All he could do was smile.

It felt like a thorn in his neck. It had been hours since he had had water. He looked with contempt at her on the other end of the room. He had been rendered helpless by the continous struggle with his life .. Unable to move a limb – paralysis-struck , he just sat there with a look of apprehension on his sad face. Sometimes, he had suicidal tendencies .. but he couldn’t even commit suicide himself. Amused at the irony of his thoughts, he just let the depression wisp away ..

And like a fresh breeze of air, she turned towards him. For months now, she had been his only human contact, his nurse. It felt nice to see that someone cared for you while you couldn’t. But she wasn’t actually caring. It was just a moribund exercise she went on with to support her family. She wasn’t beautiful either. And she always cribbed about how tough life had been to her. All he could do was smile …

She brought his glass of water. Staring at the ceiling .. he saw her with the corner of his eye .. he felt relieved

And the reflections from the glass fell on his-self – on his life ..

It was niether a glass hall full nor a glass half empty, It was just a very big glass .. !

And he realised that had been the story of life .. just a very big glass

…

The media greeted him .. and she turned towards him with a glass of water .. all he could do was smile.

Today, his book ‘A very big glass’ was being nominated for the booker prize ..

happYness

He felt the need for a smoke .. It was 5 in the morning .. It had been a fitful night .. he felt a little limp on the left. He looked around for water .. there wasn’t any. As he stepped down from his bed, he could feel the damp, squib earth beneath his feet. He headed to the kitchen to get some water. To his dismay, the tap fetched nothing except a slushing sound. He desperately needed a puff .. and some water before that ..

He headed out. It was a strange morning .. he felt choked. A sudden sadness engulfed his entire being .. his dependence on nicotine – his inability to sleep – his skewed thought-process .. the limp on the left side was back. He was estranged in the whole world .. a solitary being with nothing to share .. he felt nothing .. no happiness no gratitude no love .. it was a numb heart ! Selfish .. !

He reached out for the lite .. aaah ! A sudden lightness crept in, he was able to think again

It was then that he saw her … She was standing bare-feet on the road … pained and thoughtful. It was a bare face .. reflecting nothingness. He just kept watching her .. awed by the resilience her face showed. He felt content and free. He went ahead after what seemed like an eternity .. and dropped a one-rupee coin in her hands

As he walked off, away from her, he reflected a thought upon his state … he felt happYness but that was not what he thought of .. what he thought of was .. the selfish base nature of happYness .. the narrow-ness of it ..

The Y-Why of it ! and then he realised why happiness was spelled with an I and not a y .. because it was unreasonable, devoid of why .. it bred on dismay of others and the selfish him … and he felt parasitic all over again !

Agony of Dreams .. !

Ah ! He let out a scream.

He woke up startled. It felt like a cold blow on the spine. He was drenched in sweat .. breathing hard. He groped in the dark for .. He could feel the dark creeping up on him – slowly. He could hear it walk – the screeching scrawling sound on the glass – it felt near , its breath heavy and cold.

He was perplexed by the intensity of his fear. He could not comprehend what it meant. It was so .. so .. different an experience. His hands kept groping in the dark looking for something .. which he could not hold on to .. with his shivering hands. As he reflected again on what he experienced that night .. he grew pensive again. Why he could not tell it ? Why was it so tiring .. so .. he could not even think about it .. What was it ? How was he to know.

He got hold of his walking stick. That had been his only company since he knew he was alive .. the screech of it gave birth to a disgust .. a repugnant feeling to others .. or so he felt. He could not keep his mind away from last night .. it was so dominating an experience … so frightening a thought ! And he got his hands to ..

But I knew it all . It was the First dream of a Born-Blind Man ! The pain of sight .. the agony of dream ..

Just Mohabbat .. !

Chubby Cheeks .. Rosy Lips

Curly Hair .. Very Fair

And we spoke in unison .. she and I.

S ( Name changed ) and I were rickshaw mates. Sitting on the back of a wooden plank of the rickshaw, we sang rhymes .. Frankly I do not remember much of her

But she had flowing light brown hair .. A lovely dimpled smile .. exquisite sky-colored hair-clips and a rosy voice .. And being an innocent little kid that I was .. we became good friends.

We had similar tastes in Books .. the Swar-Sarita , Movies …Tom and Jerry, Food .. Her Mom’s and even color .. Pink. And that is why ( or was why ), on a bright sunny day in school…

S: Hey .. You have good pencil ..

Me : Yeah, chilka bhi nahi toot-ta iska .. and I produced a lovely folded pencil ka chilka .. ( Proud smile on my face )

S: Waah .. Par mere paas jaadu ki pencil hai .. ( and she produced a mechanical pencil from her bag )

Me : ( Impressed ) ohh re.. ( But hiding the humiliation ) Mere paas bhi ghar pe padi hai .. ( Smirking )

And she didn’t agree ..

That day in the evening itself while returning, I pulled her from the rickshaw to show her the pencil .. that wasn’t there. In a bid to save my crumpy lil’ ass, I made a story of having kept it in the bed and having forgotten … IN the meanwhile, the rickshaw waala left ! We pillow-fought till my mom came back and I received the spanking of my life ..

And that is why I didn’t elope ever again !!

( And am probably turning Bi-Curious )