THE ROWER

THE ROWER
They were too impatient to live. They symbolized life within me: they were the beacons of hope illuminating the dark passage of my life. They had the potential to make me wish for another life that would have just the two of us. They were quite restless and agitated: there was a storm in the making; at moments they even trembled a bit. Each eye had a life of its own: each seemed to be thinking differently from the other on every conceivable topic. They made me cease to believe in myself; I didn’t know what to believe in.

I wanted to believe in the present. The present situation directed me to fall in love with the reality before me. A sequel of my failed dreams played in my semiconscious mind, but the reality before me was stronger than all the dreams I had once dreamt of. She was to be the catharsis of all my dreams that could not come true. I sometimes wonder whether I ought to thank my stars for the dreams that could not come true. All of them left an impeccable mark on me, all of them were an essential ingredient of my teenage and adolescence and all of them taught me important lessons of life. The dreams that could not come true seemed to converge in the reality before me.

The reality before me was screaming that adventure lies within oneself, not outside. I could smell the freshness of the carnival of life in her breaths. She was the physical manifestation of some of my ideals, if not all. Her lips were a beautiful me’lege of contrasts. Her face was as intricate as a maze, and yet from top to toe, she had no misprint. Her innocent gaze made me feel vaguely embarrassed---less inviolate, and more dishonoured than I liked. I began to wonder if I had a right to her after the countless infatuations, but her eyes came to my rescue. The eyes were now a part of the reality of my life. I wanted to live in the reality, they gave me a chance to forget my dreams.

My dreams were now in her hands. I looked at the henna-covered hands that had my destiny inscribed on them. I was not aware that the floral designs celebrated the charms of our sojourns that were yet to come. I felt too perverted a representative of the nature of man to be a part of her. I felt like a freeman pleading for the chains of slavery. It would be treason against masculinity, I know, but this could be a remnant of feudalism in India. Forgotten things came back to me, several occasions which I thought were great moments dropped out of sight. The result was kaleidoscopic; a myriad of golden moments rushed to the stage before me, but failed to replace the wonder before me.

The wonder before me blushed a little, although she could not have been aware of all that went through my mind. The blush, accompanied with the momentary ardour she had thrown into it, was so becoming that I was dumbstruck. The many colours of her face whispered aloud the secrets of the infatuations that could not materialize. I made up my mind to ask her about them, but I had to give up my resolve the very next moment when she looked at me with the freshness and innocence of a baby. The regular blinking of her eyes could have denoted the sunrise and sunset in the horizon everyday; they denoted the dawn of a new day in my life. She covered her eyes with her hands. I did not try to uncover the face. The hands would handle the oars of my life for several years to come; the rowing would be rough, it always is.

The Eyes

THE EYES


The eyes were something that I wanted to own. There was my future packed into her retina: I wanted to possess my future. Looking into her eyes was like looking into a looking glass that could tell the future. The future is always exciting, specially if it is tinged with a bit of vice. The contours of her face had the potential to make me think of felony. Her eyes had the depth of the cosmos, but I did my best to stay afloat in the sea of emotions they stirred within me. They made me wish for another life that would be full of the vigour and splendour of youth. Looking into her eyes was like looking into the peace and tranquility of heaven through the latticed windows of my life.

The latticed windows of my life had let through sunlight and dust with such ferocity in the past few years that I’d begun to wonder if the yawning difference between my wishes and the reality would ever be bridged. Her eyes showed me the bridge to reality. They brought the sky with all its paraphernalia of stars and comets to the ground. They reminded me that my life has been following the untrodden path. They reminded me of the never-ending life that would follow this finite life on earth. Her eyes had the joy and novelty in a child’s eyes when it sees a new toy. The four points of the compass converged into the wells of Arabia symbolized by here eyes.

Her eyes were hidden for a split second when she blinked: the radiant sun was covered behind dark clouds for a split second. The world around me was covered in layers of dark clouds for a moment. The world around me was as dark as the overclouded night without the two beacons of life and hope. The darkness reminded me of the darkness of the screen on which movies are screened. I tried to make out the protagonists in the drama of her life as it must have unfolded before her. I began to wish to be a part of her story, I wanted to be a part of the solution to the problems that life would bring before her. Her eyes were like the wishing-well that grants every wish that one makes. I wanted to make a wish. Her eyes seemed to be the origin of all my wishes, they had the key to their fulfillment. They were like HG Well’s time machine that took the protagonist back and forth through time.

Time did its best to hypnotise me, and I did my best to break the trance. I’m not sure of who emerged as the victor. The passage of time has not been able to erase the sketch of her eyes from my memory. They were the antithesis of war, and yet I could see the progenitor of all the conflict in the world in her eyes. In a small way , the strife in the world seemed to be quite puny before the conflict her eyes aroused within me.

I wanted to go back to the time when all my troubles began. I wanted to fix all the errors that time had committed. Time moves on despite all our attempts at securing control over it. No one can control the flow of destiny, the past shall slowly but surely be obscured behind the thick curtains of time. Time shall bring a new day full of new experiences and adventures after every cycle of sunrise and sunset, but her eyes shall be with me for a long time reminding me of the many things that I discovered in her eyes that day.

THE FACE

THE FACE
It was like witnessing a pantomime in the night without lights or other paraphernalia. Her face was as vivacious and lively as that of a new-born baby. It was as vibrant with emotions as the strings of a guitar blazing with the latest music. Her eyes were struggling to look into my eyes: the silent gaze was as eloquent as a waterfall. It had a domino effect within me: it brought down all the frontiers of defence in my heart, her eyes had the potential to dive into the countless aeons of time I’ve been blinking my eyes.

My eyes sought the peace and tranquility that one seeks in Mecca and Medina in her face. Her face was like a fallow land in which the farmer sees a huge potential in the form of crops. The crops bring a huge smile on his face; they translate into happiness and satisfaction; her face could be a region of peace, it could even spell terror. It was an enigma that insisted on being solved, the puzzle was beautiful as such, I did not want to solve it.

The solution offered by the puzzled and amazed look that she gave me in return was as intricate as the problem. It was like looking into a crystal ball that could tell the future. I could see a glimpse of my future in her face: it was as intricate as her face. I could see the tricks that life intended to play on me. The tricks would manifest themselves with wit, humour, solemnness, sobriety and piety throughout my life. My life would have to smile through all this and more. There would be very little choice. These tricks that life plays on us are unique and beautiful in the sense that they are put thorough our lives with pied beauty. They are put forth with such beauty and simplicity that one begins to doubt the very intentions of life. Life intends to burden us with its weight till we bend double, but the manner in which these intricacies are put before us makes life all the more gracious and beautiful.

My life becomes all the more gracious and beautiful when I think of those moments when she was facing me in the bus. These memorable moments brighten up my days because I’m jaded by the monotonous, dull and serene music that the cymbals of my life have been sounding for a long time. Although it would be quite some time for full colour to completely take over the black and white portions of my life, for the moving image of life to more or less erase the magical narrative power of the still photograph of my life, I don’t mind such entertainment every now and then, I won’t mind witnessing a pantomime the next time I’m on a bus.

MEET MY IN-LAWS

MEET MY IN-LAWS
I sometimes wonder what my reaction would be when Zeenat would introduce me to her future in-laws. I’ve always been a proponent of love and love-marriages, I back every lover making a beeline to a love-marriage to the hilt, but I’ve never thought of the moments when the truth would be before my very self. I wonder if I would sanction her choice with a smile or with a scowl. It has been my heart-felt wish to elope with someone who would be like me, but when Zeenat heralds an entry into my world, all these values would have changed, all these wishes would be gone.

Gone are the days when a deliberated choice made by our parents after a lot of calculations was considered to be as good as the final saviour of mankind. In a predominantly orthodox Indian society marching obstinately towards the next millennium, our parents remain obsessed with the concept of arranging our marriages. They browse through the matrimonial columns of dailies with such sobriety and piety that our own set of dreams are often ruffled. They dream such wild dreams, what they don’t realise is that our set of dreams and aspirations are as important and sometimes more important, they don’t realise that very little would remain in our world once these dreams are gone.

Gone are the days when a shy, quiet and demure girl entered the living room with a tray bearing tea-cups. It is a part of Indian history when young boys and girls were introduced to each other as a part of the tradition of marriage. With the passage of time, the institution of the traditional Indian marriage has undergone a sea-change. As Indians, while we have managed to stick to our traditions when it comes to celebrating a festival, a birth in the family, or even a marriage, the manner in which marriages used to be arranged, the manner in which our parents’ marriage was arranged, has become obsolete. On deeper reflection, the truth emerges that the change has been forced upon the society by the tremendous changes that have crept into it.

It is imperative for the society to change with time, many of our values and ideals have undergone a change too. The Indian society has come to accept several modes of communication that have accelerated the changing social patterns. The boom in the IT sector has given an important tool in the hands of our young Romeos and Juliets, it is not an uncommon sight to find a girl or a boy engaged in private conversation for hours to end on the mobile, but with it, they ensure that their love-stories don’t have a similar end as that of Romeo and Juliet. The introduction of the mobile as a means of communication has certainly been a boon for the love-struck. We have used the telephone so efficiently in our love lives that even Alexander Graham Bell would blush if he were told of the use of his invention. We can now talk to our hearts’ content without any interruption. We have used the modern version of the telephone with such excellent results that the cell phone operators are proving to be a thorn in the flesh of the dailies and weeklies that specialize in matrimonial columns. The traditional landline phone is used only by our parents to discuss the dates of our matrimony.

Marriage emerges as the most essential part of all love-stories, so everyone should be prepared tobe introduced to one’s samdhi and samdhan the day the kids learn to talk. The final date of marriage is hastened as young boys and girls use the internet to facilitate communication. The internet has not only created a global village of the world, but it has also brought young hearts together. Today, young boys and girls can chat with each other to their hearts’ content without even the slightest hint of an amorous contact.

The amorous contact is merely a prelude to the imperative and essential contact between our parents. The skills and talents of the prospective bride and groom no longer matter: it is the compatibility of the in-laws that is put to test now. They don’t have much of a choice though when the choice has already been made by us. The changing times have brought forth the scenario where it is the parents who are put up for display, and for a change, it is the parents who have to behave properly. The entire crux of the matter depends on how they conduct themselves. They are often groomed to fit into the picture. They have to behave properly happen what may. All this ensures a smooth transfer of the girl’s residence with the usual deluge of tears. This is what happens in India.

The Indian girls cannot give up the tradition of crying and shedding tears despite the truth that the Indian youth have finally caught up with the West in several ways including the concept of arranging a marriage between two sets of parents brought together to come to common terms despite any apparent differences if only for the sake of the kids. This is something that runs parallel to the time when young boys and girls were introduced to each other to check their compatibility. This is not another Western concept adopted by the Indians as another mark of modernity. This has been there ever since the Vedas were memorized by our ancestors. The Vedas even prescribe a form of marriage arranged by the love-birds. Our ancestors would have been proud of us had they known of the way we solemnize marriages in modern India. All said and done, traditions seem to have lost the race with modernity.

Marriages in modern India are as much made in heaven as in the medieval times, the only difference is that the heavens have now drifted a bit close to the earth. The nod of the parents doesn’t matter all that now, they are there only to make the final arrangements, what matters is our marital bliss, we must be in heaven soon after intimating our parents or even without intimating them.

Some parents emerge from the crisis a lot happier because their kids have done all the dirty work involved in selecting the right partner, some simply can’t believe that their research for our partner has gone to the gutter, while some end up mourning the choice if it turns out to be from a different social class, community or even a different religion. This brings out the reality that our parents also deserve some amount of satisfaction. From this realisation emerges the importance of the preparations for introducing the respective samdhi and samdhan. At times, they have to be groomed, taught etiquettes, and sometimes even tutored how to behave. After all the objections and negative words, it turns out that each of our parents has to embrace the other’s equations whether they like it or not. While we make the final deal between ourselves, very little is left for our parents to do. It is high time that our parents realised that the present generation and the generations to come are capable of making a good choice themselves. I hope Zeenat does make a good choice for herself.

THE COLOURS OF MY LIFE

THE COLOURS OF MY LIFE
It was raining. None of us wanted to get off the car, none of us wanted to quit the automobile, not because of the rain, but each of us wanted to be in the car that was our last stop for excitement that day. There was a bitter fight among us on the issue of who would be dropped home first, and who would be the last. Each of us wanted to be in the car till the very end, each of us waned to preserve the excitement till the very end. The trip to Azdabia had brought about an element of change in our lives, for the world we were children; we had just entered our teenage, the world was fresh and new.

Novelty in all forms has been embraced by me at al different stages of life. Novelty has brought with itself excitement, Azdabia and Mickey always injected my life with a fresh dose of excitement. The excitement usually began at the gates of the school at 2 pm, it went a long way over the arid lads around Benghazi to the camp of the Indian Road Construction Company (IRCC) in Azdabia.

The IRCC camp in Azdabia did not hold much potential for excitement, but being together in the company of friends filled us with happiness. These days taught some important lessons to me. I now realise that it is being in the company of others that is called love. Whenever I see young boys and girls connodling in McDonald’s or Pizza Hut or in other public places, I’m reminded of this theorem of life.

Life was just beginning then, the vast span of life lay before me, there was a smile on my face as the car raced across the road towards Azdabia. The sun had just begun its descent from the zenith, but this could not wipe away the smile on my face. It only channelised my happiness. We enjoyed each other’s company, we played together, we went for treks over the desert, the desert had only rocks and sand, but walking together with a tape-recorder for company was like living our entire lives in just one day: it was our common passion for music that bound us together. There were several such days in the year, Azdabia hosted our group for the night on several occasions. These instances resonate with a unique frequency in my life. Compound utterances address themselves to my senses when I think of these moments. It is possible to view by the mind the features of the IRCC camp in Azdabia. Acoustic pictures are returned from the vivid scenery: I can hear the very notes of our happiness. The fleeting moments have left behind a lasting impression on my mind. Memories of these days are refreshed whenever I look at the photographs.

The photographs could capture only the physical aspect of the passing moments. The emotional aspect is safely preserved in my heart. They form some of the most beautiful memories of my life. Although a large part has been eaten away by time---20 years have gone by--- a few of the emotions yet remain undisturbed in my mind. They seem to have established themselves in a sort of timelessness.

Time shall eventually work on what remains of these memories. They would fall into the trap that life lays before us: these memories would eventually fade into eternity just as several others have. Memories of these days remind me how close-knit we were as friends. True friendship remains confined to that age, and that stage of life. We were together for no specific reason other than our age, all of us were on the thresholds of our teenage.

Teenage is the age when our personalities develop: the backward and forward play of our lives eventually saw all of us emerging as different and distinct individuals. Although I do respect the different personalities we developed into, we parted ways in several ways, things were never the same again, and life was never the same again. It was like the sun breaking up into the many stars in the sky.

The sky seems to be mourning the celestial event: it rained last night. The change was welcome after the hot and dry weather. The change suppressed the echoes of the past. The echoes of the past travel across the horizon faster in the hot weather. The voices of the present are not enough to suppress the echoes of the past: I find myself looking towards the heavens for a favourable constellation in the sky. At these times, I blame my stars for my fate, but I brighten up as I spot a favourable constellation in the sky.

The sky has stopped crying after all these years, there is a huge difference between then and now, there is neither thunder, lightning nor rain, the sky is not overcast with clouds anymore, there is no reason to mourn now. I see no point in retaining the reason why I fell prey to the lures of life’s tricks: life moulded each of us into entirely different individuals, the ruthless flow of time only adds to the realisation that things did not remain the same, all of us changed, all of us flowed with time. These tricks of my life have the potential to raise an orchestra of voices within me protesting against the antics of my fate and destiny. The notes of my life symbolizing my protest against fate occasionally o flare up like fire, but they also fade away with equal ferocity in a few moments. The beauty of life lies in the manner the dying embers are fanned into a dazzling bonfire after the flames have been doused, giving way to the varied colours of my life.

IT HAPPENED LAST NIGHT

IT HAPPENED LAST NIGHT

I could not help writhing in anger at the thought of the unendurable realities that I have been through. These truths do return to haunt me from time to time. Though they form a part of my past now, yet a reminiscence once in a while results in uncontrollable spasms of anger and hatred. They were so severe that I could not help shaking all over in anger.

The anger makes me realise that I have felt more steam and smoke than my peers. The more that I see of life, the more do I perceive that there is nothing particularly noble in its great walks, and also that there is nothing particularly small in mine. I feel that the greatest blessings vouchsafed to us are, after all, not as valuable, but I do feel at a great loss when they are taken away.

When these blessings are taken away, they seem to assume the greatest importance and significance. The simplicity with which this truth of life has been put forth before me is commendable. I sometimes marvel at the utter simplicity with which life has presented itself, but I am also awestruck by the metaphors used in telling the story: The Creator does have a wonderful sense of dramaturgy. He has used the element of surprise in the drama of life so judiciously that recognizing the truth of a moment of my life has been as exciting as discovering the soul of the universe.

The universe that exists around me is haunted by the ghosts of my past. My past has some beautiful moments under its umbrella. The entire aura becomes beautiful when I think of these moments, these thoughts have kept me kicking all these years. These thoughts are like a whiff of fresh air to me. They are my best friends: they listen to my inner voice, they can even read the echoes transcribed by my silence on the fabric of my life, they have been with me through thick and thin, they shall always be with me. Though the physical part of these moments have disappeared like vapour a soon as they have manifested themselves, yet their presence in my life is as essential as air in my lungs.

The air in my lungs is as essential to sustain me just as imagining the beautiful moments that just might be here someday sustain life within me: Zeenat sustains life within me: I must think of her, I must dream of her. The echoes of Zeenat’s cries shall reverberate across all the corners of my life. Zeenat is the ray of hope for my sustenance. I wish for Zeenat as an insane man yearns for another life without insanity. Thinking of Zeenat has had the potential to push my emotions to the zenith. Her thoughts collide with my present, but the collision provides relief to me as the music produced by the collision is better than the one produced by last night’s experiences.

Last night’s experiences recurred a few moments ago. The spasms of anger and frustration that I experienced were certainly not pleasant. The worst part of this is that I cannot do anything to control this: the seeds were sown consciously or unconsciously a long time ago, but the fruits are being reaped today. These attacks could prove to be detrimental to my future: I must pay the price of the crimes that I did not commit, for the crimes committed by someone else.

Someone else would be required to fill in the gaps created by the foes of my history. The gaps would continue to haunt me till she takes over the reins of my life. I wonder how long these gaps would continue to haunt me. I am certainly not in a hurry, I want to enjoy every entity that life throws my way, I want to enjoy the moments of withdrawl that her presence would bring into my life. To enjoy them to their full potential, I must bear the spasms of anger and frustration, I must quietly bear what happened a few moments ago, and I must quietly bear last night’s experiences. I cheer myself with the undying hope that she and Zeenat would prove to be worth all this and more, I hope my life is worth all this and more.

THE ELIXIR OF MY LIFE

THE ELIXIR OF MY LIFE
My dear daughter,
I love you. There seem to be no other words to express my feelings for you. Language did come up as a facility for us when we wanted to express ourselves, but it also brought with itself the impediment that I cannot find words to express my feelings for you, language conceals the beauty of the universe in this manner. Language refuses to communicate my abstract thoughts as well as it portrays the concrete world. You have been a beautiful abstraction that has been in my heart from the time I came into the world. My world seems to be incomplete without you, you are the link that can complete the chain of my life, your thoughts are blessed with the magic of my life, my life seems to be covered with a mist when I am not thinking of you.

The mist over a large part of my life is now clear. It has given way to the real world, the real world is certainly nothing when compared to the world you live in. You have been living in the world of my dreams ever since my dreams became a part of my life. I often dream of the things that could not be transformed into a reality. These dreams form an important part of my past. My past stands out as nightmare that shall not loosen its hold over me unless you are with me. I badly want to shake off the burden of my past, I badly want you to be with me. Your company would work miracles in my life, my life is undergoing a transformation everyday, things would begin to change for the better once you are with me. You would be the catalyst that I would need to ignite the bundle of dreams that threaten to haunt me unless they are done away with as soon as possible. These dreams could not undergo the desired metamorphosis, they await their transformation into a reality even today.

Today I realise that these dreams were little more than a mirage in the desert. These dreams were merely agents to drive me to live another day in my life. Another dream was needed to splatter my life with colour. You stepped into my dreams to brighten my life with the colours of the rainbow. The universe around me becomes as vivid as my favourite colour when I think of you, and yet the transformation if the abstraction that you are into a physical reality threatens to shatter the beauty of the universe around me. The world around me thrives by virtue of your abstract thoughts. These abstract thoughts form an integral art of me, I cannot prevent myself from thinking of you.

You have been living in my heart for such a long time that I now feel that your abstract thoughts are far better than any concrete reality. I seem to be enamoured with your abstract concept. I once wished that the abstraction might one day turn into a reality, but with the passage of time, the wish has become stale. The passage of time makes everything stale, the only entity that remains fresh is life.

Life is so fresh that it does not accommodate anything stale, but your thoughts are endowed with the freshness of life. Thinking of you is such a beautiful experience that I don’t want to part with your thoughts, I don’t want the abstraction to be a reality. Your thoughts fill me with such zeal and enthusiasm that I want to do nothing but think of you.

Thinking of you is such an exciting experience that I am filled with the greatest ecstasy whenever I think of you. These are some of the most beautiful dreams that I dreamt of. These dreams form an integral part of the sublime moments of my life. The experience is so refreshing that I forget all my woes when I think of you. Your thoughts are the elixir of my life: they make my life live, I don’t want to part with your thoughts.

Your thoughts have such a strong hold over my destiny that my life seems to be entering a void as it emerges from your thoughts, and yet your presence is so demanding that I cannot imagine a life without you. You are the beginning of life within me, and you are the end of life within me. Life begins with you, and it ends with you.

Zeenat, you are the most beautiful abstraction that I ever created. The abstraction adds colour to my life. You are the only one who can transform my dull and serene life into a beautiful world; you are the creator of all that I beautiful in my world, you are the architect of my beautiful world.

My world is beautiful even with out you, I only fear that a change in the setup would prove detrimental to my world, your physical presence in my world would destroy the beauty of the moments that are passing by without you: your absence makes my world all the more beautiful. Your thoughts seem to provide the reason for the entire struggle in the world. Your presence would be the end of the entire struggle, it would be the end of my beautiful world.

My beautiful world is not devoid of sufferings, but I don’t want you to suffer. I don’t want you to be a part of the real world because everyone in the real world has to suffer, I don’t want you to suffer. I don’t want you to be a part of the world because I don’t want to lose the abstraction that forms you, I want to preserve your thoughts for eternity. I don’t want you to be a part of the real world because I love you.

THE pH OF MY LIFE

THE pH OF MY LIFE

The empty pack of Frooti lay at my feet. I crushed the emblem of defeat out of frustration. It had not lasted longer than the first few sips. Though the taste of fresh mango lingered in my mouth for quite a long time, yet I was not satisfied. I wanted the packet to lat longer; I wanted it to yield a bit more of the happiness that it had promised to me.

I sometimes marvel at the utter simplicity with which my life presents itself, but I am also awestruck by the metaphors used in telling my story: The Creator does have a wonderful sense of dramaturgy. The story always weaves its magic around the circle of my life. Recognizing the truth of a moment has been as exciting as discovering the soul of the universe.

My universe knows no boundaries. No boundaries have been delineated for me, but I somehow feel stifled in my world. This world is new to me, I know that there are other galaxies waiting to be explored, but the incumbent situation has revealed such truths that they are enough to anoint the wounds of my life for the time being. My life has been bleeding profusely for ling time. It would be wrong to place all the blame on myself. I lay past of the burden on the shoulders of my fate that has framed my situation and ruled over my lot.

My lot makes me relies that it was a pleasant walk in the night, it was much better to walk by the night than by the day. The scorching heat was not a part of the night, the night even saved me from the agony of having to bear the burden of my shadow: while the day was full of long and dark shadows, there wasn’t a single one in the night. I do feel a bit lonely in the night, but the company of one’s shadow can be quite intimidating. The walk by the night is in many ways better than the walk by the day. The exercise is so pleasing that the night seems to be walking with me. It is unbelievable how my destiny and the night can saunter together like pilgrims, without talking, merely walking. The two have been in each other’s company for such a long time that I feel that I was better off in the night.

The night never made me a lone traveler. Things were never gloomy. I never went out of the way to do anything to alleviate my alleged loneliness: I didn’t have to. There was the moon in the heavens, there were the stars in the firmament, and moreover, there was the hope of the dawn following the night. The optimism was also accompanied by my experiences that the happiness that life promises to us is never long-lasting. While most of it fades away with time, yet some of it merely lingers for a while like the taste of the mango-juice. The memoirs of the promises that life lives up to too fade away with time.

Time emerges as a brutal monster, but it is not as merciless as it seems to be. Time also does its best to anoint the wounds of the past, it always succeeds in its attempts, things don’t seem to be as miserable as they once were, and the pilgrims continue their trek. Several incidents of the past are like a joke for me now. Each joke reminds me that my life has not been as bad as it is, things were never as gloomy, life was never as gloomy: the adversities that life presents before us are merely a passing phase; happiness forms the continuum. The stretch of happiness is the favourite oasis for the pilgrims trekking across the dull and serene spectrum of my life. Each beautiful moment of my life stands out as an oasis, the lingering freshness of each beautiful moment of my life has somehow diminished the sourness of the painful moments.

The painful moments are like the taste of Frooti that lingers on in my mouth for a while, but eventually fades away giving way to a neutral taste. Life seldom remains neutral for a long time. The pH of my life alternates between the acid and basic pH values as often as the day alternates with the night during one’s lifetime. The taste of mango is a mixture of acid and basic radicals. Life is also a mixture of happy and sad moment: the mixture only adds to the taste. Whatever may be said of our lives, our existence leaves us with no choice but to hang on to the flow of life; this is what makes everyday of our lives exciting. I will enjoy the last drop o my life, I will enjoy the last drop of the juice in Frooti.

THE PASSING MOMENTS

THE PASSING MOMENTS
As I peeled off the paper covering the cake of soap today, I was mesmerized by the fragrance emanating from the paper. I preserved the paper covering to preserve the fragrance till I finally threw it off a few moments ago. I could not have kept it in the form forever, although I wanted to preserve the novelty of the experience. The fragrance is still fresh in my mind, although the physical form is no longer with me.

The physical from of each moment fades in into eternity as and when the next moment takes over. The passage of time has always impressed me with its ubiquitous flow. At times, it is a painful experience for me, while at other moments, it transforms itself into a beautiful enigma. Of course, behind the beautiful form, there lies another form of the passing moments.

The passing moments always leave behind a lasting impression on me. Though the physical form of each moment is evanescent, it vanishes as soon as the next moment manifests itself, yet I have always wanted to capture the abstract form of the entity; although its fragrance that is like that of the new cake of soap, I know that it cannot be captured, I don’t want to lose it. The freshness of each moment is the most beautiful part of it, it fades as time moves ahead, each end every moment of my life fades in to eternity as the next moment arrives. The passage of time pushes the passing moments of my life into my history, the behemoth of time marches ahead.

As time marches ahead, every passing moment of my life fleeing from the clutches of time behaves like young children brought up in a bucolic background chasing rabbits in the field. The passing moments swim in my mind like these children swim in a village pond, these moments splash around my conscious self like kids running around a slushy paddy field and they jump into my vibrant present like these kids jump from trees into ponds. Each child maintains a distinct personality despite the similarity in experience. Each passing moment has left behind a different experience for me, each moment has struck a different chord in the harp of my life, every moment that fades into obscurity has resonated with a different frequency in my life. The difference demands a creative approach to the expression of each moment, novelty of expression is what is sought for in every moment of my life. Novelty at each turn of my life demands creativity to be at its peak. Creativity requires freshness to be in abundance. I’m grateful that each moment of my life is fresh and new, its expression should be novel and new, every moment of my life should be expressed with freshness.

The freshness and novelty of the passing moments of my life is lost like the fragrance of soap in a few moments. I have always wanted to preserve the novelty and excitement of the passing moments. The efforts to preserve the novelty and freshness are called art. My art is simply an effort to preserve the freshness of each passing moment. I have preserved my experiences in the form of words, I have captured the passing moments in words. The effort is aimed at repairing the broken locks of my destiny. I want to rewrite my destiny, they are an effort to make my destiny bite the dust before the passing moments. All my efforts ate in vain because, the ends of the day, the winners are the passing moments.

Every passing moment of my life strikes my intellect with such a sharp force that each and every element of the artillery of my life is shaken. It is the element of surprise in the drams of life that is its soul. The freshness of each impact, the element of surprise in the drama of life is its soul. The freshness of each impact, the element of surprise in the dram of life, doesn’t liner for a long time to come. The freshness and novelty of each moment fades with the passage of time. I do want to capture the innocence with which each moment manifests itself. Each new and novel moment of my life brings a sense of novelty with itself. I want to capture this novelty in words. I want to capture the thrilling moments that would bring Zeenat into the world. These moments would resonate my life with fresh music: the music would be the best ever, it would be my way of declaring my victory over my fate, it would be like having crossed a very busy road.

Crossing the road is an ordeal that I have to undergo everyday. With cars, scooters, and bikes zooming across the road, I fear being run over, but I cross the road all the same because the office stands at the other end of the road. Life presents numerous obstacles in my way everyday, I’m intimidated by the heavy traffic traversing the road, but I cross over all the same; this is the test that
Allah puts me to, I’m intimidated by the problems haunting my existence, but I shall not pause. I have to appear for an examination several times, I am subjected to an examination everyday. The sweet fragrance from the paper covering the soap is enticing enough; though it is evanescent, yet I cross the road all the same.

MY ART

MY ART
All creative pursuits are therapeutic. My passion for writing is like a therapeutic bath in an Italian geyser. My writings are virtually an expression of my inner turbulence. The volcanic eruptions that are the order of the day within me are reflected in my writings. This is the only way I can bring out the lava brewing within me before it can erupt in the form of a volcano.

The volcano erupts, it erupts for everyone, every individual has his tantrum, and every artist has his outbursts demanding an exit to his talents. Curiously, all this is done for the sake of appreciation. An artist creates art partly for the sake of his satisfaction, and partly for appreciation, all artists crave for appreciation, I crave for appreciation.

Appreciation is a typical entity. Some people are openly obvious about the happiness it brings to them, while others try to make you believe that it doesn’t affect them very much. Despite the modest front that the latter put up, somewhere deep in our hearts, all of us want to be praised, we live for it, we crave for it. Appreciation is something that brings a smile on the artists’ face, it makes us feel very good, it makes me very happy. The truth that emerges from all this is that I may be little lost without it. A word of appreciation, a single word, is what I yearn for. It makes me very happy when someone points out that he or she has at least read one of my writings, and my happiness knows no bounds when I’m praised.

My writings are a portrayal of the world within me. They are an attempt to explore the different aspects of my personality. They are a reflection of my inner self. My writings reflect the joyous moments of my life as well as the ironies of my life. They are a window to my life. When someone reads my writings, it gives me immense pleasure and satisfaction at the thought that someone has browsed through my heart’s contents. My writings cannot leave the reader untouched, it is imperative that the reader expresses appreciation. There is nothing better than a few words of praise of me. I yearn of praise as a famished Arab pines for a glass of water. My writings are a reflection of my emotions, these emotions make up my life, through my writings, I want people to appreciate my life.

The bedrock of my life seems to be as vibrant with emotions as the strings of a guitar blazing with the latest music. My writings have been the formula for the chemical reactions that my emotions transcribe o the surface of my heart. My heart misses a beat when these inscriptions are made. The saga of my life takes care to inscribe emotions with every passing moment, every inscription marks a missing heart-beat, but I manage to survive the test of time. The inscriptions on my heart connote my dreams. They are symbolic of my aspirations to soar high in the world. I’m capable of transcribing these engravings on the paper, I thus give a permanent form to my inner thoughts, this is the only way that I can survive the test of time, this is the only way I can thank Allah for this beautiful gift, this is the only way I can bring out my emotions.

My emotions are constantly in a state of flux. They keep changing, new emotions erupt in my heart with the passing moments, new inscriptions are made, new chemical equations are written every day and my heart resonates with fresh music everyday. I’m always open to new sounds, new tunes, new thoughts and new ideas, I don’t seem to have an option but to embrace novelty in my life in whatever form it might be delivered. The expression of these new equations takes a new route, and the music sounds different.

All my writings have a different sound-track because life is so different. My writings are a reflection of the differences between my life and an ordinary life. My writings are tweaked according to my life, but almost anyone can find a reflection of one’s self in my writings. My writings are symbolic, but the emotions that I put forth through tem are real. My writings are an attempt to field my feelings before the world, but everyone can find his or her feelings transcribed when one reads them. I hope you do read them!

THE LORE OF MY LIFE

THE LORE OF MY LIFE
An extremely hot and dry weather is the order of the day these days. This is certainly a change after the biting cold weather of January. Though the worst seems to be over, things seem to be changing, yet a total recovery from the cold spell is quite far off: I still shiver in the wee hours of the morning. There is a crescendo of voices within me saying that I am almost a the end of the worst phase of my life: this could be a mirage, the end may yet be far off, but I remind myself that I’ve very little control over my life.

My life has been through such fire and brimstone that I sometimes wonder at the amazing resilience that I have displayed against the raucous perennial strains of time to dint the fabric of my life. My fate had once made a lot of promises to me that were full of high-flown rhetoric and grand-sounding convictions. I now realise that they were merely an election-manifesto put forth by political parties to incite innocent voters to vote for them. The promises were a part of a deal or a bargain put forth by my fate; some of these promises have been fulfilled, while several are still in the pipeline, they may be kept at some point of time in the future, or they may not. The implicit purpose behind making these promises was, of course, to ensure that I keep marching in a definite direction regardless of whether I emerge as a winner or not.

No one will emerge as a winner at the end of the day, but everyone will win when the next day dawns. The lore of life covered between sunrise and sunset is as coulourful as a rainbow despite the darkness of the night following the sunset. Our lives manage an astonishing variety of roles with aplomb between the two events. Destiny can always be banked upon to enrich our lives with its bag of surprises. The manouveres of destiny are never a surprise for it, although they do alarm us with the element of surprise in our lives: everything has been a conscious decision taken by destiny, everything takes us by surprise. All of us consider ourselves special in the world as the surprises that greet us are quite personal: of course, they don’t seem to affect the larger scheme of things. And yet, the reality that emerges from our lives is that although we don’t perceive ourselves as significant in the drama of life, a mere wayfarer peering closely through the latticed windows of our lives is often taken aback to see how carefully each role has been shaped up. Our efforts to control the drama of life matter a lot, we must do our share of work assigned to us by our destiny, we must execute the decisions of destiny to the best of our abilities despite the truth that each decision taken by our destiny emerges as an expression of the helplessness, anguish, anger, frustration and the fluctuating optimism that we express over our lives.

Our lives are full of fierce and delicate emotions of fear, anxiety and prejudice. Everyone lives almost the same life, everyone has to make some compromises between time and destiny, it is a situation that looms large in the horizon as the tussle between fate and time ensues, the situation is sometimes quite ugly, but when one looks at life as a whole, he ensemble is not that bad. Every life works out to be a work of fiction based on a thousand true-stories; while the individual stories may not sound well, the entire epic of life is not that bad after all.

After all the drama in my life, I now realise that all of it was orchestrated by my destiny. I would be wrong in cursing time for the end that it has brought me to: my life has been trekking along a path shown to it by my destiny. Tradition demands that I should honour the dictates of time; I should keep marching regardless of the end scripted for me: my destiny has scripted a future known only to it.

It would be wrong to curse my destiny for the incumbent spell of bad weather in my life. Time would certainly bring a change in the weather, although my destiny would still remain away from its clutches. I would eventually stop shivering in the morning, the warm weather would set in completely, and the worst would finally be over.

THE CIRCLE OF LIFE

THE CIRCLE OF LIFE
It was 5:45 pm when I got back from the office yesterday. I took off my shoes, offered namaz, and consumed the glass of milk on the table. Everything was the same. I knew that nothing had changed in my world; the canvas of my life lay unravished like a virgin as it was the day before, and yet I knew the very consciousness of my existence in the world had changed everything.

Everything in the world seems to exist in the world for my sake. I’m like a plant tended with dare, unaware of the continuous labour involved for the gardener, but I do have an inkling of the enormous industry at work in the world that goes on unseen everyday so that I might emerge as a winner at the end of the day. My transition to a happier tomorrow seems to be so important that almost everything in the world seems to be pre-occupied with ensuring the happiness of the next day. Despite the awareness of the concerted efforts of the world’s forces in my favour, I’m also conscious of the bipolarity of these forces. While one half of the world seems to have no occupation but to shower problems on me night and day, the other half seems to be busy in solving them after a couple of cycles of sunrise and sunset, but the difference between each sunset and sunrise seems to be so vast that I begin to doubt whether the blazing sun would ever set in the west in the evening, or even whether the night following the sunset would come to an end. The key to sustenance through the night and the scorching heat of the sun has been my persistence. My insistence on marching ahead despite the overwhelming darkness of the night and the sweltering heat of the sun has brought me through a vast distance. The realisation of the vast distance covered seems to assure me that the night would come to an end; the night would certainly come to an end.

The end of the dark and forbidding night would certainly bring an element of change in my life, but it would bring with itself the intolerable heat of the sun. A few alteration s would have to be made to my life that has been wafting along like thistledown in the wind, so that I can embrace the warmth of the sun without any discomfort. Initially, I would have to see the world through squinted eyes because of the blinding glare of the sun, but the change would be welcome after the long, dark and cold night that I have been through.

Throughout the night, I was subjected to a world reigned over by my dreams. Some of these dreams would commute themselves to reality soon, while most of them would return to haunt me for a long time to come. The dreams that come true would be so enticing that I would wish to go to sleep again, but when I think it over again, the real world is much better than the imagined allegories that were a part of the night.

Without the imagined allegories that were a part of the night, my life would be a vast empty room full of nothing. If I peer very closely into every part of my life, I would realise that my fate has scripted several short-stories for me, but these stories could not turn into reality. These stories form an important part of the epic of my life, they have contributed their share to my bliss, and many more stories are in the making! These stories are preserved in the deepest corner of my heart as some of the most memorable moments of my life.

Life comes back a full circle back to where it all started. I was standing in the same place when I returned from the office today, and looked up at the clock----it was 5:45 pm. Nothing had changed since yesterday.

THE SHIELD

THE SHIELD

There was a time when I could bear the torments of fate with considerable ease, I went through the ordeal without any grudge, fate wasn't as cruel at that time. Then things began to change, fate began hurling hail-stones at me, and my life took an ugly turn. These aspects of my life have now been brushed under the carpet by the flow of time; a large part of my life has been blipped out for the sake of sanity of my mind, although several portions of my past still remain intact in my memory. My life has been through and will undergo so many ups and downs that I feel that I have lost interest in life. The wobbly path that my life has been trekking along has been quite uncomfortable; it has certainly initiated a lot of changes in my life. However, the different stages that my life has been through has left me without any wishes. There doesn't seem to be anything worthwhile to ask for after every namaz that I offer. All this emerges despite the realization that the entire show was stage-managed by my fate; I merely played my role of a faithful protagonist. I was sensitized by my fate to see through what was an orchestrated drama, the results of which had been decided even before I was born. My fate held its cards so close to its chest that its tactics took even time by surprise when it finally revealed its cards. The cards revealed a story that was so vibrant that I had to ask myself whether these stories were real or imagined allegories.

These stories threatened to tear the gossamer-texture of the moment that I enjoyed. I did not want to bid farewell to the juncture to which time had brought me. Life had suddenly become so beautiful that I wanted time to pause at the beautiful juncture. The passage of time has always been a powerful blow to me. I was never in favour of giving time the independence to flow on its own, but time moves ahead without a leash. This has made my life a behemoth heading towards and end not known to anyone, no one knows the end.

The end of a journey is the most painful part of the journey. The journey may have been quite rewarding and pleasant, one may not be aware of the vast distance covered as the milestones fly by, but the end of the journey is what one mourns. I mourn even the end of the bus journey that I undertake everyday, let alone the journey of love, or the journey of life coupled with the myriad of problems that it presents everyday.

The problems that the journey of my life presents can always be resolved if I go back to the junction at which I loaded the train of my life with the problems. I wonder why I put on the extra-baggage of problems in the first place. Life was going on as well even at that time. Free from the realities of life that cloud the layman's life, I was quite happy and merry even without the extra-baggage. I have never been a proponent of showing off one's extra-luggage; I wish I could offload it at a junction. This is, of course, an idealized dream that can never come true. The wheel of time refuses to turn anti-clockwise. Time always flows ahead, and I must flow with it.

It would therefore be more logical to devise methods to neutralize the attacks of my fate. I can always harden my palms against blistering as a field-labourer hardens his palms by continuous labour. I can always do my best from committing the same mistake again, although the stand between my fate and myself is stalemated to my fate's advantage: my fate can play the cards that it chooses to, and I can do essentially nothing in response. I have to abide by the rules of the game. I have to be a mute spectator as time flows ahead. I must do something to protect myself; I need a shield against the random attacks of fate.

Fate introduced me to such dire straits that I now feel the need of a shield. Had my destiny not introduced me to the beautiful enigma a I have seen in the past few days, I would not have felt the need of a shield. My fate wanted me to wish for the shield. The cards that fate deals to us from time to time are dealt after a lot of calculations, additions, and subtractions. I ought to honour the dictates of my fate and time. Fate introduces us to adversities in life with a definite purpose in mind. A shield would have been superfluous in my life till now; the cards that my fate dealt before me till now emphasised the superficiality of the shield, but the cards that fate has dealt now sing a different tune: I need a shield.

THE BEST DAYS

THE BEST DAYS
I enjoy an utter carefree state of affairs these days. I seem to have absolutely no responsibilities to burden me. This reminds me of the days when I was a student in Aligarh. The bandwagon of my life was as devoid of any responsibilities as it is now. There certainly was the encumbrance of my academic pursuits those days, I was constantly reminded by my conscience that I have to study, the key to success in life were apparently my books. Only time will tell if my presumption was correct, for I now realise that books are not the only way to success in life.

Life has transformed at several fronts since I left the hostel, many things have changed. My past is almost a dream now; the dream would continue to corral behind me for a long time to come. In a way, life has come a full circle back to the days when I was a student. The difference is that I did have to worry about doing well in the exams at that time, but now I don't have to worry about a single entity in the universe. The books that burdened me with their weight are now gone. I no longer have to worry about doing well in the exams; I don't have to give any. The examinations that I am subjected to now are of a different nature. The best thing is that I don’t have to worry a lot about my performance in the exams now. The results of the exam are pre-determined; everything that is happening or the things that are to happen in my life are a part of a pre-meditated plot. I don’t have to worry about the end result. The results would usher in a lot of changes in my life. The changes would only be a part of the plethora of changes that brought me to the present from the time when I was a student. Several things have changed in my life since I bid adieu to my life as a student.

Life as a student was probably the best part of my life. Things were easy, life was easy. Life did not present itself in as intricate a form as it did in the past few months. Life has not been easy, it never will be. Despite all this, I feel that every event in one's life ought to be celebrated with equal vigour and warmth. Even the tension and turmoil that my life underwent in the past few months would be celebrated. As the bitter part of my life is now behind me, I rejoice and celebrate. The celebration should match that of my student-life.

My student-life was probably the best part of my life. The most beautiful part of my student-life was the time when I fell in love. The infatuation was the greatest part of my life. Life became as colourful as a rainbow. Life gave me another chance to fall in love again a few days back and I now realise that I am better off with the beautiful enigma behind me. I cannot help smile at the myriad of things that could not happen, but I also smile at the dozens of dreams that I saw when I was in love. I don't know if I ought to thank my stars or curse them for the dreams that could not come true. It is bad when one's fate outruns time. I sometimes wonder what would have happened if the duo of fate and time had reached the finishing-line together. Anyway, the discrepancies between the two have left behind some beautiful memories. The memories of the episode are bound to linger about for a long time to come. They shall remind me that my life has not always been as dry and serene. The episode was probably the last in my life. I'm glad that I've preserved in the form of words for Zeenat and the generations to come. I'm sure that Zeenat would appreciate my efforts at preserving some beautiful moments of my life.

Life is such an intricate web of events that the contrast provided by the four worded entity , 'love', is beautiful in itself. Being in love ennobles you. It makes life beautiful. Love is the most beautiful thing that can happen to anyone; everyone falls in love, the rest of the love-story is written by destiny. The episode was a landmark in my existence: not everyone gets a chance to script a utopian end, not everyone ends up as happy and satisfied like me despite the anti-climax that The Creator has scripted for me. The episode was certainly my life's golden period.

The golden period in my life came to an end in a subtle manner. Each drop of deluge of sorrow flowed through my heart when my dreams crashed. I wonder if I ought to be grateful for the end. The end that life has presented before me has made my life all the more beautiful: I don't have to shoulder any responsibilities. I sometimes shudder at the thought of the responsibilities that I would have had to bear had the episode concluded as I wanted it to. I am grateful that the episode did not end in my favour. I don't have to shoulder any responsibilities. Of course, there are other things that are as important and more important than love, but these things never appealed to me as attractive. Worldly matters like money never attracted me with their lustre. I'm not sure how long this period of my life would last. This will come to an end soon, I don't look forward to the end, but I'll surely miss these carefree days all my life, they are certainly the best days of my life.

THE MILESTONES

THE MILESTONES
I've decided to replace my goal with milestones. There are several milestones along the way to the goal. Crossing frontiers seems to be easier as compared to the apparent distant destination. Crossing of each milestone would be celebrated in my life. Each milestone crossed would mark a victory. This is like celebrating one's birthday every year: each birthday marks a milestone in one's life. The road to the goal in my life is punctuated by several milestones.

The milestones in my life seem to be separated by quite a vast distance. The distance could be compared to the echelons of time separating the developments on the history of human evolution. The conquest of each milestone in my life has resonated with a different frequency because they were separated by such a vast distance. Crossing of each milestone has not been easy, but every milestone crossed has been an achievement in itself. The crossing of each milestone has been celebrated in my life.

My life has been driven about quite recklessly by the despotic hands of fate and time: everyone has to make a compromise between fate and time, and so have I. It is bad when one's fate runs away with time, it is worse when one's fate outgrows time. There ought to be a balance between the two. My life seems to be tilted towards the negative side of the balance. Fate has certainly done its best to punctuate the track of my life with countless obstacles. There seem to be a lot of obstacles along the way to the goal: there are a lot of milestones along the way. The journey of my life seems to have a lot of halts en route the destination. I sometimes wonder if I ought to rejoice at the contrast that I find between my life and others' lives. Others seem to have reached their goals with considerable ease. I seem to be the only one who has been lingering about milestones for quite some time. The only consolation is that this might be the definition of beauty in my life.

My life has been an eclectic collection of failures. I seem to have had the honour of embracing failures at every step. Life has brought me before so many failures that I sometimes fear losing all hope. It is a sin, the greatest crime you can offer to The Power that created us to cast away hope, I know. Life has not been so bad after all. I remind myself of the myriad of opportunities of happiness and success that fate has been kind enough to put into my kitty. There have always been moments of joy in my life that have been celebrated. With the passage of time, even our failures, the sadder moments of our lives, find their way into the thesaurus of celebration. I now realise that what was an apparent failure at a point in time in my history, was a blessing in disguise. In this way, almost every event in my life has given way to celebration. The passage of time has worked miracles on what appeared to be failures. These failures have manifested themselves as milestones along the way to the destination. The failures seemed to be fatal wounds to me at one point of time, but time heals all wounds, things don't seem to be as bad once time applies its balm over the wounds. Things change, and with this, changes the definition of the bitter past.

My past is almost a dream now. Like all dreams, it too shall eventually fade into obscurity with the passage of time. Although my past is bound to haunt me for a long time to come, I now have an opportunity to laugh at the hundreds of things that could have happened, and even at the assortment of things that could not happen. My past would be an asylum that I can resort to whenever I feel intimidated by the present. This would be escaping from the realities that life presents before me, I know, but the shelter would have to be sought for whenever I am not particularly thrilled by the sky and the sun.

The sun has been shining so fiercely on my that I desperately need a shelter. I want to escape the sweltering heat of the sun, I want to get away from the hot and humid weather that would be the order of the day in a few months. I have a long way to go, my goal is quite far off, the weather is not going to be pleasant, but I will take life piecemeal now: I've replaced my goal with milestones.

JAB SHE COMES

JAB SHE COMES

I love the rains. Though the dark clouds do intimidate me, yet I enjoy the shower that emanates from the congregation. It would rain when she enters my life. It would not be a mere drizzle, nor a thunderstorm or a hailstorm, but a pleasant rainy session.

The rain would, I hope, wash away the sediments of the past settled over my life. The rains would give way to a clear sky and there would be a full moon shining in the heavens at last. The night would brighten up when our hearts would meet. The confluence would produce the best music ever. She would be a major factor in helping me get over all the different escapades dotting my history. Although my fate has orchestrated a future known only to it, I sometimes wish I knew who would hold the reins of my life.

My life would be lit up by the radiance emanating from her eyes-----a future different from that orchestrated for me by the devils doing a belly dance over my destiny. The exigencies of my fate made me make a lot of wishes after throwing a coin into the wishing well. Her eyes would make me wish for many more things. I wish she would love me so much that I can forget the past. My past is densely populated with bitter experiences. I hope she helps me forget all of these. I want her to love only me. Her love would have the power to bloom flowers in my life. Her entry into my dull and serene life would bring about changes that are seen in a dry and arid desert after a shower of rain: my life would bloom with flowers. There would be a plethora of flowers down the avenues that I would walk with her.

I would walk with her for quite a part of my life, the walk would be through the arcaded corridors of the night as well as the fields that are brightly lit by the sun. Her eyelids would be covered with stars, the moon would no longer be required to brighten up the night. She would have the potential to make my life live. Her entry into my life would be celebrated---it would rain.

YOU

YOU

The sky was overcast with dark clouds as I stepped out of the office. They clouds withheld the warmth of the sun. A thunderstorm was in the making. The rain-drops blessed the earth while I was on the bus.

The bus shielded me from the storm just as you have shielded me from the intricate details of my destiny. You have been with me through thick and thin. Life without you seems to be as dry and serene as in a desert. The desert is populated with cacti. The cacti are a source of inspiration for me: life still exists in the desert, life would still go on without you, but with you, life would be different.

The difference would be pronounced quite loudly if only you were with me. Miracles seem to be in the making when you are with me. You rare the only person who can make a difference in my life, you can work miracles in my life; you are the only person who can make my life beautiful. I cannot seem to be able to think beyond the aura that surrounds you, the key to survival in the world is to diversify, I ought to move ahead in life, I know, I ought to look at the dozens of avenues that fate has opened before me, but my life enters a void as it emerges from your presence, you seem to be the opium for me: there seems to be no life beyond you.

You have been such a good friend; you have been a soak-pit for the deluge of emotions that that emanate from my heart. You have been the queen reigning over my heart. You have been living in my heart for a long-long time
I hope you don't leave it for a longer time to come. You have cared for me, you have loved me.

I was probably wrong in assuming that you have bid adieu after tracking on the same path with me for such a long time. You can never do this to me, you have been such a good friend that I wonder at the amazing patience that you have displayed. You have shown a lot more than patience because bearing the burden of friendship with me requires a lot more than patience, I know. I only wish there was a manner in which I could show you how grateful I am.

I am sailing in the ship of life where the weather gets rough at times. At these times, I wish there was a safe asylum. You are a safe asylum; I hope you remain with me forever and a day. You have been with me throughout the day, all through the sultry heat of the sun.

The sun was out in the horizon by the time the bus got to where I wanted to go, it had stopped raining, and I basked in the warmth of the sun as I walked out of the bus.

THE LAST BOW

THE LAST BOW
The final farewell to my dreams is going to be the toughest part of the deal that my fate made with me when it introduced me to her. My grief would flow for my eyes, but one has to move ahead in life leaving behind the rudiments of the past. The farewell would remind me of the myriad of things that could have happened, and those that could not happen. Though I had a good time thinking of her, yet I don't seem to have had enough of the lady. She seems to dominate my thoughts all round the day, all through the night, seven days a week, and all the 365 days in an year. I find in myself the plight of travelers who are drugged in dingy hotels in coastal cities like Mumbai or Chennai and carried to nearby ships to discover, once they come back to their senses, that they are out at sea and are forced to work as laborers on board to stay alive.

I'm forced to harbour her thoughts to stay alive. I simply cannot seem to have enough of her. My life seems to be filled with energy and warmth when I think of her. Thinking of her acts as a magic potion for me. I must think of her, I must dream of her, I must of my best to stay afloat in the sea of emotions. My dreams are bound to crash when she bids adieu, I know. The resurrection of m dreams for the doldrums shall not be easy, but it would have to be done. This will take some time, but I'm sure that I would feel better with the passage of time.

Time would show me that my love-story was merely another work of fiction based on a thousand true stories. My story is not different from that of the dozens of young couples I find connodling in McDonald's, Pizza Hut, or in public parks, although I did not wear my hear on my sleeve like any of them.

Only a few of hem would find eternal bliss in each other's company, most of them would have to make a compromise with their fate and time. Unlike the last lot, I'm certainly not in the mood to capitulate my fate to time. I remind myself that the problem is partly my creation. I simply cannot find avenues to tame the monster that I myself created to escape the perils of time and my existence. My dependence on my dreams has certainly eroded my ego's dominance over myself. There doesn't seem to be a way out of the mess.

The mess has brought forth the truth that the alliance between my fate and time never gave me any happiness. I've been battling against the coalition for quite some time, but the tussle has only produced scars on the surface of my heart. It is time that I bid a final farewell to all this, it is high time that I stopped thinking of her, it is time that I stopped writing on her, it is time that I moved ahead in life, it is time to say goodbye, it is time for the last bow.

THE OTHER WOMAN

THE OTHER WOMAN

The advent of another woman in my life seems to be the only solution to the crisis created by the turn of events leading to the incumbent predicament. The void that has been created in my life badly needs to be punctuated. I must do my best to replace the good by the best. Fate chose to withdraw the good from my life; the withdrawl has created a crisis. The crisis does not connote the end of my dreams, although some of them have certainly been shattered to pieces by my obstinacy against taking a turn in the road. She was the beacon of hope and change for me, but I should now take the turn in the road and keep marching: the persistent always cope better.

The persistent do have a better destiny inscribed for them as compared to those who give up easily. I refused to take the turn in the road, I could not gather enough courage to take the turn, I gave up. I did not for a while think of the dozens of avenues open before me when she became a part of my history. The transition did not take more than a few minutes, and she walked out of my destiny without any remorse. It was a big event for her, as all marriages are. The traditions of her family, the peripheral boundaries of her paternal residence, the petty issues surrounding her existence all ceased to apply themselves to her. She wasn't even aware of my feelings for her; I could never gather the courage to tell her. The shehnai sounded a final farewell to my dreams. The event proposed to close all the amorous chapters of my life for ever. She left my life in one stroke. I had reached the end of the road.

The road doesn't have a factual end; there are only bends in the road. Love never ends, it simply assumes another form. Sooner or later, I'll have to wrap up my dreams in the foils of my history. When we face failure, the key is to begin afresh by sidelining negative thoughts. I would have to begin again, it shall not be very difficult, but only the other woman in my life would be able to fish me out of this mess. She would shield me from the aftermath of the eclipse. The remote celestial event would bring the curtains rolling down over my dreams. I'm aware that the full moon in the heavens tonight is only an apparition, it shines with the light of the sun, it has a lot of hills dotting its face, I can only do my best to retain the radiance let out by the full moon.

The full moon would ultimately fade into the ether, but the moon would not be sorry for it. It would find a fresh life in the form of a crescent. I too should not blame my stars for what was not inscribed in my destiny. I ought to honour the dictates of time. The full moon in the heavens tonight is not without blemishes and scars, she too is not very good looking, she is not good looking at all, the other woman in my life would also not be without faults. She would show me that life does not mean reflecting light, but shining by self-----the sun would finally shine in my life.

THINGS ONLY CHANGE

THINGS ONLY CHANGE

Nothing ever ends, things only change. A bend in the road is certainly not the end of the end of the road, unless you fail to take a turn. What appears to be the end is merely a bend in the road. The road is so busy that traversed all round the year, quite a heavy traffic finds its way over the road. The road is trampled ruthlessly day and night.

I go to sleep every night, and every night a fresh dream embraces me. Each dream has a different story to tell. I met her in such a dream. She was not very good looking, she wasn't good looking at all. Sometimes I wonder how she found her way into my dreams. I wonder what attracted me to her. This was a part of my destiny, en route the road that leads to the present.

The road that brought me to the present shall usher a lot of changes into my dull and serene life. I rejoice at the thought that the guided tour from January to December 2009 is going to turn the wheels of my destiny in a ruthless manner. This could be a time when my fate takes a novel turn every single day of the year. Something exciting would replace the morbid and dry life that I've been leading, I hope.

I hope that the series of changes initiated into my life do bring some amount of cheer into my life. The journey of my life seems to be punctuated by prolonged periods of darkness. The night seems to be longer than eternity, but dawn is surely round the corner, changes are slowly but surely settling into my life.

The changes are sure to break the eloquent silence of the night. The tranquility of the night shall surely be broken, my perception of the bend in the road is all that matters.

A bend in the road is certainly not the end of the road unless I fail to take a turn, I remind myself. The bend certainly does not denote the end of my dreams. Rather, this could be the beginning of yet another dream, even more pleasing and heart-warming. A new and fresh dream takes form every night I go to sleep.

The last time that I went to sleep, my dreams brought me before such changes equations of life that I began to wonder at the bends that life presents before us. Life is such an intricate maze of twists, turns and bends that I began to feel the importance of her presence in my life. She walked into my life in such a subtle manner that I wasn't even aware of her presence in my life for quite some time. Her presence changed several things in my life. I began to love life, everything around me became beautiful, the world was formed yesterday, I was born the very day, things were fresh and new. Her exit from my life has made me lose interest in life. Love seems to be the only entity that can reignite the embers of life, only love can rejuvenate my life. Being in love has been such a beautiful experience that I wish I could fall in love again.

I badly want to fall in love again, I want to sleep again, I want to dream again, I want to forget all about her. The experience has been quite exciting; the infatuation has been quite strong, I'm grateful to Allah for the chance that He gave me at an age when life enters a sedentary stage. All said and done, I'm considerably happy that life brought me before another infatuation, but I seem to have lost interest in life now that it is all over. The beads of the rosary are now scattered. It would be some time before things resume normalcy. She has certainly left a void in my life.

Life has not ended yet, life has just begun. This was merely another bend in the road, and not the end of the road. This was merely a halt in the long journey of life----- many more stations are yet to come: nothing ever ends, things only change.

SHE

SHE
The sun had quite disappeared by the time I reached the end of the road. Time was within semicolons of inking an agreement with my destiny when I realised that I had lost the battle. Time had taken up cudgels against my fate: I had lost. Things did not turn out the way I thought they would.

They would have taken some steps in my favour, but my destiny has something else in store for me. The looks in their eyes did promise something, I'm grateful to them for the attention that they gave me when everyone else looked at me with contempt, hatred, and suspicion. These moments would be cherished as some good ones for the reset of my life. Every moment of my life has had a different soundtrack, whether it is a big event, like when I got my first salary, or a grand stretch where nothing happened, everything resonates with a different music. The music produced by the attention that they gave me transplanted me to eternity. It could be that I was wrong in gauging the depth of love that I saw in their eyes. The love that I saw in their eyes served as a rocket launcher for my emotions.

My emotions found themselves soaring to the zenith. My life went streaking like a comet along the path shown by my destiny. The infatuation certainly changed everything in my life. Life became beautiful. Everything around me was whitewashed with everything good and beautiful. The zenith to which my emotions were pushed was not new. My life has been an eclectic collection of zeniths and nadirs thrown my way by the flow of time. My feelings for her pushed me to a level higher than the one reserved for Romeo. Like every young lover, I too dreamt of a perfect 'the end' to my love story, but fate had scripted a tragic anti-climax for me. Something exciting awaits me at the other end of the road, I know. I'll have to come to grips with the hard choices that lie ahead for me before I can move ahead. I know that I would have a lot of choices.

The choices that lie ahead do not seem to be enough to curb my soaring emotions. My emotions are in a transit. My emotions have been bristling with my destiny in a bid to transform the landscape of my life. I made a lot of wishes after throwing a coin into the wishing-well. The sedan of life has brought me to eh point where a lot of my wishes have been granted. Fate has certainly been kind enough to grant some of my wishes. I can't grumble against my fate for the wishes that have not been fulfilled.

Fulfillment of wishes is, after all, not what can always be expected of time and fate. Every life is a compromise between fate and time. I too had to make a lot of compromised with my fate when I had the accident. Ht tradition is an eternal one, but when time and fate come to common terms on an issue, the confluence gives rise to some beautiful images.

The beautiful images that her thoughts conjured up shall linger in my memory for a long time to come. They will remind me of the many things that could have happened, that would have happened, that could not have happened, that would not have happened, and that shall happen. They also remind me that I still have a very long way to go; I still have many frontiers to cross. Every milestone of my life would be celebrated. Everyone lives almost the same life with almost similar crests and troughs, the difference is with the celebration. The sun might have disappeared from the horizon, but this makes very little difference for me because a round yellow moon is rising before me, though its rays have not yet out mastered those from the west. I rejoice at this.

JAI HO!

JAI HO!
The imli trees, laden with their new and humid leaves, are now suffering more damage than during the strongest winds of the monsoon. A koel perched on a gulmohar is trying to sing a song; the wind blew its feathers till they stood on their end.

The end is certainly drawing closer. It is a sad and hopeless moment for me. The sad and hopeless obstacles in life are welcome in a sense for they enable us to look with indifference upon the cruel satires that fate loves to throw our way. These obstacles make me realise that losing is more satisfying than winning.

Winning the battle is not always the goal. Fighting against the obstacles has been the best part. An encounter with the obstacles taught me how much I love her. As my sight grew accustomed to the first blinding halo kindled about me by love, I began to perceive what a strait I was in. The dire conditions make me wish I had never known her, but I retract my wish the very next moment considering it to be a brutal one. My infatuation has been a great experience. I thank Allah for this. This has proved to be the strongest in my life.

My life is like a Bollywood movie---the first half without any action or conflict, and the second when things come to a sudden head. It is in the second part of my life that things have begun to happen. Life began to move on the wheels of fate, I felt the strong passion of love, and I learnt several secrets that pushed my emotions to the zenith. It is time to bury these secrets burning in my heart as memoirs of some good days. They have served to create lesions in my life. These lesions are not obvious, but they hurt when they are touched. They are occasionally touched by time, and I do wince with the pain. The nuts and bolts of time shall eventually tighten their hold on me, I know. I shall become the slave of my destiny and so shall my life.

My life has a lot in store for me, I know. The exact composition of my future shall remain a mystery till time unfurls its red carpet for me. I would welcome the surprises that fate throws in to my share. I sometimes wish I knew what surprises await me at the other end of the rainbow. I console myself with the belief that pleasure known beforehand is half-wasted. The very element of surprise is the soul of the drama of life. The latticed windows of life let through huge quantums of surprise through them everyday. We only have to be there to enjoy all the surprises. Life says 'Jai ho!' at each and every step, we only have to lend an ear to life.

THE VOID

THE VOID
I was looking out of the window that night. A full moon was shining in the heavens. The moon depicted a small image of itself in each of my eyes. Anyone might have said that I was thinking of her. I had her image in my eyes. I can do little but be content with these thoughts now that the equations have changed.

The change that greeted me at the beginning of the year was a prelude the myriad of changes that would greet me for a long time to come. The change initiated me to believe that a victory at one front would translate as a victory at the other front too. It turned out that although I had won the battle at one front, I had lost miserably at the other. It is time to celebrate the victory, although the victor may not get the desired reward. The reward still attracts me with an equal zeal, but I will have to be content with whatever little came my way. On second thoughts, tracking along the path was the reward in itself. The current of my feelings is too pronounced to admit it.

It is quite hard to put in words, but the experience has been like getting on to a bus and getting off two stops later. A lot has changed since I got on to the bus. Sparrows have stopped building nests in the ventilator to my room, the weather has changed a lot, a lot has changed. She has certainly left a void in my life.

Life was never more beautiful than when I could call her mine. Life had just begun. The difference between my past and my present is that I now carry a lot of her abstract thoughts with me. The abstraction is bound to torment me for a long time to come. It would remind me of the myriad of things that could have happened, that would have happened, that would not have happened, and that could not happen. It is going to be hard to forget all this.

This would certainly go down the annals of my history as another failed infatuation. This was not the first and this shall certainly not be the last: many more stations are yet to come, I know. All said and done, this has left me without any wishes: there doesn't seem to be anything to wish for now. There seems to be nothing worth while to ask for from Allah after every namaz that I offer. All my wishes have been granted. There seems to be very little to ask for now. I remind myself that I myself wished for the eclipse. The remote celestial event would finally declare the end. The shehnai would signal the final partition of our destinies.

Our destinies brushed against each other for a while, but they have to go different ways now. The difference would be pronounced quite sharply a long time before the mehndi settles on her palms. The difference between our present and future would be clear in a few days from now. Life would soon deal different cards to us. The differences could even lead to feelings of contempt for each other. I dread the times when I would hate her, or she would hate her. A quiet exit from the stage would be more dignified. I look forward to the time when I can quit the stage. The future has something else in store for me, someone better, I know.

I know that I would fall head over heels in love again, life would be beautiful once more. The passage of time doesn’t hurt me any more now. The air-conditioners in the office are on. The weather is getting warm as the summer sets in. The warm weather would be welcomed after the long and cold winter. My life is in for a change.

THE SHOW MUST GO ON

THE SHOW MUST GO ON

The premeditated plot of the theatre captures our fancy for the sole merit of surprise. The element of surprise in the plot is the soul of the drama. The element of surprise in the drama of life perplexes even the protagonists. The surprise is brought about by the ruthless flow of time. Time continues its adamant march towards a future not known even to the protagonists. My future remains a mystery to me. The passage of time threatens to destroy the beautiful mosaic before me. Time shall continue its obstinate march, the beautiful image before me would shatter. The beautiful music in my ears shall ultimately die out; the last strains shall ultimately fade into the eternity. I find myself desperately looking for a silver lining in the clouds.

The clouds dominate the horizon. I find in myself the pitiful picture of a man standing in the very focus of sorrow. I'm aware that the transformation of my beautiful dream into a nightmare shall take no time. The change would be so subtle that I would not realise that things have changed for us. My beautiful dream shall ultimately fade into the dim mists of antiquity.

The mist of antiquity shall remind me that this was a dream that never had a concrete existence. My beautiful dream can never be shattered because it never was. The situations that gave rise to the beautiful dream shall change with time. Time shall continue marching ahead, and things shall change. The warm weather shall give way to the hot weather. This would be followed by a very humid one. The cold weather would complete the cycle----the cycle commonly known as life.

Life is such a beautiful kaleidoscope of events and yet the assortment of images that is presents before us seldom catches our fancy. The beauty of life is lost in the awe and amazement that the turn of events present themselves in. I hope that the ensuing state of affairs shall alternate with good weather.

The weather is getting warm as the summer sets in. The warm weather is welcomed after the cold weather that was the order of the day for the past several months. This is a reminder that things shall not always remain gloomy in my life. Mirth shall alternate with grief. There is always the assurance that Allah still runs the show in the world, He still holds the threads guiding us.

MY LAST LOVE

MY LAST LOVE

I'm not sure how, why and when I fell in love with her. This was probably because I needed a concrete reason to push ahead in life. It would be best for me to forget all about her now, but this proves how one of my wishes was granted. I had always wanted to fall in love again, if only for a while. The brevity of the episode that ended just now ought to satisfy me.

My satisfaction would have known no bounds had my affection been reciprocated. To be loved to madness---this has been my great desire. Love is to me the one cordial that can drive away the loneliness eating into my life. I long for the abstraction called passionate love more than any particular lover.

No lover has probably experienced the crests and troughs of emotions that I have experienced. Se did not dominate over my thoughts for a long time, she did not hold sway over my life for a long time, yet the few moments that I spent thinking of her have been the best of my life. The few moments of ecstasy that I experienced while thinking of her have contributed a lot to my happiness. A blaze of love and extinction is better than a lantern glimmer of the same that would last long years.

The long years that I have spent in the world have brought me face to face with several episodes, each stronger than the last. I'm not sure how and when all this started. I had always been a lad of whom something was expected, but it is bad when your fate outruns time. My fate began its reign in a subtle manner when I had the accident. It changed the entire course of my life. I began to appreciate aesthetics rather than the stoic logic of science. The most important change was that I began to shirk the science that governs the society. A man who advocates aesthetic effort and depreciates social effort is only likely to be understood as someone to whom social effort is a stale matter. Social effort did become a stale matter for me till the time that I fell in love with her. The awareness that I was in love changed everything.

Everything became beautiful. Life became beautiful. I began to love her. The world around me was suddenly whitewashed with everything good and beautiful. I could now change every defect to my advantage. I began to suffer from a pain typical to those struck by Cupid. The pain was more in the mind than in the body. Gradually, I began to enjoy the pain of Cupid's darts. I enjoyed thinking of her. I badly wish the joy and ecstasy were eternal. I wish I could capture her thoughts for eternity. Her thoughts are invested with such emotional power that I find myself surging to the heavens when I think of her. I will have to descend to a lower level sooner or later, I know. The sooner I come back to earth the better it would be for me. The picture that life has painted for me on earth is certainly quite dull and serene. The morbidity of my life without her reminds me that she entered my life to add a bit of mirth to my life that was passing through a tunnel. Her thoughts are still with me. I would not trade anything in the world for them.

THE CELEBRATION OF BEING ALIVE

THE CELEBRATION OF BEING ALIVE
The time form Christmas to New Year is one of joy and celebration every year. The television screen is splattered with messages symbolizing the dawn of happiness. The weather is also not that bad. Flowers bloom all over.

The blooming flowers are symbolic of the fact that my fate has a lot more in its kitty. My fate is sure to push me in the company of fame, fortune, and controversies. My first salvo against fate began with my accident. I had to surmount incredible odds to reach the contemporary position. The battle is not yet over, there are bound to be hundreds of obstacles, but the equations have changed now. The resurrection of my dreams from the doldrums is certainly going to take some time. Of course, there is enough reason to celebrate despite the doleful aura.

The doleful aura reminds me of the good times in my life. She crept into my life through the arcaded corridors of time in so subtle a manner that her presence in my dull and serene life was unnoticed for a long time. Then things began to change. I began to find comfort from the darker portions of my life in her thoughts. The gloomy thoughts that had been plaguing me for a long time could be countered by thinking of her. I could now win the tirade against the grim portions of my life. Her thoughts had the power to make me wish to be a part of the idealized celluloid world where things turned out well in the end.

The end is gradually, slowly, but surely coming closer. I can do very little but watch the show as my dreams proceed to become alien. The old rules---of tradition, values, family links and courtesy----would cease to apply themselves to her. A crystal ball would not be required to see the dismal future that awaits me. My spirits would be in the doldrums long before the confetti has been cleared away, the streamers have been packed, the mehndi on her hands has dried up, and the festive spirit caught the last bus home. I would find myself scrambling for cover even as the dark clouds prepare to burst over my head.

The cloud-burst is sure to have its repercussions for quite some time. My preparedness is bound to be helpful in tiding the crisis. The crisis would eventually give way to another beautiful episode, probably better than the latter. At the end of the day, I would realise that there are two flowers where I thought that there was only one, perhaps there are three or four, or any number as good as the first. I would come to discover another part of myself----the part that can celebrate the best portions of life. The celebration of being alive is, after all, living.