Talk

Nasir comes back home thinking how he must teach the value of money and also of time to his brother-Nadir. It is not exactly his first attempt to do that.

"Today I shall speak to him. I am his only brother. Then who else will teach him, if not me? I am not worried about the money. Money is nothing when it's compared to Nadir. I hate money, but I'll save it for its vileness. Otherwise, I knew how it would strangle the poor lives and empty stomachs. In the days, when I was not financially as comfortable as I am now, I lost the money I saved for Nadir's Ist semester examination fee. Then I felt like, some unknown force, possibly the power of money punched me in the stomach. I scolded myself for a month and suffered badly for my recklessness. I could have asked Abba, but that wouldn't be gentlemanly because I already promised Abba that I would take care of Nadir from the day I start earning. I borrowed the money from my colleague and paid him back in the next month. But after that, I tried to avoid him and always felt ashamed of talking to him. My only concern is Nadir shall not feel these bad things and yet he shall learn how the world works in the easiest way possible...."

Contemplating thus, Nasir rings the door bell. A minute later, Nadir opens the door carefully tucking his mobile between his left ear and the left shoulder. After wishing Nasir with a smile, he goes on talking to his friends planning his weekend schedule.

Nasir, after he gets refreshed sets out for the kitchen, picking up some brinjals, onions and some mirchi which is almost dry from the basket stand in the corner and is constantly thinking of how to start the talk. Nadir hangs up the phone finalising the meeting place be Runway-9.

Nasir after cleaning the brinjals, keeps one under the knife of the vegetable cutter.

Runway-9? Isn't that a place for rich brats to beat their doldrums?

He cuts the green stem at its head.

I shall tell him that I cannot afford to spend money on these luxuries. Even if I can, I'm not willing to.

Two careful cuts to make it in four.

It would be too harsh to say things like that. These young people are too sensitive when they are taught sense.

He holds all the four pieces together, to cut them across. The first cut.

But What if he laughs at me calling me a counting machine?

Nadir shouts into the kitchen, "Bhaiyya, less chilli, last time it was too hot.. Do you need any help?"

Whatever, I shall tell him today. OK. I'll tell him as gently as possible. But why am I afraid to speak to my own brother?

Antoher cut and the knife goes over his ring finger letting the way for the blood that eagerly streams out and he cries an Ouch! Nadir goes into kitchen in a jump and runs here and there for cotton, when he finds his brother's finger is cut. He goes on like that till he finds it, not even listening to his brother who is actually telling him where it is. He wipes off the blood that is already out and uses it as stopper for his brother to hold. He takes over the kitchen for the day and orders Nasir to relax.

Nasir relaxes himself stretching his body on the bed that laid on the floor.

Nadir loves me as dearly as I love him. I am happy, my finger is cut. Actually I can cut it everyday, if such a love will be expressed by him. He is the sweetest kid I've seen. Haven't you seen how he was running -like crazy when he saw the blood? And here I am, counting every penny he spends and ready to lecture him at every opportunity. He is very young to understand this. He still needs time. On Sundays of our childhood, after lunch, we had to sit in the veranda and study for an hour before we were allowed to play. We had to keep watch for each other while my parents would take a nap inside. On a Sunday like that, Nadir just stopped reading and started looking into the air. To keep my watch, I asked him what he was doing. I am sure nobody can guess what he said. He said he can see something in the air. Later he corrected that he can see and distinguish hydrogen from oxygen if only he was a bit more attentive while taking his chemistry lessons. He said he can see some Ameba-like random structures sometimes merging with and sometimes breaking off from the other similar structures. First I didn't believe him. As he persuaded me to try myself, I tried but couldn't find anything. Now I believe him, he might have had really seen all that he described. He couldn't have lied to me. Based on this, can't he ... he who can see the things in the general crowd's nothingness, learn these lessons of life quickly? Do I really still need to teach him everything like sciences and mathematics? May be it is needed because I shall not always stick to pleasing and spoiling him. My only wish is in his being the best of the world with as less hardships as possible. May be I shall excuse this time and postpone this talk for some other time. Or may be I could do it only now.. otherwise I would keep finding excuses to avoid this dreadful talk...

Nasir eats, sleeps and wakes up with the same thought 'whether to talk or not to talk' for two days and suffers from a fever. Nadir gets surprised trying to relate the finger-cut and the fever..

On the brim

Something must have instilled the hesitancy between the two friends, to which they were not used to before. Though they were hiding it from each other under pretense, they only could sense it. So they wanted to be done with this affair as early as possible, not to delay it until they are completely entangled in the game of love, and mainly to save their precious friendship that was built over years. They talked incoherently and wept together for the imperfections of the human soul. They both didn't like it to be that way. Still some stupid sensuality held them guilty. They gave instructions to each other to revert to be simple friends without much hurting.

The gentleman being well disciplined whipped himself not to do, what he was not suggested to do. The lady, who was though as disciplined as her mate was, couldn't come out of this emotional whirlwind because of a selfish hope. Fools, Empty heads! All women are so. How much ever they get offended, they continue to wag their tails and lick the boots of their masters (Ladies, these opinions are not mine, but of a sufferer). At first, even I didn't see any offense in this affair. These women are much complicated than the Life itself. (Sounding like Bertie??) But now I understood what it was. I'll tell you later, how it was shown to me.

When they re-discussed about their emotional status, the man was upset for she was not yet recovered. He was irritated and angry with her for loving him, but still composed and explained her why he was against this. He said,

Dear, I am not prepared to have another wound, at least one that comes from you. Please believe me, I really love you. More than anyone. But this love is not what you are now expecting from me. Remember Esmeralda! Like the fingers of the same hand. Like brother and sister. That's how I would love ourselves.

To this she replied,

Well, my dear friend, do you know what you are doing all the while to restrict me and yourself from causing wounds to each other? You are not being like my friend and my fellow finger as you promised but purposefully ignoring and hurting me so that I could hate you. But I saw your struggle. I saw how much you hurt yourself when you are hurting me. I saw everything. Now I started loving you more. Not as you are fearing about. But with a typical human heart, I love you for the similarity of the pain we are suffering like brother and sister.

His reply was this,

Friend, I used to be proud of you and boast of it to others. How we used to sit together and share things over. Even when we shout at each other and swear not to reconcile again, I know, it was not true. How peaceful I used to feel when you were with me! But now, I am too worried to speak anything. I should check if it would effect your feelings before speaking anything. Believe me, I am even scared to hold your hand which was just nothing for me before. I am somehow feeling guilty for all this though I am not for sure guilty. My friend, be kind and be like my good friend. Care me, but as if you don't care me (This phrase is stolen from my friends) Be angry with me when you are hurt not with pain but with real anger. Hate me for the stupid things I do. Then I would come back and ask you to forgive me. I love to do it. May be, that's why, I used to tease you. Do you know, now I want you to tell me about your crush and how you are mad about him as you used to tell me, then I want to discuss with you if he is OK for you or not. I am dreaming for something like that to happen. Don't analyze too much of my words. Many things are beautiful, when you perceive them with simple heart.

She replied,

Dear, I want to let you free, from my love, from the origin-less guiltiness you are experiencing and myself too. Till now, I didn't understand how our friendship could be a block. I considered it as an advantage, because it isn't formed to serve the purpose of something else but built by us with pure intentions. And we both knew it. Thrashing my hopes on you, you are expecting me to think of somebody else. Isn't a delicate way of rejection? Genius you are.. (Did you get it now? This is the offense I talked about earlier.) Forget it. Forget it forever like nothing happened. Let's weep together once for all and forget it. I like this friendship of ours as much as you do. I am also proud of it. I want to hold it higher in my life not in reach of its impurities. If something dirty has already stuck to it, let us clean it. No trace shall be left. No trace, anywhere. Let's freeze it in our simple hearts.

Now, the authoress of this story has nothing to continue, but feels happy to let their friendship overtake everything else. She is not sure if she is really happy with this ending or still pities her characters.

Engagement of deception

I am just like you, a bit talkative, emotional, honest, intelligent [I think so ;) ] and sometimes over-confident. Then why me when I am no different from anybody? Why am I deprived of cherishing those days of youth. Why is it all filled with that person who promised me the moon but gave me up for a good-looking and dowry bringing rich lady. I couldn't convince myself that it is only because of money. I can't make him accountable for such an unforgivable sin. Isn't it unforgivable?? I looked at him so high and never would be able to imagine him otherwise. May be , not so high, because he started lying to me from few months, even when it is unnecessary. May be, he is testing if he could successfully bully me. Even after all this, I had a hope, a feeble one, that he is just faking but actually the person he presented to me along with his propositions.

After I heard of his engagement with that rich lady, I am shattered. There was nobody at home except my little sister, to whom I shall behold the stature of an ideal inspiration. So I busied her to watch her favorite show and locked myself in my room. I thought I should better talk to some of my friends. It was too late. But who looks at the clock to disturb a friend? I know beforehand what they would say. I know how typical their consolations would be.. But still would want to listen from them. All of them said the same thing but in their own style that he doesn't deserve me and that I shall be happy to have ridden of him at last. I suspect they are happy for what happened. They reminded me of their prophecies that we weren't a match. I talked to them as if I believed all they said.

I laid on my bed and remembered the days when we played as innocent kids but with a favoritism towards each other. I knew him by birth. Everybody was jealous of us, because we help each other and nobody else. I remembered when somebody made a mountain of suspicion out of our closeness with each other. I was badly insulted but was happy somehow. I stupidly enjoyed each moment my parents positively remarked about him and wouldn't talk to him for a day or two if it was a negative remark. It wasn't that I was angry with him for what he did, but I felt he should behave properly like a gentleman when my parents were around. I didn't know why I got that notion. Later on, when he proposed to me, I realized, though I never talked to myself regarding this wish, this was what I always waited for. Then everything was clear to me and I understood myself. I don't regret for missing the state of being in love and then day-dreaming for the day of proposal. Whatever happened to me is exactly the way I wanted.

I came back from my reveries because, after that nothing happened to amuse me. It was a skill of few to make you feel guilty before you ask them for an explanation. He got that. I was never happy with him again. But I tried to find happiness in the misery of my state. I believed in my love unknowing that it would thrash me someday like this. They say.. Time heals the wound. But I can't even bear this unreasonable wound till that time comes. It is painful and scorching.

Not yet!

A month passed. I hadn't written even one post. According to the resolution I have taken, today is the deadline to fill this place with some crap. My mind is a bit unstable with happiness. But still I write.. not for the sake of writing as somebody saved me from doing that.

I am happy for many reasons. Today, I met an old friend Smitha at Sowmy's wedding after months. She is not certainly of my kind. But I heavily get influenced by her. She criticises curtly, but she talks all the logic of some perfect world. I admire her for what she is. She threw her ideas to me, after which I wanted to re-write the story 'Lonely Together'.

Before I go re-writing it, here are few more reasons for my happiness.

I fell in love again for the fifth time. You must be knowing by now, that I can fall in love 1000 times(less??) before I die. Have you heard of Nikolai Gogol? The author of Dead Souls. He is the mixture of all my previous crushes and much more. The only bad thing about him is he doesn't know the marketing strategy. He picked up a scary title for such a nice book. If only I am his adviser, I would have given the book a nice title and made him as well-known as Tolstoy and Dostoevsky. I recommend this to all the book lovers. Thank you so much Nasheeda, for taking all the troubles and being subjected to suspicious looks to gift me such a lovely book with a not-at-all suited scary title.

Yesterday was Dostoevsky's birthday. I celebrated with eclairs. Laughing?? Why shan't I? He is the one who kept me busy enjoying the troublesome phase of my life.

We pick out only few from a bunch of friends and call them 'best friends'. When we pick them, we really won't have clear reasons for 'Why?'. We do it blindly with intuition. But when they stand up for you and think what is best for you and keep you to the path when you are straying away, that brings a kind of satisfaction and happiness you can't easily express but can only wipe off the happy tears in embarrassment. Lucky is me to have my best friends.

Today, Sowmya and Ram got married. Their wedding is a simple and happy one. Ram's students made it all bright shouting and dancing. I am happy for both of them. They make a good couple.

Now to the story editing.

The lady of the story, how much ever is she attracted to somebody, she knew when to stop getting the 'crazy excitements' for her mad love and when to stop running after somebody without their consent. For her marriage and love are two different things. They can be put together only when everything goes in sync. She thinks love is full of transient emotions and marriage is only the practical one. She chose not to choose her partner with emotions and chucked him out of her life.

She got married to someone(the same poor fellow of the original story), but why she chose that 'someone' we don't have a clue. She was happy about him. But he remained like the same gloomy poor soul of the O.S(shortcut for the Original Story. I may have to refer to this many more times for it is merely the comparison of the choice consequences). She laughed at his silence. but why? Don't ask me. I am only as much knowledgeable as you are in this matter. What I knew is, she didn't act like his wife but someone he should play his cards right to pursue her. Of-course, he didn't give any heed to her. But she is not disappointed. Why should she be? It is not love to feel that insecurity. She always kept herself available for him with open arms.

He was OK to talk to her as in-charge of the house(as in O.S). In-fact he started liking her, but our hero with torturous conscience felt it sinful even to think of his wife as his own. But everything that isn't yours will pass off. His emotions for his wife took over his gloominess. He courted her with flowers and hummed songs in casual manner but were only meant for her. She smiled to herself with peace at heart that could come only with a wedding.

On 21st December, 1988. he bent his knees to propose to his wife as childishly as a 17 year old will do to his 16 year old girl friend. He changed his lines from usual "will you marry me?". You must observe, they already got married and there is no point in asking her to marry him again. So he said "Forgive me my wife. I had been stupid and took this much time to enjoy the life. I am not as boring as you have seen till now. I can make a good husband."

Now when she is 42(as in O.S), they celebrate their wedding anniversary on 21st December. When they get compliments like 'ideal couple', they try looking pleased for they don't really care for what others say about them. They are happy with themselves.

PS: Title is chosen to shout aloud that I am 'Not yet' dead.

Error in connection

I hated her on our first meeting because she refused me to try her sandals as if she was a Cinderella. But she loved me all the time, may be because she knew that she'll be involved in the cause of my pain and took pity for me. While I started getting symptoms of my pain, I rejected her affection and hurt her as much as possible. I just wanted her away, but even after all the trials, she never left me.

I took a special day, to feel this pain completely and get off with it. I felt it in my tears, flowing uncontrollably onto my cheeks soaking my pillow. I believe, wet cheeks are the best way to exert the coldness. We shall not carry the resentments forward, they spoil the mental health. Then she came. She bent over me brushing the hairs (that fell on my forehead) backwards with her fingers. She forcibly made me sit, not considering the repulsions I posed and hugged me caressing my head with affectionate patting. This humiliated me very much. If I had not accepted her love and ask for forgiveness then, I would have treated myself a heartless now.

I rested my head on her shoulders taking her as my best friend and resumed to weeping. This was continued for a while. When she thought she gave me enough time, she took my face in her little arms and wiped off my tears telling me 'everything will be OK'. Then I saw her eyes suffering more than myself not even having the comfort of tears or a caring companion. I replied her 'Yes, everything will be OK'. I kissed her and she paid it back.

The next three days were just crazy. All the day, we sticked to each other. Talked restlessly about everything. Ate together. Neglected everyone else. We even shared the bed and continued talking till the eye-lids were tired and sent us requests to shut our mouths. Our friends gossiped we might have turned lesbians. It reached us soon. We laughed at the idea. She looked at me asking impishly 'Are we ..??'. I answered her pretending to take a serious tone 'Aren't we..?'

Though we brushed it aside laughing, I feel we would have been proved lesbians unless we got the stopping signals in the form of scary gossips.

Lonely Together

At this time, my confession is utterly useless for it doesn't know it's target or it's objective.

I'm a woman and of 42 years old with two kids. Yesterday was our twentieth wedding anniversary. Our kids insisted us to have a small gathering with common acquaintances and we had the party. A grey haired gentleman in the neighbourhood, whom we invited for the dinner said, we were the ideal couple he had ever seen. Me and my husband looked at each other and thanked him trying to look flattered. We know what we are not. His comments (probably compliments) heavily perturbed me. I slept very late and woke up early for this confession.

A long time ago, before I got married, I was attracted to a person, who was equally attracted by me I suppose. But for the cautiousness of people in the early stages of love, we didn't talk of it and later we never talked for we were so similar even in our bad qualities. We used to carry ourselves with excessive pride, showing it whenever necessary to wreck the other as if we were weighing on our shoulders the hatred for each other from generations, forgetting that we were actually in love and it is love that is to be shared.

Before we could move an inch in this affair, I got married with another person. It was an arranged marriage but not a forced one. For about four months, I hadn't known what was happening around me. Probably, most of the time was spent in travelling and receiving new people. When we two were left alone to live together, I came back to this world. First day, I didn't cook. He didn't complain and brought some food from outside. I didn't eat. He hadn't asked me to eat.

I convinced myself that it was me who was guilty, who was to take the punishment. So I decided not to trouble this poor man with my childish behaviour. We voluntarily shared our responsibilities to run the home. We started talking to each other about money, food and the home and readily agreed with each other. We made love for the irrepressible craving for the sex, without attraction, without passion, without love. We had kids but never had been really attached to each other.

I guess, he was also punishing himself for something through this marriage. Otherwise, we would have been divorced on the first day, we were left alone. One good thing is, we don't have any qualms about each other and are socially comfortable. We never fight because we never talk more than that is necessary. We don't walk together. We don't hug. We don't care for each other and never shed a tear. But still we will be called an ideal couple at the price of our lost dreams.