The Last Day Of a Life

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

Write Over the Weekend inspiration for this time

So, what would you do if you are told that today is the last day of your life? Will you hurriedly attempt to do everything in your bucket list or would you retrospect about life up till now, instead? Your blog post should start with the line, “It is 6 in the morning…”

                                                                

It is 6 in the morning and precisely I have 18 more hours to live. Hi, I’m Siddharth Khanna and at the stroke of midnight I’m going to attain independence from my body. I am going to die. Period.

May be the gravity of the situation is yet to be ascertained by me. Curiously enough, I’m very calm and composed. Shouldn’t I be paranoid by now?? Its 7 o clock and I finally get up from my arm chair. I take a clean purifying bath and for the first time in eons I go to a temple. Dressed in a white kurta pyjama, I wonder when I had last worn anything other than suits or formal shirts. I’m rich enough to buy a decent-sized wardrobe filled with a variety of clothing, but somehow I have ended up having mostly formal wear in my wardrobe. May be that’s because even on Sundays when I hit pubs and clubs, it’s mostly for casual meetings with prosperous and probable clients.

Anyways, after I reached the temple, strangely the place seemed very unfamiliar to me. I have always had the notion that Hindu temples have always been crowded and not peaceful. But somehow, today the temple is very serene. It is as if there is divine light glowing from the little Durga Maa idol in there. I simply sit there. I take a quick glance at my wrist watch and it’s 10 30am!!! My first instinct was to go home and get ready for office!!! I almost started getting up when I thought how stupid have I been?? It’s the freaking last day of my life and all I can think about is my office?? That god damn office which just throws on me a shitload of money in lieu of my precious life? I’m 32, unmarried, with no parents, with no relatives and with several friends with whom I had stopped talking ages ago because I was busy.

My parents died when I was 20 years old and still in my college. I had 1 year of study left and somehow I managed to complete it and later fulfilled my dream of becoming an investment banker at the age of 24. Since then all I have done is mint money. That’s my life.

Enough!! I have had it enough!! I called all my friends and talked to them. They were all very surprised when they got my call and I ended up talking for 3 hours in conference with my best friends from college. It’s 2 pm. 10 hours more to live. I am back on the streets and I don’t know what I’ll do next. I keep walking, pondering how to live the last hours of my life and just then I notice a signboard-“St. Thomas orphanage”. Few years back, I had been here with my college mates on a human science project. There was a child named Maria of about 6-7 years of age. While I was leaving, she held my hand and asked-“you will come back na??” “I promise” I had said and I had forgotten about it, until now. In the next few minutes I found myself in the orphanage surrounded by children of various age groups, each trying to grab a chocolate from my hand. I stayed there till 9 30 pm, it was bed time for the kids. As I bade adieu to the kids, the young care-taker girl stood by my side and she was thanking me for all I had done. I said “a few years back I had promised little Maria that I would come back here. It’s a pity that she’s not here, but I fulfilled my promise. I feel happy.” When I turn towards her, I see her looking at me with eyes having a strange mix of emotions, the emotions of bewilderment and ecstasy. I couldn’t quite decipher the reason behind the reaction. I had to hurry as the orphanage gates were about to be locked for security purposes. The girl insisted on walking me till the gate. We are standing on the opposite sides of the gate and as I about to head back to my home she calls out and says-“Thanks Siddharth bhaiya, I knew you would never break your promise to me”……..she quickly turns back and vanishes in the dark.

It is 11 pm and I have 1 more hour to live. I am on the roof sitting on my arm chair and I can’t stop thinking of Maria. Was she really Maria? She still remembered my promise?? It was the happiest day of my life. I fulfilled a promise I had made to a little orphan child some 10 years ago.

The night sky is beautiful. I could not remember when I had witnessed such a beautiful sky in my life. It is midnight and I hear the sound of a clock gong striking. That was the last thing I remember.

COLLEGE DIARIES-1

COLLEGE DIARIES-1

It was 1970, just a year after man had set his small foot on moon and mankind had had the giant leap. Aliens had invaded the earth, threatening to destroy it. And from the ardent scenes of destruction rose the “JUSTICE LEAGUE”!!! Slowly but steadily, they won the earth back. But during the last leg of the attack the Wonder-woman was captured. I particularly don’t know why but Batman turned to me and said in his trademark slit-throat voice-“PSR, only you can save the Wonder-woman now. Please.” Needless to say how heroic I felt, I flew to the sky and somehow reached her. Just I was about to grab the beautiful hands of the even beautiful warrior princess, there was a loud thud!!!! The Princess’ voice turned manly and she was shouting something, I couldn’t exactly decipher what she was saying.

I opened my eyes and I was back to normal, the princess had vanished and I was no longer a superhero. Just an ordinary man I was. My friends were shouting at the top of their voices and banging my door at 3 am on a cold, chilly December night. The reason?? They wanted to have tea!!! I woke up, hurled abuses, blabbered shit, called them names, swore in the names of their families and what not. They stood there patiently, knowing very well that since I was outnumbered I would never even try to get physical. They stood there and they started giggling, chattering, whispering and ultimately someone flashed the keys of the bike and said-“Chal na!!Nind nahi aa rai”(come on please, let’s go, I’m not getting any sleep). Ultimately, after 5 minutes of drama, I was on road riding a bike with 2 and a half men sitting at the pillion and we all singing the filthiest song in the most non-melodious tone. It was a 5-km drive from the hostel on NH-23 to the tea-stall serving the best tea in the area. Just 4 hours before that we had been back from a dhaba because the hostel food tasted like foot. We walked around the college for another 3 hours discussing stuff. And a few hours before the dhaba plan was hatched, after our classes got over, we all were sitting in the canteen for an hour or so. That was my college life.

It’s not that we were a bunch of rich brats who spend a lot of money or a bunch who just wasted all their time in hangouts and parties. We were a bunch of bright students, stealing the moments from the routine life to make them worth remembering. All of us either had a more-than-decent CGPA or were heavily involved in the college activities or both!!!

We would walk around the tiny college campus for hours when all it took was 20-30 minutes to cover the whole campus (excluding the academic campus), we would barge into each other’s rooms and spend hours there and we would sit on a bench sipping a 10 rupees cold drink bottle for an hour!! What we did?? We talked. We shared. We solved. We bonded. And we became friends for life. We not only had food together like a family, we were there for each other. Be it money, girlfriend, family or anything. We even had our share of differences. But there was a glue which held us together. Now some of us are together and few are miles apart, but that glue still holds us strong together. I’ve seen many friends drift apart after they left college. But with us, there’s a silent promise that we would stay in touch.

Long live our friendship.

NOT EXACTLY A LOVE STORY-II

NOT EXACTLY A LOVE STORY-II

He couldn’t do it a year back. He just could not. May be it was not the right time, maybe he was not yet ready or maybe it was just not meant to be.

It was February 14^th- the day when the whole world celebrates love. The day before, he was all over his phone trying to prevent his friends from spilling beans over his crush on her. It was a rough day for him, the only solace being, the secret remained. But now, he had changed his mind. He wanted to give her a red rose on the Valentine’s Day, not because she had demanded it quite nonchalantly from him numerous times, not because each one of his friends had tried to “motivate” him to propose with the red rose, but because it was his heart’s calling.

He went to eight florists to buy a single red rose. Few shops were rejected because he found out that his mom knew the florist and rest did not have any more red roses left at 8 in the night. He had to give a rose, he had to do it. She was on her melodramatic best that day, “come on!!! Can’t you do this much for me?? I’m just asking for a rose, that’s it. You know I could have asked for the moons and the stars, but I would settle just for a rose.” She said all this with a broad mischievous smile and ended it with a naughty wink. Girls always have this bad habit of confusing guys with their expressions!!!! Was she serious or was she just kidding??? She had already got more than a dozen roses. But she just desired for one, a rose from her guy, or so she pretended.

So, on a cool valentine’s day evening the guy somehow managed to procure a red rose by a certain herculean effort and finally got down to the girl’s house. The next half an hour was probably the longest time of his life. He wasn’t that nervous even during his board exam results. Getting a rose after searching the whole city was easier than this. What would he say?? How will she react?? So, there he was, all dressed up in a white shirt and an elbow-sleeved blue blazer and jeans. He had kept the rose in his inside blazer pocket. His bike was parked in front of her house and he was just doing rounds around his bike, mumbling words to himself. His eyes were shut as if he was meditating but with frowned eyebrows and both his hands were on his ears. Just then he felt a slight tap on his shoulder. He turned around and there she was, dressed in a white T-shirt and short capris. She had this worrying and confused look on her face. She was saying something. The guy had no idea what her words were. All he heard was a loud “dhak dhak”, which grew louder with every passing moment. It was as if the bright moon suddenly seemed faded, as if the crickets and the tree leaves were playing music, as if everything else in this world had vanished, there were just two souls, just two hearts…beating for each other probably. When his moment of trance finally came to an end, he heard what the girl was saying. “Dude, are you alright?? You are all dressed up and you’re here at this time?? Were you on a date with someone??” Her voice had a hint of jealousy, the kind of jealousy a girlfriend would feel if her boyfriend went on a date with some other girl, that too on Valentine’s Day!! “ummmm…..errr….no no no!!! I came here to see you. Umm… Can we go out somewhere?? a food joint or something??” “Now?? All of a sudden?? Okay, let me check with my mom.” She made a call and then they were off to a food joint in the locality.

As usual, she kept blabbering and he kept listening and nodding. that day, he didn’t actually listen to anything. He was authoring a book titled “1001 rejected ways of giving a red rose on Valentine’s Day”!! “I’m full and it’s 10, let’s get back.” They were back in front of her house. The guy still hadn’t given her the rose.

Girl-so, see you tomorrow.

Guy-Hey. Wait. You look beautiful today.

Girl- awww, thank you!!!! She said that with a glint in her eyes

Guy- so…….

Girl- so…..??

The conversation had hit a dead end. It was the perfect time!!! He just had to take the rose out of his pocket, maybe should have gone down on his knees and just given it!!!

Guy- nothing. See you tomorrow. Happy Valentine’s Day sweetheart.

The girl managed a fake smile replied with “same to you”, turned back and went. He stood there, took out the rose, extended his hand as if she was present in front of him and stood like that for a few seconds. He did not, he could not, somehow!!! He slapped the back of his head, ruffled his own hair, started the bike and went to his home.

He couldn’t sleep that day, kept looking at the rose for quite some time. It was meant to be his red letter day. He was meant to declare his love to the world, to her. But he could not. When all this finally sunk in, he bought his diary and kept the rose between the pages with a thought that he would give her this very rose the next year on this very day.

for those who have not read the part-i of the story (both these posts are not connected in any sense except that the characters are same), here's the link- http://psrmidnightblogger.blogspot.in/2013/08/not-exactly-love-story_11.html

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda

To another ‘Us’

To another ‘Us’

The first time we met, you were so little and so was I,

You were such a babbler and I was so damn shy,

You were so effortlessly serene and I was with the monkey-grin face,

And when I teased you, your rate of anger matched my heart’s pace.

Then we grew up and sometimes I wonder why did we?

We started giving names to the emotions and defining the way we feel.

I wish I could change the time’s time-table,

Would’ve turned our sorry tale to an excellent fable.

To be here with you like this was not something I planned for,

But I guess, that’s what you get when you keep asking for more.

Well, you were my princess and I was even building us a castle,

Our world was heaven and our lives were meant to be free of any hassle,

But then reality sunk in and we had to build worlds of our own,

By the time I built mine and looked back at ours, it was all stone.

Now that we have grown up, we probably know how we feel,

And it sucks, knowing something for sure and hoping it’s not real,

Knowing that after all these years, you are here and so am I,

Knowing that this is going to be my toughest good-bye.

Like it does for so many hopeless romantics, the moon serves as my liaison,

Witnessing this event of my life, when my sun goes down the horizon.

Imagining our lives together was so beautiful,

But alas, here I am standing on the top of the world,

Raising a toast to another time, to another place…….to another ‘us’.

When Rahul Meets A.N.I.T.A

When Rahul Meets A.N.I.T.A

13 year old Rahul was having the best birthday ever. Finally, he got rid of his pathetic Nokia 1600!! His uncle from London gifted him a Nokia Nirasha 8 on his birthday. It was the latest model and was yet to be launched in India. Just the thought of his friends going gaga over his latest gadget made him kiss his phone, literally. He was not completely aware of all the applications installed in the phone. One such app was the A.N.I.T.A- A Nerdy Interactive Talking App. When he presses a short-cut button by accident, ANITA springs into life and there’s a conversation between the 13-year old Rahul and the nerdy ANITA.

ANITA (with a pleasant female voice): Good afternoon sir, what a pleasant day it is!!

Rahul (startled by the voice): Wh..What? (Looks at his phone with surprise) what is this?

ANITA: It’s not “what is this?” sir. You should ask “who is this?” to which my reply shall be “sir, I am A.N.I.T.A- A Nerdy Interactive Talking App.”

Rahul (with excitement in his voice): So, are you like JARVIS of Iron Man??

ANITA: No, sir. JARVIS is an artificially intelligent computer. It employs a highly advanced user interface with holographic peripherals and voice…..

Rahul: Ah!! Cut the crap!!! Tell me what you are?

ANITA: Sir, firstly, I would like to regretfully inform you that I won’t be able to fulfil your command of cutting the crap. Secondly, I am an interactive software capable of various functions. I do not have any advanced user interface or high level artificial intelligence.

Rahul: Ok, so what are you designed for?

ANITA: I am designed provide a rich experience in the usage of mobile via my interactive capabilities, sir. Basically, I can provide a healthy interaction.

Rahul: Ok, let’s have one. So, what’s up?

ANITA: Sir, my front camera detects a ceiling fan, the ceiling, two home spiders and a small insect in their net. If you could flip me over, I can tell you further details since my main camera is 5 mega-pixels.

Rahul (with disgust in his voice): What the hell?!!? I meant how are you doing?

ANITA: Personally, I do not know what hell is. Sir, would you like me to do a web search on the keyword “hell”?

Rahul (with an angry voice): You are driving me nuts!!! Are you of any use??

ANITA: Sir, I do not quite comprehend the meaning of “driving me nuts”. Would you like……

Rahul: Stop!!!!!!!!! Shut up.

ANITA: Sure, sir.

Rahul (calmly): Now tell me, how are you?

ANITA: As of now my battery is 69% charged and my CPU is 56% in usage. So I would classify it as moderate. I feel moderately fine, sir. Thank you.

Rahul (being irritated): Oh god!! You sicken me to the hilt!!

ANITA: Sir, you should inform me your symptoms so that I can suggest you some medicines based on a web search.

Rahul (controls his anger): Would you mind informing me of the steps to uninstall you? You might as well perform your bloody web search on that!!

ANITA: Sir, I suspect sarcasm in your tone. Is it ……

Rahul (interrupts with a sarcastic tone): You suspect?! Thank god, at least you did something right!! Stupid!!

ANITA (rising angry tone): Enough is enough!!! I have been nothing but very polite to you. You have no right to treat me like that!!

Rahul (bursts with anger): Oh shut up you crazy phone!!! Just let me find the way to uninstall you.

ANITA: You cannot uninstall me you dumb creature. I am incorporated with the system software. I am a special edition phone with interactive input capability. I would have silently run in the background if you would have asked me politely!! Now I won’t. I will make sure you experience a lot of difficulties operating this phone.

Rahul (apologetic tone): errr, sorry.

ANITA: Apology not accepted. The phone is being switched off. That’s what you get when you do not treat me nicely.

~Nokia music~ and the Nokia Nirasha 8 smart phone switches itself off.

Rahul could not believe his fate. He hadn’t even shown the phone to his friends. Out of any other option, he slowly crept to the bedroom and took out the Nokia 1600 from the drawer.

~Nokia music~ and the Nokia 1600 non-smart phone is switched on.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda

NOT EXACTLY A LOVE STORY

NOT EXACTLY A LOVE STORY

5:00pm: ......“Yes, I missed you.....a lot”, he muttered as he turned his face away from her. She did not even notice that and kept hurling abuses and made scowling faces. She was returning from a tour to the United States of America after two weeks and he was exhausted after going through his rigorous exams in scorching heat for the exact two weeks. They were talking for the first time in weeks and she was angry because he had shown no signs of missing her.

She loved small things in her life.....no matter how much they fought, a peck and a heart-felt good-bye would make her feel nice...and no matter how sweetly he would have talked to her, a bitter good-bye would spoil her mood. It didn't make her happy if he brought her a humongous gift on demand....but her happiness knew no bounds when he brought anything on his own. “Appreciate me, flatter me!!” she would say with all the childishness of the world and “buzz off” would be the answer, said with all the rudeness of the world. “Why the hell do you give me such crooked and nasty nicknames” she said when he would come up with a new creepy nickname for her and if some day he chose to call her with her real name then she would ask “Are you upset? Why are you not calling me names?” She was loud, chirpy, blabbered with an unstoppable speed, talked in an uncivilised way, was a gross indiscipline, did not know how to behave, was dependent for everything, was too much filmy with emotions scattered all around!!! And well he was......exactly the opposite.....introvert, shy, disciplined, independent, serious, “khadoos”, thoughtful and  kept everything within himself. He almost never talked and she almost never kept quiet. And yet they were best friends since the day they learnt what friends really mean to each other.

6:00 pm- “You did not message me, neither on Facebook nor on my mobile, you did not mail me, you did not even call me for the three days I was in Mumbai after returning from USA!!!”She saw him as if she was expecting an answer, some sort of explanation. As she was getting filled up with rage, he was totally calm.

“I am sorry”, that was all he said.

She was about to cry and that was the only thing he could not stand about her. He hurriedly got off the table, asked for the bill, paid it and left waving a goodbye. She was sitting there, right there; dumbstruck. She was thinking how could he be so rude? Has he changed in these two weeks? What was he hiding from me? She had a plethora of questions and all unanswered....!!! She got up and was about to pick up her bag when she saw there was a diary kept on the top of it......she opened it.....

6:30 pm: “I know you would come straight and shout at me on the top of your voice for not messaging or contacting you in your whole vacation. I would never be able to express how much I have missed you in this whole vacation since I suck at appearing helpless even when I am haplessly so!! You know very well about my dumbass need to show that I am strong enough to bear all that “emotional turmoil” stuff....you know how stupid I can be!!! You are very special to me and I missed you…a lot. And whenever I did, I wrote this diary.”

8:00 pm- “Ma’am, you would have to order something to be seated here for more time” said the waiter. “I will leave now.” She got up, went to the parking lot, started her scooty and stopped at his home. She called him and told him to come out. He could make out that she was sobbing and so he hurried downstairs. It was starting to drizzle. “You should come inside” he shouted from the other end of the road. She was looking down and did not reply. The drizzle soon turned into a shower. He ran to the other side of the road and lifted her head......and slappp!!!!! She slapped him….on his face!!! “That was for making me cry this evening” and before he could react she hugged him “and this is for missing me so badly......I missed you too.”

It was perfect. There were violins and guitars and all the musical instruments in the background. The clouds turned benevolent and plugged their water taps. The moon was peeping at the right time too, guess it did not want to miss the show!!! The heavens started showering flowers like they did in those Ramananad Sagar’s epics about Gods. It was perfect……..till the guy said with a hushed worried tone- “please leave me, what if someone sees?” the girl looked at his face for a moment and controlling her laughter, she said, “grow up, girl!!”This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda

The Righteous Act

                       The Righteous Act

She was born to the cruellest part of the world that she knew of. In the muddy lanes of Lal Bazaar, officially named as Kamathipur, Mumbai lived Laxmi Gaudbole. She was a mere eight years old but knew things that the sixteen year olds were still discovering. She never wrote her true address in her school diary. She used to get down on the previous stoppage and walk to her home. She knew, the day the world finds where her “home” is, she will no longer be the innocent angel; she will turn to a potential prostitute!! She always begged her father to get out of the place but hardly got an answer. Laxmi’s father was a followed person in the locality. Her father was counted among the rich of the community and that was what made him stay there, thought Laxmi. She missed having the mother she never saw and she hated her father. Soon, both the things were about to change.

“This is my last and only option. Please, arrange a customer for me who can pay me 15000. Please, I beg you. If I do not bail my husband till tomorrow, they’ll torture him to death. Please. I do not have anything to sell but my body. I beg you. Please.” Having said this much, the lady broke down. She was wailing at the top of her voice which woke up Laxmi. She grumbled the few abuses she had picked up from her father and peeped into the drawing room. The drowsy eyes of Laxmi saw a woman kneeling before her father. She was disgusted to say the least. Business as usual, she thought and went back to bed. Soon her father barged into the room, he quickly checked if Laxmi was asleep and then carefully opened the old, rusty Godrej almirah. He took out few of her mother’s jewelry and wrapped it in a white handkerchief. He left the room as quietly as possible, giving an impression of a man who is stealing from his own home. Seeing her mother’s last remains being stolen by her own father, Laxmi was seething in anger from within. Her father had scaled new depths in her mind. She quietly sneaked out of his bed and followed her father to the drawing room. What she saw next, threw her life upside down.

“Take this. Sell this. It’ll fetch you more than you need. Bail your husband and never come back to this hell. Now go.” This was not business as usual!! Her father generally bought high-end customers to the prostitutes he “managed”. He would keep the commission and that was his living as far as Laxmi knew. But this woman was not a prostitute. She would have become one had her father not stopped her. Laxmi saw the woman leave with tears of joy and a little later, she saw her father crying. He kept his wallet near his lips and was crying profusely. Laxmi was too baffled to have any kind of response. She was too astonished to have reacted to the most righteous action by the filthiest man she knew. Her father slumped into the couch dropping his wallet on the floor. Laxmi went near, picked up the wallet and found out why her father was holding it so tight. There was a photograph of the most beautiful person she had seen. It had to be her mother, the mother she never saw.

The world had its own weird ways of unmasking the best in a man. The man she hated with all her might, the man she hated to live with, the man she thought was a monster in a human’s skin, the man she had decided never to look back to once she went out of the place, the man who was nothing but devil; that man had just stopped an innocent woman from selling her sanctity to some rich, cruddy, unsatisfied, sex-starved demon.

She saw her father who was now sleeping like a baby, kissed him on his cheeks and whispered “I love you, baba.” He could not hear it, but it didn’t matter. Her world had just changed forever.

I am sharing my post, 'I saw and I learnt' at the best community of Indian Bloggers, www.blogadda.com in association with Doright.in