESS.

SIGH! IT IS A TRAGEDY THAT SOMETHING AS SIMPLE AS LOVE IS ALWAYS DISTORTED BY THE COMPLEXITIES OF LIFE. THE WAVE, A MEAGRE SPECK IN THE HUGE BOTTOMLESS OCEAN, TRIES TO HOLD STILL AND REMAIN AFLOAT. HE IS AT THE MERCY OF THE OCEAN, A BODY SO VAST THAT NO ONE KNOWS WHERE IT BEGINS AND WHERE IT ENDS. SURE HE CAN, AT ANY MOMENT, CALL IT QUITS AND RETURN BACK TO HIS BELOVED. BUT HE IS NO ESCAPIST AND KNOWS HIS RESPONSIBILITIES WELL. LIFE GOES ON & HE SAILS FARTHER AND FARTHER AWAY FROM HER. ON SILENT NIGHTS, HE WOULD LOOK UP AT THE MOON, SENDING OUT A SILENT PRAYER AND REAFFIRMING ALL THE PROMISES HE HAD MADE TO HER. IN NATURE EVERYTHING COMES AROUND IN A FULL CIRCLE. AT THE END OF ALL THE TRIALS AND TRIBULATIONS, IT WAS TIME FOR HIM TO SET OUT ON HIS JOURNEY BACK HOME. TUGGED ALONG BY THE KINDLY MOONLIGHT, HE PACED UP HIS STEPS WITH RENEWED VIGOR. THE WAVE SURGED AND SURGED, ALL SET FOR THE YONDER COASTLINE.

SHE HAS STOOD THERE ALL THIS TIME, UNFAZED BY ALL THE ODDITIES. SHE MIGHT BE FRAIL AND WORN OUT NOW, BUT HER HEART STILL REVERBERATES WITH SAME STRONG EMOTION OF SEEING HIM ONCE AGAIN. IT WAS A CALM, FULL MOON NIGHT WITH THE WIND BLOWING JUST STRONGLY ENOUGH TO STIR THE LEAVES BUT NOT WAKE THEM UP FROM THEIR NIGHTLY DREAMS. TIP-TOEING ACROSS THE SEA, HE REACHES THE COAST TO IMMERSE HIS EYES WITH HER SIGHT THAT HE HAD BEEN LONGING FOR ALL THESE YEARS. FAST ASLEEP IN THE LULLABY OF THE WIND, SHE GLITTERED LIKE A DIAMOND IN THE BLUE MOONLIGHT. HE GOES UP TO HER AND TOUCHES HER WITH HIS FEATHERED HANDS, GENTLY CARESSING HER. HOW MANY SLEEPLESS NIGHTS HE HAD SPENT JUST FOR RELIVING THIS MOMENT! THE WAVE LINGERS AROUND, SILENTLY ADMIRING HER. BUT AS SOON AS THE DRY SAND WAKES UP TO THE TOUCH OF THE WAVES, HE IS PULLED BACK BY THE SEA. HE DOESN’T PROTEST, FOR HE KNOWS THAT THE TIDE MUST GO ON. SHE OPENS HER EYES AS THE WAVE SILENTLY RECEDES BACK TO THE SEA. SHE KNEW HE WAS THERE; SHE CAN STILL FEEL HIS GENTLE SMILE OVER HER. SHE ALSO UNDERSTANDS HIS COMPULSIONS AND LOOKING OUT, SMILES FONDLY TOWARDS THE SEA, KNOWING THAT HE IS OUT THERE SOMEWHERE. POSSIBLY AFTER ANOTHER ETERNITY THE WAVE WILL RETURN BACK TO HIS SAND, BUT THEN WHO CAN FORECAST ABOUT THE WHIMS OF THE SEA? HE MIGHT BE CARRIED FAR, FAR AWAY WITH THE CURRENT, MAYBE MEETING FELLOW WAVES ON THE WAY OR MAYBE BEING SWALLOED UP BY A LARGER WAVE. SHE RESTS HER FAITH ON NATURE BECAUSE ONE DAY THERE WILL BE ANOTHER FULL CIRCLE, AND THE WAVE MIGHT COME BACK AGAIN TO MEET HER.

PERHAPS LOVE DOESN’T ALWAYS MEAN THE ACTUAL MEETING OF TWO SOULS. LOVE SOMETIMES PERSONIFIES SACRIFICE, AND AT TIMES TEACHES SOMEONE ENTANGLED IN THE COBWEB OF LIFE MANY A LESSON. IT IS QUARTER TO ONE AS I MAKE MY WAY BACK FROM THE BEACH. AS I LOOK UP, I SEE THE MOON SHINING BRIGHT. MAYBE THE MOON IS TUGGING ME ALONG TOO, TO WHOM AND TO WHERE, I DON’T KNOW. I CAN TAKE SOLACE IN THE FACT THAT AT LEAST THE MOON KNOWS THAT FOR SURE, AND SAILING ALONG THE SEA, I TOO SHALL REACH MY SHORE SOME DAY…

LOVE…OR MAYBE NOT

LOVE & FRIENDSHIP. THESE TWO WORDS CAN NEVER BE INTERMINGLED TOGETHER. I BELIEVE THERE’S AN OCEAN OF RELATIONS BETWEEN THESE 2 POLES HAVING A VARYING ESSENCE OF BOTH OF THEM. SOMEHOW, LIFE DROPPED ME IN THAT OCEAN, AND SINCE THEN I HAVE BEEN TRYING TO MAKE UP MY MIND AS TO WHICH SHORE SHOULD I HEAD OUT FOR. OR RATHER, ON WHICH SHORE WOULD I BE ABLE TO LAND SAFELY? THAT’S THE BEST POSSIBLE SCENARIO I CAN PROJECT TO EXPLAIN MY RELATIONSHIP WITH LOYA.

 

IT IS OFTEN SHOWN IN MOVIES THAT TWO GOOD FRIENDS END UP BEING GOOD LOVERS TOO. BUT SOMETIMES, THEY JUST END UP IN THE VACUUM BETWEEN THE TWO POLES. I MET LOYA BY CHANCE AND NOT ON INTENTION. SHE WAS THE GIRL-FRIEND OF ONE OF MY BEST BUDDIES OF MY SCHOOL DAYS. THEY WERE THE MOST TALKED ABOUT COUPLE IN MY SCHOOL AND EVEN ELSEWHERE. PEOPLE THOUGHT THAT BEING THE MOST FAMOUS COUPLE ALSO MEANT THE MOST COMPATIBLE. HOWEVER, THEIR INNER CIRCLE OF FRIENDS INCLUDING ME KNEW BETTER. ALL COUPLES QUARREL, BUT THERE WERE SOME SERIOUS PROBLEMS BREWING UP BETWEEN THE TWO. LOOKING BACK, I REALISE THAT THE ONLY ASPECT WHICH DIFFERENTIATED ME FROM THE REST WAS THAT I TRIED TO MAINTAIN AN IMPARTIAL OUTLOOK OVER THEIR QUARRELS. WHEREAS ALL THE OTHERS WERE EITHER BIASED TOWARDS LOYA OR AGAINST HER, NO MATTER WHO WAS RIGHT.EVERYBODY KNEW THAT HER BOY-FRIEND WAS OF A SHIFTING NATURE; THE POPULAR GUY IN THE BATCH, WHO ALWAYS TRIED TO FLIRT WITH EVERY OTHER GIRL HE SET HIS EYES UPON EVEN WHEN BEING IN A RELATIONSHIP. IN THOSE DAYS HE WAS ONE OF MY CLOSEST FRIENDS AND WE SHARED MANY A FLIRTING MOMENT TOGETHER, BUT I DIDN’T APPROVE OF HIS ATTITUDE TOWARDS RELATIONSHIPS. OFTEN I USED TO TELL HIM, “LOOK MAN, FLIRTING IS FINE… BUT ONLY UPTO A CERTAIN EXTENT. BESIDES, DON’T FORGET THAT YOU’RE IN A RELATIONSHIP, AND SHE LOVES YOU A LOT”. HE’D ALWAYS LAUGH IT OFF, “I KNOW SHE DOES! AND SHE AIN’T GOING ANYWHERE. SO, WHAT’S THE HARM IN HAVING A LITTLE FUN?” PERHAPS THAT’S WHAT DRIFTED US APART; BOTH IN TERMS OF PERSONALITY AND LATER, FROM OUR BOND OF FRIENDSHIP.

 

HE WAS NO DOUBT THE NUMERO UNO IN FLIRTING, BUT I WASN’T TOO FAR BEHIND EITHER! INFACT, PEOPLE CONSIDERED ME AS THE SECOND-IN-COMMAND IN THE GAME OF LOVE. I WON’T DENY THAT COMPLETELY, BUT THERE WERE MORE FACETS TO ME THAN WHAT IS SEEN ON THE SURFACE. I HAD RESOLVED THAT NO MATTER HOW MANY GIRLS I FLIRT WITH, IF AND WHEN IT CAME TO A RELATIONSHIP, I WOULD BE ABSOLUTELY FAITHFUL TO MY GIRL. I BELIEVE THAT SOME FEELINGS ARE MEANT TO BE SINCERE AND EVERLASTING. SILLY OF HIM, HE NEVER REALISED THAT GIRLS ARE TOO POSSESSIVE TO NOT MIND SEEING THEIR LOVED ONE ROMANCING WITH ANOTHER GIRL. PEOPLE CONSIDERED ME AS THE SECOND-IN-COMMAND IN THE GAME OF LOVE. WHAT MANY DIDN’T KNOW WAS THAT I HAD HELD THAT POSITION IN MORE ASPECTS THAN ONE. EMOTIONALISM IS INHERENTLY IN THE GENES OF GIRLS AND IN LOYA THAT WAS THE MOST DOMINANT CHARACTERISTIC; IT WAS AS WELL THE THING HE UNDERVALUED THE MOST IN HER. SO, WHEN IT CAME UPON HIM TO CHOOSE A GIFT FOR HER BIRTHDAY, TO BUY CORNER TICKETS FOR A MOVIE, TO ‘MANAGE’ HER WHEN HE WAS BUSY WITH SOMEBODY ELSE, TO COMFORT HER DURING THEIR INNUMERABLE QUARRELS, I WAS THE ONE– THE SECOND-IN-COMMAND. THINGS CAME TO SUCH AN EXTENT THAT I HAD TO REMIND HIM OF THEIR ANNIVERSARY AND BUY A GIFT FOR HIM. IT SEEMED AS IF I DID ALL THE GROUNDWORK AND HE WAS THE ONE ENJOYING THE BENEFITS. A FRIEND IN NEED IS A FRIEND INDEED. I INDEED BECAME ONE OF HIS CLOSEST FRIENDS BUT DIDN’T REALISE AT THAT TIME THAT I WOULD HAVE TO PAY HEAVILY FOR THAT FRIENDSHIP. TO THIS DAY I’M NOT SURE WHY I DID ALL THOSE FAVOURS FOR HIM. MAYBE BECAUSE I DIDN’T WANT TO SEE LOYA SAD AND HEART BROKEN, BUT ON HINDSIGHT I KNEW THAT UNKNOWINGLY I HAD PLAYED THE ROLE OF AN ACCOMPLICE IN DECEIVING HER. THE RUMOUR MONGERS, WHO WERE BETTER THAN SHERLOCK HOLMES IN PICKING UP A CLUE, SOMEHOW GOT THE HINT THAT I HAD FALLEN FOR HER. THANKFULLY HE DIDN’T MUCH BOTHER ABOUT SUCH RUMOURS. GIRL FRIEND STEALERS WAS THE WORST CATEGORY OF SOCIAL STRATA FOR A GUY. THEY WERE THE OUTCASTS, THE SOCIALLY & MENTALLY DECREPIT LOT, AND WERE COMPARED WITH VULTURES WHO’D ALWAYS SWOOP DOWN ON EASY PREY. I FOR ONE NEVER WANTED MY NAME AMONG THOSE VULTURES AND SO MENTALLY SHRUGGED OFF THE MERE IDEA OF HAVING ANY FEELINGS FOR LOYA. ALAS! THE HEART IS A MYSTERIOUS AND UNTAMED BEAST! AS HE BECAME MORE AND MORE OF A WOMANIZER, EVEN SECRETLY PROPOSING TO ANOTHER GIRL, I SOMEHOW FOUND MYSELF MORE AND MORE CLOSE TO HER. I KNEW HER LITTLE SECRETS, HER FEARS; WE SHARED THE SAME SENSE OF HUMOUR, THE LATE NIGHT CALLS, AND THE MISSED CALLS! , SINGING SONGS OVER THE PHONE, THE FREQUENT TRIPS TO THE MALLS, TO THE PARK, TO HER HOUSE… ALL EVENTUALLY COMPELLED ME TO GET SMITTEN WITH HER. ADMIST THIS DIFFICULT PERIOD OF EMOTIONAL TURMOIL, MY BRAIN STOOD STEADFAST ON ITS IDEALS. THE MERE THOUGHT OF BEING BRANDED A “GIRL FRIEND STEALER” PULLED ME BACK TO THE GROUND. PRETTY SOON MY BRAIN AND MY HEART WERE AT LOGGERHEADS AND I STARTED LIVING A LIFE OF DUAL PERSONALITIES. SECRETLY I STARTED PINING FOR HER AND THE WORSE PART OF IT ALL WAS THAT I COULDN’T SHARE MY FEELNGS WITH EVEN A SINGLE PERSON CLOSE TO ME. EVEN TODAY I CURSE MYSELF FOR THAT MOMENT OF FOOLISHNESS: ONE FINE MORNING I WOKE UP AND DECIDED THAT THE TIME HAD COME TO TAKE A DECISIVE ACTION. AND GUESS WHAT? MY BRAIN WON THE BATTLE. PERHAPS THE PARANOIA OF BEING RELEGATED AS AN OUTCAST WAS TOO FORBIDDING FOR ME TO LISTEN TO THE SINCERE VOICES OF MY HEART.

 

YEARS ROLLED BY, BUT EVERYTHING REMAINED THE SAME. OR SO IT SEEMED TO ME. HIGH SCHOOL ENDED AND IT WAS TIME FOR US TO PART WAYS IN SEARCH OF OUR GOALS. I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE A GOOD OPPORTUNITY FOR ME TO BURY THE PAST AND MOVE ON WITH MY LIFE. SENSING THIS, MY BRAIN PROMPTLY TOOK CONTROL. BEING THE IDEALIST, IT FORCED ME TO CONCENTRATE ON SUPPOSEDLY MORE CONCRETE OBJECTIVES IN LIFE. MY FEELINGS FOR LOYA TOOK A BACK SEAT. THE DAILY CALLS SLOWLY BECAME MONTHLY “HI, HOW ARE YOU?”S TILL A TIME CAME WHEN WE KNEW ABOUT EACH OTHER ONLY THROUGH OUR MUTUAL FRIENDS. BESIDES, HE AND LOYA WERE STILL TOGETHER AND I DIDN’T SEE ANY LOGIC IN GIVING VENT TO MY SECRET EMOTIONS.

 

I STILL REMEMBER THE CLEAR, STARRY NIGHT OF MAY. IT WAS 2:35 AM AND I LAY TOSSING ABOUT IN MY BED, UNABLE TO FALL ASLEEP. AS IF TO ADD FUEL TO MY STATE OF WAKEFULNESS, MY CELL PHONE STARTED BUZZING. IN THE BLUE MOONLIGHT LOYA’S FACE IN THE CALL WINDOW SEEMED LIKE AN ANGEL FROM THE HEAVENS. I HASTILY PICKED IT UP, EXPECTING NOTHING OUT OF THE BLUE. “HI MANISH, I NEED TO TELL YOU SOMETHING. I BROKE UP WITH HIM TODAY”. SHE PUT IT SO PLAINLY THAT AT FIRST I THOUGHT I MUST BE HALLUCINATING. BUT THEN CAME THE TEMPEST. LIKE WATER GUSHING OUT OF A BREACHED DYKE, HER TEARS SWELLED AND SHE STARTED CRYING HER HEART OUT OVER THE LINE. IT WASHED AWAY MY BRAIN’S IMPENETRABLE WALLS OF HOLLOW IDEALISM AND MADE ALL MY YEARS OF PAINSTAKING CARE NOT TO HURT HER NULL & VOID. I WAS JUST ABLE TO UTTER A “WHY?”AT THE SAME TIME KNOWING FULL WELL WHAT MIGHT BE THE REASON. LOYA WAS AN ANGEL WHO LIVED IN HER OWN WONDERLAND WHERE EVERYTHING WAS BEAUTIFUL AND ROSY. HER WORLD HAD NO PLACE FOR A CASANOVA LIKE HIM. BUT FATE PLAYED AN EVIL TRICK ON HER AND SENT HIM AS HER PRINCE CHARMING. AND IN THE PAST 5 YEARS, SHE HAD WOVEN HER FAIRY TALE AROUND HIM. MY BRAIN WAS AN IDEALIST NO DOUBT, BUT LOYA LIVED ENTIRELY IN AN IDEALIST WORLD. IN HER WORLD, THE PRINCE CHARMING CAN NEVER DECEIVE HER. SO, WHEN REAL-WORLD PEOPLE STARTED TELLING HER STORIES OF HIS MISADVENTURES, SHE REFUSED TO BELIEVE THEM. CASTLES MADE ON SAND ARE BOUND TO BE WASHED AWAY AND LOYA’S WONDERLAND SLOWLY STARTED FALLING APART. BREAK-UPS ARE HARD TIMES FOR EVERYBODY BUT FOR AN ANGEL IT MEANT THE SHATTERING OF HER DREAMS AND EVERYTHING ELSE SHE HAD HELD SO CLOSE TO HER HEART.

 

I WAS THE ONLY ONE WHO KNEW EVERY BIT OF THEIR ‘LOVE’ STORY AS WELL AS BOTH OF THEM SO CLOSELY. I SPECTATED AS SHE WOVE HER FAIRY TALE ONLY TO TEAR IT ALL APART. I HATED SEEING HER SAD, AND YET HELPED HIM IN CAUSING MISERY TO HER. EARLIER I USED TO DISAPPROVE OF HIS ACTIONS, THAT DAY I STARTED DESPISING HIM THE MOST. SHE EXPECTED NOTHING FROM HIM BUT LOVE WHICH HE BLATANTLY FAILED TO UNDERSTAND. IF ONLY HE WOULD HAVE LOVED HER TRULY AND WAS THERE FOR HER WHEN SHE NEEDED HIM, SHE WOULDN’T HAVE BEEN HEART BROKEN AND I WOULD HAVE REMAINED JUST A FRIEND AND NOTHING ELSE.BY BREAKING HER HEART HE NOT ONLY SHATTERED HER WONDERLAND BUT ALSO IN THE PROCESS FILLED MY HEART WITH A STINGING PAIN AND DEEP ANGUISH.  I ACTED LIKE A COWARD WHO COULDN’T MUSTER THE STRENGTH TO TELL HER THE TRUTH. AND YET AS I PONDER OVER THE DECISION, I TRY TO FORSEE THE CONSEQUENCES OF MY ACTION. WHAT IF SHE HAD REFUSED TO BELIEVE ME AND DISTANCED HERSELF AWAY FROM ME? I WOULD HAVE BEEN CRESTFALLEN FOR I NEVER WANTED OUR FRIENDSHIP TO BREAK. THERE WAS ALSO THE POSSIBILITY OF PEOPLE POINTING FINGERS AT ME ACCUSING ME OF TRYING TO BREAK A RELATIONSHIP. ALL THESE FEARS KEPT ME FROM SHOWING HER THE REAL PICTURE AND IN ORDER TO BE CLOSER TO HER, I WENT ON BEING AN ACCOMPLICE IN THE GAME OF DECEPTION. I HOPED SOMEDAY SHE WOULD SEE THE REALITY BUT I GUESS EVEN I WASN’T READY FOR THE FALLOUT. BRUISED AND BROKEN, THE TRANSITION FROM A FAIRYTALE TO THE STARK REALITY DEEPLY AFFECTED HER. LOYA WAS NO LONGER THE ANGEL THAT I KNEW. ONCE BITTEN, TWICE SHY, HER BELIEF IN LOVE WITHERED AWAY AFTER THE BREAK-UP. SHE OFTEN USED TO WAKE UP IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT WITH TEARS IN HER EYES. I WAS ALWAYS THERE FOR HER, COMFORTING HER AND WIPING AWAY HER TEARS. I WANTED TO BE MUCH MORE THAN A FRIEND FOR HER, YET I HESITATED IN TAKING THE FINAL STEP. THE COWARD IN ME HIGHLIGHTED THE CONS MUCH MORE THAN THE PROS. I FOUND MYSELF ENTRAPPED IN THE LOVE-FRIENDSHIP DILLEMMA.

 

SOON, THE FINAL CURTAINS WERE DRAWN. LOYA OBTAINED A SCHOLARSHIP AND WAS TO IMMIGRATE TO THE STATES IN A WEEK’S TIME. THE REVELATION OF NOT SEEING HER STRUCK ME AT THE ELEVENTH HOUR. I HAD TO TELL HER. BUT WHAT? I COULD HAVE TOLD HER THAT I CARED FOR HER MORE THAN A FRIEND. BUT WHAT EXACT RELATION DID THAT MEANT I KNEW NOT. I COULD HAVE TOLD HER THAT I LOVED HER. BUT WHY AT THIS MOMENT? WHY DID I WAIT FOR 8 YEARS TO TELL HER? AGAIN, I WAS FOUND SEARCHING FOR ANSWERS. THE WEEK ENDED IN THE BLINK OF AN EYE AND STILL THE FLUCTUATIONS WERE GOING ON THROUGH MY MIND. ON THE DAY OF HER DEPARTURE, I CAME TO SEE HER OFF AT THE AIRPORT. I HAD PLAYED THE ROLE OF A FRIEND FOR SO LONG A TIME THAT EVEN I STOPPED SEEING MYSELF IN ANOTHER ROLE FOR HER.

 

“I’M GOING TO MISS YOU”, I HUGGED HER AND SAID.

 

“I WISH YOU WOULD HAVE DONE MORE THAN THAT…BYE MANISH”, SHE STARED AT ME FOR SOME TIME, PERHAPS SEARCHING FOR AN ANSWER WHICH I MYSELF DIDN’T HAVE.

 

AFTER ABOUT A QUARTER OF AN HOUR; HER FLIGHT TOOK OFF FOR THE STATES.

 

LOYA HAS BEEN GONE FOR 2 YEARS NOW, NEVER TO RETURN. SHE HASN’T CONTACTED ME SINCE THEN, AND I DON’T EVEN HAVE THE ZIP CODE OF THE PLACE SHE LIVES. TO THIS DAY I HAVE NEVER KNOWN WHETHER I REALLY LOVED HER OR SHE WAS JUST A FRIEND. BUT I SURE WOULD LOVE TO MEET HER AGAIN… AS BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN PUTS IT,”ON A SUNNY MORNING…MEET YOU FURTHER ON UP THE ROAD”.

L_M_A_O!!

AJESH—THE OIL MAN FROM DUBAI. BASICALLY A MALLU WHO FORGOT TO BRING HIS LUNGI TO INDIA AND SO WEARS A JEANS & OTHER NORMAL (ABNORMAL FOR HIM) CLOTHES. DOESN’T KNOW A SHIT OF HINDI AND SO CALLS EVERYONE, EVEN GIRLS “DUDE!!” IS TRYING TO LEARN PUNJABI BUT…WELL, YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENS WHEN A MALLU TRIES TO LEARN PUNJABI!

ME—PEOPLE CALL ME THE UNDISPUTED KING OF PJ’s. AN EXPERT MANIPULATOR WHO CAN TURN ANY NORMAL LOOKING SENTENCE INTO SOMETHING GROSSLY OBNOXIOUS. HEY, I ONLY TRY TO APPLY LOGIC TO OTHER PEOPLE’S SENTENCES AND OPINIONS! NEVERTHELESS PEOPLE STANDING NEAR ME SOON START BANGING THEIR HEADS ON THE DESKS AND START PULLING THEIR HAIR OUT. I GUESS THEY DON’T HAVE ANYTHING ELSE TO BANG 😉

ANISH—THE PUNJAB da PUTTER. THE OYE HOYE MAN WITH THE LOOKS OF HAN-COCK. IS CRAZY ABOUT HONEY SINGH AND HIS HAIR? SOMEHOW HE ALWAYS SEEMS TO AGREE WITH BOTH ME AND AJESH, WHICH IS PRACTICALLY NOT POSSIBLE BECAUSE ‘MY FRIEND’ AJESH AND I NEVER AGREE WITH EACH OTHER. AFTERALL HOW CAN I? HE’S ‘A MY FRIEND’ YOU SEE!

 

THE TOPIC OF INTENSE DISCUSSION WAS WHETHER WE SHOULD ATTEND THE AFTERNOON MATHS CLASS OR GO BACK TO OUR ROOMS AND TAKE THE MUCH SOUGHT-AFTER NAP. SINCE WE HAVE A 75% GAG IN OUR ABSENCES LIMIT, FAILING WHICH WE SHALL HAVE TO SIT THE ENTIRE SUMMER HOLIDAYS IN THE SAME SUBJECT AGAIN, THE ISSUE WAS FAR MORE IMPORTANT THAN RISING OIL PRICES OR WORLD PEACE! ANYWAYS, THE ISSUE DRAGGED ON & WAS GOING NOWHERE. WE WERE JUST DEBATING AND COUNTER-DEBATING IT OVER AND OVER AGAIN. I AT ONCE CAME TO THE RESCUE AND APPLIED MY FAMED LOGIC POWER.

 

ANISH—ARREY SHE’S A FEMALE TEACHER YAAR! DON’T WORRY SHE WON’T OBJECT AND WILL EXCUSE US! AT LEAST SHE’S NOT LIKE THAT ARROGANT PROF OF THE ‘ROYAL’ DEPT.

AJESH—CHUTIYE! DUDE ‘I AM THE CR’ AND I BET SHE WILL BE THE FIRST ONE TO DETAIN US IN CASE SUCH A SCENARIO ARISES. ‘I AM THE CR’ ‘I AM THE CR’ ‘I AM THE CR’ ‘I AM THE CR’… SAYS IT FOR A COUPLE OF MORE TIMES… SHE IS VERY STRICT DUDE!

ANISH—OH! YOU MIGHT BE RIGHT…NOW WHAT DO WE DO?

ME (I HAVE TO DISAGREE WITH AJESH, SO I APPLY MY LOGIC)—DON’T WORRY YAAR! YUP ANISH, AFTER ALL SHE’S A FEMALE TEACHER. A FEMALE! SO SHE MUST BE HAVING ‘MA KI MAMTA’ AND SINCE WE ARE LITTLE KIDS SHE WILL FORGIVE US. CHILL MAADI!

ANISH—OYE SAHI BOL RAHA HAIN BHAI…

AJESH (HE DOESN’T KNOW A SHIT OF HINDI, AND SO DOESN’T KNOW WHAT IN HELL DOES ‘MAMTA’ MEANS. BUT HE WILL HAVE TO CONTRADICT ME, AND SO BLURTS OUT THE BEST POSSIBLE SYNONYM (?!!) FOR ‘MAMTA’)—DUDE! I DON’T CARE IF SHE HAS MAMTA OR BOOBIES OR NEITHER OF THEM! I AM GOING TO THE CLASS AND THAT’S FINAL…

ANISH—OYE…BOL NITHARI, KYA KAREGA AB…

ME—WTF! DID YOU JUST SAY MAMTA OR BOOBIES?!! <I FALL TO THE GROUND LAUGHING>

ANISH—OYE! <FALLS TO THE GROUND LAUGHING>

AJESH (REALISING THAT HE HAS FUCKED UP SOMETHING, AGAIN, BUT STILL DOESN’T GET WHY THE HELL WE ARE LAUGHING)—DUDE!!

 

 

NOTE—

  • CHILL MAADI—MAADI IS IN KANNADA, BUT YOU HAVE TO BE IN MANIPAL TO UNDERSTAND THE MEANING OF CHILL MAADI!
  • NITHARI—ONE OF MY MANY NAMES, OBVIOUSLY REFERRING TO THE INFAMOUS NITHARI KILLINGS. BUT TILL TODAY MY INNOCENT MIND FAILS TO UNDERSTAND WHY ANISH CALLS ME NITHARI.
  • CR—CLASS REPRESENTATIVE. “ONE WHO CO-ORDINATES THE ACTIVITIES IN THE CLASS AND REPRESENTS IT INFRONT OF THE TEACHERS”. CONSIDERING AJESH IS OUR CR, WE CAN SURMISE WHAT KIND OF A PERSON THE CR ACTUALLY IS.
  • MAMTA—ACTUALLY MEANS MOTHERLY LOVE. BUT WITH PEOPLE LIKE AJESH AROUND, ANYTHING CAN HAPPEN. SO WATCH OUT BEFORE YOU SPEAK HINDI!
  • THE LANGUAGE OF THE ABOVE MENTIONED INCIDENT IS VERY COARSE. READERS’ DISCRETION IS ADVISED. LANGUAGE PURISTS PLEASE STAY OUT OTHERWISE I WILL HAVE TO APPLY MY LOGIC ON YOU ALL.