The Secret

The embers of the fireplace were slowly dying down fading from a bright yellow to a dull orange, the night was young & the whisky had its surrreal effect. The group huddled closer to garner the last ounces of heat in the cold night. I took a mighty drag from the Dunhill I'd just lit & passed it on to Bhargav. It was his turn to narrate.

'' The first time I'd met her was at my apartment. She'd knocked on the door & politely asked if I'd got a candle. There was no power for a while & it was pretty dark. I already had a candle lit & under its light I saw her face. She was ethereally beautiful. Those big brown eyes reflecting the wick of the candle, the smile like an angel. At that instant I knew I was in love with her. In the coming days I learnt she had just moved into the next door apartment. Every time I'd want to express my feelings, something held me back. Possessive that I was I kept tabs on her. After college she'd leave on her vehicle at 5 pm everyday & return by 7. She'd be on the terrace with the phone all night, talking to someone. Initially she used to be very happy. However after a few days I'd noticed she had stopped going to the mysterious destination and she'd cry at night. I thought she'd ended an affair & one day gathered enough courage to face her & express my feelings. Maybe she needed a new beginning. However as I was stepping out, I saw the television & my heart skipped a beat. She was on the news, she had disappeared. And from that day on I never saw her again. ''

The Dunhill was passed on to Sajjad who took the drag & narrated his part of the story.

'' I'd met her for the first time in the college library. I was browsing the shelves for a book & when I finally found it, i stretched my hand across to take it out & it came out of its own but in the other direction. And then I saw a pair of eyes looking at me. It was the most beautiful eyes I'd ever seen. From that moment on I was infatuated. I got to know she was my junior in college. She was introduced to me by a friend of mine. We were good mates & she spoke a lot but I always felt she had hidden secrets. My infatuation slowly drifted to love when I got to know her more. However her secret made me curious & one day I opened her bag . Inside one of the books lay the key to her mystery. 'A Letter'. She had a secret affair I didnt know of, The letter was pouring with love & wanting. Not one sentence gave out anything about him or mentioned his name. I decided that I'd crack this mystery & one evening I followed her on my vehicle. The mist had covered the mountains & the road was hardly visible. She took a detour off road & hit a rocky path. I had to keep up pace as the distance between us lengthened & after a bend she'd vanished in the mist. I followed the path for as long as it went & the path ended in a cliff. Dejected I headed back. As i entered college the next day people flocked around me & then I got to know she'd disappeared. ''

The cigarette went on to Pinto & as he drew the puff, he narrated his part of the story

'' I used to work part time in the pub doing what I do best, playing the guitar. Of all the people who came there, most came to enjoy the drink & a few who enjoyed the music along with the drink & just one who came in purely for the music. That was when I noticed her. She was reserved, minded her business & didn't touch a drop of drink & yet she was there, day in day out listening to the guitar. Her mere presence made me forget the world around me & took me to a hypnotic euphoria & my music sounded even better. That was when I fell in love with her. I always felt she possessed a secret & that was what brought her here. The last time I saw her was when I was taking the evening jog along the cliff in the mist. She was heading down a rough path which leads to the edge. It used to be my school hangout. A viewpoint & a precipe. I wondered if I should let my feelings known to her that day. But it was just not the occasion, I was knackered by the run & thus I headed back home. She never came to the pub henceforth & that was the last time I saw her. ''

The cold was creeping in with the wind. The stars felt like a million paparazzi taking our photographs. The mist was piling in & we couldn't even see each other's faces. The embers of the flame was dying down & so was the cigarette. It was burnt right till the filter & my part of the story died with the cigarette. However the story lies deep within me & it is as fresh as it used to be years ago. It was something I couldn't tell anyone.

I'd met her at the Archies outlet. I'd gone in to get a gift for my mom's birthday & there she was. The most beautiful girl I'd set my eyes on. At that time I was living off my pocket money from my parents & I had a fraction of it left. With all I had I purchased a greeting card with a beating heart & a rythmic song & by reflex gave it to her. She was impressed & i invited her to my mom's birthday. I didn't even know her name & she didn't know mine. However she came that night, she looked so beautiful that night.. ''Like a Goddess'' I thought. And that night I took her number & we began to talk on the phone. She sounded more beautiful then she looked. The more I got to know her the more I liked her. We'd meet at the cliff edge every evening, watch the sun disappear & that evening I poured my heart out. For one blissful moment I thought everything was lost but the next moment she hugged me. For some reason we kept our relationship a secret. She liked it that way. However she was unhappy about my lady friends & she became possessive. She wanted every second of my time. My freedom was lost & our relationship took a U turn. I stopped talking to her & answering her calls. She then got desperate & slipped a letter under my gate one night. I got hold of the letter before my parents got to know & got a rude shock. She'd threatened me with taking her own life by falling off the cliff the next evening if I didn't meet her.

And that evening was filled with mist & fog hiding the sun behind it. I'd come in earlier, nerves on end about her behaviour. And finally she came. When I saw her I pitied her. Her eyes were dark & she had cried a lot. But my pity turned to anger when she shouted at me, pouring out her suspicions about me & my friends, my life. I couldn't take it any more & I decided to walk away. But she grabbed me by the collar. I pushed her off me & she lost her balance. Before I could grab her she was down the cliff. I heard the scream & the thud. And this was my part of the story.

Monkey Business

Dear Almighty, I look at that shooting star in the sky tonight & wish I were a monkey. We have been living since the forests were thick & the rivers were full. Jumping from tree to tree, tormenting animals that cannot climb & enjoying the creeper ride whilst wishing I remain a monkey.

Up yonder that tall tree, grew plenty of arecanut. The buffalo & gazelle looked on hungrily whilst I made it right to the top with my super hands & feet and gorged the delicacy. I still remember those days when we used to huddle together as a single family, in a single file. My mother used to take off the lice on my back while I used to take of the lice on my sister's. It was so much fun playing hide & seek among the trees, swinging around the creepers.



Wind in my hair & sand on my feet, I used to hop around the woods. Up from my vantage point I could sense the malice of the approaching tiger & warn the gazelle of incoming danger. My tail wriggling back & forth I would rattle the branch to scare the owl away. I would fight my brother with broken twigs & we would then feast on the banana branches. The forest was full of goodies. Right until the arrival of the human being.



When they came the green forests turned grey, what was once our playground, was fenced & we couldnt play anymore. The food decreased as the trees began being cut. My family soon split as the others went far away looking for forests undiscovered by man. I decided to adopt to the changes and started hanging around with the tailless beings like many of my friends.

The food became so scarce that the remaining of us had to cross the fence to satisfy our hunger. The tresspass was not tolerated & my friends started getting killed one by one, either when dogs bit them, or when they were poisoned or when they were shot. What they worshiiped as their God were being hopelessly massacred. I had once stared down the barrel of that gun, but before he could fire, I ran away & hid in the forest.



I have no one to play with now & no food left in the forest. & so Dear Almighty I now look at the setting sun and wish I were not a monkey.




P.S. - In memory & support of all those monkeys being mercilessly killed in the malnad region by heartless cold blooded farmers.

Camouflage

Deep in the dark misty woods of the malnad mountains along the western ghats, situated on the west coast of India, there resides a plethora of animals. From the smallest to the biggest.

Each has its own way of survival. In this cruel world of green, there exists no rules of engagement & therefore no rooms for error, no points for second place & quite rightly as charles Darwin states 'Survival of the fittest' is absulutely necessary. The inhabitants of the forest are by themselves divided into two basic categories.

1. Predator

2. Prey

From a survival point of view, one has to be either fast in the game or one has to be clever, or the game is up. In this post I am going to have a wee chatter about the clever group. We have a few clever specimen with us right here in this post.



The first contender in this competition is the stick cricket, something what I personally call as the ''branch boy''. This perticular species has a remarkable ability to use the mighty deception called camouflage. An art which was copied by almost all armies & whose colourful costumes are sported by the most ruthless of dictators and the most exotic of dancers. By naturally being so thin & by possessing the colour of a twig, this clever whippersnapper masquerades as a twig for as long as he can hoodwink the potnetial prey into presuming that he is indeed a twig. And as soon as he gets the chance he hunts with top speed.



The second contender shown above is the ''colourless butterly'', I personally nicknamed him 'the swamp thing' by his colourless looks and his ability to copy the background in such a way that he appears invisible to the untrained eye. However he settles down in his new surrounding quite comfortably with the imperative knowledge that neither predator nor prey can spot him. Right until the moment the unsuspecting prey walks onto him, & he grabs them & its within his grasp in a second.



The next contender is the twig grasshopper whom I personally call the ''Green Beret''. By looking like the branch and leaves of a plant, he silently makes his way behind enemy lines without being spotted by predators casting evil eyes. The plant in itself with its twig & leaves is a source of food to many insect species like the butterfly, the beetle & the ant. Little do they know that the twig they are standing or walking on is the predator itself who at the first opportunity blows his cover & ambushes his prey with superatural speed.



However clever these contenders be, there is a special contender who has survived for a squillion years with his ruthless cunning & deceptive looks. He's none other than the Calote. I call him ''Rambo''. Although he looks like a dinasaur, he is far smaller in size. His tiny body is made up of many many colourful scales that imitate the branch of a tree. With strong limbs and a stronger tail, he can virtually traverse in any direction including downright vertical. His earlobes are invisible but some of the sharpest and its got a special feature of vibration recognition which many predators and prey dont possess. The 3 above contenders think they are the boss & are pretty overconfident about their deception, while our Rambo has already seen through their deception in seconds & combined with his own deception, hoodwinks them into thinking they are safe. With a quick microsecond lap of his sticky tongue, he gulps his prey in no time & wins the contest by a mile.

& therefore its upto you folks to decide whos the winner because I already have.

Remorse

There are a few misconceptions people have over others & point it out across to other people being too impatient & daft without even realising that they themselves are on the wrong track and they were wrong all along and others were right. But by the time they realise & attempt to redeem what wrong they’ve done, what hurt they’ve caused, it’s too late. I don’t know why I’m penning this thoughts down in this post, I somehow felt like from deep within, perhaps in an attempt to redeem the hurt I’ve caused to others. Turning the clock anticlockwise some thousands of revolutions backwards in time, I can remember a time when I did something really daft & by the time I realised that it was too late. But it taught me a valuable lesson in life, A lesson which turned the course of my life. Something I can never ever forget and I would like to share this with you folks.

I was a kid back then, in a constant process of learning. I come from an armed forces background. With my father in the Indian Air Force, he used to frequently keep getting transferred across the length & breath of the country. And with that I was forced to abandon my home, my school, my friends and everything that I loved & felt a belonging to. To top it all I had no sibling with whom I could share my happiness, sorrows, fears & jokes. This was one such occasion. We were taking the train to our new destination with all our earthly belongings. We were supposed to be travelling second class 3 tier sleepers with 3 berths on either side of a compartment within a compartment. As the train arrived, due to the rush & to our dismay the reservation was such that my parents were in one compartment & me in another compartment. I felt happy to be free & make myself some new friends and enjoy some terrific views across the window.

It was night by the time I boarded the train & everyone else who came from the previous stations were sleeping. I was given the lowest berth on one side, I showed my ticket to the ticket collector & slept closing the window, resting my head on my wee bag and covering myself with a thin bed sheet. The journey was a couple of days long. So the next day as I got up, I could see that there were an elderly Punjabi couple sitting in front of me and a scattering of a few other old villagers across the sides & upfront. The Punjabi man in front of me looked tall & powerfully built with a trimmed beard. I greeted them and introduced myself to Mr & Mrs Singh. Mr Singh appeared to be sitting cross legged on the berth with a shawl over his legs and Mrs Singh was lying next to him laying her head on Mr Singh’s thighs. They asked all about me and we had a refreshing chat. By their behaviour they appeared to be quite posh. It seems Mrs Singh was very sick & diagnosed with cancer & they were taking her to a certain town for chemotherapy.

As I looked out the window, the wind blew at my face and the trees swished past at great speed, but after time the trees seemed to be swishing slower & the wind blowing lesser lesser in intensity. And finally I could hear hooting & the train arrived at a station. As the train halted, Mr Singh asked me ‘Beta Kartik, Can you please get us 2 cups of tea from the station stall, here is the money. I smiled, obliged and quickly dashed across the platform & got them the tea. And so the train began chugging again & things were uneventful until the arrival of the next station. Yet again Mr Singh tapped me on the shoulder and asked me ‘Beta Kartik, Here is some money. Can you please get us a bottle of mineral water and some biscuits? ‘I obliged yet again nodding my head, dashed across to the platform and got what they wanted. And the train chugged again and everything remained uneventful until the next station arrived. Mr Singh tapped me on the shoulder & asked me ‘Beta Kartik, Can you please get us some breakfast from her station stall, here is some money. ‘With a hint of irritation at being used again & again I unwillingly obliged & dashed across the platform and got them what they wanted.

The train chugged on and the trees swished past again, I was lost in dreams and my reverie was disturbed by the tapping of Mr Singh, he said ‘Beta Kartik, the next station ahs arrived, can you please get me a newspaper, here is some money’. I was obviously irritated this time round. Why was I treated like a servant, why was I being made the scapegoat? Could I not enjoy the train journey without hopping across the platform at every stop? This time my anger took the better of me & I confronted the elderly man and told him upfront ‘What do you think I am? Your servant? Every station that comes, you ask me to get something or the other. I am not going this time. You look so strong & well built. Why don’t you go get the things yourself? Shame on you that you are using innocent kids like me for doing your jobs.’ By the time the other passengers questioned Mr Singh & reminded him to leave me alone as they were observing all this for quite a long time.

At this juncture the train had blown the whistle & started chugging on, Mr Singh was taken aback with my frankness & made a sad face & looked at me in the eye and asked me. ‘Do you really want to know why I was asking you to get stuff for me?’ I retorted ‘Yes indeed, I would definitely demand an explanation’. He then opened the shawl he was covering his legs on & I got the shock of my life. There were no legs. Both his legs were amputated up to the thigh. I was taken so aback that I was shocked. He then began narrating something I can never ever forget. ‘Son, I was a major in the army. And in the war in 1973 as I was leading my platoon to enemy occupied territory amidst heavy artillery shelling & firing, I stepped on a landmine and it ripped my legs apart and they had to amputate my legs to save my life. I am glad I am alive. My son lost his life while fighting terrorists in Kashmir. If I had my legs son, I would have gone to get the things myself and had my son been alive, he would have got it for me and I thought you were like my son.’ Saying this he hugged Mrs Singh & both of them began to cry’. I was taken aback, tears streaming down my face I begged them for an apology. And surprisingly after all I had done he apologised me & hugged me. We felt like one family, one blood, one caste, one religion as proud countrymen of our motherland. He then said ‘Son, we have sacrificed a lot because the country comes first for us above family, above religion, above caste and even above our own mothers. I hope your generation keeps up the esteem of our nation & let her flag run high and proud because son, if there is one mother above all mothers, its our motherland. Azad Hind.’

Monsoon Blues

When the wind whispers to the moon,
That I shall blow the clouds over,
To make you dissappear very soon.
And out came, out came the monsoon.



Pellet after pellet drenched,
Before the rivers got quenched.
And out trickled sunlight once again.
Shaping the rainbow out the rain.



But never blame the rainbow for the rain,
& learn to forget memories that cause you pain.
The last whispered wish of age,
Is to live it all yet again.

Bombay

22:00 25/12/2008

It was a hot humid night, the crescent had cast its dull grey spell on the sea making the coast look like a dark long silhoutte. It was past midnight & the tide was low. With no sign of a storm, the sea seemed as clear as a lake. It was the best time to set forth fishing. The crew of 5 had assembled on the docks, the nets were ready , the vessel was filled with diesel & supplies to last 2 months.

They intended to travel deep in the sea where the fish were at abundance but they had to be aware of the maritime border, not to wander far off & cross the border. Not so long ago a boat had done exactly that and it never returned for years. The captain held the map, the tricolour was fluttering up the mast majestically. The engines whined themselves on & the boat sailed along seaward as the crew bid adieu to their families. As the night grew longer, they let the helmsman keep watch at the bow while the rest of the crew took a cozy nap in cabins within the stern.

02:00 26/12/2008

Sometime later in the night, the helmsman saw the silhoutte of a boat & he could make out a blinking light coming off it. Was it meant to be a signal? The signals were coming on & off precisely 3 seconds to each other. It often meant a signall of distress. The wireless radio showed no signs of activity either. Strange..! Worried and frantic, he woke the rest of the crew. As they clambered up the cabin to the bridge, they could make out the signal more clearly. It was a fishing boat. Silhouttes of men waving hands were visible. But no one noticed that the flag on the mast was missing. The captain signalled back with the same pattern, a sign of approaching assistance.

As they drew level with the other boat, they observed the crew speaking a strange language, like that spoken in the neighbouring nation. They then assumed that it was another fishing boat that had drifted off the border and got stuck somehow. They helped the stranded fishermen aboard their boat. They then salvaged some of the equipment from the other boat that consisted of a few boxes, a few sacks & a black rubber inflatable dinghy. There was no sign of any nets. Were they really fishermen after all? Or smugglers? To reassure themselves one of them opened a box, to their surprise it was full of ammunition, grenades, assault rifles, RPG's etc. They knew that weapons were smuggled aboard dhows across the coastline, but never had they heard of someone hijacking a fishing boat. Eyebrows raised and tempers flared.

Before they could react, guns were pointed at them. The hijackers were not regular smugglers but someone more dangerous. They were asked to sail inland & drift close to the shores of Bombay. As they moved inland, the hijackers decided to catch some shut eye. The fishermen decided to act. The motherland that had fed and nurtured them was more important than their families & the nation's fate was at stake. It was time to act now.

They tiptoed stealthily to where the boxes were, opened them & armed themselves with the assault rifles but as they were loading the magazines, the commotion woke the hijackers who swiftly tried to subdue them. Overcome with a sense of patriotism & determination, they attacked back swinging the butts of their rifles. The standoff was short, they were overpowered and subdued in no time. The hijackers were better off without them. Their throats were swiftly slit and their bodies were thrown into the mighty sea where no one could find them.




The hijackers were none other than the 10 terrorists who attacked Mumbai on 26th December 3 years ago and killed around 200 innocent people, an event which shook the world. However this epic struggle & sacrifice of the fishermen seems to be forgotten in the pages of history. But heroes are heroes whether they are soldiers or fishermen & this is an attempt to redeem their sacrifice. Jai Hind.

A Chase

During tougher times, a snug cozy nap is something dearer than gold or diamonds. This is exactly how Mr Whiskers felt. He was the knackered old feline in the village. He was under lot of pressure from his human masters. The reason for their change in attitude towards him was a bloody rat. This adament rat was notoriously elusive & incredibly brave. There was a time when there was no rat menace & Mr Whiskers always recieved the royal treatment. He would gorge on the milk & meat fed to him everyday & would then lounge on his favourite cushion for his midday siesta.

Things had changed rather drastically with this new menace creeping in. At first the rat would go up the roof and make running & scratching noises all night disturbing everyone. Things came to a boiling point when the whippersnapper was involved in a variety of nefarious activities like making holes in rice gunny sacks, tearing off footwear rendering them unusable & eating the banana & arecaunut bunches got fresh from the plantations. He didnt spare spices or coffee either. Mr Whisker's inability was taken seriously as inaction & this could cost him his job, living & luxury. He had to do something & please his masters. He decided to set a trap to defeat the bandit. There was only one point of entry into the house through which the rat could come in. It was a PVC pipe that fed the sewers. When inside, that was the only way out. Mr Whiskers decided to ambush the rat right there.

Mr Whiskers began waiting for hours near the end of the pipe that night, the rat didnt turn up. As the wait grew longer, his patience began to ebb. And suddenly he heard a loud snap. He sprinted towards the source of the commotion & witnessed the rat finally. Trapped in a mousetrap, the rat's head had been crushed & his brains smashed to smithereens. It was a bandicoot and was almost as big as him. This time the mousetrap had beaten him. He hoped his master's wouldnt replace him with the mousetrap. To his luck, his masters were so pleased that they still kept him in their villa and he could yet again live a life of luxury in the village. However after a few days, there were strange noises again in the night. Drat!!! another rat... !!! Good luck Mr Whiskers.

False Summit

The snow had kept falling in tufts throughout the night. The day was chilled & quiet for the village folk situated next to Noshaq (a peak in the Afghanistan Hindukush ranges). It was yet another day of fun for Mohsin & Mehru. Kids born in the pathan family, they were not yet adolscents. The initial joy of snowballing was over, it had turned to a cold dread now. The sky was overcast, and yet they decided to fly their kite. Their ambition for the day was to have their kite above the Noshaq and thus ''peak the summit''.

Mohsin drew the kite & the held the roll as the helmsman. Mehru was the runner, she held the kite, gauged the wind direction & ran against the wind and left the kite after she ran some distance. The kite began soaring high up in the air as the wind tugged it along. To Mohsin's & Mehru's delight the kite soared way above the clouds, they giggled, clapped & cheered for they had achieved victory, defeated the mighty Noshaq and ''peaked the summit''.

However little did they notice the British Airways jet soaring high up above the clouds, far higher than their kite could ever reach. Little did they imagine that I was sitting at the window chuckling at their fate & my destiny. Yes I'd beaten them to it, I had peaked Noshaq and was much above them. Although I admit mine was a false summit, but so was theirs. Fair enough. So have I won?

The Nest

It was a warm sunny afternoon, I'd had a lion's share of delicious lunch. As usual I'd come to the front courtyard overlooking the plantations. There was a table & two wooden chairs. I sat on one of the chairs, put my legs atop the table & settled in for my comfortable afternoon siesta.

I suddenly heard chirping noises, it was coming from the nest on the guava tree up above. From a few days I'd observed, this bird couple was busy building a nest, twig by twig, feather by feather to make a cozy home out of it & lay eggs. This couple would do it every year, on the same tree. They'd make it their home, lay eggs, have chirping babies, feed the babies until they grew wings. And in front of a massive audience of many birds and us, they would teach their babies their first flight, like a ceremony. Once the babies were up & flying they would abandon the nest to build it again next year. The sweet sound of chirping filled my ears & sleep took over like a soft hallucinating cloud.

The chirping grew louder in intensity & frequency, it was as if it was inches from my ear. I felt uneasy and suddenly woke up from my reverie. The mother bird was indeed fluttering its wings and chirping inches from me, like it was in distress. I could sense the panic in her. I wore my slippers & hurried towards the nest. I saw a black snake gulping the babies, as I approached the nest, the snake hurriedly slithered down the tree & into the gutter hole before I could catch it. The grief striken birds left the nest & have never come back again. All happened under the watchful eye of their impassive compatriots.

Special Bulletin

There was a special function, a special occasion on a special day. Celebrations were on in full swing & the entire village was busy gorging delicious food & endless banter. It was the day where the night would be the full moon, an auspicious day. I was fasting & not to get tempted by the food, i sat on the far side of the house facing the street. I then came across this elderly gentleman sitting across me, who was also fasting. He was lost in the depths of a local newspaper. His eyes scanning & devouring every word on the newspaper like he'd found some lost treasure.

Its fascinating to realise how fast the mind travels, It took me 10 hours to travel 9000 miles across to where I was right now & it probably took him less than a second for his mind to drift from the local town, to remote areas of the country, the tensions in the borders, community clashes, rampant corruption, floods & volcanoes, growing recession, crazy dictators, the underworld, notorious thieves, teenage suicides, dirty politics, never ending court judgements, physcotic fanatics etc. After having transgressed across all these events around the world, when the mind finally drifts back to reality, to the quiet peaceful village I am in right now. Am I wrong in declaring that this place be the best place on earth?

The Dew Necklace

Early in the morning, after twilight had turned tail & the first victorious rays of sunlight trickled across th horizon, the mist had blanketed the woods turning my surroundings into some ethereal haze. I was on a mission unknown, lost & confused searching for destination unknown. Armed with a pen, a diary & a camera. The diary had her name all over it, the pen twisting & turning forth in an attempt to carve out her name again & again. The camera was not done with her yet. My mind was adrift with dreams about her like the beautiful princess adorned with the pearl necklace.

Perhaps mother nature was in a ruthless competition with me, it had its own green leafy princess, that princess of course could not be adorned with gold, pearls or any other ornaments but something that looked a lot more beautiful & would seem the zenith of awesomness if adorned on her.

And that necklace got to be known as The Dew Necklace.