I'm ashamed to admit that my next three posts would be based on the real incidents. I couldn't have been inspired to write by the sufferings of my dear friends, but writing is irresistible when something is real and also painful. At some parts, you may think, I'm exaggerating greatly, but no. I am dumb and cannot go creative even to extend a single letter to what I knew or have experienced. I am writing here without their knowledge. I hope they'll never come to know about it and feel more depressed of being used for my writing pleasure.
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
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..
"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..
Wednesday, August 05, 2009
Surprise
I was at the foot of the mountain called "Social Relations" which is bright on one side and dark on the other. I started from the brighter side with so much shyness and fear of strangers. My mother says one of my teachers, scared of my reclusiveness advised her to consult a doctor for a check-up if I was mentally healthy. As I climbed up the mountain through rocks of shyness, feelings of unworthiness, I could only make those three or four friends.
But surprisingly, when I reached the peak, everybody I spoke to had become my friend. I lived like 'The wanted" for most of my friends. There it wasn't all bright but I enjoyed all those hues of nature. I don't know why I didn't stay there in that heaven. I had become squeamish and choosy in the matter of relations. I started hating people for trivial things though my intention was to love them. Only recently, I understood that I was making my return journey through darker side of the mountain.
I try but cannot keep to myself by my nature and wouldn't even get along with people. Here in this darkness, when someone offers a hand of friendship, I step back for the fear that my finicky mind would certainly wrong that beautiful hand someday if not today. Sruthi surprised me with a pretty note for the friendship day. I was shocked as I never expected one from any of my colleagues and certainly not from Sruthi. To you it may seem nothing of importance, but it was a shock to me. If I have myself as an acquaintance, I wouldn't have dared to meddle with such an inconstant mind. For now, I replied her only with "Thanks" and haven't advanced further.
But surprisingly, when I reached the peak, everybody I spoke to had become my friend. I lived like 'The wanted" for most of my friends. There it wasn't all bright but I enjoyed all those hues of nature. I don't know why I didn't stay there in that heaven. I had become squeamish and choosy in the matter of relations. I started hating people for trivial things though my intention was to love them. Only recently, I understood that I was making my return journey through darker side of the mountain.
I try but cannot keep to myself by my nature and wouldn't even get along with people. Here in this darkness, when someone offers a hand of friendship, I step back for the fear that my finicky mind would certainly wrong that beautiful hand someday if not today. Sruthi surprised me with a pretty note for the friendship day. I was shocked as I never expected one from any of my colleagues and certainly not from Sruthi. To you it may seem nothing of importance, but it was a shock to me. If I have myself as an acquaintance, I wouldn't have dared to meddle with such an inconstant mind. For now, I replied her only with "Thanks" and haven't advanced further.
Friday, July 17, 2009
This can't be a story!
Nashi has been reading Romeo and Juliet ever since Chichikov brought it for her. Every time I ask(beg is a better word) her to finish that and give it to me, she would divert me so cleverly reading few lines out of the book and telling me how beautifully things are exaggerated. She must have told me about Romeo's description of Rosaline for some twenty times. Now I don't think I'll enjoy this part when I read it myself.
Recently, when I asked her how far she read, she has suddenly become excited and told me "It can't be a story. It must have happened to Shakespeare himself or otherwise to someone very close to him." I was surprised for usually we hear people saying "This can't be true!" if they don't see a possible mapping to the society they live in or they would say "This must be based on a real incident" if they can see a close mapping. But the way Nashi declined to accept that it is a story made me laugh.
She tells me "For someone who haven't read it, the sketches of Romeo and Juliet will be quite deviated from the real ones. They are very natural. They think just like you and me. If their love is considered true and great, ours shall be no less to them."
I mused over this for some time and got to this reasoning. R & J's love is great because love gets its honor only after death.
Recently, when I asked her how far she read, she has suddenly become excited and told me "It can't be a story. It must have happened to Shakespeare himself or otherwise to someone very close to him." I was surprised for usually we hear people saying "This can't be true!" if they don't see a possible mapping to the society they live in or they would say "This must be based on a real incident" if they can see a close mapping. But the way Nashi declined to accept that it is a story made me laugh.
She tells me "For someone who haven't read it, the sketches of Romeo and Juliet will be quite deviated from the real ones. They are very natural. They think just like you and me. If their love is considered true and great, ours shall be no less to them."
I mused over this for some time and got to this reasoning. R & J's love is great because love gets its honor only after death.
Sunday, July 05, 2009
Aftermath
Seems like somebody is angry with me because I am as happy as before. Now I am more happy because they are angry with me. How much I was troubled with his indifference! His being angry is at least better and comforting. But I have to admit that I am constantly feeling guilty for being so proudly expressive at the cost of a rare friendship. May be, I wouldn't have expressed my love, if only I knew that it would be considered so big a crime.
My well-wishers, thank you for the concern, but don't talk of who deserves what. That hurts me more. I'm not in teens to find solace in the lies you tell.
Friday, July 03, 2009
Other Stories
The Meek One
Again a clash of young and old, of wanna-be-idealists and self-preserving monarchs, of dreams and the reality, of passions and the experience, of excitement and complacency. Story of a couple, an young wife, full of morals and a proud husband, revenging himself on the society as a pawn broker. It is written in the husband's voice. He makes a complicated and yet beautiful love story out of his wife's murder. Yes.. I call it a murder though she commits suicide. He killed her with his silence and with his magnanimity caring her even after she attempts to kill him.
The husband is a mad man(I call him so). He loves his wife but never does he express that. Still he claims that she has to understand him without any explanation. But how is that possible? For her, he is just a stranger. Then how is she to know that he loves her but doesn't show it for that is his nature? She apparently thinks that he doesn't love her. Anybody in her place would do the same.
I tell you, silence is terrific than the terror itself. One's heart keeps swinging like a pendulum with wild imagination and mostly one would make it swing towards the terror just to get used to it if in case.. So the terror is felt even before it actually starts. It gets worse, when hope glimpses from the far end. One runs quickly to the end where hope is seen just now. But on reaching there, it fades away like a star that sometimes disappears. One would scorn oneself for running there with impossible hopes and marches back with gloomy face. An oath will be taken not to repeat it. Again hope will be seen from the corner of the eye and one tries to avoid looking at it. But very soon one runs off there unable to stand against the power of hope. It just repeats itself till the actual terror comes on stage. This wild running is just impossible to bear unless you are bound by some strong reason.
The husband leaves her like that in dead silence thinking that he is actually giving her time to understand him by herself without his having explain or express anything. Irritated by this, she revolts back insulting him. She gets some gossip from his enemy and calls him a coward in the face. He still keeps quiet though he can defend himself for he thinks she has to know it by herself without any explanation (Fool?) One day she tries to shoot him when he is (pretends to be) sleeping but gives up doubting that he is just pretending. Even after this, he still goes on with his silent mission of love. She gets used to living like a dead. She falls sick and he takes care of her very well but continuing his silence.
One day our hero suddenly realises that he is losing her for nothing and everything will be settled perfect if only he talks. Seized by the moment, he expresses his love to her. She gets taken aback with 'stern amazement' by his love even after she tried to kill him and she couldn't bear this truth that he loves her like that. She takes all the guilt upon herself for she couldn't understand his silence and his attention towards her. Unable to bear her husband's generosity, she kills herself.
Dream Of A Ridiculous Man
I won't write anything about this story because I am afraid I would misguide you from what is necessary blabbering some nonsense . I beg you all to read this by yourselves. It is very much necessary. It relieves you from the suffering even at least while you are reading it. Solution to the universal problem is so simple. We can practice it together. We can be happy again and we will not need to love the suffering. After reading this, I told myself that I shall I replace all the 'hate's in my hatred poem with 'love'. I can't change it on the go, but as I try loving less of myself and more of my fellow-beings, I will replace each 'hate'. Then someday, there will be a beautiful poem of love, with love in each line and in each one. :)
Again a clash of young and old, of wanna-be-idealists and self-preserving monarchs, of dreams and the reality, of passions and the experience, of excitement and complacency. Story of a couple, an young wife, full of morals and a proud husband, revenging himself on the society as a pawn broker. It is written in the husband's voice. He makes a complicated and yet beautiful love story out of his wife's murder. Yes.. I call it a murder though she commits suicide. He killed her with his silence and with his magnanimity caring her even after she attempts to kill him.
The husband is a mad man(I call him so). He loves his wife but never does he express that. Still he claims that she has to understand him without any explanation. But how is that possible? For her, he is just a stranger. Then how is she to know that he loves her but doesn't show it for that is his nature? She apparently thinks that he doesn't love her. Anybody in her place would do the same.
I tell you, silence is terrific than the terror itself. One's heart keeps swinging like a pendulum with wild imagination and mostly one would make it swing towards the terror just to get used to it if in case.. So the terror is felt even before it actually starts. It gets worse, when hope glimpses from the far end. One runs quickly to the end where hope is seen just now. But on reaching there, it fades away like a star that sometimes disappears. One would scorn oneself for running there with impossible hopes and marches back with gloomy face. An oath will be taken not to repeat it. Again hope will be seen from the corner of the eye and one tries to avoid looking at it. But very soon one runs off there unable to stand against the power of hope. It just repeats itself till the actual terror comes on stage. This wild running is just impossible to bear unless you are bound by some strong reason.
The husband leaves her like that in dead silence thinking that he is actually giving her time to understand him by herself without his having explain or express anything. Irritated by this, she revolts back insulting him. She gets some gossip from his enemy and calls him a coward in the face. He still keeps quiet though he can defend himself for he thinks she has to know it by herself without any explanation (Fool?) One day she tries to shoot him when he is (pretends to be) sleeping but gives up doubting that he is just pretending. Even after this, he still goes on with his silent mission of love. She gets used to living like a dead. She falls sick and he takes care of her very well but continuing his silence.
One day our hero suddenly realises that he is losing her for nothing and everything will be settled perfect if only he talks. Seized by the moment, he expresses his love to her. She gets taken aback with 'stern amazement' by his love even after she tried to kill him and she couldn't bear this truth that he loves her like that. She takes all the guilt upon herself for she couldn't understand his silence and his attention towards her. Unable to bear her husband's generosity, she kills herself.
Dream Of A Ridiculous Man
I won't write anything about this story because I am afraid I would misguide you from what is necessary blabbering some nonsense . I beg you all to read this by yourselves. It is very much necessary. It relieves you from the suffering even at least while you are reading it. Solution to the universal problem is so simple. We can practice it together. We can be happy again and we will not need to love the suffering. After reading this, I told myself that I shall I replace all the 'hate's in my hatred poem with 'love'. I can't change it on the go, but as I try loving less of myself and more of my fellow-beings, I will replace each 'hate'. Then someday, there will be a beautiful poem of love, with love in each line and in each one. :)
Wednesday, July 01, 2009
Most Unfortunate Incident
Hilarious. Dostoevsky never gave me a chance to bring back the severe expression which is generally used here for the public etiquette. I kept guffawing inside and covered it with suppressed smiles just to keep those manners.
This is the story of an young General (higher official in some department) who brags about the humanness to his old friends/colleagues (Please mind that, here the adjective is by the age :P). He defines 'humanness' as one's well behaviour with his subordinates and servants. His friends who had been once young and boiled their blood in the same way for social problems will just laugh at him saying that one cannot keep the humanness. But our hero is not to give in so easily and sets out to show them with an example by attending his servant's (whose salary is only 10 roubles) wedding uninvited. He thinks of complimenting the couple and then having a cup of drink only after the pressing requests to do so and then to talk about the present problems of Russia and to leave after that immediately. He expects that they would feel gratified by his presence and pass on the information that such and such General had come for his wedding to his grandchildren.
Unfortunately in the present case, nothing of the sort happens. The servant gets bewildered on seeing His Excellency. Though the servant is obedient, the General faces difficulty in finding the trace of life in his eyes. The General keeps feeling that nobody there likes him and are laughing at him for some reason. Many times, he feels an urge to take leave but doesn't for he thinks that is improper. He is offered two bottles of vodka and then wedding dinner with much pressing by the groom's mother. But somehow, he offends a man, who happens to be a contributor to 'The Brand', a magazine. Later, the contributor to The Brand insults the General calling him 'Retrograde' for the umbrage he took. At this point, the General bursts out and almost comes to crying. He jumps off from his seat and sets out to leave. But he drops on the floor by the first step and falls asleep.
Now Dostoevsky completely changes his view of things from the General to the servant. The servant is a poor wretch and is often laughed at by his colleagues to have bath at least once in a month. On a fine day, a retired officer calls him, to offer his daughter with a dowry of 400 roubles and a wooden house for the good his father had done him when he was alive. His would be father-in-law also tells him that his daughter has seven devils in her and it is his responsibility to beat her and drive them away. Though he knows that he can neither handle a father-in-law like him nor a wife who has devils in her, he accepts the marriage for the 400 roubles, he is badly in need of.
When he is counting kopecks for the wedding expenses, here is His Excellency like a bolt. He already spent for those two bottles of fine vodka, His Excellency drank. Now the General is on the floor sleeping like a baby. The Servant gives up his bridal bed to His Excellency even after many reproaches from his bride and her mother. The groom's mother nurses the General like her own son till the next morning as he suffers from diarrhea. When he wakes up in the morning and recollects all that happened, he flushes himself out with shame. He finally agrees with his old friends (again 'old' is by the age) that one cannot keep the humanness.
This is for everybody with a variance in levels. Specially, rachhabanda daggara rechhi poyi rachha chese valla kosam. ;)
Good News: Himalaya Book Centre has finally got Dostoevsky on the shelves, unfortunately all I read.
Bad News: Today is 1st of July. Chichikov is singing.. "June pote... July gaali.."
This is the story of an young General (higher official in some department) who brags about the humanness to his old friends/colleagues (Please mind that, here the adjective is by the age :P). He defines 'humanness' as one's well behaviour with his subordinates and servants. His friends who had been once young and boiled their blood in the same way for social problems will just laugh at him saying that one cannot keep the humanness. But our hero is not to give in so easily and sets out to show them with an example by attending his servant's (whose salary is only 10 roubles) wedding uninvited. He thinks of complimenting the couple and then having a cup of drink only after the pressing requests to do so and then to talk about the present problems of Russia and to leave after that immediately. He expects that they would feel gratified by his presence and pass on the information that such and such General had come for his wedding to his grandchildren.
Unfortunately in the present case, nothing of the sort happens. The servant gets bewildered on seeing His Excellency. Though the servant is obedient, the General faces difficulty in finding the trace of life in his eyes. The General keeps feeling that nobody there likes him and are laughing at him for some reason. Many times, he feels an urge to take leave but doesn't for he thinks that is improper. He is offered two bottles of vodka and then wedding dinner with much pressing by the groom's mother. But somehow, he offends a man, who happens to be a contributor to 'The Brand', a magazine. Later, the contributor to The Brand insults the General calling him 'Retrograde' for the umbrage he took. At this point, the General bursts out and almost comes to crying. He jumps off from his seat and sets out to leave. But he drops on the floor by the first step and falls asleep.
Now Dostoevsky completely changes his view of things from the General to the servant. The servant is a poor wretch and is often laughed at by his colleagues to have bath at least once in a month. On a fine day, a retired officer calls him, to offer his daughter with a dowry of 400 roubles and a wooden house for the good his father had done him when he was alive. His would be father-in-law also tells him that his daughter has seven devils in her and it is his responsibility to beat her and drive them away. Though he knows that he can neither handle a father-in-law like him nor a wife who has devils in her, he accepts the marriage for the 400 roubles, he is badly in need of.
When he is counting kopecks for the wedding expenses, here is His Excellency like a bolt. He already spent for those two bottles of fine vodka, His Excellency drank. Now the General is on the floor sleeping like a baby. The Servant gives up his bridal bed to His Excellency even after many reproaches from his bride and her mother. The groom's mother nurses the General like her own son till the next morning as he suffers from diarrhea. When he wakes up in the morning and recollects all that happened, he flushes himself out with shame. He finally agrees with his old friends (again 'old' is by the age) that one cannot keep the humanness.
This is for everybody with a variance in levels. Specially, rachhabanda daggara rechhi poyi rachha chese valla kosam. ;)
Good News: Himalaya Book Centre has finally got Dostoevsky on the shelves, unfortunately all I read.
Bad News: Today is 1st of July. Chichikov is singing.. "June pote... July gaali.."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
