Wings of Power

The Wings of Power

She was born, shorn of shine

At the time she seem'd, a joke from Divine

"Why, O, why us you thus blessed,

Were our lives any less messed?"

The knees on ground, her eyes at the sky

With wings of fire, her license to fly.

Of three sisters, third she was

To no human, heard she was

Dreams forbidden, paths downtrodden

And awaited her, chores so sodden.

The knees on ground, her eyes at the sky

With wings of fire, her license to fly.

But little did they know, oh, so little they did

Of a fire, no water can douse; an empire no world can house

A will of iron, unmalleable; a belief so strong, unshakeable.

She decided to take on her fate

The knees on ground, her eyes at the sky

With wings of power, her license to fly.

And years later, on a grand grand scale

She jumped higher, yes, the fire, than anyone

She ran more, yes, the iron core, than anyone

With every Gold she won, she gave a dream to daughters of nation

The knees on ground, her eyes at the sky

With wings of fire, her license to fly.

-Shivam'da'

Freedom

Freedom from fear is the freedom I seek
Freeom from odours of pessimism from which we reek
Freedom from the sense of defeat
Freedom from self imposed limits.

Freedom from short sightedness that halts progress
Freedom from hesitence that makes us regress
This is the freedom for which I crave
This is the freedom whose need today is grave.

Hit job

Hit job

Episode 1 – The fateful day

Stories about poor people are of two types; either they are about a poor guy who survives against all odds and succeeds in life to become one of those rich guys that he hated in the first place, or a poor guy who remains poor all through his life, but still finds happiness in his abject poverty. The former is seeped in popular cinema, and latter is the staple for wannabe indie directors who don’t have the budget to portray a rich guy.

This story is neither of the above.

Stories about gang-lords are of two types; either they are about a gang of dangerous goons, each deadlier than the last, who decide to mess the life of the aforementioned poor hero, and end up being beaten or killed by the hero against all odds, or laws of physics and biology. The other type is about two gangs fighting against each other, resulting in the death of one gang, which is usually the more evil of the two. Both are depicted enough times in popular culture.

This story is neither of the above.

Shankar, or as everyone in his street called him, Pappu was walking on the road with a clear limp. The business had been good that day. Three cars had hit him, and he had managed to extract close to ten thousand that day, apart from a free lunch. The cost to be paid consisted of a couple of abrasions on his chest and forearms, and a small injury on his head. He was a through professional, having been a victim of over twenty -five minor car accidents, obviously all of them precipitated by him running in front of a moving car. The usual modus operandi consisted of him falling on ground and acting like his life had been sucked out of him. Soon enough, a crowd would gather and gherao the car driver till he coughed up some money. The money was to be shared by Pappu and party, fifty percent each. It was a good arrangement, and took care of Pappu’s major expenses.

“Ek khambha,” he asked for a bottle of country liquor, “and a bottle of soda. This fucking job is painful. I need a drink.”  He poured himself some drink and drank straight up, without bothering to add any soda. The aching limbs got soothed as the cerebral inhibitory action of alcohol kicked in. Three drinks later, he was ready for another hit job. That was when he saw a black Scorpio near the cross-roads. He loved the cross-roads. You never need to pay people to form a crowd and harass the driver. Well wishers, hoping to help a poor soul hit by a rash, arrogant driver, would always pop up.

He waited patiently, like a lion waiting for his prey. He was a pro at it. The right time and place would always be when the car would be in the middle of the cross-roads. That way, there would be nowhere to run and it caught attention of public quickly. Also, the speed of the car and the resultant damage would be minimal. The signal turned to green, the Scorpio geared into action, and so did Pappu. Bang in the middle of the street, he jumped in front of the car, crashed with the bumper and fell down, wincing. The Scorpio stopped. Soon enough, a crowd gathered around the car. Someone gave a glass of water to Pappu. He stood up, and started swaying from side to side. The intensity of performance was always the key. The more injured he appeared, the more compensation he could extract. But that day, he sensed something was wrong. The driver did not bother to come out of the car, in spite of the crowd around it. He did look agitated though.

Five minutes later, the door opened and a burly man with a long overcoat stepped out. He surveyed the angry crowd around him, and the injured Pappu, and growled just one word in a thick voice, “Move!” People did not budge, as is their wont. He repeated his earlier word, this time louder. Nobody responded. He was the ultimate villain in their eyes, a middle class harassed by bribes, heat and traffic jams. He represented the bourgeoisie who is allowed to run away after the hit. No, not on their watch, they had decided. The poor man will get the compensation, they decided. The man, perhaps understanding their thoughts, decided to play a full-blown villain and took out a gun and fired it in the air. The crowd dispersed, scared. Pappu stood there, stunned.  The man held him by the collar and whispered, “You don’t know who you have messed with!” Saying this much, he got back into the car and sped away.

Chapter 2- Family first

A couple of days had passed since Pappu was openly threatened by that stranger in the Scorpio. He hadn’t ventured out since, deciding instead, to rest for some time and try to get a real job. His line of business now seemed too risky. One non-paying accident taught him what twenty-five paying ones couldn’t- that earning money by faking accidents is a bad idea. For one full week, he went to any shop he could see, who would hire him. He was ready to take any job, as long as it did not involve being threatened by strangers with a gun. For one full week, he was rejected from everywhere.

“This day feels different,” he thought, as he woke up next to his wife. The kids were still sleeping when he left the home, if that is what one would call their ramshackle assortment of asbestos, straws and bricks. It was the best he could afford, and the worst he could dream of. But, that morning, he swept all depressing thoughts aside and decided to jump straight to the job hunting.

“Ek khambha,” he asked for his customary bottle of country liquor from Ramu, the 16 year old who was running the small illegal liquor shop in the locality.

“No soda?’ Ramu asked. He was used to handing a bottle of soda with the alcohol.

“Nahi yaar. The day has been the worst. One fucker threw me out of his office! It hurt everywhere, but the most it hurt was here,” he said, pointing at his heart, “one day I will be the boss of these idiots and show them their place!”

“Waah Pappubhai, you are high by just holding the bottle!” Ramu laughed. Pappu joined in too. His dreams had been shredded into a million shards, each pricking him in every corner of his body. He needed the alcohol to drown the pain. At least, that was what he thought. When he reached his home, pitch-drunk, he saw something that evaporated every drop of alcohol from his body and replaced it with liquid fear. His house was completely destroyed, his wife and kids missing.  He knew who it was. It was the man in the Scorpio. But how had he managed to trace him and his address so quickly? He shuddered to think what kind of man would have guts to openly fire his gun in the middle of the road, in broad daylight, and he trembled with fear, thinking what such a man could do to his family. But, he was yet unaware of the reason. Nobody destroys a man’s life just for a minor inconvenience.

Thud! Something hit the back of his head, and knocked him out. When he woke up, all he could see was darkness, and all he could feel was suffocation. He heard someone speak too.

“So, this rat caused us to fail our hit job?”

“Yes Jaggabhai. This fool ran in front of our car, alerting the target, who ran away. Maybe by now, he would have left town, knowing Jaggabhai’s men are after him.”

“Who is he? Does he work for that Lucky?”

“No idea boss. Why bother? Let’s just kill him straight away!”

“ Shut up Teja. He will be given some Jagga justice.”

The two men guffawed, and one of them hit Pappu on the back of his head. It hurt. He winced. The uncomfortable journey carried on for some time.  The throbbing pain on his head and the weight of worry in his heart made Pappu slump down. He was prepared for the worst. But the worst was yet to come.

They lifted him from the car seat, carried for some distance and threw him on the ground. It felt hard, smooth. And then, in a rough moment, the cloth was removed from his face. Initial light blinded him, so he squinted. Through the half open curtains of his vision, he saw the same man who had threatened him on the road, surrounded by five, maybe six other armed men. He seemed to be in some sort of lair. Someone slapped him, jarring him into full attention.

“Listen you rat! The other day, you caused us to lose twenty five lacs on the hit job. You have any idea what that kind of money looks like?”

“I am sorry sir. Please forgive me…” Pappu pleaded before being cut short with another slap. His cheeks were stinging, his pride was drowned in the gutter with his tears.

“What do you think this is? Some fucking classroom? And you think I am your class teacher?” Jagga laughed. Everyone else joined in. Jagga cleared his throat and continued, “Your apology will not get me my money, nor will it get you your family. You will have to pay me back.”

“But sahib, I have not even seen this much money at one place. How will I repay you? Please have some mercy!” Pappu was almost sobbing.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” Jagga whispered in one of the henchmen’s ear, “What we have here, is an opportunity. What can a desperate man do to save his family? Can he destroy another family to save his own?” Pappu looked puzzled. So did everyone else in the room. Jagga continued, moving like a lion circles his prey, “According to my sources, the target has not yet left city. Of course, he knows about us. But he does not know about our latest recruit- Pappubhai!” Saying this, Jagga laughed out loud. Everyone else followed suit, albeit nervously. Pappu was speechless. Ofcourse, what he did was never on the side of law. But they were petty offences. This was murder. He would never bethe same. The merchant of Jagga-ville was asking for his pound of flesh, and he had no option but to cut it out. Only difference was that in this flesh would be a part of his soul.

“I agree,” he said, sealing his deal with the devil.

Chapter 3- Everybody dies….some day!

There was no time to teach Pappu about using guns. They had to go the old fashioned way, and use a knife. The plan was simple- Pappu would approach the target, when he would be in the restaurant, as he was scheduled to do on that day, follow him to the bathroom, and finish the business there. Nervously, Pappu entered the restaurant, knowing that he would come out of it a completely different person.  He located the target, a Mr Mehra, who was a lawyer fighting a case against Jagga’s bosses. He had to be dealt with, and quickly.

“Hello Mr Mehra, I am Dr Shankar,” Pappu introduced himself. The new clothes and expensive perfume were heady and would have distracted him from the job, had he not known what was on the line.

“Hello doctor. Do I know you?”

“Ah yes.  I am the surgeon who treated some of the victims of the mob violence. Thought I could give you some,” Pappu shifted uneasily and checked his surroundings, and whispered in Mehra’s ear, “evidence.” He could see the effect his words had on Mehra. He straightened up pretty quickly and signaled to follow him to the washroom. So far, so perfect. He followed Mehra to the washroom, leaned towards him slowly and in one quick movement, slammed the dagger in his stomach. Blood spurted out everywhere. Before Mehra could call for help, Pappu gagged him. He kept on stabbing him, tears running down his cheeks. He continued to do it till he was sure the man was dead. It was then that he realized, that he had not done a deal with the devil. He had asked devil to take place of his soul. He dragged the body into one of the cubicles, washed hands, changed clothes and jumped out from the window. His job was done. On the other end of the road, Jagga’s men waited for him with his family. He spotted the van and ran towards it. He could see his wife from one corner of his eye.  But what he saw from the centre of his eyes wrenched the air out of his lungs. There was a hole on her forehead with blood trickling out. She was dead! He ran towards her lifeless body that Jagga’s goons threw on the road before speeding away. Clutching the body, he wailed. He wailed the whole night. He had lost everything. Everything. His life, his family, his soul, everything. And it was all done by one very evil man, just to spite him for a small mistake. He took out his phone. It was time for payback.

“Hello Ramu, ek khambha,” he said, his lips curling in a twisted smile.

Jagga’s lair received a carton of country liquor. The gang assumed it was a reward by the boss to them, for the job well done.

Epilogue- All’s well that ends

The newspaper headlines screamed the following morning, “HOOCH TRAGEDY STRIKES MUMBAI SUBURB. TWENTY PEOPLE BLINDED, TEN KILLED IN THE SAME HOUSE.”

Shankar read it, and smiled. Nothing can bring back the dead, but something can avenge them.

Minority

I am merely a meek, mute minority.

For, all I want is to live and live in peace.Please let me be.

Away from squabbles and quarrels

away from fights over imagined rights

away from what divides me within,

all i want is to live,

and live in peace.

please let me be.

Tired I am, of being instigated

Tired I am, of avenging fictious affronts

Tired I am, of being victimized, and a victim

all i want is to live,

and live in peace.

please let me be.

Why destroy the world, to prove a point?

Why annihilate humanity, to claim your object?

And why should I help?

all i want is to live,

and live in peace.

please let me be.

Believer of love, I am

Believer of life, I am

Just a meek minority, yes, I am.

all i want is to live,

and live in peace.

please let me be.

-Shivam

Unspoken Emotions

Unspoken emotions, a story by me..

Unspoken Emotions

Ah! The time when all students hoped they had never gone to a school or a college- The time of examinations! The same was the situation in the medical college, where Shyam and Rinku were frantically trying to mug up the last portions of their course. The Biochemistry viva was due in an hour! It was then that Shyam stood up and said, “Rinku, I want to take a short break. I’ll come back in five minutes.” Rinku was irritated. He was supposed to teach her Biochemistry and now, he was going for a break! Knowing Shyam, she announced she’ll accompany him too, to ensure he came back on time.

Shyam was walking in his usual half walk-half run style and Rinku was having trouble catching up with him.

“Why do you always walk so fast Shyam?” an exasperated and tired Rinku asked.

“Fast walking increases blood circulation, and helps in thinking faster,” Shyam replied as quickly as he walked. Then, to Rinku’s relief, he slowed down. It was the sight of a tall boy with whitish complexion that made Shyam stop. He walked over to have a chat with him, and returned in a minute after delivering a couple of backslaps to the boy. Rinku was a silent observer to the whole conversation. She leaned on to a pillar, adjusted her lustrous hair, tied them with a ribbon on the back of her head and gazed at the two boys who were laughing in an inhumanely loud manner at a private joke. Perhaps she stood there gazing for a bit too long, as Shyam poked at her back.

“Hey, don’t you want to study? Come on, let’s go!” he said, waving his hand in air. Rinku was silent throughout the return journey and sat quietly as Shyam tried to explain her Embden-Mayerhof-Parnas pathway of glucose metabolism and the de novo pathway of purine synthesis. Something was wrong, and Shyam could sense it.

It was obvious that Rinku was sad. That was enough reason for Shyam to close his biochemistry journal and console her. After all, you can’t be best friends with just anyone. You have got to be with the person every time you are needed.

“What’s the matter Rinku?” Shyam asked concernedly.

Rinku suppressed a sob, and then whispered, “Shyam, you know that guy from BJ medical college, that guy with whitish complexion?”

“Not exactly,” Shyam shrugged his shoulders, and continued, “I have shared a few jokes with him. That’s all. I don’t even know his name. Why? Has he hurt you? Or has teased you in any way? I will teach him a lesson!!” His tone grew more and more aggressive as he ended his longish monologue.

“No Shyam! You will not do any such thing. I have hurt him enough.” Saying this, Rinku fell silent and started gazing outside the window, as if fascinated by some extraordinary vision on an ordinarily sunny morning. Her reply stunned Shyam. This was atypical of Rinku. She would never admit her own fault even if the reality would fly out of window and slap her in the face. Shyam now shifted his role from a ‘sincere co-student’ to a ‘genuine friend’.

“What's the problem? Consider me your friend and tell me.”

“Will you promise me that you won’t tell it to anyone?”

“It’s my promise.”

“Okay then. We were a pair in the school, me and Abhi. I loved him and he loved me. See, he gave me this.” Saying this, she took out two metal hearts as seen in biology textbooks.

“Hardly romantic.” Shyam muttered, more as conversation filler than an observation.

“Yeah, I know. But we were to be doctors and hence this.”

“Cool. Then what happened?”

“I deserted him.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t want my parents to find out about him. And we were too young. This would create complications in our life. Best was to leave him and we vowed not to talk to each other,” Rinku concluded amidst sobs.

Shyam wiped her tears with his handkerchief and waited for her sobs to subside. His one eye was on the watch, and it showed him that they had only thirty minutes to go before the Practical exams, and still a lot of course was left to be revised! But that didn’t stop him from asking his next question.

“Does he have a new girlfriend?”

“No. He is single because he is unable to forget me. This is the reason why I have not taken interest in any boy. It is my moral obligation towards him.”

Saying this Rinku started crying again, but these were the tears of relief, of being relieved of a burden. For a moment Shyam forgot that it was the University biochemistry practical exam. He forgot that he was supposed to remember the horrible names like ‘quinonimiene’ or ‘cholestadiene’. He forgot that he was supposed to give viva exam to someone he might have never met. All he could remember was the days he had spent with Rinku, thinking that he will propose her one day, that he will be a Prince who will sweep her off her feet. But now, he was left sweeping the dust after someone else, a whitish fellow, who looked girlish compared to the towering frame of his, had swept her off her feet. But he realized quickly that Rinku needed him to be strong, to be able to support her in this delicate moment and most importantly, to make her pass the viva, which was now due in only ten minutes.

“Rinku, please listen.  We can talk about this for a whole day once we finish our viva. Remember, it is the last exam, and after this, we are free! So please be a good girl and wipe off your tear,” saying this, Shyam playfully added the classic line, “because Pushpa I hate tears!”

“Shut up you idiot!” Rinku slapped Shyam’s hand playfully, and smiled, “you always manage to bring a smile to my tearful face! How?”

“That’s my trade secret sweetie! If I reveal it, everyone would start making you smile! What would happen to me then?” then abandoning the joke, he said seriously, “Now, Rinku, do you really want to pass the viva?” The last line had the desired effect and they spent the last ten minutes revising furiously, the various complex biochemical cycles. Then a bell rang, and an elderly peon came out to announce that the Biochemistry viva had begun and the candidates were required to be present in the laboratory within five minutes to get their exercises.

Shyam had a relatively easy exercise. He was first supposed to test for presence of proteins in the given sample of urine (thankfully artificial), and then determine the amount of glucose in the given blood sample (actually real!) by colorimetry. But the ace was his viva. So far, Shyam was the highest scorer in viva examination. Soon enough, his turn for viva came. The examiner was a thick rimmed gentleman with grey, thinned out hair and a pencil moustache. He gazed at Shyam for some time and fired his first volley,

“Describe the EMP pathway of glycolysis.” It was a simple enough question. Shyam had just taught Rinku the Embden-Mayerhof-Parnas pathway of glycolysis. He started on a confident note, “Sir, it starts with the phosphorylation of glucose to glucose-6-phosphate by glucokinase, followed by its conversion to glucose-1, 6-bisphosphate,” suddenly Shyam was lost in thought. The scene that took place a few minutes ago with Rinku was being played in his mind over and over again. The lines “We were a pair in school, me and Abhi,” were being played in his mind again and again. These lines were like an opaque screen trying to block out all the information that was in his brain. He stopped speaking.

“Yes, what happens next?” the elderly professor tried to revive Shyam’s memory, oblivious of the churning that was taking place inside his mind.

“Sorry sir, I don’t know,” Shyam resigned to his fate.

“What! You don’t know glycolysis! What a shame! Okay, perhaps you can shed some light on the functions of Vitamin C?”

Shyam was again caught in the desperate battle with his mind. Rinku’s image and her lines kept flashing repeatedly in his mind. Finally he gave up, saying, “Sorry sir, I don’t know.”

“I don’t believe it! How low the standards of education have fallen! Get out! You don’t deserve to be in my viva,” the elderly professor was flushed red with anger. Shyam quietly walked out, his shoulders drooped. He knew that he had screwed up big time, and only God could save him.

The exam was over. Shyam was sad and angry for not being able to answer so easy questions. As he was walking away slowly and sadly towards his bike, a cheery voice came from behind, “Hey Sam!” Shyam smiled. Only one person could call him by such an absurd name. It was Minisha, his very good friend, and unfortunately, Rinku’s arch-enemy. Shyam had a tough time fulfilling his commitments as a friend to both girls.

“Hi Mini!” He called her out with an equally ridiculous nickname, “How was your viva?”

“What to say! Oh God! I am in so much trouble! Oh God, please help me!” Minisha replied in her characteristic hurried manner. Another of her traits was most of incidents occurring with her were tragic, and if her tragedies were to be believed in the scale which she described, she must have died a hundred times over!

“What happened again?” Shyam asked bemusedly. He had gone through this conversation many times.

“Leave it yaar, it’s too tragic! What about you? You seem a little sad.” She enquired worriedly.

“Yeah, it’s a little problem with… I don’t think you would like to know. Leave it. Let’s go for an ice cream! I am dying for it!” Shyam said. He had earlier asked Rinku too, but she had refused as according to her, good girls didn’t go out with boys alone. Whether Minisha too considered herself a good girl remained a matter of chance for Shyam. Evidently, her definitions of a ‘good girl’ were a little less stringent and she agreed to come with Shyam. For Shyam, it was a way to stop ruminating about his past feelings about Rinku, and to pull the plug on his imagined romance.

“You know Sam,” Minisha said, wiping her lips with a tissue paper, “I have always longed for someone who can understand my feelings. Someone who can love me, in spite of knowing my weaknesses.” Shyam was taken aback. It was exactly what he was thinking after the incident with Rinku. He too was feeling very lonely. Suddenly, as if on an impulse, Shyam heard himself say, “Mini, I love you.”

Minisha’s mouth, which had opened to say something else, didn’t utter a single voice, and stayed open. A moment later, she regained her senses and said softly, “Shyam, you know what you are talking about?”

“Yes Mini, I know what I am talking about. I love you,” Shyam replied confidently. He was about to add “from my heart,” but he stopped, knowing that it was not true.

“But I thought you loved that Rinku!” Minisha replied after somewhat recovering from the shock. Shyam froze. He realized how transparent his feelings for Rinku would have been, that even a girl who hasn’t met her would be able to decipher them. “Everyone could read my love for Rinku, except Rinku herself!” Shyam muttered.

“Did you say something?”

“No... Listen Mini, Rinku was my friend. And you, you are my girlfriend!”

Minisha laughed and said, “Not yet, sweets. I am yet to say yes.”

“In that case, we’ll call for separate bills!” Shyam said with a laugh.

Two days later, Shyam again went to the same ice cream parlor with Minisha, ordered the same ice creams but this time, there were no separate bills. It was Shyam’s first date, his first romp with romance after being crushed by his previous crush. Minisha, over an hour long chat on the phone the previous night, told him how she was recovering from a messy break-up for one year, and that she was glad to have Shyam by her side. That time, an hour seemed too long for Shyam. Little did the poor fellow know that soon, hours would fly away like minutes, as he’d spend most of his time and all of his pocket money on Minisha!

They explored more dating joints. To Shyam’s surprise, his own city had many places exclusively for young, romantic souls and he was shocked at his own lack of knowledge of the same. Each evening was spent in a new coffee shop or ice cream bar, either sipping coffee or eating chocolate ice creams from each others’ cups. Shyam was in heaven, and he took Minisha with him too!

Then one day, that moment came which Shyam had been dreading for so long- the encounter with Rinku. His affair with Minisha was not a secret after a fortnight, and the news spread around faster than a wildfire among the romance-starved students of the medical college. It was a ‘big deal’ amongst Shyam’s friends, and Shyam was again in the news for romantic reasons after his incident with Preity Sharma in the first year. Being his ‘best friend’, it was obvious that Rinku would get to know of it sooner or later.

“Shyam! Look at me!” Rinku thundered.

“That’s what I had been doing for one year,” Shyam muttered. Rinku didn’t hear it.

“What did you say?”

“Eh?” Shyam gave the most idiotic look he could muster.

“Don’t look like a fool! You know I am angry on what happened between you and Minisha!” Rinku screamed.

“Rinku, try and understand…” Shyam began to pacify Rinku, but he was cut off by Rinku before he could speak anything, “Don’t you utter a word! I thought you were my best friend, and here are you, fraternizing with the enemy!” Rinku’s stream of anger continued.

“Fraternizing? From where did you pick that word Rinku? And listen, I retain the right to fall in love with the person I like, okay? It’s my life after all!” Shyam countered Rinku.

“Okay, it’s your life. Live it the way you want, but from now, keep me out of it!” Saying this, Rinku walked away in a huff. Nobody could see a tiny droplet of tear from her left eye. Shyam called out aloud to Rinku. She stopped. “Listen Rinku, I need to tell you one fact,” Shyam’s mystery laden sentence made Rinku turn around. Shyam continued, “Rinku, I had loved you for the last one year. One year! And I had hoped to propose you after our first year. But when I heard about you and Abhi, my heart was broken. Minisha was my balm. She filled my life with the happiness that you unwittingly had taken away.”

“Over? Fine, I forgive you for romancing my enemy. And listen Mr. Shyam, you can forget me forever. Forget Rinku forever. Pluck me out as you would remove a suture, cleanly and aseptically. Bye, and see you in heaven!”

Shyam felt shattered. He felt as if somebody had removed all his blood and replaced it with bile. The gathered crowd walked away after watching the live drama between two now-ex friends.

Just as Rinku was turning back, Minisha shouted from across the corridor, “Hey Sammy! Wait for me!” Shyam could hear the unusually loud “Huh!” from Rinku as she increased the pace and length of her steps. Minisha tapped his shoulder from behind, “What happened between you two?” she asked casually.

“Nothing. Just settling some old issues. You tell me, where you wanna go today?”

“Actually that’s why I came to meet you. I’ll be going out of station with my parents to a conference they’ve attend. The whole day they’d be in the conference and I’ll explore the resort with his colleagues’ children, who are all my friends.”

“That’s great,” Shyam sighed, rather than cheered.

“What happened? Aren’t you happy, Sammy?” Minisha cupped her hands on Shyam’s face as she asked.

“Oh no Mini, that’s not true! I am so much happy for you. I’ll miss you baby!” Shyam recovered in an instant.

“I’ll miss you too! And yeah, my mobile will be switched off as no phones are allowed there,” saying this, she walked away.

“So, no girlfriend for a week, and no best friend for life,” Shyam lamented silently.

The week passed slowly. He missed the amusedly annoying chatter of Minisha, the sweetly funny sulking of Rinku when Shyam did something stupid. He missed them both, but was unable to reach either. Then, one lazy afternoon, when Shyam was watching TV, his phone rang. It was Minisha’s call.

“Hi Sam!” a cheery voice of Minisha lovingly called out Shyam’s name.

“Hi Mini! How are you?” Shyam’s voice was laced with more force and less enthusiasm.

“Let’s meet today! I want to introduce you to one of my friends.”

“Okay!”

They decided to meet at the place where they had first gone for the ice cream, where Shyam had proposed Minisha. Shyam quickly got ready. Just as he was about to kick start his motorcycle, his phone rang. Thinking that it must be Minisha with a change of plans, Shyam took his mobile out. It was from Ashwini, Rinku’s friend.

“Hi Ashwini!”

“Shyam, listen,” a serious tone replaced the normally cheerful voice, “Rinku hasn’t taken to your break up very well. She has been crying continuously since a week.”

“But Ashwini, what are you talking about? We have never had a link up! How could we have a break up?”

“Shyam, you were always dumb, we knew it by your stupid antics to make us laugh, but you were also blind!”

“What the…”

“Listen, can you talk to her right now? Please?”

“Ashwini, I am going to CCD with Mini. We’re going out after a week!”

“Shyam, you idiot! You never saw how much Rinku loved you? She loved you more than she had ever loved anybody!”

“Impossible! She loved that Abhi or something.”

“No Shyam, she didn’t even know that boy. It was an innocent prank to see whether you loved Rinku too. If you had confronted her once, just once, with your love, she would have been yours!” Shyam could not reply.
The exasperated sound of, “Hello! Hello!” was being heard from the speaker but Shyam had lost all his voice.

Shyam reached the ice cream joint in twenty minutes. Hoping for some change in mood on meeting his sweetheart, Shyam pushed the door open and located Minisha. Boy, she looked so cute! Just as he was admiring her, Shyam’s eyes fell on another boy sitting with Minisha. To his shock, it was the same white skinned guy, Abhi!

“Hi Minisha!” Shyam warmly hugged Minisha and looked at ‘Abhi’ enquiringly.

“Hi Sam,” Minisha replied a little less enthusiastically than she normally would, and continued, “Here, meet Vikas. He was my ex-classmate.”
Shyam shook hands with Vikas. Minisha continued, “Shyam, please sit down and listen this very carefully.”

Shyam was puzzled at the mysterious way in which Minisha spoke, as he sat down on the sofa. Minisha spoke after a short cough, “Shyam, I will come straight to the point. I loved Vikas in school, and he loved me too.  But our relationship ended abruptly when we parted ways after 12th. Remember me telling you about a messy break-up? It was my affair with Vikas. Then, I met you and our love bloomed. I had almost forgotten him. When I met him at the holiday resort a week ago, our old flames were rekindled. I am sorry, but I need to break up from you. You will always be my friend, but I cannot love you. Sorry!”

Shyam merely smiled, and said, “In that case, we’ll have call for separate bills!”

“Thanks for understanding Sam!” Minisha said in a choked up voice.

Shyam merely paid his bill and left the place. Rinku, who was sitting there with Ashwini, saw a solitary figure walking out of the shop, with a slow, staggering walk, and his hands in his pockets. If one would approach this figure, they could see a stream of tears running from his eyes, and a smile plastered on his face, as if the man is smiling at the cruelty of his own fate, as if the man is voicing the sound of an unspoken emotion. Seeing him, Rinku smiled for a mini second and burst into tears.

The Mask

Behind the mask, a false face thrives,

Behind the disguise, a hollow humanity survives.

A facade we show,

exhibit as our true selves,

built upon, hiding the edifice

that is truly our bare self.

Behind the mask, a false face thrives,

Behind the disguise, a hollow humanity survives.

The mask of laughter,

The mask of joy,

Some mask to unmask,

All mask to decoy.

Behind the mask, a false face thrives,

Behind the disguise, a hollow humanity survives.

A mask, well, is just that,

a covering, casing, wrapping on life,

Behind the mask, a false face thrives,

Behind the disguise, a hollow humanity survives.

Statistic

A statistic maketh a man

The man becometh a number.

The track is long, winding,

With numerous hurdles thrown in at will,

And running, slaving on it,

Are the zombies, toiling with an inked till.

A statistic maketh a man

The man becometh a number

A blasphemy it is, on the track,

To have an emotive quality.

And digits of the numerical kind matter

More than a human personality.

A statistic maketh a man

The man becometh a number

The track ends where the rainbow does,

And the gold at the end is but a Leprechaun’s.

But instead of seeing the seven splendid shades,

He grabs the gold at the advent of dawn.

A statistic maketh a man

The man becometh a number

Time to be aroused

From a wakeful slumber.

Stop once and think,

Is the effort worth the number?

The difficulty of being good

Picking up litter from others' paths,

and dirtying my own hands,

mocked at for my naivete, I realize

the difficulty of being good.

The world is full of crooks they say,

and help is not without motive.

Laughed at for being selfless, I realize,

the difficulty of being good.

Crushing the competition ruthlessly,

the world is ruled by kings.

Sniggered at for being a joyful Joker, I realize,

the difficulty of being good.

But sometimes, I just feel happy,

content on seeing others smile.

Admired for bringing them joy, i realize,

the necessity of being good.

Eyelash

Broken from my eye,

fallen on my palm in a flash

So near, and yet so far

Oh, my beautiful shiny eyelash.

Wishes abound hidden,

within the black cuticle of yours

And yet, thee, i wish to retain

just for the time, that was ours.

You irritated me, poking in my eye,

and often, you brought me tears

but without you, incomplete is my eye

for you were in it all these years.

Now you are gone, and have become a desolate's wish

and as I see you depart, i have but one desire

Come back, my love, to the eye of my heart

Come back, my love, for you, I admire.

Away, away, away you'll fly,

and before long, you'll be gone.

The lash of my eye, the beat of my heart,

why did you leave me alone?

-Shivam

Adjust

An evening walk in a pristine park,

and I end up being chased by a stray dog's bark.

Sprawling on ground, covered with dust,

the watchman lifts me and says, "Please, adjust!"

An elevator ride in a multiplex,

ends up an exercise in gag reflex.

Extra passengers, the liftman tries to thrust,

and whispers mockingly, "please, adjust!"

A woman walking alone, in a dark street,

gets viewed by goons as walking meat.

Eying her, salivating, blinded by lust,

they catch her hand and jeer, "Please adjust!"

A national character, a national malady.

In the name of contentment, merely a parody.

Being happy by not getting what we must,

Amazed I am, by our capacity to adjust.

-Shivam

The rebel

So, what makes one a rebel? what forces a person to leave his/her routine life and disturb the 'ordinary' lives of others? I try to explore an answer to it. mind it, its not a 'solution'. Its merely an answer to the question I was wondering for some time. This poem might seem accusatory (projection defense mechanism to my psychology friends) but its honest. Its what I believe, and you all have full right to disagree to me. I have not minced any words, nor is there an element of softness. Its poured from the deepest corner of my heart. Enjoy!

Was walking down a street, I,
my path never straighter.
But you pushed me, punched me, kicked me,
And threw me in rebellion's crater.

You bound my spirit, you didnt let me be
You beat me, and beat me,
And made a rebel out of me.

In the ocean of the world,
I was but a mite.
But your seeking to exterminate my will,
made me adapt to a mightier might.

You bound my spirit, you didnt let me be,
you beat me, and beat me,
and made a rebel out of me.

With searing iron of accusation,
me, a threat to peace you brand.
A peace loving, simple man, at your behest,
is now labelled a brigand.

you bound my spirit, you didnt let me be,
you beat me, and beat me,
And made a rebel out of me.
-Shivam

Are you entertained?

I ask you, beseechingly enough,
Are you entertained?

Seeing us wither, tither
Raise in hope, and then dither
Fly high like an eagle's feather
All, just to turn into nether.

I ask you...

Seeing us struggle, seeing us fight
Seeing us crumble beneath your might
Seeing us become what we aren't
Just for the merriment of your sight.

I ask you..

We shed blood, and we shed tears
We face our most innate fears
We shout, scream, plead, curse
Just to gain the audience of your ears.

I ask you..

A reality show, others may call it,
But we call it Life.
We struggle to win it by all means
and by facing your-provided strife.

I ask you, O God, O Almighty,
Are you entertained?

"Yes I am, Yes I am.
For I am the one who maketh you,
And you are my favorite child.
For I will give you the strength to face
And I will give you the will to fight.
For I am the Creator of the Day, if I am the enforcer of the night."

The beggar

Dispelling all qualms, stood he, asking for alms

Arms spread out wide, in front of

a cozying couple, in a tight little squeeze,

Hoping to squeeze out, a rupee or two, maybe five.

With folded hands, there he stands

looking at stones; where his boss' eyes

should have been, motionless, emotionless

An increment, a hike, an affordability for his new bike, he begged.

With head bent, and heart rent, he stood,

tears welling down his eyes; a prayer set

on his quivering lips, to a God set in stone

A good boy for his only daughter, he begged.

At them we may sneer, jeer

With taunts, insults and barbs; and yet they are

a mirror, a reflection, an image of

our deepest, darkest self, we all are afraid of.

-Shivam'da

The Afreet

The Afreet (Afreet- an evil monster)

Battered,bloodied,bruised
on the floor he lay
broken bones he could deal with, but
his pride broke, as if made of clay.

Whose fault it was? Whose peccancy?
Whose dereliction was made into his blunder?
He wondered, as lay bandaged,
His life, his worth, his future asunder

He could have left, deft as he was
For avenues new, for pastures anew
But he stayed to serve his own, his country,
which mocked him at every cue.

He was expected to be crushed by this
but managed to stand tall
He stood back and fought his way,
For he had learnt not to stay down, after a fall.

The whipping boy for the lazy king
has grown stronger with each lash
He holds the hand, that held the whip
He won't be anybody's fodder to thrash.

He never wanted all this fight,
all he wished, was to diagnose, to treat
but the fires of Hell, had hardened him hard
And he became today's heartless afreet.