Have you ever jumped off a building just to feel what it's like to fly through the air unassisted and unrestrained?
Of course you haven't; because if you had you wouldn't be alive and reading this.
I have.
Did I survive? No.
Am I in heaven? No (I'm sure they don't have any internet in heaven).
Do I regret jumping? No.
I wasn't trying to commit suicide and for a time it really irritated me to hear people "blame" themselves for my death. It was an insult to my memory. Did they really think I was so weak and so stupid that a cruel world would make me end my own life?
It's no use now, I can't tell them the truth and knowing that they are taking responsibility for actions that I with full understanding committed makes me angry.
But hell wasn't as bad as I had been led to believe. Sure, it was a little hot and crowded, but I had had worse as a citizen of Mumbai. The only thing I didn't like about hell at first was "Heaven Sent". It was a kind of weekly contest in which one person would be selected to be sent to heaven every week.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Saturday, March 07, 2009
Second Prize Winner In The College... Can't Be That Bad
Her Love For The President
It was a dream come true to even step into the place. She knew she must have been dreaming when she actually got a job to work there. It wasn't too glamorous a post. She wasn't a Senator or even an important secretary or assistant. She was the "Official White House Tour Guide". Of course, the title was only fluff and she knew it. She didn't care about the fact that she was probably at the lowest rung of people currently employed by the White House. She only cared about the fact that she got to go to White House every single day.
The fact that she ended up working there was no shock to anyone. Ever since she was a little girl she had talked endlessly about the place and all its different features. She could trace back this obsession for the place to two very connected events. The first was a guided tour of the White House which she went on as part of a school field trip and the second event directly following the visit was a report on the White House. If the tour had not been enough to pique her interest, the information she got from the Internet on the White House left her wide-eyed and open-mouthed.
Things like its origins and purpose were clear to her beforehand, but actually reading the entire history of the White House; from its being burnt down and then reconstructed to the various security measures and the enforcements to the guard the lives of the President as well as all the occupants of the building made her realize that no matter what she became in life, it had to be someone who worked in or was somehow related to work with the White House.
Her first day at work involved an explanation by the exiting tour guide as to how the tour was to be carried out. She outlined the routes and the various things that were absolutely necessary to be shown. It was becoming arduous for her as she already knew the tour route as well as all authorization she had and all the possible emergency procedures. But, she felt that getting on the wrong side of her superior would hardly be a good way to start her first day at work; that she could reserve for later.
All things considered, there was one thing that was very peculiar about her obsession with the White House. It was limited only to the physical building itself and not the Head Of State as one would expect. She had never met the President and had only seen him deliver speeches. He was a great speaker, able to grab and hold the attention of the entire nation as he spoke. But, still she felt like she hardly cared for him. So he could talk, so what? People had tried to convince her otherwise but she still believed that there wasn't much to see.
A month into the job and the excitement still had not worn off. She didn't think it was possible for such a thing to happen. It was organizational perfection as she had never seen it. There was a time for everything and everything done out of time was closely questioned. The place had all the capability of being a well-oiled machine except for one thing. The tour groups that came hardly seemed to share her enthusiasm. They would nonchalantly stroll about with the group, talking amongst themselves and not paying attention to her. Only a few times did she notice a child be excited about what he/she was seeing. Those times took her back to her childhood instantly. She soon realized that her job was not to entertain the many disinterested people, instead her job was to impart knowledge to those few who truly were amazed at the beautiful structure.
She had just finished with one of the tours of the day and was drinking coffee along with a colleague of hers when he suddenly started poking her shoulder and then motioning silently with his eyes to somewhere directly behind her. She turned around and saw that it was none other than the President walking by. Her eyes followed as he moved across the hall. He seemed different than when he was on TV, she thought. He looked somehow more physically toned. His walk was one that exuded confidence with every step and left no one in doubt that he was a figure of authority. As he walked by, flanked by a secretary or two, his face was stern, yet bore a slight hint of a smile. It was a natural and comfortable smile. There was no tension in the face, or in fact in the entire body-language.
When he finally walked out of her sight she realized she had been holding her breath. Her heart was beating a lot faster now and her hands were shivering just a little bit. She could feel her ears heat up due to all the blood rushing to them and even felt the goosebumps that she now had. There was no denying it, she thought, she was in love.
The following few months went by in a breeze of chance sightings and secret bouts of short breath. She was at the same time very happy and extremely miserable. Happy because she had never felt like this for anyone except the White House before, and miserable because she knew that the President was the man she could never get. Apart from the fact that he was the President and she was a mere tour guide there was also his ugly wife that she needed to factor in. The "Wife Problem" was one that she considered solvable. Being quite a decisive girl she had immediately thought of various ways to get First Lady out of the picture. Each new scheme ended up being more daring and ridiculous than the earlier one. Soon enough she had chalked out plans of repeating a "Grassy Knoll" incident and just shoot the smug woman through her very obviously botoxed head. One of the earlier schemes had involved her befriending the President's son who was about as old as her and then convincing to break his parents up. She had got as far as the befriending quite easily to her surprise, but found that this was a man very devoted to his parents (or so he said) and one who would not do anything to cause any problems between them. She had abandoned the cause and started thinking of other things. She still maintained contact with the son though, she never knew when she might need him.
It was now nearly a year since she had joined and she was astonished at how different she was from her old self. Within the short span of a year she had fallen in love with the President of the country and then secretly made plans to try and remove his wife as an obstacle between them. She knew that once the wife was out of the way, he was all hers. Apparently, he liked things just about as organized as she did, but, the wife was sloppy and he found himself picking up after her on more than one occasion. The indignation this piece of information had caused her, knew no bounds. He was the President of the United States! He wasn't supposed to be picking up after a woman who didn't understand what her husband needed. Of course, she thought she herself knew and cared a lot more. She had told no one else of her love or her hatred. She felt it in her best interest to keep it all to herself till the matter was sorted out. Once that happened she could shout it out from the rooftops.
She was a meticulous person in life and was quite sure everything was being done safely under wraps. That was why she was caught off-guard by the phone call she received that night. She had been returning home thinking about various things when her phone rang. The caller-ID displayed a White House number. She hurriedly answered it and was met by silence at the other end.
"Hello? Who is this? Anybody there?"
There was suddenly commotion on the phone; it sounded as if someone was dropping the receiver constantly and then swearing and picking it up again. She couldn't recognize the voice with just that, she would need the person to talk. The commotion suddenly stopped and was now followed by a slow panting sound, she was about to hang-up when a gruff voice cleared its throat and started to talk.
"Is this the White House Tour Guide?"
"Who is this?"
"Who I am is immaterial, what you need to know is that I know all the naughty things that you have been up to."
"What? What are you talking about, I don't understand."
"You understand perfectly well what I'm talking about. If you love your President that much then why hide it. Love is nothing to be afraid of, is it?"
She felt the wind knocked out of her, she could barely stand anymore and sat down on a nearby bench. Once there she tried to breathe, but she couldn't. Her chest suddenly seemed constricted as if someone had tied a rope tightly around it. The phone was still connected the idea of disconnecting it did not even occur to her. She wanted to know what this man knew and how he knew it. She asked him the same in a low and halting voice.
"I know enough to have you jailed for treason. I wonder what kind of sentence plotting against the First Lady will fetch you."
She was feeling light-headed and the world was suddenly spinning a lot more, but she kept as much of her composure as she could salvage.
"How do you know all this?" She knew there was no point in denying it.
"I've been watching you. I've been watching since the day you took this job. From the moment I saw you I knew there was something fishy about you. But, I must say you have surprised me. You certainly are ambitious and beautiful, I might add."
She was now more than ever, scared for her life. Any person with the ability to have watched her for a whole year without her finding out could definitely do a lot more than just watch.
"Wh-Why?" was all she could muster out of herself.
"Why was I watching you?"
"No, why are you calling now? What do you want?"
"Smart girl, as always, straight to the point. What I want is simple, for you at least. I want you eliminate the First Family."
It took her a while to process the statement and even once she had understood it she wasn't sure she had heard correctly.
"You want me to do what to who?"
"Ok, fine I'll make it simpler; I want you to kill the President, his wife and his son and here's how you'll do it."
---
After the phone call had finished her head was still swimming. Whoever this was had planned it out better than her. She couldn't think of anything to do but comply. She had told him she would do it. But, she knew she couldn't; killing the wife and the son would not trouble her much, it was the President she did not want to lay a finger on, not to kill at least.
The first week after the phone call she didn't do anything and just stuck to her Tour Guide job. At the end of that week she got another phone call telling her to do something quick or she would be facing the consequences. The very next day she started putting the plan into action. She started befriending all the guards and getting closer to a particular one. She loathed the flirting she had to do, but she had no choice. The empty cell waiting for her provided endless motivation. Within a month everything was in place.
All was done in time for the circus that the President was a big fan of. The family went to the circus, and so did she. Of course the three people were hardly alone as they were surrounded by secret service officials at all times. She actually had no part in this anymore. The killing was to be done by one of the trapeze artists, she wanted to try and save the President somehow. If she managed to do that she knew she couldn't be put away for treason. The acts all came and went until it was finally time for the trapeze artists. The rope net was set up and the act soon began. It seemed as if the artists were so good that they wouldn't need the net. But, today they would need the net. One of the artists would miss and fall into the net, bounce into the audience area and then land just close enough to perform his final act before shooting himself in the head.
She made her way to the President and tried to get past the Secret Service, but they wouldn't let her. Try as she might they still wouldn't let her see him. That was when he saw the commotion and called to her and told the Secret Service to let her in. But, that did her no good because he thought she just wanted to see the act with him and was paying absolutely no attention to her. She was getting frustrated and scared. What was she to do? Stop the trapeze artist. That was the only way. So, she readied herself and made sure she was directly in the path of the shooter. That was when it happened, the artist fell from the great height and craftfully jumped back out, very close to the entire group. Nobody seemed to pay him any heed as another artist had come up instead of him and the act continued.
He slowly made his way to the group undetected still and drew a pistol out of the back of his tights. It was now or never. She had no choice but to lunge at him. She did so and seemed to tackle quite easily to her surprise. Even as she held him down she saw him shaking violently. That was when she noticed that he was laughing and not shaking. He must have been mad or high on some drugs, she thought. As she stood up she saw a lot of people laughing, even the President. Now she was thoroughly confused. She was about to start confessing when she felt water being squirted on her face. It was the "shooter" holding his water-pistol. Her mind had gone uncomfortably slow and was finding it very hard to understand and process any of this.
"Happy Birthday!!"
That was the shout that echoed throughout the circus.
"I'm sorry, but I had to do it. I couldn't resist." It was the gruff voice from the phone. She turned in its direction and saw the President looking at her with an apologetic face.
This had all been his idea, once he had seen what she was upto he knew jailing her was not the solution, so this entire charade was planned and performed in order to teach her a lesson. It seemed childish but he knew it would work.
Of course, at the end of it all, she didn't love him anymore.
It was a dream come true to even step into the place. She knew she must have been dreaming when she actually got a job to work there. It wasn't too glamorous a post. She wasn't a Senator or even an important secretary or assistant. She was the "Official White House Tour Guide". Of course, the title was only fluff and she knew it. She didn't care about the fact that she was probably at the lowest rung of people currently employed by the White House. She only cared about the fact that she got to go to White House every single day.
The fact that she ended up working there was no shock to anyone. Ever since she was a little girl she had talked endlessly about the place and all its different features. She could trace back this obsession for the place to two very connected events. The first was a guided tour of the White House which she went on as part of a school field trip and the second event directly following the visit was a report on the White House. If the tour had not been enough to pique her interest, the information she got from the Internet on the White House left her wide-eyed and open-mouthed.
Things like its origins and purpose were clear to her beforehand, but actually reading the entire history of the White House; from its being burnt down and then reconstructed to the various security measures and the enforcements to the guard the lives of the President as well as all the occupants of the building made her realize that no matter what she became in life, it had to be someone who worked in or was somehow related to work with the White House.
Her first day at work involved an explanation by the exiting tour guide as to how the tour was to be carried out. She outlined the routes and the various things that were absolutely necessary to be shown. It was becoming arduous for her as she already knew the tour route as well as all authorization she had and all the possible emergency procedures. But, she felt that getting on the wrong side of her superior would hardly be a good way to start her first day at work; that she could reserve for later.
All things considered, there was one thing that was very peculiar about her obsession with the White House. It was limited only to the physical building itself and not the Head Of State as one would expect. She had never met the President and had only seen him deliver speeches. He was a great speaker, able to grab and hold the attention of the entire nation as he spoke. But, still she felt like she hardly cared for him. So he could talk, so what? People had tried to convince her otherwise but she still believed that there wasn't much to see.
A month into the job and the excitement still had not worn off. She didn't think it was possible for such a thing to happen. It was organizational perfection as she had never seen it. There was a time for everything and everything done out of time was closely questioned. The place had all the capability of being a well-oiled machine except for one thing. The tour groups that came hardly seemed to share her enthusiasm. They would nonchalantly stroll about with the group, talking amongst themselves and not paying attention to her. Only a few times did she notice a child be excited about what he/she was seeing. Those times took her back to her childhood instantly. She soon realized that her job was not to entertain the many disinterested people, instead her job was to impart knowledge to those few who truly were amazed at the beautiful structure.
She had just finished with one of the tours of the day and was drinking coffee along with a colleague of hers when he suddenly started poking her shoulder and then motioning silently with his eyes to somewhere directly behind her. She turned around and saw that it was none other than the President walking by. Her eyes followed as he moved across the hall. He seemed different than when he was on TV, she thought. He looked somehow more physically toned. His walk was one that exuded confidence with every step and left no one in doubt that he was a figure of authority. As he walked by, flanked by a secretary or two, his face was stern, yet bore a slight hint of a smile. It was a natural and comfortable smile. There was no tension in the face, or in fact in the entire body-language.
When he finally walked out of her sight she realized she had been holding her breath. Her heart was beating a lot faster now and her hands were shivering just a little bit. She could feel her ears heat up due to all the blood rushing to them and even felt the goosebumps that she now had. There was no denying it, she thought, she was in love.
The following few months went by in a breeze of chance sightings and secret bouts of short breath. She was at the same time very happy and extremely miserable. Happy because she had never felt like this for anyone except the White House before, and miserable because she knew that the President was the man she could never get. Apart from the fact that he was the President and she was a mere tour guide there was also his ugly wife that she needed to factor in. The "Wife Problem" was one that she considered solvable. Being quite a decisive girl she had immediately thought of various ways to get First Lady out of the picture. Each new scheme ended up being more daring and ridiculous than the earlier one. Soon enough she had chalked out plans of repeating a "Grassy Knoll" incident and just shoot the smug woman through her very obviously botoxed head. One of the earlier schemes had involved her befriending the President's son who was about as old as her and then convincing to break his parents up. She had got as far as the befriending quite easily to her surprise, but found that this was a man very devoted to his parents (or so he said) and one who would not do anything to cause any problems between them. She had abandoned the cause and started thinking of other things. She still maintained contact with the son though, she never knew when she might need him.
It was now nearly a year since she had joined and she was astonished at how different she was from her old self. Within the short span of a year she had fallen in love with the President of the country and then secretly made plans to try and remove his wife as an obstacle between them. She knew that once the wife was out of the way, he was all hers. Apparently, he liked things just about as organized as she did, but, the wife was sloppy and he found himself picking up after her on more than one occasion. The indignation this piece of information had caused her, knew no bounds. He was the President of the United States! He wasn't supposed to be picking up after a woman who didn't understand what her husband needed. Of course, she thought she herself knew and cared a lot more. She had told no one else of her love or her hatred. She felt it in her best interest to keep it all to herself till the matter was sorted out. Once that happened she could shout it out from the rooftops.
She was a meticulous person in life and was quite sure everything was being done safely under wraps. That was why she was caught off-guard by the phone call she received that night. She had been returning home thinking about various things when her phone rang. The caller-ID displayed a White House number. She hurriedly answered it and was met by silence at the other end.
"Hello? Who is this? Anybody there?"
There was suddenly commotion on the phone; it sounded as if someone was dropping the receiver constantly and then swearing and picking it up again. She couldn't recognize the voice with just that, she would need the person to talk. The commotion suddenly stopped and was now followed by a slow panting sound, she was about to hang-up when a gruff voice cleared its throat and started to talk.
"Is this the White House Tour Guide?"
"Who is this?"
"Who I am is immaterial, what you need to know is that I know all the naughty things that you have been up to."
"What? What are you talking about, I don't understand."
"You understand perfectly well what I'm talking about. If you love your President that much then why hide it. Love is nothing to be afraid of, is it?"
She felt the wind knocked out of her, she could barely stand anymore and sat down on a nearby bench. Once there she tried to breathe, but she couldn't. Her chest suddenly seemed constricted as if someone had tied a rope tightly around it. The phone was still connected the idea of disconnecting it did not even occur to her. She wanted to know what this man knew and how he knew it. She asked him the same in a low and halting voice.
"I know enough to have you jailed for treason. I wonder what kind of sentence plotting against the First Lady will fetch you."
She was feeling light-headed and the world was suddenly spinning a lot more, but she kept as much of her composure as she could salvage.
"How do you know all this?" She knew there was no point in denying it.
"I've been watching you. I've been watching since the day you took this job. From the moment I saw you I knew there was something fishy about you. But, I must say you have surprised me. You certainly are ambitious and beautiful, I might add."
She was now more than ever, scared for her life. Any person with the ability to have watched her for a whole year without her finding out could definitely do a lot more than just watch.
"Wh-Why?" was all she could muster out of herself.
"Why was I watching you?"
"No, why are you calling now? What do you want?"
"Smart girl, as always, straight to the point. What I want is simple, for you at least. I want you eliminate the First Family."
It took her a while to process the statement and even once she had understood it she wasn't sure she had heard correctly.
"You want me to do what to who?"
"Ok, fine I'll make it simpler; I want you to kill the President, his wife and his son and here's how you'll do it."
---
After the phone call had finished her head was still swimming. Whoever this was had planned it out better than her. She couldn't think of anything to do but comply. She had told him she would do it. But, she knew she couldn't; killing the wife and the son would not trouble her much, it was the President she did not want to lay a finger on, not to kill at least.
The first week after the phone call she didn't do anything and just stuck to her Tour Guide job. At the end of that week she got another phone call telling her to do something quick or she would be facing the consequences. The very next day she started putting the plan into action. She started befriending all the guards and getting closer to a particular one. She loathed the flirting she had to do, but she had no choice. The empty cell waiting for her provided endless motivation. Within a month everything was in place.
All was done in time for the circus that the President was a big fan of. The family went to the circus, and so did she. Of course the three people were hardly alone as they were surrounded by secret service officials at all times. She actually had no part in this anymore. The killing was to be done by one of the trapeze artists, she wanted to try and save the President somehow. If she managed to do that she knew she couldn't be put away for treason. The acts all came and went until it was finally time for the trapeze artists. The rope net was set up and the act soon began. It seemed as if the artists were so good that they wouldn't need the net. But, today they would need the net. One of the artists would miss and fall into the net, bounce into the audience area and then land just close enough to perform his final act before shooting himself in the head.
She made her way to the President and tried to get past the Secret Service, but they wouldn't let her. Try as she might they still wouldn't let her see him. That was when he saw the commotion and called to her and told the Secret Service to let her in. But, that did her no good because he thought she just wanted to see the act with him and was paying absolutely no attention to her. She was getting frustrated and scared. What was she to do? Stop the trapeze artist. That was the only way. So, she readied herself and made sure she was directly in the path of the shooter. That was when it happened, the artist fell from the great height and craftfully jumped back out, very close to the entire group. Nobody seemed to pay him any heed as another artist had come up instead of him and the act continued.
He slowly made his way to the group undetected still and drew a pistol out of the back of his tights. It was now or never. She had no choice but to lunge at him. She did so and seemed to tackle quite easily to her surprise. Even as she held him down she saw him shaking violently. That was when she noticed that he was laughing and not shaking. He must have been mad or high on some drugs, she thought. As she stood up she saw a lot of people laughing, even the President. Now she was thoroughly confused. She was about to start confessing when she felt water being squirted on her face. It was the "shooter" holding his water-pistol. Her mind had gone uncomfortably slow and was finding it very hard to understand and process any of this.
"Happy Birthday!!"
That was the shout that echoed throughout the circus.
"I'm sorry, but I had to do it. I couldn't resist." It was the gruff voice from the phone. She turned in its direction and saw the President looking at her with an apologetic face.
This had all been his idea, once he had seen what she was upto he knew jailing her was not the solution, so this entire charade was planned and performed in order to teach her a lesson. It seemed childish but he knew it would work.
Of course, at the end of it all, she didn't love him anymore.
Tuesday, September 02, 2008
The Would-Be-Bride
Written for Upasana Gala... Idea supplied by Upasana Gala
She didn't know how long she was going to have to sit in front of that fire. The fire that was supposed to signify the God of Fire Himself presiding over the ceremony and bearing witness to it.
Her husband-to-be had not come yet. In fact, he had not been seen the whole day.
She was getting worried. So were both the families. He had last been seen with a good friend the night before. He was leaving with that friend to enjoy "one final night of freedom" (as he jokingly put it). No one knew what time he had come home, or if he had come home at all. The friend was nowhere to be found either.
As time passed, theories as to his whereabouts became more and more gruesome due to which, they were not vocalized as much. The mother of the groom was suffering a nervous breakdown and had at least 4 people tending to her. Not because, she demanded it, instead it was the people who were anxious to occupy their minds with some work or the other, just to keep unwanted thoughts out.
All his favorite haunts were visited, all his friends were contacted even the possibilities of him eloping with someone else had not been left unexplored.
The people closest to the groom were busy trying to find him. The people closest to the bride offered all the resources at their disposal to help find him. Most of the remaining people had left. The few that remained were talking amongst themselves. They talked about the unreliability of 'the younger generation'. They talked of the groom being an alcoholic and how nothing good could come from such a habit. None bothered about keeping their voices low. That would beat the very purpose of the talking.
In all the commotion, the bride sat forgotten. Bedecked in expensive jewelery wrought from the best quality of precious metals, she merely sat; unable to move a muscle. She wasn't crying, she wasn't doing anything. This inactivity, however, could not be mistaken for lethargy. Her mind was racing with a thousand thoughts making their way in and out. She heard every voice in the room, she was waiting for someone to say 'We found him!'.
No one ever did.
---
It is now a year since that day. Today would have been their first wedding anniversary, had he ever made it to the wedding.
Soon after that day his name had been added to the missing persons list, a list which already ran into the tens of thousands.
As she wakes up today, she doesn't know what she should do. She wonders how she is ever going to get through this day. She takes in a deep breath, gets off the bed, completes her morning routine and finally leaves her home as if she was merely leaving to meet with a friend of hers. She nods and smiles in the direction of the guard sitting atop a stool at the entrance of her apartment building. As he holds the door open for her she says 'Thank You!' and smiles and nods in the direction of the guard.
That is the last anyone is going to see of her.
Like her husband, she too seems to have fallen off the face of the earth. It is thought that she might have taken her own life, not being able to cope with the loss of her husband.
This theory is confirmed but only partially. Her family rummages through her room looking for some clue that might tell them where she could be. That is when they find the letter. It is placed in an envelope addressed, very simply, to 'You'.
"Don't look for me, there isn't any point.
Just know that where I am no one can touch me or harm me.
You may not know this, but I killed him.
I know I don't need to tell you who I am talking about, you know it already.
Don't ask me why I did it. I won't tell you. Only know that he knew why he died and he accepted that he deserved to die.
I know I don't need to give you any proof of any kind. You already believe me. But, maybe you need to see him 'One Last Time'? Behind this page are directions that will take you to where his and his friends body is buried. I should warn you that it has been a year, so you might want to take it out cautiously, it is going to raise quite a stink.
I'll leave now."
Behind the page is a neatly drawn map along with detailed directions both pointing to the place where the body of her would-be husband has laid for a year.
She didn't know how long she was going to have to sit in front of that fire. The fire that was supposed to signify the God of Fire Himself presiding over the ceremony and bearing witness to it.
Her husband-to-be had not come yet. In fact, he had not been seen the whole day.
She was getting worried. So were both the families. He had last been seen with a good friend the night before. He was leaving with that friend to enjoy "one final night of freedom" (as he jokingly put it). No one knew what time he had come home, or if he had come home at all. The friend was nowhere to be found either.
As time passed, theories as to his whereabouts became more and more gruesome due to which, they were not vocalized as much. The mother of the groom was suffering a nervous breakdown and had at least 4 people tending to her. Not because, she demanded it, instead it was the people who were anxious to occupy their minds with some work or the other, just to keep unwanted thoughts out.
All his favorite haunts were visited, all his friends were contacted even the possibilities of him eloping with someone else had not been left unexplored.
The people closest to the groom were busy trying to find him. The people closest to the bride offered all the resources at their disposal to help find him. Most of the remaining people had left. The few that remained were talking amongst themselves. They talked about the unreliability of 'the younger generation'. They talked of the groom being an alcoholic and how nothing good could come from such a habit. None bothered about keeping their voices low. That would beat the very purpose of the talking.
In all the commotion, the bride sat forgotten. Bedecked in expensive jewelery wrought from the best quality of precious metals, she merely sat; unable to move a muscle. She wasn't crying, she wasn't doing anything. This inactivity, however, could not be mistaken for lethargy. Her mind was racing with a thousand thoughts making their way in and out. She heard every voice in the room, she was waiting for someone to say 'We found him!'.
No one ever did.
---
It is now a year since that day. Today would have been their first wedding anniversary, had he ever made it to the wedding.
Soon after that day his name had been added to the missing persons list, a list which already ran into the tens of thousands.
As she wakes up today, she doesn't know what she should do. She wonders how she is ever going to get through this day. She takes in a deep breath, gets off the bed, completes her morning routine and finally leaves her home as if she was merely leaving to meet with a friend of hers. She nods and smiles in the direction of the guard sitting atop a stool at the entrance of her apartment building. As he holds the door open for her she says 'Thank You!' and smiles and nods in the direction of the guard.
That is the last anyone is going to see of her.
Like her husband, she too seems to have fallen off the face of the earth. It is thought that she might have taken her own life, not being able to cope with the loss of her husband.
This theory is confirmed but only partially. Her family rummages through her room looking for some clue that might tell them where she could be. That is when they find the letter. It is placed in an envelope addressed, very simply, to 'You'.
"Don't look for me, there isn't any point.
Just know that where I am no one can touch me or harm me.
You may not know this, but I killed him.
I know I don't need to tell you who I am talking about, you know it already.
Don't ask me why I did it. I won't tell you. Only know that he knew why he died and he accepted that he deserved to die.
I know I don't need to give you any proof of any kind. You already believe me. But, maybe you need to see him 'One Last Time'? Behind this page are directions that will take you to where his and his friends body is buried. I should warn you that it has been a year, so you might want to take it out cautiously, it is going to raise quite a stink.
I'll leave now."
Behind the page is a neatly drawn map along with detailed directions both pointing to the place where the body of her would-be husband has laid for a year.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Banter
A couple...
The girl is in italics...
"So this is where you live?"
"Yes, you like it?"
"It's... it's beautiful!"
"Do you really think so, or are you just saying that?"
"I love it, I couldn't have hoped for a better place."
"Now I know you're just saying it for my sake, this place is very nearly a dump."
"A well-cared for dump."
"Yes, that it is."
"Well...?"
"Well what?"
"Are you going show me around? Do I need any 'orientation' or maybe some vaccination?"
"Now that was funny."
"I don't see you laughing?"
"I'm trying very hard to control my laughter. Positively struggling to not let it out."
"Hmmm, in that case, I am going to kiss you before you burst out laughing."
"That seems like a good idea."
"I've always loved how you kiss me."
"Why thank you. I've heard many good things about my technique."
"From whom, your pillows?"
"And the back of my hand."
"And me."
"Oh yes, you too."
"Now before we get carried away, I want to see the full apartment and I want to fix you dinner."
"What are we having?"
"Other than each other, I thought we could have some simple and very sinful chocolate mousse preceded by some heavenly portions of that spaghetti you love so much."
"You're going to kill me with all this sugar and starch, I love it. It's a wonderful way to die."
"Don't die just yet, there's a lot more than that waiting for you after the dinner."
"Interesting, but getting back to your original question, there isn't much to show you in this place. There's my room, I mean, our room, a guest room and the kitchen. Pretty simple isn't it."
"Simple enough. Now you go lie down and get yourself some sleep so I can change into my dutiful housewife costume and cook my man his dinner."
"I doubt I can handle a dutiful wife but I still like the idea of great food after great sleep."
"Sleep then, and you will have the great food waiting for you once you wake up."
"I can't hardly wait, Good night!"
***
"That was faster than expected."
"Good morning Sunshine!"
"Good evening you mean. You hardly slept an hour."
"Really? It felt like a whole night's worth of sleep. I feel like I'm fully rested."
"That's good, that'll make it easier for you to sit down and dig in."
"This food is amazing."
"That's all it is? Just, amazing?"
"I can't think of a better word."
"I can."
"Oh can you now? Please, enlighten me with this superlative description of your own handiwork."
"It's poisoned."
The girl is in italics...
"So this is where you live?"
"Yes, you like it?"
"It's... it's beautiful!"
"Do you really think so, or are you just saying that?"
"I love it, I couldn't have hoped for a better place."
"Now I know you're just saying it for my sake, this place is very nearly a dump."
"A well-cared for dump."
"Yes, that it is."
"Well...?"
"Well what?"
"Are you going show me around? Do I need any 'orientation' or maybe some vaccination?"
"Now that was funny."
"I don't see you laughing?"
"I'm trying very hard to control my laughter. Positively struggling to not let it out."
"Hmmm, in that case, I am going to kiss you before you burst out laughing."
"That seems like a good idea."
"I've always loved how you kiss me."
"Why thank you. I've heard many good things about my technique."
"From whom, your pillows?"
"And the back of my hand."
"And me."
"Oh yes, you too."
"Now before we get carried away, I want to see the full apartment and I want to fix you dinner."
"What are we having?"
"Other than each other, I thought we could have some simple and very sinful chocolate mousse preceded by some heavenly portions of that spaghetti you love so much."
"You're going to kill me with all this sugar and starch, I love it. It's a wonderful way to die."
"Don't die just yet, there's a lot more than that waiting for you after the dinner."
"Interesting, but getting back to your original question, there isn't much to show you in this place. There's my room, I mean, our room, a guest room and the kitchen. Pretty simple isn't it."
"Simple enough. Now you go lie down and get yourself some sleep so I can change into my dutiful housewife costume and cook my man his dinner."
"I doubt I can handle a dutiful wife but I still like the idea of great food after great sleep."
"Sleep then, and you will have the great food waiting for you once you wake up."
"I can't hardly wait, Good night!"
***
"That was faster than expected."
"Good morning Sunshine!"
"Good evening you mean. You hardly slept an hour."
"Really? It felt like a whole night's worth of sleep. I feel like I'm fully rested."
"That's good, that'll make it easier for you to sit down and dig in."
"This food is amazing."
"That's all it is? Just, amazing?"
"I can't think of a better word."
"I can."
"Oh can you now? Please, enlighten me with this superlative description of your own handiwork."
"It's poisoned."
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Tamanna
The bus was stationary, standing directly opposite the bus-stop. From where I was sitting all I could see was her face. It was resting on palms which in turn were resting on her knees, which had been brought close to her mid-rib. She was looking straight ahead but not at anyone in particular. I imagine her name must be something strong, something like Tamanna.
Her forehead was showing lines of worry, I wondered what she was worrying about. Was it work-related, or was someone in her family in trouble? Maybe she had just lost something very important to her...
Her eyes were moist, she had been crying. I didn't know who she was, but I wanted to know what was troubling her. I wanted to share her sorrows, I wanted to let her know that she was not alone.
All of a sudden she started rummaging through her backpack. After a few seconds of frantic searching she quickly extracted her cell-phone, it was ringing. One look at the number instantly brought a smile to her beautiful face. She knew this person and was apparently very glad he/she had called. She answered it and gave a hearty laugh. It brought about an unmistakable change on her face. She looked young and free; no trace of her earlier sorrow was now evident in her face.
I didn't know what forced me to do it, but, I decided at that very instant to find out who she was. I got off the bus and moved toward her slowly. She didn't notice the man coming toward her, I was just another person getting off a bus to catch another one. I was standing next to her, leaning against the bus-stop; trying very hard not to look at her. But, I invariably did look at her; her beauty, her clothes, her bag and also her cell-phone.
The bus had arrived and I found a place a few seats behind her. She took a ticket and brought to my attention the one detail I hadn't thought of; I needed to take a ticket, yet I didn't know where I was headed. An idea struck me; I stood up and my way to where Tamanna was sitting. I glanced down discreetly and tried to see the price of the ticket she had taken, luckily she still held the ticket in her hands. Knowing the price, though, was not enough; I had to know where to actually go. Right then I heard another man nearby purchasing a ticket. I would not have looked had Tamanna not looked up; I tried to see what the ticket price was and sure enough it was the same.
Having safely procured the ticket all I could do was wait for Tamanna to get up. I kept my eyes fixed on the back of her head and impatiently waited. Eventually she got up and so did I. I got off the bus and saw that she had already started walking down a street adjacent to the bus-stop.
Keeping a safe distance I trailed her. I still didn't know what I was doing or what I was going to do once she entered her home. I kept trying to push that little detail out of my head, but it kept coming back to nag me. Could I try and talk to her? I did have a reasonable pretext of beginning conversation, we had both been at the same bus-stop, traveled on the same bus and alighted at the same bus-stop too (the fact that the whole ordeal had been orchestrated by me need not be mentioned). There was only one flaw: I would be expected to have some knowledge about the neighborhood I was in right now, I had none.
I had been thinking so intently thinking that when I now looked around I could no longer see Tamanna. Another scan of the area showed that contrary to losing ground I had made it up and was moving rather closer to her than when I started. Still walking at the same brisk pace I didn't notice the drunken man making his way in the opposite direction drawing ever closer. This resulted in an almighty crash and the man was flung back, his bottle came crashing to the ground and shattered on impact spilling the alcohol.
The fallen man had instantly began flinging curse after curse at me. He seemed to have a problem not just with me but with the rest of my family too. I held out a hand to let the man up, not listening to a word he was shouting; I was scanning the crowd that had now gathered around us for Tamanna. I almost felt like calling out to her, that would have been stupid because she was not supposed to know I was following her and I didn't know her name. The man could hardly stand up on his own two feet but once up and wobbling his demeanor changed from that of boiling rage to one of warm and overwhelming gratitude.
I left him where he stood and ran in the approximate direction of where Tamanna might have gone. I was running because I was looking for her, but I was surprised when I did find her. I hadn't expected to see her ever again. I saw her and noticed that something was wrong. She had seen me!
Her pace had quickened and she kept glancing back at me. I too, had kept moving. I was moving in a state I couldn't describe, my legs were moving without any clear command. I was following her even without wanting to do so anymore. The urge to follow had only been there till she had not noticed me, but now that she had, her whole body had changed. She was stiffly moving forward and as she sped up I broke into a jog. Petrified, she did the same thing.
Looking back on it now, I can't help but feel ashamed. I was responsible for her not noticing that speeding bike. I was the reason she had been flung into the air by the sheer force of the impact. It was because of me that her last words were calls for her mother amidst loud screams of pain. People who had gathered at the spot said she had lost too much blood. That had been her Cause Of Death, but I knew better.
I don't remember much of what I had done after I had seen that happen. I had just stood rooted to the spot watching the ambulance cart her off. I had reached home some time early in the morning of the next day; I had walked home.
It's been a year to her death, but it feels as if I have just come back home after walking all night. I was a coward for not stepping up and helping her or even talking to her before hand, maybe that could have avoided everything. I feel like a much bigger coward now; but I just hope this fall kills me and I may see her again and I may be able to apologize to her... maybe I'll ask her what her name is.
Love,
Raunak.
Her forehead was showing lines of worry, I wondered what she was worrying about. Was it work-related, or was someone in her family in trouble? Maybe she had just lost something very important to her...
Her eyes were moist, she had been crying. I didn't know who she was, but I wanted to know what was troubling her. I wanted to share her sorrows, I wanted to let her know that she was not alone.
All of a sudden she started rummaging through her backpack. After a few seconds of frantic searching she quickly extracted her cell-phone, it was ringing. One look at the number instantly brought a smile to her beautiful face. She knew this person and was apparently very glad he/she had called. She answered it and gave a hearty laugh. It brought about an unmistakable change on her face. She looked young and free; no trace of her earlier sorrow was now evident in her face.
I didn't know what forced me to do it, but, I decided at that very instant to find out who she was. I got off the bus and moved toward her slowly. She didn't notice the man coming toward her, I was just another person getting off a bus to catch another one. I was standing next to her, leaning against the bus-stop; trying very hard not to look at her. But, I invariably did look at her; her beauty, her clothes, her bag and also her cell-phone.
The bus had arrived and I found a place a few seats behind her. She took a ticket and brought to my attention the one detail I hadn't thought of; I needed to take a ticket, yet I didn't know where I was headed. An idea struck me; I stood up and my way to where Tamanna was sitting. I glanced down discreetly and tried to see the price of the ticket she had taken, luckily she still held the ticket in her hands. Knowing the price, though, was not enough; I had to know where to actually go. Right then I heard another man nearby purchasing a ticket. I would not have looked had Tamanna not looked up; I tried to see what the ticket price was and sure enough it was the same.
Having safely procured the ticket all I could do was wait for Tamanna to get up. I kept my eyes fixed on the back of her head and impatiently waited. Eventually she got up and so did I. I got off the bus and saw that she had already started walking down a street adjacent to the bus-stop.
Keeping a safe distance I trailed her. I still didn't know what I was doing or what I was going to do once she entered her home. I kept trying to push that little detail out of my head, but it kept coming back to nag me. Could I try and talk to her? I did have a reasonable pretext of beginning conversation, we had both been at the same bus-stop, traveled on the same bus and alighted at the same bus-stop too (the fact that the whole ordeal had been orchestrated by me need not be mentioned). There was only one flaw: I would be expected to have some knowledge about the neighborhood I was in right now, I had none.
I had been thinking so intently thinking that when I now looked around I could no longer see Tamanna. Another scan of the area showed that contrary to losing ground I had made it up and was moving rather closer to her than when I started. Still walking at the same brisk pace I didn't notice the drunken man making his way in the opposite direction drawing ever closer. This resulted in an almighty crash and the man was flung back, his bottle came crashing to the ground and shattered on impact spilling the alcohol.
The fallen man had instantly began flinging curse after curse at me. He seemed to have a problem not just with me but with the rest of my family too. I held out a hand to let the man up, not listening to a word he was shouting; I was scanning the crowd that had now gathered around us for Tamanna. I almost felt like calling out to her, that would have been stupid because she was not supposed to know I was following her and I didn't know her name. The man could hardly stand up on his own two feet but once up and wobbling his demeanor changed from that of boiling rage to one of warm and overwhelming gratitude.
I left him where he stood and ran in the approximate direction of where Tamanna might have gone. I was running because I was looking for her, but I was surprised when I did find her. I hadn't expected to see her ever again. I saw her and noticed that something was wrong. She had seen me!
Her pace had quickened and she kept glancing back at me. I too, had kept moving. I was moving in a state I couldn't describe, my legs were moving without any clear command. I was following her even without wanting to do so anymore. The urge to follow had only been there till she had not noticed me, but now that she had, her whole body had changed. She was stiffly moving forward and as she sped up I broke into a jog. Petrified, she did the same thing.
Looking back on it now, I can't help but feel ashamed. I was responsible for her not noticing that speeding bike. I was the reason she had been flung into the air by the sheer force of the impact. It was because of me that her last words were calls for her mother amidst loud screams of pain. People who had gathered at the spot said she had lost too much blood. That had been her Cause Of Death, but I knew better.
I don't remember much of what I had done after I had seen that happen. I had just stood rooted to the spot watching the ambulance cart her off. I had reached home some time early in the morning of the next day; I had walked home.
It's been a year to her death, but it feels as if I have just come back home after walking all night. I was a coward for not stepping up and helping her or even talking to her before hand, maybe that could have avoided everything. I feel like a much bigger coward now; but I just hope this fall kills me and I may see her again and I may be able to apologize to her... maybe I'll ask her what her name is.
Love,
Raunak.
Friday, November 30, 2007
Seeing her
He was sitting at his desk looking at everybody walk in and talk to each other. Some moved to the coffee machine while some decided to visit the restrooms. By the time everyone was in, he had sorted through all his papers and was just idling at his station staring at a ladybug trying to make her way up to his desk. Once on top the bug made a beeline for the wall, he picked up the newspaper, rolled it up and was about to strike when he heard it. The voice was one he had remembered like the back of his hand. It brought the memories of Natasha flooding back and for a fleeting second he had a smile on his face. The smile vanished as soon as rational thought took over. He knew there was no way this was Natasha; thinking like that was only inviting more sadness. He kept staring at the wall straining to hear the voice, but couldn’t hear it anymore. He was about to get up and make sure no one was there when he heard her laughter. There was no doubting it, it was much closer than before and her voice was clear and loud, exactly as he remembered it. He stood up, and looked around. Where was she? Had nobody else heard her voice? None of the people in the office seemed to be bothered about the laughter which, incidentally, had now stopped again.
“Did you hear that?” He asked frantically to the man sitting in the cubicle adjacent to his.
“Hear what?”
“The laughter, that loud laughter! Did you not hear it?”
“I did, but what about it?”
Aditya didn’t know what to say to this. He didn’t know what to do now. He stepped out of the cubicle and went around the office looking for the source of the laughter. A second later he heard the laughter, it left no doubt in his mind that it was Natasha’s voice, he turned in the direction of the voice and there she was.
She looked as beautiful as ever. Though it had only been a month since he had seen her it felt like he had missed for ages, seeing her now quenched his thirst for her at once. Aditya’s heart was beating hard for the first time in a month and he felt it. He smiled at the sight of her, just because he knew how happy she made him. He almost called out her name, but didn’t know if he should. She had come back, but not to him, no, she had come back to the office and he had to understand that. Not once had he mentioned to her how he had felt about her, he didn’t think it was necessary.
“Our love doesn’t need to be proclaimed, it has to be felt and we both feel it” He had thought like this only until he had lost her, only then had he realized what a blunder that had been.
All this time he had stood rooted to the spot just staring at her, Natasha now looked up and saw him standing there. She smiled and made his way to him. Aditya was so lost in thought that he didn’t realize till she reached very close to him. Her touch brought him back to earth with a resounding thud.
“How have you been?” She asked still smiling at the expression on his face.
“I love you,” he blurted out without thinking, eliciting a lovely laugh from her, “I mean, I’ve been doing alright, how about you?”
“Well, I’ve not been bad myself and, by the way, I love you too.”
At those words his whole body went weak. He loved her and she loved him, there was nothing left to do. The ringing of a telephone suddenly reminded of the face that they were standing in the middle of the office and everybody was trying to avoid their eyes, some were even smiling. He felt a surge of warmth run through his body.
“Let’s get to somewhere a little more private.”
She laughed again and said, “Yes, let’s.”
“Did you hear that?” He asked frantically to the man sitting in the cubicle adjacent to his.
“Hear what?”
“The laughter, that loud laughter! Did you not hear it?”
“I did, but what about it?”
Aditya didn’t know what to say to this. He didn’t know what to do now. He stepped out of the cubicle and went around the office looking for the source of the laughter. A second later he heard the laughter, it left no doubt in his mind that it was Natasha’s voice, he turned in the direction of the voice and there she was.
She looked as beautiful as ever. Though it had only been a month since he had seen her it felt like he had missed for ages, seeing her now quenched his thirst for her at once. Aditya’s heart was beating hard for the first time in a month and he felt it. He smiled at the sight of her, just because he knew how happy she made him. He almost called out her name, but didn’t know if he should. She had come back, but not to him, no, she had come back to the office and he had to understand that. Not once had he mentioned to her how he had felt about her, he didn’t think it was necessary.
“Our love doesn’t need to be proclaimed, it has to be felt and we both feel it” He had thought like this only until he had lost her, only then had he realized what a blunder that had been.
All this time he had stood rooted to the spot just staring at her, Natasha now looked up and saw him standing there. She smiled and made his way to him. Aditya was so lost in thought that he didn’t realize till she reached very close to him. Her touch brought him back to earth with a resounding thud.
“How have you been?” She asked still smiling at the expression on his face.
“I love you,” he blurted out without thinking, eliciting a lovely laugh from her, “I mean, I’ve been doing alright, how about you?”
“Well, I’ve not been bad myself and, by the way, I love you too.”
At those words his whole body went weak. He loved her and she loved him, there was nothing left to do. The ringing of a telephone suddenly reminded of the face that they were standing in the middle of the office and everybody was trying to avoid their eyes, some were even smiling. He felt a surge of warmth run through his body.
“Let’s get to somewhere a little more private.”
She laughed again and said, “Yes, let’s.”
Saturday, November 24, 2007
I haven't read this, I've just written it...
Not once did he look behind...
He didn't care about what he was leaving. He didn't want to care anymore. What was really ironic was the fact that his own thoughts were not under his control. He did care about everything. Over the years he had become so adept at hiding his thoughts and feelings from those round him, that the line between others and himself seemed to have faded. The conflicts raging on his mind, were fueled by the words of so many people who had tried to help him.
The decision had not really been made by him; things just happened. He had done things without thinking and knew that those deeds could never be undone. What had looked like the best, no, the only solution to his problems felt like it had been one of the worst decisions of his short life.
My life. I don't know about everybody else, but to me, my life feels so burdened. It feels like in the span of a few ears I have undergone a tremendous amount of change, yet it can not be anything compared to the lives of the people who have t much worse than this. To each his own, indeed.
A happy man can have the ability to turn even the largest of setbacks into a source of joy and maintain his happiness, without losing sight of the pain and anguish the people closest to his heart may be suffering. An unhappy man will refuse to see the joy in even the most festive of occasions. He is a man who will blind himself, knowingly or unknowingly, to the love he is given by all that are around him and in the process, not love them in return.
He didn't care about what he was leaving. He didn't want to care anymore. What was really ironic was the fact that his own thoughts were not under his control. He did care about everything. Over the years he had become so adept at hiding his thoughts and feelings from those round him, that the line between others and himself seemed to have faded. The conflicts raging on his mind, were fueled by the words of so many people who had tried to help him.
The decision had not really been made by him; things just happened. He had done things without thinking and knew that those deeds could never be undone. What had looked like the best, no, the only solution to his problems felt like it had been one of the worst decisions of his short life.
My life. I don't know about everybody else, but to me, my life feels so burdened. It feels like in the span of a few ears I have undergone a tremendous amount of change, yet it can not be anything compared to the lives of the people who have t much worse than this. To each his own, indeed.
A happy man can have the ability to turn even the largest of setbacks into a source of joy and maintain his happiness, without losing sight of the pain and anguish the people closest to his heart may be suffering. An unhappy man will refuse to see the joy in even the most festive of occasions. He is a man who will blind himself, knowingly or unknowingly, to the love he is given by all that are around him and in the process, not love them in return.
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