Xorotor Xewali

Xorotor xewali
anim moi butoli.
Anim moi
Parijaat pahi.

Rongakoi rodaali
thakibo umoli,
bojabo bahi.

Aakakhor meghali
hoboje mukoli,
dekha pai
tumar hahi.

Aandharor junaali-tirbir torali
dhorale namibo,
tumak ahi.

Piritir gojali
melise aajoli.
Dekha nai keloi
mur dehi?

Nirjon poduli
Mukhorito kiriili,
Koina xaji
aha o’ senehi.

Xeetor aabeli
dehar um dim.
Dim moi moromor
taap lahi.

Tumi mur dewali,
Bihu rongali.
Tumi bin kongali,
Jen moroha gulaapor pahi.



Tumar Hahi

” Kar moromor aaxat jolala ei saki?
Mur bukut jui jolai.
Tumi bisora xopun dekhi,
tumar hahit,
mur ei xopun roi jai.”

” Xunor kharu, mugar mekhela juri,
jotone thoisu moi tumale xojai.
Premor dumujat asu moi joli.
Asu moi,
Tumar babei jiyai.”

” Xidina podulit asila thio di,
abegot hiya-bhorai dusoku tiyai.
Kar baabe ei morom?
Asa tumi
kar baabe baat sai?”

” Aru moi rou thomoki,
premor nila kham jepot lukai.
Hiyar dhumuha – monor jatona,
bukut hejar xopun bandhi,
uthot misa hahi biringai.”

~Migom and KMnO4

Peshawar Attack-A wake up Call

The dastardly act of the mass-massacre of innocent school-children at the Peshawar School in Pakistan on 16 Dec 2014 is beyond condemnation. No words can alleviate the loss or the pain of the sufferers. No words can describe the gravity of the pain. Our heart goes out to the ones who have lost their little angels.

What was their fault?

‘He went out in uniform, came back in a coffin’ my eyes got misty as I read the wails of an inconsolable father in a newspaper. What could one say! These kids- these little kids, what was their fault? They didn’t even know properly what religion is! What politics is what a war is or what death is! These little hearts, naive enough, to even judge the good from the evil- the God from the Devil were brutally slaughtered for no fault of theirs! It was their age to study and play and have fun, fight over an ice-cream, get pampered by their parents and their loved ones; and there they lay in a casket.

I fail to understand- does any religion approve of it? Is it justifiable by any human? Islam- meaning peace. Is this peace? Jihad- I don’t really know what it means and I really don’t want to know it if I too can commit such inhuman acts knowing it. I fail to understand whether those who do such things are even human. I fail to reconcile with it. And I find it difficult to accept that Islam allows it. People have really manipulated the meaning of Islam a lot and have used it to fulfill their vested interested. And the stupid ones are brainwashed to do such stupid gruesome acts, giving them the lure of 72 virgins and shit, leading them to cause bloodshed and massacre, not to mention their own lives being lost.

Islam is a very obscure religion. The language in which the Quran is written is extremely obscure. Even intellectuals find difficulty in understanding the true meaning. Moreover it has been passed over generations, by various modes of transfer, and this is my personal belief that any book when passed generations after generations undergo changes- deliberate or undeliberate. So possibly, much has changed from the original book and stuffs that meted their selfish agendas of some people might have been added by them with time. And even if that is not true, the obscurity of the language has been exploited by pseudo keepers-of-the-religion to give a different connotation from what it really was and to spread it among the vulnerable people who don’t understand the language well, making them do wrong things. What else can explain even educated people like engineers- doctors and all joining the ‘Jihad’ under ISIS or at other places?

For long Pakistan has been blaming India for all their worries. It’s time to stop and introspect now. What went wrong? How long will you be in a denial mode? I know this might not be the right time to castigate you, but the sooner you start the better. ‘You can’t keep snakes in your back yard and expect them to only bite your neighbours’.

Even now some of the Pakistanis have not missed the chance to put the blame of this massacre on India. “India, we will NOT forgive you for this atrocity! You chose the day of December 16th to rub it in. We stand firm, united & will crush you!” the 50-year-old ‘security analyst’, Zaid Hamid lashed out on Twitter. And there were many others backing this bullshit. How long will keep on with you hate-India theory. People like you are leading Pakistan towards self-destruction. And how long will the imbecile be allow themselves to be victimized by such shrewd people who are doing nothing but business to keep themselves powerful!

Pakistan has long nurtured the terror groups in their land to use them in their proxy war against India. And yes, to a large extent they have been successful in doing so; the 26/11 Mumbai attack being just an example. They have long unleashed terror in the border areas of Jammu and Kashmir using their home-grown terror outfits, chasing the locals to take shelter in refuge-camps, leaving their homes and cattle back. They have even fought the Kargil war with the militants fighting shoulder to shoulder with their army. But now the snakes that they have kept are biting their keepers.

It is time Pakistan wakes up and rectifies the things that they did wrong. Getting Kashmir through threat is something they’re never going to achieve. So they should look into the lands they have and try to improve the life of their people. And if still, they want to stay in a denial mode and stick to their idea of supporting militancy than God save them. Every other day there is a suicide bombing in Pakistan and in this rate it won’t take much time to self-destroy Pakistan.

Every life is precious. Be it a Hindu or a Muslim, this side of the border or that side. I fell happy to see the solidarity shown by the fellow Indians in the hard time of our Pakistani brothers. Nothing can bring the lives back, but I just hope that 16 Dec which was remembered as a day of animosity till now is remembered as a day of the dawn of goodwill and trust between the two nations.

I pray for the departed souls.


Porns Rapes Noodles

Does porn make you rape?

The hardcore conservative people will say ‘Certainly it does. Porn elevates the sexual urge in the youths and the teens and that lead people to rape’. Let’s assume it to be true. Then why does the aged people rape? Why does Asharam rape? Why does a father rape a daughter? I don’t know whether they watch porn or not, but people like Asharam will never accept they do. Neither do they have unavailability of sex! They are people with wives and children. Then why did they rape. Also if watching porn would have made people rape, I believe almost every youth and teen must have been a rapist as I believe 90% of Indian youth and teen watches porn (I’m not sure of the rest 10%). So, watching porn certainly doesn’t make you rape.

Does watching porn make you not rape?

I think this idea is equally flawed as the former. Can anyone say that all the people who raped had never watched porn in their life! I don’t buy that. Of course there might be some who might not have access to it. But today with the availability of cheap android phones almost every autowala-rickshawala has such videos in their phones. Thanks to the easy availability of internet and the vast ‘awareness’ created by facebook now everyone knows where from to get such stuffs easily. Of course supporters of porn would say-It releases your sexual tension so makes you calm, which might be true to some extent. But if you say one who watches porn never rapes, I would not accept.

Does noodles make you rape?

This is the most nonsensical yet amusing logic that I have heard in the recent times. Thanks to the Khap for entertaining me. Jokes apart, the Khap should think before making such comments in such a delicate issue. I belong to the land –the Northeast, where eating noodles is too common. So according to that logic, the Northeast should have been the rape capital of India. But it’s not so. In fact it has much lesser of such incidents than the mainland India-UP, Bihar, Delhi etc. I don’t know even why I’m trying to disprove such an illogical statement. The Khaps and the right-winged communal people have always tried to maintain the male dominant society, and give lame excuses for a male’s wrongdoing or accuse the women for everything. They have said that girls wearing short clothes make people rape them. Now even if they wear short clothes, if you’re a moral and ethical person, why will you do such an inhuman act! And what were the 7-8 years old (or even smaller) school girls wearing, who became rape victims! Statements like ‘Boys will be boys. Mistakes happen’ by powerful politicians just promote such sick-minded people to do so.

Who rape?

Rape has nothing to do with watching porn or not or girls wearing short clothes or not. It has everything to do with the mentality of the person. It has everything to do with the moral upbringing of that individual. It has to do with the family he has been brought up, the environment he has been in. While you cannot blame the family if their sons do such a dastardly act, it is the duty of the parents to try to impart some moral values in them, while they are just kids. They should be brought up in a right environment where they themselves don’t see such things which they can emulate later in life. Also there is a growing need of talking openly about sex and stuffs with kids. Hushing up will only cause them to get these knowledge from wrong sources which might even mislead them.

Also knowledge about such things at a very small age can be harmful. It is okay if the child has become matured enough to understand what is right and what is wrong. But if you watch it from a very small age you might be going the wrong way. Because once you know all that, there will be a strong urge to do that, and when you’re not even able to judge what is right and what is wrong, you’ll have an inclination to it, and might not be ready to change your stand even when you grow up and understand the facts properly. So I would not suggest watching porn from a very small age

Addiction to porn can be harmful too even if it doesn’t make you rape. If you pump your blood all the time to your dick when will you pump it to your brain! Personally I would not suggest watching porn a lot. It should be occasional. And if you’re addicted to it, I think you should consult a doctor.

Rapes are committed by psychologically-ill people. They can’t be normal human beings. What pleasure can someone get when the other person is not cooperating and you’re forcing yourself on her (/him)! They are sick-minded people with something seriously psychologically wrong in them. I mean I too adore beautiful girls. ‘A thing of beauty is a joy forever’. But I don’t have such sick thoughts. Appreciating beauty is a different thing.

PS: These are my personal opinions and you can always differ or debate. I have done no research.


Indian Education System

I had promised someone long time back that I would write something on the Indian Education System. I had almost forgotten when suddenly today I remembered. So I thought of writing something before I forget it again.

The Indian Education System is, in the words of many, ‘Fucked up’. And my opinion is not that divergent from those who think so. Well I am a pygmy in front of the scholars who have taken up this issue earlier, and I don’t know how good to express myself, but I would still like to use my right to freedom of speech to give my assessment about the very educational system that I have gone through and probably may even go through in future.

First, the idea of imposing a selected fixed number of subjects on everyone is very wrong. Say suppose, I like Computer Science and I like arts such as music and literature as well. I should have the choice of selecting the subjects that I want to study and reject the ones which I don’t. Unfortunately, in the Indian Education System you don’t have that liberty. Even in higher education when you have streams you have very little choice. Say for example, you take up engineering, you have no choice to take music as a subject and learn it at a professional level. Can’t a person have interest in engineering as well as music at the same time? But in the foreign schools things are pretty different, and you have the freedom of selecting the fields of your choice right from lower levels.

Second, the curriculum in most of the institutions here are outdated. Except a few colleges, most of the colleges follow and old curriculum that might not have been updated since years. With the changing times, there is the growing need to change oneself- too keep oneself up-to-date.

Third, the quality of teachers is pathetic. I had never heard anyone say ‘I want to be a teacher’ to the question ‘What do you want to become in life’ asked at school during childhood. Unfortunately, and with no intention to offend anyone, except a few, all the people who end up becoming teachers, are the ones who had no viable better career option. So, they become teacher not by choice but by destiny. Thus, it’s not a surprise when a Bihar teacher spells ‘APPLE’ as ‘APIL’. And consequently, what can we expect the students to learn from a teacher like that. And it’s equally not surprising when teachers try to hush up a ‘troubling’ student, who ‘always disturbs the class with stupid questions’. Under such a circumstance, it is understandable why a convent school student was made to sit in a primary school in Lucknow to impress Bill Clinton during his visit to that school.

Fourth, the most worrying aspect of Indian Education is that, the ‘crammers are rewarded’ and the ‘thinkers penalized’. India is a country where in reality, the ‘Chatur’ gets the gold medal and the ‘Ranchoddas’ actually fails! Therefore it is no wonder that while a lot of students are bagging high package jobs all across the globe, there is perhaps negligible progress in the field of research.

Well there might be many other loopholes in the educational system. These are only a few I mentioned. But my aim is not to curse everyone, starting from the education minister to the teacher who taught me, for my failure. Because that won’t help me in any way. I believe in survival of the fittest. If that is the system here, we have no choice but to go through it. But if someday, I become powerful enough I should try to change the things that I think is wrong.

If you don’t like a rule just follow it, reach on the top and change the rule ~ Hitler


I Decided to Die

Finally I decided to die. I had thought about dying enough number of times before, but never had taken the thought seriously. Perhaps I was always optimistic about the better days that ‘were coming‘, or maybe I apprehended the obscurity of death. ‘Every dog has its day’ and other shit-quotes, I used to cajole myself with, in my times of despair, every time something went wrong. But there is a limit of everything. There is a breaking point.

And I had reached that breaking point. I could tolerate no more the pain of a human life and I wanted an escape- even if it’s cowardly. I know people will say ‘what a loser’, ‘we have no pity for cowards’ and shits, but who cares! I don’t care anymore. Why should I care when I’ll be long gone by the time they get the news of my death and they can open their filthy scornful mouth. People are full of shit! Life is full of shit! God and hope and faith are all illusions created by sly human beings just to fool others and to keep them lingering in this pain and suffering when they could have a better choice. And I had made that better choice. Finally I had decided to die.

I didn’t waste much time in deciding the method to die— taking sleeping pills. After all that’s the time-tested and perhaps the easiest and the only painless way to die. It would slowly deactivate your brain cells taking you to a never waking deep sleep before you could even tell and all your worries would vanish in a blink. But getting sleeping pills was not as easy as the idea of killing oneself using those pills. I went to almost all the medical stores in the neighborhood, but none would give me one, without a proper prescription. I made all sorts of excuses but all in vain. So I had to think of some of the other means to execute my plan.

I thought of hanging myself from a ceiling fan. After all, one just needed a rope or could just even manage with a piece of cloth. Even the Wikipedia says ‘Hanging is a very simple suicide method that does not require complicated techniques’. And it has high mortality rate— of at least 70%. Fortunately I had both a rope and clothes. I untied the rope in the balcony, which I used for drying my clothes, brought it to my room, stood on a stool, tied one end on the ceiling fan and the other in a loop around my neck and was ready to die. I was ready to kick the stool away and hang there twisting and twirling, struggling for life, waiting to die; but towards the end, the thought of suffocating myself to death freaked me out. I could not hold my breath and stay without air for 30 seconds. I had earlier tried holding my breath, like maybe almost all people, not for killing myself but just to see how long I can sustain. And like all others, I too ended up gasping for air within a few seconds. The very thought of that feeling made me nervous. What if you’re suffering in a deep pain and you had second thoughts? You cannot even back up. Killing oneself by deprivation of air was a scary idea and I chickened out and gave up the idea. I tied the rope back in the balcony and hung the clothes, which I had earlier thrown away, back on the rope.

Next I thought about drinking half a bottle of phenol. But I gave up the idea at the very beginning. Even snakes do not die these days with these damned useless stuffs! What if I ended up in a hospital bed, with dozens of disgusted eyes around me, staring at me and murmuring curses about me in the ears of the person next? That would be more humiliating and painful than the present muddle I’m going through.

So finally I decided it had to be sleeping pills only. I forged a prescription daintily. I wondered why I didn’t think of doing this earlier. It was not that difficult. And why should I care about not doing illegal things when I’m about to die.

Finally all my depressions would come to an end. All my sorrow and grief would cease to trouble me. My job that I hated, the people around me who always gave me nothing but a headache, the car that I never owned, the house that I never built, the lover that I never had, the friends that I never made- will never matter at all. All these things depressed me throughout my life, and had always evaded me despite all my hard work and my efforts. Luck is a bitch! Or maybe I was not good enough for them. But why should I care anymore.

I emptied the entire pack of sleeping pills and gulped all the pills in it all together, with the help of a little water. I had managed to buy the pack from a medical store which I hadn’t visited earlier, with the help of the forged prescription. It was a Friday night; I came back from my boring-monotonous work, and decided it to be a perfect day to leave the world. No one was coming to disturb me. And I could die peacefully. Maybe no one would even discover my body till three days, until my office folks start searching for me to do their stupid work, and by then maybe even my body will be decayed.

After swallowing the pills I lazily lied down on my bed. I thought of how to kill time until time kills me. I took out my old-crappy phone and started traversing through the photos in my gallery. After going through 20-25 photos, her photo showed in. Her photo! My eyes became misty. She was my love. Or she is my love. I could still not forget her.

She never tried to understand me. It was always about her. How mean she was! We were in a relationship since school. All was fine. But as we grew up things get complicated. We started talking about family, children and future. Our first difference occurred over my family.

We were at a bar with some other friends. Out of random topics, this topic came out— with whom will you keep your parents? And she became quite unexpectedly serious on this question. I said if they get too old and needed my attention I’ll keep them with me. She was like you can also arrange for a help, as keeping them with us would affect our lives. Obviously it would but I just am ready to take that pain after all that they had done for me. We ended that conversation without any eventual conclusion.

After then, every now and then this question would pop up- who is your highest priority? I’d say my parents are my highest priority. For that she would argue, after getting married your family has to be your highest priority- your kids, your wife, they’re all you are most responsible for. And I would somehow change the topic.

Those days I was very busy. A new product was launched by our company and I being the sales-head of my branch, had to travel a lot of places for its promotion. I had to face all sorts of jerks and had to digest all sorts of insults with a fake smile. To top it, there would be she, always complaining that I don’t give her time. I was too busy, and despite that whatever time I got I used to devote it to her. Yeah I couldn’t meet her on week days. But can’t I expect this much from the person I love? A little understanding!

We met after a fortnight in a restaurant, and there she decided to break-up. She said ‘it never happened’. What never happened? I could not understand. Maybe she never loved me. She was just testing me like you test-drive a car before buying it. And I was not up to her expectations like the car which you test-drove but was not fully satisfied with the features so you dump it.

She was gone. I let her go, I didn’t follow her. If the person doesn’t even understand you, you can’t live a life together. I wiped a tear that had just trickled down my cheek as I gazed motionlessly at her photo.

I traversed a few more photos. She looked so charming! Then I came across the photo of this friend. I liked him a lot. He was two years junior to me. When I shifted to a city school, it was the same year he shifted too to that school, and I being the only familiar face from the same old school, he would always stick around me. Even in the assembly line, when we stood for morning prayers and proceedings, he would stand beside me abandoning his classmates who invited him. I would introduce him to everybody as my ‘brother’; I treated him as my brother. After some time both of us got accustomed to the new school and the new friends and our meetings became rare to none. When I left the school after class 10, I didn’t even thought of asking his number. But after some time I started missing him. And after many years we meet suddenly on a social networking site. How happy I was! We exchanged numbers and started talking frequently through texts or calls.

But after some time he even stopped replying me. And I don’t know what exactly happened. He had shifted to another city for higher studies and I had not had his new number. But I texted him a few times on social networking site and he never replied. If I got to meet him once before I died, one question that I would ask him was- what exactly happened?

Meanwhile, I started feeling a little drowsy. Maybe the pills had started its action. I was a bit nervous. But I was firm on my decision and there was no looking back.

I traversed a few more photos. I saw his photo-my ‘friend’ from office. It was taken with me on a trip we went from our office. Though he was irritating and I didn’t like him, he was the only person in the name of friend that I had here. He was bugging me about the money that I had taken from him and it really got to my nerves. I was depressed about a lot of things, rather everything in life, but it was this incident that triggered by suicidal.

I lost my new Moto Droid, which I bought using his credit card a few days ago. It wasn’t even available in India and I had ordered it from US through eBay. It was worth 45,000 rupees and it hadn’t been even a month that I lost it. Somehow it slipped out of my pocket as I returned from a bar one night. I got down and within seconds I checked my pocket, it was not there, but by that time the auto was gone. I had paid my friend 30,000 rupees and was yet to pay 15000 rupees. Instead of showing a little sympathy for my loss he was more worried about the money that I had taken from him and that irked me.

We had gone to the police station to file an FIR about the loss, but the reaction from the policemen convinced me that I was not getting it back. First of all they won’t even file an FIR; they will just file a report. Because if they file FIR it goes into the records of higher officials and also get into the record of crimes under that particular branch and they become accountable for it. Secondly, they will file it as ‘loss’ and never as ‘stolen’, as ‘loss’ is a much diluted word than ‘stolen’. When I went to submit the Xerox of the report to the police station the next day, the reaction of the police really infuriated me-he just threw the copies into the drawer next to him, without even seeing them or asking how many copies were there. Just to see his response I asked him how many were needed. He said one. I said there were three and he returned two to me without even looking, just as he kept them. And then he chased us away. Bloody mannerless bastards! They only know the misuse of power. It’s been a month now and I had left all hope of finding it.

Now you might think how crazy I am to commit suicide for a loss of a phone. Well I’m not that crazy. No one will commit suicide for a loss of phone unless he is some sort of a psychopath. But it was an indication of how things were going wrong in my life and how I saw no hope. Everything that could probably go wrong had been going wrong, in my life. All these things accumulated and the cumulative effect of everything was the decision that I had taken. It was a chain reaction— there was a chain of awful events that lead to the final outcome and the loss of the phone was just one link of the chain. I could even return his money today if I wanted. But it’s not about the money or the phone. It’s about how horrible things were going in my life one after another and I couldn’t see any hope. I was sure that if there were a competition on the ‘The Greatest Loser in the World’, I could come second even in that event, because I was such a loser that I can never win it! I’m such a loser that when for others it’s a sure shot and you can easily get something, for me you can be pretty sure that something would go wrong and I would never get that. I had had such experience umpteen number of times and the loss of the phone was just the trigger that I needed to make the ultimate decision.

I was a brilliant student right from my school— an all-time school topper. I did well even in my college. But I could not get a job of my choice. I was stuck in a job that I hated, amongst people I disdained, and despite all my effort, was not able to shift to a better place. My girl-friend left me, my friends deserted me, and even my Wi-Fi refused to work the day I needed it the most. So I was a cursed soul— a loner. And my life sucked!

I couldn’t tell when I drifted into a doze only to wake by a call. Maybe the pills had started showing its effect and I would bid goodbye to this sick world soon. It was this friend, whom I owed the money. He demanded for the money citing some family problems and said he would come to get it tomorrow. I insisted on him coming the day after, which he refused outright saying it’s an emergency. We argued for a while and then I submitted. What difference does it make whether he comes tomorrow or the day after? I’ll be long gone by then.

I started looking into the photos once again. I came across the photo of our school picnic. It was in January last year. We had decided to meet every year in January and go somewhere for a picnic; just us— the batch-mates of our school. We enjoyed a lot last time. I realized I wouldn’t be able to go for the picnic this year as I would be gone on a trip to an unknown place by that time. Somewhat, I felt I would miss something.

I looked into a few more photos. I came across the photo of Nick— the man without limbs. It was auto downloaded from my WhatsApp even without my knowledge. He is an inspirational man without limbs having a happy life and motivating many others. I felt a twinge. If a person without limbs can still be fighting with this world why can’t a normal guy like me fight? Why am I giving up? I remembered about Stephen Hawking. That man too once had suicidal thoughts, after he was paralyzed; but he went on to survive and fight and become the most famous scientist among the living and maybe one of the most famous scientist overall.

Why am I even thinking all these? I had made a decision and must stick to it. Moreover it was too late for a comeback now. I felt a strong urge of vomiting, but I restrained. I didn’t want to take any chance of ending up in a hospital. I felt a sharp headache too. I never thought sleeping pills would cause any pain. This was my first time. I never had any experience of dying before! Nausea washed over me.

I started traversing the photos once again. I came to a photo of my mother. I stopped. I shuddered. What am I doing? For her I had left my love and now for whom I’m leaving her? I was being too selfish. I was only thinking about myself-just like my love. Her serene smile and her calm eyes shook me hard. What will happen to her after I’m gone; who’ll look after her? Who will take care of the house? The roof of the house will remain without a ceiling, the house will remain unpainted, and there will be no walls and no gate of the compound. But that is not what matters the most, what matters the most is that they will lose their only son— their hope, of whom despite whatever he couldn’t achieve, they were very proud. They were very proud of whatever he achieved and they boasted of him in front of the others in the village where ‘no one was as good as him’. What will happen to them if I die! How will they show their face in front of others? And most importantly what will haunt them the most is the question— what exactly happened, just like the one I had for my friend. And both will go unanswered. They had so many plans for me— about my marriage; they said they would get the most beautiful bride for me. They had already made golden bangles for their future daughter-in-law and were pressurizing me to get married soon as they ‘didn’t want to die before seeing their grandchildren’. And here I am killing their future grandchildren! How could I do that?

Just then I got a phone call from the police station, saying my phone has been found, and asked me to collect if from the police station the next day. It was beyond my belief! As if a miracle had happened. How could our country’s police be so efficient? I wondered.

I decided— I had to live. I ran to the sink, inserted three of my fingers into my throat, and vomited as much as I could. I hurriedly called my office friend and he took me to a hospital within minutes, and there I was in the ICU will all sorts of tubes stuck into me and all sorts of drugs injected into me. And I went into a deep sleep soon.

When I opened my eyes I looked around to see whether I was still on earth or I was in hell (I knew I could not be in heaven). But looking into all sorts of electronic machines beeping and lights blinking around me I knew I was still on earth— in the hospital. I didn’t know for how long I slept— whether for hours or for days.

The doctor came in, in a few minutes, with a weird smile. ’Why did you do this?’ he asked. Before I could reply anything he continued ‘Why did you take a whole pack of pills for menopause and cry of suicide?’

Menopause!! I was dumbstruck! I told him I took sleeping pills but the doctor confirmed they were pills of menopause. I cursed the pharmacist for putting me into such an awkward situation. Damn these doctors and these pharmacists! Their handwritings are like encrypted code words which only they could understand. And if the pharmacist couldn’t understand the doctor’s handwriting he’ll give you the medicine that he thinks it is, and is available with him. How can he make such a blunder! How can they give tablets of menopause to me— a man? Couldn’t they even ask me once? It’s the reason why the medical service is so poor in our country— doctors prescribe any medicine they want and pharmacists give any medicines they want. Most people keep taking wrong medicines without even knowing.

I got to know that I was unconscious only for an hour, by when they discovered what pills I had actually taken. So there was nothing serious after that. They just injected some drugs to neutralize the effect of the damned pills and kept me in observation for some time. And after that, I was back to normal as before.

I was fortunate that none of my relatives or my parents were informed about my ordeal. I convinced them that it would never happen again and they too could see that I was having the will to live that’s why I contacted to be taken to the hospital. So they released me the same day and I was back at home, with the confidence of doing better in life; and most importantly with the vow of not giving up till the end.

I resigned from my job the next day, collected my phone thanking the police, and booked a ticket for home. I called my mother. I said ‘I’m coming home’ and I sobbed. My mother said in a soft tone ‘Come home son, come home. We are waiting to see you. And leave that damn city and that damn job. We’ll do something here’. My mother understands me even before I speak anything. I knew. I knew she must have got to know that something was not right here, but she didn’t ask me anything and pretended everything was okay. I couldn’t speak more, I just said ‘Okay’ and hung up the call. And I cried.

I returned the money to my office friend, which he took hesitantly saying I could give it later or would be okay even if I don’t pay. But I insisted. I guess he was not as bad as I thought. And life was not as bad as I perceived. Happiness is after all a state of mind. I was in a much better position than many others and there were people who loved me; I just never realized that.

In the evening a got a phone call from one of my school friends asking about my availability for the picnic and I said— I’m in.


The Filth

 “Oh Fuck!!! It is 10:30 AM.”

I kicked away my blanket and jumped out of the bed. My head was aching severely, due to the booze of the last night. I cursed Jeet for the sudden plan he made. I usually don’t drink on weekdays. But Jeet emotionally blackmailed me saying he had a break-up with his first love (which he said perhaps a hundred times before), and needed someone to vent out his sorrow. I had no choice but to tolerate his sentimental melodrama that became even more furious after he got high. I reached home too late at night, or rather early in the morning; the time of which I can’t exactly recall.

I looked into my phone. Three missed calls from my manager. Oh boy! I was good as dead. I had an important code release today and was supposed to be at office by 9 AM. It was more than 10:30 AM and I was still at home. I knew my boss was going to grill me today.

I quickly brushed my teeth, took a shower, grabbed my things and was on the street in 15 minutes. The 10:45 AM bus didn’t come. Damn these busses! You never get them when you are in a desperate hurry. It got only today to skip! Had it been any other day, I would have bunked office. But today I couldn’t. I was a critical resource and was needed for the release. I had to go office despite my terrible hangover.

I hurriedly got an auto and was on my way to the station. Halfway to the station, I realized I had left my office I-card at home. Shit! I turned my auto back home. Murphy’s law is correct-when things go wrong, everything that can go wrong will go wrong. I reached the station in some time after getting my I-card from home.

The 11:21 AM local was just about to leave from the Thane station. I jumped into the train that just started to move and quickly grabbed a seat. It was the side seat towards the aisle. Kanjur Station was just four stations from Thane and I should be there soon. But the train halted just after moving for a few minutes and let other trains cross, as if it was making a display of its generosity. “Fuck you Jeet!”,I cursed my friend once again.

Just then I saw them coming- the women in her cheap colorful saree and the kid in her black frock. The girl’s hair was trimmed and she wore black, maybe, because it became less dirty or even if it gets dirty it can’t be seen. She had worn cheap colorful plastic bangles on both her hands which I noticed when she reached near. The mother (I assume the women is the mother and the girl her child) sang ‘Shiri Diwali Sai Baba aaya hai tere darpe sawari..’ in her loud cacophonous voice that was totally out of tone. And the girl, 7-8 years old, extended her hand forward asking for alms from the passengers and making a sad-face as if she has not eaten anything for days.

I looked at them with disgust. The train had started to move by then.’ Who lets these filth get into the trains?’ I thought. ‘The government must take steps to bar them from trains and other public places. In fact they should be locked in a cage and thrown away in some islands in the Indian Ocean. These people don’t want to work. They just want an easy path’. I recalled few days back my pocket was picked in one of these trains. There wasn’t much cash but all my cards were gone including my Driving License, my PAN card and my Voters ID. I had to file an FIR at the police station to save myself in case of any misuse and get everything re-issued. ‘It must be an act of one of these crooks’, I thought. ‘They are here spreading filth and mess in our society’.

In the meantime three stations had crossed. As the little girl approached towards me extending her hand I gave her a look of aversion that made her draw her hand back. She moved on towards other co-passengers, most of whom just shooed her away.

I got up from my seat and moved near the door. I got down as the train stopped at my station and ran towards the flyover to escape the rush. I was taking the stairs when I felt a touch on my hand. It was that dirty little girl. ‘What happened?’ ,I shouted and freed my hand away. ‘Bhaiya, aapka purse gir gaya tha’, she said as she handed over my wallet, which might have slipped out of my pocket, somehow in the rush. ‘Thank you’, I said with a faint smile, trying to hide my embarrassment over my prejudice, wondering who the real filth was. But she ran back handing over my wallet and was long gone before she could hear me.


Dear Love-II

(If you haven’t read the part 1 of Dear Love please read it first at the following link- https://liljedi.wordpress.com/2014/05/21/dear-love/)

Dear love,

You don’t know how excited I was when I saw your call. 10:13 pm. I still remember the exact time! Same day. My phone buzzed. I saw your name on the screen. But I was scared. What would I do? What would I say to you? What would we talk? I was so nervous that I couldn’t even receive the call. Before I swiped the screen to receive it, the call ended. I don’t know I was happy or sad. Happy, cause you called me and sad, cause I did that moronic thing, which I’m famous for, once again.

I instantly messaged my ‘love guru’- my cousin. He is a few years elder to me and is an extremely intelligent guy. He has a solution to everything. And he’s friendly with me so I talk to him everything. Of all the other things, the one thing he said was, “Call her moron!!! Call her. Or text or do something”.

Talking to him did not reduce my anxiety in any way. Rather it increased it manifold. But one thing that I was certain was that I must call you. I knew I had to call you. After all the stupid things I did, there had to be one right thing that I did.

So I just looked into my call logs, took out your number and tapped on call.

Tringg tringgg….I could hear the phone ring. But I could hear my heart beat more clearly- faster and louder.

Three times it rang before you picked up.

‘Hi..!’, you said.

There was silence for some moments. I just choked. I was searching for my voice. And all I could say was-


‘How are you?’, you asked.

‘I’m fine. And you?’, I said.

We had talked so many times before. But it seemed as if it was our first time.

‘I’m fine too. And how was your exam?’ , you replied back.

‘Hope it goes well. Else my dad will kick me out of the house.’

I tried to lighten up the mood. And it worked. I heard you laughing.

‘And yours will be great, as always.’ I added.

‘I don’t know. Let’s wait for the results..’, you said in you cute worried way.

‘I missed you’. Suddenly our conversation took a more serious course that I knew was coming.

‘I missed you too’. I didn’t know when a drop of tear rolled down my left cheek as I replied back.

‘Why didn’t you talk to me then’, I heard you sobbing.

I took some time before I could find words-

‘I had to keep my promise. I wished good for you and had to keep myself away from you for your own good…for our good. And moreover I thought you don’t like me anymore…the way you behaved…’

I stopped before saying anything more.

‘You fool! I behaved such to make you jealous. So that you talk to me again. So that at least you fight with me or ask what did I do? I always gave you a hint.’

A girl’s mind is the most mysterious thing on the earth. My ‘love guru’ always keeps on saying. Now I realize that. How am I supposed to know that you like me when you show exactly the opposite? Anyway I liked hearing all these. I was happy that after almost a year we talked. Time flies so fast. It seemed just like yesterday I was at your home and we’re deciding on not to talk to each other. And now after all this time, it still feels so fresh, so new once again. As if I’m falling in love with you for the first time. I fell in love with you yet again. I will fall in love with you over and over again.

We talked about a lot of things. Girls really know how to continue a conversation. Most of the time I was on the hearing side. I like hearing your sweet voice. And I had heard you after so long, that made my feeling even more intense. The tuitions together, the walk together to your home, the occasional walk in some random street- all the sweet memories came back to my mind and that brought a constant smile on my face throughout our conversation. And even later.

‘I’m leaving ’, finally you said that thing which I didn’t want to hear.

‘When?’, I asked.

‘Day after tomorrow’, you said.

I was silent.

‘Can you meet me’, you said breaking the silence.

‘Yes of course’, I replied.

‘I have arranged a small get together for some of the friends before I leave. Can you come tomorrow at 12. My mother is arranging for lunch’, you said.

‘That sounds cool’, I said.

We ended the call shortly after that. Meanwhile my ‘love guru’ was texting me. I texted him back, ‘I called’. He replied excitedly that I made him proud, that I’m his brother bla bla..

I forgot to reply him back. I was drowned in your fantasies. I didn’t know when I fell asleep.

Next day I was at your place. The driver dropped me and was to pick me up later. Some of our other friends were also there. So it was a usual affair. But you mother was happy to see me after all these days. And she treated me with more love than for the others. I could see that. All the while I wanted to be a little alone with you, but we never had the chance.

My phone buzzed and I saw a text from my ‘love guru’. I had texted him in the morning and told him about going to your place today. He was eager to know what’s going on. I replied ‘just with my friends’. I looked up and saw a look of annoyance on your face. I kept my phone aside. My ‘love guru’ kept bombarding my phone with questions.

The day ended. We had our lunch. You mother cooked awesome as always. And all our friends left. I had intentionally told the timing one hour late to my driver. So he had not yet showed up. We two were alone, in your study room. It was beautifully decorated with posters of barbies and all. I don’t quite remember what we talked or how we spent the time. All the while I was just trying to capture your face in my mind, before you left. And how desperately I wanted to kiss that cute face of yours! But I could not gather the guts.

It was time to go. My driver had come. You came to drop me to the door. I got into my car and the driver started the car. As we just moved, I shouted the driver to stop the car. I said I left my phone. I ran back to you. You were right there, at the gate looking towards me. I could see the sadness on your face-the pang of separation. I stood still in front of you for some seconds. I could hear my heart pounding. A smile came in your face comforted me. Swiftly, I gave a peck on your cheek. I saw you blushed. You looked even cuter when you blushed. The red colour on your face-the colour of love. I gave another peck on the other cheek. I tucked in something in your hand and ran back to my car.

The driver showed me the phone that was right beside him, gave a wink and started to drive.




PS: It was note saying I’ll find something at my doorstep next morning. I got up too early next morning and saw an envelope. I wondered when you dropped it . It had two letters. I read these letters with the same anxiety even today after so many years,with which I read it the first time.

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