My Thoughts

I chose to be an atheist not because I do not believe in God but because my belief associates me with a particular group of people who are different from others, who are superior to some and inferior to others..and i believe that this very difference in itself is unGodly..

Its Diwali!!

Shammi: Chal chal Jaldi chal?
Ram: par kahan?
Hari: neeche. got some crackers. Lets boom boom.

It was 11 in the night, not an odd hour for the idea of bursting crackers to burst up in a bachelor's heart but definitely an odd hour to implement the idea. But time is the last thing these three guys have information of. The most difficult question they find is - What is the date today? Shammi thinks that its 10 in the evening, which he does not consider an odd hour to burst crackers. Ram knows that its 11 in night and yes, the thought of old people sleeping and dreaming of being young again, of children listening to their mother's loris and of couples doing whatever they are supposed to do at this time comes to his mind but he simply scoffs off the thought because its Diwali (though Diwali is yet 2 days away). And Hari, he simply does not care a damn about time or society.

So, the three of them walk down to the society's garden.

Shammi: Where is Machis?
Hari drags the cigarette as if its a respirator in the oxygen deprived world and then holds it high in his hands.
Hari: Do You really need a machis to burst a cracker?
Shammi: hmm. not actually.

Hari takes a cracker from Ram. Places it in the middle of the garden surrounded by buildings. Lights the cracker with his cigarette. Runs away. Ram closes his ears as someone closes when he knows that something wrong is getting in there. Shammi takes the cigarette from Hari and drags while waiting for the cracker to burst.

cracker: BOOOOM!!!!
Ram: wao that was powerful.
Shammi: yep. my turn.

again, shammi takes the cracker. places in the middle. lights it with a cigarette. All three wait. And then, Boom.

Ram: not that powerful.

Hari was the most excited. Shammi a little less.So, a thought comes to Ram's mind - maybe the way crackers burst is somehow linked with the inner excitement of the person bursting the cracker. Such thoughts, though they mean nothing, always keep Ram in a while loop. Maybe thats why he is always a little absent minded.

Ram: Let me check my excitement level.
Hari: what?
Ram: I mean, its my turn now.

again, Ram takes the cracker. places in the middle. lights it with a cigarette. All three wait. And then, Fusssss.

Shammi: Ohh. bad luck.
Ram(murmerring): or maybe i am the cool type.

again. Hari goes. Shammi goes. Ram goes. BOOOOOM...BOOOM...FUSSS...

VOICE1: you have any idea What the Fuck are You three crazy shits doing at this point of time??

Ram finds this voice louder than the BOOM of cracker. May be because he did not close his ears to this voice.

Ram: waoo. that was rude.

VOICE1: Do you know what time is it?
Ohh the most difficult question.

Shammi: Why? its 10.
attempted this time. But wrong answer, so must be given negative marks.

VOICE1: and YOU BACHELORS think that you can do anything at this time. YOU BACHELORS does not have any civil sense. YOU BACHELORS have destroyed the peace of many societies. I will see how YOU BACHELORS stay in this society.
A door of some flat opens and a family comes out rubbing their eyes to watch the Drama.

Though a little rudely, everything was fine in what VOICE1 said, except YOU BACHELORS. Now this is something that irritates every bachelor. What can a bachelor do about his being bachelor. Marry? No, he cant marry at 23. Live in?? No, VOICE1 kind of people think it to be amoral or something and moreover there are not enough girls for every bachelor boy to have a live in with, and thats because the VOICE1's generation was obsessed with baby boys. So the only alternative for a bachelor is to be content with his bachelor life. But ironically, youth does not favor contentment. So it hurts like a knife when somebody, specially of VOICE1's generation, says YOU BACHELORS.

Ram: Everything you say is right but only if you had said it a little politely.

VOICE1: Politeness!!! Now, YOU BACHELORS will show me what politeness is?
A door of some other flat opens and one more family comes out rubbing their eyes to watch the Drama.

Shammi: of course. why not?

VOICE1: you people do not have any respect for the elder people,like me, and you will teach me politeness.
A door of one more flat opens and one more family comes out rubbing their eyes to watch the Drama.

Now this was getting too much. So, Shammi comes in form.

Shammi: why should I respect you? Just because you were born 40 years before I was born, or because you have wasted more years of your life than I have wasted, or because you have seen more obscenities of this world than I have seen or just because you have been so rude to us. Why?? Respect does not come by age. You have to earn it. We guys here may not have earned your respect. The way you talk with us shows it. But we guys do have dignity. And we are not going to take a single offensive word from anybody.

VOICE1: So, you want me to be sorry for what I said.

Hari: No. We just want you to be a little polite. If you would have said "guys its too late for crackers. you may be disturbing somebody." we would have gone home without saying a word or maybe who knows we could have apologized too.

VOICE2(VOICE1's son.MARRIED): You three Jack asses. You know its illegal to burst crackers after 10. If you burst one more cracker I will call the cops.
COPPPPPS....two doors open this time and two more families come out.

Shammi: Call whoever you want to call.But you people, with your loud voice, have disturbed more people here than our four crackers. [two crackers by Ram were FUSSss..]

Now some guys come down in the garden and start settling the matter.

anonymous voice: leave it Bhattacharya ji. Its Diwali. I know them they are nice people. Ho jata hai kabhi kabhi.
anonymous voice: leave it yaar. Lets go home. Bhattacharya is a crazy irritating man.

Ram noticed the crowd. All of them were with THE BACHELORS. And Ram feels as if he and his friends have won the argumnet. So, he thinks maybe to win the crowd is more important than to win the argument. So, Ram gets stuck in a switch-case statement here considering all the possible advantages and disadvantages of winning the crowd.

NEXT DAY: EVENING: In the same garden

VOICE3: Hi Shammi. I noticed you last night. You really had a point. I am really impressed.
Shammi: really. never seen you before.
VOICE3: ohh. I live there. I am Mr. Bhattacharya's daughter. I liked your way and soo.. and soo and the conversation went on...

Shammi comes home.
Shammi: guess what happened today.
Ram: a beautiful girl approached you.
Shammi: yaa. But guess who?
Ram:Bhattacharya's daughter.
Shammi:yep. But how do you know.
Ram(smugly):huhu!!winning crowd is definitely more important.

An Extra Push

"Double everything. Double the number of dibbas that you deliver to each household, double the size if gulab janmuns in them and double the chasni in each gulab jamun" shouted Hari Prasad with a smile on his face that revealed double the number of teeth, if you count blank spaces too where once there had been teeth, than a normal smile did. All his life Hari Prasad has always put an extra effort to whatever he did to ensure better or atleast double results; and this time too, his extra effort, an extra push blessed him with twin babies. Both of them boys - so similar in appearance that once when they were sitting face to face, relatives started running their fingers through the empty space to find if there was a mirror between them and on their disappointment they had exclaimed "Ha! Kudrat ka karishma! Nazar na lage" and put a black nazar battu spot on each child's face. With contributions from Dada, Dadi, Nana, Nani, Mama, Mami, Chacha, Chachi, and every possible distant relationship that can be thought of in an Indian Hindu family, the number of spots became so numerous that it made the two babies look like dalmations - twin dalmations in fact. Thats how this do(d/g)gy affair began. This was the day when two so similar babies that there was not even name to differentiate between them came to this world.

To get out of the confusion as soon as possible, Hari Prasad called a Pundit to christen the babies. Hari already had the names in his mind - Luv and Kush. What can be better but the names of twin Hindu Gods. After hours of going through all types of spiritual and religious books Pundit came out with the names of Ajay and Vijay. Hari was not happy so he asked Pundit if they can be named Luv and Kush. Pundit simply regected without telling the reasons - the reasons which will become apparent a few years later. The one sitting to the left of him was christened Ajay and the one on right was Vijay. But as soon as the Pundit left and relatives started juggling the babies between them, they got so confused about who was who that they had to call the pundit again. This time he came out with the names of Ram and Shyam and to avoid confusion he put a red band on Ram's wrist. This consoled Hari Prasad a little. If not the names of Gods, then the names of two famous bollywod movie characters. If not progenitors then imitators.

Ten years later, the fact that Ram and Shayam were not only similar but also interrelated revealed itself when once Ram drank lemonade and Shyam said that it lacked salt. In the same year they discovered what was waiting to be discovered - a Ginnie; a Ginnie metamorphosed into a band by tantras and mantras of a Pundit on the day Ram was christened; a Ginnie whose not only presence but also absence could change the name of its owner. After this discovery Ram and Shyam often used this band to change their names. Ram would become Shyam and Shaym would become Ram in a split second and nobody could say that it was otherwise. They would play this game of changing names often to save each other from their teachers for not doing homework, from the motherly curses of of their progenitors or just for fun. When they grew up they often shared their numerous girlfriends, without them having slightest doubt. They played this game so many times in their life that a few years later while dying Ram would doubt if he really was Ram, or he has exchanged personalities with shyam while playing the intricate games of changing names in childhood; he would doubt if the death he is dying is really meant for him or is it shyam who was meant to die. He would remember his mother's words "oh!God. they are so similar that even angels can get confused." and think if the death's angel has really chosen a wrong person in confusion.

Confusion. Confusion, which is other people's weakness was their strngth; confusion is what has helped them fool the world; confusion was their weapon and they would not do anything that would blunt this weapon. They went to the same school, same graduate college, had similar hairstyle, wear similar clothes and play similar games. They were so much obsessed with being similar that they married two twin girls who were similar like them. One day that was, and that was not, probably Ram or probably Shyam entered a room that was his or not his and made love to a girl who was probably his wife or probably not. Confusion made love to confusion and bred skepticism. Confusion is what they have nurtured like a son and which has grown, like most sons, into something that they did not want it to grow into. Confusion was the weapon which they themselves have sharpened, which Ram or probably Shyam used against the other and killed somebody. One of them died but nobody knew who, except the one that was alive but he was not in a condition to tell his identity ever after this incident.

On the day of funeral Hari Prasad declared both his sons dead. "Double Everything. Double the number of logs required for cremation and double the oil on each log" cried Hari Prasad with double the number of tears in his eyes that he would have normally shed. In so much grief Hari Prasad remembers himself and his wife, making love under the starry night, when they conceived their Luv and Kush, and on her request he tried an extra push.

Khush Khabri

Baba! Baba! ... khush khabri babaaa....
That was a Monday morning when it all began and it was me who brought this khush khabri. Running towards the rising Sun on a narrow pagdandi through the vast mustard fields I was looking for my baba to tell him the khush khabri. I didn't want to lose this chance to someone else so I ran harder and harder towards the Sun...towards my baba.

Baba: kya hua bhola?
Khush khabri Baba!! Khush khabri!!
Baba: kaisi khushkhabri??
Baba jo bagal main naye factory khuli hai usme aapki naukri manzoor ho gayi hai. Har mahine 5000 rupiya milega baba.
Baba: sach bhola!kab jana hoga?
Agle hafte.

Those were the moments of happiness and I still remember Baba's smiling face. I tell you if you see my Baba smiling you will never forget his dry lips stretched to a maximum with a shine in his eyes. He rarely smiled because it hurt him to stretch his dry lips but that day he hardly cared. After all he got a job in a fertilizer factory setup by a multinational company. My Baba may be uneducated but he knows a lot about plants, crops, weeds, seeds, manures and all that agro stuff. I am sure he can beat any agriculture scholar for he has acquired this knowledge from his ancestors who acquired it from their ancestors and so on upto the ancient man. May be because of his knowledge my Baba was among the few lucky ones who were selected.
The opening of a fertilizer factory was not only a good news but it also meant that our fields would be greener, there would be no seasonal unemployment, we would be rich once again and I would be able to buy that necklace for Radha. No, Radha never asked for any necklace. She never asks for anything. But I knew she liked that necklace. That's the beauty of love; You always know what your partner likes more than you know about yourself. But you know I dont like one thing about her - She always keeps on interrupting me. She can't let me write one single page without interrupting.

Radha: Kya kar rahe ho bhola?
Kuchh nahin. Zindagi main hue nafa nuksaan ka hisaab laga raha hoon.
Radha: achha ab hisaab kitaab band karo aur khana kha lo. Maine khana bana diya hai.
Lekin khane main toh abhi time hai. Tum har baar pehle aa jati ho. Mujhe likhne do.

One thing has changed about Radha in all these years. Earlier she used to drag me by arm to dinner, now she doesn't do it anymore. She just agrees to what I say. Well anyways, lets get back to the story.

On that Monday evening, to tell the khushkhabri to Radha, I took her to our favourite meeting place. It's an old watch tower, 40 meters high, built by some king in 1600s. Radha likes that place a lot maybe because with fortress behind and vast stretch of fields in front, she feels like a queen being there. I like that place because of what happened there that evening.

Guess whats the news today
Radha: What?
I held her hand in mine and pointed towards the factory.
Baba got job in that factory Radha. 5000 rupaye per month..
Radha: really..
yes, and you know what does it mean. It means I will be able to go to the college in city Radha.
I could see her smile fade away, her eyes moistening.
Radha: When?
Next month.

I saw time liquifying in her eyes, every second accumulating to form a minute,every minute accumulating to form a day and every day flowing down her cheek. I wished I had not said antyhing, I had just kept my mouth shut. She stood there -- silently crying, evading my eyes as if she had made some mistake. I held her face in my hands and assured her that I will come every month, that I will write to her every day. She hugged me as somebody hugs you when they fear that you will no longer be the same. That evening it rained and it was not an ordinary rain; every drop of it was cololured, from the shades of grey to the shades of green. It seemed as if the clouds were firing colourless arrows, which when passed through rainbow acquired different colors depending on the colourband through which they passed. For baba the colour was green, for me it was blue but for Radha it was grey. That day Radha did not speak anything. With every sigh she tightened her grip as if she wont let me go.
Well, that was past. Look at her now. She doesn't hug me anymore and whenever I try to hug her she just vanishes away like a spectre.

Days passsed. Baba started going to job. He was happy. I bought a necklace for Radha. She was better too. I was preparing for college. Infinite dreams in my eyes. Three days were left for me to go to college when Baba came home angrily from the factory. He didn't tell me what the issue was but later I came to know that he was concerned about safety of workers in the factory. Exactly two days later the factory blew up, leaking poisnous gases in air. Some died, some survived. But we were lucky -- me, Radha and Baba. Though they have changed a lot after that but atleast they are with me in this room. Though I cant physically touch them but atleast I can hear them. Though Radha doesnt hug me anymore but atleast she doesnt cry anymore too.

Guard: number 417. Take your dinner.
I have my own. Radha has made it for me and baba.
guard: Take it man or else very soon you will be a ghost too, like Radha and baba, in this mental asylum.

This was a short story I dreamed of after reading an article on Bhopal Gas Tragedy.

The Final Exit

Like most people, Ram Prasad did not realize the worth of his life until he reached the deathbed, where he lies with his eyes wide open, as they were on the day he was born, staring into the emptiness of sky. This is the moment when he realizes that all his life he has just been a part of a race that had no end and that has deteriorated him so badly that he does not wish to recall its memories. So, he tries to remember those days of his life when he was not a part of any race, when he was so new to this world that for him many things lacked name. He remembers the patio where he was born, where he learned to stand on his feet, where he spent his childhood, from where the race started and where he now lies on his deathbed. He observes that the distance between the exact place where he was born and the place where he is dying now is not more than a few feet, which makes him realize the fact that was always before his eyes, but he was never able to relate it with his own life, that most race tracks are circular and so was his.

His heart gets so heavy with this realization that he starts feeling sleepy and his mind wanders to the city of memories to find the most pleasurable moments, to find those decisive moments of his life where he wants to go back and decide again. There he finds himself sitting, facing her, their knees just touching, in a patio filled with orange trees, which caught fire on that full moon night. He remembers the promises they made to live and die together because they always believed that lives don't only end with death, there are other ways, some even more honorable. He remembers the touch of her hand, the smell of her hair, the warmth of her breath and her smile against the golden glow of morning sun.

Then, in the city of memories his mind goes to the place where he took the decision, with an emotion that resembled vanity more than love, to leave her and go abroad. He took this decision not only to have a good career but also because at that time he was content with illusion that he would keep her in his memory and give himself to her from a distance in passionate letters. But soon he realized that it was just an illusion. Since then he has always wanted to go back to that moment and decide again, but after that he was so involved in the race that he was unable to commit the least part of his life to her. Since then he has been alone, though, to say, the whole world was along with him in this race.

With all these memories his heart gets so heavy that he can feel his lungs yielding to its weight. He tries hard to forget her and breathe at the same time but its impossible for him to do so since the air he inhales is of the same patio where he first met her and it still smells of her sighs. Some voices from the street make his journey to the next world and exit from this world a little less painful:

"To be born again, first you have to die. Ho ji! Ho ji!
To land upon the blossomy earth, first one needs to fly. Tat-ta! Taka-thun!
How to ever smile again, if first you won't cry?
How to win a darling's love, mister, without a sigh!
Baba, if you want to get born again??.

Last five lines are from "The Satanic Verses"