Episode 7.1 (When Frodo flew......Alas!!!)

P.S. : The following is a slight detour from the normal course of the story and should as well be printed after Episode 8. However due to some reasons, its printing was essential. May the readers know Frodo the way Prashant and Karuna did.

They say turtles live for over hundred years. The paradox was self emanating from the situation no one had wanted and no one had foreseen. It was only minutes before they would discover the lifeless ‘Frodo’ floating in silent peace in his blue tub; the water muddy probably with his last act of self loathing or his first act of silent disapproval.
Wait! I never told you about ‘Frodo’ then! Did I??

************
Prashant was brushing his teeth in his flat that morning, admiring the new strands of goatee that had grown overnight after he had shaved and cologned. There was an inherent laziness in this act. He used to call it ‘calculated precision’, but the taxonomy was invalid. It was just dismal laziness. Not far from where he was staying, Karuna was tending her hair in front of the mirror humming softly “Aaj phir jeene ki tamanna…” oblivious to the death which had silently crept into the blue tub which lay quietly disarrayed near the window.
***********
A few minutes later Prashant received the call. Karuna was crying at the other end. What he heard did not make much sense. He heard the muffled words ‘Frodo’, ‘dead’, ’why’ and ‘Fuck’. He stopped the narcissism, splashed his face with cold water, rinsed quickly, bespectacled himself and ran. It is not that there were no taxis outside. It was just that running seemed the perfect escape. It consumed him with exhaustion tripping his brain from thinking too much. For a moment he cursed himself for the selfishness and his hatred for reality. The scene however could only be delayed but not avoided.

He reached outside flat 4/110 of Juhu Tarang building and rang the bell with a heavy heart. In some ways he had anticipated the gloom inside the hall but as he entered, the intensity of the loss hit him tremendously. Karuna sat near the window staring into her phone. He walked silently up to her. He wanted to say all sorts of comforting things but he ended up saying
“C’mon! It was just a turtle!!”
He knew he had delivered the most impolite condolence. She slapped him in his face and clung to his shirt. The crying was inevitable; the loss was not!
“How?” he asked putting a hand around her back.
“I don’t know. Why?” He had no answer.
“Maybe God works in mysterious ways and they are stupid most of the times.” She answered the question she herself had posed in silent dejection. It sure was a ponderous question. Intuition is at such a handicap at such times that the mind forgets see through things.

“Let’s go out for a walk. It will help you feel better!” his consolation continued.
“I don’t need a fucking excuse to escape the scene. Don’t you get it? Frodo is gone. The flying Frodo is no more. He has probably flown aw…..ay too….fa..r” she tried to shout but her words failed her. But now that she had got all verbal, the fact that the tiny turtle was dead was all the more hard hitting.

“I need to inform Aksu but I can’t do it on phone.” She sat fiddling with the phone but not gathering the courage to make the dreadful call.
He sat clinging her close to her thinking about the day he had first met Frodo; the day Karuna, Aksu and Mala had painted Frodo’s shell with nail paint; the day he had held Frodo on his palm and he had poked his head out of his tiny shell , slowly turning it in all directions like a visitor exploring a newfound city; how he had spread his arms and legs like a bird making his first attempt to fly out of his grasp- that was the day he had named him ‘the flying Frodo’. He remembered his quick recoil in his shell as he had tapped him on his forehead. ‘Ahh!! Shy Frodo!!’. So many names seemed nominal now that the face behind them was lost in water. He felt an itch and remembered how Frodo used to dig his tiny nails in his hand as he looked for a stable substrate to walk upon. He laughed in futile irony!

“Fuck this! I am leaving!” He had tears in his eyes as he said this.
“I’ll come with you.” They did need an escape from all this but the silently floating Frodo in his blue tub was probably smiling beneath his shell.

Prashant scanned the room one last time. At one end was Frodo swaying in his humble abode and at the other end on the table lay the yellow cylindrical bottle titled ‘ToTo Food’ staring in blank dismay at the sudden death of someone it had so happily fed and probably tried to feed during the last minutes as some uneaten pellets of ‘ToTo Food’ lay untouched in the blue tub.
****** end of episode***

Their Story(Episode 7)

A train, a journey and the train journey

“I smell smoke!” Karuna was sniffing all around.
“I smell awesome…!!”
“I mean I think someone is smoking.” She retaliated but her nose was still sniffing.
“Ooh!! And I thought we were playing that game where we are supposed to tell how we smell.”
“Have you always got to be this sarcastic?”
“Have you always got to be so naïve?”
There was some silence for the time being. He enjoyed toying with her. It granted him a sense of carefree dominance. He enjoyed being on top.(Ahh!! You sick witted morons!!)
“By the way, do you know that there is a Rs. 200 fine or 6 months of imprisonment or both if you are caught.”
“Yes. I created the punishment the day I created cigarettes.”
“Really!! This bad? You can be serious sometimes. I won’t elope. When I said you were funny , it doesn’t mean that you attempt a joke at a funeral.”
Silence.
The window showed various scenes as the Ahmednagar-Mumbra Express zoomed through mountains, rattled over bridges stopping occasionally at a station or two every forty five minutes. Prashant sat huddled up inside a blanket reading ‘Atlas Shrugged’ sipping tea from an IRCTC cup and cursing the tea maker with every sip. Karuna sat leafing through the pages of a Biopharmaceutical magazine.
This journey was different. Very different from the one they had undertaken four years ago. She knew he retorted to jokes to say something for he was out of words most of the time. They both sensed it, however no one spoke a word about the uneasiness that had distanced them. Something was very wrong.
“I want to tell a story.” She began by closing his book and keeping it on her side. He gave a nod of dissent.
“You really think Ayn Rand is more interesting than I am?” she was complaining.
“Well!! Intelligent…yeah sure…!! So, what story? It better be about the hot chick who lives across the apartment.”
She smiled. There was no hot chick across the apartment. There was no apartment either.
“Well… no it’s about a train journey.”
“Oooh!! Déjà vu already!! Isn’t it a little inappropriate?”
“No.”
And she began a story about a train and the journey that they both had forgotten.
“Once upon a time….” She had merely started when he cut her short.
“Why do all your stories begin with the same fricking line, Grandma?”
“Fuck off!! Get back to your aunt Ayn Rand.” She started sulking. He laughed, helped his hand across her back and said “Well….actually she is not as hot as you are!! So the story yeah…”
She sulked some more.
“Should I get some specialist in here?” he said with a yawn and a wriggle.
“No! a ‘sorry’ will do the job…” she made a face.
“Ehh!! You are getting no sorry out of me. So the story….”
“So! There was this guy who is traveling with his love interest in a train with his cousins Vyom, Rashi and Reshma.”
He had to cut her short for he could not stop grinning.
“You know they are actual people. I mean you know Vyom, Rashi and reshma are actually my cousins. You could not come up with better names?”
“Well, Rashi is fine but Vyom seems kind of out of this world and Reshma.., don’t even get me started on that!!”
“Yeah! It sure is. Like you never watched Captain Vyom. It’s uber cool…..!!”
She was eyeing him with a constant scrutiny. He stopped talking. “Very well continue…Should I get some napkins? Just in case the ending is not so convenient. Well at least stop staring. Alright I won’t speak no more.”
“You know what? Fuck you!!” She looked infuriated. Her ears were red and it seemed that she would happily kill Prashant.
“You know what? When taken literally, it is a very pleasant curse….!!!” The grin refused to leave his face. He had won this one fair and square. Even she was smiling now. She sipped from the can of Frooti until it made an irritating gurgling sound. She continued looking out of the glass window.
“Well all I can see outside is people shitting in the fields. Its an unpleasant sight for me. I am wondering which of the semi nudes caught your attention!!”
She punched him in his stomach, drew the curtains and began.
“Look I will tell you the story only under the condition that you do not interrupt me. Deal?”
Prashant nodded in silent approval. She began quietly. He knew he had to be very careful now. He could sense the after effects of the punch in his stomach. The punch had been impregnated with a sense of purpose. No more jokes. He promised himself. Suddenly the air conditioned compartment grew colder. She huddled closer in the blanket. He could smell the perfume she was wearing. He liked it. It was a gift to her from a guy who had a crush on her. It smelt a little of lavender. It had a small delightful aroma of lilies and dry twigs and a lot of antiseptic. He was laughing in his head for he smelled ‘antiseptic’. Ahh!! The healing touch of love…!!
His concentration kept oscillating between the vociferous discussion on the political situation in Bharatpur and Karuna’s mellow narration of the story he felt he remembered from somewhere. It was the story of a train journey much like today. It was about a couple so madly in love who could not keep their hands off each other. It was all mellow and beautiful that it seemed out of the world, albeit so familiar.
The evening was drawing to a close as she came to an end of the narration. She concluded saying:

“……………and he looked at her as the wind blew her hair revealing a small pimple on her forhead. She looked around and saw him staring at the small bulge as it was a stain of imperfection upon a satin cloth. She grew conscious in the presence of Vyom, Rashi and Reshma.
She was still smiling at a joke that he had cracked a minute ago. She heard a whisper: “I wish I could always keep you this happy!!!” and she understood everything. She had known who had whispered and she knew no one else had heard it.”

Karuna finished placing the coffee cup on the stand beside. “So what do you think?” she asked Prashant.
“Really? They were traveling in second class sleeper? You said that the wind was blowing her hair. Right?” He looked at her inquisitively as if he had made a million dollar observation.
“Ohh!! Crapp..!!”
**************************************
He had taken the evening off. They had not spoken since they had reached Ahmednagar.He was taking a stroll along the tracks. Walking, thinking, pondering over what went wrong and when? He could hear the distant roar of train engines leaving the platforms nearby. The phone rang.
It was Karuna. He laughed soundlessly. He answered the call.
“You know what? The story and the characters were not fictional. They were….”. There was a distant roar and none could hear either. She was confused as to where the hell was he?
He remained silent. She could only hear him breath heavily. He had known it all along. It was their story. He knew where she was getting at. His silence was unbearable. She had to know for sure. She asked him the question she had on her mind since long.
“Tell me!! They were us. Long ago. What changed?”
He coughed. A loud siren seemed approaching fast. There was light in his eyes.
“Well…..we…..”
It struck her suddenly. He was near the train station. In times like these the heart thinks the worst. And before he could finish the sentence, he was hit by a train……………..
**************************(to be continued)***************

दो चार घडी की रात

आज विगत की झान्झारियों पर कम्बु नए दमकते हैं,
और पुरानी दीवारों पर झालर नए लटकते हैं ||
रात घटित कुछ हुई विभा चंचल उमगी विश्वस्त प्रखर,
कुछ पेड़ों पर आये किसलय, उर में पराग स्वछन्द भ्रमर ||१||

किन्तु उर की कथा नहीं यह स्वमुख से कहने की है,
हाय ! करें क्या, दशा मौन भी तो यह ना रहने की है||
सच है आज स्वर नए , गीत उजले-उजले से लगते हैं,
और अकर्मों के प्याले धुंधले-धुंधले से लगते हैं ||२||

कुछ पल भर को संगीत नया उद्वेलित सा कर जाता है,
जब आती तब की याद हाय, उर; उर में ही कट जाता है ||
कुछ कहो; नहीं अब मौन रहो, इस विष को अवरोधूं कैसे?
संतप्त ह्रदय की पीड़ा को, तुम ही बोलो बोधूं कैसे? ||३||

जिस पथ पल निकल पड़े थे वर्षों पूर्व अबी भी बाकी है,
कुछ गलती अपनी हाय, और कुछ मौसम की बदहाली है ||
किन्तु शिखर शोभित, जगमग सा क्षितिज प्रभा उजलता है ,
देख उसे मन का वैभव, विश्वास हिलोरें लाता है ||४||

है सत्य शांति का पथ किंचित भी शांत नहीं रह पाता है,
आपद से धूमिल नर किन्तु कुछ और निखर सा आता है ||
हाँ, सुगम नहीं थी राह किन्तु अब शिखर प्रलोभन देता है,
उकसाता है, उत्साह गरज कर मन आतुर हो जाता है ||५||

कुछ चार घडी की रात अभी दो चार कदम बस चलना है,
नर की भारी उछ्वासों से व्याधि पाषाण पिघलना है ||
हाँ! वही श्रिंग जो धमक रहा विधु की धीमी सी काया में,
हो जाएगा लुप्त प्राप्त कर तुम्हे तुम्हारी माया में ||६||

Episode 7 (The Conversation)

Over Four years later

He felt the cold of the bench on his butt. It was not weird to feel the same given the chilling weather that had befallen upon the city. The city lights were dim enough to conceal the faces and reduce the human spectacles to a silhouette. He waited. It was going to be a long night. Meanwhile, his cell beeped. It was a message. He loved messages. They gave you the comfort to not react impulsively. They nurtured your laziness in contrast to the phone rings where you have to immediately do the honors. He smiled at his immaculate logic.
Defiance is a treacherous feeling, he thought. Relationships are overhyped. He pulled out the black Nokia 6030 from his back pocket and waited for some time.
1 message received.
“C u in 15 mins at d CCD at InfoCom. --K S”
He loved those initials. They belonged to Karuna.
He had time to kill. He took out the packet of ‘Milds’ from his pocket and lit it. Smoke is dangerous. The pack said “Smoking Kills” in bold letters. He laughed at the lameness of the same. Everything kills. The question is how early. Probably smoking kills earlier. That would have been more sensible.
“Bloody Democracy” he cursed for no reason.
She detested smoke. She hated smokers. He lit it anyway.
“I have fifteen minutes.” He consoled himself. He waited outside the CCD. He thought of entering some attire shop to kill time but he refrained and stuck to the cigarette.
He finished it with a silent exhale. He cursed all smokers for the twitch he felt in his throat.
Three more minutes. He was excited. He was seeing her after a long time.


“You have been smoking.” Were her first words.
‘Hmm…’he coughed.
“How have you been?”
“Sad. You?” he inquired
“Unhappy.”
“Isn’t it the same thing?”
“No”
“How? The dictionary says they are the same”
“I hate words.”
“Do you love me? Still..??”
“I don’t know. But I do want to slap you”
“Why?”
“You have been ignorant.”
“Of what?”
“Me”
He allowed the silence to settle in for some time as the genteel lady with the plastic smile was coming in for orders.
“What will you have sir?”
He scanned the menu for the cheapest coffee. He hated coffee. But the situation wasn’t so lively either.
“One cappuccino please”
She turned towards Karuna.
“And for the la..”
“She won’t have anything. Thank you.” He cut her short. The silence was eerie. The lady took to her exit. This wasn’t a romantic date she thought and cursed herself for the tipless transaction she was about to embark upon.
“Why did you order for me?”
“I did not order for you.”
“Yes. Exactly. Why did you not order something for me?”
“You have me. Isn’t it enough?”
“No. I want coffee.”
“Do you need coffee?”
“No. I just want it. ‘Needs’ and ‘wants’ are separate nouns.”
“Would you like it with or without cream?”
“I don’t like cream.”
“So will you need cream?”
She smiled. Probably for the first time this evening. They had begun to settle in. They had a lot to talk about apart from ‘needs’ and ‘wants’. But then ‘wants’ were their first of the umpteen agendas.
***
He sat looking at a couple happily chatting at the corner in the room. She caught his gaze.
“They look happy. What do you think?” She said.
“Yeah. There’s a pair who is enjoying every penny spent on the coffee.”
“It is not coffee. It’s a milkshake and they are sipping from one single glass. On a different note, you have been unkind.”
“You never understood metaphors then. Did you?”
“Do you think it’s going to be his lucky night tonight?”
“Well if it does, she will have a lot more to thank for!” He quickly retaliated. It was a matter of loyalty to one’s tribe.
“Ehh!! She is way out of his bounds. I don’t even know how he landed this hottie?” she continued her gaze to the lady in pink.
“I wonder if someone speaks the same about me?” he blushed.
She smiled. They suddenly realized what they were talking about. Turning towards her he changed the subject.
“So, what were we talking about?”
“Metaphors ! and how I suck at them!”
He smiled, probably at the onset of another metaphor. She smiled back.
“You don’t!!”
“Tell me the difference between ‘sarcasm’ and ‘satire’?”
“They are equally suited to your remarks. Apart from the way we spell them they are more or less the same. What do you think?”
“I don’t think about them. I think about you. Do you think about me?”
“Was it a sarcastic remark?”
“What makes you think so?”
“I don’t think a lot!”
“Why don’t you think about me?”
“Will you kiss me?”
“With these smoker’s lips? No way?”
“If I had not smoked had you kissed me if I had told you so?”
“I don’t know.”
“They are your lips. You should be aware of the judiciousness you need to exercise before placing them anywhere.”
“As if you exercised yours before placing them at the base of a fucking cigarette?”
“I did! And I realized that I was wrong. Now would you exercise yours?”
She gently got up and moved towards the washroom.
“Follow me!”
He did so. The place was empty except for a pair of couples freely chattering away their falling or budding worlds. Apart from that there isn’t much to talk about.
Near the sink she pulled him towards herself by his collar.
“Nice shirt Mister and a foul cigarette!!”
It lasted for only two seconds. When he left her grasp he saw tears in her eyes.
“I miss you. Make everything right. Like old times. For old times’ sake…”
She walked away without saying anymore and he stood there confused as to what to do? Enjoy the fresh kiss or grieve her disappearance. He paid the bill. The coffee was untouched. His lips had savored sweeter pleasures.
He lit another cigarette with some guilt in the darkness outside. He allowed some smoke to collect before his mind melted into the afternoon he had first made her cry.
It was August 2005 then. It had been over four years now. He recalled the events of that afternoon clearly. His hand had brushed hers unintentionally. It had been a delight. He thought again and puffed harder. The smoke made him cough in the darkness. It really was going to be a long night.

de Sade ‘s dilemma

‘Juliette ’ beside I peaceful lie,
Ah! ‘ Lie’ don’t I , and preferably so;
Resonant restrains don’t peace impart,
Then how ‘blissful’ can ‘peaceful’ be??

Ennui strapped thy back decrepit,
Loathing senses! How sense departs?
Thine eyes do tell a tale; Behold!
A touch you wish! How fool of me??
(or is it you?)

Blooming buds does spring bestow,
Some wither away some gleeful glow;
You look dismay’d unmock’d within,
I wander ‘twixt Juliette’s sorrow!!

Brazen blasphemy I profess you say,
Beauty I love; its joy I savor.
Flushed with shame my countenance is,
(To) Be born in place that love devors!!


Disclaimer: The author does not in any form proposes or preaches 'Sadism'. It is but a chain of ideas which is fictitious and is not to be misread as the author's.

P.S.: Words have various meanings.
P.S.: 'Juliette' referred is the book by Marquis de Sade.

Episode 6

…..”Karuna”


He thought for a moment if he did the right thing. But there was no time to contemplate on the judiciousness of the choice. It was time to act impromptu. He tried to recall a lot of things. Scenes from clichéd bollywood flicks, sequences from love stories hitherto unknown to many crossed his mind and he knew almost in an instant what this was all about. Since the day he had understood the chemistry between the sexes he had waited to talk to a girl to win her. Prashant had no clue if he was up to the task but he knew one thing for sure. In the solace of the vacant arts room he would script something unnerving between them. He knew there would be moments more mushy and mellow than this but the beauty of this one moment will remain eternal in its nascence.

“Hmm…??” She turned inquiringly.

And as he looked at her from the distance of around five meters, he felt fearless. Calm. Peaceful.

Prashant was neither worried nor awed by her mysticism today. He was thinking trivial things. The most important agenda on his head right now was if she always wore her hair this way??

And he asked it out aloud.

“Why haven’t you tied your hair in the set of plates as you always do? ”

This was out of the blue. This guy is so reserved and he is so silent and yet he notices the way I comb my hair!! This was irksome. This was odd.

“Ahh!! Well I shampoo-ed my hair today morning. I guess that’s why! ”
“Oww…!!”
“Do you notice ??”

It was a soft sound. The one you can tell from normal dialogue. The one that lets you know “I know what you want to say”. This was nice. Prashant felt comfortable.

Prashant felt the cold of the bench on his butt. From where she was standing she could notice his every move. For some seconds there was an eerie silence.

“So…??” She knew he was too shy to start a proper conversation.

He looked up, scratched his head, adjusted his spectacles, cleared his throat and said
“There’s something I have been wanting to tell you. ” he took some time to gather his voice and continued “This might take some time. Why don’t you sit down ?”

He pointed to two vacant benches in the right corner by the window. As he got up to position himself on the benches his arm brushed hers. It was a momentary touch. Nothing sensuous about it but the lack of purpose made it even more delightful.
This really is going in a purposeful direction. He smiled with innocence.
****************************************

Seated comfortably, he could now see her more appropriately. He felt nervous now. She was staring at him with perpetual enquiring eyes. And he was thinking “Yaar!! Ye nili aankhen marwayengi!!” . he took a moment to realize that this was plagiarism and the punch didn’t fit her eyes either.

“So…??”
He gulped the spit in his mouth and began his first ever proposal.
“Would you be offended if……. I sai..d I find you beautiful??? I mean to say that you won’t hate me if I said I find you attractive..right??”

Lame .Lame.Lame. His inner voice shouted. Something inside shifted. There was uneasiness. This is by far the worst way to open up against your loved one.

Silence. Her eyelids dropped. She looked down on the ground. And she kept looking.

Look up. Look up. For christ’s sake say something . Swear, hit , push, kill, move. C’mon do something . He waited desparately.
But she didn’t!
He followed her move and gazed down on the ground. From the corner of his eye he saw her feet shivering. And before he could react he saw two symmetrical drops glistening in the dreary light from the window, plummet down her golden cheeks down onto the floor.

‘I love her. And she is crying.’

Someone somewhere in this universe smiled and uttered “Ahh!! The miracle of Lava Canyon!!!”


********End of episode***********

Episode 4(The First Big Step)

If you are new to the blog and the story and are wondering about episode 2 and 3..
Follow the link..
Episode 3
Episode 2

Happy Reading!!
*******************************


Walking down the aisle outside the school library, he saw her walking in his direction. When you have hots for some girl, the time taken to cross her when she is coming in your direction is highly critical for your eyes. Human mind is so restless and eyes are always up to show its incompetence at concentrating on the straight path ahead. Prashant wanted to avoid her and also grab her attention. He was thinking of a lot of things…
“Ooh!! Look at me.. Look at me plzzz.. see you have awesome eyes.. Hey wait .. was that a glimpse.. is she tying to say hi?? Man she is going to turn.. no no no wait wait wait.. look look
Yeah she looked.. yeah I am sure she did.. yeah it pretty sure was a glimpse...is she watching me from the corner of her eye..???
Hey is she reading my mind.?? Can girls do that??
Oohh no nono no man I am screwed..
Am screwed am screwed screwed screwed!!!!
I have to change my thoughts right now..
Come on you can do it.. think about Sir Projjwal..naah not him no no
Mom I love you.. I have never told you this but you make awesome tea….
Mom that time I lied to you about the broken window am so sorry ..Please forgive me..
No no no don’t let her know you broke the window…
She can read your mind. Think about it. Is she a ghost??
Ooh she is turning now…. ”
And it was a sad and endless chain.

Somedays later he decided to be a man. Not that he was not a man , but that when he was confronted with her face he usually lost his “man”.

It was august. There was heat in the air and humidity. The bit that can wet your hair enough to make it follow up the line of your forhead which makes girls (quoting Prashant) all the more “desirable”. The first week of August had passed in indecision. To tell or not to tell was the story all over the passing month. There were times when he grew sure of his non-chalance in this matter to the level of giving it up for more noble causes. Yet he clung on to Karuna….
Ooh..!! Only if she could see how my heart bleeds for her..!!
Hark!! Mine eyes cry blood for thy countenance!!
(Please bear with his boring Shakespearean adaptation of his heartly disgusts. Love can do this to you!!)
So, where were we??
August. Yes, august and the first week over. But before I tell you this you are supposed to know some more about the weeks that had passed before. He had decided to confide about his tale in some of his close friends which included Amandeep, Amarjeet , Chandan and many more..(Actually the whole class knew of his on going infatuation). So, there was this guy Amandeep whom he had talked to before confronting his lady-love.
(P.S.:: The following conversation took place on a phone)
“Dude, I just can’t bear this…Its hard to resist”
“What??” (Typical carefree Amandeep)
“Well this subject I told you of…… in the morning recess”(F**ker catch the hint…With mom around the phone most of the time I can’t divulge much)
“Oh!! That girl Karuna?? What about her??..Why use euphimisms???”(You enjoy privacy friend..Whereas I am usually hounded by half a dozen suspicious eyes all the time)
“Aaah….!! If only you could understand!! Anyway.. So I am supposing I should confront the professor about my inability to cope with the subject.”
“Hmm Hmm!! Dude I have to tell you something before you do anything. Whatever you go out to her and say her plzz don’t use such shitty metaphors because you suck at them. BIG TIME!!”
“Thnx Aman, you really help. That was very encouraging. ” he said with grinded teeth
“Haa Haa but make sure you cover up your tracks and make the “professor” understand your “impotence” …. Dude am loving this metaphor game…”
“Ahha you are a gud friend .. very gud friend ” (You son-of-b**** , I will see you tomorrow)
“Are you swearing on the phone.. I can hear it up here.. Well, whatever, have to go out to buy some vegetables. Gud Luck with your “enter-prise” ”
Click.
Over and out.

Now there’s Mom to counter.
“Kya hua ? Having some trouble with your subjects??”
“Nahi.. just the regular.. I will man-age Mom…Don’t worry!!”

He left the room in a hurry.

So, that brings us to the present day. He found himself with a dozen classmates locked in a room on the top floor of his school trying to fisnish work on the class magazine. Amandeep was the highest in the ranks and was probably the chief editor. It was he who had somehow squeezed Prashant in the team and Karuna in the “Art departent”. This way he found himself in closer proximity(yeah.. I get the literal redundancy!!) with her. Today, Amandeep was absent. Remember, the vegetable thing in the telephonic conversation. Yeah he fell down from the bicycle and broke his hand while in the market. Now, how do you do that?? Probably his big head landed on his shoulder. That was the only plausible explanantion Prashant could provide his head with.
Whatever, he was gone and with him gone Prashant was overseeing the Art work and he was handed the articles and color pens when the work was done, for the day. When Karuna was coming towards him he felt restrained from kissing her cheeks. Oh what cheeks. He was trying not to lay his gaze on her and was trying to act “man-ly”. But it was difficult. Sort of impossible. She dropped her share of color pens in his hand and said
“Thank you. bbye”
Now a normal human being must have returned her thanks and it would have all been fine with the world. But he had to put his extra effort and make it stupid. He coughed and cleared his throat and only when she had turned not expecting anything, he said in a firm tone.
“Well the pleasure is all mine and I am happy to be your guest..”(What the f*** , how do you fuck up the only chance to start up a normal conversation with the girl of your dreams??)
She eyed him suspiciously and went towards the door probably half surprised and half shocked.

And when she was about to leave he did something he had never done before.




He called out her name aloud.
“Karuna........”


(……….to be continued)

Their Story (episode 1)

He never knew he would find something this beautiful. It was autumn. Not the “leaves falling everywhere” kind of an autumn , but “just a slight chill in the wind” kind of an autumn. Prashant enjoyed the view from his window. It was the security that he felt in his room behind the books he had to engross his attention into for the forthcoming competitions. He was not lonely. A decent guy with a gist of artistic bent and a notch introvert.

And he saw her somewhere. ‘Where’ is not of importance. He just saw her. You know those things they say about love at first sight. You disbelieve that until you experience some. Karuna was beautiful or so he thought. He never weighed her beauty. He never saw beyond her eyes. They were serene. He always felt they resembled some bollywood actress whose name he could not recall in her vicinity.

********************************

Prashant was getting late for his tuitions. He packed the bag and went out in the lawn running a wild hand and smacking his brother on his forhead. He enjoyed doing this. Not the pain infliction part, but it was the retaliation that he loved the most.
“Whats up jughead?”
Now Prashant’s younger brother was not much of a hit with his academics yet enjoyed the pampering nature of his mother.
“Hey you Blackface, take care of your own studies and stay away from me!”(Ahh!!Spiteful revenge. Got some for the day!)

Prashant cycled fast through the noisy streets of bharatpur to the tuition centre. Pankaj was late as always. He took the seat at the back row before the teacher began spitting some weird content on the beauty of differential equations. See what he hated about maths was not only the equations but also the history behind the under examination equation.

He felt sleepy amidst the constant droning buzz that was filling almost every part of the room.
“And this differential equation was solved under the jurisdiction of Mr.Blah in yeah 1939 when the world war broke out! He was sleeping when he had this dream about the equations arranging themselves in weird set of patterns ………”

“Oh! What the f*** ! Who cares who solved it? And whats so special about this dream. Last night I had a dream about getting laid ! Hope that is symbolic with some f***ing differential equation!”

And he folded his hands on the table and began thinking of Karuna!
“Oh! Karuna……
The love of my life. The fire of my loins….” (Wait a sec! That’s from Lolita!)

Prashant loved dreaming about her. Actually, it was his favorite pastime. See guys, when you are in love or have brought down upon thyself the aforementioned premise you tend to sleep a lot less than you dream. It is one of the rare occasions when you can actually build your own dreams. You see yourself rescuing her from some doomed conspiracy of the universe and find yourself pampering her in some silent corner of the world. She too is returning your favor by rubbing your cheeks and pulling your hair.

“Ohh! I love you so much..!!”
“Hmm.. hmm”
“I wish we could go away to some distant island and live there forever”
Now, you have to understand this. Real love (or in this case alleged love in dreams) is never as clichéd as some bollywood flick.
“Why an island??” she would frown.
“Well….ahh aghh an island is lonely and beautiful and awesome and wonderful ,…..”
See, when you are caught up in a tight situation you tend to use a lot of adjectives….
But she will undo all your effort with one word…
“SO ????”
“Ohh.. Crap…!! This dream is not going the right way.” This is the advantage I was talking about. You can direct your dreams in the way you like.
“Let us start over..”

And once again he would start off with another set of distinct and an equally sucking cliched metaphor for her eyes or lips or….ohh whatever. The point is he would land in the same spot.
Wreckage..!!

Today he was having less drastic dreams about her and he intended to smile in his sleep.
He smiled.
Only to notice a voice echoing through his ears .
“Why are you smiling??... Ohh!! For christ’s sake why are u sleeping??”
Pankaj was amazed at his audacity to sleep in this heat.
“Dude you are sweating like anything!!”
“Ahh its just her love.. Maybe am too full.. You have to know of this dream I was havi….”
And Pankaj cut him short..
“Dude no more of your mellow weird love dreams. I already have enough driving on my tiny ass…”

Prashant smiled. Pankaj did have a tiny ass. Actually he was a tiny guy. He had tiny eyes, tiny fingers, tiny hands and tiny thighs. It was but his accentuated lower lip that was set apart from his whole tiny profile. It stood out like a light-house on a stranded island.
Ahhhh!!! Island!!!!
Prashant smiled intuitively, probably at his own lameness. He was not lame. It was but she who turned him this lame. Meanwhile he got back to the lecture which was sucking sad right from the beginning.
He could not wait to see her again. Probably this time in person!!!
He knew his chances were slim but he was riding his luck. The teacher stopped talking (that was all it was to him!!) soon and they filed and climbed the 17 stairs to reach the surface. Yeah, the room was below the surface but more on that later…..

*********End of episode 1*********

आज रात का अंतिम प्याला

यह विराम की स्थिति नरम हो चली विगत अग्नि ज्वाला,
आज रात बस इतना ही आखिरी मधु अंतिम प्याला,
अपने लालायित अधरों से चूम उठा काली हाला,
मधुवन के सबसे सुरभित कुसुमों से सज्जित ये मधुशाला ||1||

कर रही आज अभिवादन है जाओ अब सूरज निकल रहा,
था झूम रहा कुछ क्षण पहले वो पीने वाला संभल रहा
है जाग रहा है जगा रहा पीनेवालों को यह कहकर
आ गया काल निर्धारित चलें आओ अंतिम प्याला पीकर ||2||

लाल रक्त से दीप्त नेत्र कुछ के ज्यादा पी लेने से,
और लाल कुछ की आँखें है विरह झेलने, रोने से,
फिर भी प्रदीप्त सब नेत्र लिए एक नयी ज्योति कल के हेतु,
एक नयी सुबह एक नयी दिशा में बढ़ें पाँव फल के हेतु ||3||

सारा सुख सब आनंद ह्रदय को बहुत शांति पहुंचाता है ,
और मेघ सम चढ़ता है तब नेत्रों पे छा जाता है,
और बरस पड़ता है फिर वो नर की कोमल आँखों से ,
ज्यों गिरते पंख परम आह्लादित एक मयूर की पांखों से ||4||

कुछ उसी तरह साड़ी रजनी आमोद मनाने पीने से ,
उस पर दिनकर का अकस्मात ले उषा सामने आने से,
मूर्च्छा त्यागी सबने कैसे पीने वाले सब दंग हुए,
क्या हुआ, हुआ कैसे सपने बच गए मध्य में भंग हुए ??5??

यह अंतिम पात्र गरल का है यों इसे नहीं जाने देना,
मत बीच स्वयं के और मधु के तुम कुछ भी आने देना,
पूरा आनंद उठाना रात का अंतिम पहर है बीत चला,
नर की भारी इच्छाओं का विश्वास भुवन को जीत चला ||6||

लो आ गयी सुबह चले सब मतवाले अपनी धुन में,
कुछ यादें लिए रात की, कुछ सपने लेकर कल के मन में,
हैं अरुण नेत्र सबके किन्तु मुख पर श्रान्ति का नाम नहीं,
अधरों पे सबके गीत यही "जय मिले बिना विश्राम नहीं " ||7||



This was composed during the final days of my high school and tries to compare the moods of a school leaving kid with a man who is about to leave the bar where he has spent the entire night being intoxicated.

Autobiography of an Analog Signal

P.S. : The following was done as a part of my electronics assignment during the fourth semester of my Undergraduate program at DA-IICT. It explains the working of a pipelined ADC(analog to digtal converter) using some non-technical support.

I never wanted to be a digital signal. Even the thought of being a digital signal used to send chills down my spine. It is not that I was born so. For once, not all was only “ones” and “zeroes”. I was born a healthy analog signal in a family where the emotional quotient of an analog signal ran quite all through the entire family tree. During those days no digital signal inhabited the planet. All was prim and proper with the earth. We lived one big family of sine, cosine, square waves and various other of our kind walked the face of the earth with no fear whatsoever. Until one day……

**********************************
It still is a hazy memory. They say humans have various emotions and that they can distinguish the variety of fraudulent and inhuman behaviors. That they can experience pain and pleasure. It is amazing. I have heard about humans a lot. But more on that later….

So, now the planet was happily prospering and it was the day when a new signal was born to Mr Sine x and Mrs Cos x. They quite rightly called it “little tan x”. We were having a little party in the compound and I was amazing everyone with my curves and high frequency. Old Marty and his wife stood by the marquee and were sipping lemon tea from a small drinking glass that every old couple in the neighborhood had managed to lay their hands upon and they all looked like the members of one big band drinking from the brightly colored glasses. Old Marty had undergone an amplification last night. It was because of the constant sleepiness he experienced almost all the time. He looked quite active and showed no resilience in expressing his dislike towards the champing and chafing kids.

Just then dad ran in shouting the arrival of some creepy creatures from outer space. See, now we were kids at that time and were quite shocked at seeing creatures which were twice as big as us and were composed of long lines of two different sizes. They looked like a fresh pack of chocolates just brought out and wrapped in the colored robes spelling curses and firing at us with their big guns. They talked in weird noises and called each other with numbers. We froze at site while some ran in the direction they felt suitable. I stood looking at the violence. I saw a big “24” with a gun approaching me and all I remember is a deep blur…….

That was the first time we were exposed to the infamous “binary signals”. We had heard a lot about them. They were insensitive and lacked emotions and were like machines and all that they “thought” ,”wished” and “wanted” was expressed using two digits “0” and “1” and that they were on a spree to convert every signal to the digital format. Surprising huh? They say even humans have become emotionless these days. I wonder at the fate of the place.

So, on it went for some days. Analog signals from various nooks and corners were brought in big and small numbers. None was petitioned a leave. They were bundled up in cold, dark rooms where they wept their hearts out to a uniformed guard “38” who could not but stare at the foolish sensitivities of ours. And so the days went on till one day there was a lot of noise in the concentration compound.

We were allowed light and we looked for the first time at our perennial fate. They were big white plastered machines of various specifications. They had different numbers inscribed on them in bright red font, the one that you get when there is blood spilled all over a clean surface. Some said “1 bit”, “2 bit” and so on. I felt dizzy. Apart from that, we saw an acronym inscribed on all the machines, just above the red font in bright green. It said “A. D. C.” in a clear and crisp tone.

I don’t know if it was the nonchalance of the guards or a very confounded state of ours that took a toll on me and I fainted. When I gained some consciousness, which I think is attributed to the reeking deluge of some chemicals inside the big white A.D.C. ,I was queued up at the edge of a conveyor belt that carried us along a slope to a square plate with almost conspicuously shining neon signs that said “Sample and Hold”.

Further down the line were various triangular metal machines crunching the already engulfed signals and spitting a transformed one of the same. It seemed devastating and I looked inquisitively at what was about to be my future, not knowing when will I see light again and in what form. And, just when I was speculating the further course of action and contemplating about the past, a sudden jerk set me in motion. Falling almost freely on the slope made me vomit. It went along for some time this way and then finally I was stopped at a junction. The aforementioned “Sample and Hold” was the junction. It held me constant for some time as if calculating my weight or something . but that is how I was held for sometime before being once again sent down to another junction.

I finally reached a forked road. I don’t know if you will believe me or not but I saw an exact replica of mine move along one side and myself move the other side. I saw two almost similar constructions ahead facing each other with their backs turned towards each other. I know my credibility about those moments can be considered doubtful but I can vouch for the same. As soon as I entered the first small structure I saw a brilliant flash of light. There were various resistors arranged in a line with a voltage supply maintained at the head of the top resistor.

They were held vertically in the compartment and I could see that there were long wires emerging from the junction of every two resistors and a small funnel at whose node I was installed and along with the emerging nodes , I was passed into the triangular structures called “op-amps”. Now these were hefty circuit elements, and being passed through those should not be seen as some joke. There were various elementary elements inside the “op-amp” including capacitors and resistors. It was like a big miz-maze where a nine year child will get easily lost. But, I held on. I could observe that the “op-amp” was actually giving out outputs in the form of the fearful 0 and 1 based on the difference between the voltage wire from the resistor node and myself. I could not recognize myself when I came out. I was almost like the tormentors who had inflicted the aforementioned pain on our family. I was only recuperating when we were shoved in another compartment that looked similar to the previous one from the outside. Inside there were current elements with various switches controlling their flow.

My body which now looked like a digital signal, was used to control the switches. I felt like giggling, not knowing the future that lay upon me. I had not initially noticed that just before entering the second compartment, another funnel had filtered a replica of mine to the outside of the entire structure. I couldn’t but feel amused at the prospect of being at various places in one time.

Inside the second structure, I was rebuilt to more or less what I still despise to become. Coming out of the second structure I saw my self. Yes, I am not kidding. The replica that had deserted me at the forked junction, joined me only to proceed into another of those hefty and terrifying op-amps. I looked at how I was and what I had almost become. The op-amp’s inner compartment was no more a surprise. I had undergone the anguish already and it was only what new the op-amp had to offer. This one subtracted me from my original replica and it amplified us.

I was exhausted. I don’t know when I fell asleep. I only remember that the cycle that I had mentioned went on for various times and I woke up only after I felt a very bright source of natural light. I was out of the terrifying A.D.C. I reconciled my senses just to be met by my acquaintances, turned into the same form that we had collectively hated since the dawn of the time, “a freaking Digital signal”. And since then have been this way only to fortell the tale of our woe to the living humanity.

They say even humans faced some guy named Hitler who wanted to refine Europe. He killed all the jews. We are lucky. At least, we lived only to see our woe, which we don’t experience. Above all, we, digital signals don’t feel.