Friday, June 30, 2006
DREAM
They uprooted the tree, the very first of the evidences to be destroyed. Nobody could ever imagine, what lay in the womb of the huge tree, that's why no body even bothered to take a look inside. There was the man, once an influential leader, curled up, almost doubled, hiding in the trunk, dirty and frail. The tree did not betray him, the same tree under which he had spent so many of his days, when he was respected and recognised by the masses. He moved slowly, as if each movement of his was causing him great pain, any sharp sudden movement would prbably snap his bones. He struggled and climbed out of the trunk of the giant tree. He stood there for a moment, as if gazing at his friend, who lost its life saving him. He turned, nothing was left, all that glow and charm was lost, there was nothing but pain in those eyes, his once handsome face was beaten and rugged. No one could believe that such a gentleman a time long ago, had become so wild to the looks.
There was alarm in his eyes, he ran to the nearby bush, a pack of wolves was passing by, he followed the pack, maintaining a safe distance. After going some distance, he heard some voices, the wolves took shelter in a nearby cave, and he took refuge behind a huge rock. A nomadic tribe was passing the forest. Slowly steadily, he came out from behind the rock, he tried to stay covered behind the bushes so as to avoid the tribe from noticing him. They walked for miles until they came upon a small town.
He was starving and thirsty. In the distance a small house, caught his eye. There was a small balcony on the first floor which led to the kitchen. There was a tree just next to it, without wasting a minute he climbed the tree, into the balcony and went inside the kitchen. It was deserted. He quickly grabbed a piece of bread on the table and ate it hungrily. There was a small jug filled with water, he reached for it, when suddenly he heard someone coming up the stairs. He hurriedly went to the balcony and hid himself behind an old box.
The kitchen's door opened, and in came an old man. His skin was pale, but there was certain charisma about him, which commanded respect. He didnt notice the missing bread and the crumbs which littered the floor. He went to the fridge and extracted an apple, and went down with it, closing the kitchen door behind him.
After the old man left, he stayed there for a while looking at the kitchen door. Then after a few seconds, he rushed to the kitchen grabbed the jug and started drinking, spilling most of the water all over his front. He went back to the balcony and hid himself behind the box.
He got up startled, when he heard a crash. For a few moments he couldn't recollect where he was, when slowly everything flashed before his eyes. He ducked under the box. After a while, he slowly peeped out of the balcony, on the road below, a car in the parking lot of the neighbours was hit by a motorist. A man was screaming and swearing at a teenaged boy, when a woman came from inside, the neighbouring house, said something to the man and both of them went inside dragging the teenager along.
Up in the balcony he heaved a sigh of relief. He heard music being played in the room below. He sat there listening to the soft melodious sound of the flute. His eyes closed and he thought about the past.
He was addressing a small congregation, in a luxurious assembly hall. He finished his speech and the hall filled with applause.
Suddenly, the kitchen door opened, and he was jolted back to reality. The old man entered the kitchen. He lit the stove, and placed a saucepan on it. Then he reached for the fridge and took out some vegetables and started to cook. Then he took out a loaf of bread and started cutting it. He cut two pieces and placed the loaf back. He took a piece of bread placed it in a plate, then he removed the pan from the stove and emptied half of it in the plate. He left the rest in the pan and placed it on the table next to the piece of the bread which was left. He then turned towards the door, closing it behind him, he climbed down the stairs.
He was watching the old man from behind the box. As soon as the man left the kitchen. He slowly went towards the table, and stared at the food. He couldnt stop himself, and started eating, he ate very quickly. After finishing he went back to his hiding place.
The old man came up the stairs, placed his plate in the basin, turned towards the table and looked at the pan. In the balcony, a small gasp, escaped his mouth. The old man picked up the empty pan and placed it in the basin, and then went back downstairs. He heaved a sigh of relief.
He opened his eyes, the sun shone from the foliage of the trees. He rubbed his eyes, and sat tucked behind the box. There was no sound from the kitchen, none from the room below either. He heard the sound of water being sprayed. He craned his neck to peer down, without being noticed, the old man was watering the plants in the garden. The neighbour was raking leaves.
He started thinking, it was after so many days, that he couldnt even remember, since he had good food, in fact it had been so many days since he had any food. He felt content, yesterday nights food had given him a very different feeling. He thanked the old man, blessed him in his mind, prayed for him silently.
He heard hurried footsteps up the stairs, he started thinking quickly. The old man wasn't capable of climbing so fast up the stairs. He panicked, he leaped from behind the box, looked down, and just when the kitchen door was about to open, he jumped, right on the road, the neighbour turned and saw him.
Now that the neighbour had seen him, he turned to look, the old man was no where in the garden. He started running, the neighbour darted behind him. He ran faster, the neighbour followed, at the end of the avenue, there was a crossing, he took a right and stopped running but his walkin pace was quick. He turned and entered a building. The neighbour came panting, he couldn't see where had the man escaped. He waited for a while and returned.
He was hiding in the building. When suddenly a huge truck went past, and he stared at it, his mouth agape. The truck was carrying an uprooted life size statue, his eyes filled with tears, looking at his stone replica. He felt a lump rise in his throat, his heart started burning, he wanted to scream. His eyes fell on a line on which some clothes were left to dry, he hurried towards it.
When he came out from the building, he was wearing a decent pair of pants and a good shirt. He started walking in the direction of the truck. As he kept on walking, slowly the road became dense, there were many people and vehicles on the road. No body took any notice of him. There was a building at the end of the road, he recognised it, he headed straight for it. He started climbing the stairs, when he suddenly felt as though some one was watching him. He didnt dare to turn, he kept on climbing, when suddenly he saw a couple of men staring down at him. He recognised the look on their face, he turned and started running, another two men blocked his way, he pushed them hard and they went rolling down the stairs, he kept on running. He came to the road and kept running, four men were following him. He turned in at the avenue, and saw the neighbour on a bicycle staring at him. He looked at the neighbour in the eye, the neighbour studied his face, and caught his arm and started riding his bicycle. The man dragged along, trying to run, but couldnt keep up with the speed. Suddenly he placed his hand on the arm of the neighbour and squeezed it slightly, the neighbour stopped. The four men were coming closer. He looked up in the balcony, the old man was standing with a little girl in his arms. He looked at the old man, the old man recognized the look on his face, and tears rolled down his eyes, as he looked at the girl and back at him, down on the road. He smiled at the old man. Suddenly there was a loud bang, and he felt an excruciating pain, in his chest, warm blood oozed out. He fell to the ground, looked at the sky, smiled, and closed his eyes forever.
Thursday, June 29, 2006
PEBBLES
The first time I got a fish tank, my father got me a pair of Black Mollys and a pair of Goldfish. One of the goldfish was named Pebbles and the other Bubbles. Later, as time went by, we added more goldfish to the tank. As most of you might be aware that goldfish are very delicate, any climatic change occurs and they die. Also, they arent able to judge how much they should eat. The more you feed them, the more they eat, and they may instantaneously die of overeating. Bubbles didnt last long, she died, the reason, I couldnt infer. As more and more fish were added, their deaths also continued. Its very sad to see a fish die. When they are alive, they are such marvellous creatures. They are beautiful, delicate, active, they soon become a part of the family. Many might think, how is this possible? But, its true. It was either my mother or me who used to feed them, and the moment they would sense either of us near the fish tank, they would all swim up and open their tiny mouths expecting food. But, if a stranger would come close, they would all swim to the bottom and the corner most spot of the tank and stay there, till that person left. I dont know how they were able to identify me or my mother? I think that was all possible because we had an unseen bond among us.
So, like I said, many fish wouldnt even last a couple of days, and would die. But, Pebbles, she was different. She lasted the longest. I guess because she was my favourite. We had to keep changing the water of the tank every fortnight or so, and we needed to transfer the fish, so that we could clean the tank and fill fresh water. When I used to fish out the other fish they would panic, first of all it used to be really difficult to catch hold of a live fish in the tank, to top it many of them would slip out of my hands. This operation was very difficult. Coz you need to have patience, you need to have a good deal of concentration and need to be highly careful, you cannot squeeze a fish or grab it roughly, all this has to be done very very tenderly. But, Pebbles, she was very calm. The moment I used to put my hand in the water, she would swim upto my palm and peck it. I would take her in my palm, and she would still remain calm. Pebbles was the best! She used to have tonnes of fun. In another incidence, I had got this really tiny, baby goldfish, and she had so much energy, so much of it, I cant explain. She would keep on swimming all across the tank. If the other fish were sleeping (I dont know when a fish sleeps as they dont have eyelids, so sleeping here relates to a fish almost motionless in a corner) she would go on bumping in them and waking them up ( waking = sudden startled movements just after the sleeping phase). She was naughty, and such a darling. So when it was time for this little monster to sleep, she would quietly swim towards pebbles, cuddle up under her and sleep. No one dared to disturb the little devil when she was with Pebbles.
In a village you have a wise man to whom everyone goes for advice, and everyone respects him and his word, Pebbles was something like that in my tank. Always calm, suave, charming and the wisest of all.
Pebbles was alive for more than a year. I remember just before dying, she bloated up and her body tilted on one side (generally happens when a fish is about to die). I knew her end had arrived, and no matter what I tried I knew she would die suffering like this, I felt very helpless. That night I took Pebbles in a separate jar, and I prayed. Prayed, that she gets well. Prayed that she doesnt suffer. But, I think, her death was end to her suffering. It really pains to see a fish just before its about to die.
Even though Pebbles is no longer with me, I still remember her, I still miss her. I am sure there was a special bond we shared, there was always something between the two of us, she was my favourite fish, the best of all! I miss you Pebbles! But, death is not the end, but a beginning! I wish Pebbles all the best for her new beginning!
Thursday, June 22, 2006
Being Myself...
I dont know when was the last time i was actually myself. And even if i think of some moment when i thought that i was being myself, i later ended up contemplating and realising that actually it wasnt me.
How many times do we actually be ourselves? Each act of ours is governed by so many things, right from our companions, time, day etc etc i needn't list them down as there are millions of them.
I think the last time i actually was myself was when i was a kid. As a kid you have no worries and most importantly you dont judge your thoughts, your actions etc.
So wat is it exactly being yourself? If you look at it from a different point of view, even this judging and contemplating is a part of being yourself, because after all its you who is judging and contemplating.
But then again the question arises, that if you are actually being yourself, whats the need to judge?!
Does life has all these complexities? I doubt!
Doesnt each one of us crave to be our ownself, but in the end so many times we end up pretending or faking those emotions. So, why do we do it? Whats the need to do it? Why pretend? You are living your life for yourself not for someone else!