Wednesday, 26 September 2012

Drops of Joy 4


She walked down the road. A million thoughts. The pouring rain. The smell from the earth was so tempting that she felt like eating it. She had a sense of loneliness. She loved that though. There was also this emptiness which crawled into her life from nowhere.

Tantra was drenched.

She was sitting by the window, reading and had already gulped 4 cups of tea. Hence she went out. She went out of her flat. Exited her building.

Looked towards the crying sky. With blinking eyes. She allowed the water to go into her eyes. She loved that moment when she suddenly shut her eyes as soon as raindrops pierced through her eyes.
Water in its purest form. She spread her hands horizontally and stared into the clouds. The rain was in full flow.

Tantra saw a puddle of water about 100 meters from the place she was standing. There were about 4 kids playing in the puddle. Fresh water filled into the large pothole on a recently constructed road.

She played with the kids. Being one amongst them. They had fun in that rare form joy, the government could gift its citizens. She got up from the puddle. She didn't care to wipe off the soiled part on her white kurti. 

She allowed the raindrops to once again fall into her eyes. What if, in a year’s time, it might just be acid rain from above, thanks to global warming?

She was just living the moment. A moment she wouldn't allow to pass off so easily.

Tantra found joy in that raindrop which fell into her eye and hurt her eyeball. She couldn’t feel the same raindrop again. A new one fell into her eyes as soon as she stared again.

Every moment in our lives will have something we can cherish. It might be a raindrop, a puddle or just the crying sky. 

Break free.

Friday, 21 September 2012

Not So Nervous Nineties

(The following post has been written in first person.)

I was waiting for that black Dio to enter my building. Tuffy came. He parked his vehicle. Pulled up the seat and took out a Crossword plastic cover from the compartment. After a brief chat, he handed me the cover.

He left.

I took off the book. Khushwant Singh's face was all over the cover. Absolute Khushwant was the title. I just had Train to Pakistan in my mind which unfortunately I've never read.

Once I started reading the book, I realised the amazing human being he is. Never have I read a person write extensively about the partition and proclaiming his love for Pakistan but being a truly patriotic Indian at the same time. It wasn’t just reading the book but knowing who this nonagenarian was. It was about knowing who Khushwant Singh is. I have seen many joke books written by him in the school library. Never have I tried to read them.

He fuming on the various riots which happened in India reminded me of my Godmother Arundhati Roy. Their stark criticism and undaunting courage startles me.

The way Khushwant Singh openly talks about sex indeed took me aback. He has written a few books on sex but it shows the immense respect he has for them. He still goes to meet them.

He is 97. Nor is he underrated neither overrated. He is amongst the few writers in India who has got his due. He has a fetish towards Urdu literature and excerpts from them can be seen in his life.

He isn’t a great writer just like he confesses but an honest human being. Sadly as per this article (http://www.daijiworld.com/news/news_disp.asp?n_id=122512) he won’t be writing anymore. I pity myself to have started reading him this late.

Let’s hope the dirty old man of Indian Journalism keeps writing. Some Sardars are hardworking, some head the government but some form into one formidable man. Khushwant Singh.

P.S. With inputs from Tushar Kathuria.

Thursday, 20 September 2012

The One Night Stand


Tuffy was too tired. The one night stand was keeping him awake all night. He was awake. Wide awake. He was completing his office related work amidst the one night stand he had for the night.

The one night stand he had for the day was literally burning. She was fuming because of the time taken by Tuffy to complete his work.

Every night the electricity went off and she would just be sweating and waiting for him. Sometimes the wait was so long that she would just fall down and Tuffy would also crash down. Sometimes Tuffy would hit the hay forgetting about her.

Every night he had a new one. Sometimes two of them a night.

The first one would just be sweating it out until he would start off with a new one.
 The old ones would just be the past for him. Just another one which kept him awake the entire night.

He never used the same one again so that’s how the term 'one night stand' came into existence.

The stand he had for all of them was the same which was he invested a lot of money. He knew it would never happen in office and every night from 2100 hours to 0000 hours the electricity would be gone so this was his only source of entertainment.

His office time would be from 0500 hours to 1400 hours but he waited until 1700 hours and took the rest of the paperwork home. Whilst going home on his bike he would stop near a housing colony, pick a pretty looking one, pay, never bargained and come home.

Exactly when the electricity goes he would take the candle from his bag and fix it on his night stand. He had purchased the night stand from a handicrafts shop in Delhi. He had a paid a good 15000 rupees for the copper plated night stand which had engravings from various religious texts.

So his only form of entertainment was his office work.

Today he just needed one candle as he was going to sleep in an hour’s time an not wait for the candle to fall of the stand and clean the wax it sweated out. 

Tuesday, 18 September 2012

Romancing the Books


And then she cleaned her bookshelf for the seventh time in one day. It was a Saturday noon. The weekend had finally arrived after five days of pleasure at work.

Yesterday she had to go with Roy to an awful nightclub right after work.
She thought of cleaning the bookshelf. Browsing through her own collection of books again and again was hilarious but Tantra loved doing that. 

Picking one from the shelf, opening it and smelling the book thoroughly. It was a drug. She could easily distinguish between a pirated one and an original one. The pirated one never gave the addictive smell hence she never purchased or accepted one as a gift.

Accepting a pirated one was disrespect for the love she had for books.
She never had a library membership. The only reason being that she loved owning a book rather than take it on rent and give it back within a stipulated time. She loved savoring the book page by page. Travel with the characters.
Hence she is in a relationship with every single book.

Sometimes with the characters, sometimes with the author or sometimes just with the book itself. It’s one thing she enjoyed.

She never exchanged or gave her books to the scrap vendor just because a parent would never give their kid to an orphanage.

And it started raining. She quickly ran, made some tea, grabbed her book from her dustless bookshelf, sat by the window and started to read.


P.S.[So any of you readers have books which you no longer need/want feel free to mail me on nairgoks@gmail.com and I’ll be more then happy to adopt them and provide them a shelter]

The Stalker


Tantra was out with Roy after she was forced to accompany him to a nightclub. She didn’t consume alcohol. Roy did.

She ordered juice and Roy asked for beer. Roy was just about to take out his card until Tantra knocked his hand, heading towards his wallet in the back pocket.

She took off her card and got it swiped.

Tantra reached for the receipt to sign it.

“450 bucks for a Minute Maid, that’s what I think this citrus thing is, and your stupid beer,” she yelled at Roy.

“Hey, hey that’s not Minute Maid, it’s a mocktail and the beer is imported, I’m a regular here, don’t humiliate me,” Roy yelled back.

“I’m sorry to have invited you here, Roy,” Tantra replied in a sarcastic tone and continued saying, “I guess I’m being stalked by someone here.”

“Oh yes! You’re high,” Roy laughed off the last line.

Tantra wasn’t high. She really felt someone was stalking her. She felt the same whenever she went grocery shopping, online shopping and even at some book stores where she swiped her card and purchased a dozen books.

She left the nightclub with Roy at around 1 am. She went in her flat and crashed on her bed expecting text messages from her stalker the very next day.

She woke up, grabbed her phone and there it was. Two text messages from CITI bank, one informing the Rs. 450 she swiped and the other, her remaining balance. Her stalker was right in her bag, her debit card which followed her wherever she went to shop.

Tuesday, 11 September 2012

Drops of Joy 2


Walking down the beach holding a wrapped box made her wonder the life she lives now. She looked at the waves. She looked at how each wave wanted to be higher than the other. She looked at the people playing in the water and awaiting for the next big wave. She keenly observed how some of them were afraid of the big waves and went a step backward and how some of them fearlessly jumped towards the charging wave. 
Far far away she saw a vessel (a ship) lying stagnant. She wondered about the life the people on that ship must be leading. Far away from their families. Looking at her endlessly stare at the vessel a kid came and touched her.

“Do you have anyone on that ship?” asked the kid.

Tantra nodded her head in the negative.

To this, the kid replied, ”Well you know my dad is on that, I may not be able to see him but he might be glaring in through a binocular to check on his little boy. So I come here daily to wave at him. He may well as may catch a glimpse.”

The kid waved at the stagnant vessel, stared at the box in Tantra’s hand and ran away.

Tantra was moved. She had to move on with her life. Her parents just died in a car accident. She didn’t go to see her parents’ burn down to ashes. Roy managed to collect the ashes in a pot, wrap it and give it to Tantra.
She just stood on the beach holding the ashes. It was almost a week and even after repeated requests from friends she failed to move on.
Perhaps the big waves and the kid might have made a difference.

She looked up and saw one cloud stand out.

She looked down.

She looked at her footprints on the sand.

She saw that whenever her left leg was behind it always wanted to overtake the right leg. She saw a fierce competition between her legs. The universe wanted her to move on.

Tantra had saw her parents smile from above. In the form of a cloud. That finally made the difference.


So whatever be the problem, the Universe never wants you to moan and cry forever. Live your life, surpass the obstacles and watch out. 
Someone somewhere always wants you to be happy.

It sometimes comes, even in the form of a Happy Cloud.