One Small Moment Of Happiness..!!

(Sorry, it turned out to be a long post. But couldn't help it. Read it if you are patient enough. No issues otherwise. And it's been a long time. How have you all been, drop in a comment. :) )

Present……

I was getting drenched, but for a change I didn’t care. I dragged my foot along the wet mud, got into my grandfather’s old car. Again, for a change, I had the key, so I slid behind the wheel and shut the door after me. The windshield, translucent due to the relentlessly beating rain, showed me a big vehicle parked ahead; a hearse. My grandfather was sleeping in it; it was supposed to be his final journey. The door to my left, made way for my grandmother. She said to me as a tear ran down her cheek- “Follow the hearse to the cemetery.” I put the car onto ignition, clicked the wipers into action and waited to follow the hearse. The wipers danced themselves into wiping the tears off the windshield leaving our eyes craving for company.

Recent Past…..
Firing ‘hate-beams’ over the slices of bread waiting in his breakfast plate, “How can I miss you if you don’t leave…..” my grandfather managed to sing with his broken voice. My grandmother, who stood against the ‘Dressing table’ applying some kind of cream across her face, retaliated by hurling a comb at him. “Thanks for the song, hero!” he waved at me and shoved some more bread into his witty mouth. My grandmother stared at me, and I could notice that fire-balls had replaced eye-balls. So, in an attempt to please her, I said to him- “You are lucky to have such a nice wife, remember.” His mouth was full of bread, so he grunted and coughed.

A few minutes passed by, and I made a face expression suggesting it was getting late and we must be moving.

“Will you have breakfast, or will you keep painting your face?” he asked grandma.

No Reply.

“We have to get going.”

No Reply.

“Dear, can I bring the breakfast and coffee to you?”

“Yes, please.”

He stood, winked at me and said- “I’m learning. I’m learning.”

I drove along, following the hearse, across the wet streets on a cloudy afternoon. The rain had reduced to a drizzle; the world around seemed to have muted itself from us; the silence slowly pinched us into reality. As the drizzle trickled out, I put the wipers to rest and turned to my grandmother. Those tears were much harder to wipe out.



In a few minutes we were ready to leave. My grandfather sat in behind the wheel and blew the horns wildly. I had to rush grandma to the car as she fed my ears with- “What a crazy man your grandfather is!” We got in, and within two blinks, he hit the accelerator and we were cruising along the main-road.
“Do you want directions?” grandma enquired as she emptied a bottle of water.

“Do you mean, in life?”

She chuckled. “No. To the…the..…… never mind.”

My grandfather drives his car like in the American movies, where the hero is running against time to save the world from mountain sized gorillas. I observed, when in the car, grandma sits very silent. I recollect grandpa once giving me this advice- “That’s how you keep women silent. The faster you go, the silent they would be.” Though I took the advice, in this case though, it was my grandpa who needed the plastering. My grandma, on the other side, wasn’t the one to shy away. I remember her telling me- she felt much closer to God when she was in grandpa’s car than during her morning prayers.

Anyway, as he drove along like a rich, reckless teenager, me and grandma sat quietly. In front of us, a school bus made steady progress. The children in the bus made themselves busy by waving at strangers, and cheering when their bus over-took other vehicles and exchanging high-fives. I saw their expressions change as we proceeded past them; I could hear them boo’ing us. My grandfather disappointed my expectations by not waving out at them. Sometimes I exaggerate his childishness.
Anyway, we had to stop for petrol, so we pulled up at a Petrol pump. “This petrol pump is like this car’s own mother. It’s never been fed anywhere else. Ask your grandfather about this, he’ll have something stupid to say about it” my grandma whispered to me. I got down, and as I saw the petrol being pumped into the car, I had a few silly thoughts running through my head. Anyway, once grandpa completed his joke filled conversation with the petrol-guy, we were set to leave. Just about then, the school bus sailed past us, and the children screamed their lungs out cheerfully.

The road was empty and that meant that there was nothing stopping grandpa. It took less than a minute to overtake the bus. For those children, it was like their ‘Games’ period being replaced with ‘Moral Science’. This time, my grandfather waved at them. If I was in that bus, I would be so pissed off that I would have frowned and skipped my evening glass of milk. Anyway, my exaggerated assumptions about grandpa proved to be right, and I dint know if I should feel good or bad about it. Just when I thought my grandfather emerged Mr. Victorious, the car started losing pace. In a few seconds, the car coughed itself to the side and grandpa got down for the surgery. He opened the bonnet, mulled over it and later kicked the grill in disgust. I didn’t want to see those school children dancing over the aisles at our pathetic defeat. None the less I could hear the cheer as their bus whizzed past us. I got out and asked grandpa- “You said your car never gives a head-ache?” He didn’t reply, rather he just closed the bonnet, asked me to sit as he slid into his seat. He put the car into ignition and it roared without a glitch. “This is my car. I maintain it. It neither gives a headache nor a typhoid.” He released the clutch, steered the car along the road to his left and headed along.

My grandfather is not the greatest person since mankind nor did he intend to be one, but that day he exhibited traces of simple humanity. My grandfather, he gave those children some disappointment, then some thrill but ultimately a little moment of happiness. I thought maybe I was making too much of it, but I just couldn’t resist thinking that way. I began liking him; in fact I liked him a lot. I turned to grandma, and we exchanged a simple smile. That smile, somehow I could never forget. It had a story to tell.

Somewhere along the route, it dawned to me that I was driving my grandfather’s car; the one which never gave a headache; the one which he never let me touch. My grandma, next to me, sat too silent for comfort. As I threaded along, following the hearse, which had my grandfather’s body in it, I was flooded with thoughts aplenty. I craned my neck and saw through the rear view mirror something which was the last thing I wanted to see on that day. It was a school bus approaching from behind, full of children involved in their regular activity of cheering and boo’ing. Call it ‘co-incidence; call it whatever, I hated it. I was worried for my grandma. Even as thoughts ran by and emotions ran high, the school bus steadily moved ahead. The children waved at me and signaled a ‘thumbs-down’. The bus moved ahead, now right parallel to the hearse. I don’t know what went through those young, innocent minds, but I was taken aback. They realized there was a dead body in the van; they lost the smiles on their faces, motioned their hands from head to chest in such a way as to offer a prayer, then turned around and maybe started off another game or so. At that very moment, I turned to my grandmother. Amidst all those tears, she gave me another unforgettable smile. This one had a bigger story to tell.

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P.S- Snow, for me is Grey..!!

(I wrote this for Writers Lounge. The theme being 'Winter stories'. It was written with a word limit of 400 words. And for a change, it has no humor. :))

Some kind of a realization dawned. He troubled his old muscles as he glanced up at the somber sky and scratched his chin- “It will only get worse.” His cheeks were sunken and hollow; his eyes depicted poverty. It was Christmas and he was at work; he poked at the far side of the grave with his spade and it split wide open.

I love Christmas, more so for the gifts that continues to flow into the next day, my Birthday. Adoring the season’s first snow fall outside my little window, I awaited my tenth birthday. My dad owns a bakery, my mom’s a school teacher. There’s another boy in my home; dad says he’s my brother. My mom's love towards me is infinite. I love her but I hate my dad. For two reasons- he gifts nicer things to my brother; He never talks to mom. Meanwhile, the snowfall intensified and I noticed mom. She sat in a corner, her eyes, as though set deep inside their sockets. I waited for dad as she sat still, dangerously still.



He cursed the relentless snowfall, which was making his job tougher. But he had to do it, for his living. His face appeared as though it had lived with pain as a constant companion. He leaned over his spade and started to dig again.

My mom hadn’t moved an inch, I got tensed. Just then my dad arrived. He surprised me with a hug and hurried towards mom and put his arms over her shoulder. Her head collapsed into his chest. For the first time I noticed a tear drop down my dad’s cheeks. He shook her face vigorously until finally mom moved. That relieved me; the snow outside appeared better now.

He finished his job of digging, covered his face with a scarf against the snow and waited impatiently.

Within a minute, I saw my mom burst into tears. My dad hugged her and brought her to me. My mom hugged me tight; she didn’t want them to put me into the coffin. I couldn’t hug her back, I couldn’t say I loved her, I couldn’t even cry. The snow turned grey to my eyes yet again.

I had to be taken to the graveyard; the old man was waiting. I made him struggle, but I made his Christmas. My parents, I love them. By the way, my name is Kevin.


WORD COUNT = 399

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The World- It's magic..!!

The buzzing sound of the ceiling fan played a game called ‘anxiety’ amidst the playfield called ‘Silence’ as he laid down, cushioned right below it, circumferenced with ‘Darkness’. The clock ticked revealing an hour, by which he should have been fast asleep ; Dead for the day. An unresistable drop of tear trickled down to his ears, wetting the earphones which were respiring a few emotion-reviving-instrumental-compositions. He wiped the tears off his temples as his eyes transfixed itself glaring at the seemingly-infinite ceiling. He envisioned a hugely built entity, The World waging a stern battle against him. The World flashed accusations at his face which put him into a straggled stance in between ‘acceptance’ and ‘denial’. He was right or wrong, he couldn’t draw the line. For the moment though, the pain and the anguish in him sought for replacement as the oppressiveness tended to erupt its way out. His mind questioned- “Do I deserve this???” continued as though searching for something- “ God??”. He cleared his throat and heard his voice quiver- “ I’m hurt.” A growing silence (in his head) is all what he got in response.


The clock struggled to strike 6, but as it did, he grabbed a chair, dragged it to the window and sat resting his elbows on the frame with his fists supporting his jaws. The sun, his saviour, hadn’t made it’s entry yet. Alongside, he noticed a woman- his neighbour trace a colourful rangoli design over the wet, freshly watered entrance of her house. A distant sound of bells from a nearby temple caught his ears. The wind whistled across the branches, through the leaves to find his face as it slapped a quantum of freshness on his tear-wiped face. He exposed his head out the window, inhaled deeply, walked in and sensed the freshness of his toothpaste.




He retrieved his aged, unused bicycle and peddled along the silent street. Just like the good deeds of a silent man, the first rays of the yet-out-of-sight-sun hit the earth tailing off it’s darkness. The pleasant duskiness lured his mind unconsciously into a gallery of nostalgia. He cycled along ; noticed a milk van, an early ‘factory’ bus, the whitish-looking water in the lake and the peeping sun behind the bald trees.

He rested the bicycle on it’s stand and headed into a large expanse of greenery. He entered the park and glanced at the merely visible sky through the branches curving out of the tall torsos. He walked along the pathway advancing through the slides and the swings in the children’s play area to his left and a series of benches to his right. He strolled along until he found the bark of a tree and sat over the wet grass resting his back to the unready furniture. Now, the sun well out as it climbed up the tall trees, he could notice a whole lot of people in the park. The joggers began their run while the oldies in the 'laughter club' laughed their hearts out.



An hour passed as the bow on his lips switched directions. Though not a complete smile, he was sure his face got broader, his cheeks weighed lighter, his eyes opened wider, he respired deeper but couldn’t figure out why. He’d neither talked to anyone nor did his problem see an end. Only his unconsciousness-self cognized the magic that had bechanced. The very same- ‘The World’, which he had thought was waging a stern battle against him, exhibited it’s face- The face of ‘felicitousness’ ; It’s happy face ; People’s driving force. While all these thoughts wandered through his rekindled mind, a blue-jean, white-sweat-shirt clad old man walked up, sat beside him and threw his old arm over the young shoulder and cleared that little unsettled, what-so-ever feeling that he had. The old man went on in a cheerful tone-

“Every morning in Africa, a gazelle wakes up knowing it must run faster than the lion or be killed.

Every morning, a lion awakens knowing it must outrun the slowest gazelle or starve to death.

It doesn’t matter if you are a lion or a gazelle.

When the sun comes up, you’d better be running.”

An old lady, probably the old man’s wife came by and completed –

“ Once you get into grips with this game, trust me you’ll be one hell of a runner.”

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A Rendezvous, Unique and Special..!!

(I've posted this on WL, dint want to post it here, but then this is one of my personal favourites. I loved writing this. Again, an attempt made trying to drift from humour..!! Thank You.)

Darkness engulfed the horizon, enveloped with dull red clouds throwing an impression as though the stars were hibernating behind the red blanket when a small thunder erupted, and the first drop of rain raced on its descent, as it splashed on Mr. Aravind’s forehead. Withdrawing his legs from his recliner, he stood right there in his small garden and threw a pale stare at the red sky which was beginning to cry. He snatched his glasses and his half sampled novel from the rain, and headed back to the door into his simple little home for dinner. His cook, a man in his sixties, the only other person who lived with Aravind, rushed to him to inform- “Sir. You have a call on your phone. It’s from London.” He passed the phone and evaporated into the kitchen.

“London? Shriya! Who else would it be? I don’t know anyone from there. And Shriya would never call, she vowed to never call me again. What the hell is this call for?” he began to disturb his mind. “ Or, maybe it’s Mr. Singh, Shriya’s only family friend and a mentor.” He thought. He unwillingly drew the receiver into his ears and said- “Hello.”

“Hello Aravind. I’m Mr. Singh calling from London.”

“Oh, Mr. Singh! What made you to be reminded of me all of a sudden?”

“Aravind….” With a small pause surrounded by the sounds of heavy breath, he continued- “ Shriya.”

“What about Shriya? She’s gone. It’s been 10 years since our divorce Mr. Singh. What about her now? What’s her problem? Tell her that she doesn't deserve me anymore.”

“Sorry, but she is actually dead Aravind. Last night. Called to inform you that.”
Aravind felt a cold shiver run through his body. He dropped himself onto his bed and mustered his voice and said-“ Okay.”

“One more thing, Aravind.”

“What?”

“She has a kid, a boy of 9 years old. And more importantly” he paused and continued-“He’s your child too.”

For a moment there was a silence across both sides of the globe. Aravind was stunned beyond speech.
“Aravind, are you still there? Hello.”

“Yeah. What on earth are you talking about?”

“I know you must be shocked by this Aravind. But it’s true. It came to light just after you both separated. Shriya insisted in not letting you know about it. But now, I feel, after being her only confidant, it’s my duty to tell you about this.”

“Okay.”

“ Aravind. She’d never had too many known people around here. What I mean to say is- would you like to keep the boy with you Aravind?” Mr. Singh asked shakily.

“Mr. Singh, I’m just hating myself, her and you for this situation. Why should I believe you that he’s my son? Even if I do, I’m not responsible…………..” He stopped without saying anything further. “No thanks Mr. Singh.” He said and cut the line.

One week later, at the Bangalore International airport.


Aravind was pacing back and forth in the Arrivals’ Lounge of the airport waiting for his son’s arrival. After a hard battle between his mind and his heart, he had finally called Mr.Singh to convey his agreement to guard his own son. And here he was, in the airport waiting for his son’s arrival. He was told by Mr. Singh that the boy was never informed about Aravind as his father. “I’ll take care of that. You don’t tell him anything.” He had ordered, replying to Mr. Singh.
The announcement was made that the Air India flight from London had just landed. A crowd began to form around the exit area. And suddenly Aravind felt nervous. He had been too distracted to allow himself to think what he might feel when he would actually see his son in flesh and blood.

He noticed that people began coming out into the exit area as he began craning his head to catch a glimpse of his son. A minute later, he noticed a young lady of ‘Air India’ approaching, along with a small boy, holding his hands, towards the exit area where Aravind was waiting. Aravind approached her, confirmed her that he was that Mr. Aravind and the lady obliged, kissed the little boy on his cheek and walked back. Now, suddenly, the two of them were on their own. Aravind, glanced down the boy. Does he look anything like me, he thought.

“Thank you, Sir, for offering me to stay with you awhile.” He said in a cute, British accent.

Aravind felt his blood rushing. He had just heard his son’s voice. “Yes my dear.” He smiled and tried to carry the little boy but in vain and said with a smile- “oops..You are a strong boy! What’s your name?”

“Sorry sir, forgot to tell you. I’m Aryan.”

Aravind couldn’t help a smile as he clasped the boy’s luggage bag with one hand and held the boy’s, his son’s, little hand with the other and began to walk to the parking bay.

“How far is the Taj Mahal from here, Sir? Can you take me there?” the little boy asked.

Aravind couldn’t control a smile as his eyes began to become moist, said- “ Surely. I’ll take you to all the famous places in India. Alright?”

“Thank You, Sir.”

They reached their car, put the luggage behind and took the front seats. As they were about to leave, the little boy asked- “ Sir, Singh uncle told me, you were my mother’s best friend? She was my best friend too.”

Aravind controlled himself, held his palms on the boy’s little cheeks and said- “ I liked her a lot, Aryan.” He smiled as a drop trickled down his eyes.

“Sir, can I catch some sleep here? I’m sleepy. Would you mind, Sir?” he said again with his cute British accent.

Aravind couldn’t control it anymore, he grabbed and hugged the little boy tightly, kissed him on his forehead, then on both his cheeks and said- “Aryan. Dear, I’m not ‘Sir’. Call me ‘Daddy’”


They headed home, drawing a lovely picture of their rekindled future.

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First Salary..!! Final Journey..!!

The building contractor counted out- “8..9..10” and pushed the money into Charan’s hands. Charan bowed to him with exceeding happiness and utmost pleasure for having just received his first ever salary. His eyes caught the bruise on his left hand, which chanced sometime while lifting bricks all day. But for now no pain was a pain that would engulf his happiness. The clock struck 6 and the sun sank down the west which all meant that it was time to head back to his small home. He washed, tidied himself, hung his lunch carrier onto his shoulder and began walking home. He felt it heavier than usual on his shoulders and that’s when it struck to him that he had not had his lunch this afternoon. He never enjoyed his grandmother’s scolding for bringing back the lunch box untouched. He spotted a small, empty parkland to his right hand side and entered it & found himself a bench to have his 'sunset' lunch. He spread a cloth across the dusty bench, placed the lunch box on it and began eating. As he ate, he wondered what all he could do with his first earning. The first thing, he thought would be to tell grandmother that she need not work anymore. Then he thought he should save some money and buy a bicycle for himself. Meanwhile, he noticed a middle aged person with a stolid look on his face arrive and sit on the bench situated opposite to him. The weather was cold and the man was well covered with a woolen sweater and a muffler. It struck to him that he should also buy a sweater for his grandmother. He felt elated.


The old lady Lakshmi just arrived at her small home. She was tired of cleaning houses and washing vessels the whole day. She looked out for her grandson Charan if he had come back from work, but he hadn’t. She thought she should save some money and buy him a bicycle. She spread out a floor mat, and sat on it exhausted. Her weak body couldn’t handle this stress as it used to all these days, she thought. She almost fell asleep but then she got up and headed into the kitchen recollecting that Charan would return home hungry any time now.


Charan continued eating, with his mind wandering all over the place. He hardly realized that he had emptied the box and there was nothing left in the box now. That’s when he closed the box, wiped his mouth and hands, neatly folded the cloth, clinged the carrier back onto his shoulder and stood up to leave. He literally lurched out of shock when he saw the man who was sitting opposite to him, fallen down unconsciously. He hurried towards him, shook him, sprinkled some water from his bottle on him, but the man dint respond. He checked for breath and he was relieved learning that the man was breathing. He looked out if anyone were around, but no one. He ran to the gate to see if he could find help but to his bad luck, again no one in the street. The sun had departed and the road was pitch dark without the street-lights. He scanned through the left and right sides of the street. His eyes discovered a ‘Nursing-Home’ at the right end of the street. He ran back to the man and contemplated how he could carry the man to the nursing home. He could see no other option but to carry him on his shoulders. After being accustomed to carrying loads of cement bags at his work, he had it in him to carry the man over his shoulders. Doing so, he hurried along the dark street towards the nursing home.



Lakshmi had prepared a dish with whatever little she had at home. She transferred it into two plates, covered them and kept it aside waiting for Charan to arrive. She went upto the main door and sat at the entrance gazing at the sky feeling helpless about her impecunious state of living. Her home was situated in such an isolated place that mosquitoes and stray dogs were their only neighbours. A cold breeze blew and she wrapped herself tightly with her hands. She thought she should buy a woolen sweater for her grandson who would have to travel daily in this cold weather. She looked into the night sky and got immersed into thoughts.


The stretcher was brought and Charan transferred the man onto it and they rushed him inside the nursing home. Charan found a seat for himself and sat there worried. The hospital staff informed the man’s family, through the cell phone they had found in his pocket. Charan wanted to leave, but decided to wait until he heard from the doctor. Meanwhile, the man’s family arrived with worried looks on their faces. And then, the doctor came out of the room and informed the family members that he was out of danger. Charan felt relieved and then felt ambivalent if he should talk to the family members or just walk away. For a fact, he was never avaricious and dint expect favours. Since the family members were in a state of shock, Charan decided to leave. He walked hurriedly towards home as his grandmother would be worried of his late coming.


Lakshmi still sat at the door now feeling a bit tensed about Charan not yet arriving home. A small pain in her chest began but it went unnoticed, as she was worrying about her grandson. But the pain loomed larger. She felt a prick in her heart. Her breathing became harder, faster and shorter. She felt her heart contracting. With one hand on her chest she tried to stand up to fetch some water for herself. As she stood, she felt an intense pull from her heart and felt air being almost pumped out of her and within no time she collapsed and fell. She reposed with her head resting on the door frame and the rest of the body extending outside of her home.



Charan, who was walking briskly, now as he came closer to the house began sprinting excitedly. He wanted to say to her that he had saved a life today. His running stopped abruptly at the entrance of his home. His grandmother was lying there. He moved forward silently, fell to his knees, checked her breath but there was nothing. He looked around but he could find no one. He looked up at the sky, he looked left, he looked right, he stood & fluttered to and fro around her body with his legs trembling. He called out to his grandmother hoping he could get a reply. He felt numb. He let 2 minutes pass by and then walked to the door, sat next to her, lifted and rested her head on his lap and sat staring at her face. His tears dripped onto her forehead, he wiped it and said as if he was talking to her- “ I saved a life today… but ……” tears hurried through his cheeks.


First Salary. Grandmother's final journey.


( Tried something different. Let me know.)

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One Rain, Many Faces..!!

(I had written this for Writer's Lounge. The challenge here is a 400 word limit and the theme being 'Rain'....)




On a lovely wet evening with my car’s wipers dancing in unison, I along with Anjali were speeding along a deserted road. I wondered if God had lost patience with me and had gifted me this free car wash. Anyway, as I steered along I managed a few glances towards her sitting next to me. As usually, she was lost. It was on one such rainy evening that we had hugged each other an ‘I-Love-You’. Since then, every spell of rain made me nostalgic and it gave me goosebumps. I loved rain.

It was only a while ago that she had called me and said- “ Can you pick me n take me home now?” As always, here I was, by her side. Anyway, I thought I should remind her of my existence and so said- “Hello madam! Lost into wonderland?” No reply. It wasn’t her birthday nor were we married to remember the anniversary date and all that. Anyway, she would tell me if there was something.

Also I had my own problems. Me and nature shared close associations, in the sense that every time it rains, I get a ‘Nature Call’. I spotted a public rest room, parked the car, informed her- “ I need to visit the White-House” and ran to finish my duties. I came back, pulled out my blazer from the rear seat, put it on, hit the accelerator and said- “From the White-House to Your House” and left. I felt like James Bond, with a sulky Bond girl on board.

After the ride of about an hour, which included few more of my featherbrained jokes greeted with ‘no reactions’, we reached the end of her street where I usually drop her off. In an attempt to cheer her up, I pretended to call up someone on my phone and announced- “ Hello. See, in 5 seconds Anjali is going to laugh….. 5,4,3,2,1” and I looked at her in anticipation. She pulled me over by my blazer, rested her forehead on my chest and started crying. She said - “Please drop me off at the gate.”

Something was seriously wrong. As we approached I saw people and an ambulance outside the gate. She held my hand tight with her forehead still resting on my chest- “ My mom. 2 hours ago. Heart Attack.”

Now, every time it rains, memories kill me.

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Love In Those Salad Days

(Here’s another fiction. Me as Mr.V’, a Software Professional traveling back to his home town after nearly ten years to meet all his relatives, childhood friends and eventually his (ex)girlfriend. )





My car’s speedo read 120 kms/hr. Cricket commentary running on my car radio. Heaviest rainfall of the season lashing and literally beating down. I was driving back to my hometown after a gap of 10 years.

“India, batting first are yet to lose a wicket with 2 runs on the board after the completion of 1 over.” the commentator announced.

Well, it has been ten years since I last visited my town, ten years since I visited my relatives, ten years since I watched a movie in one of those movie tents and ten long years since I met my girlfriend. She is married now but I can’t somehow muster to say ‘ex-girlfriend’. But wait, none of us could express it to one another , so it was more a kind of vandalism(on my part atleast). Every time I made up my mind to express my love I would put it off with the fear of losing her even as a friend, which eventually landed me into a mess in my life. What foolish people we were……!! Nowadays I get paranoid about her with questions such as -if she had ever loved me or if she ever had such feelings for me. I had always had this assumption that she loved me as much as I did. It definitely appeared so.

“India score 60 for the loss of 2 wickets after 10 overs.” The rain was incessantly pouring down. My car’s wipers were wiping in full swing. Still zooming away I was……………

I still can’t forget the day of her marriage. I sort of repent attending the wedding. It was such a painful thing to be there. How could she not realize my love. I just couldn’t accept that it was a mistake on my part not to convey my love. But why didn’t she do the same??. Anyways, I never visited nor talked to her after that. I realized that my worst fears had come true. Amidst all this I also had this filmi feeling that she should stay happy wherever she was and I should never tell her about my feelings that were towards her.

“India score 140 after the completion of 25 overs with the loss of 3 wickets.” Not bad, I thought. Still raining………….

All the fun we had together, all the wonderful sweets she used to prepare for me, all the never-ending conversations we had, all secret meetings during festivals and all the stares we exchanged during classes, oh how can I forget all those feelings of inchoate love. She had an unforgettable winsome smile. What’s heartening is that there was this innocence in our relationship. I realize that now after I witnessed so many break ups in my present place, a city. Life’s different in a city. And I’m not spared too in the change of lifestyles. SIMPLE and COMPLICATED are two words to describe life in a village/town and a city respectively.
Anyway, I was ambivalent if I have to meet her after a long gap or not. And moreover the main difference of now she being married. I was on tenterhooks. I actually wasn’t really looking forward to it.

“India score 270 for 8 after their quota of 50 overs. Target set is 271.” The score’s ‘okey-dokey’ I said to myself. The rain reduced to a drizzle now…….

I now entered my town, came across my primary school building, which hadn’t changed an iota since my school days. With the dilemma of whether to meet her or not and after more than 2 hours of ‘mind contemplation’ I concluded that I would pass by the street where she stays and if I find her I would talk to her or else ‘forget it’. It was hard cheese for me. I entered the street and proceeded dead slow, recognized her home and had a glance over it and even passed it after finding no one. Just when I thought she wasn’t there, I heard a loud female voice calling me by name. I looked back, it was her hurrying towards me from her small garden. I stopped and got down my car. She came running, she looked so excited to see me after almost a decade, she almost hugged me when she suddenly came back to senses and enquired- “ How are you? Where had you been all these days? I’m so happy to see you today….”
With few more of such enquiries and not so realistic replies from both sides, I decided I must move on. I get quite sensitive and emotional during such circumstances.
I had a nettlesome feel in me which I experienced for the first time in my life. A feel of pain and happiness at the same time. Pain that she wasn’t mine and happiness for she was settled happily.
I said – “I have to leave now. I’ll see you some other time.” rather bluntly and got back into my car.

“India lose the match convincingly. Life becomes very difficult for them after this disastrous series. ” said the commentator. How is my life different , I thought…

Just as I brought the car to ignition, she came close to me and asked rather softly – “On the day of my marriage I observed you being so dull and depressed. And when I came to talk to you, your face and body totally drenched in the rain, why did you just go away? ”

My answer was simple- “It wasn’t only the rain which had drenched my face that day…”

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A Journey To Nostalgia...

On a blustery , cloudy evening , sitting in my balcony , smelling the wet sand , sipping away a mug full of hot evening coffee , watching school children play in the small puddles that were formed after the rain , the high school girls carrying colorful umbrellas walking along the street giggling along , “Oh my…..!! Feels so nostalgic” . I was mesmerized into a valley of thoughts, feelings and sweet memories . I was in mood to rejuvenate. “Wow , Childhood was fun ….” .
Those days are over . Those days when mummy used to tell moral stories at night before going to bed . Those days when I waited for my dad till he comes back from work to take me for a ride on his bike . Those days when my grand parents used to take me to a children’s park every evening . Those days when I cried when my teacher punished me . Oh, so many…….....

Maybe I enjoy re-living it now more than how I felt then . But no denying that it was the best part of my life . Life is a journey . Both good and bad memories are a part of that journey . But the fact is – ‘Bad memories makes the sweet ones sweeter’ . By now I invented that re-living childhood memories is the most efficient stress buster . I was in no mood to end my nostalgic journey . So , I decided to walk to my primary school which is just a stroll away from my place.

Walking down the street , I observed a lady and a small girl with her . The girl was crying for an ice-cream after seeing another kid having one . Couldn’t prevent a smile on my face . I also came across an old woman kissing her grandchild on her cheek for reciting a rhyme . I was on a smiling spree . My second invention of the evening – A stroll across a street isn’t actually boring .

I reached the school , entered it with permission . It was empty as it was almost 6 in the evening . I passed through the basket ball court recollecting that we used to play everything other than basket ball there. I walked through the assembly hall , my class rooms and the playground . School friends , incidents involving them , all those memories kept popping up simultaneously . It was once that I said that my dad was an AGM in a company when my friend told his dad was the GM , unaware that GM was a higher post . Luckily he din’t know that too . Another reason to smile though . Anyway , I was feeling so blissful about the whole evening . I started heading back home wondering how life changes with time , how even bad memories manage to bring out a smile and how time moves so fast.

I was lost in a totally different world altogether . The world of past , innocence , pure affection and love . Just then I got a call on my cell phone . It was my friend – “ Hey , How about a movie tomorrow Morning Show uh?? ” . Yes , that ended my ‘ Journey to Nostalgia ’. After a short sojourn of the past, I was back to the real ,pestiferous, present world . Cell phones , movies , bikes , lap-tops ………….more gadgets , less time for feelings , apparent fun but less or no fun , responsibilities , competition and a monotonous life . With people factitiously getting ‘broad minded’ and ‘modernized’ ,it’s become hard to find a seat for human values .The world is getting dissolute. Whatever it is , Human Beings are fallible & The World is still a beautiful place to live in . It’s only that we have to live and re-live our experiences to enhance freshness in life.
And ofcourse I watched the movie the next day .


(P.S – Its my first shot at fiction . A ‘goal’ or a ‘miss’ is for you to say …..
Cheers..!! )

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I CALL IT FATE...

It was Winter , it was a Saturday and it was six in the evening . It was one of those days when I just couldn’t find company for a Saturday evening outing . For me , a Saturday without an outing is like a ‘ Coffee without Sugar ‘ .After all the ideas draining out of my mind , I decided I should be adding sugar(to the coffee) all by myself and hence got up, got dressed and left with the destination undecided .

As I was walking down the lane , I observed that none of my neighbours were around . I had a stupid imagination of them partying in a club . There was a feeling of freshness intilled in me maybe because of the weather which was asusually (in Bangalore) so romantic . The Orange evening sky , a cool breeze which was kind of soothing my senses and the chirping birds which left me feeling peaceful made for a perfect evening . The poet in me was in flowing form. Or maybe it was one of those silly imaginations of mine (untolerable says my sister ) . Anyway , I put a full stop to my ‘in-form’ imaginations and proceeded .

Just as I moved a few paces , I noticed a familiar face looking at me in excitement . I could recognize that he was my primary school classmate . He approached me and said “ Heyy , Arjun right ? ”

“Yeah”

“You remember me ? ”

“Ofcourse Naveen ”

“Heyyy , I’m Sachin ”

(Uff!! Not again ….)
“Oh ya ya , sorry ”

“Haha , You are still the same .!! ”

Strolling along the pavement , we made few more enquiries and exchanged memories of our school days and our teachers . He was so excited about our unexpected rendezvous . We entered a near by park and we did the ‘ Walk the Talk ’ . Though it was long time since we met , we developed very good chemistry between us . He already made it to my ‘Good Friends’ list .
He offered to have some Tea , which he still remembers that it was my favourite drink . While sipping the tea , he invited me for a picnic that he was to go with his friends the next day .It was to some WaterFall . I was busy with a family function the next day , so told him I can’t make it . We left it at that . He had so many things to say about our school . He was up to date with all it’s advancements . After some more talking and walking , we decided to disperse . I told him “Lets catch up on Monday , I’ll take you to my place ” .
He said “ Sure ”.
We shook hands & departed . More than happy with the evening’s proceedings, the freshness still intact on me , the poet in me asleep, I headed home looking forward to meet him on Monday .


And Monday evening I get a call saying “ Sachin is no more . He drowned in a WaterFall near Mysore”.

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