I Miss You

Not a day passes when I don’t miss you,

Not a moment goes when I don’t think about you!

I pick up the phone to call u

But that’s when inhibitions ask me,” why the hell would you?”

I wish I could text you,

But I know they would never be delivered to you;

I wonder what good, technology has done to us?

Damn, what a joke…we don’t even have time to laugh at us!

I cook for myself now,

Cause your new lover pays your pizza bills with a gentle bow!

 I miss you screaming at me when I leave the tap on,

Cause deep down I know, I’m just an episode by gone!

The messed up bed reminds me of you.

The tears let me know; it’s someone else now, who sleeps close to you.

I wipe my tears and call up my  pal,

That’s when I realize it connected to your voicemail dial!

I try keeping myself occupied in work and play;

But It seems that the only work I do..is try an fight your memories everyway!

 I promise myself I won’t ever think about you every night,

That’s when the loneliness grips me even more tight!

The city had colors we once painted together,

Now, there’s only the reminiscence of a trust broken forever.

All I wanted was to treasure these memories to cherish,

Alas; you failed me with reasons to make them perish!

I want you to be happy wherever you are;

Just say a “Hi”, if we ever crossed in a bar.

I love you true, I hope u realize someday,

“ I Miss You” will make more sense to you only that day!

  

PS: This is so freaking lame!!!

Barah Aana

I was feeling out of place, to say the least! These new clothes, my son said fitted me well; but I sweated in them more than I have ever perspired in my entire life. The Air Conditioning system of this swanky, uber class restaurant wasn’t faulty; it was me who didn’t fit in the scene! To be honest, I have never entered a restaurant; leave alone the fact of using cutlery. I was at unease when food was laid out at the table, so well prepared and well served…it gave me a new realization to the concept of food!

In all scrupulousness, my closest encounter to an eatery was the mangy road side arrangement of broken benches and make shift tables, which served a meal of rice and pulses for a meager 2 rupees. I was a rickshaw puller; that was my profession and my way of earning a livelihood. 7 to 10 rupee a day, didn’t leave much to save for indulgence in the seemingly insignificant joy’s of life.  My wife’s errand as a domestic helper added a few extra vegetables to the meal, but food was mostly a scarcity to feed my family of four. Happiness seemed a luxury amongst the chaos of traffic lights, the smoke of automobiles and the draconian weather conditions. I was paid for ferrying weights; over laden by scoffing of humans or the silence of objects, life moved as long as the wheels rolled!

The city had given me a rare dream, a dream which I had nurtured since the time I left my village. An incorrupt dream..a belief that I wouldn’t sleep hungry for days! From working at a tea stall, to various odd jobs I have seen the city grow. I grew, but the city matured much faster. From living in disowned drainage pipes, to deserted park benches, bus stops and pavements.. it was always a crusade to have a peaceful sleep; uninhibited by the stroll of night guards or the showers of rain or more lately the trifling occurrences of the rich. Over the years, my insignificant savings had allowed me to rent a room. I was happy; I had an arrangement to be called ‘Home’.

I never conundrumed myself for the reason of my marriage; maybe it was the loneliness of my heart or passion of youth or a demand disguised in customs of this society I entered a new phase of life. She was young and lived in the same locality. Our marriage was arranged and blessed by the elders of the neighborhood, through a small celebration of rituals and feasting…I took home my new bride! Over the years, our union bore us a son and a baby girl. But by the time the young chap could learn the affairs of the twisted human mind, she eloped with her lover. One of the drivers in the household she worked. I realized money spoke and comforted more than love ever did in this ever changing city. When you are abandoned with a toddler and questions unanswered; life surprisingly catapults you towards the dingy sheds of locally brewed alcohol and emotions wrapped in tears of unvalued living soon finds solace in the dark alleys of a red light area!

Poverty and my new bohemian life pattern gave way to inadequate care, lack of nourishment and an unhealthy living condition for my children. Though the doctor, appointed by an NGO, confirmed the death of my little girl by malaria; I knew it was me who had killed my daughter! Her death detached me further away from all family ties and responsibilities.

 Amongst this chaos my son was growing up. I provided him with food, shelter, clothing and sleepless nights caused by the pain of unjustifiable whipping. I never realized when I had turned into a monster. The scorn of the world, the intoxicated brawls and the loneliness inside had killed the traits of being a father.

 I do not blame him for running away the night I made him bleed for stealing my money. I realized he too had the genes of his mother; I never saw him in years, my son…only a rage prevailed that he stole money from me. I had cursed; that he died..Disowned him as mine, I pledged that I would never see his face again! With him gone, the last link of my family had broken and I was once again left alone.

As years passed, I grew weaker and my indulgence in liquor had injected in me a series of ailments, I never had money to cure! I no longer pulled the rickshaw, which was now banned by the govt. My mental stability was dwindling on the side of being deranged, and acquaintances were fast dwindling. Food was a now on the generosity of the remaining old friends and ever fading known faces.

This morning, the hustle of the street urchins disturbed my peaceful nap. It wasn’t their usual teasing or calling me with derogatory names or pulling a prank; the excitement of a big white car had gripped the neighborhood.

“Baba”… an unfamiliar voice echoed in my ears! A young lad in formal attire was standing in front of me. My delusive mind failed to recognize his identity. I tried to evade any conversation with this unfamiliar man, but his words had surprisingly struck a chord in my dried up heart. My old eyes were moist but I didn’t allow my tears to roll! The gathering eventually disappeared leaving the two of us to attempt a conversation. My son had bought me new clothes and toiletries; it was a while since I had the luxury of using such novelties. Though I tried to refuse, the hunger born out of days of starvation made me clean up and put on these new clothes. This man had promised to buy me lunch!

I was quite all the way, as his car drove us to a big restaurant. Neither did the dazzle of the ambience   catch my fancy nor did the occurrences of all the events since morning stir in me any thought to be baffled. The only feeling that was prevalent was hunger and the wait for food to arrive!

At the table the gentle man spoke of his growing years, his career and his success. I tried to pay attention to everything he had to say, but just couldn’t understand a word. His expressions kept changing from anger to concern and unrest. He had tears in his eyes at times, which he wiped with a pleasant smelling handkerchief. He asked me questions, I couldn’t relate or answer to; an eerie quietness spread across my face.

 The uneasiness of the young lad was disturbed by the food brought at the table. I stared at it but couldn’t eat. I had never used a fork or a spoon and my deranged mind didn’t know what to do. My animal like attempt to eat by hands from the plate infused a violent and uncontrollable rage in the man across the table. With a volley of sharp words and mighty swing he threw the entire serving on the floor.

I was horrified; covered my face to evade the peering eyes of people around and more so, to hide from the wrath of this lad. I sat on my chair watching the cleaners and waiters bring back normality to the scene, but the pain of hunger finally made me sob.

My lad returned to the table after a brief absence. I don’t know where he went, but he returned with a little composure. He placed an envelope on the table, said it would take care of me for a while! He added, that food would be packed and be given to me in a while and a man would escort me back. I sat there, still unmoved by his words.             

” I don’t know if it’s my remorse or my revenge; may be the repayment of your stolen Barah Anna’s!” … Before he left he placed a few coins on the table! 

Note: All characters and incidents in the article are fictional. Any resemblance to a person living or dead and situations in the past, present or future is purely coincidental!

Tears Of an Auguste.

 On an OFF-Performance day a marginal crowd would assemble only to enjoy the brawl of fellow performer’s or to add spice to a new scandal. But it’s not very common on a day where people tend to stay in their cots for as long as they can allow themselves, to gather in and around my tent when no titillating occurrence was doing its rounds. The gathering was growing even more chaotic by the minute and this muddle was irking me to the brink of violent vilification.

My name is Sebastian! It was a name given to me not by my parents but the orphanage which raised me. I had learnt the meaning of the word ‘bastard’ at a time when kids of my age cried because their parents wouldn’t buy them the latest action hero toy! We did play with toys, the ones donated by generous grownups who had lost their importance or the one’s which were left over post the yard-sale and a few which were just extra allotments in the attic of a family. We all managed to have our favorite toys, but could never go off to sleep holding them in our tiny arms! We shared…everything, the question of like or consent wasn’t consequential. I had a favorite toy… A Clown, it was my favorite cause I could spend a long time without anyone else demanding his/her time with it. The kids were scared of its red hair and big shoes. Blobber’s white face brightened into a smile of stretched faded redness. As time progressed, my bond with Blobber grew stronger. He had become more than just a friend; an accomplice to my innocent pranks, a silent listener to all my tears and a proud face praise the woven dreams of my ever changing ambitions!

 The night I escaped, I took Blobber with me. The pain and excess bleeding had paralyzed me, but somehow I had a drop of energy left in me to disappear. More than the occurrence, the shame that killed my innocence inside kept me awake for countless nights. Child labor is a crime by modern age morality, and abuse is punishable by law! I wish I knew these facts in the age where It could have helped me. I ran.. as hard, as fast and as far.. as I could! People say time is a great healer, I prayed to know if my entire life was the duration to ease this unease.

 From a delivery boy to countless odd jobs, the journey to my present profession has been an amalgamation of experiences and a latent zeal to perform. Unlike kids of my age who would wet their hair to resemble the machismo of the genre of Steve McQueen or Gregory Peck, the lonely smile of Stan Laurel always captured my imagination. In more ways than one I believed I could relate to this gentleman. Thoughts of his life and the pain he endured on-screen to evoke laughter in the audiences induced in me a belief that I was just another shade of him.

I was an actor, not in a theatrical group…but in a much bigger Hippodrome track , known to all as Circus! May be it was the gypsy spirit to run away , or the magnitude of Laurel’s resemblance or chance; or may be the summation of all of it, but I had now entered the doors to a new life and episode!

 It wasn't the best or the biggest but I was part of it. I still don’t know whether my baggy plaids accented with colorful polka dots and loud stripes or the boast wide-collared shirts, long neckties, unruly colored wigs and over sized noses and shoes; or the pies in the face, the water squirts, the knock downs on my backside or the accidental seat on wet paint, or ripping off my pants caused the laughter! Life and people had a good laugh at my despondent elan, but why should I complain! The former is the reason of existence and the later the tool!

Life traveled to diff. parts of the world bringing in new acts, colors and faces who laughed, yet the melancholy remained the same! Though an old Trouper, the ever changing roster of new faces detained chances of any strong bond of friendship. The circus animals, were dearer to me, so most of my free time would be dedicated to their care and grooming. Though there wasn’t an extra payment for it, I didn’t care! My life was aimless and the reverie of family never struck a cord, I was just happy to be with old Blobber and these new animals.

 This fall we were performing in Barnstable County. Amid the new inductees, was a young beautiful Russian acrobat, Isakova. There were beautiful women and then there was her. Young, spirited and a brilliant performer. With time she had become the star of the show and a material for conspiracy amongst her female counterparts. The men fantasized her and the crowd loved her. May be it was her love for animals or the loneliness of a dark past or a never said ordeal of emotions, that had struck a companionship between us! For the first time in my life I had something beautiful. As time passed, our friendship grew stronger, and peering eyes turned greener! Every minute spent was beautiful, I was never happier!

 After a spectacular Charivari, I returned to my tent. I was used to seeing her waiting for me, and it had become a habit. But tonight she wasn’t there. An inquisitive curiosity followed the casual surprise. I wondered if she could be in her tent or the green room. So I ventured in my stage costume to find her innocent absence. She wasn’t in her room, neither the changing area. My impatience had grown to an fretful unease. But life had a diff. story to unfold tonight.

 On my way back to my tent, the flickering of the incandescent bulb in the manager’s tent caught my attention. On some other night I might have just passed by, but something in me made my steps follow the source. As I neared, the shadow of two people caught in an act of intimate proximity shimmered through the thin canvas. It was her. The nakedness of her body engulfed in another man’s lascivious arms plagued me. I stood there motionless! I gasped to scream, but no noise would come out. Tears smudged my makeup and the coldness in my heart impugned this visual. I ran away, before she put her clothes on.

She had never said anything to express a romantic fervour, maybe it was just a fragment of my imagination! But tonight I felt the same aspersion that had killed my childhood… forever. While the animals rested in their confinements and my co-performers indulged in merry making and drinking…I returned to my lonely tent, where Old Blobber waited!

 It was unusual; I was standing in the crowd and I could see myself in the bed. I had turned blue. The line of white froth had dried up and vilified my makeup of Laugh lines! I couldn’t recognize myself. People grew frantic and a few in the crowd had broken into tears as I saw myself being carried away in a stretcher in an ambulance!

 I saw Isakova watching the ambulance pass out of sight from the kerb of a tent. Her eye’s were moist!

Note: All characters and incidents in the plot are fictional. Any resemblance to any person living or dead or to any situation in the past, present or future tense is purely coincidental!

The Longest Wait

The general rule to enter a pub on a Saturday night in Desi style is the magic mantra…” Saturday night, Full tight”! Well its no mantra, but magic is sure to follow when you are so drunk that sense and sensibility translates to…”aaah! What?”

The Blood-Hound Pack was back in town after years of social messaging, and Overseas calls! Separated by careers and obligations, finally we had found an excuse to hunt again, together… as a pack! It was Bhaskar’s bachelor party!

The Name of our Gang will lose its cardinal prevalence if the background of the brother’en is not highlighted!

But, to throw a little light on the background on its origins and occurrences we need to raise a toast..not of the most expensive or classy whisky any currency can order in a pristine Glencairn Whisky glass, but of cheap dark red rum in a steel glass or even a coffee mug !

That’s how it all started..the night we were expelled from college, and detained for a term! Rohan, Satya, Shetty, Bhaskar and Me cursing our bald patched, gray haired, pot-bellied devil…our Head Of Dept. Well, we had used all adjectives that years of trash talking had taught us and extended them with ones we just invented. Anger and concern did bog us, but the thought of “what next” confused us even more! When a certain mathematical equation did test our logical abilities or a situation in life caused discomfort or failure in love life caused long periods of depression or whatever life un-presumptuously unpacked for us , our biggest..Purest.. and ultimate solution and answer to all such ramparts was The Red Fluid,bottled in plastic or glass by the famous Old Man..and stamped

                                                      “ 7 years Old Blended

                                                                       Old Monk

                                                                Very Old Vatted

                                                       42.8% V/V XXX Rum 25⁰ U.P. “

The best label ever; and no matter where the bottle wearing it was bought, the local liquor shop or smuggled army lot…it always had the same effect on us..Nirvana! Though God blessed men with the herbal essence of Nirvana, gently dried up in leaves and passed on by peddlers…our Old man was the “man” of this hour and countless other hours we spent and hours we promised to spend!

This evening we drank to our expulsion, and to make matter worse Bhaskar had returned to the room, yet again with sobby eyes.

 It wasn’t new for us. Over the past 3 years we have seen him breaking up with his super annoying girl-friend almost…I’m sorry I forgot the count, no. of times! His time outside hostel and college was wasted on mending his relationship. He was actually the testimonial to the phrase..”People FALL in love”! We were never proud of our grades, but at least our note pads had some scribbles related to academics, while useful notes never exhausted the pages…paper airplanes and accounts of Poker games willingly contributed to the cause! But, Bhaskar’s notepad was an epic of emulated poems and scripts from various sources, carefully hand written for his beloved. The idea of his strangulation did poke us every now and then, but somehow he lived to marry in two days time!

Shetty as we called him, was always addressed so to avoid the confusion of the Rohan’s. No matter which part of the world you belong to, similar names would always put u in a state of flummox! I mean think about it, how many real and unique names can u register for this huge world population? His dad was a Liquor merchant(just saying it, to highlight that fact that he was rich. This has no contribution to his drinking acumen). We believed alcohol provided a tough competition to blood in the race of fluid circulation in his body! He could drink…and that seems a little understated! Well, he could empty bottles and still walk a straight line to fetch more!! Damn! We never thought he would live to attend any of our weddings, but he proved us wrong( if u chose to ignore the minor hiccups in his liver condition!).

Think of the word “geek”! An image of a guy.. short, dark, pimple faced, buck toothed, heavy glassed and super loose fitted clothes fills your frame! That was our Satya, the brains and the assignment demolisher of the pack. His focus of interest was limited to books! From Applied Mechanics to Porn stars, his hands were busy either writing or….(u know)! There’s something that people from southern part of this country, have included in their daily food which made them so..ummm..horny! He kind of proved it. We made sure to use extra caution and precaution pre using his assignments to copy(hygiene was an issue, when it came to handling his notebooks)! But we loved him, cause he was the one who would always fetch the snacks for our binging periods!   

Rohan was the rock star of our group! He had a motorcycle, looks that would kill, a body women would die to dig their nails into and a charisma that would just do the trick. His absence from lectures was guessed around his skirt chasing expeditions and rides on long stretches of the unknown! He was the poster boy for most of the fresher’s and the venom pit for all who had known him…a little “more personally”! Though our senior, the thought of abatement of his chances to be still in college never bothered him! He was in the same year, for quite a few years and to be honest he was at the brink of being awarded an NFTE certificate! We never understood his psyche, what prevented him to quit or why he stuck to us or where he wanted his life to go! All we knew, that he was our hero! Rock was his music and he had the right muscles to pull us out of any peril!

I was just another guy. My life wasn’t that fancy nor my dreams so ambitious, so even if I pray I could add a few more lines, words wont just fit in!

Just like every party has an ending, our drinking shindig always had a dramatic ending! Either it was the hostel warden or buggers from other rooms or clinching of the stock! This time it was the warden. We had lost count for the no. of times we had been called in for such serious offence and neither one of us ever remembered or understood anything he uttered. But something stuck tonight! We were startled at Rohan’s retort..” We ain’t  dogs, we are hounds! Yes, we drank…we drank rum, bloody red rum..don’t f#@k* dare call us dogs!!! Cause we are hounds..blood sucking hounds..bloody BLOOD-HOUNDS”. Though his heroics and inebriate blabber caused us week’s expulsion, we didn’t mind the hospitality of Shetty’s uncle; more than that we remained “The Blood-Hounds” for life!

Surprising, how tagging a group of few men under a pedigree gave us such profound joy! Times have changed, but the tag still remained!

Satya is now working with NASA. Shetty, a business man running the inheritance of his father. Bhaskar is bored with his desk job at an off-shore IT firm and perplexed with the thought of his marriage in two days time. I was working at a bank and Rohan ran his automobile workshop and fabrication unit! We all were settled in a way and content with life!

We kept the tradition…toasted the first round with the drink from Our Old Man’s bottle! As pegs rolled, conversations tumbled! College, occurrences, women, savings, investments…we gallivanted from ideas to realities, to sense to fiction! Soon the fun tuned into cautions of marital experiences! Serious words of wisdom flowed in from all three corners.

Both Satya and Shetty were married and had toddlers. Rohan was living in with his girl friend, and I was still a bachelor! Bhaskar looked a little confused; to help himself digest this over flowing facts of marital cocktail, he gulped a couple of rounds in alarming quick succession! It’s understandable that, the groom-to- be would be nervous, but I guess the careless efforts of the remaining Hounds to impart marital knowledge, was rather a pile on to his already nervous state.

The new Govt. regulations prevent smoking in restaurants/ bars and I wanted to smoke, so I stepped out of the bar. Rohan had just lit his Navy Cut and I asked him for the light. Lighting up my stick, Rohan’s question hit me and rocked me off my balance, “Why didn’t u still marry?” I fumbled with my “u know..blah blah..”, and he stopped me!

Tales that were lost, but never forgotten untangled themselves in more threatening ways than pleasing ones! I might have fooled him into believing that I still wasn’t ready for marriage, but the truth was…her memories haunted me every night! She was beautiful, and I loved her! She was my lover in school. Love never grew complicated even when universities pinned us in diff regions of the country. Our mind sets were varied, but heart beats never failed to synchronize. We loved each other, and the distance or this world and its conspiracies never mattered. But time was yet to reveal its true face… What started as an innocent and beautiful love story, changed into a tale of “Out of sight, Out of mind” disaster. She moved to foreign shores, for a better life…for a better future, and I stayed on the same boat. The last that I spoke to her… She was happy with another man. Yet, I had stupidly asked her to marry me…to which she had laughed and disconnected the call!

The ring clung on the chain round my neck reminds me of dreams I refrain to let go, the lonely stare still tries to find you in moments that go..time has moved ahead with years untold.. but the lonely heart still waits for u to come back home, waits to narrate the story that remains untold!

Note: All characters and incidents in this story are imaginary or fictional. Any resemblance to any person living or dead; or any occurrence in the past, present or future tense is purely coincidental.

PS: The hounds were waiting for Drunk Bhaskar to be towed back to safety!!    

Neon Rendezvous

It’s not usual that I drink, more unusual is to toast with my employer’s at their apartment. But tonight was different, each one of us celebrated for reasons best to be described in words that we still were to figure out! May be to put an effort, for finding the perfect word..we might toast to “Life” but that would just be a just a part of the picture… to the turmoil we realized inside us!

I was the care taker of Sasha and Stefanya. Dusting and cleaning of their 3 room apartment didn’t take much time, however cooking was only an effort of transferring dishes in the refrigerator. These new generation kids can’t think beyond junk food! By the time the girls would hit back home, it was time for me to wrap up my work. So barely did we get chance to talk more than the usual.. this needs to be cleaned, where did u put my stuff…etc!

The girls not only differed in age but were on varied spheres of lifestyle. While Sasha enjoyed her late night parties and her frequent change of boyfriends, Stefy remained glued on to her fat books and papers till late night.

 Well, its simple to understand…cause in the morning I’m the one who receives a grin from a stranger, in his boxers trying to hunt for his remaining clothes and; I’m the one who takes Stefy’s glasses off while she sleeps on her chair surrounded by a mountain of paper with her morning cup of coffee.

Stefanya would be around 30-31, a lawyer and separated from her husband! It’s very rarely that I found her waking up in her own bed.  She loved her work or maybe she just wanted to drain out the last drop of energy to stop her mind loitering on unchartered territories. There were times when she would work from home; with a glass of scotch she would work for hours and then a careless drop would roll down her cheeks. Soon work would lose its prevalence and more alcohol would keep filling the empty glass. The empty bottle infused a rage that could not be controlled by just smashing it hard against the floor. Soon more things would start flying and ending on the floor or against the wall. Photos, whatever remained had been turned to ashes and the frames holding them had to be given away as scrap. Still, she managed to preserve a few. It was difficult to control her in this state, and sleep would follow only out of tiredness of crying. Her intoxicated heart has narrated stories time and again of pain, dreams, hopes and the culmination of all into emptiness. She can’t be described exactly as an alcoholic, but hard to say..for how long! I would be lying if I said I wasn’t worried at her loneliness and dependency towards alcohol, but I was just a care taker, I had to choose my words and concern cautiously! Life for her, was office..work..home..work..and scotch. Yes, there were men loathing for her, but she couldn’t care less. She ain’t the kind who would sleep around just for the heck of it! She had substance, but she was broken inside…hurt and battered, reeling under the heavy weight of memories which won’t just vanish in thin air! Life for her had become a monotony of events…but there was something she waited for, something she wanted..never to happen! Something she never said!

Sasha was about 23, just out of college..young, high spirited and everything that Stefy was’t. Her idea about life was limited to parties, men, fashion and gossips. She was a very pretty girl, and her list of boyfriends had surpassed the no. of shoes she bought! She was a hippie in a way and though her dad was rich enough to support her ways, he was too busy in meetings to hear his little girls dreams! She never grew sad over men, or where life’s gonna take her…the only concern was how she looked, if her couture was in-sync with present day trends and which parties were to be attended! She was nocturnal, rest in day time…and party all night long! From shopping sprees to midnight carnality…life was defined in parameters of glitz, glamour and sexual audacities! Did I think she was hollow inside? May be, but a young child with no mother and a father busy in board meetings, has a weird tendency of being rebellious. Where wrong is the only right, and the right is just a superficial belief of the corrupt society! She might have had a tough childhood, and may be its just a revenge to everything her young mind considered unfair!

I’m not their mother, and I shouldn’t be judging how these kids are. Neither it’s my job to rectify their ways..my job was to cook for them and clean their apartment, and I was paid well for it! But at 42, affection is just not stipulated to salary. I started caring more about these girls, cause as a mother I had failed to raise my child in the best manner. The streets had turned him into a peddler, and by the time he realized what life’s worth is…a shot in the head had silenced him forever! Gangs and their wars..how many lives have they taken, not even the police records can report! Ask a mother what it has taken, a lonely moist pair of eye’s will always narrate the same thing…a part of their existence!  My husband is an alcoholic, and the money he can save after his binge and payment to strippers was smoked up in rolls of Marijuana. So it was my job to put the bread on what could still be called My Family! It’s not that I haven’t thought of running away from his thrashings and abuses, but somehow I had convinced myself that it was my fate! So every night I would return to hell, and the next morning come back to what can still be called “essence of life”. For me these girls had become family, and over the years they had confined in me facts, dreams, aspirations and failures which made them what they were. I had always treaded carefully not to cross the line of being overly concerned; cause at the back of my mind, I knew I was just their care taker!

Today was different, I couldn’t come to the girls in the usual hours of work! The police had taken him away, for he was convicted of murder which happened out of a brawl in the bar! I didn’t feel any emotion upsetting me, just the delay of legal work which made me spend the morning at the police station caused discomfort. No, I didn’t want to bail him out..I didn’t want Stefy to help me..I was happy, that God had finally rescued me from years of pain.

By the time I went to them, it was late evening. Earlier, someone would inquire about the delay…but today the girls sat on the couch, quite! It was an unusual sight, generally Stefy doesn’t return so soon and Sash would just wake up by now or be getting ready for her nightly errands! I hesitated to inquire, and wasn’t quite sure to reveal the truth of my delay, when Stefy asked me to sit beside them. I did what I was asked to; a few mins. Of quietness and unease…the girls broke down! They held me tight, and sobbed frantically! I was more confused than surprised .

Rounds of vodka and scotch dropped the inhibitions of the girls to share the occurrences that led to this breakdown.

 Stefy had finally signed her divorce papers and the Court of Law had granted them the separation, while young Sash had mustered the courage to not abort her pregnancy.

The fate of events is unknown and seldom told, yet these individual occurrences had found the perfect coincidence to conglomerate in one day. They were diabolical to each one of us, in a way that would change our lives forever..maybe for better or for worse…we never know! We were dealing with bouts of contrasting emotions, we were happy…yet we were sad. We cried, yet managed to crack a lame joke. Tonight conversations knew no boundaries, everything under the sky was the reason we spoke..the reason we giggled, the reason that made us cry! The spirits had made the kids collapse in the couches, I still was awake toying with the last sip in my glass!

As I switched off the lights and cleared the place, the Neon sign of the nearby hoarding crept in through the curtains; it proudly read “Happy To Help!!”.  I coaxed the girls and covered them with bed sheets. A thought crossed my mind! Is God really looking after us…does everything happen for a reason..is pain just a test to prove our inner strength…a series of questions followed. Memories of my life and incidents of Stef n Sash’s life filled my imagination…and before I knew, I was fast asleep!

Note: All characters and incidents in this story are imaginary or fictional. Any resemblance to any person living or dead; or any occurrence in the past, present or future tense is purely coincidental.

Time Warp

I don’t understand why people call TV an idiot box! I mean, everyday technology evolves a new and better state of the art device which gives so much of viewing pleasure…think about it..the journey from CTV to the 3D-LED Screens…that ain’t no journey of an idiot. I guess people who are quite bovine,as to being indecisive about the right viewing material, would still address such a Wonderful Device as an “Idiot Box”. 

I take offence when u call my bud an idiot. From the morning news to afternoon stock market rattles and never-ending streams of movies…and sports telecast…the list is never ending…so the question is how smarter does it have to be to be called… “The Real Thing!”. I don’t care, I love my 42” plasma..and I ain’t hearing no offence against it!

A Sunday afternoon is usually a long period to cover if you are a singleton and most of your dear pals are busy taking their kids to the game or escorting their wives to the seasonal sale riot! The hangover of the last night party has settled and the bloke has left after her morning cup of coffee, that leaves me today with myself..my couch..my beer..and my TV.

Surfing through…I stop at The Discovery Channel, it’s a show called “Time Warp”. Quite interesting.. hi-tech gadgets, high velocity cameras, state of the art sound equipments and a bunch of crazy guys.  The shows about slowing time through technology and seeing everyday occurrences as it happens, in a way that meets more than what meets the eye!!

On a day where u just don’t want the phone to ring, there would invariably be a rally of calls! A peculiar array of “wazzup” , “what plans”, “meet at 8 o’clock” and so on.. will interrupt your peaceful sips at the lager! The phone rang again…

I usually let unknown no’s go to VM, but I just picked it up.

“Hello”…it was a familiar voice, long unheard of..but never  forgotten! The last time I heard from her was in the attorney’s office, where she battled for our separation! Been four years now, and she had moved on…but I have still hopelessly managed to anchor myself to the shores of the deserted island of memories. Yes, there are flings…but nothing to be described as a substantial relation.

 A formal exchange of greetings, and the usual pleasantries of non-harmful- life updates…still no statement answered the question; why was she calling? There was no agenda, I guess it was just a casual “hi-call”!

I was travelling through a time portal; back to happier times…happier Sundays; when afternoons were spent cuddling between the sheets. When, TV was just another way to spice up pillow talks. When, the biggest errand of the day was to brush. When, we loved each other and the world didn’t matter much.

Suddenly the time portal opened up in another dimension! I was traveling the ugliness of the court room drama. My life post separation, the trauma..the rehab! Sleepless nights, alcohol and drug abuse…imaginative scenes of intimacy of my ex-wife and her new lover, ripped me! I ran to escape this sphere…but the time portal had closed! I was helpless, running frantically in search of an exit path!

I fell to the ground hard, covering my ears..closing my eyes, I essayed myself to stop the visualizations! It felt like the piercing of a million sharp venomous needles tearing me apart..i lay on the ground marooned! The pain was unendurable..

And then the cell phone rang again…”Hey mate, u game for a pint at Gordon’s?” ..it was Ryan on the line! I just didn’t realize what was going on!

As Ryan kept talking, I hovered the happenings of her call to realize.. I said,” I Love U”..maybe that’s why she hung up! Or may be her lover had entered the room…or may be!… a few may be’s followed!

As I slipped into my denim and grabbed a jacket for Gordon’s…the thought of the episode hit me!

 Yes, time does travel slow (Let’s not refer to Collision or String or any other related theories!)…and it does make u see things very differently. It’s strange how the mind and the heart fools time; makes u travel in dimensions long faded in years of pain…questions and answers, battle the occurrence..and the lager in the pilsner keeps you upbeat!

PS: Drinking is injurious to health, so is “love”..aaan..Here’s a toast to love! Cheers!