Wednesday, September 26, 2007

All the warmth in the world

It rained like hell that day. As if life isn't hell enough for me already, he thought. They were a group of 7, sitting inside the canteen. Piping hot tea and boisterous laughter flowed freely amongst the students, who were enjoying a half an hour break between lectures that rainy Wednesday morning. Sushant, who usually was the major proponent of these canteen visits, however, had left his glass of tea untouched that day. He was staring outside the giant windows, watching the white sheets of rain lash the green trees and marshy meadows outside. Occasionaly, a gust of wind would bend the slim trees so much that they would seem like giving away. Now and then, stray raindrops carried by the wind would find their way in to the canteen and fall on these people, bringing squeals of delight from them. The skies remained dark and gray as if they had an infinite reservoir of rain. It's beautiful outside, he remarked with a tinge of sadness tangible in his heart.

His mother had practically disowned him. After many fights with her, they had reached the flashpoint. She had told him coldly that he was an embarrassment to her, and wasn't a son anymore. And hadn't spoken to him since. Now he had never felt more miserable in his life. He didn't even have a home to go to now. It's not a home anymore, he thought. Just a place to eat and sleep. A stranger in his own house, he thought. He wasn't part of that conversation in the canteen, he was practically lost. He wondered if it was possible to live without a family in the same house as them. Guess that's what I'm gonna have to do now, he thought. Just be alone in the house. I'll be a complete man,amd excel in my studies, and get a good career going. Sushant thought. Just that I won't have a family. But will I be happy? Ofcourse you will ...one part of him said. The other simply said...but who taught you to even spell the word 'happy'?

Just then, his mobile phone rang. It was his mother calling. Hurriedly, he hushed all his friends into silence, and picked up the call, with his blood pounding in his ears. "Hello Sushant, I heard its raining a lot there, please take care and don't get wet, come back home soon or the cold will get to you". Sushant could barely get himself to talk the next few words..."Mom. don't worry I'll come back soon." "Yeah, hurry or train service will break down, I'll make something for you at home so don't eat at college"."Mom...I love you...I'll never break your heart again".

A touch of hesitation at the other end, and Sushant heard "Love you too Sushant". And the line went dead. He realized he had tears in his eyes. I'm still a son! He grabbed his glass of tea. It was still hot. He sipped it slowly, feeling the warmth seep into him. "You're practically glowing...who was it on the phone?" his friend asked.

"The person who taught me to spell 'happy'...I'm going home guys...you guys sit for more lectures if you want" he said, and started homeward. It was cold outside, and he didn't even have an umbrella. But it didn't matter. He had all the warmth in the world waiting for him at home.

p.s : I know this sounds a bit weird, but this is something that's very close to my heart right now.

Monday, September 24, 2007

We all have, at some point in our lives, reached a stage of depression where suicide seems an acceptable thought. Luckily, good thought prevails, and we refrain from pursuing. But here is a look at what happens when one actually decides to go on with it. Writing it was a different experience, to say the least. Provided a scary kind of thrill. Let me know if you like it.

This way….
There is none like me, the failure amazing,
The ship of my dreams- I have watched it sinking.
A shooter who has missed every target he aimed,
Woe befall me, for my parents I have shamed.
Through my errors, loved ones I have lost,
Promises I have broken, and friendships it has cost.
God, can’t you see, this life I do not deserve-
Dogged by failure, what purpose can I serve!

So that night when the world peacefully slept,
Under the starry skis I sat down and wept
For all the dreams, hopes and the loved ones
That I shamelessly lost, but had once.
Suddenly, like a lonely vehicle up a dark mile,
An idea takes root, and thinking of it, I smile.
All my blunders and follies now no one can mend,
But this pitiful existence of mine, I can easily end.

Now, bleeding and reeling, to the ground I stagger,
My wrists I have mercilessly slashed with a dagger.
Expectantly, the serene moonlit heavens I see,
Awaiting the second chance that god will give me.
As the warm blood gurgles and drips away,
My eyes close gently, a pity it ends this way…
And the world turns a melancholy shade,
And watches in silence as into nothingness I fade.

Tuesday, September 18, 2007

Its a known fact that I can't dance. And my dancing is a joke to acquaintances, an embarrassment to close friends and a misery to myself. I tend to avoid dance parties, for I stick out of the crowd like a sore thumb. But let me try not to let my prejudice against dancing cloud my judgement when I write about this.

Very recently, I was at a society Ganesh Mandal function. It was a hot and humid evening, and there were atleast a hundred people crammed inside the pandal put up, with a stage and loud speakers at the front. Bright lights adorned the stage, and there was a dance competition going on for kids below 8 years of age.

There were girls wearing traditional Marathi dresses and dancing to folk tunes and boys wearing jackets and trying out the 'bhai' numbers. Pretty much what you would expect from a dance competition. The audience was supportive, and stuck with the amateur performers despite a few obvious bloopers and visible stage fright. In the middle of all this, came a little girl of 6 or 7, to dance to 'Dil me baji guitar' from a recent movie.

The curtain opened, and the music began, and she began by taking off her jacket, swaying it over her head and throwing it into the audience. This, alarmingly, was greeted with much enthusiasm by the audience. A few guys at the back began dancing. Then began the dance, with her shaking her hips, and gyrating suggestively to the item number. Somehow I couldn't watch it, something was too wrong about it. Also, she was biting her lips weirdly, and I could only hope it was stage fright showing, and nothing else. The young mother of the child was egging her on from just in front of the stage, performing to a small degree most of the dance steps herself. A full three minutes later, the dance ended. The crowd was in raptures. Somehow, party pooper that I am, I couldn't bring myself to clap.

I don't mean to sound like a prude here, but what on earth happened to 'Twinkle twinkle little star' and fancy dress competitions, and all those associated cute little things about childhood? Since when did 'Dil me baji guitar' replace them? I'm telling you, I may be wrong, maybe it's just me, you may have been at that dance yourself, you may not have found anything offensive, but I just think its a bit sad that a kid of six should learn to throw off her jacket and bite her lips while dancing suggestively. It just shouldn't be this way...kids, for all their jocundity, should be just that...kids. And we have to be responsible enough to let our protective instincts take over at such times.

Then we go and cry about crimes against children and child molesting. It's a sad day for the world when kids stop being kids. I bet she didn't know the meaning of the song, or the significance of her gestures. She can be pardoned. We can't, for allowing this.

Bet some of you think I'm sounding like a sad disgruntled old timer now. Well, I don't care. But what I care about is written above. I hope I made a point.

Saturday, September 15, 2007

The T20 world cup had an Australia v/s Zimbabwe match on, on Wednesday night. Now who’d be sucker enough to watch that, I thought. For those uninitiated into the world of international cricket, Australia is no less than an invincible team. Zimbabwe is pretty much a minnow, beaten by all and sundry, and just about filling up the vacancies for the tournament. After being relegated from world cricket because of a poor win-lose ratio, and being plagued by political problems within, they were hopelessly out of action. Poor Zimbabweans, I thought. And all the world must have shared the same view, as evening gave way to night, and I tuned in for the match, expecting Australia to effect a merciless spanking on what is pretty much the most impoverished team in world cricket.

There was rain prior to the start of play, and the experts predicted a tricky pitch and a sluggish outfield. Basically unsuitable conditions for batting. Australia won the toss, and Ponting (captain, you’ve gotta know that!) walked with a swagger, making almost no efforts to hide his smirk. “Well, we’re going to have a bat, you know, get some runs on the board, and put them into bat.” And he complimented his statement with the Aussie drawl, which I personally feel goes hand in hand with arrogance.

Well, so the burly Hayden and the sly Gilchrist walked into bat. The Zimbabweans looked a jittery lot. Can’t blame them, I thought. That was the point I almost lost interest and switched off the TV. It was going to be so predictable.

But something made me sit a little longer. Surprise, tight bowling and hostile conditions got the better of Gilchrist. Hayden fell a little time later, so did Ponting, and a bit of near brilliant fielding sent back the dangerous Hussey. Pretty much, the Australians were on the mat. Where were the jitters now? The Zims seemed a confident lot now, and it was as if they were possessed. The Australians ended their innings after having made 138 in their 20 overs. That was 139 to chase for Zimbabwe, at almost 7 runs per over.

It was an uphill battle, but I guess the initial burst of confidence stuck through with the Zimbabweans till the end, and they rode the storm on their own fortune, and stamped a thrilling last over win on the world number one team.

Doesn’t go to show anything great. It’s the prospect of an upset that makes a match like this interesting in the first place, but the odds of that are very very less.

And it’s right when sport is not confused with entertainment, for it’s not like a Karan Johar movie, but this incident just goes to show that the impossible does, sometimes, reveal itself occasionally.

It’s stuff like this that makes you believe in all those improbable things that you’ve dreamt of. It may be a terribly difficult battle, but it surely is worth fighting for. I’m sure none of the Australians must have slept that night, kicking themselves for the overconfidence with which they had approached. Also, none of these guys must have slept either, for joy of course.

Life’s not bad. It’s just difficult. But don’t let the struggle get to you. So what if you’re up against Australia. You just gotta be the hungry desperate Zimbabwean to win. And give hope to the world.