Sunday, August 5, 2012

Chapter Three : Sail away with me honey

Elias knew this was a ploy. She was just saying it. She never loved him, the way he loved her; or so he thought. There was no profoundness in this scheme, they were going to kill her as soon as she got out of here. She had too much red on her ledger.
There was something more to this, they were after the coat. They would burn it for sure, yes. But what was so special about Petrucia's coat?
"Is there something you aren't telling me Viviane?"
"Even if there was, would I show it?," she smirked while she caressed his back a little. He held her too tight for a second, feeling a little too overwhelmed for a second there.
She whispered to him. "This might not be the best time..."
He threw her against the wall. As if he was holding something objectionable and snarled at the thought of her touching him. She placed her hand on her stomach and tried to smoothed the fabric against her body, looking straight at Elias.
"I won't do that again."
"Viviane, you're unbelievable. I am not going to fall for this again. I can't keep fighting this battle in my head. I want to treat you like filth. Because, that's what you've become."
Silence. They looked at each other with a confused expression that was both loving and averse.
"I want to help you Elias. There wont be any strings attached after this. And then we could...," she peered into his eyes. He looked at her once, like a lover... gazing into her honey drop eyes.
"Everybody lies, Viviane. And I hope you're lying to me right now."
"I love your way with words. But, don't forget that there are twelve men watching you right now".
And then he saw it. She was wearing the pendant he had given her.
"It's alright Elias. They can only see you," she smiled.
He smiled back and kissed her full on the mouth. As passionately as ever.

Chapter Two : And all I taught her was, everything.

“Why don’t I make an offer to you Elias? Something with nothing to lose, just lower your gun a little”
Elias knew this was what she was after. But he couldn't help but listen to the proposition. He lowered his gun and pointed towards the exit.
“I want to know why Mascarenas didn't kill me”
“There there, give that old man a break, he steals and cheats but never kills. He’s got no balls.”
Elias let out a big laugh. He wanted to see where the men were stationed while the one woman he didn’t want pointing a gun at him, walked by his side toward the light. He looked around but couldn't see a soul. Binoculars maybe then.
“They want you to hand over Petrucia’s coat. It’s very dear to them and you know how they get when something of theirs is stolen”
“They want to burn the coat with her body?” Elias chuckled.
“Something like that… old debts you see. He had promised her”
“This might have nothing to do with the coat being the only evidence against Danny, now would it?” he smiled at her.
“Of course not honey, it’s just a matter of love. You give them the coat, they give you your life back. Simple?”
“If only."  He raised his hand to her waist, took her gun and pushed her closer to him.
“What have they offered you?”
“Freedom. Sweet luscious freedom.” She laughed heartily and held him tighter while his gun rested near her temples.
“You don’t want to kill me, Elias. I am the only person who has ever loved you."

Chapter One : Black bird singing in the dead of night

Elias shot Mr. Mascarenas just above the knee at point blank range. He screamed through clenched teeth. Mascerenas looked at Elias with an expression of pure disgust. Elias had done the smart thing; he had waited till Mascarenas struggled, gliding his weak body to the corner of the room and splashed his face with hot scalding water. Mascarenas laughed after he felt his ears for the first time.
Elias passed out right after he saw the smirk on his face.
After what seemed like yesterday, he felt a rat tug on his shoes. He woke up in a start of repulsive hatred. Mascarenas was gone and so was the rat. He ruffled his hair in pain and got up to see bright light staring into his eyes. Great, drugged with a tiny needle.
“Hello, Elias," said a sweet voice from the back of his head. He turned and there she was.
“Hullo, my love." She jumped to kiss her lover the one last time.
There is always, always a woman involved, he thought.
“Been stuck here for a long time now, is it?”
“Not really, a couple of hours maybe.”
“Interesting, I met Mascarenas last night... I am guessing you spent the night here.”
There was momentary silence and in a flash both of them had raised their guns at each other. Elias came to sense his surroundings and the stench that came from his beloved.
“Been to the sea have you?” asked Elias with a smile on his face.
“Oh, I am sorry if the stench bothers you. I arrived just yesterday, didn’t have a reason to have a shower first before I came here.”
“Aah, Viviane. You always humor me. Nice way to remember our last together.”
Viviane smirked and began unbuttoning her blouse.
“Seducing me to surrender, are we?”
“Hahah, don’t be foolish, darling. It’s just so hot in here... don’t you think?”
She stood before him, gun still pointed at his head, sweat trickling down her neck.

Tuesday, March 13, 2012

Poems from Nepal

These were some poems I wrote on my trip to Nepal last year.
About nature, ghats of benaras and the kumari of Nepal.

Tap the ash, tap your soul;

Host the sun in between, a poor soul standing on his feet,
Smokes his cigarette and puffs in his sleep,
Wasn’t the river a silent gush of wind?
Watering the parched with the water so deep
Waiting for a boat to float in the morning daze,
It shines and gleams and reflects a person in haze
And questions your purity and mocks your forward-thinking
That you dip your hand and shake the water daily
Hoping it bounces your image for your inkling

The shore is white and the pearls absorb its light
You pick up what’s different
Forgetting that nature needs its elements
 The stars don’t always look bright
It’s because you steal nature in its might

The clarity of the waves, swift threads of algae
Isn’t this what we meditate for;
Isn’t this a fight for our valley?
Remind me if I forget
It was this that made us,
Forests and rivers
Now they seem like purple haze
When we touch them with knives and choppers
Don’t await an intervention
God doesn’t do that chore
Think about what you would mention
When your children won’t find clean rivers anymore.

A ghat affair

Uneven stairs, shining in the night
Dark clouds of moisture
Waiting for a life of delight
But then death peeks from beneath
Scaring the boat to topple a little
Theres screaming and shouting
And a lady faints in disbelief
The boat moves on and so does life
At a distance
You smell the flesh, burnt and dead;
Didn’t you come for here salvation?
Oh wait, sadness will fix your head
The river still flows calmly,
Afterall we pray for its existence,
And its understanding of human waste
Its purity will never be questioned,
 Even when it flows alongside the ghats
With flowers and oil diyas in tow
Our dead welcome them in a row

They mesmerize you at dusk
With seven pujaris and their devotion
Thousands of devotees gathered in musk
Forget what the river was asking for,
The beauty of the lights and the diyas
Trick them into believing a life of before

But the ganga is still calling
She has stopped singing though
There was a time her worship was for her purity
She says,
Now she doesn’t remember how many bodies she lay.

Naked eyes

She stares into your eyes,
For the four seconds she looks at you
You wonder how she feels
With no sadness, no speck of blue

Her life is chained in those doors,
Because some hundred thousand years ago,
They played with the emotions of women
Calling them impure, stealing even their children’s shadow

She doesn’t know how to cook,
How to look, because she was defined with sacrifices
Many many years back,
She is the living goddess,
Chained in her puberty
To later solicit her masses

We look at her with awe, anger,
Disgust, contempt, sadness
But all she returns is a hollow stare
That crushes your hopes
For a dream of her freedom.
I cannot click a picture of the goddess,
They say it isn’t allowed
They sell her postcard to me later,
Selling her soul to the other thousands in the crowd.
I feel very lonely when I look outside
There is no equal, no woman in sight.
Yesterday the radio said
‘come one and all, we have a prime minister of might’
But is this our victory?
When he fears his own life in the dead of the night?

A gentle knock on the door,
Is alarming sometimes,
A fear of life, a fear of this nations plight. 

Saturday, February 18, 2012

Shreds of existence

Live just another day
To bring back thoughts
Of innocence and simplicity
Or the subject of extremity,
With a pinch of actuality.
Lose in the closet or the clouds of cotton,
While the sun stares down too hard
and the kitten disturbs the tranquillity of the lard
Did you know that a world could be woven?
With shreds of forms
That breathe into life everytime you would fall.
The prospects and propositions of a being other than yours
Could be like a child in that monkey cap,
Reading your eyes with a start.

Wednesday, February 15, 2012


This is incredible. To grasp and monitor a world out there. That exists in somebody's mind. A control of an audience so large and comprising.

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.

There were these monkeys I saw in Nepal the other day, very red-chested and red-assed. They were monkeys on war with humans. They disliked us, snatched our bananas (sic), cameras, oranges, cell phones and disappeared into entangled branches up above the world so high.  

Yes, I was in Nepal.

This wasn’t my first trip outside the country. But it was definitely my first trip to another third world country. I do not mean this in a snide or awful way. It’s just how it is. I was accompanying the celebrated Wilson group of students for this trip that included 51 of us Third Year students, three faculty members, a rather disturbing (yet smart and diligent) man called Mr. Baghdadi and Rehaan with his Bon Voyage group of cooks. We were a handful for these people in literal sense. 

I was actually dreading this round about trip for the longest for many reasons. I didn’t know many people in class, I didn’t enjoy all of them very much, I had never been to a ‘Sudhakar IV or trek’ etcetera

And then, I was told by my other half that this was a trip, an opportunity to see, experience things et al and I knew that that was right. I let go of my inhibitions, and I jumped to shop for warm clothes with absolute dispassion. 

We boarded the train from LTT at around lunch time and reached Varanasi the next day in the evening. It was a brilliant ride. I made new friends, found out about train games, excelled unceremoniously at Dumb Charade and understood the simplicity of it all. 

After we reached Benaras (Varanasi), we were called for a session. This is when I realized, I didn’t know what the hell that meant.  I had faintly dreamt about it once, Sudhakar Sir teaching us athletics and I was the last to complete things. (Don’t analyze my dream; I can surely do it myself).

So we went down and Sir gave us handouts, we talked and had a couple of guests talk to us and basically we had a different kind of lecture where questions didn’t have to be very specific. We ‘visited’ Benaras then. I honestly don’t know much about mythology, Hinduism, Buddhism or any such –ism. It has been my lack of interest in the field, BUT this trip changed a lot of those blocks in my head. I saw sculptures, rivers, temples and narrow roads, thousands of people waiting to see one deity in utter darkness, holy unholy waters and bodies being burnt.  It was too much for me to take when I didn’t know the significance and value of it all. My question of ‘Why’ shall be answered only if I know of it (truly advised by Tina Ma’am).
   When we went on the boat ride adjacent to the ghats, I couldn’t bring myself to let go of a very serene feeling. The water was pleasantly cool, the breeze was breathtaking, and the view was spectacular. The Ganga Aarti is as mesmerizing as the cremation ground next to it. The smell of charred body reminds you of darker days and then suddenly gets wiped out by the holiness of it all. It’s a different world. 

When we asked Sir, that why is Benaras called the most beautiful city in the world looking at all the underdevelopment, it was enchanting to know how in love people of Benaras were with their city. Even though they have two medical shops in a wide radius, they have a disc in the expensive hotel. They are confused but honest. 

The following night we entered Nepal. We crossed the border with silent enthusiasm as it was late in the night and everybody was half sleeping. Sonauli was a funny night. We had clean smoke coming out of our mouths, hotels with balcony’s but no bathrooms, random men performing Karate in the dead of the night. Our first Nepal experience.
Kathmandu was a brilliant experience.  Four nights of an IV feeling. People walking into our rooms at four in the night, laughing, playing games, partying our last trip together, Arnesh's session, etcetra etcetra. (I wasn’t a whole part of all of this. I am new, I have my limitations)

In Kathmandu, the Kathmandu University was brilliant. An amazing campus, extremely efficient courses and infrastructure. The feeling of meeting a student from there was different. I felt like a foreigner while talking to Sumati. It was funny, really. The other places we visited had much historic importance that I am not yet clear of.
Like Bhaktapur, a place filled with wooden buildings, art, and temples. Patan, a place of beautiful stone and wood carvings, many more temples, handcrafts etcetera. The SAARC office, although many of them slept in the meeting, it was quite productive. We took our class pictures then. And then the FNJ, it was fun to watch the Chairman dodge all of Dharam and Abhishek’s questions. He was a good man though. Nepal is quite a funny place though, they are still developing. There are many individual buildings of departmental and administrative chores. Monarchy has left them quite shaken; they are still picking up a few broken pieces of freedom. But Nepal is still a beautiful country with lovely people of at least what I saw.

On our way once, we stepped down for a halt near the stretch of Kosi river. I thank Sudhakar Sir for pushing me to climb down. It was breathtaking. Freezing water, clean sand, and Surbhi in the water.  Lumbini was again interesting, historically, being the birthplace of Buddha. On our return, a couple of people fell sick, there was reminiscing, crying, birthdays, SSR talks, Career talks. There was no room for boredom. Always there was something or the other fascinating going on. Class politics, Brian’s dare, Indore food, the list is countless.

 This trip is close to my heart for several reasons. It was amazing to be a part of Sudhakar Sir’s trip firstly. Secondly, I did make a couple of new friends who I wish to stay in touch with, warm fuzzies :) too. Also, I understood why I needed to go, the deeper meaning to traveling, staying away from my reality. It was enlightening with the things I saw, experienced. The friendships that have grown stronger, wider, weaker.  I wouldn’t change a single day.
I normally don’t do this. But I thank everyone who made this trip what it was for me.  

Thursday, September 2, 2010

The young and the restless

The youth. An introduction here is needed. What age group are they from? Are they Literate/ Non-literate? Are they students or young RSS leaders? Do they smoke, don’t they? It’s has been this ‘youths' responsibility to bring change and taste the feel of change since we fought our struggle to be one. What confuses these young sleuths is the understanding of nature and the environment we built around it. Why is the young called, “The young and the restless”, because, they are meant to be young and restless. What makes us infer that they will hold a huge responsibility of bringing change is beyond a lot of us.

This is an introduction that needs deeper justice to its determinants. How democratic, liberal, Left-ist will a teenager be? The figurative implications to these terms may stir some eyeballs but how well do the young understand their application? With minds so frivolous and agile to different things, it's highly unlikely to have a majority who think of bringing social reform in the country. But, yes, there maybe youth organizations going beyond politics. Environment is a very broadly touched topic that stirs the soul of the youth. Social media is full with how much they care, and how child trafficking is bad and joining groups that says, “If 10,000 people join this group, Facebook will remove the group called ‘F**k India’”. What does this imply though? Are we sitting at home and joining groups to not look heartless and let the rest take care of it?

Facebook for that matter is now the youth. It represents them. FB as it is very dearly called has groups for all their moods, likes, dislikes. Every possible gibber, insults, praises, profanity, (s)explicity, love problems, farm game problems is accepted here. Their lives revolve around FB where they make decisions, break-up relationships or get tagged. Although, social media psychology says, that it helps teenagers get talking. They are more open on the internet and that is how our youth will have a voice of its own.

A voice of its own? Are we playing “Let’s see where this goes”? Although some of us are planting trees, writing prolifically, holding discussions over tea stalls, carrying environment campaigns, some of us are also sitting back and wondering what lecture to bunk next morning. It’s a matter of choice to withhold responsibility entitled to the youth, or just maintain mankind. Why, we can’t all be rocket scientists now, can we?