Snail Mail <3

Hello everydbody!
I’ve been off the blogosphere lately (courtsey my last year of school). I’m sorry for that but hey, I’m back!
A huge shout out to Jacob (from That’s So Jacob) who actually pulled me back here.

A week ago I had revieved a Snail Mail by Jacob Hellman (hope you checked out his awesome blog!)

This was the first time I had ever recieved a snail mail (weird ?) and that too from over the seas! I was overwhelmed – that’d be an understatement! The sheer excitement to open it and read the hand written content, the transference of ideas through the scent of fresh paper, the eagerness to get down to writing the reply – it was all a first time experince for me! And I loved it.  (I’d thought of posting a picture but then I’m not confident about making the contents public haha!)

I guess it’ll take some time for me to get back to my normal mode of writing …but Mr Hellman, you sure made my day!

I’ll be back to writing my original kinda posts soon! Stay tuned!

Mother !

I had to share this one! 

It was 12^th of November , two thousand something. Glittering earthen pots lit up my house, my neighbors’ house, practically the whole city and more. It seemed as if the sky had been upturned and the twinkling stars had fallen on earth. The occasion was ‘Chotti Diwali’ – as auspicious as a day could be.

My lovely mother, my father and myself had decided to burn firecrackers in the adjacent building – a building under construction, a building that belonged to us, a building that was soon to be lit up by my mother’s efforts and a number of earthen lamps. My sister, being the eco friendly one, had decided to stay back and enjoy the television shows instead.

Everything was nearly perfect. My mother followed my footsteps as I lead her upstairs. She had decided to light up the first floor as my father decided to walk on to the third one. Climbing up the first flight of stairs, beckoning to my mother, I took a 90 degree turn and started ascending the second one. But before I could lose sight of my mother, I saw her walk on straight instead of turning behind me.  I froze in horror as she disappeared in front of my eyes, right into the lift well built. She went down into the void of the well, with the lighted earthen pots filled with oil.

As the horror crept in, chilling me to the bone, the clatter of the fallen plate filled with pots filled my cold ears. I gave a horrified scream of terror. I yelled and yelled till my throat was dry and it hurt. Like needles, my own voice pricked my throat as I kept calling for her. My father rushed to me, leave alone my father – the whole neighborhood had collected near the dark building. Not a voice from my mother was heard. Rushing down I pulled my sister to the site, like a boy gone crazy. I was too worked up to speak. The lower half of the building, where mum had fallen, was filled with pointed nails, wooden pipes and other horrid things.

The worst part was my mother had never uttered a word. Was she ok?

When we finally reached back to the site, me and my sister, I saw my mother seated on a chair, all the neighbors clustered around her, her leg bleeding and resting on another chair, her face flinched up in pain.

But can anybody guess what she said when she saw us? Her very words were, “Are you children mad, have you locked the front door? Left it open as a feast to the robbers or what?” We were too surprised to speak, too relieved that she was ok, too shocked at her typical orders. She was still in her senses, rather she acted more sensible as compared to us. She had to undergo a severe operation later on, she’d broken two of her ribs and a hairline crack was spotted on her left leg. Her left side had loads of bruises.

Nobody knows how, what, why, etc of the accident and its purpose. But seeing her carry herself for the months of bed rest prescribed by the doc, I learnt that a mother is the most indispensible part of a family. She is the one who selflessly works not for herself but for the well being of our family. She used to wake up every morning at 4 to oversee that we go to school properly. She never abandoned her duties as a wife or a mother throughout, gulping down the pain she always was there for us.

A salute to her and all other mothers!

Samaira – A work of fictioN!

This is one of my worst posts I know!

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It was still dawn when I stepped out of the cab and walked towards the entry gate of the Delhi airport. The early morning February air was pleasantly cold.

I was travelling to Bengaluru to attend a college friend’s wedding. It had been four years since we graduated from the same college. This wedding was also going to be a reunion of our batch mates. But what I didn’t know was that the reunion would begin much ahead of time; right in the queue in front of the airline counter.

I was almost sure it was she. Same height! Same long hair! Same complexion! Curiosity had my eyes glued to her. And then about 60-odd seconds later, when she turned, she proved me right. My ex-girlfriend stood two places ahead of me in that queue. We had never met after the college farewell.

She scanned the airport, clearly looking for somebody. Her searching eyes passed over me. Just passed. She never noticed me. Or maybe she did and had decided to ignore me…I never knew.

A few minutes later, as I leaned back and closed my eyes in the waiting area, aware of her presence within a few yards, memories of the year 2012 pulled me in. The college farewell, the tears, the smiles, the promises floated back to me. But in the midst of them all, I stumbled upon that well avoided part of my mental book of memories which I had dreaded ever since the college farewell.

The breakup!

Well, it wasn’t really a breakup, I reminded myself. I had dumped her cruelly.

An involuntary sigh escaped me as the despair of 2012 started seeping in once again. I had, by now, accepted the fact that I had acted like a self centered, attention seeking, and egoistic pig. And I hadn’t yet apologized for my mistakes, owing to my male pride.

But now, when the only girl for whom my heart had fluttered was sitting yards away from me, a sheer sense of shamefulness engulfed me.

“Samaira, I think this is the right time for us to…to walk towards our own goals”, I had whispered to her in the farewell.

“What do you mean?”

“I think we should move on. I mean, I no longer want this relationship. My life goals are different. And you don’t fit in there!”

And like the perfect pervert I was, I had expected her to fall down on her knees, to beg me to stay, to shed tears for me.

But, like the sensible girl she’d always been, she had turned towards me with the words, “I won’t be able to live without you! The rest is your choice.”

I had walked off, never to return.

But every conscious moment of my life had been spent thinking about her voice, her smell, her talks, her secrets, her habits…about her!

And today, after 4 long years, she was finally right in front of me. She had never operated her facebook, her whatsapp or any other social media application since that fateful year. Yet, here she was, her eyes glued to her smart phone as she kept pushing her bangs off her face.

She hated bangs and had always avoided getting “flicks” during a haircut, I remembered. But times change, and so do people, I thought.

A black clad young fellow entered the area and almost blocked my view of her as he leaned down to whisper something over her shoulder. She shook her head and went back to typing on her phone as the man occupied the seat beside her. An ardent desire to punch him in the face rose in me as he pulled her close and held her by the shoulders while she rested her head on his shoulder.

It struck me harder than an act of blasphemy would strike a priest; harder than the apple struck Newton (whereby he gave whacky formulae to the world); harder than Cabrera’s bat struck the ball, as he leaned down to kiss her. With a frown scrunching up my dark circles to look darker, I watched on as she kissed him back and went back to her phone.

She had moved on. I had not.

The stark reality was harder than what I had imagined. I still loved her, but she didn’t. She had moved on!

They stuck together like Munchkin county Cows throughout the journey. I tried hard not to look, but failed terribly.

Once in Bengaluru and into the hotel I was booked on, I decided to push away thoughts of Samaira and the guy and enjoy the wedding.

We, my batch mates and I, had decided to meet up at Ahana’s place – a resident of Bengaluru itself.

For a minute, amongst hugs and handshakes, I had completely forgotten about Sam. But then, I saw the black clad fellow from the airport there. He was dressed up in a jeans and a shirt and was walking straight towards me.

“Rohan! My brother!” he greeted me. I looked on, completely perplexed, as he took my hands in his. I never knew him…did I?

I looked around for Samaira, but she was nowhere to be seen.

“Rohan? You recognized me right?” he asked, noting my baffled glances.

“Rohan!” he shook me repeatedly by the hand, and amongst the buzz of reunion I did something that I probably shouldn’t have.

Wham!

I punched him in the face. Right on his nose.

He took a step back. The hall grew silent. Every eye was on me. I looked around at those faces that I had known so well and then at the one standing in front of me. I wanted to apologize but a surge of emotions refrained me from doing so.

I staggered back a step or two, heading for the door. Heading out of the silent mob of stares and accusing glances. My eyes met Riya’s, Samaira’s best friend. They were glowing with rebuke. Why? Just because I had left Samaira for no particular reason? I wanted to yell out that Sam was happy, and that she should mind her own business.

But I walked off silently. Outside the building, a pleasant breeze cooled my brow. Digging my hands into my pant pockets, I walked on aimlessly into the ignominious darkness of an alley.

I couldn’t digest the fact that she didn’t whine for me, that she didn’t try to contact me. Maybe it was my “male ego”, as she used say long ago.

“Rohan!” I heard a distant voice. A woman’s voice. I turned around to find Riya standing at the alleyway entrance.

“Riya? Is that you…?” I asked, mentally wincing at my stupid question.

“No, this is Sam’s ghost reporting!” she yelled back. Lame!

“What do you want?” I fired.

“Your blood!” she retorted. Super lame!

I jogged back to her, unwillingly.

She looked me in the eye, “You punched Yash.”

A look of horror crept up my face as my feet grew cold. It was Yash!

He had been Sam’s neighbor and our batch mate and a good friend of mine for the couple of years he had been in our college. After a student exchange program, we had never met. Moreover, his clean shaved face and the fit built was nowhere near what he used to be years ago.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, “but it’s none of your business.”

The fact that Yash was with Sam was even harder to digest.

“Were you born a defaulter? I wish you wouldn’t have entered our lives in the first place Rohan! Do you have any idea about the amount of hate I currently carry for you!?” she looked at me, apparently expecting an answer.

I felt sick and a deep knot tightened in my stomach.

“You never even turned up at her funeral…” she almost whispered. I was a bit surprised to find tears welling up in her dark eyes.

“Funeral? Whose funeral?” I questioned.

She turned to hide her tears as a male voice replied, “Sam’s funeral.”

Yash stood behind her, a few drops of red staining the region below his nose which had been blood wiped off hastily.

“Sam’s funeral? What are you guys talking about?”

It was probably a mistake because at that very instant Riya turned at around said something under her breath and I was positive that her look alone could kill.

“Rohan…we need to talk”.

5 minutes later, the mild afternoon sun found us sitting in the Home Town Café with three untouched lattes kept on the table before us.

“Ok so I’m going against Riya and telling you something that I guess you need to know,” Yash said, breaking the awkward silence.

I nodded.

“Rohan, you remember the college farewell?” he started.

“Who wouldn’t,” Riya sliced in.

“You remember you went off to Delhi after the farewell, right?” Yash continued.

“Of course he does, you douche bag!” Riya interrupted again.

“You know what Sam did after that?”

I shook my head.

“She boarded a plane to come to you to Delhi. She wanted to see you for the last time,” Riya said, her voice still cold.

“But she never came to me…” I said, slowly.

“She never reached you Rohan,” Yash continued, “Remember the 2012 plane crash near Rohra?”

I shook my head again, my throat going dry.

“Do you live in a wild life sanction or don’t you have TV and a newspaper subscription?” Riya questioned, her tone cold enough to freeze steam into pointed icicles.

“Sam was on that plane,” Yash stated.

“She…did she die?” my voice croaked, my throat was dry and even the slightest effort to talk hurt in my stomach.

“No, not right away,” Riya answered, “She got a back injury. Her spinal cord was adversely affected and she went into abdominal coma for a few weeks. The doctors said that the operation involved could kill her.”

I was silent. The whole world seemed to be silent as Yash continued, “Sam had made friends with a girl in the plane. Her name’s Aanchal. She was with her master as a maid. When the plane crashed, the master died. And Aanchal was kept in the same hospital as Sam. For weeks no one came to take her responsibility. According to Sam, Aanchal was an orphan.”

I nodded again.

“Aanchal’s face was distorted. Completely. Sam knew that she was dying and so she requested her parents to adopt Aanchal as their own daughter,” Yash stopped to take a breath.

“Wait Yash, he ought to know Sam’s word,” turning to me Riya continued, “She said she had no will to stay alive after losing you. She asked Uncle to get Aanchal’s face done up. She wished Aanchal would have HER face. And she gave up her eyes to Aanchal. Aanchal has taken her place now…”

“You mean…the girl I saw you with was Aanchal?” I questioned, cautious not to meet Riya’s stare.

“Yes,” Yash replied.

“Rohan, do even feel a tiny bit of guilt residing in you? Why…why did you leave her in the first place? Were you tired of her? You had used her to the highest level possible and found her useless? Was it the reason?” Riya bombarded me with questions, half of which were lost in a jumble of words within my brain.

I wanted to yell at her to stop. I wanted to tell her how much I had loved Sam, how much I longed for her right then. I opened my mouth but no words came out. I couldn’t make sense of anything for a while

Sam was dead, and this was the hardest of blows I had had this week. Sam died on the way to meet ME.

I’d never see her again. All because of me!

“Can I …meet Anchal?” I whispered.

“No Rohan. You took away Sam from us. This is her second chance to life and we can’t let you spoil that,” Riya hissed before getting up to leave.

“Being a man is ok. But being a beast is not. Pride is ok, Rohan, ego is just not! Grow up man,” Yash said, before leaving.

Grow up…maybe I had to.

 

 

 

Atrocities of ‘CC’

Hello everybody!

Firstly, thanks for giving me so many followers!! Love each and every one of you! Thank you for the booming stats too!

As promised, I’ll be talking about the atrocities of coaching classes today (this will, probably, be the last post on teenagers and their mental status in India).

In India, 99 out 100 school kids attend a coaching institute (CC or COACHING CLASSES) right from the age of 6 or probably less! (Millenials, hold on, I’m talking about THIS generation! The alphas!)

So, it’s like out of 24 hrs, 6 hrs are spent in school, 8 hrs of sleeping and 4 hrs are spent in the coaching institutes. The rest of the 6 hours are spent eating, bathing and doing the enormous amounts of homework given by these coaching institutes. It’s not like they charge a feeble amount or something. Their fees shoot up to a lakh or more per annum. And that definitely is ridiculous!

But the funnier part is yet to come. This amount is paid by the hard working parents to the institutes NOT for a better career guidance to their kids but to provide RECREATION to the kids!

The situation today is something like this : The coaching registers are neat whereas we don’t even have a register for school. The coaching homework is done sincerely whereas we don’t ATTEND school. We have a 100% attendance throughout the year in the coaching classes, whereas we strive to complete the 75% compalsurized (is there such a word?) by school. Why?

Because, of course, coaching is more fun! You meet different people, have  no disciplinary actions taken against you and you’re waited on hand and foot there! You think this will help you get into your favourite college? Lol! I mock you poor ridiculous kids! Ever thought about those village boys who got into IIT and made news the previous year? What about the super 30?  They didn’t have a lakh to pay! Yet they’re doing better than you.

Now to those who manage to finally get into the IITs by getting tutored by these centres of education : How successful are you in life? If you think money is success and since you earn a good amount you’re successful, lemme clarify that you’re wrong. Of course everybody has a different definition to what success is, but basically it’s the good outcome of an undertaking. And money is not it.

Success is when you do something other than filing papers in a huge company. Success is when you construct a building that’s flawless, success is when you make a medicine that eradicates the need to go to a doctor often, success is when you find means of saving lives, success is when you THINK and make a change, success is when you make this world a better place.

The coaching centres are giving us knowledge without understanding. You think doing 150 numericals an hour is education? No! The proof that you’ve truly learnt something isn’t getting all of those 150 answers right. The actual proof comes when you can EXPLAIN the concept of at least one of those numericals to a complete lay person. But I know that half of the times you yourself don’t know it!

I agree I myself go to coaching classes, 4 hrs a day. Why you’d ask, eh? Just keeping up with the fad!

I haven’t joined a fancy air conditioned famous academy where I gotta pay a lakh per year, but I definitely have joined an academy. And trust me, it disheartens me to see the state of students there. Basically, to fulfil my dreams and somehow beat those ‘over smart’ pieces of printed encyclopaedias (I mean the students who can do 150 questions an hour),  to my favorite college I NEED to cheat. And hence I find myself in these classes.

Recently, there have been a number of issues regarding these classes. A boy A (check my previous posts ) committed suicide recently. His well wishers claim that it’s the physics teacher who forced him to join his private tuitions and the pressure eventually killed the child. The city calls him a ‘dalal’  (never mind the translation – just that it’s not a kind word). Well, to those city dwellers I question, who encouraged the rise of coaching classes? This physics teacher killed one student (I hope it’s not true), but the other ‘dalals’ like R and M (I’m sure some of you know what I’m talking about and to my foreign friend’s I’d say these are some great coaching institutes down here) are DESTROYING thousands of students. They’re ruining their career. Do you guys do anything about it.

The other day a boy claimed it isn’t abnormal for teenagers to drink and smoke now. To that boy I’d say : It IS abnormal man! It isn’t the age! Look where it landed poor A. It causes lack of emotional and mental stability! And these coaching centres are where bad habits breed!

Some of you would say that it’s purely on the teen to be a good child or a bad one. But I’d oppose that. Teenagers are emotionally imbalanced and have little say when bad habits are enforced on them. Trend is something they tend to adopt and when addiction is the latest trend, you can’t blame the teen !

As aware citizens of democratic India, it is OUR responsibility to stop this business called coaching (sounds so much like poaching!). Bug your school teachers, take the help of books and internet. Raise YOUR standards and not the amount you pay. I call out to those revolutionaries out there participating in candle marches : march against these ‘dalals’. Student force has a lot of power, if only it’s directed towards the right issues!

Wake up. Make this place a better one. Get a life. Dance, play, live, learn. Don’t mug up.

Enjoy life because you only live once.

Suiciders

The past few days have been hard for a number of people down here. A charming young boy committing suicide ain’t no joke! But in the light of this incident, I learnt a lot. While doing my research and interacting with people real time, I gotta know that reality and truth isn’t always appreciated.

Anyway, keeping all that aside, I’ve got a request to all those out there reading this and trying to get to me indirectly : If you guys have got the guts, speak to me personally instead of taking the aid of people who know me! Thank you!

Now, for those who aren’t aware of my last post : A boy ‘A’ (for discretion),16, committed suicide on 8th of March without stating his reason and now the whole city thinks the education system, teachers and schools are the villains.

To those who think the above statement is true and stuff : I’d like to point out that in the past week THREE students committed suicide in our state. Two of them left notes suggesting they didn’t want to fail in their examinations. They belonged to the Hoshangabad and Sagar district respectively. But A never wrote anything on these lines in his note!

Then we come to a global level. In the past few days 24 students committed suicide (thanks Tejaswi for this piece of information). Not all of them had the same physics teacher who asked them to take tuitions.

But yet, since we probably don’t like the physics teacher we should definitely blame it on him. Just because he’s troubled us a lot by taunting us in class and stuff we MUST blame him and make it hard for him. Since we weren’t allowed to attend the annual sports day because we try to bomb the school, we should blame it on the school. Just because we aren’t selected in the annual torch light display team, we should blame it on the school. Just because we have nothing to do we should blame the education system. Right?

This is a call to those who think they know enough to start banging down doors of the temple of education demanding justice. How are you so sure that the claims made are true? In the last post somewhere I mentioned the possibility of the lad being a drug addict. I mentioned the POSSIBILITY  and those people had ants in their pants, imagine what should be the reaction of the school when the teacher is being ALLEGED of being guilty.

I don’t overrule the possibility of the teacher pressurising the student, but do you think that the boy would commit suicide just before the exam then?

And how would you explain the other kids who killed themselves?

This suicidal apocalypse has a root that must be dug into. The teachers were harsher in the 80’s still our parents respected them. Then why don’t we do so now?

It is true that exposed to the dejection caused by failure doesn’t come to a student before the 10th grade in the current pattern of education by CBSE and that is a good reason why students are committing suicide, but let’s question why in the first place did this system come into force? It was because students of middle school were committing suicide back then!

So why were THEY (the middle school kids) giving up their life? Because the parents were pressurizing them to get good grades! Ha! So it zeros up on the parents now, eh?

Now let’s relate this to the case of A. He never wanted to opt for a science stream. His parents forced him. Parents pressurized him equally. So, if the school WAS pressuring (the physics teacher to be precise) and he’s being held responsible, so the parents should be too!

Anyway, I won’t take A into consideration now as people are getting personal. But I’d like to clarify that in no way am I indifferent to his death. I lament it as much as you do. But that doesn’t mean I start burning effigies and creating unnecessary nuisance!

We are all civilised humans. We need to use our brains instead of our weapons. Rather we must  make our brains the best weapon!

And then, guys (the one’s who say the physics teacher is the only one who’s guilty), you can never corner him legally as poor A is dead and can’t testify. But do you know what you CAN do? Stop making coaching classes your second homes. You guys are promoting business by going to coaching classes. In my opinion, we must STOP taking coaching until we really need it. And even if we DO need it we should stay back and bug our own school teachers to teach us more of the subjects and clear the doubts. Coaching classes are a root to many issues.

Yes I too go to coaching classes and I won’t deny that…I’ll definitely justify myself! But we’ll get to that next time.

Stay smiling, stay civilized! Stay blessed!

Once again, Rest in peace A, you were loved and will be remembered.

PS: Sorry I never knew what to use as the title so I used this.

Love humanity !

 

The suicide – A suicide!

On 8th of march, a 16 yr old boy commited suicide. For discretion, I’d refer to him as A In his note he wrote “No reason just don’t want to live”. The parents and other well wishers of A claim it’s his physics teacher’s fault. They say that the teacher forced him to take private tutions from him or else he’d fail A in the final exams. Just a day before the physics paper , A hung himself.
He’s dead now, dead and gone.
But the media and those WELL WISHERS aren’t gone. They’re still bugging the physics teacher and the school. The whole education system is being questioned.
These were facts. And now I’ll start with my point of view on this matter as a teen myself.
For those who blame the physics teacher. Darn you.  A failed throughout this academic year. Sources say he used to drink and smoke …and maybe indulged in other bad habits too.
For those who think physics was a pressure : guys you all are indirectly trying to say that the guy was too weak to handle life!!
Hundreds of students fail every year, the school doesn’t do anything to them !!
If at all he commited suicide because of studies, it was his parents fault ! They failed to provide him with support. They couldn’t make him belive that even if he failed, they’d be with him. For all we know, maybe they were the ones who pressurised him !!
To those who were outside the school shouting out slogans against the school and suggesting that “shoes should be rained ” on the school : You guys call yourselves ex students ? Heck! You don’t even deserve to be called students, you busted fickle minded rowdies ! This is what the school has taught you ? To disrespect your teachers and school ? To disrespect the temple of education ? Wow guys you all are doing good !
Won’t you all rest on peace until somebody has been blamed ? What if the guy had personal issues ? What if the guy was on drugs and in desperation (when he was deprived of it) he hung himself! What if it was love or betrayal ?
90% of those banging the doors of the school asking for justice dint even know A ! What is our society coming to ?
We are all playing a game called life and A decided to quit this game and so he did. If he had issues with somebody he would have mentioned it but since he didn’t , I’d say we shall leave it at that. The game’s on and we’re still playing it. We need to complete it instead of worrying about players who’ve left.
Blaming the education system is not the solution. Hundreds fail but they’re still alive !
And teachers ? They’re people who do their best to make our careers better …and all they receive in return is a meagre salary n such morons trying to blame them for everything. Even if that physics teacher has forced him to join his coaching (that too 4 days before the exam lol !) , he was doing it for the good of the child’s career !
To all the teachers : stop being so good , the society won’t give you anything except rude comments !
A : rest in peace chap ! I wish you wouldn’t have created such a mess after you.
I’m sorry if I just hurt anybody …and I’m sorry School on the behalf of the students who think you guys are to be blamed.
Sorry, A’s parents for you lost your lad but please don’t blame people who aren’t responsible !

Happy Women’s Day

Hello Blogmates!
It’s been so long since I’ve last written…I wonder if anybody missed me (No?)

Well I did miss blogosphere but owing to the exams I had last week and the cafeteria that’s a family venture (we started with that last week!), I was pretty busy!

Anyway, today, I’d like to wish each and every woman out there a very Happy Women’s Day!

To all the men out there, sorry that you’re not a women (no pun intended)!

Today, I’d like to put forth a small little question – a question I can’t really answer myself!

Do you think Love Jihad exists?

It would be interesting to read your comments!

The Love Triangle – A piece of Fiction

Sorry for being absent for such long stretches…my exams are on!

This is a piece of fiction. No pun intended.

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In the middle of the flight, Kiara woke up to go to the washroom. When she returned, she was too lazy to push her way into the middle seat. And with Rishaan readily offering to shift seats, the seating arrangement changed. With 20 minutes still remaining for the flight to land, a sleep starved Kiara took another power nap, this time holding Rishaan’s right hand more firmly. Rishaan’s other hand, though, nervously moved to touch Diya’s. Her heart skipped a beat. Diya pulled her hand away. But a defiant Rishaan held her wrist again, this time firmly and more reassuringly. The changing behavioral dynamics between the three perhaps gave out a foreboding of what was to come in Goa.

When the flight landed at the Dabolim Airport, Rishaan felt uncanny…his excitement seemed replaced by an unknown fear that he found very difficult to decipher.

 

Trying to shrug off the feeling, he turned to the girls, who were talking nineteen to the dozen, with a forced smile, “The cab’s waiting girls!”

“Kia…you may share the backseat with Rishaan…” Diya said in a soft tone.

“Don’t be stupid! The trip is an hour long…nearly 30 kilometers before we reach Colva. You better go to the back seat,” Rishaan said, eyeing her adoringly.

Diya nodded, climbing up beside Kiara. Rolling down the window, she let the cool air hit her face as the taxi sped on. The presence of Kiara, her best friend, who had so kindly agreed to accompany her to Goa for the fashion fest she had to attend, bugged her somehow. She was guilty of the fact that sooner or later Kiara would realize what a ditcher Rishaan was. She was surprised Kiara hadn’t yet noticed that Rishaan was not THE guy! She counted the days before she could leave this place.

She had tried her best not to include Rishaan, but since Kiara was the only companion she had – and no way Kiara would say no to Rishaan – Diya had no choice left but to go with duo. The duo that was soon to split – evidently.

Beside her, Kiara was lost in her own thoughts – too preoccupied to notice the taxi coming to a halt in the drive way of a beautiful resort. The signboard read Baywatch Beach Resort.

“Er-Kiara?” Rishaan turned to them rather awkwardly, “I’ve got some arrangements to see to …so I was wondering if you girls could pass the time somewhere…on the beach maybe? It’d just take me a couple of hours! I mean, yeah…I know you must be tired after the journey…”

“Ahan, no problem at all darling! See you at 4 then!” Kiara replied, her eyes shining brighter than the summer sun.

 

After arranging with the manager to get the two rooms they had booked previously decorated as per his directions, he took seat in one of the plush chairs placed in the lobby.

He ran a troubled hand through his already messy black bush of hair. He was doing it finally! He was going to propose Diya today…finally! Just the thought of her petite figure in his arms made adrenaline rush through his blood. The wait was going to get over!

But before that, he had a task much more difficult and heart wrenching in hand. He had to break up with Kiara. No matter how much he had waited for this day, now that he was facing it he realized how difficult it was going to be. In the end, Kiara and Rishaan were best friends and he couldn’t hurt her. But involuntarily, he will have to!

He couldn’t decide weather to rejoice for getting the love of his life, or to grieve on losing one of the best girlfriends aka friends he had.

And then there was this gut feeling that something was going to turn out wrong – terribly wrong.

 

A couple of hours later, the room with the lighter décor found Rishaan and Kiara sitting opposite each other, on an inverted chair and the bed respectively. Both had an uncomfortable look on their face. Kiara’s gloom was what mystified him. Did she get a hint of what was to come?

“Kiara, you know you’re more like a best friend to me. In every…” he started but was cut short by her.

“Rishaan. I need to talk to you.”

“To me?” Rishaan stuttered.

“Yes, who else?” her tone was not soft. For the first time, her bubbly chirpiness seemed to leave her. He could see she was sweating profusely and the heat had nothing to do with it.

“Rishaan,” she began, “You know we’ve shared some of the best times ever together. I know how much you love me honey, and trust me, each and every moment I’ve spent with you has been a memory cherished! But…”

“But?” he prompted.

“I think…I think I’ve fallen for somebody else…”

That came as a sharp blow to his unsuspecting mind.

“Rishaan, that person…I can’t describe you what it is! There’s a wide difference between liking and loving, and now this difference is crystal clear to me,” she continued, “I think I’ve got my soul mate. A single touch of that person makes my heart yelp in joy and…and a single word of appreciation by that person is like all honorary words I can imagine! Whenever I look at my love…I fight this terrible dilemma to go and get wrapped in a tight hug or stay put! It’s terribly beautiful Rishaan! It’s like I can literally hear my heart thudding in my chest when I am with that person…like I can feel the bells in my head ring loudly and then there’s this blinding lighting where the whole world vanishes and it’s just me and my love…” she was on her feet now, her words jumbling up and her cheeks pink.

“Kiara!” he said softly, “It’s ok! I understand.” He did a short war dance of victory in his mind and said, “You never felt this way with me?”

She shook her head.

“You want to go to that person…I mean you want to leave me?”

She nodded, “Rishaan you’ll always be my best friend trust me!”

He nodded back, “It’s ok. You may go Kiara. Your happiness is my first preference. But who’s he…?”

Her long lashes touched her bright red cheeks as she fixed her gaze on his shoes. An involuntary smile lifted her lips as she said, “Diya. She’s the one!”

His eyes grew bigger than saucers as he jumped up to his feet, “Can- can you repeat your words!”

“Diya,” she said, looking up to meet his gaze, “Rishaan, please don’t tell her anything. I don’t want to spoil our friendship!”

“Kiara Dhawan! Are you out of your mind? Did you…did you just say you love a GIRL!” he couldn’t digest it. No – never in a millions years would he be able to face it. He had kissed a lesbian! He had shared his drinks, his food and clothes with a lesbian. Was this a nightmare?

With the shock of his life yet to seep in completely, he took slow steps towards the lobby. He’d left Kiara alone in the room. And she had made no attempts to stop him. This was not what he had anticipated – not in the least! Kiara was not straight. His girlfriend wasn’t really his GIRL friend.

His phone rang breaking through the thousand questions swirling in his mind.

Mechanically, he picked it up.

“Rishaan?” a voice spoke form the other end, the sound was like chocolate to his ears, “Where are you?”

He’d completely forgotten about Diya. He had left her waiting in the other room.

With his mind going crazy with Kiara’s confession, he walked to the other room – the richly decorated one.

Taking one unstable step inside, he saw that Diya was seated on the bed with red silk covers. Her hands lay calmly on her lap and her perfectly straight hair was pulled back into a loose bun. Her serene form gave him the break he needed.

“Diya?” he whispered, walking up to her and resting his fickle minded self beside her.

“Where had you vanished?”

“I…well…I have been betrayed traumatically!” he said.

“How?” Diya asked, cautiously.

He reached out to hold her hand, which she allowed him to do. He moved closer and whispered in a husky voice, “You are looking gorgeous in this outfit.”

Her spine straightened as he inched closer.

“Do you know what love’s like?” he whispered. Now his thighs touched hers, his hand went around her waist to pull her closer. She gave the first signs of resistance by pulling herself away from him.

“Rishaan!” she exclaimed as he held her firmly by the wrist.

The dim lightings hid the tears in his eyes. They were tears of …what? Rishaan never knew. Maybe rejection from Kiara. Or was it just because of the fact that his girlfriend was a lesbian? “Ex-girlfriend,” he corrected himself.

“Sorry?” Diya said.

“Diya, a single touch of yours make my heart yelp in joy and a single word of appreciation by you is like all honorary words I can imagine!” he said, repeating Kiara’s words, “Whenever I look at you…I fight this terrible dilemma to go and get wrapped in a tight hug or stay put! It’s terribly beautiful Diya…love is terribly beautiful!”

“Rishaan,” she cried, jumping up to her feet. “Are you nuts?”

“In your love!”

“Stop it! I don’t love you Rishaan and I never will!”

“But why? Answer me Diya! I’ve seen it! You’re more comfortable with me than your childhood friend Kiara! You prefer sitting beside me than with Kiara. Isn’t that enough proof that you love me? Listen to your heart Diya!”

“I am! I am listening to my heart! And it says it’s already somebody else’s!”

“Whose?” he asked, on his feet now.

With the sudden intensity of an overinflated balloon, she burst, “Kiara’s! I love her. HER not you, you self centered brat! And you want to know why I avoid her? Because every time she’s near me I feel like tangling my arms around hers. She’s like a deprived piece of heaven to me. I just can’t tell her about my true feelings …because she’s …ah Rishaan just leave me alone! You’ve heard enough already. And for heaven’s sake…don’t open your busted mouth in front of her.”

He let go of her hand and took a step back, as if she was a contagious disease.

He slumped down on the red sheets. His face was emotionless at this point. His eyes were a window to his dilapidated soul. Was this real? Was she really saying this?

He couldn’t believe for a moment that this wasn’t a fairy tale. Was this some kind of a gross joke planned by Diya and Kiara as a revenge of what they had suspected he had been doing!?

He sat helpless as she left the room. He was strangled in Goa with a couple of girls who weren’t really girls. He had come here, looking for passion, love and a promising future. But he was going to leave with a broken heart, a shocked mind and a non- trusting soul.

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Comments please!

 

Hansel And Gretel

Was just missing that innocent piece of childhood I’ve (maybe) lost!

Let’s have a chat post here! Comment! How’re you doing today?

Caution:Exams ahead!

Greetings mates!

I’m going through THAT time of the year.

Yes it’s THAT time. The time when you know that the final exams are round the corner and you haven’t prepared a bit. The time when you feel like life’s gonna tumble and you won’t even be able to earn your bread (forget about strawberries dipped in dark chocolate)!

Anyway, what I wanted to discuss today is the study pattern of the contemporary world. Is it right? Well does it leave the child with enough to time actually “discover” stuff? I don’t know about other countries, but in India – life of a student is miserable.

To think deeper, we see that Gaglelio, Newton, Archimedes – great scientists – had never sat in their laboratories writing down gibberish on a piece of paper and making frantic calculations! No!

Galileo spent hours in a church just observing the pendulum. Newton spent time under apple tree I’m sure. And Archimedes took lazy baths.

But students today? They wake up in the morning, go to school, come back, go to coaching classes, return home and study a bit more so that their brains could go to hell and then eat a bit and go off to sleep (that’s for 4 hrs). They stink sometimes due to the lack of time (means no bath!). They are sleep and food deprived. They have no social life. And then they finally get into THE IIT ! Yay – goal achieved.

But then when they look back at their earlier years of life they see that there’s nothing – absolutely nothing – that they can laugh about or smile on.

Is this the way I am supposed to live life?

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Anybody interested in guest blogging?

Email me at : aayusibiswas@gmail.com