Into the Deep

He stood there in the room by himself. The cold creeping through his veins, to his heart. He feet felt like lead, frozen to the floor. He just stood there staring at his reflection in the mirror.

While he stared, the mirror suddenly changed, a time portal that carried him to the past when he was little lad. He could see himself in a teeny tiny swimming trunk with a float tied around his waist.

He was standing there with tears streaming down his face. His coach was already in the pool, and so were many of his friends. They were all trying to encourage him to jump and join them. But he couldn’t get himself to do it. He was afraid of doing it. He had been swimming in the kiddy pool for so long. What if he couldn’t swim, what if he were to drown.

He was frozen at the spot. Then suddenly someone caught him, and flung him into the pool. As he hit the water,  panic set in, before instinct set in. He began paddling furiously towards the shallow end.

When he reached the safety, he spat out all the water. He stood there shivering, furiously trying to find the one who had thrown him in the pool.

That was when he heard a familiar voice. It was his mum. She told him it would be alright. She took his hand and asked him to paddle, as she slowly guided him to the deep-end.

He hesitatingly started paddling, slowly and steadily feeling the pool floor disappearing underneath him. He kept paddling with her help, till he was confident enough to swim on his own. 

He joined his friends and from there his coach took over instructing his students what to do.

From that day on it was no more swimming in the shallows, it was the deep for him.

And just like that, the mirror brought him back to the present. He heard someone call him.

His feet were no longer frozen to the floor. He adjusted his bow, and slowly made himself out of the room and to his designated spot.

He stood there, and took a deep breath. He could feel all the eyes on him, threatening to burn through his skin, making him feel uncomfortable and nervous once again.

That’s when the door opened. There she was, a vision in white. Their eyes met, leading to knowing smile. The people vanished. It was just the two of them.

With each step she took towards him, the cold released the hold that it had over his heart. 

He knew that which each step they took to each other they were moving from the shallows and into the deep-end of life.

When he took her hands in his, he knew they would make it, together swimming in the the deep-end of life.

The Last Rites

They met each other at a conference. The moment he saw him , his Gay-dar started buzzing. He wanted to know him. It wasn’t like he was desperate for him, but there was something attractive about him, a magnetic personality, with a face and smile to-die-for, with a fit body under those clothes. This thought made him hot under the collar, a bit embarrassed as he literally swooned, undressing him with his eyes.

Somehow he found it in himself to introduce himself, after all he had a confidence in himself, but somehow he knew this one was different, unlike the ones found on dating apps, for people to hook up.

He was surrounded by a group of ladies, who were desperately trying to get his attention, and why not, a gorgeous man like him deserved his own entourage. He felt a  pang of pity for these women as they didn’t  stand a chance, or did they?

He used an exercise of discussion, to swoop him away, a white knight rescuing a maiden fair. He smiled at the thought.

When they were safe from the crowd, he thanked him for coming to his rescue. To which they both burst into laughter. They introduced themselves. Though they kept their respective orientation under wraps, they agreed to meet each other for drinks.

The rest of the conference, he kept staring at his watch trying to will time to go fast. But it seemed like time had chosen the day to take it nice and easy.

He had butterflies flapping around his stomach, while he waited for him at the bar, afraid he may have come on too strong. He hopefully he would come. This was so unlike him. He dated men before, and been on the other side. Was this god’s way of punishing him?

When he finally came , he felt a relief, which was quickly replaced by a giddy feeling. He could swear, at that moment, he turned crimson.

He couldn’t actually remember what they discussed, all he could remember was his eye, how they lit up, his lips, the dimples they formed when he smiled. He so wanted to grab him and kiss him, but he had to control himself.

That night, they formed a  friendship, which was sealed with a hug, and not a kiss. They exchanged number.

Overtime they met over coffee and drinks, went for movies together, shopped together. They constantly texted and called each other.  He so wanted to make a move on him, but he had to contain himself. After all he wasn’t a guy you wanted to fuck and forget. He was a type of guy who you could come home to, and share the rest of your life with. The only thing stopping him was that he had not really mentioned about his sexuality.

Then one evening, after a few drinks, they were walking in the park. There was something on his cheek, which he tried to brush off. Suddenly, he was holding his face, staring into each other’s eyes. And then he leaned in and kissed him. 

He sweared that in that one moment his heart stopped beating, his world stood still, a moment frozen in time.

When he came out of his dream, the first thing he saw was his irresistible smile, and then he heard the words come out of his mouth admitting that he really liked, to which, he dumbly responded, thank you.

He remembered how embarrassed he felt, but it was a memory that they had a good laugh over. He quickly tried snap out of this trance, only to have him kiss even more passionately, and this time he kissed back too. He felt like he died and went to heaven, if heaven was being in his arms.

They walked for a while in the park, holding on to each other’s hand, smiling at each other, like two teenagers discovering love for the very first time.

He took his hand  and kissed them, making him go even more crimson. He told him that he really liked him a lot, loved spending every moment with him. He would love to see where this would take them. But before they could  do that, there was something he wanted to share with him. He told him that he was married and had a son.

Suddenly the whole quickly changed for him. He couldn’t focus on what he was saying. He felt giddy once again. He had to get out of there.

His eyes were welling with tears, and walked around like a drunk, even though he tried to explain to him. He hailed a taxi, and without waiting to hear an answer, got in and instructed the driver where to go. How was it possible that his life could from heaven to hell, from a dream to a nightmare. 

He cried all the way home, and cried himself to sleep. He wanted to crawl under a rock and die. He didn’t feel like getting out of bed. He just lay there and sobbed. Why did it hurt so bad when there was nothing really between them. But somehow he felt cheated.

He refused to answer calls and messages, especially his, for he had tried calling him. He didn’t reply to any of his messages.

Then he heard a knock on the door. He tried to ignore it, hoping that the person would give up and go. But the knocks continued, and if it went any longer it would attract attention, which was the last thing that he wanted at the moment. So he finally answered the door, hoping he could get rid of the person. To his horror, it was him and he refused to go away till he was given a chance to explain himself.

He felt conflicted. There was a part of him that wanted to let him in, while the other wanted nothing to do with him. There was part that felt like a jilted lover, while the other hoped all this was some crazy, cruel prank. But most importantly he didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing him in this state.

But then his heart won over his head, and he let him in. He warned him that he would hear what he had to say, but there was no changing his mind, which he meekly accepted.

He asked him to sit down while he made a cup of tea  for the them.

When he took a sip of the tea, he smiled, knowing he had not been joking about the tea. After taking a couple of more sips, he placed his cup  and took his hands in his.

He desperately tried to avoid his gaze but he saw a similar hurt and sadness and pain in his eyes.

He started by apologising for the hurt he had caused him, though hurting was never his intention. He tried not to get attracted to him, but he couldn’t help being drawn to him. He didn’t want to lie to him, there was something special about him, the way he felt about him, something that he tried to avoid, but somehow he succumbed to it. He explained that he came out to his parents when he was a teenager, but they refused to believe him, and cursed him. They sent him for therapy thinking it was a mental ailment.  When he was an adult, they forced him into a marriage against his will, even resorting to emotional blackmail. He had no other option but to give in. He had hoped marriage would be better, but it turned into a living hell. His wife was aware of his orientation and used that as a weapon against him, finding every opportunity to humiliate him. Then they had a child, the Apple of his eyes, and once again she turned it into a pawn in her wicked game. She threatened to cut him off from his child if he ever tried to cut her off. She would humiliate him and his family and would take them to court.

When he finally narrated his story, he looked at him, waiting for some indication, some response. He stared into his eyes that were welling with tears. He just hugged him tight and kissed him.

That day they made love, it wasn’t just plain cranial sex, or a mere hook up, this was love which they made. It was the starting of something beautiful. With each passing day, their love for each other grew stronger. 

But it wasn’t all rainbows and butterflies, or even a bed roses, cause every rose comes with it share of thorns, and there was bound to be rain sometimes. He always felt like a third wheel in the marriage, a mistress. Though this hurt him a lot,they did have their fair share of arguments about it, he bore the pain because he loved him and he knew he was the most kindest, loving, generous man. He knew the predicament it  would put him in if he insisted on legitimatising their relationship. And besides Same-Sex couples were not legally recognised. 

When he least expected, his love found a way to stand-up to the emotional blackmail. He finally stood up to his family, to his wife. He had enough of living a lie, a dual life, of being bullied. He wanted to live his truth.

What followed was reasoning, which turned to tears, then to threats and abuses, but he stood his ground because of their love.

He finally broke off from his family and separated from his wife and child. He lost the custody of his child, and paid his ex-wife a big fat alimony. His family berated him and disowned him, but they focused their anger on him, their sons love, blaming him for corrupting their son.

As painful as the separation was, it had to be done. He knew he had lost so much for him, for them. He would wake up at night to sound of his sobbing. It took him a while to grieve this loss, but he somehow managed to do it. And when he had finished the grieving process there was a sense of freedom, a weight lifted off his shoulders. And from that moment they began living as them.

He had moved in with him, cause he lost everything in the divorce.  It was a small place, but it became their place. Their little nook in a cruel world. Their house may have been small but their home was large, because they were each other’s home.

Over the years, they managed to get  a bigger place. He even managed to make amends with his family, and managed to get visiting right for his son. He was happy to see him happy with these amends, but he could feel their coldness. They didn’t miss a chance to insult him. But he kept quiet, knowing the happiness this had brought him.

And so their life went on, with all the twists and turns, people coming and going. The only constant was each other.

And then came the pandemic. Like everyone, they stock piled all the essentials. They  tried to stay away from the news cause it only made them more nervous. They followed all the safety protocols, even ensuring that they went out with masks and gloves and kept distance from people.

Then one day, he started feeling feverish. He began to exhibit all the symptoms of the virus. Though they tried to stay calm there was nervous undercurrent. He informed the society and his family doctor about it, who initially advised him to quarantine him at home , keep a watch for any other symptoms.

However, his fever refused to come down, and he also complained of breathlessness. The doctor advised to be hospitalised immediately as his oxygen levels were low.

He called up all his friends, took him from hospital to another, trying to find a bed for him. All this while his condition only worsened. 

Finally, when he found a bed for him, doctor informed him that he would need to be put on a ventilator. He begged them to do all what’s needed to be done, however, a consent form had to be signed, which could only be done by a blood relative, or a spouse. Since their relationship was not recognised, he couldn’t do it. In his desperation he called his family, who initially refused, but finally gave in. His father came and signed the form. However, he gave instructions that only the family should get get any information. 

So he sat there outside the hospital, waiting for any piece information on his love. However, there was none to be found. Everyone refused to give any information cause their relationship was never legal. However, there was a nurse who was sympathetic towards him and gave him bits and pieces of information. He sat there all night and all day without much budging from that place. He ran for medicines, when it was needed, running from pillar to post when they were not available. And all though he was spread thin, he refused to leave the hospital. He felt sad that no one from his love’s family stayed back.

Seeing his state, the friendly nurse told him to go home and freshen up, if there was any update, she would call him.

He knew he wouldn’t be of any help considering the state he was in, so he reluctantly went home, had a shower, ate his food, and then exhaustion took over. He didn’t how and when he fell asleep, but when he woke he saw there were a number of missed calls on his phone.

He frantically dressed up and tried to call up the number, but nobody answered. So he quickly drove to the hospital.

When he reached, he ran up to the ward, asking the receptionist for information. However, she told him that no one was there. He asked her for information of the patient who was there earlier. However, she politely told him that she could not  give him the information as he was neither a blood relative or a legal spouse of the patient. As same sex marriage or partners were not recognised, she couldn’t give him any information.

He begged and pleaded with her but she wouldn’t break hospital rules. She even threatened to call the security if he created any further ruckus.

Just at that moment the kind nurse came out. She took him to one side and tried to calm him down. She told him that he had passed away.

When she told him that he was dead, it felt like the whole world had come crashing down around him. As he was not related, the hospital reached out to his father, who after finishing of the remaining formalities they had released his remains to the family. She had tried to call him but he was not reachable, and considering the current situation they couldn’t withhold the body for too long.

He frantically tried to call his family, but no one was picking up. He ran like a maniac, trying to fight back the tears that were threatening to breakthrough and blind him. The news still hadn’t sunk in. Everything felt like a blur, but he tried to keep focus. He finally got someone on the line who informed him that someone had passed away, so few people had gone to the crematorium.

He quickly made his way to the crematorium, but they wouldn’t allow him inside, as only immediate family would be allowed, and he couldn’t prove he was family. 

Somehow he made found his way inside. He ran like a mad man around the cremation ground, till he finally came across a lonely pyre where there was no one there. The person tending to the cremations informed him that the family of the deceased just performed the last rites and left.

 Seeing pyre in front him he finally broke down and began to cry. It finally hit him that he would never ever be able to see his smiling face again, feel his sensation of his arms around him, he would not be able to kiss him, make love to him ever again.

He collapsed to floor in tears and sat there till there was nothing but embers. He finally took the pot that contained all that was left of him home, hugging it as if he was hugging him.

They were brought together in life, but sickness and death and a legal system tore them apart, not even giving him the legal right to be there with him in his last rites.

A Mother’s Belief

He had always admired his mother ever since he was a wee little lad. She had one of the best athletes in her days. He remembered so much time with on the tracks that people said he surely gonna learn to run before he could walk. He always wanted to be like her when he grew up, the best in his field.

She beautiful and kind, who held her head up high but never looked down on others. She was dedicated runner, as much she was a doting mother, she was trained well, thanks to her discipline and dedication.She was loved by one and all, but she knew one day she would need to hang it all up and pass the baton to someone else, and she did when the time was write. Although she had retired, she continued to train kids at the local Sport Club, children who came troubled background, after all you may stop running, but you’ll never be able take the runner out of the person. Although she was was dedicated and passionate coach, she never lost sight of her maternal responsibilities.

Though he was their only child, and they were quite well off, they had made sure things weren’t handed out to him on a platter. If he anything he would have to work for it. This he learned to value the want and the cost of it.

Life had been good to him. He grew to be a strapping lad. He had his had his own posse of friends who he hung out with, spending lesser time with his parent, like all kids of his do. He excelled both academically and sports, but what changed was his love for running, it seemed to have vanished . Mother noticed this. She was proud of her son, and she remembered what he said when he was a lad, but she didn’t want to push him to it. She was proud of him anyway.

Then when one day his father got transferred to a small village town, a one where he grew up. He jumped and took this opportunity as a chance to return to his root. His mother was happy and supportive of his decision. She always felt the family could do with some peace and quite, far from the hustle bustle of the city. But he was different case altogether. 

He was not quite happy about the shift. This meant uprooting himself from his comfortable environment and starting again in a new setting. He was in no mood of leaving his current set of friends, which he had meticulously curated, starting over again. He resented the shift and made his displeasure known. But in the end there was nothing he could do.

He made the transition, much to his parents joy, but his dismay. The initial day acted out his resentment but mostly kept to himself. His mother noticed it all. At times his behaviour did upset and she had to reprimand him, correct him, but she always believes that he would eventually come around. So she tried not to push him to hard, afraid that he would push back against them. She gave him space, did what she could, and waited patiently for him to find his feet in hi new environment.

Now his mother was asked to train the local athletes, which she delightfully accepted. Running was her passion, her happy place. The opportunity to give back what she had received was the best she could ask for. So she took up the job training the kids, many of whom were super talented but came from lower strata of society. All the students were talented athletes, and she was super proud of them. Secretly she was hoping her son would join her, but she he would need to do it himself. As always she would need to be patient with him, she believed that he would eventually find his way.

Initially he showed no interest at all, he kept to himself, constantly brooding, hardly interacting with anyone. He found it difficult to adjust to his new school. He resented his parents for the predicament he found himself in. 

Then one day when he was waiting for his mother, after school, he made his way to the schools ground where his mother conducting drills for her students. Although he was irritated as she was taking so much of time, he waited for her to be done. He tried to not pay any attention to what was happening on the field, but he couldn’t help himself. 

He saw a joy on his mother’s face that took him back years to a time seeing her joy and passion he wanted to be part too, something that had gotten lost in all the growing up. Like a cool summer breeze, it all came back to him. Suddenly he had an urge to join his mother on the field. But his ego  would not let him do it. 

He sat there observing them. All through the ride home he was quiet, only answering in low grunts when his mother asked him about his day. She had sensed he wanted to ask her something, but she wanted him to do it himself, rather than just ask him directly.

That evening, after dinner, he found it within himself, if he could join her training. She was was happy to hear this. But she wanted to make sure he really wanted this. She also wanted him to come out the shell he had gone in’s, since they had made the move. So she agreed to train him, but on one condition. He would need to beat one of her student in a sprint. He eagerly accepted her challenge, cause he was confident he could beat anyone.

So on the chosen day he reached the tracks where she trained her student. He warmed and then came approached her. She chose one of her youngest student to race him. This made him overconfident.

So they both lined up, and she flagged them off. He got a good start, and built a good distance him and his opponent. He was sure he had this in the bag. But as the race went on o. He began to runout of steam, and his opponent began to gain on him, and steadily closed the gap between them. In the end his opponent handedly beat him.

He was furious with himself. He refused to shake the hand of his victor. He demanded another shot, and he had not trained well.

She was disappointed with his attitude but agreed to give him another chance on the condition that the next time he would be racing another student. He reluctantly agreed to her condition.

Thr next he woke up early and went out for a run. Later that day when she reached on the field to do running drills with her students., she saw him training there by himself. He did this everyday, diligently, till his next race.

However, once again his mother’s student was able to beat him, but this time around he improved greatly and was able to keep up for most of the race before his opportunity pulled ahead.

Once again he was disappointed with himself, but he was not sullen like the last time. This time around he shook his victor’s hand. He once again asked her for another chance. Though she was happy to see his perseverance and his never say die attitude, she acted as if she had grudgingly gave in.

Once again he trained diligently. And with discipline.

One day while he was training, he had a fall. On her student went and helped him. He took his hand and got up. This small act got them talking, with that it brought down the walls he had put around himself.

The next, day for lunch, the student invited him to join his table and introduced him to all his friends. Later in the day she saw him training with his new friends.

Though the next race he didn’t win, he was not disappointed. He had his friend who rallied around him. She was happy to see this, and gladly gave him one last chance to prove himself worthy to join her team.

She noticed a change in his attitude. There was no longer brooding, and he made attempts to get along with everyone. He hung with friends, helped them out with their studies, and they helped his running. There was an happiness that had disappeared when they moved to the new place. He was finally out of his shell.

On the day of the race, she chose his friend to race against him. They both shook hands before they took position, and when she gave the signal, off they went . Now there were other children, besides the ones she trained, who had gathered to cheer the boys  on. 

She beamed happily when she heard cheering for her son and her student.

Now both the boys ran well. There was hardly anything to separate them. They ran neck and neck for most of the race. In the end it all came down to just hair. 

Her son managed to win the race.

Thr children ran to congratulate both of them. They formed a huge circle of a group hug. The strongest of them picked her son up out him on his shoulders, and danced around. It was as if they won the championship.

When they finally put him down, she walked to him and shook his hand and welcomed him. She knew in this all she was the winner, because in her son’s victory was her victory cause she was able to help him find himself that somehow got lost in transportation.

.. Bridge Over Troubled Waters…

.. like a bridge over trouble waters…

The iconic Bandra-Worli Sealink

The dream of many a runner

To proudly say they have run on it

To have a clicked a selfie on it

I have one too though not a selfie 

The bane of marathoners 

Who have to overcome the hidden slope

And the balking of the bridge in the sea breeze 

Now stands for something different 

It stands for every Mumbaikar

The undying spirit that’s Mumbai

It represent something for us

Of that of HOPE

Of that of FAITH 

Of STANDING TALL

When the odds are not in your favour

Of OVERCOMING 

Of bridging the gap over troubled waters

Of seeing you safely through

It will lay you down

The Limerick of the Bar

There was man from Khar 

Who signed up for an open mic at the Bar

He wanted to tell jokes

Cause he was totally broke 

And could do with some tips from the jar

He called his lawyer from Sahar

Who fighting his first case at the bar

But he was nervous bloke 

The night before he drank whiskey with coke

And next day he got debarred

So he called his friend Sandra from Bandra

Who was at the moment in the shower

So her barred her door

Cause she was all alone

And lathered herself with a soap bar

Now Sandra was a religious lady

Who made a point to pray daily

She had hope in her soul

And soap in the hole

Set the bar for others high

Now the bar slipped from Sandra

And didn’t go too far

She slipped on the bar 

And banged her head real hard

Though it was morning she could see stars

The neighbours they heard Sandra scream

So the broke the door as it was barred

They too slipped on the bar

And piled up on poor Sandra from Bandra

Now the poor man from Khar

Had not yet written any joke for the bar

But he had hood in his soul 

And knew if some god he told

He could earn some money  from the bar

In the evening he set out for the bar

But he couldn’t afford a car

So on he foot he went

But by the time he got there he was spent

So he ate the last of his chocolate bar

Now the bartender poured him a drink

And told him not to think 

So he told his jokes like a pro 

And stole the whole show

And now was no longer broke!!!

So he thanked man behind the bar

Who gave him another caramel bar

He hailed him a car

Which was on the bar

That’s all for the man from Khar!

The Boy From the Hood

He sat there in front of the fireplace nursing the drink he had prepared for himself. As the wind howled outside, he was glad all snug and warm inside. He didn’t fancy the outdoors much and the blizzard gave all the more reason to stay in. He wouldn’t want to be someone outside, all caught in the cold outside. He was grateful for the fire and the warmth it provided. 

He twirled his glass and enjoyed the clinking of the ice., a sweet melody compared to the howling wind outside. He took a sip and savoured the warmth he felt as the alcohol made its way down. What else could a man ask for Ona cold winters night. He was safe and warmth in his small but luxurious world. He didn’t have to step outside, he had people to do that for him, people at his beck and call, people who were currently not present. 

Although he had all the luxury he could care for, his house well stocked, to help him  make it through the cold winter, but somehow he felt all alone and lonely. The blowing snow made things all the more gloomy.

As he sat there, nursing his drink, he remembered a life along time ago, when things were totally different. It felt a whole different lifetime. But still it was part of his journey, a perilous one, nonetheless, to get where he was. He would give anything, to not have to have it part of he was. It was part of the fabric that he woven to get himself here.

“The Boy From the Hood,” that was what he was called mockingly. What he would give to see their faces if they could only see how far he had come, and still it was the one thing that he couldn’t.

Life hadn’t always been kind to him. He wasn’t born with a silver soon. But his mother always encouraged him to aspire for a better life. She used to often tell him “Life is just like a box of chocolates, you never know which one you would get, but if you got something you didn’t like, you could always get rid of it till you find the one you want.” This adage had served him well and he had his mother to thank for it, and for some many things in life, for allowing him to dream!

His father, however, was different story altogether. He was hopeless drunk, who regularly, physically and verbally abuse his family. He couldn’t keep a single job, due to his drunken behaviour, and regularly harassed his mother, who worked in the homes of others, for money to by his liquor. And when she refused, he beat her black and blue, almost to point of bleeding. And if he came to the defence of his mother, he was not spared too.

Inspite it all, his mother always tried to maintain a cheerful demeanour for those around her, although he bruises and stains of her tears. She always remained optimistic for her son, wanting to see him rich the he was destined to. She didn’t want him to live the impoverished 

Then one night he was woken up by the screams of his mum. His father was mercilessly beating his wife in one of his drunken rages. He tried to save his mother, but his father rained down blows on him too. So in an attempt to save his mother , he pushed his father, who banged the back of his head to the edge of the table, and began bleeding profusely, and a couple of expletives later lost consciousness.

He panicked wondering if he had murdered his father, he wanted to stay back and save his mother, but his mother insisted that he leave the hoods and go to the city where she had a friend living there who would look after him. He shouldn’t worry about her.

So he packed his bag and kisses his mum goodbye, wondering if he would ever be able to see her again. That night, he left the hoods moved to the big city, not realising how his life was going to change.

There in the big city, his mother’s provided a roof over his head, which he had to share with others. This however, he didn’t mind, as the room felt like a palace, compared to the room which they lived in the hood. The only thing being that he had to fend for himself. He began working for a courier delivery company.

During one such errands he ran into A. When he met A for the first time, he thought his eyes were deceiving him. They were doppelgänger of each other. The only thing that differentiated then was their style. He began to wonder if this was a cruel case of Prince and the Pauper? Was the myths of the silver screen real?

They continued to cross each other’s part till A got fascinated with him and took to him. Now A insisted he joined them. Now A was a rich brat, with money to burn. He was a sole child born to rich parents. A typical broken home, where the parents didn’t pay him much attention as they would to their social standing. To them he was just an asset they would use when they want, and he made best of this situation to get his way, and live his extravagant lifestyle. He had a entourage who continuously hung around him.

Now A took great fascination to him, much to the displeasure of his entourage. They didn’t loose a chance to belittle him, when A wasn’t around. They called him A’s Charity Case, the Boy from the Hood. They thought A’s fascination with him would ware off. But much to their dismay it began to grow stronger. Slowly and steadily he became a close confidant of A. 

With A’s help he was able to slowly build a career for himself. However, this didn’t impress the father of the girl he loved. To them he was just the  Boy from the Hood, who didn’t have not have wealth or a proper parents. They refused to give their daughter’s hand in marriage. He just remained silent, and vowed to make them eat their word. But then as  luck would have it, she was married off to a prospective groom who met her father’s expectation. He was heart broken, but he didn’t want to get mad he just wanted to get even.

With the help A of A’s influence, he was able to grow his business. And there were times he repaid A’s trust by attending events as him. This actually suited him more as it allowed his business to flourish.

Now one day, A decided to have a party on beach side club, and as usual got high. In his intoxicated condition, he insisted of driving from the party with him. However, he lost control of his car and rammed it into someone. When they got out of car to see  what happened, they saw that they had ran into a girl. When they couldn’t find a pulse, A went into a shock, wandering what he should do. He pleased with him to take the blame on his head and he would give him whatever he wanted. However, he didn’t want any part in it. When A requested to help him get rid of the body and the evidence, to which he reluctantly agreed but for a price. 

Once A agreed on the price, he helped A get rid of the body and all the evidence. They drove  slowly and quietly back, trying avoid any further event or attention. When they reached home, the tried to wipe off all evidence from the car and immediately got rid of it.

A being true to his words paid the price that he had demanded him. However, his guilt got better of him abs he turned to alcohol and drugs to drown out his paranoia.

A month later A can to meet him. He told him that he was being followed but someone who knew what happened. A showed him the note with the  words “I Know what you did!” written on it, and with a piece of bloodied  fabric just like the victim wore on the night incident. A pleaded with him, as he was the only witness, if he could help him once again. Once again he quoted his price, which A willingly paid.

Now over the next couple of months, A continued to get mails and calls, blackmailing. And A continued to turn to him to help, but for a price to which A readily welcomed.

A few members of A’s entourage got suspicious about his motive and even questioned it loudly. But he always found a way to silence them.

During this time A started to get all the more paranoid and increased his dependency on drugs and  alcohol. 

Then one day he asked him to come over. When he reached there he found A totally high, with. There was a note nearby along with a syringe. His hands trembled as he tried to inject fatal cocktail into his arms, but he couldn’t get himself to complete the deed.

He slowly went over to A , and leant forward and said something in A’s ears. As A heard what he said his eyes opened wide. His convulsed and he breathed his last

Next day in the paper the news of A’s death was ruled as a suicide from the note that A had left and all the evidence pointing to suicide.

He distanced himself from it all, and continued to grow his business. He attained the status that his mother had wanted for him. But he felt sad she wasn’t there to see the success he had attained. In fact, there was no one who he could share his life with. Everyone had gone.

As he got back from his thoughts, he opened the draw next to him that contained his deepest secret. There was an article of the hit and run accident involving an gentleman, but the perpetrator couldn’t be found. He stared at the picture of the victim and smiled, it was the same man who had refused to give his daughter’s hand to him. As revenge he planned it. He called him on pretext of handing over a parcel to him. He knew A would be high after a wild night. He made A cause the accident that killed his would have been father-in -law. He helped A get rid of the evidence and the body, but ensure that he had few articles he could leverage later. He then started taking control of A and his finances, and silenced whoever came in his way. When A got paranoid and wanted to admit his guilt, he devised another plan to push A further down the rabbit hole. When had no further use of A, he orchestrated his suicide. Before A could die from the cocktail he injected, he told A it was him who was behind it all, and pressed the syringe that administered the cocktail that resulted in his death.

He smiled cause he had proven to all what the boy from the hood was capable of. How he wish he he could see their envious faces? How he wished he could his mother and show her how he enjoyed the chocolates that life gave him, ensuring that he got only the ones he wanted, just like he wanted.

The next morning when his housekeeper returned to the cabin, she found his ice cold body seated in his chair with a glass in his hand a smile on his face.

Look Over There!!!

Let me start by saying this, violence can never be be tolerated. Rape is heinous. Together these are vile and can never ever be justified. No one has the right to take or destroy what is not theirs. 

There’s nothing like a doodh ka dhula politician (if I got that phrase right). All of them, somewhere or another, they have blood on their hands. This applies to every political party.

Now that’s out of the way, seeing the news and posts of friends and acquaintances on the post poll violence in West Bengal has been distressing, as if we didn’t have anything less on our plate at the moment! Violence, killing and rape is wrong and, as I said, can never be justified, and every politician has blood on their hand.

Reading those, but taking my inherent mistrust of the ones involved I wanted to write a scathing rebuke why I felt that we can’t take what you see, knowing the great IT machinery of the accuser, and the very fact that it’s entire machinery has descended on to the state when the nations capital and number of states are breathless with a lack of oxygen and vaccines. Hence the reason for my suspicion. Or it maybe my inherent dislike (cause hatred is a strong term). But then realised writing this wouldn’t help, it would lead to more disagreements and arguments and strained friendships.

So here are some of my thoughts. We are country that is easily manipulated to hatred. It a weapon that’s wielded every political party.  Not one political can ever deny the usage of this weapon. Why only our country, Trump cam into power riding the wave of hate, and continued to polarise a nation, and still does. Hating is something to at instilled in us. We were rules using the divide and rule, and we continue to be ruled by the same adage. This is what hate mongers tap in.

Plus we have our political biases and many a times blinded by it. And this goes not ways, I know I have mine, and at times I know I am blinded by it. So we will always try to see and believe what we want to believe, facts be damned.  If you see, all who shared the post on their stories didn’t write a single line praying for the victim, or praying for peace and justice prevail, not a single line for the victims. We are so blinded by hate that we named leaders but didn’t show compassion for those affected by it.

We are a nation that’s easily distracted. We suffer from “Look Over There” and “Wag The Dog “ syndrome. It’s a ploy that have been applied in the past and it continues to be applied even today. We have humongous crisis  in our hand that’s already out of hand, we need to focus on getting g ourselves out. That doesn’t mean that Bengal crisis is less. But the. That’s for the Law and Order to see it. 

We are nowhere in the clear with COVID-19. We 3 lakh plus cases reported everyday and 3k plus people people loosing their lives daily. Each life lost could have been a life saved.A huge chunk of our population are still to get its first dose of vaccination, and we are already suffering a shortage of vaccines. Courts all over the country have been pulling up both the Central ans State Govts in the way it has handled the second wave. Our healthcare system is overburdened and crumbling, but still resilient, while powers are still in denial mode.

People are on the edge. They have lost lives, living, loved ones, homes. There’s a constant anxious feeling. Every moment threatens to push someone over the edge. And trust me a post like the ones we saw, is enough to turn someone insomniac. This along with the daily reports of deaths and the crashing healthcare system.

So here’s a request. Wether the news is true or fake news, let’s pray for those affected, let’s pray for peace, let’s be kind with one and other. We could do with a helping hand. Instead of being a nation divided by our political beliefs, let’s try to be kind to one another. Irrespective of our political abs religious beliefs, we come together to overcome, hate, violence and COVID-19. Cause together we will make it through.

The Fireplace

He felt a cold breeze blow, always carrying him with it. He could hear his bones creek as he wandered in the cold evening. He tried to keep himself warm but his flimsy worn out clothes were no match for the cold. Though he pulled his shawl, his only defence from the cold, his teeth chattered loudly.

How did he get here? What was he doing out on this cold evening? What was he looking? So many question to which he had no answer. The  cold breeze had now turned into a blowing wind. He could hear it  in the trees, in the rustling of the leaves. He pulled the shawl around his shoulders, trying desperately to keep himself warm.

After while he saw a faint glow, a fire simmering in a clearing. He made his way towards hoping to find someone who could help him. But there was no one there. How strange was that, he thought, on a cold night like this, it was strange to find a burning fire with no one there. But all that didn’t matter. He was cold, and the fire provided the warmth he needed.

As he sat there, warming himself, he remembered another warm fire, but that wasn’t in a open place but in a house. A fireplace, that’s what it was, not like the bonfire that he was sitting in front of. This felt like a distant memory. He found it strange that he could recollect this but had no recollection of how he got out, where he came and what he was looking for.

The warmth of the fire warmed his body and his heart. It wasn’t a searing heat, it was a warm gentle heat. It made him feel warm and it made him feel safe. There was something pleasant, a homely and loving warmth. He could no longer feel the cool.

As he sat in front of the fire, his mind jogged back in time. He remember when he first brought to his master’s place by his parents who worked in master’s household. As he was quiet along and almost the age of his master, he was allowed to play with his master.

He remembered the fond memories of playing in front of the place, especially on rainy days, when children were not permitted to go out and play in the rain, and winter evening when it was too cold to go out to play. It was in front the fireplace where his faster taught him how to read and write.

He remembered, when he grew a little older, his mother said it was time he too helped with the domestic work. He couldn’t play much with his master, but he did find time to sit in front of the fireplace so that he could sit with his master and learn from him and sometime listen to him read the news from the paper. They became close with time.

Then one day, his master was sent to a foreign land to complete his education. When he heard about this he felt sad, he wanted to cry and tell his master not to go. But then he was a lowly servant, besides why would his master pay heed to him. When the time came for his master to leave, he could see a sadness in his master’s face, in Anis eyes. But neither of them could express it due to the status quo that was in front of them.

As the years went by, he continues to work with his parents as the caretaker of the of the house. Every vacation his master would come to village  to spend his break. And though there was a lot to be done, he remembered how his master ensure that he made time to spend it with him in front of fireplace. He was  always fascinated by stories that his master would tell him, about the teachers and libraries, the parties, the girls, the various sports he played. While there was not much he could share with his master, except all the happenings in the village, the latest gossips, which cow gave birth, and so on. But his master always listened to him intently, even though he knew he was boring his master. 

Over the years his mater grew into a handsome young man. He could see the village belle swoon when ever he came over, and would eavesdrop especially when he would go for a swim in the lake. They keep needling him to take them to him, so they could a better view of him. He just shooed them off saying that his master had better thing to do and he would not want to waste his time on a gaon ki chori when he could get a well educated and a beautiful angrez memsaheb. But secretly he too would find himself staring at his master. There were times when his master changed right in front of him. He could see every inch of master’s toned body. And even though he tried to look away from him, he could feel a stirring a longing within him.

Then one year his master came to the village during the monsoon. His parents hadn’t come with him and he added alone. That evening parents sent food for his master. But before he could reach it began to rain. He was thankful that his mother had wrapped the food securely so that the water wouldn’t harm it. But the same couldn’t be said about him. By the time he reached the house, he was soaked to the bone. 

His master was concerned when he saw him at the door, and though he tried to protest that he would need to go home, his master commanded to wait till the rain passed and if he got wet again he catch a cold or pneumonia or malaria, or whatever rain sickness. He asked him to come and dry himself off by the fire.

As he couldn’t disobey his master’s words, he went quietly and sat by the fire but was still shivering because he was wearing his wet clothes. Seeing this master asked him to remove his clothes and let it dry. When he saw him hesitating he jokingly told him that there was nothing that he hadn’t seen. Although he protested, his master refused to listen and come over playfully tried to get him to remove his  wet clothes.

They began to wrestle like they did  when they were kids. The wrestled all over the place till they were out of breath. His master was on top him, pinning him to the ground. He could his master’s warm breath on his face. And then he felt something growing harder. The. There was that feeling he got every time he saw his master in the buff. And when he looked into his master’s eyes, hey found them mesmerising, almost leaving him in a trance. He tried not gaze, but his master kept drawing him in, like a magnetic pull.

His master lowered his face their nose touched  and shared airspace. He tried to avoid his masters lips, but in the end they met. He had never kissed anyone, let alone a man, so sensation was new and awkward. But then something happened deep inside him, something burst and he could feel this warm wonderful feeling that was growing deep within him. He  gave  in and kissed him back.

They rid themselves of their clothes , and continued to kiss. He felt intoxicated the smell of his master’s skin, it was the beautiful smell which he had smelt. With bodies entangled, skin on skin they made love that night. It was the first time he had ever done it and this was a kind of feeling that he had never felt before. His body was tingling, and shuddered with every touch. He felt orgasmic, to the point of ecstasy. 

When they were climaxed, they just lay there, their bodies entangled, their manhood pressed against each other, sweat of their bodies mingling with each other. It felt magical, it felt warm, it felt natural and beautiful. He knew he had broken more than a dozen taboos, but in that moment it didn’t matter. It felt like their bodies were fused together from the heat that emitted from the fireplace in their hearts, and the fireplace before which they lay in each other’s arms.

He stared at his master’s face, looking into his eyes. There were so many things that he hadn’t noticed before, thanks to the social boundaries that were in between them. But now that they had fallen there were so many minute details that he noticed, like the grey fleck in his  eyes, the scars above his eyebrow from the stitches that he had to get from a fall, the perfect straightness of his nose. There were so many details he could see.

His master turned and took his face in his hand and kissed him. His lips felt so soft against his. He didn’t want this moment to end. He just wanted to just lay there in his master’s arm. He felt warm and safe there. But he had to get up leave for home. Though he didn’t care he was worried if his parents would begin worry.

He remembered that vacation distinctly, even as his memory tried to deceive him. He held on to those memories cause they were the best days of his life. He found some excuse to spend more time with his master: they held hands, when no one looking, they kissed and made love every at every chance. His life was beautiful, he was finally in love, he hopes and prayed that his master loved him back. It is as a perfect monsoon love story, if there was any such thing.

As all things had to come to an need, his master’s vacation came to an end. He had to return back to his studies. He didn’t want to go and he didn’t want him to go, but reluctantly they parted, not before he promised to come back for him and take him with him, away from the village ways. 

They returned back to their lives. They made it a point to write to each other, and every now and then he used to get a call from his master. He distinctly remembered that he continued to work with a hope of one day being able to spend the rest of his life with master.

In the present he sat there staring at the flame wondering what exactly had happened. And then he remembered what happened, and as he thought about it he felt like a dagger was driven through his heart. Though he didn’t want to remember he still remembered it.

One summer day he received a call from his master. What his master said made his world come crashing down around him. His master had been into a marriage against his wish. Some family promise that had to be kept. His master tried explaining his predicament but couldn’t listen to it. His head was spinning around and all he could hear the sound of his life coming crashing down.

His master tried to call, tried to write to him,tried to meet him, but refused to meet him at all. His heart was broken to a million pieces. His master was only person he had ever loved. He had kept his end of the promise but his master hadn’t kept his end. He felt cheated. 

After that what happened was a bit fuzzy, things he couldn’t remember. He tried to remember what happened after that be he couldn’t recollect it. Secretly he was glad he couldn’t remember it, he was sure they were more painful if he couldn’t remember them.

As he sat but that fire, he started to feel sleepy. He couldn’t help but lay down next to it. As he lay down next  to it he felt the same warmth that he had experienced when he lay in master’s arms after they had made love. He felt as if once again he was in his master’s arms. Sleep came quick, and within minutes he was fast a sleep.

In the morning, when the people came to the site, they found his body laying next to the funeral pyre. He must have passed away sometime in the night, in his sleep. Someone recognised him as the caretaker of the house who’s owner had just passed away and next to his pyre  he had passed away, reuniting with his master in the after life.

... the Answer is Blowing in the Wind

As he watched the clip of young Ishaan sing Bob Dylan’s Blowing in the Wind, he couldn’t help but admire the young man’s voice. He loved this song. He always felt the song was hauntingly beautiful, and Ishan’s voice added another layer of innocence to it.

But as he listened to Ishan sing, he thought how much this song resonated in today’s time when the world, his country was descended into chaos. Ishan’s innocence made the song feel even more melancholic.

He could feel a deep resentment building within himself. A feeling of hopelessness, a feeling of helplessness, a frustration that lead to anxiety. He could feel an Anger that threatened to let itself loose, like fire from Drogon when he laid waste to Kingslanding.

And as the song asked some poignant question who couldn’t help himself but think on the same lines. He wondered how many more people would need to get infected, needed to die, need to suffocate before the ones in hire power to acknowledge that they have lost the plot, they are grossly incompetent, they have no clue? How long they will be worried about their image, which they wanted to keep intact at all cost, to the extent of  trying silence the voices of descent, criticism, refusing to believe, ignoring facts ans numbers and advice.

How long would they keep turning a blind eyes? How long would they live in denial and keep making head scratching statement that everything is alright, everything is better than last year, there’s surplus and everything was in stock? How long will they cry themselves hoarse on an external conspiracy to malign the ones in power? 

How many more funeral pyres need to burn before they realise that their hands are crimson red of the blood of those who lost their lives because their apathy? The dead may not have a voice, but dead surely know, and the thought them will continue to haunt you for the years to come. And though they may say that the dead don’t count, not realising that the dead represent a life that could be saved if it weren’t for their negligence, if it weren’t for their false ego, their image, their mistrust .

How could religious events, poll rallies, sporting events go on unabaited? Do we even need them. When a country that’s struggling to come to terms, come to grips of the lives lost in the pandemic, how could someone justify the need for this? Were these people blinded by the flames of the funeral pyres, the smoke blocking their senses. He knew karma will catch up with them. He hoped that it didn’t take so long time. He wasn’t a vengeful person, but in this case, he couldn’t help himself.

He wondered how long would they keep trying to silence of the truth through intimidation and fear? Don’t intimidate the people so much that they stop fearing them, and taking a stand would be the only option. An then there would be hell to pay, cause like the North, people remembers and they, like the Lannisters, will pay by their debts.

But he was afraid that people had memories like goldfish, were all Dories, easily forgetting things they should remember and make the ones pay for the transgressions against them. But it was the people who had stepped up and came to the help of those in need, reaching out to those in need, forwarding requirements, posting them on their timelines and stories, doing their bit for one another. A job that those in power should have been doing.

He wondered what happened to those celebrities who parroted lines when image of the nation was questioned? Where were they now? Did they leave the country, flew coup, traveling to some exotic place, or just save and secure behind the comfort of their four walls? Will they ever grow a spine or balls, and take a stand? He didn’t know if they would ever do it. 

There were so many questions swirling through his brain. He had this seething feeling of anger that welling in his chest. He wished the perpetrators would suffer the same faith, or an even worse faith. He was not afraid or surprised that he had these thoughts.

He wondered if the people would ever get the answers the seeked and would the ones I power ever take responsibility?

He closed his eyes as tears began to well in them. He could hear Ishaan singing... 

The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind

The answer is blowin' in the wind