From Mangalore (Karnataka) to Hyderabad (Andhra Pradesh).
A picture is equal to a thousand words, they say. How true it is!
Sun rays gently tap the serene sky as dawn descends. I haven’t slept for one minute the previous night yet I’m brimming with vigour. I think and over think the things I have done, the people I have hurt, unintentionally, or perhaps with bold intentions. I play the events of my life, from childhood to youth, in my mind, over and over again. I want another chance. For everything that I have done is wrong. Nothing feels right, nothing is right either.
I knew what I did was wrong but I did it out of habit. Out of necessity, maybe? Will all those pierced souls forgive me? Not in this world. I have hurt my enemies, my friends, my parents, my peers. Not one person connected to me have been left unhurt. And all along I have hurt myself.
I want to repent for what I have done. Asking for forgiveness is a characteristic of the weak. I am not weak. I have the courage to trample a lion. This is how I am. This is how I have lived. This is me. I ask myself, is there any reason why I should continue when all the humble gentlemen out there wants to vanish me, not giving me another chance to mend my mistakes? Those men with masked gentleness. At least that’s where my plus point lies. I don’t fake around. Playing the role of someone who I’m not. I’m bad. I show it and people know it. No denying it. No backstabbing.
I cry. Fresh tears run down my tear stained face. What do I do? Where do I go? Why am I doing this? I don’t want to face the world. I want to change. If I try to be nice, those nice people will believe this is my another plot to a greater ploy. I’m tired of this lifestyle. I go to the restaurant, to the club, to the garden, to the movies, to the pub, I see a group of people sticking together. There’s this group and that group with none giving me much of a glance.
My brother’s death has given me a blow I have never had before. It has changed me ever since. I was never this evil minded depressed person. A car had hit him and disappeared in the woolly weather. Spectacles gathered around the frozen body that had been lying there for 10 minutes. They oohed and aahed but no decent man considered it wise to call the police or an ambulence. Moreover nobody had seen the car come and to ask if they have noted down the car’s number would be a funny thing to say. If only they would have done something……
A life walked away in silence.
I hate everything and everyone. This being the reason why. I want to have my part of revenge. I want to teach this ugly world a lesson yet I want to show them what humanity really is. I want to take all their lives yet I want to be a better person. But who cares?
I’m toying with my sleeping pills. An overdose would kill me. Yes, I’m aware of that. To hell with it! I will consume all of them. I don’t wanna live in this mysterious world. Let my demise bring smiles on faces. Let darkness creep over with this rising sun. Let death rejoice over its victory.
(Note: this is a work of fiction. Theme and plot adheres to the writers imagination.)
Why create opportunities when patience can do miracles?
How can I be positive when negativity has taken powerful roots, it’s difficult to uproot them?
If I’m ruined I’m ruined, where is the chance I’m getting in disguise?
When everything is going to perish one day,why strive hard and create a name in the world? The world is going to forget and dissolve too.
Why not enjoy the moment doing the craziest thing we like? Let’s be a wayfarer! Tomorrow an earthquake might swallow us all! Who has seen tomorrow?
If everything is meant to be then why do something? Surely if it will happen; it will, why not sit back and relax?
Let’s bend rules for our happy living! Let’s search for a deeper meaning in life than pretending we are happy owing luxuries.
Without a doubt, I cannot answer these gargantuan questions,can you?
Funny how we think we are masters of our own fate and then barges in “karma.”
When actions speak louder than words then why is a pen mightier than a sword?
We have all been hearing the cliche expression, “actions speak louder than words” and are apparently in doldrums when we hear such banal quotes. While I was making running notes in a lecture, this absurd statement crossed my mind, “a pen is mightier than a sword.” A sword is analogous to action and a pen to words. This judgement draws me to a state of confusion and conclusion that words exert more power than actions which blatantly contradicts the former quote.
These contrary expressions are gnawing my brain ever since I thought of them.
So many years have passed; almost seven. Seven years and I’m still counting. Isn’t it the best thing I can do? To count.
I can sense her presence around me but my senses betray me all the time. I’m sure she still think about me and she is with me but will she be with me after this? I do not know and I do not intend to know either. I clearly remember her promising me the future, assuring me she will be with me till the end. What if tomorrow is my end? Will she know about my death? And if she does, will she know the cause of it? I’m being paranoid or maybe I’m over reacting. These thoughts keep prying my mind, frightening my lonely fragile heart that I have surrendered to her as long as I remember.
The first time I saw her was in my school playground with pigtails wagging on her head. To be honest, she never looked attractive in those. Who did, anyway? The time when I had fallen for her when we were incidentally at the same party. The moment I laid my eyes on her was the moment she became my reason to live. That red piece of cloth just above her knees and her brown hair which were in pigtails were now let loose. How could I forget? She looked stunning. I lured her into my friendship and then into my love.
Two thousand five hundred and forty one days have passed. I’m sitting on this unfortunate bench in this peaceful park where the strings attached between two souls were broken. She walked away from me and never turned back. Birds hummed along with the trees and the wind caressed my hair as if trying to show me it’s support.
I had promised her I would be waiting for her however long she took. I did. I visited this place every weekend the way we used to when she was mine. She still is, I hope. I knew it was my mistake but how could someone humane like her take so long to forgive me? Wasn’t I her best asset? I ‘ve tried to contact her ever since, never losing hope for once, but it was to no avail. If she was so stubborn in holding on to her ignorance, then so was I. I had become a recluse keeping myself away from the rest of the world always wishing for a day when she will realize my importance and come back running to me.
Today is not an unusual day yet I feel gauche, something is stirring inside me. The silence looks like the one that before a storm. I see a chubby boy around the age of three playing at a farway distance engaged in his little ball without a care of what’s happening around. He reminds me of someone. Seeing him makes me feel of my own children. It makes me feel happy. He kicks his ball and it lands on my bench. I pick it up and examine it. He comes to me asking me to return his toy. I hand it over to him inquiring, “what’s your name child?” He snatches the ball from me and runs away muttering something in shallow breaths. From what I depicher, it sounds, “Mama said don’t talk to strangers..” He goes to a woman and holds her tightly in an embrace. The lady turns around. I stare in disbelief! The same brown hair. The same arcadian eyes. The same rosy complexion. The same garden. But with a different man. I saw her. She saw me. Our eyes met. Her eyes didn’t reveal the slightest hint of recognition. How could she? Was I so changed after she left? The answers lie within herself. Gathering my thoughts I stood and walked away. The child was right,
“I am a stranger in a strange land.”
Dr.APJ Abdul Kalam started his career as a newspaper vendor ending up becoming the first citizen of India and also it’s eleventh President. His life full of struggle and hard work never makes me stray the path of my dreams. He makes me believe everything is possible if worked for it diligently. An awesome “missile man” with awesome ideas!
“Mumbai, a city springing with life, is the wosrt place on earth for tourists”, observes a TripAdvisor Survey. To the locals taking pride in being a Mumbaikar, I’d say, jump off cloud 9!
Are you confident enough to say that you know this city well? Well, it’s time to put your wisdom at test!
If you haven’t been through these excruciating and enchanting experiences, you haven’t known Mumbai at all.
1) Rain Rain go away, never come again another day!
Needless to say, the monsoon of Mumbai is one of the most popular which has left the city crippled. With water logging, water shedding, leaks in drainage and so much more have kept us struggling with problems too many. For some, it seems pleasing but for most of us it tops the ” getting rid of” list. The place is most unhygenic during this period with stinking garbage consuming more areas of the roads than vehicles can! The streets are so commonly loaded with trash that without it Mumbai would look anything but Mumbai. And if you haven’t waded through the knee deep water of Mumbai, you haven’t known the miraculous city all together!!
2) Vada Pav
The spicy deep fried mashed potato balls bathed in flour and clothed in a soft bun called pav is the city’s favourite recipe. This typical blend of spices which is cheap, hygienic as well as fulfilling is found in every corner of every street of Mumbai. Seems to be a local version of McDonald’s Aloo Tikki burger! Mumbaiyaa Style!
3) Beep! Beep! Beep!
Here, the traffic jams are an astonishing phenomenon. Vehicles never seem to budge in any time of the year. Summers are torturing while monsoons are even more! Drivers spend a hectic day cursing and abusing whoever comes their way. The speedometer hits 10-30km/hr on an average day.
This massive traffic and continual honking has tormented each one of us and will continue to do so.
(A piece of advice would be to carry your knitting set while travelling long distance.)
4) Rail, making me wail!
Mumbai local trains are yet another disaster. You are a very fortunate person if you have the privilege of being seated in the local trains. The rush hours of morning and evening does not even permit to step on board. Mumbaikars possess superhuman qualities of jumping in and out of the train while foreigners beat the brow to figure out the whole local train system. A live example of unity in diversity is displayed in the snapshot above. And while you are travelling in Mumbai local trains, just go with the flow!
5) Beggars (3 din se khaya nahi Sahab!)
There is not a single traffic signal deprived of beggars. You will certainly find them on each pavement changing shifts from time to time. Their working hours are from 9am-9pm and if they are on a night shift the time changes from 9pm-3am. These panhandlers are seen everywhere with a severed hand or a blind eye or a faked limp. Although their income generation in a day is sufficient to feed them for two long days, they are hungry as ever! It becomes difficult to unmask their identity. It has been revealed that luxurious beggars earn 1000-1500 rupees per day accounting to 30,000-45,000 per year. So if you haven’t encountered and pitied a beggar you haven’t known Mumbai all along!
(Note: No content of this article is meant to hurt/degrade/offend anyone. It is purely on the basis of personal observation.)