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.