Alas

Should I smile? Should I whine?
At soft maladies or brutal signs
Pieces of intention scattered around
Slant remarks of dirty grime.

Questions strike the young
Beautiful and sometimes bold.
Fingers pointed by the crowds
Only demean them more.

Deceit becomes ubiquitous
While beauty remains puny.
Alas this cowardly world
Afraid to be on terms of its own/

The Scent of a Beast.

He was unusually beautiful for a strong man.smooth and sharp eye brows and slant eyes lipid with the depth of a green sea gaze at you while you talked to this big burly man of 6 feet 5 inches height. Along his face lie a scar like a perfect imperfection adding to his aura.i saw him first at the college library.clutching a small book he casually walked in like a king, unaware of the power he brings to the corridors of space he treads upon. He was like the perfect inspiration for the authors eye. Strong yet naïve beautiful yet dark gentle and bold all at the same time.

He walked past the tables and sat across my table. He flipped open his tiny book and twitched his burly shoulders occasionally while he gazed endlessly into the book.

I had heard a lot about him.people called him Lucifer though no one knew why.he had been studying botany for almost 6 years now while his classmates and juniors grafduated and di PHD,s he continued to study and gaze at plants and gaze more at the books in the library.

I rolled my eyes from behind the boring encyclopedia I managed to pick up. I inteneded to study him and analyse him while he lay there like a picture of canvas waiting to be recolored.his eyes glimeered while he was reading a book on ‘herbs and flowers’ an elementary book of pictures of various flowers and herbs.

“oh” I exclaimed loudly when his green eyes suddenly shot at me. Beautiful feline green eyes.i did not look away from like everyone did. I feel he must have his own story to tell. I feel every person has the right to say and share things he learned and the mistakes he made and the choices he was entrusted upon and the past he drags.
I knew he was a nice man. Like the faraway mountain in a country side familiar to both tourists and farmers yer untrodden and far he seemed like a distant dream to me.

“true. Very tru” he said while I jumped on my seat.

Now did I imagine it? Did he actually speak to me. I had heard he had never spoken in the course of seven years at his college.

“excuse me?” I squeaked.
He smiled. Actually.
“yes im reading about roses and daffodils. You like roses I presume” he burst out a sentence that long!
“not too much”I voluntarily answered keen to continue the conversation.
“well you have tattoo on your left arm. A rose and its thors.” He said like a king.
“yes”I squeaked. “so?”
“well” he smiled”so you do like roses” he said. Sometimes simple statements like that are so hard to digest. Lucid and clear and painstakingly accurate.!
“yes” I said”I love the mysticism roses bring about theeselves” I found myself say.he gazed at his book Again like nothing ever happened.
I waited for a complete minute while he was losta agin in his book

“are you always so quiet” I dared to quip.
“come with me” he dared back much to my fear.

I was startled. At the ease with which he talked. I was guilty of judging him even before I knew him. Wht he was just another childish artist I felt. He simply said “ come with me” and o found absolutely no reason why I shouldn’t.

Sometimes we as humans have so many pre conceived notions. Sometimes we wait entirely too long to actually enjoy the subtleties of life. Sometimes we wait till we die and push out vagaries and dreams to the end hoping to adjust and fit them before our tenure slips away. Weird are we aren’t we!!

Walk along your own path they say
While every conspiration shall misguide your way
Your only own spirit shall rise
Only if you tend your inner voice.

I found myself walking with him while we quietly crossed roads and trams. We walked a gentle striding walk while I followed him quietly to his house.

The skies were azure and bright while. the winds were pleasant and moist.we walked for a little more while till we reached huge barbed wires. He wasn’t exactly a stranger in any way. Though we talked not more than minute we were connected in ways. You know they say that sometimes your real true thoughts you can speak only to strangers you find!

He knocked at his door gently at the right bottom and a small part of the huge rustic door opened. We stooped down to crawl past it while I impulsively closed my eyes. I had decided to take the surprise the way it is. I had already unfairly judged him so I stood there closing my eyes waiting to see what was in front of me.it could be a graveyard it could be creepy eerie animals or even a plain barren land but I decided to breathe and let go of the notions I construct even before I see.

I challenged myself that I shall not judge Lucifer. He was like a deep well to me. Everytime I dropped in something I could hear the splash after a long long time. i stood there while Lucifer stood behind me aware of my thoughts. I breathed in again and decided to open my eyes.

“oh” I exclaimed looking at the sight. Lush green fields of roses and daffodils and marigolds and liles bloomed and smiled on the warm sun bathed land. All the flowers were lined beautifully like small babied well kept pampered and taken care. The sight was beautiful. The roses were beautifully fresh . every plany every leafs symmetrically similar and painstakingly pure and correct in some weird sort of way! The fields lay there beaming and breathing inviting me to dance and play with the babies Lucifer had made.i stood there unable to say a word .

Lucifer and his garden seemed to draw my dark. They seemed to cleanse my thoughts and rejenuvate my minds. They seemed to wash my inhibitions and tend my soul while I stood there gasping the air they seemed to scent and reel at you while you could only enjoy every whiff that fell on you.

“so”he said while he showed his world to me. And I shivered and trembled at the beauty and perfection he had. i moved forward unable to smile weep or cry while Lucifer stood there waiting to invite me into his world into his dream into his heaven.

I trembeled in my dark and the beauty of his innocence. Every step I took I felt I was maligning him. As if I was adulterating his purity. Suddenly tears fell from my eyes on a rose petal close to me.
“ don’t worry “ he said while he held my hand. ”my garden will cleanse you “ he said while we looked at the rose.

It shone and gleamed with my tear.

So dark the con of a man they say
So void the dark of a lady I say.

As if the rose heard what I said it suddenly wilted in front of me. I was shivering again unable to withstand the guilt of spoiling Lucifer and his gardens beauty. I plucked the flower immediately lest it spoiled and died in front of his eyes, while I heard him shout “no”

They say human touch can tread or kill
It must have him liberated him of his only sin
Cause when I plucked the rose to save
I dug lucifers own only grave.

Watwrs At Mayos

Waters at mayo’s


I sat down in the corner of the café sipping some chilled milk. The climate was cool and the surroundings quite. I picked a wrong place, yet again. You know I try shifting places looking for stories that might inspire me? And then a dash of words lead me to my next classic.

I looked around while a small boy cleaned the tables. The café was small. Around 8 tables or so covered with red lined and a lacy white cover. The chairs were simple and petite. Around four chairs encircled each table while some had more. Mayo’s was hexagonal in shape. The entrance began right in the front opening up to Mayo’s seat and his table, a piece from his granddads will. The small town of Cochin knew all about senior mayo and his huge treasures and wealth’s. Senior mayo was an adventurous traveler sailing the world on his ships. It was rumored that once he got back to his mansion with a truck full of mermaids he picked in the Pacific Ocean. Some even said that he was a man mermaid himself. When he died he supposedly left all his will to aquariums and ocean development studies and fisheries. He was supposedly too weird.

Mayo himself was a small man. He was around 4 feet 8 inches with a crooked legs and a straight back. He walked with this unusual confidence small people seldom have .a huge wrist watch and his typical blue shirt and white pants might accompany him even to his grave.

Yes I know this slow dragging atmosphere is showing effect on my words but I couldn’t help notice patterns around him. Like he had lips like a protruding fish and his whole body had a peculiar sense of puffishness as if he was filled with water. His round tummy tucked behind his apron also seemed like a pot for an ocean. He walked gingerly quietly gliding along from one chair to another. His gait also has a slight zig zag manner as if he was swishing swashing like a fish. He had large protruding eyes blinking innocently and calmly. His ears were small and sunken in. his fair look also added the gleam to his baldhead. Overall he had the vibe of a strange madman. I don’t know if I say that because of the rumors I know or because of what I see but soon I think things will be clearer than before.

I looked around again looking at the walls and the ceiling. You know being a writer I unconsciously notice lots of intricacies and details like this. And when I sit down to write them that’s when I realize this peculiar art of mine. I look again at the ceiling which has these glass sliding windows covered all over from the inside with blue satin. The café was a little hot while the sunrays would stream in. Cochin as such is a cool breezy place so no complains. The satin seemed to have been stuck perfectly except at the edges where I noticed the glass with a slight tinge of blue again , chromium I guess. Well without boring you further I looked at the walls of the café, made of cement itself. They were white in color and adorned with beautiful paintings of ships and oceans and mermaids and islands. Each painting was an intricate piece and seemed to have been a classic of its own time. Mayos grandfather’s I reckon. I looked surprisingly at the fact that they were not stolen yet. As cynical as I may sound too beautiful things are unbelievable. I got up from my chair and walked towards a painting hung high enough from human reach. The ceiling I must say was far far above the heads. Well I took a chair and climbed upon trying to have a closer look at a specific painting. It had this beautiful mermaid painted in acrylic oils rich with color swimming in a bathtub. Which kind of painting as that? A bathtub in the 17th century? I shook my head and looked closer with the kind of curiosity a professional gets when she sees a unique piece of art like that. I peeked forward looking that below the bath tub were several small mermaids lying on the floor smiling talking and playing with their hair. What a sight!!

The painting looked like a vintage piece and the contents seemed so unbelievably recent and new. I looked around for a sign only to see nothing! Before I could scrape a piece off wondering if there are more secrets beneath , Mayo himself shoved the chair beneath my feet. Well I was taken unawares and he stood smirking and frowning spreading his hands like the mast of a unicorn. I looked blinking waiting for him to explode while he stood there quietly. He simply tossed the chair away and took it along with him and walked back to his seat and sat down. Weird man and even weirder paintings. This whole aura of mayo’s was getting to me and I wanted to find the secret behind his café and his grandfathers mysteries.

I shamelessly walked towards another painting knowing that the wrath would invite mayo to his thunder. The whole of cochin had told me he was a weird man and he would quietly and swiftly squeeze a sword into peoples heart if he wished. But he didn’t seem very angry! I looked toward another painting which had this huge table and a mermaid sipping something. It all seemed so mystical. As if it was a café for mermaids who visited in the night gurgling and cooing along at Mayo’s. The decorum the colors and shapes would match hazily to Mayo’s. Only the pictures were at night so I couldn’t demarcate distinct blue though it felt like that.

I sprang forward the the next painting looking at this mermaid who had deep green eyes and a black gown while her legs gingerly curved into a fin. It seemed very familiar. The hands were light and subtly pointed and her complexion seemed whitish. She had long tresses and a pierced ear. On seeing closely I saw the others still bathing in the tub laughing talking, why she was away from them as if observing something and talking and musing to herself. Interesting. Must have been an author mermaid. Well so much for my attempt to joke.!


I suddenly felt nauseated. The place seemed smelly of waters and oceans. I really don’t know if I am imagining or was it all a joke. I dragged myself forwards while my legs refused to move. What happened I really don’t know. These paintings seem to have a mystic sense to them. Strange wonderful eerie and allegorically enticing. I moved ahead wanting to see the third painting of the tiring day. The air too was getting heavier while the mystery grew deeper and heavier in my head. I smoothly glided to the paining once I was close to it. What do I see? I crane my neck upwards now that mayo snatched his chair and I suddenly turned backward remembering mayo. He was sleeping at the counter while the café was empty leaving me a whole Pandora’s box. I looked at the painting again and I see this sword kept at the edge of a book. The mermaid yes the author one was lying on the floor trying to reach her hands up at the sword. It was balancing on a book kept on a shelf and a little push would have got it down. The mermaid seemed distressed her eyes looked blackened and her face looked scared as if twitching in despair. The sword was hinging horizontally on the edge of the book and she couldn’t reach up. The painting was as evading as that. You know I always have thought that painters and writes have this art of leaving things opened up to the imagination of the reader. You know it leaves them with a tingling sense of what would have bee next if the author had her own way.

I lurched forward struggling even more with my thoughts and moves. What was she trying to do? I scrambled along to the last painting to see the mermaid again lying bloodily on the floor. The sword seemed to have struck her in her heart while she smiled suggestively. Her hand was pointed towards another painting on the edge of the wall while she lay there in blood, she seemed to have left a clue. The other painting was covered slightly with a cloth while a part of it was open. It was a painting within a painting. I lurched forward for a closer look. A white cloth covered it while she pointed at it smiling at me. It seemed like a message for me as if I was a mermaid once upon a time. Why she looked like me itself. I turned towards my seat again while I moved away from the last painting. My book and my papers began flying around with a new set of breeze coming in. I scrambled forward holding my papers and my books.

I moved towards my seat and sat there trembling. The winds obliged and scared me with its whines striking along the glass above. I trembled and shook wondering at something. The situation seemed familiar. As if I was here before. I looked at my cup and saw some more milk in it. I took up the glass to sip more when I remember the mermaid sipping something. I looked at my book and suddenly felt queer. I was arrested on my seat while the cup in my hand drew me closer to my mouth. I shivered and tried to move while my legs wiggled and gelled in. that’s how it seemed. I was turning into a mermaid ? Was this a curse?. I suddenly remembered my own grandfather and his gift of intuition, which he left to me.

Before I could sense any movement I picked up all my courage and pulled the tablecloth away. I knew a sword would strike me. I tore the cover apart to see another painting. She was lying there while a huge fish struck a sword within. Blood oozed from her heart while she smiled and poured milk on her heart. The big fish retreated and the picture seemed like a movie. Like it was telling me what to do. Like it was an old fairy tale unfolding in front of me. I felt my spine chill while mayo was standing behind I felt the sword gush inside and pierce me till it emerged from my heart. I felt the pain encircling and dizzying me while I fell to the floor grappling my self. Mayo looked and smiled I believe while my face fell on the floor beneath. I tried grappling forward while he kept following me.

I picked my senses while I felt the sword pierce more inside me. Holding the legs of the table I pushed it fiercely. The cup fell down into my hand while I could barely see things in front of me. I felt my eyes widen and my hands dance losing control at everything around me. My hair grew longer and my legs were no longer human and I I twitched at this new reality. Weirdly somewhere down the line I still remember I was I am a writer. My grandfather too was fresh in my dreams. I was stronger than I believed. I pushed the table again while the cup fell into my hands. I turned and threw the milk on my heart while mayo froze in front of me. I was lying on the floor while he stood there like a predator waiting to gobble me. I took the milk from the cup and threw it on him. Take that you slimy old grimy fish. Mayo retraced back while the milk touched him. I lurched forward and looked at him while he began to swell and bleed. Instinctively I poured his blood oozing from his eyes into the same cup. I poured it all into his own mouth while he slowly and sluggishly expanded into a fish.

Mayo twitched and fell on the ground while he ballooned into a huge fish. His whole body became bloody and fluidy as if dripping sins from his own soul. The fish collapsed and sank on the floor while blood oozed endlessly. I looked around at this weird test of fate grappling my self to the door. I wanted to call anyone around and hoped to escape the place. My books my papers were still on the table while the breeze had already fled. I dragged myself to the entrance refusing to look at my mermaid fins. I reached mayo’s table and grabbed another glass of milk kept on the top. I drank it all gulping and hoping that it would return me to my original degree and senses. It was all too weird. I was still in cochin and I could still see people outside and wondered why nobody helped me. I tried shouting but my voice deserted me. There was an old saying that mermaids never did speak. I panicked and prayed suddenly in my 21 years of precious discoveries. I drank the milk and hoped for peace. I closed my eyes and prayed. I still was a mermaid!


Sudden coma seemed to set in as if a curse was gripping me. I drank each and every drop again hoping to let free. Blood was oozing and the sword was still thrust inside. I grabbed it from behind my back and pulled it backwards while the sword gently let me free.



Things seem weird to readers living within boundaries. But wierdeties and eccentricities are another side of human life. Things known and unknown happen everyday while they choose to reveal to a few. I suppose you will never believe what I saw.

.

The big fish was dead and mystical mermaids seem to devoure him all in a jiffy. It was all weird. Sudden beauties of a previously imaginary world become dancing realities. And suddenly they turned into blood sucking predators feasting on the fish. I saw them fall on my feet while they prayed and thanked me. Each of them danced and touched my eyes as if thanking me for taking their sins or clearing mine? I really don’t know

Were they destined to stay in parallel worlds around us? What was their previous lives or their sins I really do not know. I do not know how I was chosen to redeem or revert the curse.

But After my endeavor at mayo’s I was never able to see. I can still hear them though swishing swashing around.

Apple

The other day I had seen this Movie on World Movies called Apple. the movies about 2 girls mentally retardd locke dinside their houses with a blind mother and an ever gentle father. Forced by c ircumstances he ends up locking them so that they are safe. and they carry spoons and jingle across the bars making a dance a tune in their own small lives.

Takes have been amazingly simple and subtle. the house set in the lone roads of afhghanistan ( ok i couldnt watch it from the start so duno what place ) . White houses in a painfully white vibe and tone seem to linger around the tape. ( Gah if my comparisiosn goes vain due to Digital DVds) So these two girls in their small dark house in this white neighbourhood seem to be leraning about every inch oflife they get to sieze. The father an old man of 70 drags himself to work and beg for them. he comes back home with bread and ice for the kids while the wife clad in a burqua seems to be shouting and retreating into her oen self, and drawing the childish kids to dark inner magnets of inncoence. The father was a nice man sandwiched between his wifes demands and his wish for his girls to be free. Chil authotrities would bombard them with questions and this lady would threaten him that theyd take his children away. She plays a subtle slaughtere kind of role. Pushing the old man to the edge and telling himt hat if he doesnt unloxk them and let them have a future theyll take them away.

Once this lady jumps over the wall and she sees them locked dabbing spoons on the walls and making songs with their expressions. She akssk them what they want and gifts them a mirror each. The girls Mausmah and i cant remeber the other , lets say D seem to love watching themselevs. theyd smile and make faces at the mirror. The father enters the house tired and csrrying bread and ice for their daiily food. He unlocks the cage while the lady stands fuming and she lets D and Mausameh free. she yessls at him saying he cant lock them while the old man only replies wiht pain that hehas no other option. All the while neighbours look in like puppets and statues indiffrent and self concerned.

Mausameh and D trail out for a while and come running inside , still scared to venture. After being locked up for 11 years in their own house theres nothing unnew for these girls aged 7 and 5. They look like weak aliens unknown of human emotion and anxious to explore the same. Have you observed that all mentally retarded people have this different kind of face , features which makes it so obvious that they are not so " normal"a s some people say. And there with all the lerning and knowldede we seem to be looking like sleek knifes. well its funny but faces change with emotion , Not age i say.

While these two kids saunter outside carrying their new found childhood and proofs of their girlddom dripping in as they smaile at their refelections in the mirror. Outside on the roads , so white and barren these kids find a pipe of water leaking and they put their mirrots instinctively below it givin ecg othe chances , while the mirrors is washed with gentle splurt of water snd their faces seem to appear neater cleaner and more alive and human as before. filmotographically this shot was amazing.

Now they wander on the streets , how naive their father thought they were, while they dont even flicker once before exploring whatever comes inf ront of their eyes. like a gentle sea of emotion nudging you towalk for just a while with her and enjoy the calm breeze, the girls walk on step by step longer than before. and we forget that we were supposed to return ( were we?) as we , full grown sane adults are totallyc apable of losing in the flow, while these kids do just that. their first taste of human emotion is to not hink its sometthing different from your conscience.

Now this suddenly gets disturbed , ( that is they growing more laive in their refelctions ) by this kid who was selling ice creams and later this kid who suspended apples from his balcony suspended by a rope to a stick , while he nimbly controlled the string drwan over to his toe like a pulley and dodged the apple above the girls heads while they try hard to catcj. I htinkthis was an amazing scene.the girls jump higher and higher to catch while this kid just seems to be getting it higher and dodging fromt herm. he nimbly swiftly manages to play with the apple and the girlsf or a while before they get tired. lets call this kid . Now this kid comes down and asks them if they want apples. and theys ay yes. so he carries the apple on the rope suspeended to a stick on his shoulders while the girls follow him thinking theyll get an apple. he takes tham all over the city while they follow numbly lost and focussed beaiutifully on to the apply. and they say the world is full of haze.

this kid takes them to an apple shop and evidently he shooes them away telling htme to get money. the kid takes the girls back home to their father, knowing that the girls have been locked for so long to give them money. the father removes all his earnings and gives three hundreds to the boy. 2 for the girls and one for him. Now the girls go out again with their apples while they find another set of 2 girls playing. while they walk down together on roads on tracks on mountains the simplicity of the movie and the fantastically normal and painstakingly real pace nly stings to those who cannot afford to stop and think. They reach this shop where they F too wants ti buy a shop like another girl they just met. Unaware that they are sisters , that they have a house that they afre prone to danger the girls walk run climb and smile exploring all the beauty that seems to strike them and yell drink us you beautiful souls and make us more beautiful.

the watch guy tells them to go and get their father. the friends of the girls get them back home hwile all the while D and Mausameh have just been whimpering and making noises. while they reach home their parents are locked by the lady from childacre. the lady tells the faher that thy could be free only if their children could oen the so called cage. D tries hard and cries while she opens the door while the father looks on shiveringin his own cold. the girls try hard to let their father free whie the mother yells from the room inside abuses at her hsuband. finally when they do the girls walk hand in hand with the father to go and buya w atch. the wife suddenly left alone , blind comes oiutside tlking to herself loudly where is every one. while she stands in front of a mirror her alter ego begins to speak and question her abouot whats is it that she wanted. she walks outside the house when this kid again over the balcone is plaing with his apple. the wife spends all the time trying to ctach the apple. and when she finnaly does we all relaise that it is that when you really hold a lot that things let go. when you hold more sand it shall only slipout more than before. when you nknow that living with this moment of let go is isntilled in you forever no apple will be too far to reach.

The piper

Puppets of false control
Masters of self-decay
Pupa of imaginary boundaries
Stretched to a new fate.

Shorelines of no entry,
Waters full of taste
Visions of dreamy reality
Are all harbored away.

Yet the visions hover
Just before the gate.
Only wild weed separate
Mystery from the lane.

Still the weary vision
Curtails to look away
The horizon seems to shimmer
While the roads all bend away.

The path is all untrodden
Foliage outgrows space
Secret caves re-appear
Amidst the tropical haze.

The stream of reason flows
Abrupt and unclear
Aquatic hush prolongs
Wading through inner fear.

Mystery perches on wings
Surreal memories surface
A new journey begins
Some inner calling to take.

Multinational and the meager national.

Yes I know this sounds like I am going to bore you with a string of economic jargon and definitions and strategies. But its something more monotonous than that. You know as persons many times we see so many things and just move on without empathizing about the same. For us our own problems and struggles are the biggest challenges god almighty can ever burden on anyone. We walk past beggars and shoo them thinking how they could actually be deceiving you. ( Read Mumbai Mirror beggar millionaires) or we might just rush into the crammed first class while small children wriggle inside scared of the squeeze and the twists. Literally. Twists are all we adults are made of. We say something, teach something, do something and appreciate something else completely.

Well I don’t want to sound like a management Guru and give a paragraphs of well learned wit and philosophical advice. Motivational words and lessons of life are not what words can convey completely. So instead of wording down what I have learnt I d rather incident-ise them. ( PS Authors and their rights to Flout )

I t was Another of those dry boring days at work where we were glued to those things considered as beauties after women( that’s what the Hundred Thousand Men around me say) Yes I am talking about the screens. We were glued to it while we wrenched our fists and broke our heads to understand why the bug was traveling and piggybacking on every other Program. The code kept getting deeper and more jargonish while I blinked my eyes and imagined my kohl clearing up , while my manager blinked his eyes and imagined me demoted( Sigh ). People have told me I think different distinct and I have a brain of a razor , only we don’t need to sharpen things here.( Gah! ).

I looked around myself to see a storm of tense faces waiting to deliver some Godforsaken Request on time and frantic calls on the VOIP and managers shuttling like they are suddenly aware about global warming. Sometimes I feel we as humans are tense about everything else than we should be. No one would pay them if they were working for Mother Earth . Now I know at least half of who read this will suddenly jump up with the familiarity of the word. Whatever!

Coming back to the point , our team finally decided to take break and hang out in CCD( Finally ) We moved on forward while a backup resource would glue himself to the computer hoping nothing too vital will pop up! And all this for some boring codes and nonsense designed to do simple things! Well anyway I breathed finally when we emerged from our basement while our team finally walked! And literally! We barely move our legs , except for the customary touch ups at the mirrors or some tea or lunch! And suddenly the sheer beauty of the sky and the green trees poked our eyesight while we tried to search for some kind of hierarchy or code swarming at the scene. And an idiot proved it by cracking a crappy technical joke about how the trees were actually like a cpu or something. While he gave parallel references to hundred thousand appliances which are supposed to be inside our computer I began wondering if he could draw something inside his empty head.

And finally the ordeal of walking with the oh I am not so friendly with anything non It ended at the café. Phew! I was already feeling out of place cause I wanted to climb one of the few trees there and shout hurrah! Don’t know what! It began raining suddenly! Hurray. The code frenzy geeks hushed in lest the dangerous drops of rain doest wipe pout the data in their pea brains. And I also heard an idiot say ‘acid rain’. Anyway my manager gave me a look of for once please behave like us while he signaled me enter and I coolly was clutching a tree. Maybe she was my sister. Who knows how the cycle of karma rotates. I am sure he must have been a spiny anteater. I hurled hundred thousand abuses remembering all that Captain Haddock swirled at the pirates. (Two faced slimy ant eater was like too perfect for him!).

Now while I was entering in I suddenly see this small kid in green shorts sitting outside the café. The fluttery butterfly mind that I have I flitted around till I circled around her. “Hi” I shrieked thinking shell smile and take a picture with me. She was green eyed and cute only she was underweight and brown haired and passed of as what every one call as a ragpicker. She smiled a toothless gracious smile. The lady that she was.

“ Kitna mangata hai Mem Saahab?” she questioned me in a tone that said-quick don’t waste time!

I was like “ what!”

She swiftly removed a cigarette and a cup of coffee and asked me “ Das de do “.

I was appalled to see this small seven year old selling ciggies and coffee outside CCD making a buck like that. A swarm of emotion past me and she could have been my niece or just any random kid. I signaled my annoyance and said” Itni Choti hun. Kisne bola cigarette bechne ko? “

“Madam yeh to dandha hai “ she said with an air of I-Know-my-work-don’t-disturb-me.

A swarm of bald and young men and women dropped in and got some cigarettes and coffee for a tenner! Appalling! A tenner could give mango juice! Gah! And how could they buy from a young one like that , have their puffs and coolly walk away like nothing happened. I mean what do people think? Would they let their children do that? Why then do they expect that some ones has the complete need to do it? Empathy Empty people I say! I burnt like a volcano suddenly! Nonsense I give a damn to the multinational I work in. I wont let this happen under my nose.

I looked at her and asked” Mummy kidhar hai tumhari?”

She skillfully replied” Ter ko kya karna ha? Mein school jati hun! Meri ma pe chillane ka nahi”

I was flabbergasted again. Look at the reply! Poor kid has grown ten more years while her childhood is the same. Suddenly her small brother came flitting from nowhere while he circled around her sister. She removed her cig and smoked while I coughed and choked. I ran to her and shouted that Id complain.

“Madam mein bees saal ki hun! Meer ko problem hain! Mein bachi dikhti hun“.

Again look at the precision driven already ready answer for every situation she has. I was as usual surprised. The kind of emotion I take with every incident and event that I see and express drains me totally that someday the very splurge of an idea shall kill me swiftly.

I looked at her helplessly and also complained to the people around. But gah!

Finally I settled down with a cig myself thinking she goes to school anyway! Wait a minute.

“ arey you said you were 20 and you going to school?”I blurted in English to see how she responded.

“ Arey madam I give chaai to schools . And waise to hum dus saal hai. “

And she had no regret that she lied to me a minute ago! I threw my cig away . I asked how many cigs she has and bought the whole damn bag. I was helpless. Didn’t know what to do! I knew if Id locate her parents nothing would ever come out! They would simply send her to another place. I knew that again tomorrow she would come and sell the same while her small bro would flit around like a butterfly and the cruel bad world would buy cigarettes from her.

The next day I went to the tapri Wallah close by and told him to put a small stall close to CCD so that the children don’t have to sell. Meanwhile I had planned to lure the kid to studying and teach her folks a lesson . I had already planned to collect some books and stuff for both of them.

The tapri Wallah blinks at me and says” Madam who mere bache hai! Haath lagaya to maar dalunga” and he came charging on me thinking I was taking them to some adoption agency!

I yelled at him in the broken hindi that I could and told him I d report to the Police! Crowd gathered like there was Arjun Rampal shooting for a movie or something. I was flabbergasted again. And from somewhere my manger appeared. “ Lady another testing needs to be done “ and he grabbed my hand while I ran with him into the welcome haze of my cubicle and code. The hazy bits and pieces of the nonsense on the screen seemed easier to tame and handle without being hurt. I love my work suddenly.

Coast

I have always been inspired by the beach the moon and all the allegory in between....
the ocean is like a cryptic mother her ways may be wierd her rage may be fierce her warmth may be too subtle but deep inside she has the soul of a child...she seems to tab the beach all virgin beautiful and independent.....she seems to have a tete a tete with the sands.....
Coast

Oh virgin sands of old existence
Wrapped in flames of change
Windy messengers across oceans
Strike on your naked face.

Tides of turmoil calmed
Streams of noise chill
In your cove in your warmth
All their blanks you fill.

All waves of the world coalesce
Collecting global sins
For children and beautiful fools
To tread upon and kill…