Bending The Epiphanies !!

“Good morning, Anjel!” Advint called from behind. “Please!” she said “don’t come along with me!” slicing the air with her hand scratched with nails, three red fine lines and a newly inflicted scar was visible on her hand. “What happened to your hand, had a fight at home?” asked Advint ignoring the poisonous words suffocating the atmosphere. “What that got to do with you?” she skipped away in a jiffy leaving Advint in a muddle of questions, what wrong had I done?

O, poor Advint’s story ended without even having a sliver of beginning. Advint having not further descending down the stairs of love into the abyss of suffering and loneliness, adjusted himself to the circumstances or maybe I should put it this way, circumstances adjusted themselves in a maze which ultimately paved the way for Advint….but to where?

Exactly, eight days after that incident at the same stroke of eight in the morning when the minutes hand divided the 12, a voice so soft “Hh Ee Yy, Stop, Please!” Advint froze, his feet dug in the ground, cemented he stood after he recognized the vibrations. Anjel came bursting at him, “what on earth has made you so imperious, you stone hearted! What impregnated you so badly that you turned away from me! You snot, have you got brains or what!” He stood dumb, with his dead tongue. Circumstances have got their own way of handling our lives. “Sorry, that morning I was not in my senses.” And she skipped away in the similar fashion leaving Advint contemplating what time is it when I will find her in complete senses…

A bird just got his wings and Advint was preparing his letter, not love letter but a letter. On an A4 size white paper, he started arranging the words cut from the magazines and newspapers. A big red ‘B’ slightly tilted and just below it was a green ‘H’ straight and a blue ‘Y’ staring firmly at bottom right of the page where scarlet ‘D’ was smiling brightly. After an hour he got his letter ready perfumed with rose scent. With roses blooming in his heart, the aura of pure fragrance surrounding his body and the halo of love directing his descend down the stairs of love he went straight away at the stroke of eight in the morning, waiting for Anjel, hoping to find her in complete senses. She arrived and he stumbled a little, the letter in his hand, quivering, he said with his trembling lips, “wait Anjel, please, I have got something for you.” A harsh sound, “What, I’ve got no time.” He handed the letter to her and skipped away the way she used to, tremble to think was she in her senses?

She opened the letter, a fragrance so pure, so divine writhing around her and it read out

“BE HAPPY MY DEAR FRIEND…”

“What a fool, he is! What am I supposed to make out from this cloying scent laden poor piece of paper, pffhh!” she laughed snobbishly, the letter failed, obviously. Next day she went to Advint and just said, “Baby, Grow up!”

Never again did Advint face Anjel in his life, for the fear of response from her that may have completed his descend down the stairs, or may be of his own trepidations about the circumstances that never favored him which might have pushed him further down the abyss…who knows who can guess…life has both roses and thorns distributed all along the course and Advint collected the roses of his way and covered the thorns of the ‘letter owner’ with them…

It was a hot after-noon, the sun shining relentlessly in the middle of the cloudless sky, radiating the scorching hot rays on every single particle sparing none, the alleys filled with suffocating smoke exhaled from the traffic, on the edge of street a Pan-Wala smearing the betel leaves with his crafted flavours, a Sardar Ji frying his famous Amritsari-Naan, a Chaat-Wala tossing the Chaat to heavens and sprinkling Masala on it, a Chai-Wala preparing the fountain of Kadak Chai and so forth went the endless street of shops upon shops and customers upon customers, that if you drop a handful of sand in the street not even a single particle will touch the ground…

And there in the middle of the street was Advint facing the acrid pollution smoke and the obnoxious smell of people blended with the incense of Masalas going down his lungs burning the nostril hairs, he cared not; for he had more issues to care for; he ambled further and slightly wobbled another person beside him; before Advint could have said sorry that fat red-eyed sod started lashing his tongue out on him and Advint didn’t utter a single word in response. He walked further crossing the street very carefully as if passing through a cave of molten lava where only few steps are there to put the foot upon. He reached at the end of the street and while crossing the road on which the vehicles were gliding away with speed of light he heard something unusual in the cacophony.

A child was crying in the middle of that busy road, and the explicit crying sound piercing straight to his heart through ears was inevitable to ignore for him. He with great trepidation ran towards that child and took her away in milliseconds from the car coming like a bazooka and rolled down to the other end of the road holding the child in his heart. People encircled around not to help but to watch a free circus and who in this intelligent world would be so stupid to not come around! Suddenly, the same fat red-eyed monster came out from the crowd and snatched his daughter away from Advint and doled out, “Thank-You.”

He gathered himself up, his body bruised badly and with broken glasses and stick he started moving again toward his home. It is better off than to have eyes; of what good the eyes are if they can’t see the numberless scars inflicted daily on the sacred land of one’s heart; of what good the eyes are if they can’t distinguish a human and a piece of furniture; of what good the eyes be…thought Advint and thanked god for not giving him eyes that obscures the purpose of life… 

Railways budget is out and it went over the head for most of the people commuting everyday in the trains of which the minister was boosting about in his speech. For me, it was an attempt to apply superficial layer of make up over a damaged face and moreover I guess the minister was suffering from prosopagnosia, and hence illuminating MADAM G’s face with glaring touches instead of railways!! What artistic skill he had, o! Mother India how lucky you are!!                                           One day a Mango-man unfortunately happened to bang into the minster’s compartment while travelling in the train and reluctantly hit the conversation…

The minister, “How could possibly someone blame me for this huge platoon of people(bloody pieces of shit) growing exponentially and travelling freely in this free developing country!”

Mango man, “Sir that stampede in Allahabad took 40 lives and damaged the whole railway station. And sir(son of a ****), where do my tax money go if safety is not ensured?

The minister, “Look, you responsible citizens(Jack-***es) are jeopardizing the lives of your fellow travellers. Please citizens put your fingers down!(in your ***es)!”

Mango man, “Yes sir(c**k-sucker), I would have done it in shame but the safety is already jeopardized to the very extent when the punctured wheels of your train move on those rusted adulterated steel rails!”

The minister, “Here it is! You people(Nuts) take away railway property, land and whatever you could possible embezzle and then brag about safety and wage fingers on me!”

Mango man, “Sir(d**k-head) yes they did do that, but had you not siphoned off their homes and accounts, would they be there?!”

The minister, “Enough of your stupidities, now piss off!”

Mango man, “Sir(c**t-shop) thank you for your precious time, here is a pleasant present for you.”

Disclaimer: The name ‘Kasab’ is fictitious. Any resemblance to any real person living or dead is purely co-incidental.

He was standing at the altar of food technology block, reminiscing, bidding goodbye to his golden days spent there and marching forward towards the mechanical block to enter a new phase. The first day for Kasab in the mechanical department was like a dooms day. Only god knows what he felt on this first day in the biggest block, proud or scared? Where not to talk of girls but their shadows were too afraid to cast an imprint on the floor, where even witches found themselves intimidated! Kasab was like a plum-pudding who found himself alone among the indigent boys hungry since ages and he capitulated and got eaten away in seconds or metamorphosed or got incarnated with something totally inexplicable in words.

Days passed, the virus which infected him the first day was gaining control over his mind, girls and only girls he dreamt about day and night, he was the only one who analogized the machine mechanisms to his wierd dreams and only because of his ingenious innovation the boys were able to pass the exams. The status quo was no more the same, he was exalted with his every quixotic innovation he come out with, but in some corner of his heart he felt alone, he longed for a companion who can quench his thirst of centuries, who can shower the rain of love on his drought stricken heart, who can fill the cracks of ages with the benevolent touch. A heart after all, is not stone and why must it not brim with pain of loneliness…

In search of the companion for whom he longed to heavens, he chalked out a plan after all an engineer was he and nothing to be done without planning! Computer science block topped his list of most favoured destinations to look out for; he bounced there with his new spectacles fixed with binocular lenses, new T-shirt with heat sensors attached, and shoes fixed with sound dampeners. He observed every single creature to the length and breadth minutely and after having observed the various dimensional attributes, he made a list and showing magnanimity he included all girls without eliminating anybody.  Strategically, he decided to go for seven(his lucky number) proposes per day. As the days, weeks and years passed, all blocks were covered by him in the ultimate search for a soul-mate and during the Valentine week each year, he even quadrupled his rate of proposing. But who can win against a cruel fate, it was not destined for him to meet his beloved.

After all his expeditions in search of his beloved, the only word which echoed in his ears was ‘NOOOOO’ buzzing day and night like a mosquito. But he was a man of implacable will, and this was his last valentine in the college for which he would even put his life on stake. This time he went out not to return empty-handed but with the only soul-mate he sought for years, the rate with which he was proposing the girls was soaring to the skies, scientific calculator was loaded with numbers to calculate the statistics, he had put everything he had in this mission. As the sun started sinking down the horizon, Kasab totally enervated to the last fibre lay splattered on the ground. Every leaf and every twirl knows the state of his being, only the blossom doesn’t though the entire garden does. While he lay, the silhouette of another face covered his, as if the shadow was kidnapping him. Suddenly, the shadow vanished nimbly away. In the morning, when Kasab was shaken up by gardener, to his surprise found an envelope lying beside him. He sheared the envelope only to find the confession of a girl draped in the fragrance of red roses who was in love with him since the first day he proposed.

But wait, Kasab is not happy; he still holds that cadaverous look! O! His damned fate, the letter was anonymous… And the voyage of love begins now…

The bus came to a halt with a screech, wobbling each passenger in their sweet sleep. Advint was the only one who came down and the bus leaving the trails of smoke behind left. The same crumbled road he noticed and the same abandonment he felt, in the middle of the night he was alone standing on the brink of that forked road of memories, covered by the thick layer of fog and the frozen wave of air piercing through that blanket of fog and crystallizing everything to the very point that even a touch would crack the skin. Barking of a dog and vibrations of the nearby diesel generator inextricably linked together was the only ghostly-voice beating his ear drums. An old black bag, somewhat worn out was tucked to his back tightly as a baby. The night was not as usual but colder than ever before, darker than ever before and lonely than ever before. With every step he took the cloying memories nauseated his heart, for him it was not easy to comprehend.

It was a sunny morning, back 4 years ago, Advint stood there on the same crumbled forked road with a black bag, waiting for Zeeny who was so dearer than the dearer. To pour his heart out was one hell of a boulder on this heart so heavy crushing him with every breath he exhaled. While he was busy in mitigating the feelings and exploring his vocabulary to find suitable expressions, Zeeny showed up. Before he could utter a word, a shadow emerged slowly beside her and Zeeny excitingly introduced her new boyfriend! Had he dared to say anything that moment it would have hurled the mountains. Congratulation was one singular word he managed to throw out with his half dead tongue. No one can guess the amount of internal injury by the size of the wounded holes! He meandered away, packing up all his fantasies. Perhaps there was no pill but time was his only medication and the more he get, the better he become, passed his graduation and with an inexorable will to never return moved away.

In between these years when Advint was battling with the weird chemicals released now and then inducing feelings difficult to encounter and his soul consumed in the fire either had turned to gold or ashes. For zeeny life was always larger than what it was for others, for she had never turned down anything fancy, for her the river of life is as straight as a line. A year ago, while returning from a party, Zeeny totally inebriated and driving at rocket speed smashed the car into the pole booomm!! The car crushed as a paper, Zeeny was dead on spot! Fate is what people blame to cover their carelessness, condolences and commiserations flooded her home from every acquaintance except one.

After a year, when Advint confronted the news, all strings holding him together in one piece broke; all will to not visit vanquished; the fire which still shimmers in his heart froze. There was something which never belonged to him that burdened him throughout that he purloined for Zeeny, the black bag! For him it was his liability to make sure it reached its destination, and that night he was the bearer carrying a bag full of rotten stinking withered roses making his way through the labyrinthine maze of graves to the ultimate destination Zeeny…!!

I used to think about the greatness of this nation, in terms of its tolerance towards such diversity of cultures, religions, languages etc. Wow!

“What a nation where people with so much diversity writhing around their lives still managed to have a space for others, having so much complications and differences still they shared heart with each other. Voila! What a paradise, and had I not been born here probably I would have not got my heart swollen in pride!” said an old septuagenarian.

At one moment I too got slipped into the fool’s paradise and I was happy to be there but it was just a momentarily relief but only till I, unfortunately happened to bang my head into the newspaper, screaming, loud cacophony into my ears, albeit it can’t speak!

The first page straight away splashed mud on my face! Corruption seems to be a fundamental right, freedom of expression is sedition (don’t you dare to express), human rights are a luxury only for elites! Art houses are vandalised, pictures are held hostage to the appeasement of certain class, writers are mopped as if some earthworms, cartoonist sent to jails for just lampooning, peaceful protests are a great threat to national security (RAW is keeping an eye on those, don’t you worry!), the onus of social security lies on the public not on the govt (mind that!) and last but not the least is our MANGO-MAN who expressed his mind on some social network and got Goosebumps in the form of some alien charges levelled against him.

May be that old man has gone out of his mind and had spent his life in some other country and now giving nostalgic descriptions and obscuring the facts. Albeit, I wish to have my life spent in the same country where that old sod spent his!

(NOTE- free-speech is available at all govt exclusive outlets and showrooms, anybody interested can buy it for free!! Till then shut you filthy mouth!)

Fireworks piercing the layer of fog and illuminating the darkened sky, after the news broke out, about someone directly helicoptered to the second highest post of the most corrupt party where his mother reins over the decadents!! WHOO0PP! Who is that person, some genius might be!!

How ascetic this little child is, showing no signs of megalomaniac and trying to fix a robot to the most powerful remote controlled chair!

Nobody shall mock this infant trying to gulp the bitter medicine of statistics in this small infant age! And he is no less than an Einstein, though talent not recognized! Poor country!

Growth means growth, irrespective of its area! Growing a beard in this small age is no less than a life-time achievement, another talent wasted! RESPECT this kid, you Einstein!

Condolences! Don’t you worry kid, it is not about winning or losing in Indian elections, it never was! It is all about participation with anticipation! Cheers!

Aung san suu kyi, aunty! You seriously need to join the coaching classes with this genius kid, to learn the ‘Fundamentals of Dynastocracy’!

Lohri it is, ‘celebration on the eve of winter solstice’, particularly celebrated in Punjab with all zest and animation, by now all over India. Children would start collecting fire woods, dry leaves, whatever they find suitable to be burnt days before, huge speakers are set vibrating with vociferous Punjabi tones forcing one’s feet to move reluctantly, ‘Mumfali, Gajak and Rewri’ are three main ingredients which you can spot at any Lohri celebration blindfolded, a bonfire is set in the middle encircled with chairs and containers in front overflowing with the nuts and desserts. The flare and blaze of fire, instantly at one time going beyond the sky slicing the air and bestowing benign heat on everybody regardless of any discrimination, each eye glitters with dreams and aspirations, each one prays for prosperity, as if god is standing with aureole and one turns the face nimbly away as radiations start overheating. The evening is set beautifully and now most awaited after enjoying the feast, Bhangra and Gidda, two unique dancing styles without which every festival is incomplete, here in Punjab. The feet would not or should not stop dancing until each fibre of the body is completely twisted and the last drop of energy is spent. The affluent satisfied(money well spent), completely enervated, lands up in their warm bed as the night darkens and the shimmering light of bonfire is left alone in that bone chilling cold with dew falling relentlessly.

      Not to my surprise, the dimming charcoal is not alone in that dark cold night, outside lies a plethora of homeless, indigent and  impecunious with every breath they exhale, trouble the god with questions along with prayers inextricably flooding out from souls. Barely nothing to shield from this crystallized frozen cruel air, little to eat except a peanut a day, lies chained with each other as if they are permanently fastened till death, as if some aliens are thrown down form sky in exile on this earth, alas! Poor mother earth for how long will it be able to take this boulder, god knows! Not to talk of impotent Homo sapiens, but what kind of omnipotent god is he, where is his benevolence, or is he getting bankrupt of all his powers? Who knows, who can guess? For those suffering abject conditions, they must have done some heinous acts in their previous birth hence facing consequences, believe those self-proclaimed god-man amassing huge treasures of wealth!

Blasphemy it is, for one and reality for the other! For you, one festival ends, money well spent, another waits in the line to be celebrated as if each festival is competing with another, just for the sake of supremacy, as if one section is competing with another to show their opulence over another. At the other end of the world, a section waits for its prayers to be answered, but every time they only and only hear the echoes of high pitched loud speakers killing every weak vibration!

And the almighty but cadaverous GOD, along with his blue-bloods watches the circus shamelessly!!

Amidst this freezing cold and spine chilling wave of anger across the country among each section of society be it young be it old be it men or be it women one thing that amazes is the force with which the things are taking their course. The force which has made everybody come together on a single platform regardless of their differences, the force which has pushed each one to join the movement against the rising crime against women, the force which shook the power corridors of parliament, that enormous force is to me none other than EMPATHY. We the educated people of this sophisticated society are so much moved by the recent Delhi gang rape case that it leads to a movement rather a mass movement demanding for justice and stronger laws. One is so empathetic with the victim that he/she literally shivered putting himself/herself in the victim’s shoes. Each good family felt tomorrow my children could be the victim of somebody’s evil carnal desires. Each one felt the need to push the jammed government for stringent laws. How compassionate my countrymen are, voila!

But am I the only conspiracy theorist to call it a ‘Selective Empathy’. May be yes, but here’s the fact provided by the ministry of home affairs.

These are the rape cases reported or which catch the light of the day

and not to my surprise double will be there which were pushed under the carpet. Before this Delhi gang rape case there happened a series of rapes in my own state Haryana, in fact I would rather say not brazenly but ashamedly it become a rape state with 367 cases(first six months of 2012) inflicting more scars on this already shredded society. If one could go down their memory lane he/she would not have forgotten the Assam girl stripped in front of a camera in a posh area. Each day minor or major educated or illiterate upper caste or lower caste faces the socially accepted phenomenon in India euphemistically called ‘eve-teasing’. But that doesn’t seem to have provoked the masses before, does it? We never went to that limit to seek justice for those above listed rape cases reported in the year 2011 but for that survivor.  It was simultaneously bewildering and inspiring to see the thousands of people protesting against the brutal gang rape of a 23 year old physiotherapy student and the merciless beating of her male friend a 28 year old software engineer. The circumstances in which the couple became the victims of the bestiality are what the most in the bustling metropolis encounter every day.

It may seem impolite, even callous to assert that the rage in Delhi is emanated from the hierarchy of sorrow we have created. The young see themselves in that brutalized couple, they felt the emergency to coax the system even the remote controlled P.M. came in front of camera to deliver a speech though totally bogus and ineffective. We never have seen ourselves in the thousands of denizens who faced the same brutality in this country. As for our bustling metros, we do not get furious as long as the rapes and heinous crimes are confined to slums. Had Delhi been a city with a conscience quick to prick— had its people been habituated to wagging battles for others? If yes, then for how long have we been quivering over the plight of others?

Perhaps there is no reason for me to be perennially pessimistic. The future need not always resemble the past. It is possible those protesting and feeling emphatically with the victim will understand the pain and anger of the marginal suffering the same torments. Hopefully, we will break the boundaries of power that preserves and confines us only to those of our status. Hopefully, we will not believe the tendentious narratives of the state and accept the exploitative culture of society. Our redemption as a people lies in smashing the hierarchy of sorrow and culture form our hearts and society!