Happy Birthday!

I didn't hear you as I sat with my back against the painted walls of the shrine. The men played their music, different pitches intermixing, different voices creating absolute, sublime magic, their music divine. I remained numb to it all, numb to your presence, even when you perhaps called out to me constantly, asking for my love, asking for life.

The words filled my ears, echoed in my soul, yet I remained indifferent. I had to make a choice that day and I didn't know how. I always believed in Him, but my faith was already wavering. The soothing words, the smiling faces, the beautiful red roses strewn all around, they all spoke to me, all asked me to listen to your calls; I remained deaf, didn't hear anything. The void within was shallow, and it didn't allow me to hear anything, to feel anything.

I walked around looking for a sign, looking for your guidance, looking for an answer. It was all around me to see, but I remained blind, never saw anything. I saw a young woman playing with her young kids, yet I missed out on their smiles, and their laughter. I saw grown ups with their old parents, yet I missed out on the love between them. I looked past them all, and I made my choice.

Hours later as I woke up alone in the cold hospital room, I felt an acute emptiness within. It was your absence that made me realise how your presence had become inseparable from my existence. As tears flooded out, I was blinded by your thoughts, and my love for you.

You would have been four today,
To you my baby, Happy Birthday!


image ref: www.corbis.com

Strangers who knew each other too well

Smoking was something Roshni never indulged in, yet today she laughed uncontrollably every time she tried making rings of smoke. Almost every time she tried, smoke came out looking more like smoke from Aladin's lamp, and in her current state she laughed and waited for the djinn to come out and join them on the terrace.

All this while Arvind just stood in a corner, the ice cubes slowly melting in the glass, smoke slowly escaping out of his amused smile. He had tried his best to teach her, but today wasn't a day when success would have come to him easily. He stood back and looked at her, but saw nothing. It was a space filled with his past, filled with remorse. Looking at the perfect arches of now redundant yet iconic Ellis Bridge beyond the curls of her hair, he tried to keep his mind from wavering

Without any warning, Roshni came close, stepped on his feet and blew the last sleepless, shapeless smoke ring directly on his face. Taken by surprise he held her back and slowly turned her around towards the river so they both faced the bridge, the peaceful and sleeping river, the life lazily passing by. They had so many of their memories centered around the bridge, of the many vacant evenings spent strolling on it. It was one public space they could secretly call their own...

It was late in the night and with a few lights to disturb their view, they could clearly see the city beyond the river and its numerous bridges. Instinctively Arvind lightly wrapped his arms around her and smelt the fine fragrance of her hair. It was beautiful, more beautiful than anything else he could imagine at that time. She turned around, reached up and lightly brushed her lips on his, stroking his hair with her fingers, leaning against the terrace wall, her cold fingers curling around on his ears. None of them knew what was going on, none cared.

Arvind moved back as he heard the sound of approaching footsteps; no one came up from the party going on in the open verandah of the old house, no one saw them there. He offered her another cigarette, this time she refused. The spell was broken, the moment was gone. He went back to his glass of whiskey, while she looked on towards the bridge, playing with the rings of her hair.

While other guests at the party were still asleep, some drunk while others high with the smoke of marijuana, he walked her back to her house in the wee hours of the new day. The laughter was lost, the silence between them had become overbearing. They both wanted to go back to those few seconds of intimacy, yet knew it would never happen again. She had pined for his touch for so long, and knew that it was the last time she would see him. Her mind kept going back to the few beautiful, rushed days they had spent together years ago, to the moments that were fading fast from her memories.

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Walking alone in the slowing awakening pols of the old city, Arvind took the last drag from the last cigarette on him. His insomnia was back, he knew the memories from last night won't let him go back to his life again anymore. Stubbing the cigarette, he finally made up his mind and decided to go back to Roshni. It was an end to a life long struggle for him. Finally.

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Later she sat alone on the balcony as the sun lazily rose across the river, oblivious to the golden light filtering through the rich flora. A long journey awaited her, a place called home was calling her back. She decided to let go of the struggle inside and move on. Arvind was past for her. Finally.



image source: www.corbis.com

the call of sarangi

The glitter on string caught the slow glow coming from the overhung lamp; with all the darkness around, it looked like suspended light, floating alone, along with the constant sound from ustad's sarangi. I was spellbound once again, the slow and wistful raaga today was perhaps just a preface to the more tragic set of events that were to unfold later in the night; for now it just bought me closer to tears, tears of melancholic indulgence. I looked into ustad's eyes and found them brimming with the salty water as well, always on the edge, the tears never quite managing to fall. Even as the light outside continued dimming, the music played on, my heart kept skipping a beat. The ebbing light made it easier for me to let go, to free my tears, to let them flow, to let them wet my face, wet my soul.

Just as I was a slave to his music and his soul, so was the ustad to me, the man in love with his music for years. Ustad wouldn't stop playing the music, unless I asked him to. When he was so deep within his music, there was no coming back to the real world for him, unless called back forcibly. And for that the music had to be stopped abruptly. As I sat there looking at his face, slowing eaten up by the darkness around, I didn't know what to do next. It was so beautiful and serene, and I didn't want to disturb it, and the music played so beautifully, I could barely breathe. I was bound in my own web, and though I knew I had to do something fast, my heart and my body refused to listen.

The music went on, I could now hear ustad's little boy on the table as well. Opening my arms wide, I let it all soak in. Permanently. The ruins of Roshanbaug were awake again tonight, despite the near complete darkness. Somewhere I knew, this couldn't go on, not for long; but I didn't move, not as yet. I had to make a choice I possibly couldn't, and finally didn't.

I never quite realized when the ustad stopped playing the sarangi, and my mind had completely taken over and replaced his music with my own imagination. In the frenzy that followed, I cried and screamed and pulled my hair our. I confessed my love to him, made promises I knew can never be kept. But he never stopped, not even once and played on, in my mind, for my heart. Forever...

As I caressed his face, wiped his tears and closed his tired eyes, I finally let go of him. It had taken me a lifetime to come so close to him, only to leave him so far behind.



I would like the above story dedicated to Ustad Sultan Khan who passed away yesterday (27.11.2011). His Sarangi was a big influence on me, not just for this small post, but also for my love for the instrument. Do explore it, if you haven't done it already...

ghosts of my god...

The sound of the bell kept playing in my head hours after the aarti got over. It wasn't the first time either, and I knew this won't even be the last. It made me restless. It never let me sleep, made me an insomniac. As I lay wide awake, staring at the fan, the bells kept ringing inside, ready to break out. It went on and on and on, filling every bit of my existence, every bit of space inside me. I screamed, but the bells silenced me once again, never letting my voice out.

I heard them every morning, every evening. Every time I opened my eyes, ever so briefly and looked at the swarm of pious visitors, they watered with pity. I wanted to tell them to go away, to not prostate here. No one lived here, but me. But they kept coming, over and over again, day after day, year after year. Some had been coming here for as long as I lived. But they needed to be stopped, they needed to be told that it was just four walls here; just dead walls, just an empty space, a place with no soul.

I kept thinking this, day after day, a few years after the bells started chasing me. I begged for redemption for my lack of faith, and my little faith failed me again. Giving up on my self and my god, I carried on with life. Maybe I will carry on for years to come, maybe I will scream out loud and close the doors of this space forever. Maybe I will become a believer once again...

For now, I live with my ghosts, with the bells chasing me everywhere...

The Road Trip

I wasn't out on the road for the speed, or the thrill or even to travel. Or to meet new people, take part in their lives or simply to enjoy the moment, alone on my own. I didn't yet know why I was out for the almost three days now. Maybe to belong, maybe to un-belong. I didn't know.

The past two days were just the same, long winding roads, green all around, occasional people crossing my path, occasional cars overtaking me, occasional rains that I always missed. Nothing new, nothing unusual. Yes I was on a road trip, but I was alone. I was out to meet someone, someone who lived far, someone who used to be mine, someone who had moved on.

It drizzled as I started my third and the last day. I had originally planned to drive through the night and reach the end early in the morning, but then I saw the sand dunes and decided to camp. It was nothing like I had ever experienced before. I drove into the dunes and went as far away from the road as possible, trying to disappear, half hoping to lose my sense of bearings and get lost in these ever changing waves of sand. A sudden stillness around made me stop and look up, and look at the stars. The sky was clear now, despite the clouds and mild rains in the afternoon. I came out of the car and without even realising, screamed at the glittering sonsofbitches. They didn't flinch, and I screamed even more, never realising how tears flowed ever time I screamed.

Tired and drenched in my sweat and tears, I slept in the car itself, never bothering to camp, or look at the bright dark blue sky and the stars. All I felt was the hollowness around me, a complete lack of feelings, an absence of emotions. There was smoke, smoke of my own making. It overwhelmed me.

Morning came easily and without even thinking I went back to the road and continued driving. When rains came once again I stopped, and decided to get drenched finally. I didn't know if I would do it again today, or ever. But I couldn't feel the rain, I didn't feel anything, at all. How can things be so empty, how can I be so lost? I knew there was little meaning in going forward, and even lesser in taking the road back. The road didn't take me anywhere, anymore. Suddenly I was free of any questions, and my mind sought no answers.

I knew nothing, yet my mind and heart told me that I knew it all. There was immense knowledge in not knowing, and accepting that this was how things were always meant to be. Why seek answers, when there were none? At least none for me.

I didn't survive. I didn't exist anymore. I was dead. Finally.


Epilogue: The body of a dead man was found a days later and a few miles from the highway, rotting inside the car, stranded in the desert. The cause of death was confirmed to be Carbon Monoxide poisoning inside the locked car.




Thanks to Tej for the illustration, read and know more about him here and here.

A night to remember

As the sun set and the cool breeze started blowing, we decided to walk back home crossing the bridge over Sabarmati. I looked sideways to see Sudha smiling and talking animatedly, yet never looking at me.

'So have you ever tried the filter coffee at Sridarshini?'
Karan laughed out loud and said, 'That's not exactly fair, am just a day old here and all I have see so far is you, though still not enough of you!'
Sudha pondered for a while and said, 'You men, all are just the same!'
She complained, though her cheeks flushed and she fumbled with words.

We all went silent after this, I tried to pretend that I was busy looking down at feet, while they got busy looking at their hands and nowhere in particular. I knew this moment would pass and we would get back to our composed self soon. Somehow it was always left to me to make a humorous remark and break the sudden conversation barrier, but this time I decided to let it linger on for a while more. I wanted her to feel my pain, or whatever unusual emotions I was going through for the past two days.

We walked in silence for the rest of the journey. Maybe Karan already felt guilty about what was going on, and was happy to be away from conversations, or perhaps he was just happy and content with the breeze, but he remained silent. I knew we were finally reaching a point where we needed to talk, and have a conversation where I was also involved. Karan was leaving in the morning and I could feel an odd tension building up between the three of us.

I broke the silence and asked them if they wanted coffee, they both nodded. We were already in the new part of the town and so decided to go to the nearest posh new coffee place, sit in the open and enjoy the weather. The rains in the evening had ensured that the air was cool and extremely pleasant. Karan lit a cigarette and after a couple of drags, offered it to me. As I took my first puff, he started talking. I could see he was waiting for the moment, but somehow I panicked. I was not yet prepared for what I knew was coming, and when the words did start flowing, my world vanished.

I walked back home alone that night with the promise that my world would be returned back to me tomorrow. I wasn't sure anymore; Karan was my best friend and Sudha my wife, yet these promises somehow meant so little now.

Thanks to Vikram Tej for the superb illustration, read and know more about him here and here.

Indra's luck...

I knocked on the door knowing fully well what to expect – a lonely, beautiful woman unsatisfied by her beloved.

‘What you doing here Neil? I thought you were on your way to Ambaji’, she asked, her steaming cup of chai evaporating the air and aura around her. I decided to ignore the not-so-concealed mock directed at my faith; I was a man on mission today and nothing was going to distract me from my new found purpose in life.

‘I am Indra and today am here to help you help me release my rasa, so as to help you feel complete and content in life’, I said this with all possible seriousness. Alley listened to me carefully, and offering me a cup of chai asked casually, ‘But I always thought you were Neil?’

‘Not today and certainly not for you’, said I. She was certainly amused now, and decided to play along, lightly pulling at the hair of my hand and looking oh-so-briefly into my eyes. ‘Hmmm…so what brings you here today Indra? I am sure there are lands parched elsewhere as well, and need more rains than my humble abode’, as she said this her hands curled seductively around the remote she had in her hand; the channels flicked at an uneven pace, and the sounds from serials intermixed with the squealing penguins from the more earthy channels. The message was confusing, yet the array of broken, mixing sound was surprisingly seductive.

Soon we were on her bed, our clothes on the floor and all our rasas flowing, inside and outside. Alley's hands turned into claws and she drew blood with them, while her teeth left a trail of marks on my muscles. I was a feast for her, and she was making sure she left nothing to be had later.

                                                                     --

Gautam was humming to himself as he walked up the steps to his house. It was for the first time he actually walked up instead of taking the stairs, as Alley always demanded. He was happy as his weight had shown a reduction of 2 kg over the last three weeks. Just 15 more kgs and he would be a perfect husband. He knew she would be pleased today and might even allow him some bread for dinner. 

There was much in life that Gautama was unaware of, including the fact that he had special powers that could wreck havoc in the materialistic world around him. He didn't yet know that his curse could castrate a man, remove his phallus and cover his body with a thousand vaginas. All he had to do was say - your body will be covered by that which you desired so much!

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Gautam's first reaction when he saw his beloved Alley entwined with what looked like a bundle of injured muscles, was horror. He was afraid for the man, who he thought was being eaten alive by his virtuous wife. He screamed and suddenly the world around him started moving in slow motion, and he alone moved in real time. He realised what was going on and had a tremendous urge to do something.

He looked at the sky, but his view was obscured by the ceiling. While everything was still slow, he went out in the air and got instant karma. This was the moment his cursing abilities were revealed to him!

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The last thing I heard was Alley's fat husband screaming 'Your body will be covered by that which you desired so much!' All of a sudden, I ceased to exist, my existence only a joke...

Meanwhile Alley fell on Gautam's feet and begged forgiveness which he instantly granted. It took only one look at my thousand-vagina-covered body to make her realise that a fat husband was better than the unusual and helpless mass that I was at that moment. They walked away from my quivering body, while the TV in the living room screamed 'You have to try this' for a shampoo ad...

Alley and Gautam lived happily ever after.