Monday, September 22, 2008

The Protected Eyes

It was that time of the day when the sun wanted to embrace you for the rest of the day. Some of its rays were peeping through a huge boundless tree. He was sitting there. He was reading a book. His face said that he liked the book. The sounds of birds and squirrels on the huge tree and the voices of children accompanied his excursion towards the next page. He was reading a book on travelling.

Travelling fascinated him. He loved to explore new places, new people, new cultures, new perspectives, new sounds, and new visions. His dream was to go on a world tour. His mother thought that it wasn’t possible. In fact she used to always laugh on him saying, “Why do you need to travel? It’ll be of no use.” His mother loved him a lot. She was very protective of him. He loved her too. His father had died 8 years ago in a car accident. He wasn’t a very loving person. He used to keep to himself most of the time. His father seemed like a person who had no dreams. He used to be awed by his father whenever he was around. Being their only child, contrary to perceptions, he had no responsibilities. He always used to paint himself as a free bird.

He liked painting too. He loved the fact that by holding a brush in your hands and smearing it with life of any colour, one could transform an empty sheet into a world of your own. Once, he had drawn a tower alongside a river and titled it ‘The Eiffel Tower- As I See It’. His mother was astonished to see such an accurate image of a place which she and her son hadn’t visited even once. One fine day, when both of them were sitting in the balcony and chatting about their neighbors and the weather, he decided to paint her picture. She initially was reluctant, but, later agreed for it. He told her to not to pose and do whatever she feels like. After an hour, when she saw the painting, she made a disagreeing face. She told him to draw a line at a point. He asked, “What was missing?” She replied, “A smile.”

He didn’t have many friends. He had tried to build some relationships, but most of the people were irresponsive. They thought he was a strange character. The reason behind that is that he is a dreamer. He loved to create dreams for himself, for his mother, for his father and for people he didn’t know. Dreams always seemed like a mystery story to him; or like an unlocked treasure box. He thought he had the key to that box. He thought he already knew the end to that mystery, whereas he’d never conceived a beginning. 2 years ago, on his father’s birthday, he was dreaming for him. A man who could have led a perfect life, only if he wouldn’t have been so engrossed in his thoughts that night. A man who could have seen his wife’s painting his son had made. A man who could have been a part of the future his son had often dreamed for him. A man who could have helped his son make friends.

He held the leaf in his hand which had grown out of the tree’s shadow and wanted to explore the world. He made the leaf his bookmark. He heard a familiar sound coming towards him. The occupant of that familiar sound was a friend of his, who he had met 5 years ago in a park like this, who did not find him strange, and who found solace in his company. He had always thought her to be a lonely child. She greeted him and asked him what he was doing. He said “nothing, just thinking about you.” She said in a surprised tone, “about me? What were you thinking about me?” He replied, “Well I was just thinking how I have been provided shelter throughout my life…by my mother…my father…by nature…by my dreams…and by you. I haven’t seen anything in the past 10 years. I can’t. But people around me have protected me and guided me. It’s wonderful, isn’t it?” She said, “Yes, it is indeed.” And he continued reading the book. And she just stared at him, trying to seek shelter in him and his world.

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

The Rain Drop's Self Esteem

It was a busy street that morning. A very crowded one. Astonishingly, everybody could find some space to nestle themselves. It seemed that the world was a sea and everybody had a boat to travel in. We don't know each other personally. We see each other every other wet day. But somehow we never get the time to stop and talk. It has always been like this.

So this fateful day, I managed to halt at an unknown place. I saw others over there. Some of them were dancing. Some were singing. Some were playing. Some were talking. This place is heaven, I thought. People from our community don't even bother to look at each other. I went ahead and danced with the dancing group, but they laughed at me as I couldn't flow to their rhythm. I went and joined the singing group, but they rejected me, as I couldn't sing their sound.

I wore a sad expression. I began to walk backwards to my community. I felt low and unhappy. "Cheeeeeese", a happy face screamed. And just then, something flashed and winked at me. That happened again, and again, and again. The happy face looked happier and satisfied. So I thought, "Hey, I can't dance, I can't sing; but I can pose for the winking machine!"

I became the talk of the town, including my community. Yes, they started talking to each other. A new group thus came into place called The Wink and Pose Group. And I am the leader of that group.

Wednesday, June 4, 2008

Life of a Running Mind

She was running. In fact, she was heavily panting. Profuse drops of sweat ran on her neck, her back. Her legs were tired. Her mind was still active, though. She had a 22-year-old body which, fortunately, was vigilantly in touch with her mind. She was running straight. She kept in mind not to disturb or hurt any entity during her journey. She had a goal to follow the straight path, and follow the road. Sometimes she felt like changing her track and taking a turn, but her mind did not permit her since Home was close. She did not want them to know her act of disobedience. So she did what was expected of her.

Since her early years, she had been told the do's and don'ts of living. Her parents told her to do what her elder brother did. Her elder sibling did what the parents said. She did not want to be a puppet crafted with lifeless strings. So, she ran. She ran without an end. She ran without a destination. She ran without any limit. But she ran straight.

When she had traversed a long distance from home, she changed her track. She turned right. She breathed in a new air. A new air of freedom, a new air of satisfaction. She felt like an individual. The 22-year-old puppet realized the existence of a soul in her. She ran happily. She ran like she was dancing. She ran like pounding drum beats. She ran like a haunting violin being played in the sea. She ran how a dog pleads for a bone with the tongue sticking out. She ran like a child crying for love. She ran with arms open wide letting go of the strings that held her all these years.

She turned left. After a short while, she stopped. She had come far away from the genesis. She heaved a sigh of relief. With a smile, she walked towards a new beginning. And this walk defined the life she led thereafter. She lived life her way, no strings attached. And she loved the responsibility that came with living the life of an individual...the life of a running mind...

Wednesday, May 14, 2008

The Line

She was sitting in the arts room in the afternoon, with a pencil in one hand and a "what-am-I-supposed-to-do" expression in the other. She was eagerly waiting to hear her favourite sound...the school bell. The clock nearby the window was lazily ticking away, as if it had no destination to reach. As she was staring at the clock, the notorious villain, Anaahita's teacher came and scolded her. She returned her hazy gaze to the plain sheet which was resting on her desk. The sheet stared back at Anaahita.

The teacher had told the class to draw something based on the theme- "Lines". So, Anaahita drew a line on the untouched sheet. Then she drew another line. And then one more in the middle of those two lines... And then she wrote an 'A'. Then the self-confessed lover wrote her name all over the sheet. How attractive it looked, she thought to herself. The teacher came, saw and took away her sheet and told her to be more creative. Anaahita protested by reiterating that she had drew some lines which made sense. With a new plain, white and dull companion she began to think on the "lines" of the theme. She started chanting "lines, lines, lines..." in her mind to get some idea of what this topic meant. She thought of lines that separate people...lines that unite people...lines that lead to happiness...lines that lead to sadness...lines that lead to an innocent smile...lines that lead to an angry frown. Anaahita gasped. She finally knew what this theme meant.

Lines... Such an integral part of our life, yet so indiscernible. Lines that come and go like wind...lines that stay for life...lines that scar...lines that begin everything, and there are lines that bring an end.. The simplest, yet the most hated line, the Line of Control came first to Anaahita's mind. Then she thought about her grandmother's wrinkles...then her mother's scars on her hands... Anaahita stared at the clock. She'd never wandered so much in her thoughts ever before... She saw lines everywhere. So, she was still confused as to what to draw on the dull, white sheet which now was more interested in flying out of the window.

Within the last fifteen minutes of the time frame given to the class, Anaahita drew whatever she could gather from her thoughts. She thought since there cannot be a summation of "Lines", she drew the Cross of Jesus Christ. Satisfactorily, she gave her piece of art to the teacher.

Tuesday, February 26, 2008

A Dreaming Titli

Titli was wondering why her brother, Rahul, became so enthusiastic whenever he went out to play cricket in the evening...she was thinking what can be so special and magical about a game of a bat and a ball? Rahul had many a times tried to explain to her that cricket is his life, but the 11-year-old Titli failed to understand the importance of wood and leather in his life. So one evening, she thought of watching Rahul play. Through her half-sleepy eyes, she watched her brother batting and her neighbour bowling to him. She watched 4 balls being bowled, and nothing happening. And then suddenly, Rahul hit a six...and the crowd, which had the likes of rickshaw walas, nearby shops' owners, some employees, and some neighbours who were standing in their balconies who had nothing better to do in the evening; started shouting with joy and chanting Rahul's name loudly. Titli got scared of all the noise. She called her mother and informed her about the noise outside. Her mother started laughing and said, "Pagli Titli, your brother is playing well, which is no reason to be scared of." Her mother went back. Since Titli still couldn't understand the prodigiousness of hitting a six and breaking a neighbour's window, she went inside to watch television.

When Rahul came back in the night, all sweaty and smiling, he had a chocolate in his hand which he gave to Titli. Titli without questioning her brother's generosity and euphoria, opened the chocolate and started eating it. Rahul just smiled and went in the kitchen to inform his mother that his team had won. Titli heard that and immediately went to the kitchen. Rahul saw her, pointed towards the chocolate and said, "And that was my trophy." Rahul and his mother started laughing.

The next day, Titli was painting something for her mother, while her mother was watching television. Titli suddenly said, "Why is bhai so passionate about cricket? It's just a game..." Her mother said, "It's more than a game to him." Titli raised the paint brush, like a lawyer makes a point in the court; and said, "But I still don't understand." Her mother said, "What does a paint brush mean to you?" Titli stared at her mother and then at the paint brush and then at her mother. Titli said, "I like painting. The paint brush helps me in doing so. Infact I can become a painter..." Titli started dreaming with the paint brush resting on her face. Her mother said, "Titli, you can definitely become a painter but don't paint on your face!" Titli who was still lost in her dreams asked her mother, "Ma, is dreaming a good thing to do?" Her mother didn't reply. She stared at Titli. Titli shook her mother from her thoughts and asked the question again. Her mother said, "Well, dreaming is as important as's important to dream about yourself, your future or your present. Happy? Now complete your painting."

After half an hour, Titli showed her mother the painting. Her mother was choked with emotions. Rahul saw the painting and stared at Titli and said, "You have made this!" Titli said, "It may not be perfectly painted...but the emotion is perfectly there in it. She's breathe. She represents Life." Titli's mother and brother were speechless.

Saturday, February 9, 2008

Aisa Bhi Hota Hai...!

Once Upon A Time...

[Every human is sleeping. It's 2 am. Puchee (the PC) is having a conversation with Tubie (the Tube light).]

Puchee- Are you sleeping, Tubie?

Tubie- Like a good, obedient tube light; yes I am! Go to sleep Puchee or my mom will wake up in the next room.

Puchee- Listen, Tubie...we need to are my only friend in this room. You know how Pankhi is. [Puchee does not like Pankhi (the fan) as she spreads rumours about Puchee and Tubie's relationship in the air.]

Tubie- Ok, fine what?

Puchee- I had a dream last night. A really bad dream. It really turned me off...

Tubie- What happened? Did you dream again about the mouse eating the keys? Or is it about the speakers now?

Puchee- [almost sweating] Well...I...dreamt...

Tubie- [now completely awake] What happened? You're sweating! What did you dream about?

Puchee- Forget it. Goodnight Tubie. Go to sleep. Sorry to switch you on.

Tubie- Oh come on! You always do this. Why do you create such drama? Just tell me whatever you dreamt about.

Puchee- Tubie, I said I'm sorry. Goodnight.

Tubie- [really angry] Puchee tell me your dream or else I'll wake up Pankhi and tell her what we were doing yesterday afternoon when she was sleeping...!

Puchee- [scared] You wont tell Pankhi. You can't do something like that Tubie. Tubie I trust you.

Tubie- Then tell me your dream and let me switch off peacefully.

Puchee- Ok...I dreamt about you kissing MP. [MP (Mobile Phone) is considered as Puchee's replacement. She is now liked by every human as she possesses more features than Puchee.]

Tubie- Oh... [tries hard to hide his smirk] Puchee, that was just a dream.

[Puchee is crying, which means the UPS is making noise.]

Tubie- Don't cry Puchee, that human will wake up.

[Puchee is still crying.]

Tubie- Puchee, it was just a dream. I don't even like MP. I like you. MP maybe having more services than you, but I still love you. MP is always roaming around. But you remain at one place. And I like that.

Puchee- [stops crying] How sweet. I love you too Tubie. [smiles]

Tubie- [smiles] Now go to sleep and let me dream about you. [He was actually thinking about MP.]

Puchee- [blushes] Goodnight Tubie.

And they functioned happily ever after...

Tuesday, January 15, 2008

She Fought With Life

She was watching up there. Nobody on the beach knew she was thinking about her mother. She had lost her when she was five years old. Her childhood had been quite painful. Her mother had died in a car accident. She loved her mother the most...but now she had learned to love her brother and father...

The girl was searching for her angel in the sky. She believes God has assigned an angel for her. And all she saw was the blueness of the deep ocean in the air. She didn't lose hope. She made up her mind to come again the next day. She got up and left for home. She didn't enjoy the journey from the beach to her home. She preferred being lonely than being with her brother and father. She wanted to like them, love them; but they didn't understand her pain...because now they had learned to erase the girl's mother from their memories...

So she had to leave the comfort of loneliness and aboard the torturous flight of slavery. She lived the life of a slave to her brother and father...her brother was allowed to go to school, but the father thought that girls are supposed to remain at homes. So all she did the whole day was curse her existence and pray to God.

One day when all of them were having dinner quietly, the father asked the girl that why does she go to the beach everyday? The girl didn't have an answer. Her brother also asked her the same. She finally said- "to breathe some moments of life...and to be free". The girl stared at the father and brother and then rested her eyes on her plate. Her father and brother started laughing. She raised her eyes and asked them- "why, is it wrong to wish to be free?" Her father said- "No, but it's wrong to stare at your father and elder brother in that manner". The brother smirked, and they continued eating. The girl just stared back at her father and brother as a retort to their sadism. The girl liked fighting with her father and brother. She liked fighting with misery...because this is what she had learned from her role model, her mother; to fight and to enjoy the fight.

The next day, at the beach, she saw a mother running after her son, and the son enjoying the run-and-chase game with her...the girl just smiled and enjoyed the run-and-chase game with sadness, and so her fight continued with Life.