This Day That Year

A drop of sweat trickled down his cheek. His heart was beating against his chest just short of bursting out.
“What were you doing?”
“Nothing Ma’am. I was listen..”
She cut him short with a snap of her hand.
“Show me your copy.”
“It’s nothing ma’am. Nothing.”
“Then, why don’t you show it to me.”
She snatched it out of his hand. The drop on his cheek felt heavy, slowly itching its way down. He swallowed deep. What would have been a dream, his masterpiece .. would be a nightmare now. He could almost feel the thudd of her hand against his cheek. Under the heavy glass, his eyes were moist, an inch from crying. A slap, a note to home, another slap and bouts of lecture on how “these” things would take your life nowhere. In a flash, it all happened in front of his eyes. She held the page in her hand .. pondering over it, like a leopard about to tear its prey down. His heart was in his mouth now ..

“And the topic of today’s Science class is Heart.”

He felt relieved. It was like a free-fall, thoughtless and exhilarating. The sketch lay on his desk, unscathed. He looked across the class at her.

Life was beautiful again.
* The sketch used is courtesy Srishti ‘07.

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 ..

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 )

Que Sera Sera

My eyes were fiery red. Burning like coal against a white backdrop. And a deep groan, a rumble filled the silence of the room with a humm that fell like dead weight on tired ears. For a four year old, I took the heart-break pretty well ..

“with swollen eyes

not yelps and cries”

That was all my vocabulary permitted at that time. And as I swallowed the lump in my throat, I reflected upon the day I first saw her.

My first day at school – I was all worried and heavy-headed, not knowing what it will be like .. untill I saw her and the calm descended upon me. I cannot really say it was love at first sight , In fact I didnot know any such thing till two three years after that.

“Maine to Sunita madam se hi shaadi karni hai”

“Ha ha ha .. Hat oye pagal hai tu to bilkul”

“Isme pagal ki kya baat hai”

“Oye, she will be old ..”

“Yes Rohit, I am too old for you” Smiling ..heavenly !!

“No, you not old … ” Wailing and crying

“And I am your teacher too. Who will teach English then, if I marry you”

And I resorted to whims when Logic and Words failed.

As everyone tried to convince me at the Parents Teacher Meeting including the angel herself, I was far from convinced. I even tried a Amitabh Bachan-Ajooba-Styled stunt to impress .. but the height was a concern and I failed – not miserably though for I did get to her lap ..

Time passed like anything with her and I was loving school. But like all good things in life, it too passed. And then one day, she came all attired in a new Saari, with hair flowered and scented looking a fresh pour from the heaven. Dumbstruck, I asked her

“Good Morning Ma’am”

“Good Morning Rohit”

“Why are you dressing so goodly today ?” – Given that she taught us english, it was another of my ways of woo her.

“He he .. I got married, Today is my last day at school”

And that was when words deserted me and all I could do was mumble .. unlike my icon AB-Ajooba fame. That was when I learned my first lesson of life ..

Que Sera Sera – Whatever Will Be, Will Be !

Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
The future’s not ours, to see
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be.

And that is the moral of the story

First Love

And I turned back to find her gone..

Nothing grieves more deeply than one half of a great love that isn’t meant to be.
- This Year That Diwali

Let me take time a few years back – Rohit – a little boy of ten. It was the evening before Diwali, And I was dressed in full pomp and show for the festivities of the night, enthralled about buying crackers with my own money as it was called. But, It was not to be.Standing in front on the scooter, the breeze blowing away my newly starched white kurta-payjama, pockets stuffed with two hundred and seventy three rupees saved through the year, I was joyed by the idea of crackers. As we were nearing the factory outlet ( where it was cheaper to buy crackers) , my heart already brimming with self elation was just short of exploding. And with a screech of the brakes, we reached the factory. While dad was talking to the owner-adding to my irritation-I saw inside the factory.

And there she was – about my age – wearing a soot-blackened gown carrying the crackers on her head. I felt a sense of disgust at her, growing by the second as she came nearer. Her eyes were rooted to the ground and she seemed deeply engrossed. As she came towards me, I felt a revulsion, a deep … and then she stumbled over a stone and fell down. I just stood there. It was not a fall of seconds, It engulfed an ocean of time. I felt an endless fall into oblivion. It was as if I had been paralyzed into the scene. And she looked up towards me..those eyes, It was as if I could feel them. Stoned by a day’s work, empty, thoughtless eyes. And then a fear, the fear of guilt rose in me. And she seemed to fall into eternity and so did I. And when I could not look into those eyes, I just turned away towards the soothing

silhouette of my father. The fall evoked a shrill cry from uncle at the factory. Resentment in his eyes, he turned towards the workshop. I just stood there, thoughtless. She was not there. We had the crackers and left. But those eyes remained with me..and remained a feeling, perhaps the first sprouts of l….I just deep stuffed those two hundred and seventy three rupees into my pocket. The next day I enveloped those and kept them away..

Those eyes have been with me all these years and are still with me. And this year, I was there with my young cousin and I heard the thudd again. But this time also, I just looked away.
Perhaps, I am more practical now.
Perhaps, I am mature enough to realize.
Perhaps, I am …
Who am I fooling, I just don’t have the strength, the courage. I just don’t .

A day in IITR

The reflection is the stare ..
The mirror leaves me bare .. 4:50 AM
I am standing in the front of the bathroom mirror on the second floor of Govind Bhawan, a residential hostel for students, and then …

Today had been as uneventful as any other day in the sub-average life that I have been leading for more than twenty years now. But now as i reflect upon ..
….6:30AM
The slight slit in my room’s sole window lets a beam of sunlight in .. cribbing about it .. forced to get up at a time only dogs and watchmen and nerds and fitness freaks and gaming freakos( that a lot, even I am amazed ) are awake .. I blast it back and look around for the chaddar to block the fuckin’ …
….7:00AM
The water starts filling in me, I am choking, I cannot swim, I do not think this is the end – I know it is …
Shit, the whhhish of the news paper slipped under the room, I want to know what happens next in the dream. God, I am un-subscribing the newspaper first thing tomorrow.
Back to sleep .. And .. Sheah no beautiful baywatch babes for me .. I just die in the dream too.
….7:30AM
Thud.Thuddd..Thudddd. Ohh.. what
And a voice reminding me that I have no right to a night’s sleep with classes to attend and submissions to make.
I accept the truth and scratching my head, get up to the bathroom which is already brimming with the olfactory pleasures and the visual delights to wake you out of your painful slumber. Slowly chewing my toothbrush on the shared washbasin, oblivious to the time I stand thinking nothing .. nothing at all. It’s like a cerebral vacation most mornings for me…anyways back to the room, I am tempted by the towel and the soap case to go for the bath, but the watch completes the dilemma and I again decide against the long awaited bath. Stuffing my bag with the bare essentials of class – a newspaper, a novel, a pen and some half filled sheets. I run to break-fast at the mess – the most aptly named building I have witnessed. Pushing down the throat a few pieces of bread moistened partially by the saliva and partially by the milk, I leave for the department…
….8:00AM
Classes … Classes … Reading ….Classes … more classes … ticking clocks … still more classes
….1:00PM
Yeah, Classes end. for a while though, but the hour long break is beloved..and even the mess food.
….2:00PM
Classes … Classes … Reading ….Classes … more classes … ticking clocks … still more classes
….6:00PM
Canteen samosa chola fills my appetite and a coke thrust upon it induces a desire to doze off there .. out in the garden itself. But I muster the strength to go to my room. Sleep follows shortly after chit-chat on the net and some worthless reading.
….8:50PM
Thudd..’Mess chalne hai kya.?’Goodness, I do not want to miss my sweet dish..running off frantically I reach the mess and after some gobbling down the food, The Dish is there. Pleasure, even for a second is desired. In fact, true pleasure deserves only a second and no more.
….2:00AM
After a movie, name cannot be discussed here, neither the contents, mid night snack and bakar, I am back to the room. Orkutting and internetting are to follow. Accompanied with some Counter Strike – Which i sadly can only spectate – ., some cribbing about this and that and some shantaram – the novel am reading these days A look at the watch suggests 4:30 AM. Realising that everyday is the same…I go for a relieve to the bathroom – fondly referred to in our parts as hagga…

….4:48AM
Standing in front of the mirror, Disgruntled with yet another day of my wasted life..ohh what is it in the mirror. The reflection .. Is this life reflecting on me with the wings spread out or the apparitions .. have i all say- gone mad.I can sense some movement..the face is not there..a faceless beast about to attack me from the behind..what .. huh who … and the power cut .. godsend !! I knew it today was going to be different . See, now whats happening . Arse , This is not the time to reflect upon your life and say fancy one liners about it. turn around and run. Quick you moron…its coming towards you .. It’s ….

The dreaded pigeon flies off … leaving me with the truth .

My life is ordinary