One warm sunny morning, a little girl dressed in red held a spool of thread in her hand tied to a kite. She ran against the breeze as fast as her little legs could carry, her hand raised, holding the kite. She let go the kite and it flew in the air. Up and higher and higher it flew, till the thread couldn't bear the tension anymore and it snapped.
She stopped abruptly with a smile on her face and saw her kite fly away.
It was a struggle. It was a group of three: Me, You and Someone. The struggle was to win, whatever it was. The plan was to split and take up different task, and bring it to an end. It was a physical and mental torture, sort of.
The steps were slippery. I did slip and fall flat on my face. But it was my fault; I was not careful. The fall taught me to be careful. I had to sit down for a while. Not because I was allowing the pain to take over, but because I needed to let it recede a bit and then climb again; can’t walk when head is dizzy right? It was a problem, and I decided to walk over it. No, I was not dodging it. That was its solution. It was slippery. What else does a person do when they slip and fall over wet granite stairs?
It was getting heavier. A knapsack. I had something that you needed. You asked for it, but told me to give it in a way no one notices. But it didn’t matter. I wanted to see you. The frown got to rest the moment I saw you.
I slung the sack on one shoulder. I started walking. You continue beside me, naturally. I tried to open the sack. But my knees buckled because of the weight. The sack fell open on the ground. A few passerbies walked on, throwing a glance back even as the distance grew.
I was back on my feet, exhaustion consuming me. I started wondering, “What is this game about? How come we are struggling when we are not clear about the game?” I broke the ice. I took your hand, placed your arm around my shoulder as if it’s my drape. The familiar scent. The familiar touch. My head resting on your shoulder. Your hold firm on my shoulders as we walked on. I could feel the exhaustion draining out and listen to my own deep breaths. My hands wrapped around your waist as I fell asleep on your shoulders, as if it is the most natural thing.
We stopped. I heard a voice. It was Someone. Someone was not in the group, I learnt late. Someone asked You, “Are you two a team as two different individuals, or one?” To which I heard your reply as I almost began to dream, “We are one, but still different individuals.” I liked the sound of we, I liked the sound of different. That’s when I fell in dreamless sleep.
I wish I can find out who You are. You are familiar. You are a friend. But still I have not seen You. It was peaceful with you. Secure. A sense of togetherness, a sense of belonging. An enormous feeling of pure love. A simple want to be with you.
And understanding that love is not a struggle. Love is not a game. Love is feeling. A deep affection. Love is You and Me. There never is a Someone. It is just You and Me.
In the dark alley while walking alone she is kidnapped by three psychopaths. Somewhere down the lane is her home. Waiting for her are some people.
9:50 am
Time goes by. Absence is felt. Three of them walk outside, in search of her. All three armed, one of them known to her, yet unknown.
On a ship, the night is still young; there she stood with her hands tied to an invisible string. Beads of sweat on her face make her captivators laugh with no grace.
The three barged in with a bang, making one of the three captivator place the gun at her forehead.
The saviours were quicker, shot all but the leader dead. The leader was the one pointing the barrel at her head.
Negotiation should have been tried, reduce darkness from both side. But the leader gave the impression that he has surrendered.
She walked behind, the leader right in front of her. The eldest of the saviour walked backwards, facing the leader, pointing the gun at his chest. The other two walked like a protective circle around her.
The leader showed no movement, the elder relaxed a bit. The leader was waiting for this chance and shot in his chest. The saviours in shock pumped bullets at him. He just turned around and shot his last bullet at her hoping to be fatal.
Something hit her head, she felt no pain. She went into shock as she watched the leader fall on his knees.
Felt something hot on her neck and on her arms. It was red she saw and fell on the ground. The survivors were now by her side calling her name, but she had already lost her sense to the outside world.
She closed her eyes asking, “Is this it?” She waited for the system to shut but she felt only peace. There was darkness, a short fear inside; she could feel life drain little by little as minutes passed by.
There was silence, but it still was “now”. “Shouldn’t I be dead”, she wondered, “but how is it still “now”?”
She had fallen on the ground, with her head cushioned on her arm and now she raised her head and looked around.
The survivors were still around in state of shock, they didn’t know what to do and how to call.
She smiled and placed her hands comfortingly on their shoulders. They should have turned but were indifferent to her presence.
A silent companion she thought she’ll be and sat beside them. She looked in the direction where they stared. One stared at her lover, other to a lovely dame. She walked towards her, found the dame to be herself and finally realized she is already dead.
I stand in front of a door, waiting for you to come out.
I travelled all the way from somewhere to just be with you. I flew on an aeroplane, trying to fix its broken wings. Holding its wings; not wanting to crash. Pieces still somehow fall apart and fall into my open hands. I land somehow, wounds somehow healed. Now I stand in front of a door, waiting for it to open and you to walk out.
I hallucinate waiting for you. I see your smiling lips, your twinkling eyes, telling me to hold on. I wait and the doors open. I see you step out. The grasses have grown. The blades are golden. I’ve been standing so long, I fear walking into dust. You pause and smile at me. You look at me, and take a step forward; I stand still, still afraid to move.
You outstretch your hands, asking me to come to you. I take a tiny step, you smile. The music plays. Piano. The music I always related to you. You hold my hand; we walk together into the fields of gold. Longest golden blades of grass ever seen. Little green blades sprouting besides them. You dance, asking me to join you. You lead, I stand watching you.
There is no sign of distance in your eyes. Why am I feeling it then? I stand looking at you. Was it the time?
My eyes are distant. My thoughts are distant. You become distant. You start disappearing. But I had just found you. You had held my hand, I had let it go. I stretch my arms, not wanting you to go. How simple are you?
It was love that had attached us, not the time. What has time spent apart, waiting, to do with love? I had made a vow, never to do the same again. Love grows in time. Love is infinite.
You turn back. Same smile, same twinkle that had made my heart quiver. It quivers again. I see following your lead in the dance. I see you there.
When you turn around and are about to hold my outstretched hands, my dream breaks yet again.
It was a slow walk down a boulevard on a drizzling twilight. Her mind though full of agitated questions, she was in peace. It was a long walk with company of self, holding someone else.
All smiles, suddenly her legs were broken. Down she fell and landed into a puddle. All her talks of “get up and walk on” were deaf to her own ears. She sat there with a forlorn look in her eyes, head down, immobile, drenched in now heavily pouring rain.
Hours ticked by, still no sound escaped her lips, unaware of everything. A mess.
She looked up, surprised; someone had called her name. She looked up to see a hand outstretched at her. She turned her head away. The sound called her again breaking her trance. She ignored it. It was not the sound she longed to hear. The sound yet again spoke to her. It was soft. She closed her eyes, shutting everything out; muting every possible melody that can exist.
The sound was not used to being ignored. Its strong hands gripped hers, and pulled her up; forcing her to open her eyes and face the world. “This is not the end of it”, the sound said. She winced at the pain. She was conscious of the sound now. It shook her out of a dead world, even if for a moment.
She looked around at the new world; waiting for her to explore.
The sound spoke to her again urging her to walk. She obeyed. Took a step, she stumbled. The strong arms held her; kept her steady. An unspoken support.
Days passed by. She now walks on her own. Uncertainty still lives in her heart; but she walks on. There is a void. She knows not what she wants, still she walks on. There are some dreams, waiting to be painted, picture though blurred.
There is a want to do something and cut the string that has bound her tight. A soundless thought. A wordless song. Waiting to form and burst out. It’s all muted, for now.
There is a way. She will figure it out, in time. She knows she is strong.
She is not born to exist.
She learnt, “One failure is not the end of all. It all matters on how you get up and walk ahead. It all matters on how you turn out to be out of that failure.”
It was past midnight. She ought to have been asleep. The breeze blew for her and crickets sang to her as lullaby. It disturbed her and she lay awake thinking, "Why?"
She must have been in 3rd grade, when her teachers kept a reciting competition. It was no big deal for her. She was a kid. She chose one of her favourite poem. When her turn came, she looked at her classmates. Some were making faces, some were plugging their ears. But she sang with no fear in hear heart. She sang, "Three little kittens, they lost their mittens, and they began to cry. Oh mother dear, come here come here, for we have lost our mittens.. Lost your mittens you naughty kittens, and you shall have no pie. Miaow, Miaow, we shall have no pie...." She sang with a smile, she enjoyed when she sang.. She subconsciously knew she can, she did it and she won the competition.
Now, why? Now, when asked to present a paper, she shivered. There were many what ifs, and but ifs in her head. She did enjoy the theme yes, but still the fear held her back. Where is that feeling missing? There was no stage fright before. Why was it such a big deal now?
Why did she need the boost from her friends of, "You can do it! Just do it!" ? Why? Why uncertain about herself? She knew she is independent. Still, didn't the wanting of the boost make her dependent? Why suddenly the need?
Then it struck to her. The "I can" was missing. Her friends were saying the same, "You can!" Only she didn't say it to herself. She realized, when a kid she always stood on the stage with "I can" in her mind and she always believed it. Now, she would stand with, "Can I?"
And she smiled when she thought, "lessons to be learnt from childhood". It was so simple. It was just to do it, with no complications in her head. No if's and no but's. Just do it.
Once upon a time, there was a little boy. He used to sneak into a garden, climb the mango tree, and pluck some mangoes. The gardener would notice it and run after the boy with a stick in his hand. The boy would shriek and giggle with joy while he ran to save his arse. Once he would out run the old gardener, he would sit, panting. Once normal, he would enjoy and eat his mango, laughing on the whole incident. He was totally enjoying eating it. There was some pleasure in eating it after the whole thing.
The gardener had become weak. One day he thought, "After all there's enough mango on the tree. There's no harm in sharing a few with that little boy. Tomorrow it will be a surprise for the boy." And he smiled.
The boy sneaked into the garden again. He couldn't see the gardener anywhere. He went up to the mango tree. To his horror he saw the gardener sitting below the tree, enjoying the soft breeze. The gardener looked up to the boy and smiled. The boy confused and innocent, smiled back at him. The gardener waved his hand as in asking the boy to go ahead. The boy was even more cautious. He stood still. The gardener said, "Fear not my child. You are young, enjoy your youth. Take as much mango as your heart desires, for there is enough for all." and he smiled warmly yet again to the child. The innocent child believed him. And plucked as many as he desired. He smiled back at the gardener and left. The gardener had told him, he was welcome anytime he wanted to come. The boy was delighted.
The boy came eagerly to the garden the next day, smiled at the gardener, plucked some mangoes and went away. It was suddenly so easy for him. It went on for many days.
Suddenly the boy felt dull. There was some fire missing. He felt it. He didn't enjoy the mango the way he used to before. It was happening everyday.
It was easy. It was right there. He wanted it, but still he was getting sick of it. He still wanted it. It sickened him so much that he started loosing his interest in it. He forgot how it tasted. He ate it as if its a routine. Something was still missing.
He thought over it and then he realized: There was some difference. The way he used to get mangoes then and how he gets it now. The pleasure in eating the mango after doing some hard work to get it was different than just getting it like some abundant free thing. The hard work had brought some special taste in the mango. There was some excitement. Taking risk, playing with it, over coming it, being successful and then tasting it. There was some life in it. A challenge.
The young boy was tired of it now. He was sick of eating it. He was sick of it. Challenge is must. To find a challenge, change is must. The boy got up. The change: he went in search of another garden with different fruit and with a younger gardener. It was tougher than before. He played again. And he had enjoyed the fruit even more. The fruit had never tasted better. He was happy again.
It was just the right day. The egg cracked and out came a li'l birdy. It saw a bright and sunny day. All it could experience was happiness. It was ready to grow into a bird.
The days passed by and it grew. It grew into a pretty one. It started seeing the world beyond being sunny and bright. He could understand more now. He started experiencing different emotions now. It was so new and disturbing that he started getting frustrated. It took time to get in control of the frustration. After all, one does adopt according to the changing situation.
But then, there's limit to everything. And his cup of limit was about to overflow, when he thought, "I'm a bird. Ain't I supposed to be free?" Birds do leave their nests eventually. He noticed his wings. He flapped it. And there, he flew away to find some meaning to his life. He also realized, something was eating him up mentally too. And that its high time he stop running after happiness. So, away he flew from all the strings and control, he was free. Free mentally and free as an individual.
One of my friend gave me a link to this website. I just loved the story Breaking Free from the list of stories mentioned there...And Tooth Fairy's Lettertouched me.
And this one : Telephone, another touching story was sent to me by Pravesh.
Do I see something from this window of my world?? Yea I do...
I see a clear blue sky with those white clouds splashed here and there... I lower my gaze, I see the wind blowing softly through the leaves of the trees. I see them dancing in pleasure. I bring my face forward towards that invisible hand and feel it run its hand through my damp hair. That is refreshing!
I hear some noise... I look up again and guess what I see? I see group of white migratory birds flying in V shape. Perfect V. Brings a smile on my face...
Where am I? I'm in a park, sitting on a bench. My favorite spot there, my bench surrounded by trees and few wild flowers fallen around the bench. My place. And I'm there, in the comfort. Gazing lovingly at those trees... Then I hear a playful yelping. When I see down I cant help smiling. Its so cute. Its brown with those dark brown flappy ears and big black liquidy eyes... Its standing in front of me wagging its tail, I cant resist and I get up and move towards it. It moves behind, I call it near me... Its cautious and scared... But so so cute!! I move back to my bench. I cross my legs and put my face in my cupped hands and watch it go play with other puppies... There's a lost smile on my face...
Slowly the sky become light grey, and a colder and stronger breeze starts blowing... I feel chilly. I pull my sweater closer to me. Everything around me looks so beautiful. I start getting lost in her. She has created such a beauty in front of me, how can I resist it?
I feel those tiny drops of the drizzle fall on my cheeks and hear the music of the trees. I look up smiling to myself and enjoy the light rain... It comes and goes.. a tickling rain making me giggle like a kid laughing in pleasure, touching me but still letting me be dry...
Everything is just so perfect when I feel a hand touch mine, trying to bring me back to the present priority, asking me stop getting distracted. I look up to that person. I look around the ignored part around me on my bench: My math book and my scattered sheets on the grass with those tiny drops of rain on them. I sigh and get up, picking up my scattered sheets, to waste another beautiful day in solving some stupid sums, preparing for my another stupid exams...
I look up to her again and then I force myself to look down in my sheets again, and start solving another problem... Life... *siiiiiiigggh!*
Sometimes the urge to cut off from the world is so so huge, that I cannot control my eyes shutting everything out. And then there... I see a new world... A world of my own. Me is the creator of that world.. I can do whatever I want to then. Make it look so perfect that anyone in it will never dream of coming out of it.
I can change the outside (real world's) sunny weather to a sexy cloudy weather (in my world). I can go zoooooom from Blore to any other place in this world. I can bring any person I long to meet. I can talk endlessly to that person without bothering about any other duty at that present. Because I've paused the time, but the moment goes on. Its like the wind blows but the leaves refuse to fall.
I can make it so perfect. I can make flowers grow on a barren land and make it snow where it never ever had snowed. I can remove all the "viruses" (read:politicians) and make the air all healthy... I can do so many things! Heck I really can!
It actually has no face. Even if it has one, its like a face in the dark, a face you cannot recognize. Its hidden in the shadows...
Even though it has no direct relation with you, it still creates some kind of mini storm in your heart, and gives a new kind of vague feeling, which is definitely not enjoyed by anyone. Gives a feeling of fear, a feeling of being followed by that unknown face in the dark.
As if you've done trying fighting with it anymore. The more you fight the stronger it becomes, as if it takes energy from the fear we feel.
Its a dark lane. Its all empty. You are walking alone on that lane. Suddenly you are gripped with some fear. The pace fastens, heart thumps unevenly. The face nears you. You start running far far away from that face, glancing back to see if you've got rid of it. Face is covered with sweat. The suit is getting drenched. Everything is starting to become uneven... Its so real that you hope its unreal.
Then you wake up. Its a bad dream. But felt so many times. Its not unreal... Its something which we have to deal with. Almost every time. At least I do. Fight it and win over it. "It" can't be right. I've to be right. My decisions are right. I cant let it rule me.
Does "it" have a name? Yes it does.. And "it" is named as?? "It" is uncertainty.
he night life in Bangalore really rocks!! Even if the dance pubs are supposed to close down by 11:30Pm something, it still does rock!! Poor Banglorian party animals have to find refuge in some other places in Karnataka. The night is quite, no music blaring... The road is empty. But still it rocks and still there's a party out there!
I'll explain. Anyone is invited.The Party takes place every night. Venu: Koi bhi gali.
The party starts by 12:00Am. When people put off their lights (common one's like me), dogs put up theirs! Yea... the party is hosted by the stray kutte party of Bangalore! Man it does rock! They bark and bark and bark! They bark for god known reason... It so rocks that other gali ke kutte too start barking with them. And the volume of "music" goes way beyond maybe 50Db (At night!)...
They keep me on my toes too! I was missing the party so much that I started pacing the rooms at night! Closing the windows didn't help.
In mid, came the barking crackers. Meaning, groups of dogs starting barking randomly, there was so much of commotion that it sounded like some crackers were being burst! Kutta logo ke pass bhi crackers hai!! wah re wah! They did party hard... And boozed heavily! I could make it out cos one bewda started howling suddenly and other bewdas followed the suit. It seems they found it cool! Man, the howling was so so spooky(for me!!) that it reminded me of horror moive ghosts!
I felt sooo left out that I couldn't bear their "happy" howlings. I had to plug into my walkman and play my own music (which I could understand). I had to make the volume blaring cos, the kutta party was too much for me! It drove me into tears! *snif snif!*
It was around 2Am that it was suddenly so calm! I mean the kutta party was over! Maybe some "police" (Read: A normal person like me) must have kicked them out of the "streets". I smiled. I could unplug from that music and finally get some sleep. I could open the windows to let the fresh breeze come in.
What on earth are those muncipal ppl doing??? The number of stray dogs on streets per area is more than number of humans inhabiting in that area!
My god! Kutto ka kya "kaal" hai! They are still barking, at this hour in morning, thanking me, for writing a review on their party stints. bow wow!
'Once a teacher brought a cocoon in a classroom filled with young children. The teacher kept that cocoon on the table and asked the children to watch the butterfly emerge out of the cocoon and she left the class for some work. Children watched the cocoon shake a bit... The butterfly was about to emerge...
It shook some more. The children were bit concerned. One child got up from his seat and helped the butterfly emerge from its cocoon by tearing open the cocoon. The butterfly came out of its cocoon. The weather was bright and sunny. The butterfly flapped its wings and it died after sometime. The children were shocked.
Later the teacher came in the class and saw the dead butterfly on her table. She asked the children what had happend. When the children narrated what had happend the teacher thus said, "You need to struggle a bit in your life to become stronger, to live."'
This was a story narranted to me and my college mates in my CAD class by our lecturer. People were too busy to listen to the lecturer. I loved it so much that I blogged it down, in my words What he ment to say was, not to take life easy. And not to expect it to be easy. We have to struggle and work hard to achieve success. Everything will look beautiful later... Just like that colourful butterfly which emerges out of its cocoon after struggling to get out.
