...And It Rained!

Usually, I like beating around the bush before I actually address the topic but this time I’ll get straight to the point. It has rained for two days straight - the last day of February and the first day of March. Hasn’t anyone wondered why? What if it is a sign? I don’t believe in these kinds of things though. Nature is unpredictable, circumstances are uncertain and as humans, when it works for us, we think that it is the will of some divine force working beyond the mortal realm. Yet, when such things manifest themselves at the precise moment, it can prove to be fatally wonderful.

There has been quite an uproar these past few days regarding the BJP-led government’s plan to lay waste to a green patch in Aarey Milk Colony to make room for the Metro Car Shed and the Metro Line 3. It didn’t take time for protestors to gear up with an arsenal of signboards and rallies. Anyone in their right mind would. If you’ve been to Aarey you know how beautiful the place is, especially during the rains. Imagine the serenity of that place being destroyed completely by the construction of the Metro Line 3. It is unacceptable. If you’re brave enough to wander off in Aarey, you will never be disappointed by what you’ll find in there. There is always something more to see. There is always something more to do. There have even been times when nature has thrown in a treat for visitors. It is the most beautiful place within city limits. To safeguard the scenic divinity of this place, there was going to be a protest held in Aarey on the 1^st of March… and as fate would have it, it rained… revealing something amazing. The rain brought out the true beauty of Aarey. The lush greenery, the cool breeze, that nostalgic smell of wet soil and that amazing feeling you get only when it rains… each breath of fresh air ushered in a new feeling of euphoria. Even if you drove past Aarey, it rejuvenated you. The trees were emitting eternal frequencies letting us know why we need greenery… why we need trees and why we need fresh air.

Trees are a part of nature just like all of us. We’re all the same, we are all connected. Cutting down a tree is no different from chopping someone’s hand off. Yet, we find ourselves willfully hacking away at something that cannot react. The trees couldn’t protest themselves but nature took care of its own… it gave people a reason, rather, it reminded them what seeing even a single green patch can do for the human mind and soul. 

Miracle

I never really believed in miracles. What are miracles? Is it some mysterious person in a robe who just walks up to a blind guy, puts some mud on his eyes and restores his vision? Or is it someone who can walk on water or give you an unlimited supply of cloth when you’re being stripped by your evil cousins? I really don’t know. I never believed in miracles and I’m sure neither do you… unless you have stumbled upon that fateful day when you didn’t study for an exam but somehow managed to pass. That my friend, most probably was either divine intervention or just sheer luck! Then how do we contemplate miracles? How do we define it? Where is a miracle when you need one? Where are these miracles that the scriptures speak of when an earthquake hits a city or a school gets blown up by fanatics or when children murder their parents over petty things or brothers kill each other over money or when a woman is being raped in a radio-taxi? It simply isn’t there.

Most of us believe that miracles are something flashy, like a ray of light that falls from the sky and solves everything! Most of us contemplate miracles as something extraordinary. We all wish that a deity will descend majestically from the sky in human form and eradicate all the suffering and hardships of the human race… in my honest opinion, that’s just asking too much! We are so blinded by our predetermined notion of miracles that we fail to see the miracles which happen on a day to day basis. Imagine being a homeless person, wandering through the cold concrete of the city with barely a rag over your shoulders to cover the thin layer of skin that’s clinging to your bones from the constant cool breeze. You’re shivering and you’re lonely. You have nothing in this world except for a begging bowl. You want to cry but you don’t even have tears because you’ve shed them all the previous night. You’ve been hungry for a couple of days and you can barely walk an inch. Then suddenly, you feel someone standing before you. That someone offers you a warm smile… then gives you food and water. Just when you thought it was all over, just when you had given up… you were saved. That’s a fucking miracle. When you’re having the worst day possible, you know nothing can change your mood and someone comes out of nowhere and just cheers you up – that’s a miracle! When a person steps out of a coma after years and finds his loved ones still there waiting for them – that’s a miracle. There many examples. There are many stories. Miracles such as these happen on a daily basis. Don’t look in the divine, mystic or extraordinary to find miracles… look into each other.

Maybe I was foolish like most other people to believe that miracles have to be majestic. I never realized that a human itself is a miracle or in the words of Dr. Manhattan, “a thermodynamic miracle”. This miracle of life is so common that we forget it is a miracle and choose to make it seem so mundane and worthless. What were the chances of your parents meeting, falling in love and giving birth to you - A million in one perhaps? Yet, somewhere, coincidentally or intentionally, they met, they fell in love or they just married and they copulated. Countless sperms just rushing towards a single egg and it was you who finally made it out from all that chaos. You were born. You were given the gift of life and the ability to create another just like you. That’s a miracle – Your life is a miracle. Each one of you has it in you as you live, as you breathe and as you think. From all the suffering, the hatred, the hardships, the cruelty, negligence, ignorance and the constant struggles between good and evil – a form as perfect as yours was created. If you don’t believe me, get up right now and ask your parents what they felt the first time they held you in their arms.

If you’re reading this, just know that you weren’t a coincidence. You weren’t a mistake. You’re a living, breathing miracle. Live like it and spread your kindness, spread your love, share your thoughts and watch real miracles happen! Remember, in today’s world, even a random act of kindness is a miracle!  

Summer Breeze

The warm summer breeze gently grazed my face as I walked an eerie path that was dressed in grey. I came here looking for her. She was the sunlight that ushered in bright rays which pierced through the thick black clouds of the world I was raised in. There was no one before or after her that could do that. Everyone always wanted something from you. Everyone met you or spoke to you only because you had something that they wanted. It was either friendship, money or some materialistic desire that only you could quench. She was different. She never desired anything but my love and acceptance. My heart flew out to her because she accepted me for who I was.

How do you know who are ones worth fighting for unless you know that they themselves are willing to fight for you? She did. She fought for me. We fought alongside. She is the most beautiful woman I have ever met. We shared so many memories under the sun. When the breeze would dance around her and lift those soft black curls while my hands were tightly wrapped around her slim waist with our eyes locked onto each other as we stumbled into such warm embrace and our lips would meet. No matter how many times we kissed… it always felt like the first time. Whenever she is beside me I feel complete. She is my greatest strength.

I felt a hand on my shoulders and it sent jolts down my spine. I could feel the blood rush faster in each and every vein within my body. I was emitting vibrations close to that of an adolescent boy in love. I turned back with a smile and saw reality stare me in the face with a grim look.

“Dad, you ran away again…”

“One cannot deny the place where ones heart wishes to flee.” I said.

“She’s no longer here…”

“Says who?” I asked.

My son kept staring at the tombstone before me. Maybe I had wandered off too far to even remember that she was no longer with me.

“It has been thirty years since mom passed away. I find it hard to deal with too but you must understand.”

“We had made a promise to stay together forever, son. I don’t expect you to understand till the day your time comes. I really loved your mother.”

“I loved mom too… but she’s gone and we need to accept that.”

“She isn’t gone anywhere, you fool! She has always been beside me, protecting and guiding us… our family like she always did. No matter how many thanks or how many flowers I leave her, it will never be enough to express the gratitude I have for her.”

We walked back home knowing that I would come here again. A breeze snuck its way around my ear; in that breeze I heard her voice saying the same things she said before the Lord took her away from me… “I’ll love you forever!”

The Looking Glass

I was walking back home on a chilly winter morning. I had woken up with this immense, overwhelming feeling of loneliness and despair. Maybe it was just the weather. It was cold and the clouds seemed darker than usual. With every year that passed, the clouds kept getting darker and darker. Maybe I was still brooding over my fight with Amanda although it was so long ago. I saw an old man sitting on a bench. He looked tired. Before I could even smile and greet him, he asked me to assist him. He had forgotten where he lived but had an address written on a piece of paper. Along the way we engaged in deep conversation. Much to my surprise, he could read me like a book. Soon enough, we had reached the address mentioned on that little piece of paper. It was a nice house or at least looked pretty good from the outside. He invited me to come in and have a drink with him. I couldn’t refuse that man’s warm gesture so I accepted. I reckoned I could use a drink or two.

I followed him in. It wasn’t a bad place at all. I noticed that no one was around. It felt like I had been here before. Perhaps my house was just as quiet as this one.

“Do you live here all by yourself, old man?” I asked.

“Yea… I do now. I wasn’t always alone though…” he said as he moved his hand over a dusty shelf to pick up a bottle of scotch.

“You prefer scotch too?” I asked.

“On days as cold as this, yea I do. I’ve always loved scotch!” he said with a smile as he kept two glasses on the table.

As we continued our conversation, I couldn’t help but notice that we had a lot in common. We liked scotch. We liked bacon and both of us lived alone with only our furniture and portraits to keep us company.

“Do you have a woman, lad? Are you married or something?” the old man asked as he swallowed his peg.

“I was with this woman”, I replied, “but then she left me. I’m still in love with her and I’m still trying but she won’t come back no matter how hard I try. We had this terrible argument and I know I should have apologized before it was too late but now she won’t listen to me.”

“You know son,” he said, “I’ve lived through countless horrors in my life. I mean I saw it all. I lived through war, you know, where you take a gun, running through the battlefield… shooting round after round with things and comrades blowing up around you. It was terrible. All you know is that there is an enemy and you got to take him down. You’re putting your life at risk. There is no guarantee whether you will survive or die.” He swallowed another peg. “Yet… I found dealing with war a lot easier than dealing with love.”

“Why do you say that?” I asked keen on knowing what his thoughts were.

“I had a wife… she was beautiful. She was a gem of a person too. When she walked in a crowd, you could see her from miles away, that’s how much she stood out. The first time I laid eyes on her, I knew she was the one. You could drown in her deep eyes. When I married her, I was the happiest guy in town. She brought light into this dull house. When she was around, it would seem so lively. We would fight but I’d do my best to make it up to her. Although I was hesitant, I had to kick the ego back a bit and apologize. Hell! When you love someone, you love someone! You can’t do a damn thing about it!” He swallowed another peg.

“T-That’s true.” I said with half a smile. I was thinking about my own relationship. I could understand what the old man was trying to say. “What happened then?” I asked inquisitively.

“We were still young. She had a job, I had a job. This one day, we had a huge argument. I totally blew the lid. We yelled as loudly as we both could and we left for work with that bad mood still lingering in the air. We came home; we didn’t eat dinner together that night. We didn’t sleep together that night. The same thing happened the next day. I couldn’t take it anymore. So I thought when she’d come home from work, I’d surprise her. I bought her favorite cake, wine and flowers. I waited patiently. It was late. I still waited patiently. Then…” he paused, “I got a call from an unknown number,” a single tear rolled down his cheek, “The person on the other end said that my wife had died in an accident on the road. She didn’t make it alive. They couldn’t save her… she had left this world and she left me. I wasn’t even with her in the hospital. I didn’t get to hold her one last time. I didn’t even get a chance to apologize to her. If I had only said something sooner, this would have never happened…”

I listened silently as the drop of tear rolled down his chin.

“I never married again. I just couldn’t bring myself to. I missed the sound of her voice. I missed the smell of her hair. I missed her warm touch. I missed everything about her. I had no children. I had no wife. I ended up living alone. Loneliness became my friend. The dark corners of this house became my comfort. I was all alone. I didn’t mind the loneliness. I knew anyways that she was the only one I truly loved and I only wanted to spend my life with her. I just wished I had the chance to meet her once more and apologize… that’s all… I just wanted to hear her say that she forgives me and loves me but I never got that luxury…”

I looked at him. I had nothing to say. He had grown so old, all alone. His wrinkles were a testament to his lonely broken spirit. His eyes were hollow, empty and blank, so much so that they even failed to show a single shred of emotion. Only his memories kept him going and he was losing them as he aged further. I felt sorry for him. Maybe I should hurry up and apologize to Amanda before it is too late for me too. I could not live such a bitter existence where I’d wake up each day knowing I screwed up… where I knew I could have made a difference but rather I just let things get worse. My heart began racing. I had to meet her now! I just had to rush by her side and tell her how much I love her! I was getting up to leave.

The old man stood up, without saying a word he walked towards the humongous mirror in the passageway. He wiped his eyes. As he stared at the mirror, I could only see my reflection staring back at me. I remembered everything. It was already too late.

Schism

 (Artwork inspired by Tool - Schism)

What really made me sketch this? Maybe I liked the song. Maybe I just connected with the lyrics and sketched the first idea that came to my mind. I really don't know. In my opinion. the song talks about how gaps in communication disrupt relationships. Isn't that the case with most relationships today? Lack of communication helps only in distancing oneself from each other.

Yes I'll agree on the fact that a certain distance is required. A person needs time to themselves. A person needs silence but sometimes we let that silence continue for so long that we forget what other people sound like. When we cease to communicate, we cease to exist. If we do not communicate our problems, then how will they be solved? Mutual disagreements will still exist creating a strange dissonance which can never be fixed. Soon enough, familiar faces become unfamiliar, strangers remain strangers and the picture of a family on the wall cracks and falls to pieces. To avoid conflict, to solve problems and to share our opinions, we must communicate!

As the song quite rightly says - "Cold silence has a tendency to atrophy any sense of compassion between supposed lovers; between supposed brothers!"

PS: I know the pieces fit!

Link to the song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UhjG47gtMCo

Gauahar Khan is just the Tip of the Iceberg

On an introductory note, I don’t usually write this kind of stuff but I had to make an exception here. Who’d really want to read the kind of crap that has been all over the internet and covered voraciously by the media dogs? That’s right! No one! I still couldn’t resist writing this though. I am indeed talking about the Gauahar Khan (or Gauhar Khan or however the fuck she or her fans like to spell her name) incident. To be honest, I care about Gauahar Khan and the guy who slapped her as much as I care about my watchman or the dude who takes out my trash. Feminists who even got a whiff of this story must have geared up on their arsenal of “that’s not right” and “equality for women” slogans and rampaged all across the vast, wonderful, fragile realm of social media. I really don’t want to talk about that either.

In my opinion, which most people will value as much as they value their morning session, I’d like to say that it is not really that big a deal. Why would I say something so “controversial” above all the other pile of “controversial” crap… well… because it is not really all that “controversial”. People are simply frowning over one celebrity getting slapped on television, is it really worth the attention? Not at all! Now the media dogs will probably take this “incident” and turn it into a shitty story about the bravery of one woman who stood up for her right to wear what she pleases. Gauahar Khan could walk naked on the streets and I still wouldn’t care. I am not concerned with the way she dresses. What I am concerned about is the attention “one celebrity” managed to gather over “one slap” on “television”. What about the hundreds of other women who undergo similar or more brutal incidents repeatedly on streets, in their home and sometimes even at their work place or their respective educational institutes? Ever thought about why the media doesn’t cover that?

The media was “created” with a view that they would “serve and safeguard the opinion of common people like you, me and the other women who dwell in turmoil each and every day.” Over the years, all that the media has covered are just shitty issues which would bring their respective brands more publicity and TRP. Why don’t the media dogs flood the streets and cover the stories of the hundreds of women who have been subjected to the same incident of being slapped and humiliated in public? Yea… why would they? What publicity could middle-class or lower middle-class women bring? The media has stooped from giving the right information to providing infotainment. One look at Gauahar Khan’s twitter page can tell you that people would rather sympathize with a celebrity than someone who really needs their support. Gauahar Khan is backed by the media, she has her lawyers and the support of the masses. What does an average woman have? An average woman barely even has the support of her family - friends, media and others are a far off dream. Even the goddamned feminists who are backing Gauahar Khan have failed miserably to support the women who actually need them. Are we really that stupid that we have managed to hype something that is so much on the surface while ignoring whatever lies beneath it? If people had even half a brain they’d take their eyes off the television and start observing their own surroundings more keenly. Then they’d probably agree with me on the fact that such incidents involving celebrities that are usually hyped on digital media, social media and newspapers deserve a little or no attention at all. 

On a concluding note, I do hope that Gauahar Khan uses this incident and the publicity she has gained from it to help the other women who desperately need help and I do hope that common people start standing up for other women who need them instead of wasting their time on celebrities who will anyways hog the limelight and get “justice” at the same time… well… because they are celebrities!

PS: “Jaago chutyon! Aaju bhaaju dekho! Sab auratoon ki ma-bhen ek ho ri hai!” – Anonymous.  

I Understand!

I never really had a complete understanding of what a relationship was… not until now. Whenever I’d contemplate being in a relationship, I’d think that I would be the best boyfriend ever… that I’d take her out on dates to expensive restaurants, hold her tightly in my arms at the beach where we’d stand for longs hours and watch the waves crash to shore. If we would go out, I’d open the door for her, pull her chair out for her and in the morning, she would be the first person I would see as soon as I woke up… I always thought that we would be open about our feelings, tell each other everything and ‘be together’ in the most conventional sense possible. I had always wondered over what I’d expect of my woman. For instance, after a day at work, I’d come home late and she would cook me dinner, followed by the other mushy-mushy things that couples often do. I wasn’t too keen on stereotyping her role as a woman but then I was one of the laziest people you could ever come across. My woman would have to clean up behind me… a lot… especially when I was on a binge or from my general late night habits. I thought I had this all figured out. Then I began seeing someone.

At first, it was all butterflies, rainbows and sunshine although there were no dates at posh restaurants or long walks at the beach. Soon after that, I was introduced to compromise, heartache and this thing called pain that kept me awake for long hours at night. When she finally decided to walk through my front door, I thought it would all change. I thought I’d finally get to do all those things. Ironically, I ended up being the one who had to clean up behind her. I’d usually do the laundry. I’d cook meals for her. Then wait for her to come home or pick her up from a party when she was too drunk to even walk. I never questioned her and seldom argued with her. The relationship was a bit shaky but it seemed to work out for both of us. I trusted her with all I had. I didn’t care what she did as long as she was there beside me when I’d wake up. I’d quietly walk to the kitchen every morning, make some breakfast and serve it to her while she was still in bed. Sometimes she’d never eat as she was still hungover from last night but that was okay.

Although we had started arguing, I did love her a lot more than she could imagine. After all, she was all I had. I didn’t want to let go of the most beautiful person I had known just over some silly arguments. It wasn’t worth it. Whenever we would fight or when she seemed upset, I’d always make it up to her… sometimes with a poem and sometimes with a song. When that didn’t work, I’d take her shopping. When we were at home and she’d kiss me, I was transported to a different world where only the two of us existed. Everything else seemed to stop for that single moment. Then I’d open my eyes and look into hers and I’d be lost again. It was almost magical if not completely divine.

We had just argued and this by far was the worst and the longest argument we ever had. I stormed out of the house for work. I spent the first half of the day thinking about it, contemplating our relationship and then realizing how much I loved her. I didn’t want a dumb argument to tarnish what we shared. I left work early that day… ran over to the flower shop and picked up a bouquet of her favorite flowers. Then I picked up some assorted chocolates and all this would be followed by dinner at her favorite restaurant where I’d finally ask her to marry me. I made my way up the stairs with a smile, skipping one step after the other in order to reach faster. I opened the door to surprise her but in the end, I was the one surprised to see her on the couch in just her brassiere with my neighbor shoving his male organ halfway down her throat.

Although it broke me completely, at that moment, I kept my cool and gave my neighbor a chance to get out of my house and I let my girlfriend put on some clothes and rinse her mouth. I gave her the flowers, the chocolates and told her how much I loved her. I asked her what went wrong. She said “everything”. I agreed. Her guilt made her cry. I still didn’t feel like giving up on us but after what I had seen, I had no choice. All my efforts, all my affection, all my hopes and dreams were wasted on someone who didn’t deserve them in the first place. I told her she could stay till she found a new place and a job. I even went through the trouble of finding an apartment she could rent out. For the time that she stayed with me, I’d still do all the things I did for her. Nothing had changed. I’d still wake up to her in the morning. I’d still serve her breakfast in bed and I’d still tell her I loved her… maybe deep down inside I still did… maybe I was still attached to her. I didn’t know…

Three months had passed quickly since that incident. I had received a considerable raise at work. My company had given me an opportunity to work abroad and paid for my lodging and other expenses as well. I shared this with her and she seemed excited. Soon enough, I asked her to come see me. She agreed. I booked her flight tickets. By now, our arguments had ceased and she acted more responsibly towards me. Perhaps it was a sense of guilt that made her change. She began showing a bit more affection than before. For the first time after almost a year she told me she loved me and she was sorry for what she did. It made me happy. I told her if she was ready we’d even get married here and start anew. She packed her bags and boarded the plane. When she got off the plane, she called me to come pick her up. My phone was switched off. When she finally got through me, she realized that she was in a different country. All the money from our joint account was pulled out and she had no means of getting back home. I had already sold the house that we were living in together and had bought another place in another location. Even if she returned, there would be nothing left for her to go back to. I changed my number and never spoke to her again.

I think I understand relationships a lot better now…