The call went for an hour. And after it concluded, he was shocked and awestruck. Contemplating it for sometime, he became self critical. Didn’t he also fantasized about her? She had a curvy figure that made many people dumbfounded. And being her friend, he had a chance to explore her more often. He was not pretentious when he showed that he had pure thoughts, but owing to the moments that suppresses the logical whereabouts and get into the voluptuousness of physical attributes, his imagination flourished. He has to make himself a confession out of neccessity that demanded answer for his treachery afterwards. He felt an immediate urge to call her back and confess his sin. That he has same thoughts that were expressed aloud by other friend of hers. Only difference, he never spoke it out. Without that action he felt helpless and sinful.
But on his defense, those thoughts were momentary and never impacted his behavior towards her, being it face to face interaction or over the call. He never crossed his line and remained a good listener. And as he thought, she would be proud of her perfect body and it ought to get that attention of her followers and thoughts in her followers’ minds. Moreover, he never approached her sexually. Nonetheless there was no harm done to anyone by his thoughts. He kept those to himself. So, he averted calling her back, after thinking more on such line. It is better that everyone keep such thoughts to themselves, he thought.
The news spread like a wild fire. He was found burnt in his separate room. The weird thing was, he was discovered in a sitting posture. What would have happened to him, was the question popped into everyone’s mind. There was no sign of struggle in the room. He looked calm and composed, even in that dreary condition. Rumours rose from every nook and corner. Some said he had super powers to transcend and send his spirit to help the needy. And during such feat, his body got fire due to the burning of joss stick. Without spirit the body is dead. Some suspected a fishy business, and were skeptical about a conspiracy of his murder by making him unconscious. But they didn’t figured out the motive of the murder. My personal thoughts over the incident relied more on the fulcrum that supported the initial findings but ignoring the super power thing. This was based on the meeting I had with him.
Jai Singh was my grandfather’s friend. No doubt he had spiritual aroma around him. Dressed in white, he had a saintly outlook. He was free from all ills and evils. The old phase was passing in reading the holy scripture. Sharing and discussing religious thoughts with the old and the young, became his pastime. He used to meditate for long hours in his room. But to which degree he practiced it and achieved some enlightenment, was a mystery. Did he really transcended beyond the level of a human capability? Or is human has that immense potential to open the doors for such a feat? No clear or solid answer came regarding his causes of death. It remained and will remain an unsolved puzzle.
4th Nov ’97, twenty years back, outside the Safadarjang Hospital in Delhi, a matador was standing as still as a dead body lying inside, the body wrapped in grey and white blanket. Outside there was a rush of relatives, that was sorrounding a woman who was sobbing and crying uncontrollabely. He arrived there later, and was unknown of the fact that he has lost his father. Two hours back on that day, he was asked to get ready to go to the hospital. He searched his black school shoes in his relative’s home in Malviya Nagar and sat in the car. Along the way, he thought “Why they are going back to their native?”. “Is his father’s health recovered?”. The worst case scenario never passed his mind until he reached there. The matador started its 7 hours long journey. He recollected, the ambassador car that drove his sick father, and them to the dreadful hospital on Diwali day of 30th Oct ’97. His father went in coma right after he was operated in the godforsaken OPD. His father was alcoholic and the liver grew weaker over the time and gave up eventually.
After reaching home, the hue and cries started. He went inside his grandpa’s room and slept. Never came out of it, but was listening to the turmoil inside and outside. He never cried and didn’t bid last farewell to his father. He remembered the sick lady lying on the opposite bed in the OPD, whose son use to pray to Goddess Laxmi’s photo attached on the hospital’s wall. The whole scene of that OPD recreated itself in front of his eyes. He remembered the rude nurses who treated patients as animals. The following days remained sorrowful and upsetting with occassional cries on the arrival of the relatives from the far flung Rajasthan, Orissa and Madhya Pradesh towns. He remained absent from school, to which, his teachers led by Principal Mrs Dashmana came one day to visit and offered condolences. When he went back to the school after a long time, his close friend Parvesh Joshi, in his utter innocense, suggested that might be his father was not dead but just lying down. He listened, as he didn’t have words. The quietness prevailed thereafter. The careless nature turned into careful personality. The calm and composure withstood carrying the evergreen volcano inside that erupted every single day.
After the events of Nov ’97, the trauma built up inside. The whole family was in sorrow and the sad darkness was enthralling. The repercussion of it were to be seen in the later months, when he started checking the locks of the house repetitively to quench his compulsion that stated that he is insecure. He started mumbling a special customized prayer cum ritual every night before sleeping that took almost half an hour of his time. He was worried about the safety of his other family members when he lost one in the event of Nov ’97. His careless nature that was present earlier, vanished somewhere down the road. He was careful now and didn’t believe in taking risks. His obligations and responsibilities haunted him so much that he was in the grip of Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder.
His prayers were the product of the statement that “God giveth and God taketh away”, which was outspoken by the weaker society. He feared him, when it, in fact wasn’t existent. He surrendered himself, and thought the things are happening out of his own control but only because of the puppet master. The OCD was everywhere, being it putting documents in the envelope and checking it again and again, or reading the email hundred times before pressing “Send”. His mind was so worked out that, before even going to some place, tens of scenarios were rerun in his mind including worst case ones. His confidence, being under the watch of God, was crushed. Before speaking, he rehearsed the statements hundred times in his mind and still stammered at the final take. It gradually reduced but still palpable.
The beautiful long hair of yours cannot be matched with anyone. First time meeting you in the food court, through a friend was a delight. Munching lunch alone, that day took me off guard after having a very brief meet up. I chased you after that and indeed caught you just when you were about to enter your office building. The discussion was gratifying while having the ingredient of being a introductory one. The interactions happened as the days passed. The chats, the talks gave a sign of satisfaction and a feeling of finding the perfect match. The attraction grew like a vine plant. The world was contented with a hope. A hope of meeting you, conversing with you the things sorrounding us. Sometime looked you from far in the premises with your friends. Your hair looked out of this world, setting you apart in the crowd. Those moments are worth cherishing.
You are far away, like a distant star. Your worth is ever increasing with the passing days. The last time you met, had teary eyes. A tiny girl with a big volume of black gold looked like a fairy tale. A tale of surpassing beauty, of love, of innocense. Nothing can match those hair as I said. Those long hair is what I see and feel. Is what I see and feel.
The day I stepped my foot here in Bangalore (IT City), was not aware that will spend 3+ years, that too 2500 km away from my native. The plan was to get a transfer to New Delhi that stands 250 km away from home sweet home. But the fate had different plans. Came for tranining after getting selected in a MNC. And then got a project here itself. The initial days were a struggle with everything – new city, new culture, work, new people. Being an introvert, had less friends. The friend who was there in training, went to different project after completion. The time spent like that, meeting people, getting befriended and then losing them to either their relocation to other companies or other projects. Met different types of people some made a special place in my life and some taught me a lesson. The work was in the epicentre of my life. It only gave various opportunities in different aspects of life – being it new technologies, new work and meeting new faces.
Thus life here gave exposure to the previousely untouched milestones. And many things were achieved like – confidence, knowing my capabilities, friendships, appreciations, defeats, loss, win, etc. The self discovery on this new path, gave rise to better understanding of self. Finally while going away of it, the emotions are overwhelming, the nostalgia is in the air. The few friends that I have earned, parting away from them, undoubtedly is a torn apart feeling. But this is life. Nothing is permanent, I feel, is how to summarise it better. Will surely miss the weather, the beautiful sky, the greenery, the places and finally those few valuable friends.
Good luck to the humans of Bangalore and to the city.
“Time has come to say goodbye, say goodbye,
Hearts are heavy and they sigh, they sigh”.
It is really that hard to say goodbyes. That feeling itself, gives an agony to the loins. Fills the heart with the immense ocean of sadness. But being mature, Simr pretends, that nothing moved, it is all calm outside but the inside the agony is same as he felt when he was a kid. He remembers, bidding goodbye to his uncle and aunt that day, but didn’t find his cousin, as she rushed inside home when noone noticed. That is kind of fear of goodbyes. The feeling tears you apart and it doesn’t matter if you are mature or a kid. Only difference is, as an adult you have to move on.
Bidding farewell to the collegue, that day, again instantiated that feeling. The thing is, this looks like a cycle that repeats frequently. The goodbye situation triggers engrams, the traces of same old traumas that freshen up those old wounds. The old cuts are open again and exposed to the merciless and powerful time, which is playing us. Same instance reminds all the old memories from the school, college, family. So, it is just temporary pleasurable moments and permanent drifts that we face in our life. So, the pain can be seen in the beautiful lines below.
“Adieu, Adieu my fried, Adieu, Adieu, Adieu,
We can no longer stay with you, stay with you”.
She was slow, as can be seen from her driving speed that showed consistency at 20km /hr at any circumstances, while going to school. Her voice was so thin that once reading the story of poor Mrs Hereira from the textbook, it looked like she would start crying. She was not weak but very sensitive and felt the emotions strongly and affectionately. Her strength could be seen when she beautifully showcased her feeling, feeling of love to the lucky guy. It was clear and strong but the receiving end was dumb enough to ignore it. And the luck was not ready to plummet, and provided more opportunities and chances for the two souls to get together. But as fate had it, it all went in vain. The beautiful girl owing to her nominal pace gave fair chance to him. But the guy owing to his own obligations and rationality, ignored, ignored and ignored. And till the time, this late bloomer, analysed the things, it was already very late. Still the girl had feelings for him for 3 more years after they moved out of school.
During that time the guy tried to talk her out, but failed miserably. He didn’t have the art to woo a girl. And one day, when he tried to move a step forward, came crashing down in the conversation. A girl that can love somebody so passionately, can hate him, too with same intensity. And the reason of hate was valid and legitimate. She mentioned, “Her second love is more fruitful than the one sided first love”. The curse, was so strong that the effect is omnipresent. The curse, that he got while not obliging to the true value of the true love.
The plan was clear by the school principal Mrs. Gilmore. The plan to take the new class twelth science students to the Science exhibition at St. Sherman school. Simr was all set but after the assembly, was taken out of the queue on the instructions of strict Mrs Gilmore. He was not in a proper uniform, the vest was missing. Through the white school shirt, it was very much evident. It was embarrassing, that the crime was announced aloud. But he was shortly joined by two more of his classmates, Regan and Vaizan, for some or the other reasons related to the uniform mishap. Regan was as close to him as the proximity between their homes. All three were waiting patiently for the next instructions, standing on the wide assembly area. The sermon came, they had to pack their bags and need to leave for the day to their homes. The punishment intended them to miss the exhibition. And they accepted that fact. Following each other, they went into the classroom, disturbing the sanctity of the educational environment, looked upon with the revulting eyes of the fellows.
They were guided to the exit gate by the computer teacher. And were left on their own thereafter. They were still shocked but digged on the lunchbox of Vaizan to enjoy noodles. They wandered for some time all through Curzon road before bidding goodbye while divulging their ways to respective homes. Simr slept for a while and after waking up decided to get textbooks for the new session, that started already. He bought the books and in a sheer coincidence, met his classmate Miss P, who also enjoyed the title of being his secret crush. To make things awkward, Simr was spellbound and left the place quickly. While going back he just took a look at her, she was standing by a two wheeler, smile on her lips and curly hair falling on one side of her face. Her rosy cheeks, proliferating beautiful radiance into his dull life.
He was lost in love. His one-sided love. Whoever looking into his case would say “he is a coward”. But really it was the fear of rejection that haunted him. And moreover he was happy and contented with his love. Looking at her was enough for his heart to race uncontrollably. In the school premises, he contained within him the secret of liking her so well that his closest peers were clueless. But then the fight happened and cards were revealed. The story that started from January reached the ugliest month of September. This month has troubled him a lot in the past and will in the future too. And as his favorite band GreenDay told “Wake me up when September ends”, he was very much convinced that September should end as soon as possible for one or the other reasons.
So, September came, and with it came the day when his girl was teased by some brat. He was unaware of the incident but the next day brought a big limelight on the matter. And as a secret admirer of her charm and protector of her dignity, he came up without a second thought to face the villain. But who is the villain was his question. As a matter of fact his friend was a part of a dignified group who brought justices to the poor students by fighting for them. And Simr, the guy in love has to reveal everything to him to get the support and blessing of the group. He was invited for the mission to join the group who intended to add another chapter in their book of conquests. So they were ready at an undisclosed location A, waiting for the villain to arrive. The mighty arrived soon and realized the gravity of the situation. First the crime done by him was narrated, and the intention was also made very clear. But the mission was interrupted when a savior came from no where to support the wrong. The guy was older and made the justice group realize his position of influence. He knew many popular people who could bring the group on its knees. So, long story short, mission was aborted.
The lost warriors came to another undisclosed low profile location B, where they met their followers and sister groups. The tale of setting sun on their shores were narrated to the keen ears. It helped in the sense that one person from the audience knew the home location of older guy who made the mission fail. So, the group rejuvenated and headed towards the compromised location. The situation changed, the older guy’s attitude and manner came along the good lines and he was no more aggressive. But this time the group was furious. Consequently, the anger was vented out on the older guy in the dark of course. The enemy of the justice was down and the group cheered and went off. Next day the story penetrated all through the school’s classrooms and playgrounds. And the one name that shook people’s mind was that of our own, the very shy, the very weak, the smiling idiot, the lover guy himself. Investigation was made on where the group was as they bunked or in good words sacrificed their maths class to carry on with their “saving the world” attitude. But no one opened their mouths.
The battle lost its focus due to the distraction but the intention was made very clear in the minds of those who hated justice. The tale became legacy and still got passed onto the younger generation of the school, so that no crime should go unpunished in the future too.