Thoughts of a Bemused Mind

Musician Man

2015-08-10T21:27:00.000-07:00

His cowboy hat lay reversed on the sidewalk. Carl stood behind the hat playing his saxophone. The sounds that came out of this conical shaped instrument was magical, it relaxed everyone walking by. He was playing on the intersection of Postal Street and the City Administrative office. This was right in the middle of the Business district of Xylopur. Xylopur is a small town on the outer edge of the Upar Hill range, about 100 miles from Preethban. The town was bustling with activity. It was a Monday and there was a surge of young professionals rushing to their daily grind. They walked by Carl in rapid long strides but they always felt a calm passing by the raggedy musician's intersection. The music was like the only entertainment in their long ardous day. Carl enjoyed this attention and he knew they wanted him to keep playing. He got a lot of tips to buy food, as these young professionals were all heavy pursed in their high powered stressful jobs. Playing music on the sidewalk was illegal, but the cops let it slide, as they enjoyed his music too.

Carl was a lean middleaged man with a goatee and long salt and pepper hair. The hair was held together by an old headband. The writing on the headband was blurred by sweat and use. He had light creases on his forehead and was always found wearing a polka dot T-shirt and Cargo shorts. He had a couple of tattoos to show his wild side. He had musical notes tattoed on his right forearm. He wore a Cowboy hat which lay on the floor in front of him. He played his music from sunrise to sunset with a lot of breaks, which he spent sitting on his foldable chair scribbling in his old brown book. He had been playing music on the streets from the past two years. He had suddenly appeared on the sidewalk to enlighten many lives. He mostly kept to himself just smiling at the passerby whenever they drop a coin or two. He chatted with a few interesting people. One of them was a conservationist who hailed from a tiny village in the Upar Hill ranges.

In the after hours he walked back through the tall buildings and beautiful architecture towards the darker part of the town towards his abode. He lived in a make shift abode using sticks and large plastic sheets. This dark place was called the Shuniya slums, it was an old deserted factory converted to a place of stay for the migrants of this town who did not make it big. Life was hard here. Carl always met up with some of his more needy neighbours and got them a loaf of bread and cheese when he had the chance. One of the lucky dwellers who got his charity was an old lady called Martha. She was about 79 years, she had trouble walking due to arthiritis. It looked like she was plumb in her youth but she had withered away and had been a shadow of herself.
"Marthaaa..!!" he said in a loud tone
"Carl!! Stop shouting, I am old not deaf" said Martha in a loud but playful voice.
"Ok Ok.. I got you some bread and cheese, you silly old bat" chuckled Carl.
"Again the same thing, when are you going to get me the flat noodles I asked for Sonny boy" she said with a naughty smile.
"I have ordered it and they will be delivering it to you in about never" said Carl.
"You are good for nothing Sonny boy" said Martha munching on the bread and the cheese.
He did not wait for her to say bye, he just left and went back to his abode of plastic and sticks. It was a well guarded fort surrounded by a pack of dogs. He walked among the dogs and threw small pieces of bread and cheese at them. He had also managed to scavenge a couple of dozen bones left behind in the bin at the local eatery in front of the post office. The dogs were really happy, they were all wagging their tails at Carl and looked at him with thankful eyes. After the food was gorged upon, they went back to their seats continuing their guard duty. Carl looked like the Alpha dog or a celebrity with a 24/7 posse of guards surrounding his stick and plastic castle. Not that he had anything in there to guard. It only had a lamp, a couple of brown books, a dozen pencils, a sharpner,an erazer and a photo of a beautiful woman dressed in a expensive flowing dress.

The lady in the photo was giving a reassured smile to the camera and the photo seemed to have captured the glint in her eye. Every time Carl looked at the photo he started teary eyed but ended up with a smile. He never knew why he had this reaction. He looked away, started scribbling in his brown book under his led light. Thought for a while and then went to sleep. The next day he woke up to the barking of his gang of hounds. They were barking at a rat or a squirrel. He woke up dusted his clothes. He said bye to Martha and headed back to the Town square. He set up his seat and speaker and was ready to begin before the young crowd began their march towards their destinations. The crowd started to march through then suddenly a man passed by and suddenly stopped. He stood there staring at Carl. Carl did not have a lot of spectators in the morning, he continued playing one of his masterpieces. The young man was overjoyed he couldn't stop smiling. He did not move he listened to him intently and then when Carl stopped, he came forward and started to him with a very friendly and respectable voice.
"Hi Edward" said the young man
"Hi, but I am not Edward, my name is Carl, you must be mistaking me for somebody" said Carl
"Hi Carl, I am Gregory. I am your son." said the young man
"Gregory? I dont know anybody called Gregory, you might be mistaking me for somebody else" said Carl
"That tune that you played just now, is the tune that you played to me when I was a kid" said Gregory
Carl was confused and started feeling uneasy. Gregory was hunting for a picture in his purse for a photo. He took out a photo from his purse and showed it to Carl. It was Carl (younger version where he had short hair and clean shaved face) wearing a formal suit. The photo also had the beautiful woman from the photo he had and a little rolly polly little brat. Carl was shocked he did not remember this photo ever being taken. But alas he never remembered anything else about his past too. He refused to listen to Gregory and started playing again. Gregory sat on the parapet of the post office and listened to him play, he sat there till the sunset and when Carl finished his set. He approached him again and gave him a couple hundred rupees and left. Carl went to the Indo-chinese vendor near the post office and picked up a two packs of flat noodles, a plate of tandoori and let for his abode. He entered Martha's tent and called out in a loud voice
"Marthaaa!!! You asked for flat noodles and here they are" said Carl
"Don't fool an old lady who is almost on her death bed Sonny boy" said Martha
She got up and put on her spectacles and looked closely at Carl's hand, the box had some chinese looking alpabets on them. She couldn't believe her eyes. She had not had good nourishing tasty food for ages now. Her mouth was used to bread and cheese and nothing else for the past two years. Carl and Martha used to eat only cheese and bread.
She slowly came forward in the tent and got the box from Carl. Opened it and with closed eyes enjoyed the smell of the noodles for about five minutes. Then she ate it really slowly till the box was empty and clean.
"Why did you get me just one box, now I will not be able to eat cheese and bread tomorrow" yelled Martha and hugged Carl
He had finished his noodles too and he bid her goodbye and left her tent. His pack was waiting for him. They smelled the food on their leader, he immediately threw the tandoori pieces among his posse. They had the best meals of their lives too. Carl went to the tent and sat on his chair, looked at the picture and thought of the good samaratin who had allowed him to treat his family to the a scrumptious meal. He was also curious of the photo of the beautiful woman the stranger had in his pocket. Who is that kid.. Is that stranger named Gregory his son? Why does he feel the sensation of happiness whenever he looked into the eyes of the beautiful woman in the photograph. He switched of the light and went into a deep slumber.

Next Day he went to the Town square and Gregory was waiting on the parapet. Carl went to him and decided he was ready to talk to him but he wanted to meet the lady in the picture. Gregory was excited and happy. He immediately held Carl by his hands and started walking towards the Parking Garage. The army of young people were all looking at Carl, expecting the soothing music of the Saxophone. But today there was silence. Carl followed Gregory towards the Parking Garage. This was a major change of route for Carl. He had alway stuck to a routine and it had not changed for two years. This was the first time he was walking away from his abode, his place of music and his life. He sat in the Car alongside Gregory. Gregory was like a little kid continously looking at Carl and smiling with jerky movements. He started his car and drove about 100 miles from Xylopur and about 200 miles from the Upar Hill Range. They eventually arrived at a large mansion with a huge porch and Gregory parked his car in the porch while a valet took the keys from Gregory and parked the car somewhere in the large property. Carl climbed the huge stairway and entered the huge door behind Gregory.
"Mom!!! Mom!!" shouted Gregory
"Hold on, dont shout honey, I'm coming down" said the woman from the top floor
The woman started coming down the stairs, Carl looked into her eyes, he saw the same glint. Carl rushed towards her and hugged her. He felt a sense of completeness. The woman also started crying. Gregory, his mom and Carl all went to the living room and sat there.
"Carl, this is your wife, Linda. Mom and you were involved in an accident two years ago and we found mom but never found you. The police did a search all across the three districts but they thought u were either lost in the Preethban forest where the accident happened or eaten by a wild animal. We dont know how you reached Xylopur" explained Gregory
"I dont know how I reached Xylopur, but I am happy to be with Linda, I looked at her every night for those two years" said Carl
Next day Gregory took Carl to the Doctor and did some checks, he had Post Traumatic Amnesia, he had forgotten everything in the past but had held on to Linda's face. He had to build his life again. Gregory explained to him that Edward was a CEO of a manufacturing company and was doing really well before the accident. Gregory had taken over the business after Edward was lost.
"Please call me Carl son, I dont remember Edward" said Carl
Gregory nodded with agreement. His father had changed in the course of these two years. He was now a musican and not a high powered businessman. Carl wanted to go back to his abode in Xylopur and help out Martha, his posse and also collect his brown books.
Carl got a clean shave and fresh pair of clothes and shoes.
Gregory accompanied Carl to Shuniya slums, they took one of their Vans with them.
When Carl entered the Shuniya slums he was stared at, he looked completely different.
Carl went straight to Martha's tent. Put his head inside and shouted
"Marthaaaaa!! You old bat get out of that tent of yours, I am going to feed you enough flat noodles till you die"
Martha crawled out and looked at him and said "Who are you Mister" and then she rubbed her eyes again and looked at him with more clarity and said "Sonny boy is that you? What happened to you? Did you find a treasure hidden under your tent or somethin"
"Something like that" said Carl
Gregory and Carl helped her into the front of the Van.
He then went to his tent and lured his pack with a couple of tandoori pieces to the back of the Van. They then drove to his palatial house. He released the dogs in his huge garden to run freely. They never went hungry again and Carl made it a point to meet them every evening at Sunset.

Martha was given a room in their house and was given the best food. She was also treated by the best doctors. She had happiest time in her life. Then in about three years one Friday,she died in her sleep.
Carl enjoyed a relaxed family life with Linda and visited Xylopur couple of times in a week to play for his eager audience.
His brown books contained a lot of compositions he had written in the two years he was lost.
Life was good for Carl.

Animal Instinct

2015-08-07T02:37:00.000-07:00

Splash! The pebble just disappeared beneath the film of clear water. That was my third attempt at stone skipping. I can be considered one of the worst stone skippers in the village. My school had just finished and I was under my favorite banyan tree by the lake passing time. The village did not have a lot of recreational activities for kids, we busied ourselves with mundane games like stone skipping, marbles or gilli danda. Our village was tiny settlement of farmers with the Preethban forest in the south and the Upar hill range on the north. A wide opening in the hill range provided us with a connection to the outside world. But hardly any kids ventured out of the village as there was nothing much outside except a path that went on till the eyes could meet. Our villagers were used to cutting down the forest and farming their lands. Every year a tiny portion of the forest would be consumed by our village. It was like a monster biting into a big loaf of bread. Every year I could see animals getting pushed back into a little box or hunted down. Every year the villagers blamed the animals of encroaching into their land. The land on which they were born and the land which was their home. I always empathized with the animals as I was like them. My parents had a house, a farm and I had toys, but one day when I was little I saw my dad being dragged out of the house by the village head, I never saw him again. My mom followed him and I did not see her too. Some villagers took me out of the house and I could hear people shouting loudly and destroying my house. Then some villagers brought fire sticks and lit fire to our house and our farms, everything was ablaze. I was homeless, I was deserted, I had no where to go. I felt like the poor innocent animals of the forest. I was shifted to this community home where other kids like me stayed. The villagers said my parents had done something really wrong and had left the village and were never going to come back, but I knew they would be back for me. The animals always returned to their homes, even though they were hunted, why would my parents not return. The community home was nice, the lady taking care of us was a middle aged lady who always wore a white sari. Her name was Nirmala, she cooked average tasting food and provided us with clothes, books and took care of us when we were sick. I liked her a lot.

Spash Splash! I was able to get two bounces out of that flat rock. I had just sprung about 50 places in the top ranked stone skippers in the village. I was accompanied by Karun, Kriti and Aparajith under the banyan tree. They were witness to history. We always visited the edge of the forest near the lake after school. The banyan tree was our hangout spot where we discussed our futures. We all had quests to leave the village and do something about our lives. My quest was to search my parents and save the animals. Suddenly I spotted a reddish orange streak of fur among the tall grass on the edge of the
forest. It was then followed by a black streak. I froze and asked the others to keep quiet.
"What's going on there" shouted Karun
I just Shhhh'ed him. He got the message and he simmered down. I could see two gem colored eyes with black lines staring right at me. I stood still and looked at them. It felt like I looked into them for minutes, while it was just a glance. It looked at me again and then hustled through the bushes into the forest. We were scared and excited at the same time. The other's also saw him. We fell in love with that elegant beast. It was a confusing feeling.
"Dont tell Mukhiya" I said to the other's."This is our secret". Mukhiya was our village head
"Why??!!" said Karun and Kriti
"They will hunt him down and we will never see him again"
I got them all to promise and they agreed. Also this made us feel proud and happy. We now had something to look forward to. Every day after school we visited the banyan tree, wait for the tiger till sunset and leave. We saw him once every five days or sometimes alternate days, there was no set schedule. The tiger made his own destiny, he didn't have to follow a routine. He does what he wishes. A couple of times we made eye contact. A somber eye contact but with no aggression, as if he understood me. We named him Preeth, after the forest. I wanted to be like him free, not shackled by the village, making my own rules and riding into the open world not knowing what I encounter next.

A couple of years went by, the village was again ready to slice up the forest and burn the beautiful green trees. They had exhausted all the land and now were ready to gorge some more. They chopped down a kilometer of forest and nothing was left, I could see bird's nest and some small animals in the debris. It was a massacre, the tiny birds who stood their ground, did not have a chance. We still visited our banyan tree, but we could only see barren land now. Days joined together to form months, we did not see Preeth. I grew sadder everyday but was happy he did not come to the lake as the villagers were ruthless. The season turned to summer and the earth was parched. I was thirsty all the time. The river provided us with water. The river was now part of the village. We were sitting in our community house with our study books when I suddenly heard loud noises and people running with sticks. It spawned bad memories and I did not like it, I was afraid and scared, but also sad and I had that strange feeling in the pit of my stomach. Karun, Kriti, Aparijith and me all came out of our house and asked the passing villagers what happened.
One of them stopped and said "A tiger was spotted near the lake in front of the banyan tree. It was here to hunt our children and lifestock and we will not let it do so." and then he began running towards our banyan tree with that look of mad rage. We stood there shocked. None of us uttered a word. They all knew how much I loved Preeth. We went into our community house and sat there hopeful that Preeth goes back into the forest and never comes out again. After an hour the voices became louder near our house, we heard a thud in our courtyard. I could see a huge majestic beast standing in our courtyard with a shiny orange-yellow sheen and black lines painted on it. He was looking around searching for something. Our room doors were locked and we saw him through the window. He looked right into my eyes, he found me. He shouldn't have but he did. I started tearing up but I composed myself. I tried getting out of the room door but Nirmala did not allow that. Preeth just jumped through a small gap in the terrace and left. Everyone in the community house was relieved, except me. I was sad and hoped Preeth escaped. The villagers continued their hunt and eventually found him near a tank drinking water and shot him. They were happy the hunters were revered as heroes. Everything went back to how it was. Preeth had just wanted some water from his lake. He was the king of the jungle, he was not going to back off, it was not in his nature and that led to his death. I missed him.

I eventually finished my school, went to the city and studied hard and finished my college and became a Wildlife conservationist. I traveled the whole world and visited many forests in the hopes of rescuing as many Preeth's as I could. My search for my parents ended very fast, as I learned that the villagers had killed my parents due to some petty village politics. My ultimate revenge on the villagers was the conversion of the Preethban into a nature reserve. The lake was freed from the villagers. The banyan tree stood strong and the grass grew back. My childhood view from the banyan tree was restored.

The Runner - Post 2

2015-08-03T11:24:00.000-07:00

The Runner - Post 1

The cold night, the crawling rats, the blanket of dark sky dotted with twinkling stars, the hardness of the park bench, I did not have to close my eyes, I was living a nightmare. The days were spent scavenging and begging for food. The search for a job was futile. I thought of memsahib all the time. I was extremely hungry. I was angry all the time. I wanted nourishment. I also had a fever. Everytime I passed by the bakery I would look at the hot white loaf of bread, with light brown bottoms, staring at me with goggle-eyes. They looked scrumptious. They were kept on the counter, in the front of the bakery to attract people with money. My hunger and fever got the better of me. I could no longer withstand the charms of the processed wheat flour dough. I sneaked one loaf, I turned back with an awkward moment. A seasoned thief would have stolen the bread in one swift singular motion, like a hawk going after its prey. I being a rookie, commited the crime in a set of disjoint moments, which was spotted by the shop owner. I started running, but being hungry and sick did not help. I was caught and taken to the nearby police station.

The police station was quite large, I was taken to the head constable. He looked like a furious man. I did not have to steal a loaf of bread to make him furious. His face looked naturally furious. I was afraid, he gave me a look of disappointment. I was still looking at the roof over my head. It had been three weeks since I had a roof over my head. A snap of fingers by the head constable got me back to reality. Then the yelling started, it was piercing my ears like little pins of shreik. I could not run from this. Once the yelling subsided, I was sure I was going to be thrown in jail. The Head Constable said he was letting me go with a warning. I was overjoyed. After all the joy gushed out, I realised it was back to the hunger and scavenging. The happiness was so brief. I realised if I was in jail, I would have food, a place to stay, company. Alas! I had been freed with a warning. Before leaving Daroga Saheb (Head Constable) asked me for my address. I told him I was homeless, but I always go to the library in the daytime. Daroga Saheb kept looking at me through his telescopic glasses with twitchy eyes. I felt he had a condition with his eyes, but the twitching was intermittent.

I got out of the police station and back onto the streets. I was still hungry, I decided to beg at a traffic signal rather than bring forth the ire of Daroga Saheb. Those twitchy eyes, the frowny face still gave me the chills. I tried a couple of times to go to a studio and try my luck. They asked me to leave, thinking I am a beggar. When I persisted, they threatened to call the cops. A few days went by, my bollywood dream began dwindling. I was seeing “The End” before my movie began. I started thinking of going back to Memsahib, she would forgive me and take me back. I started begging and saving money to buy tickets to go home. I was returning to my palace. I was going to run from Bollywood.

The days went by I was getting good at begging. I knew the right times , the patterns , the kind of people who were willing to part with their money to help the unfortunate. I needed to beg for another week to be able to save money to buy my return tickets. I continued going to the library daily after the morning rush hour. The books helped me escape, I was able to float out of my current state and imagine being in a world created by the author. I was sitting with my book on a corner chair hidden from the view of people. I felt safe. The librarian was a good natured lady who liked me. She helped me pick my books, my adventures. She did not judge me by my appearance. I was glad. I hoped everyone in the world were as kind as her and memsahib. I was sitting in my chair lost in the fantasy world when suddenly I heard footsteps coming towards me. I assumed it must be the librarian, so I continued reading my book, the footsteps stopped in front of me, I raised my eyes a little, it was not the librarian. They were size 10 brown polished shoes, I was afraid to look, I had seen those shoes before, I had seen them at the police station. Those shoes belonged to the frowny faced, twitchy eyed Daroga Sahib. I tried recalling if I had done anything wrong. I immediately fell at his feet and started apologizing for any wrong I had commited. He asked me to stand up, looked at me, gave me a C-shaped smile and told me to calm down. If I had not done anything wrong why did the Daroga Sahib come to the library for. I was confused. He asked me to come out with him. I walked beside him. The library door opened, we were back into the day, the sun was shining hard. I saw a beautiful black Jaguar standing outside. Daroga Sahib pointed me towards the car and told me something that got me thinking of a million possibilities in a fraction of second. Our brain processes things so fast. An entire lifetime of imagination can be compressed into a snap of second, I could be living in a large palace, bathe in a sauna, star in my own movie, have a Bollywood Ending. The words that came out of Daroga Sahib’s mouth were “He’s your Father”. After the moment of extravagance, reality set in. An old man with furry grey brow, a sharp moustache, partially wrinkled forehead, white uniform and a white cap steps out of the Jaguar. He was my Dad. I forgot about Bollywood, I forgot about the palace, the sauna. A strange feeling of happiness gushed in, seemed like my run was complete. I was still clueless, but I rushed forward and hugged him, he did not mind my dirty clothes. He hugged me as if he did not want to let me go. There were tears rolling down his eyes. He kept apologizing, I said it was ok. I felt a sense of completeness.

My dad narrated to me the flashback. I was a naughty kid, my parents were travelling from Mumbai to our village, my parents were sleeping, when I got of the bus, the bus left and I was left stranded in an unknown place. My father kept coming to the police station everyday and showed Daroga Sahib my photo. I now realised why the Daroga Sahib kept twitching his eyes when he looked at me. This was better than a Bollywood ending. My run had finally stopped, I was home. I had reached the end of the Road. It was time to rest.

The End

The Runner - Post 1

2015-08-03T10:58:00.000-07:00

The sun was beating down on the reddish brown footpath.. The little sand particles gleamed like little diamonds. They reminded me of those little bags of diamonds that were smuggled from one country to another in Bollywood movies. I have never seen a real diamond in my life but I like the way they look on TV. I was brought back to reality by the motorcyclist behind me, he had somehow got on to the footpath. It was as if the big red bus had pushed him of the street.. I walked on and reached Iyengar’s bakery. I ordered the two eggs and a bread that memsahib had ordered. Memsahib belonged to a middle class family, she was a very nice person. I was staying at their place for ten years now. I broke out of my orphanage at 10, because life there was monotonous.. I ended up begging on the street. One day when memsahib was passing by, she stopped and took me in. I was asked if I would like to go back to the orphanage. I refused to go. She allowed me to stay at her place. She educated me. I helped her in her work. I was given a room. This is the first time I had an entire room to myself. I treated it like my palace.. I was extremely lucky. It was so much better than the orphanage, I had my own freedom, I wasn’t a pea in a pea-pod. I was an individual here. I used to sit outside my little room and watch TV.. I loved watching Hindi movies. They always ended on a happy note. I wanted to be happy.

I always had this feeling, I was born for greatness. I always wondered Bollywood would be my ultimate destination. I always felt safe when I watched Bollywood movies. I escaped into a world of ultimate happiness. The songs, the jokes, the huge mansions, the fancy cars and the make believe rich parents. Life was good. I totally forgot work, orphanage, street sounds for two and a half hours. I forgot me, I was the protagonist. Problems disappeared. I always suggested to Memsahib, I wanted to go to Mumbai. She always said it was a bad idea. Life is not as easy as they show it in Bollywood movies.

I was a runner, I wrote a letter thanking memsahib. I bid farewell to my palace, picked up my money box, shoved it into my bag and slowly sneaked out into the darkness of the night. Memsahib must have been disappointed, but a bird has to fly away from its nest when it learns to fly. She taught me to fly and I will always be grateful for that.

I caught a bus for Mumbai, I felt excited and sad. I felt like the day I ran from the orphanage ten years ago. This time I had a goal, I was going to work in Bollywood and life was going to be happy. I had done my research, I was a good dancer. I practiced acting in front of the mirror for the last five years. My only hindrance was I still looked like a kid. Memsahib had told me, I still looked like I did ten years back. I did not mind that. They could not say no to me. I was prepared. The bus journey was calm. The chitter chatter of the fellow passengers was like a chorus song. The sound of the rickety bus sounded like Shiva Mani’s drums. The car horns sounded like shehnai. Bollywood had beckoned.

The sun was still getting up. The sky was a mix of bluish grey portion of day and a dark grey portion of night, with a few stars, half a moon, half a sun.. The planetary bodies were still half asleep. Bollywood was wide awake. The roads were full. The people walked around with purpose. Nobody seemed to notice me, but that was short lived. I was going to be hunted for autographs. I was awakened by a rickshaw guy. I declined. I asked around and found a place to stay. I could afford the place for only two weeks. My next goal was to find a job.

I set off into battle into the hustle-bustle of Mumbai. It was like getting into a local bus in my hometown, a push here, a shove there, or you were left stranded alone in the lonely bus stand. Every job here had competition. I was stunted by my limited knowledge of Hindi and my baby face. People were not sure I was mature enough to handle responsibility. Buses came and went, I kept getting stranded. The magic of Bollywood was not working. It had been two weeks, there was no song sequence celebrating my success. My reserve money was spent, I was lonely, hungry and out on the streets. I wanted to run. I could not, I was getting pulled into the quicksand.

Innumerable

2015-08-02T12:55:00.001-07:00

One night, I was walking under the dark sky, the power suddenly went off. I scrunched my eyes to make an adjustment to the darkness, but to my surprise the night was still bright, for the first time in about ten years I had seen the sky beautiful and in its full brilliance. The moon was huge, white and bright. I could see my path ahead with its pale yellow light. There are innumerable stars in the sky all sparkling with different colors. I also saw a shooting star flying by. I just stood there enjoying an event of rarity which was unique in this day and age.

I could only hear the crickets chirp, the wind bustling through the grass, the falling leaves and the distant frog bellowing as loud as he could to get the attention of its potential mate. There was no cacophony of sounds. The television had gone into a deep slumber.. The computers had shut down.. I could see tiny glimmers of mobile phones everywhere, but I did not want to disturb myself from an event of such magnitude.

The world had stopped still for a moment. It wanted to give us a minute to explore our true surroundings. I could slowly see in a distance, the flickering of the fluorescent lights and wave of white light sweeping over the buildings covering the night sky with a haze of our human blanket. I bid adieu to the night sky and the twinkling stars and continued my journey to my next destination.

Superhuman

2015-08-02T00:48:00.003-07:00

The word superhuman gives rise to pictures of mythical creatures, men in tights, blue crystals, black hoods and a bunch of really bizarre out of this world villains. In the hullabaloo of this modern world an escape to a reality where life is simple and crime struck. Where good and evil fight on the streets with revolutionary gadgets and flashy motorcycles. A place where a car is falling from the 40th floor and missing every pedestrian on a busy Sunday morning. Life seems perfect in a superhuman world. The obsession of superhuman strength has led humans become superhuman and they didn't even realize it.

Imagine a human from the 1940’s getting thrown into this bizarre world of the 2010’s . His world would be full of awe and open-mouthed revelations. And you open the door and you step inside ( I had to make a reference to Fight Club, the best movie of the previous millennium*), and lo and behold we are in Bengaluru 2015.

The kids gaping into a magical portal of wonder throwing white light and colors at them. They seem to be happy with a set of blue lines on their square blocks of magic. It has the power to manipulate their emotions. Some of them are crowding around this magical square block of wonder, holding it up like how Rafiki held Simba (again a previous millennia movie reference) smiling at it as if it is going to smile back.

Two wheeled and four wheeled carts zooming around with invisible buffaloes tied to them. Big large stone caves with bright stars twinkling from them. A huge metallic bird flying over the sky. People wearing hand straps, head gears, eye covers and speaking to themselves. The man from the 1940’s felt like he had landed into a land filled with superhuman.

The superhuman culture is like a template or brochure of all the new things to come. So keep an eye on them, watch them, soon you are going to be the man from the 1940’s and you will land into an era of Super Human’s and you will not know how to react. So educate yourself and be prepared (Scout motto).

An Idea

2012-01-10T10:39:00.001-08:00

The Dark night followed me,

The cool wind blew through the lonely tree,

My thoughts flowed freely,

Connected by a thread of serenity..

There was a line of light in the sky,

The big rounded clouds began to cry,

The sky lion gave a commanding roar,

A sound my thought deers could not ignore..

The sound minnions were dancing in my brain,

Passing from ear to ear in a single lane,

From a crowd of thoughts it appeared,

A small lonely idea who inspired..

The Enigma

2010-11-14T16:49:00.000-08:00

Life is a perplexing puzzle. It throws curve balls at you at a regular intervals. Thats what makes life interesting. In my case though, it was a bouncer.. I was consistently spending my weekends, with an intent to hit the clubs and make my couch stricken life into a social dream. Alas! Lethargy conquers all and brings you down on your knees, slowly allowing the days to dissipate, and dissolves the time like a burning candle. I loved the fact that sometimes life gives you a push in the right direction, forcing you to take decisions which makes a lot of sense. I imagine if it was a separate entity, it would be cursing me to waste its resources. So the push came in the form of playing Cricket. A game I have been loving, following and learning since I was a kid. This was the first time I was playing with a leather ball.
I was to be attired in pads, thigh guards, helmet and some other guards. It was a feeling of extreme suffocation and happiness all wrapped in a single package. I slowly hopped in front of the wickets. Tried positioning myself into a stance. I looked all uncoordinated and unbalanced. The bowler was waiting for me to get ready. He looks through you trying to dismantle the 3 sticks behind you, oblivious to the fact that between the sticks and the bowler stands a lone soldier wielding a 3 feet bat. I was jubilated with my first defense, but after that it was all downhill. I could not judge where my hands were, or where my feet were, it was all a combination of soft foam and skin. I connected a few shots, but thats about it. I then decided its time for me to wield the bowl and torment a few batsmen, giving me an opportunity to extract my pound of flesh. The devil inside me was awakened, I moved to the dark side. I began rushing towards the batsmen and bowling at the stumps, I did not see the batsmen standing there, he was a entity which I had eliminated from the realms of my reality. I bowled well. I was satisfied. I had tamed my hunger. I started realising I was going to play for a team. All the images of the past stared raising its head.. The time when I belonged to a team, the time when we competed against neighborhood colonies. It was a Wonder Years moment, sans Winnie Cooper.. Life is a perplexing puzzle, and I am still solving it.. Adiós for now..

Lie

2010-11-14T16:48:00.000-08:00

Unreal is this dream I had,

The characters of which were bad,

The dark sea and the gory sky,

I hope I did not tell that lie

It taunts me and follows me around,

I am in a casket in the ground,

My vision soaring in the sky,

I hope I did not tell that lie

I am falling into an abyss deep,

As you sow, so you reap,

My emotions are making me cry,

I hope I did not tell that lie

Hope

2008-12-06T06:30:00.000-08:00

The hazy skies,
The pain inside,
The cloud of opportunities,
Locked inside..

The sword of lightning,
Striking through the clouds,
The clouds open up,
Releasing the pain inside..

The drops of life,
Fall out of the skies,
The paddy fields,
Look at the sky and smile..

Watchman Chacha

2008-12-02T18:19:00.000-08:00

The gate closed with a clank. I looked at the back of the shiny coated Hyundai Santro. It looked nice. From the back of the vehicle, i could see a little head bob out. Then i saw a tiny hand wave at me. It was the kid from building number 3. The kids revered me. It was kind of phenomenon, that even educated people did not understand. Till the kids boarded the kindergarten bus they behaved differently. Once they got into the primary school bus, things were different. This kid boarded the kindergarten bus and to him I was Watchman Chacha. The superhero watchman who carried a pistol and who protects the little ones from bandits and ghosts (I never had a pistol, but they had an imagination, and i got caught up in it). I liked it. I had been a watchman for 25 years and little things like this kept me motivated. Everyone wants to be a superhero. I already was. My children had also climbed the primary bus, high school bus, college bus and finally the work bus. They were all happily settled. My partner, my heroine had passed away 2 years ago. To a deadly epidemic which doctors called a name I could not pronounce. I continued fighting crime alone, it was difficult, but i had to go on.. The children expected that from me.

Point A to B..

2008-11-27T18:39:00.000-08:00

I am cutting through the wind at break neck speeds. The wind cooling the side of my cheeks. The whoosh of the wind, rattling of the various parts of the chariot, children screaming, the nonchallant chit chat of the people down below are vibrating on my ear drums. Its like a little kid using my ear drum as a trampolin to jump up and down. I am oblivious of all these happenings. I am not worried of the pending work, I am chilled about the voracious todo list, which keeps growing like jacks bean stalk(No pun intended).. My mind is engrossed in its own world, making pictures which will seize to exist in a matter of miliseconds. I sometimes feel, the world is a illusion(aka matrix style) and we are all a part of a huge atom.. And are little electron rotating around the nucleus. Maybe our world is a atom present in a giant ball, which a kid from a giant world is playing. The similarities are uncanny. The switch between the imaginary and real is quick, the eyes closed thoughts seem to be forgotten fast and are replaced with reality of the real world.. Blobs of cytoplasm standing in hordes waiting for public transport that takes them from point A to point B. A mystery which detective moi would like to solve one day.. My point B is Quantum of Solace. As soon as i am done with that, i will think of point C.. Till then chao..

Jeffed..

2008-11-26T03:03:00.000-08:00

The light seeped in and the darkness was getting covered by light.. The sun was peeking at me from between the mountains.. I shifted my head to take in more of what was happening.. My semicircular vision now encapsulated a meadow, where cows were grazing with chessboard robes. The other side had a lush strawberry fields.. I could slowly feel my feet coming alive and have a sudden urge to stand. My brain starts its engine, doing overtime to figure out, how i lay there at 180 degrees.. With a slightly damaged left jaw. I look around and walk towards my car, parked on the footpath. The keys are still in there. And then, the brain pumps a ton of blood, and it all comes back..

It all started the previous evening. I was sitting on my couch watching the sitcom "Coupling", i was chuckling at Jeffs hilarious attempts to get a girlfriend, when the phone starting crying out for attention. I was miffed, to be interrupted.. I got up to give it some attention.. It was Virat, he had got this passes for a party thrown at Taika (A disc). He gave me the responsibility to call the entire group.. We were around 20 of us. We got there by 8.. Virat was waiting there with his GF. Everybody got in. We got a table to settle down and make some noise. We eased into the place and starting jiving.. The place was hot, Jeff(remember "Coupling") would have stammered and stuttered like a rattle snake before being thrown out.. :)
Virat was dancing at the haunting trance music. I joined the dance floor after chomping into a piece of tandoori.. The DJ was cool. The crowd was hot. I needed to take a break from all the frivolous dance moves. So went to our table.. Virat's GF seemed totally drunk. She looked at me, with a gaze so sharp, a chill ran down my spine. I knew where this was leading to. She started calling me Dangz (A pivotal person from our group)."Dangz, i love u".. And smack.. The next second I looked like a drag queen with lipstick.. I looked around.. Virat was looking right me, with a stare, glaring through me. I was caught with lipstick on my face. The night was literally over for me.. It was almost 5.. I asked Virat, I needed to talk to him. He asked Dangz to take care of his GF (Irony, the police asking the criminal to follow behind with the stolen jewelery) and follow us in his car.. I drive to the meadow on the way.. We get of, I try to soften the blow first. Before revealing the story of the ungrateful GF.. I turn around. The next scene can be described as, a big bag of rocks, comes from the corner of my eye.. Time stands still(Neo style).. Followed by darkness seeping into the light of the world..
Next day we all met up and blamed it all on the intoxications.. And I decided not to interfere into the tridimensional story.. I was Jeffed(Get into situations far out of ones control)..

The Continuum

2008-11-25T22:54:00.000-08:00

The conversation that led to the meaning of life.
It started of in a very random manner, but continued to take shape.
Read on
Person A : Harry potter's birthday is on 31st July
Person B: Harry Potter is fictious
Person A : Harry potter's birthday is on 31st July
Person B: Harry Potter is fictious
Person A : So what??!! If u consider that ...then birthdays are also fictious.
After all it just comes only once in ur lifetime. You are just celebrating an imprint of that day
Nothing more to it
Person B: Its actually a day when u try to make sense why u were loaded into this world and what is ur purpose.. Its a day to reflect. Its a day to reASSess.. Its a hope tat you are living one year more. Its a sadness tat u r one year closer to not living.. It stays long after you have gone. And It is nothing..
So harry potter like a birthday is nothing.. He is a figment of our imaginations which wants us to believe there exists an ideal world like the one created in myths, so that we are taken away from the sorry lives we are leading on this monotonous planet called earth, which keeps doing one nd only one thing, tat is rotate round and round and round, and we are like insects swarming this planet.
Person A: Exactly!!
So what makes u think a Birthday is not a figment of our imagination....We were born on a day
that day is long overr...It will never come back
We have just deviced a way ..... in our imagination.......put it in words...on paper
to decide that..the same day will come back...exactly 365 days later..
Person B: It is like a hope tat when the earth rotates and rotates and comes back to the same spot again and again and again.. Our lives will be scrubbed clean on tat day and we started living anew..
Person A: ... That I would say is a figment of our imagination
Its a chance for a new begining, a change ....or rather a way for us to accept change...cos humane mind is a stikler for stagnation...but alas change is inevitable
Person B: Maybe if they throw a lonely human in a walled building and raise him there. He would rotate round and round. Thinking he should copy the world on which he stands
Person A: and will stop every once a year...... to look back....n then start again...round n round n round.

E-man vs Turtle Woman

2008-04-22T09:38:00.000-07:00

Photo courtesy unoguy

The trees made a hiss,
The situation was amiss,
The sky was pitch black,
E man came out of his shack..

His mind was very dark,
The security at the bank was stark,
His eyes turned all green,
The bank was the next scene..

He opened the safe with a gaze,
All ready for a big chase,
He heard a little sound,
Maybe its rats in the ground..

From the dark appeared,
Turtle woman the revered,
She was ready for a fight,
E man was in a big tight..

He slid across the floor,
Trying hard to reach the door,
Turtle woman used her shell,
E man tripped and fell..

The police were on their way,
E man had a really bad day,
The turtle woman hit the sack,
E man said he will be back..

Anger

2008-04-22T09:36:00.000-07:00

The mind is in a bind,

The thoughts all in rewind,

The past is raising its head,

I thought those memories were dead..

The brain is making its move,

The emotions have no clue,

The control on anger is vain,

The man inside is in pain.

The eyes are burning with desire,

To set these thoughts on fire,

The fire gives rise to rage,

The beast is out of the cage..

Imagination

2008-04-22T09:33:00.001-07:00

The carcass of ecstasy on the floor,

The murder of pleasure made me sore,

The imagination of mind to the rescue,

Ideas in the brain were very few..

The lines are slowly germinating,

The emotions so deep and penetrating,

The crime of putting pen on paper,

Before the thoughts turn into vapour..