HER

” I am not afraid of the night. It is the light that I am scared of. ”
” why?” I asked curiously
” the faces are more bright, more scorching”
When she finished her words, I saw a shadow of fear dancing in her eyes. I felt helpless. And it happens every time. This was not the first time she was hearing stories from the girls rescued from trafficking. But somehow, she felt different. It was the eyes. The girls eyes resembled that of a meek fawn, helpless and innocent, in the jungle. Surely torn by the lions but her wound and maybe the soul, both would be frozen.
” How old are you?”
” 14″. She pointed. And the next face that hit my mind was that of my sister. She too was 14…..

She too was 14 when…. her thoughts were interrupted by a touch. It was the girl.
” How will you help me? I don’t believe there is much you could do?”
” why don’t you talk it out? Whatever that is eating you? Maybe that could help”
I replied curtly.
She laughed, ” how will that change the attitude? Any way, the story is simple. I was born to a prostitute. All I asked her when I was a kid was who was my father? Back then, she used to shoo me away. I never got the answer. And when I was 10, my mom’s customer of the night took a share of me too. That was the beginning. And today you found me.”
Her eyes were emotionless when she finished. I felt empty and my voice, dead.
” Sometimes, I enjoyed and drowned in the pleasure but mostly it was the pain. Then nothing. ” , she added.
” were you attacked or hurt?”
She pulled her skirt upwards and I saw a large burn Mark on her inner thigh. It was deep and my inner stomach churned and I felt like fetching as I saw the unhealed flesh.
I tried to change the topic so as to divert myself from picturing the scene again” here we will help you to start again. We will educate you and ….”, I trailed off. For the first time, I felt words drained out of me. There she sat, on the corner, looking at me with those eyes. Those eyes and the way she plays with her hair. Why on this day am I feeling weak?, I thought.
Today, she is coming to my mind a lot. My sister who went missing when she was 14. She was kidnapped by traffickers . We tried a lot but the search ended in vain. And time made us learn to move on with the faint memories.
I walked upto her and sat near her. Automatically, the girl leaned onto her shoulder. She started patting her. Still, she kept her face straight without tears. ” I don’t feel safe here, ma’m” , she told. ”
“why?”

” back at our place from where you rescued, there were people who came to us like needy beggars. But here, I feel open and surrounded. The beggars always left satiated but here there are scavengers all around, I could see that in everyone. I could hear those voices too.” Her fears grew and she hugged me tight.
As the night grew, we sat there in silence. I felt still speechless as i was devoid of the right words to help this 14 year old.
After few moments of leaning onto each other, suddenly she reached out her hand to the inside of her shirt and pulled out a crumpled paper. She held it out towards me,” this is the picture of my mother. It is very  much worn out. Could you fix this?” . I took it from her and slowly opened it with a tiny hope that I had deep inside. I took one look at the lady and I was crestfallen. A different woman .
” yeah, I will.” And I stood up and walked away. Outside my room , I saw another group of females including young children to older women. I looked at them for a moment and suddenly felt embarrased. This definitely was not my call. Unlike others who came into this only to help them selflessly, I was a paradox.  Throughout all these times and in all the rescue operations I worked, I was in pursuit of only one face- heera, my sister. I wondered whether she is alive. Maybe or maybe not. Life would have been different if that incident never happened. The pursuit for her sister had slowly transformed to an obsession. She felt weak and alone in that crowd. All these times, she believed that others were in need of her help but realised it was just the opposite. From the young girl to whom she talked before, it was she who got the advice and help and not the latter.

” Excuse me” someone beckoned her. As she turned, she saw a lady, probably in her mid sixties.
” tell me,Amma”.
” sorry, but you reminded me of someone. I thought it was for a second but then, it could never be”the lady sighed.
I fel t a ray of hope again.
” please tell me more about her.”

The lady was startled by my sudden interest but then continued,” she was one among the girls brought here to us a few years before. Her face was radiant but she was silent. She walked like a zombie, lifeless and never mingled. After her hours at night, she would quietly walk towards a corner and then cry silently. At times, she mumbled about her home, parents and a sister. But the talkings were all to herself. And..”

I felt a rush in my heart as I heard those words. And yes I knew, it was heera whom she was talking about.
” And what Amma.”
” She killed herlself. One day morning. Two years before, we woke up to the view of her hanging on the ceiling. Though silent and confined, everyone loved her. Just like the name, we used to say, HEERA”

***************************************
” The words hit her like thunder and showers. She struggled and pushed through the crowd, leaving the lady wonder, and walked away. She ran without breath and stopped as she reached the restroom. She knelt and washed her face. As she looked into the mirror, she saw herself. Few moments before , it was different. She had an aim that gave a meaning to her life but now. Everything had gone in vain. She failed miserably. Now there was no Heera. In all the rescue operations that are to happen in the future, there will be no heera in wait for her, as she believed till now. She sank into the corner of the room and cried.
” Ma’ m”
it was the voice of the little girl. She tried to put on a smile. The girl wiped her tears and hugged her. She somehow felt warm.
” what’s your name?,” I asked her.
” dunno, my mother never gave me one and there was no father or fathers to give me one. Everyone called me nanhi( the little girl).
I caressed her cheeks. She was beautiful and gentle and somehow her presence made her alive.
” heera” I whispered
” what , ma’m?” she asked again.
“Lemme call you heera. Do you like it?

As I looked into her face, waiting for the approval, I saw a smile blooming slowly around her lips. Yes. My search was over. I finally found her”

The Final Laugh

Ralph walked through the corridor in a haste. He failed to notice the path which he was traversing, neither did he gave ears to the person who was blabbering endlessly about the paintings to him. Ralph was in the Louvre museum, but unlike many, his intentions were not to admire and learn about the priced paintings that adorned the walls. His was a quest, started way back, continuing still. His eyes searched among the many thousand faces that one single face which had turned away from him quite a few years back. Time had sped past but he felt himself glued in that past, unable to forget and unable to move on. Few minutes later, Ralph found himself in front of the most celebrated lady- “Mona Lisa”. The guide had taken a new momentum in his word shower but Ralph never heard any. “Where are you, my Mona Lisa?” He laughed silently, biting down the sound from his throat with his sparkling white teeth. “Let’s walk”, Ralph told the guide and turned immediately, only to hit some stranger. She had fallen down and Ralph doubted whether to spare a moment and help the lady. As he started to walk away, he heard the voice of the lady, cursing as she tried to get up. That voice felt familiar. Looking back, he saw the face of the young lady. It was her. Ralph felt a sudden adrenaline surge as he ran towards her and helped her out. Though he was in the quest, finding her was an accident. Accidentally, he had met her this day, just like the way it had happened a few years ago. He had held out his hand towards her once, long back and that time, she took it happily. Today, he held it out again but he knew that there would be no happiness for her.
They say that in all the movies, the story ends when the couples unite. But for Ralph, it had just begun……………

“Amanda”, she heard him clearly, his voice, a cold whisper. He had held her arm tightly, his fingers tightening the grip, while she struggled to stand up. She knew he had found her and that the run was over. All the while, Ralph was looking straight into her eyes. She saw in those, a gleam of joy, which fairly resembled the glow that she saw in the eyes of a predator after it captures its prey. “Anything wrong, Sir?” she heard the voice of the guide who accompanied Ralph.” Your work is over”, Ralph answered him, still not turning his face away from her. The very next second, she found herself being dragged out of the museum.” Leave me, Ralph”, she pleaded, her voice exuding the consternation that she felt the moment she knew it was him. he continued walking, pushing aside their way through the large crowd, moving out of the museum, turning through the narrow ally and finally ending the journey in a way side inn.

“All you had to do was be my wife. I loved you, I cared and I provided everything”, he retorted that echoed inside the room she was pushed into. Ralph closed the door with the back of his leg and stood in front of her. His six foot and well-built gigantic posture was enough to frighten her soul and already shivering mind.

” Leave me, Ralph. I know you love me but too much of love and your obsession is choking me.”

” And if I leave, then what?” he switched his legs, “Can’t imagine you with any other man, dear”, he knelt down and ran his fingers over her sweaty face. He wiped away the small beads that formed near her eyes and behind her ear. Ralph adored her a lot. She was his queen, his alone and if not, then she belonged to none. Not even herself. She had escaped from him an year ago. And today, he found her again. He mentally calculated the days she was away from him and   wondered if she had been alone or with anyone. The very thought made him stir as he felt a dark spasm of pain hit his nerves. He moved behind Amanda and knelt closer to her.  He knelt down and smelt her long luscious hair. “I Love you”, he whispered in her ears as he pulled out a paper knife and with a clean single move, slit her throat, while he held her closer to his heart.
*********************************************************************
Amanda jumped out of the rocking chair on which she sat. It was 1 am in the morning. She did not know when she had fallen asleep but it had only been an hour. An hour, long enough to give her that terrifying night mare. She knew that her dream could turn out into a reality if she really tried to escape from there. She had thought about it once but never had the courage to execute the plan. Even if she had, the result would have been the same that she saw in the dream. He would hunt her down and kill her. Love was such a poisonous feeling too when in excess. She looked around her home but….. It was not home any more. More of a dungeon where the captivator held his captive, fed it, showered it with love and care. But the captive always felt caged. She was free but still chained. Ralph had stopped loving her the normal way long back. The feeling had rather changed into an addiction for Ralph and it reflected in his behavior. She had felt it in her nerves when he started to be over protective and possessive, slowly pushing her out of her friends’ circle, away from the social getaways and finally choking her up with his total act of ownership. She had tried to talk but went vain. The file suited for divorce was a total disaster as Ralph had the money and power. The case flew like a small piece of dry leaf in the wind, slowly dissipating and dissolving in the thin air. He had threatened her and then apologized, beaten her and then pleaded for forgiveness. One act of repentance from him, was he admitted  the fact that he had gone psycho and started taking  the medication. But Ralph never let her go, will never be.  Amanda knew she was afraid of him. The fear overruled the hatred and she felt perplexed at times. All she wanted was to escape but Ralph was everywhere. Even in her dreams, he had been successful to keep her caged.
She put aside her thoughts and walked into the kitchen. In a single gulp, she emptied the water bottle.
She yearned for freedom. Although,  still being his wife, there was no feelings alive in her. There was no parents to help: Ralph had helped her walk out of that orphanage, holding her hand, bound in the holy matrimony. Back then, she remembered being happy. Happy to feel that someone was there for her. But time do change things. Too much of anything is dangerous, be it love or even that care.  And she is done with having too much.
Having made the choice, Amanda walked out of the kitchen, finding her way across the hall to the bedroom. The room was dim lit, the zero watt bulb burned in one of the top corner of the room. The A/C was still on and she felt the chilling breeze as she slightly opened the closed door. Leaning onto the wall, she watched Ralph, sleeping under the comfort of his thick woolen quilt. Watching him made her walk into those memories again, the good and the bad. She felt like a pendulum, oscillating between the choices she had and what finally awaited.
“Sorry Ralph”, she uttered under her breath as she silently trotted into the room. In her hand  that she held behind, the sharp kitchen knife swayed as she shivered, and it sparkled under the quivering reflection of the dim lit zero watt bulb.

*********************************************************************

Ralph sat in the strange and freezing cold room, staring the four walls. It was different from all the other places he had been up to. Back then, he had been honored at every places but here, the show was different. The four walls had four different faces. One side had a large cupboard, open one , filled tightly with a bunch of dusty files of which some  were half eaten by the termites. The other side was bland but had stains, probably the blood spewed by many persons who were smashed on to it by these men. The third side had a picture board of not so beautiful faces, adorning the section. And there on the fourth side,  on a wooden chair, sat him, the man in uniform who had brought him there an hour ago. On the table, Ralph saw the steel kitchen knife, stained with blood. Her blood. She who had walked in to take away his life had walked away alone, with him snatching away hers. He writhed inside, an act of self defense had cost him the priceless possession of his life. Now he was poor, a penniless pauper, having lost her. “ Why, Amanda, why? Why did you sit near me for long, long enough to woke me up. I was shocked to see you there, and the knife. Am I that despicable, Amy?” , he broke down.
The inspector watched the man opposite him, playing a series of emotions all over his face. His wife had attempted murder but the role switched.  He had rushed in to the scene after the call he got from Amanda. The lady had confessed everything and told him that she is going to kill. But the moment he reached the scene, he saw a different picture. He had seen Ralph sitting there, holding a blood clad Amanda in his arms, the knife pushed deep inside her heart. And the inspector had grabbed him at the very next second itself before he could do further damages. But the lady didn’t survive. He saw her die but with a serene smile as if acknowledging the inspector for his late arrival. He saw Ralph in tears and an endless pain:The inspector had realized that Amanda had won the battle.

He knew that the guy could be spared. Ralph was a powerful man and the inspector knew it. But he also knew Amanda and her plight.
” What do you want me to do? I knew both sides of the story, Ralph. Hers and yours. Decide what you want. Either you could go to jail or we could bury everything up”, the inspector explained.Ralph said nothing but kept on looking at the inspector.
” Your call”, the inspector reiterated.
Ralph suddenly smiled. The same hunter smile that Amanda feared.
” You know, her body shivered a lot when I stabbed her. I doubt whether she was really in there, to murder me. For that, she could have done a lot easier. She could have increased the dosage of my medication or anything . But she chose the knife way. She chose the knife and then watched me sleep till it woke me up. But  Why?”, Ralph let out a devilish laugh that echoed inside the station. The inspector felt a tinge of fear forming inside but struggled hard to not let his face showcase the same . The man was truly a psycho.
” You know I wish to be punished because I have killed my queen. But not here, not like this. “, Ralph suddenly leaned closer to the table. ” Amanda had smiled when she took her last breath. She knew that she had finally escaped from me- death had freed her. But No, not yet.”

The inspector clutched the gun attached on his belt tighter. With a swift move, Ralph grabbed the knife,” Here I come, Amy. Just could not let you go. Sorry it took a while to decide.” And just the way she had seen in her dream, all it took was one fine slit, right on the throat.

*******************************************************************durga

THE DECISION

” Who are you to question me?”, he lashed at her, enraged, his voice breaking the ceilings. She looked around the room to ensure that the windows and doors were properly shut. The last thing she wanted was her kids to hear the raging voice and those aggressive fights.But, his voice was loud enough to reach the other room where her kids slept peacefully.
Young Kabani held her ears closer to the door. Once again, with trembling hands, she ensured that the door was bolted. That was what her mother had instructed , or else their dad may beat them too. She looked at her 3 year old sister, Kalindi who was sleeping peacefully. Kabani checked on her again to make sure that she slept undisturbed.The last thing Kabani wanted was Kalindi waking up to witness the daily ruckus staged at their home, every night. At least, she should be able to love her dad up to some point. Kabani had put a cease to that long back. During mornings, her dad woke up as if nothing had happened. His eyes remain closed to their bruised mother, the wounds mostly gifted by him or his hard shoes. Her mother too pretends as if nothing had happened the previous night and continues to don the role of a dutiful wife. But Kabani had had enough of the drama. Her heart ached as she watched each and every scene played at their home, from morning to night, like a daily routine. She hated that movie where her dad turned from hero in the morning to a ruthless villain at night, and her mother from the central heroine to an innocent and helpless victim.
Suddenly, she heard the deafening shatter pf glasses. A spasm of pain hit her as she pictured her mother, pleading like a prey in front of the predator: her father. She tried hard and held herself back from opening the door and rushing to her mother’s side.
Seconds ticked, minutes ran and hours passed. Young Kabani sat near the door listening gravely, waiting for the voices to end . Finally, at one point, she heard her father snoring away.
Cautiously, Kabani opened the door and walked into the other room.

She took her steps carefully, trying hard not to make even the slightest noise. It was painful as she felt like a stealthy thief inside her own home. The door to her parents’ room was half opened. She inched towards the door and peeked inside. She saw her dad, finally asleep after the tumultuous ordeal and her mom, in the corner, with her head resting between her knees. She went and sat beside her, laying her arm over her mother’s shoulder. Her mother was shaken by the touch but felt relieved to notice it was only her daughter.

Kabani’s face changed when she saw the blood trickling down her mother’s wrist. Near to her, she saw the broken glass pieces. She looked at the wall and understood that he had smashed the bottle on her mother’s arm, holding her against the wall.
This time, she looked at her father again , but disgustingly. That was the moment when the last of her happy memories with her dad faded, those memories created long before her dad changed.There was a time when things were different
She ran her fingers through her mother’s hair and wiped the oozing blood with the end of her cloth.
” Let’s leave, mom. Let’s end this drama. That man sleeping there is someone else, mom. There was love and care once ,but now, there is nothing left. ”
Her mother was surprised to hear those words from her 17 year old daughter. Kabani was calm but her mother knew that the decision was made already and all she wanted was her mom’s approval.
” What will we do then? ” her mother felt unsure of what to reply . “He provides us and…”
” And now, taking us for granted.” , Kabani interrupted, her tone filled with bitter angst and an unexplanable vexation.
” Not us, but taking you totally for granted. Let’s face it, mom. Nothing is going to change until we stop our woebegone, monotonous and bogus role play. Kalindi is growing up and I do not want her be in a place where she lives in constant trepidation of what dad is going to do next. ”
Kabani took a pause and looked reassuringly at her mother.
” Let’s get out of this life, mom. Never fear because the fear never helps but only courage to face the problems will.”
Her mother nodded partly and that was all Kabani needed.

In the silence of that night, young Kabani took the strong decision to free themselves from the dark hell. That very night changed her life completely. Kabani helped her mother in mending her wound and took her to the room where her sister slept. Leaving her there, she started packing their belongings. She didn’t feel any huge rush of emotions. All she had in mind was the worry of what lay ahead. She had made the decision but felt a little tensed about that darkness that they are to face. With silent steps, she proceeded once more to her father’s room . He was sleeping, like a dead door nail, snoring aloud. Watching him sleep made her remember those ordeals again. Flashes of images of her mother’s plight ran through her mind: the hushed cries, the hidden bruises and lastly her mother’s lost smile. She knew her mother had grown weak and feeble and also knew that they needed her. Her mother and her innocent sister. Her eyes turned red, deep inside, her feelings transforming from love to hatred for him.“Never in my life” . She muttered as she gave him a final wistful look and slammed the door.
That night, with her sister on her shoulder and her mother besides, Kabani walked away from that drama, feeling rooted and mature, with a strong decision to mold their life, back again to a better one.

Kabani had walked, with her mother and sister, into the open arms of her grandfather, who was waiting for them after she had called and told him about what really was happening. Her mother had never informed any of the chaos in their lives. Kabani could see the tinge of sadness in her grandpa’s eyes but stayed strong. Her mother had collapsed into his arms and wept silently. Kabani had a ruckus of thoughts bubbling in her mind. She had to decide about all the ‘TOMORROWS’ that they are going to live without the provider. Initially, it was grandpa who had helped Kabani in completing her school and college, and also in finding a job for their mother. Slowly the bright colors started to appear in their once dull and colorless life. Kabani went on to become a teacher, just like her mother and gradually, every pieces feel in the place. Little Kalindi grew up and obviously had questions initially about father , but Kabani remained reticent. The questions had stopped in the long run as mother had answers to those for which Kabani never had. There were many ups and downs but they had survived. Survived well enough that the darkness they feared once had never a chance to shadow their life again.
**********************************************************************************************************
Kalindi paused and eyed her audience. The entire classroom was listening intently with their eyes glued onto her. Even Ved sir was looking at her, anxiously waiting for her words..
Kalindi took another deep breath before she started again.
She rebuilt our life. It’s been 17 years since that night. She just transformed our lives. When Ved sir had given a chance to all of us to talk about the most influencing personalities in the world, I was unsure. When I asked Kabani about this, she gave a large number of options with vivid and valid explanations. During that time when she was explaining to me, I looked at her. Shades of grey had hit her slightly and yeah, she was 34 now. She had remained unmarried and suddenly I felt the urge to know the reason and I just blurted out. Kabani smiled and told, ‘ Initially, I was fighting against all the odds so as to succeed. I had you and our mother and I wanted us to be independent, strong and obviously happy. That thought was entrenched in my mind, brain and even my heart. You know, Kalindi, Today, I am happy that we have succeeded. Because when I made the decision to move out from Dad that night, all I prayed was that I never regret. Leaving the bread earner was the mom’s last choice but somehow, that moment, I felt it to be the right decision. I wanted to prove that the decision was apt. Of course, I never did till this moment. I am happy this way and forever will be. Sometimes, all you need is the right ones in your life to make it perfect. I have you both, and for me, this is pitch perfect.’
‘What about the future? There might be one day when we will not be with you, either me or mom? Then what?’ I asked.
She spread that beautiful smile again and patted me slightly, ‘ Once I had the same tension and confusion about the future. But as each day passed, that faded away gradually. And today, I really don’t worry about the future, Kabani. Ya, there might be one day but it will be the same, like any other day in my life. We are here to witness all the sunrises and the sunsets that we are destined to, and we sure will do-together or alone.’
Kalindi ended and again looked at her audience. She was met with a loud round of applause.
“Why you chose to talk about your sister then? Your sister had suggested many other famous personalities, nah”. Ved sir enquired.
” Kabani is and will be the most strongest person who have not just influenced but made me the way I am now. Strong people or persons to idolize, as I believe, are definitely not the ones you see in newspapers or the covers of the magazines, who of course, have succeeded in their life in many fields. For me, they are the ones, who, against all the odds, make the choices, the decisions and build their life and that of their loved ones.“

THE PLAYBACK

” It is raining heavily”, he shouted impatiently, “Close the balcony door or water may come in”. He said.
She turned back and saw that he was in his chair, immersed in some thought. yes, it was raining and the balcony door was opening. She was surprised to hear his voice, slightly irritated by the fact that the rain water will enter in his room and ruin the floor. but more than that, she was taken aback by his sudden hatred towards the rain. She went and stood near the balcony door, watching the rain. He was still in his own world, a world unknown to her.
The rain brings back memories, and a drop of tear trickle down her cheek.
As she wiped it away with the back of her hand, her vision got blurred and she shut them down.

*******************************************************************************************

Pop comes those visuals, a 50 year old cinema, filled with all the right ingredients: Happiness, fun, emotions and sentiments, and also the well- famed small and slightly big fights.Towards the end, the story was all about love, a simple saga of togetherness-of him and of her.
Yes, the rain brings back beautiful memories, quite naughty, quite romantic.
There was the city drenched in rain and roads drowned by the rain water- thanks to the clogged drainage.
That day, he paddled them both through that lake with his beautiful bike.
The scene changed to a beautiful seashore, with them standing and watching the sea, holding their hands.
It was a wet evening soaked and totally drenched after a yet another heavy rain.
The sun setting in the backdrop and the waves dancing a little harder than usual.
A music fiesta, it was, where the thunder rumbled like a jazz player with accompanied fire works at random intervals.
Everything added to the marvel and magnificence of the place.

Again, started the down pour, this time lazy and slow paced, embracing them as they rushed back.Slowly, they rode back, garnering each moment where the city-lights shone and the raindrops twinkled. Life was pretty and charming and moreover complete, with him besides.

***********************************************************************

Opening her eyes again, her gaze turned towards him .
And she wonder, whether she will be able to relive those moments, with him again.
She looked at him again and could see the changes. Time, the vicious villain had transformed him totally.He looked back at her, expressionless. And she knew he could see her, but.. ..He could only see her, not remember her. The memories had faded away, gradually, long back. She walked toward him, her steps feeble and weak as the same vicious and heartless villain had attacked her too. She sat closer to him and watched as he pasted a smile- a smile that he pasted for all the faces, unknown to him.. His face was tranquil and his smile, serene. Her heart ached at the realization that she too was now a stranger for him. She took his hand and as a reflex, he struggled to let it go. But her hands were firm and he gradually withdrew. She helped him out of the chair and together, they walked towards the balcony. He shivered when the rain drops hit him. The little drops, caught in his wrinkles, shone like a pearl. And she felt she was back in the olden times. The seashore, the rain embracing them. Feeling completely lost in the memory, she was startled by a sudden clutch on her hands. It took a while for her to register that it was him, holding my hands and not the other way now. He smiled at her again and she searched in his face, a signal to know whether he is remembering her or not. Maybe, this is one god-gifted moment to cherish with him, in their nearing darkness, the one priceless moment where the memories does playback for an instant.

And ‘MILES TO GO BEFORE I SLEEP’

He re-read the lines again.Robert Frost– a maestro, he thought. And those words have been his inspiration. It still is: “Miles to go before I sleep”. As a kid, during his English class, when his favorite teacher taught this wonderful poem, he was drawn completely into it. He believed that there is more beauty hidden far, somewhere at the infinite end of the road , and that wherever he stopped was just a temporary inn. The inn offered a lot of luscious amenities that allured one to settle down there itself; Only the wise one will continue the journey. His dream was to be the latter. And he had the lines written everywhere- his books, coffee cup, on the wall and even had it embossed on his favorite Parker Pen.

But now, at this very moment, he questioned himself. The quote stood meaningless now. He was at a point in his life where he needed to take a decision- a very serious one. He felt confused and felt being in a total dilemma. She had asked him to cease the journey. All she wanted was a stable life with him. He remembered her words vividly,” You are confused and fickle. You have got a great job but still you are, in pursuit of something different.” Her words and her face reflected the anxiety and the worry she had about their future. ” I don’t know where this is going but I seriously don’t want to end up in a total mess . If at all you ever want me besides you, settle down. Continue your passion as your hobby just the way you did till now. Think about it, settle down. Let us settle down together.”

He mentally calculated all the possibilities though it reached nowhere. She appreciated all his works but whenever he talked about quitting the job, there was a 360 degree turnaround in her attitude. He understood her worries but felt his heart not that big enough to let go of his dream. He ran his fingers on the canvas and on the pastel and brushes that lay by the side table. He glanced at all the paintings that adorned a majority of his walls. He shrugged slightly. He knew his works were good. Deep in his heart, he admired his passion a lot. But with the same fire, he loved her. The decision making was a hell lot tougher than what he had pictured. Feeling slightly dull and heavy, he sank deep into the beanie. On the small side table beside the bean bag, lay the admission letter to the College of Arts in London . The letter to change his destiny, carve the new path ; where he could take on the journey, where his passion interlocked his career. Clearly, the path to his passion. Next to it lay her picture. She was beautiful, bold and mature. She was his soul mate.

It is harder than he anticipated. To ease out of the tension, he took his diary and opened it.” Miles to go before I sleep”. The words were written in bold letters on the front page. He switched his glance onto the table again, shuttling between the letter and her picture. And he felt happy as he understood what his heart really wanted. Holding the letter in one hand, he grabbed his cell phone and made his call to her.
**********************************************************************

Judged by the attire

Today, my eyes witnesses a strange, yet thought provoking incident. As usual , on a Monday morning, I was waiting for my bus to office from my home town. The weight of my luggage was pushing me down as I desperately waited for my bus, which in turn, has not yet arrived on its usual time. ” It would be late”,I concluded.
In between my thoughts, another bus came and stopped by. ” Where would this bus go,ma?” , a shrill voice hit my ears from the back. I turned my head and noticed an old lady, probably in her mid sixties. She wore a shabby, ragged saree and had a cloth bag on one hand and a stick on the other. Judging from her attire, I presumed her to be a lady , who begs alms for living.
” Thrissur”, I replied. She gifted me a smile and walked towards the bus. As she tried to enter the bus, the conductor prevented her on the steps, ” Board some another bus. We have other people travelling.” he slammed the door. The lady’s face dimmed and she stepped back. Yet another bus to Thrissur came, but the driver sped away as he noticed her appearance. I continued to watch the lady until my bus came.
Few minutes later, sitting inside the bus, my thoughts went back to the old lady. She was denied of her travel just because of her attire. Since she was a beggar, the conductor and the driver feared that people might not board their bus.

Yes, we judge people by their attire and appearance. I won’t deny the fact that there are thieves among beggars. But a person cannot be judged solely based on appearance because here we could mistakes. A well dressed and mannered person will not be the same in character as is projected by their appearance. But we blind ourselves to these simple facts and fall prey to such people.
Appearance and attire plays the pivotal role when it comes to judging of people these days. I wish it changes. I wish if only we were little more humane and sensible
Remember, the father of our nation was once addressed as ” half naked fakir”. The true picture is that he altered the life of each one of us by giving us the fruit of freedom.
Attire can only categorize the materialistic richness or likeness. Beyond that, there is another level. There, the rich may be poor and the poor, richer…..

THE BOY & THE BIRD

The boy loved the bird dearly. He fed it, talked lovingly, showed the world and did everything to keep it in comfort. The bird was the Apple of his eyes. But all his actions never changed the attitude of the bird towards him. It responded but was naive. It was decadent seldom and the boy was dubious about this. He gifted it all the pleasures and never hurt it. But still there was no reciprocation of his care. The bird remained like a stone sculpture and merely lived. Tired and crest fallen, the boy finally asked the bird about  its uncouth behavior disregarding his love and care. The bird fluttered in its cage and responded bluntly,” As a master, I respect you but bound I am, inside and when my wings yearn to fly, you repulse my sole happiness. Though you gift me the luxury in abundance, I wish to be free. But with you, my autarchy is an utopian dream. ” the words of the bird, filled with wisdom, opened the eyes of the boy. Without further thought, he opened the cage. As the bird soared towards the sky, it gave him a grateful smile. And the boy felt the real happiness then…..

PAPER BOAT

(A story developed on a one liner that I got from my friend accidentally during a coffee break)

She laughed and it jingled in his ears…It echoed melodiously in the slight drizzle that further added to the beauty. Slowly, with her slender fingers, she drew patterns in the puddle formed. The ripples careesed his arms. He looked at her again: ‘My Wife’, he wondered.

Meanwhile, she, unaware of his thoughts and gaze, engaged herself into a new game. She took a paper and folded it.”There was this guy in school”, she started. He was a little surprised. “My friend he was, so different from others. So natural” She folded the paper again.”As time passed, our friendship grew. It took twists and turns but eventually made me take a step further”. She paused and continued working with the paper.

“What?”, he asked.

“I asked if he was the one”, she slightly adjusted her hair strands, ” and he told he was not.”

Coming out of the story, she looked and smiled at him. He smiled back. Slowly, she put the paper boat that she made, carefully in the puddle and pushed it gently. He also joined in.. The paper boat majestically sailed for a few minutes till it soaked and drowned.

“That incident at school was nothing more than…”, she trailed off…”A paper boat”, he completed and took her hand. She nodded silently.

Together, they watched the sunset and the night dawn in.The darkness swept over and the paper boat was no where visible. Under the dim light of the moon, she shone like a gleaming star. Pushing aside his thoughts, he told her,” Let’s call it a night then, dear.” She stood and extended her hand towards him. As they walked along, she nudged him playfully and whispered, “A beautiful night………..”