And then there was dawn...

Closed the kitchen window and walked up the stairs. She was putting finishing touches to her make up. She saw me in the mirror looking at her and said 'Do i look alright?'. I replied 'Darling, you look wonderful tonight.' It had been years since we went out to a party. Taking care of the kids, the initial hectic years of the job had taken their toll. But at last, we were free, the kids had gone to college and jobs. After 25 years of marriage we had time for us alone. I had met her in university, smitten with love had married in few months. Just out of the varsity had got a job in an uptown firm and since then life had been just average. A beautiful wife at home, two average kids and a good job. But of late, something had been missing. The load of work had decreased, so had more free time. The kids weren't home, hence the dinner table was quite, the house lacked the vigour of past days. I had changed over the years, she hadn't. She still loved me, why i know not. I feared i was no longer the same man she had fallen in love with, i feared i was deceiving her. How long could this facade last, what if she recognizes that i am no longer what i used to be. I wished no longer to be here, to be somewhere far, into nothingness. I wasn't exactly the smartest person in town. She deserved better. I felt guilty, guilty of being loved, guilty of having stolen her youth, guilty of not being in love, guilty of not loving her enough. This wasn't the life we had wanted in our college days, this wasn't what she had wanted. So i had failed at last. So now i was the average bloke now, not the prince she had wanted. I felt cold, the room had lost the brightness, everything seemed dull. Of late everything had lost the joy, the misery had been killing me. When would she just walk away? Then what would i do? The misery of it all, the blasted patheticness, why this drowning in the sea of emotions. I couldn't have foreseen this thing happening to me. With downcast eyes i waited, with a broken heart i waited.

She stood up from her stool in front of the mirror, came up to me, brushed her lips against my cheek and said 'Love.' and looked at me. The wind was no longer chilly, the room was perfectly painted, the world was at my feet and i at her's. The dam broke but only a few droplets got through my eyes onto my cheek and she smiled. She smiled and all was not wrong with the world. She smiled and there was nothing else i could have ever wanted. She smiled and I fell in love again.

A dirty Sheet III

Please continue this. Please do. You readers don't care about anything but your comfort do you? I lost my grandfather,but , ah, what do you care? You just want your daily dose of stories. Indeed the self-centred creatures of the beggar's diaries you are. Here, have your letters.


"Sun rose early today. Disturb my daily trysts it does. Poor Christy couldn't sleep well. He is in a bad mood today. Luna had to rush away early, mid discussion. Birds just won't shut up today. Jesus had it easy, a day of pain for an eternity of bliss, it is I who has to bear you everyday, listen to you bickering everyday, going on and on about your petty troubles and in the morning too. Leave your sadness at home, don't fret over fiddling details in the morning at least. There comes the ugly woman. She drops a coin at me everyday and tries to be kind. Ah, but all the generosity of the world won't make you pretty, lady. Get away from me don't ruin my already dim morning. This crowd, this continous noise, this constant bedlam, run away from my space, run away to you ant holes, to your kennels, to your pyres and burn forever in your fury. This is an angry city, these furious times. They cry not due to their pains but due to their inability to anything about it, as do I everyday. The day was an archetypal shitty day( i use this in lieu of any suitable word). Everything was going wrong until, ha you guessed it, i know what you want to hear now, i know what your heart desires to read now, you believer of fairy tales, yes until she walked by. She threw a glance at me and quickly looked away and what a glance it was. I can't think of how many men have slept a sleepless night because of her. The face that launched a thousand ships. She was Helen, she was Cupid's mistress, she was destroyer of households. Suddenly the day grew dark and all the sun's rays lived for only one mission, to light her face, or rather she was the bestower of light. And then she was no more. Lost amidst this flood of ugly bodies, my beauty was lost. Christy, is sulking today. Luna, was hidden in her curtains of cloud too. But i don't need you all, i have my visions to give me shelter, her beauty to cradle me through lonely nights, her glance for eternity. As these eyes relinquish their right over vision, I know the fairy sleeps somewhere bereft of any remembrance of this poor soul."

P.S. My apologies for my earlier tirade. I have of late, lost all my mirth. You don't care about my personal sorrows just as i don't care about yours. Fair enough. Sleep in the memory of a beautiful vision.

Sermons

Earth is back to the same position it was last year. Calendar wise, new year. I hear people moaning the total lack of change witnessed in everything. My dear friends or acquaintances or strangers, nothing will change just because arbitrarily assigned numbers on your watch changed. What did you expect the sky to turn a rosy orange, clouds to take perfect shapes, air to smell sweet? If there's a god, he must be pretty pissed off right now. He must be wondering, "What do you want from me?".

I sometimes don't understand this world. I don't understand why are strangers to be feared, to be looked at with suspicion, why are people with lower social standing to be taken to have lesser understanding of life's nuances, why can't we just smile more often? The guy honking his car horn may just be tensed right now, maybe his some dear one is at hospital and he just wants to reach the place as early as possible. Smile at the people walking by you, you never know they might be feeling depressed and wondering if everyone hates them. Your smile can change lives. Remember seeing a child smile or laugh brightened up your day once? Return the favor to humanity. Its easy to come back to your corner and type your depression into a laptop and be praised by fellow beings for being a person of excellent skills but smile at a stranger and you might actually make someone happy. Listen to middle aged or old men rant about their lives. It makes them feel wanted, it gives them a hope that they are not actually worthless, they have not wasted all their life over nothing. It might be interesting, you may learn something. You are not so busy to have no time for other humans. I do not ask for you to give any dedicated time for humanity, just these small acts and world will be a better place for someone.

Have fun this year. Let's break some resolutions this year. Let's not just exist, let's live. :)

A dirty sheet II

It's been sometime since I attempted working on the mad man's letters. Too dense for me I suppose. Haven't been able to look at beggars the same way I used to earlier. The days are getting colder and my heart refuses to come out of the abyss. Haven't I pain enough of my own, why did that letter have to fall in my hand. Silence is a cruel bride, my friends mock me now,"Uff, this gadha won't speak sense now? All senti venti now are you? Chal be, drop this affectations man, let's have beer." Beer? I stare at them, that poor old man might have died of thirst for all I know and you want beer. I don't say that,of course, i am too ashamed of my lamentations. Anyways, it's time now for me to type the next few lines from the letter.

"Sun is an affectionate enemy. With its dawn the birds start twittering, the humans start crowding my alleys, the harbinger of noise,of chaos, of multitudes of simians, most yet to climb into human corridors. It takes away from me my darling moon, my precious, my love, my frigid betrothed. She listens to me every night, never complaining, never burdening me with her woes. Every night she calls me to her, My dear Luna calls her lunatic lover to her and we drift in these clouds while the dogs bark to prevent ordinary beings from hearing our conversations. Ours is a relation that has lasted, my sole companions in these lonely nights. Christy sleeps early you know, he has to get inspiration for all those epics he writes. My pens scribbling used to disturb him so now i write not in the bus stop but under the tree. But today I sit under the bus stop's asbestos canopy. Why do i write? What has the world given me in lieu of which i give it in these musings? Don't write, shun these words that They might read, store all your knowledge inside you, you fool,They have forsaken us and we shall discard them now. They are the fools,my friend, you are the normal being. One day We will destroy them. Ah, but dear Christy i was Them a lifetime back. I know what these rats feel. I know these men, I know love. This solitary tear on my cheeks is just a drop in the ocean of world's sorrow. I am inconsequential. What is a dust particle in the huge machine of humanity. Christy sleep now dear. Sleep, tomorrow will be a new day. Tomorrow we might find love."

P.S. the last lines seems to have been added later

Sorry, my friends I haven't the stamina to go on further. Sleep my friends, tomorrow who knows we might find love.

A dirty sheet

Found this letter in hands of a dead pauper on my way from station in the morning. A very dirty paper written on, in almost illegible handwriting. Here I reproduce it to the best of my cryptographic skills and i dare apologize in advance for I ain't too good in this job:

"I am a mad man! Yes, go ahead mock me, look at me with disgust, with contempt. Pity me, ain't I a filthy creature! Not worthy of being called a human, you miserable loathsome ants! All you self-appointed guardians of morality and decency, all you liberal cowards hiding behind your purdah of self inflicted non-violence, all you extremists killing a part of your own God for His sake. You rich snotty got-here-by-my-own-hard work jackasses, u sympathy-hungry lazy destitute bastards! It is I who face the wrath of nature everyday, it is I who return to her every night. It is I who live in sync with her. Look at that bird, how beautiful it is, how free in it's cares, how unchained in it's flight. Yesterday I saw a fledgling being eaten by a dog. It was raining then. Ah! the pitter-patter of rain drops like the footsteps of people walking from station in the morning. Chris is a nice man, u know under-appreciated and that sort. Christy? who? You ask You egocentric homo-sapien. Christopher Marlowe?? Author of Doctor Faustus? Bah! leave it. He's melancholic nowadays all that ado about Shakespeare bloke. But u thought I was mad didn't you. Yes! Yes! I am mad, idiot I am not. I have read, read a lot. All those posters you prima donnas don't care to even look at, those old torn books you discard,I read them. Chris and I have long discussions about life usually. All this talking and discussion makes my throat dry. But where do I get water to drink from? You don't care, do you? No one does. Throw a coin at me, even, you won't and cry you have to if you have less to drink, you will. I hate you, I hate you as much as you hate me or less for what does a mad man want but to get sane but what is a sane man nowadays but an insane.

Incoherent mutterings of lost soul

I have always have had this strange belief that one day by some improbable chance by some fluke of destiny i will be asked the question "who wrote tragical history of doctor faustus?" and whilw rest of the world looked foolishly i would proudly stand up and answer "Elementary sir, why of course Christopher Marlowe." When i was in college i begged to destiny to let there be a question related to novels i had read to be present in the exam which was on the next day for 50 marks. Just once,please let me get what i want. But alas,destiny aint a fan of mine as is obvious. I wonder has reading books ever done me a favor. Wouldn't it have been better if i had rather been a sportsperson. Females dig them, it gets you scholarships into colleges, you stay fit and it has mannish feel about it. On the other hand reading books is cowards profession. Exuding emotions depending on the authors dreams,how weak is that. TO be fed on someone else's experiences, to be forever dependent on someone else's appreciation to judge yourself.What has reading books given me? But then i read books because i like them, because i understand them, because they are far more true to me than mortals. They say books help you discern humanity but doesn't playing on the field with 10 other men help u comprehend humanity better. Maybe i am a midnight rambler. Don't read this rather punch a wall, the physical pain is far more true and pure than any emotions that can be written about.

Every human has a second person inside of him, someone to whom he can tell all their secrets. Some people even have 3 such personalities, but the real problem arises when these inner beings start sharing their secrets with you.

I am a very adept liar, in fact i lie so well that i myself start believing in them. Maybe the preceding statement was such a lie.

Humans have a inherent weakness for losers. we always relate to the jovial loser.In fact if truth be told devil has far more fans than God shall ever have. For we have far more experience of losing than of winning. We know what it feels like to be on the other side. To be chided by the winning party. The fierce wish to disappear from the scene if we have lost an event. To smile when all you felt was hatred for the winner, to be disgusted when the winner acted modest and tried to congratulate you with all the condescending acts he could garner. to be repulsed when the winner shouted out jovially to celebrate his victory. We all want to be winners but obviously we cant forget what we really are.

Sometimes when i talk to my third self, i ask it "why do you write? You believe what you write in.Why does the world need to know? Why waste time to convert your multiple thoughts into black and white text. To bind those free flowing thoughts, these rivulets of dreams with the chains of grammar and prose." My inner self blushed and says "To remind the world that you exist."

Love's Abyss

I hold you so delicately between my fingers and as I look at you I recall all those days, gone now forever, when you and I sat all alone in our own private universe. No one else but both of us. You look so innocent so delicate as I touch you with my lips. You have been here before and you are the last one who'll ever be. My parents warned me about falling in love with you, the world seemed against us. But I pursued you with a thirst unknown and when at last you reciprocated my love there was no turning back. You repaid my efforts with sleepless nights, bouts of insane creativity. I used to be so tired after work, my head hurt, my back ached, life was a eternal night. Then u came along with a flame and lit my stars away. A moment with you and it was a new day. I missed u in between work, stood up from the dreariness of the mindless slogging for a break every now and then, just to be near you. Will you forgive me if I let you go now. Can these chains be broken can we be driven apart? I don't want to. Everyone shunned me but you never left my side, without you I have no where to hide. Runaway world, for my love u will never understand i bet, there’s no one in this world I love more than my cigarette.


Life's going fine. Work keeping me busy most of the days. SOmedays have cipher to do rest of the days i slog. Gimme some characters and something u would like in a story and let me tryin weavin one. :)

Dusk and Dawn

Mumbai is a mad place and it is fascinating. Not as in your face as Delhi. It is subtle, it is welcoming, it is so obvious yet so contradictory. It does not have the history Delhi has and maybe Thank God for it.

I was traveling by a local train 9pm at night. Had been out to check out some flats for residence purpose. Few kids hopped aboard the train at some station along. Filled with their childish enthusiasm, they were creating quite a ruckus in the coach. They got down at the next station and ran along the train as it began to depart. Just when the train picked up speed they climbed back in the coach. Reminding me of the passions of youth, the futile actions of young. The carefree life that i left as i walked outside my college campus. How beautiful are the times gone by, how strange are the times you live in. No time to stand and stare now there is, and when you had the time who actually stand's and stare's. You rather run down some odd gully, play cricket in some street, let the wind blow through your hair and the sun tan you. What does a child know of letting the scenery, the surrounding seep in the body. And now when i want to , i have no time. As i let these thoughts run through my head, a middle aged guy looked at me and remarked 'look at these kids running wildly.' I smiled in response. He continued 'Shame on them. Their parents must have let them out thinking they are of to studies or tuition. What has become of kids nowadays.' Then it hit me, how different can humans perceive the same event. He was right in his own manner, he had kids at home who made the same excuse. What this event's significance was to him, was completely different from mine. A parent's concern, a father's worry who returns home late at night and has to take his child's statement as truth. This man was a child once, this man had been through his youth, this man had grown up. Will i too? Will i loose the shackles of youth and be free or forever get caught in the web of adulthood? Will i recognize the change or be one with it? Contradictions, stupid theories, when will it all end? Dusk and dawn are the same event just reversed in time.

Cleanin the Closet Series - II

Lines from Lower Depths by Maxim Gorky

Satin: Thermopylae! Thieves are the finest people in the world!
Kleshch (sullenly) : Money comes easy to them . They don’t work.
Satin: Lots of people get money easy, but not many give it up easy. Work? Find me work it’s a pleasure to do, and maybe I’ll do it. Hm .Maybe. When work is a pleasure, life’s a joy


Everyone wants others to have a conscience, but nobody wants one himself.

We were honest in the past the year before the last.

We wake up with a groan, and sleep with a moan.

Belonging to the gentry’s like having smallpox – a person may recover, but the scars remain.

I tried it once, getting married. It’s like jumping through a hole in the ice. Once you’ve done it, you’ll never forget it.

I don’t see why we should pull people apart who are fighting. They’d stop themselves when they get tired. It’d be better to let them slug each other as much as they liked. They’d remember it and wouldn’t be so quick to pick a fight next time.

Every morn the sun arises…
Still me cell is filled with gloom…
Day and night the prison sentries,
Ah-h!
Watch the window of my room

Guard my window at your pleasure
I will never run away!
Though I languish for my freedom
Ah-h!
Chains are forcing me to stay!

There is if you believe there is; there isn’t if if you don’t. Whatever you believe in, that’s what there is.

You have no heart, woman. A woman ought to have a heart. Us men are beasts, you’ve got to… you’ve got to tame us and teach us.

If no paths can be found that leads
To the realms of sacred truth,
Then blessed the crazed mind
That brings men soaring dreams.

If tomorrow the sun should cease
To light the earth with its rays
Tomorrow some madman’s dream
Would illuminate the world.


Here I have no name. Can you understand how it hurts to lose one’s name? Even dog’s have a name…

Natasha: Everybody has it bad. Don’t I see it?
Kleshch: Everybody? That’s a lie! Not everybody. If it was everybody it wouldn’t be so bad. Then you wouldn’t mind.

If a person’s worth depended on how much work he did, a horse would be better than any human – goes on hauling day in and day out without a word.

A person can be a believer or not, just as he pleases. That’s his business. A person’s free to choose.
He pays for everything himself: for believing, for not believing, for loving, for being clever. A person pays for everything himself, and that’s why he is free.

A good fellow can be stupid, but bad fellow has to be smart.