Shadow

A series dedicated to all whom I know and how I interpret them, though unsuccessfully.....

We will not give her a name. Because whenever someone asks her, what she prefers being called as, she chooses any name according to her fancy. So you can call her, address her or refer to her by any name, it won't matter. In fact most of the times, it doesn't matter what she do or is trying to do.

Except now and then, she has never-ever played a major role in anyone's life. This is what that always troubled her. Come on…it will bother anyone. Most of the times she was taken for granted. In spite of her countless efforts to win hearts, to be hated and to be admired, she never got any recognition. Roll no. 32, with a nameplate on her shirt, which was pinned on her sweaters in winters, she cannot escape out of it long after school. She was just another student, another worker, another friend and another colleague.

I firmly believe that if she dies tomorrow, it will not make any major difference to anyone. (Of course except her family) Now this includes me as well and I somehow hate to admit that.

It was insane from the start. Her so-called friends were mean, they called her only when it was required - "Hey what's the class tomorrow? Do you have those notes? You know, this guy proposed me!!! I don't know what to do with my mom.".. and so on. And poor she, she was always there. Sometimes as a punching bag, most of the times as a pillow to sob on. What was she trying to find? Perhaps some good company. And more than that, this made her fool herself that she was one among them.

Being the youngest at home, she was a pampered lot but not a spoiled one. The great Indian middle class always leave something to be desired for and that what happened in her case as well. She had everything but what always pinched was she could not have everything that she wants. Perhaps this subdued her desires. And after sometime, the desires, they weaned away.

She always hooked on to the most admired, different people in her circle. Most of the times it so happens that such different people either don't have anyone or they want someone to rally around them and our dear character suited this profile. So most of the times, she was visible with such characters and lost her identity in an attempt to be identified.

About her expeditions with the male species, there is not much to be talked about. Though every girl becomes a fantasy of someone. She had real bad luck. For, she was never able to sustain that. Why? Beyond the physical structure, there were a lot of reasons behind it.

Yet she is hopeful. Whenever I look at her, I pity her and wonder why she knows only Ctrl C, Ctrl X and Ctrl V. There is a new world, where she can be herself but the only problem is - She needs to discover herself, as to be discovered. Till then, like me, she has to live up with unsuccessfulness. The difference, she tries to fight it and I love to be with it.

Candle

Last night there was no electricity. I don’t know but for me darkness means introspection. I hate to do it but I cannot escape. Resigning to my fate, I started speaking to the lonely candle and then slowly but surely, unsuccessfulness dawns -


How come darkness in the room
when a candle burning bright,
Between my heart and mind
this is an ongoing philosophical fight;

Have I become like wires
the nerves suddenly lost their current,
There! A little glow in the dark
at the expense of wax being burnt;

It trickles down her body
and she can feel the pain,
But a strange smile on her face
just watch the glowing flame;

She knows the end is near
as the clock hands dance,
Her bosom swells with tears
as liquefaction enhance;

Orange, blue and yellow
that is all what she posses,
Don’t look at her with pity
there is warmth near those curves;

She starts becoming shorter
and I am petrified,
Don’t leave me, I beg
without you, how will I survive?

Finally I bring her close
try to hold on the last sight,
It seems that she also efforts a fake smile
perhaps an attempt, to sparkle my dark night;

Some moments of glory
or another battle lost?
For the darkness again engulfs me
but she illuminates my thought;

That’s why, my mind and heart
debate over it all night,
How come darkness in the room
when a candle burning bright?
when a candle burning bright…..

Bubble

What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death?


Life is moving at its snail pace, just that I need to pay for the fuel now. Things have certainly changed yet I feel that I am in a time warp. As if I'm living in a bubble, which revolves. I can see the outside world that appears different every time. Some how I forget that I can only see it, I cannot feel it. And when this realisation struck - I feel both sad and happy. Is it hard to define? I think so.



Anyhow, these days I'm watching a lot of movies. The kind of stuff, otherwise I would have never thought about viewing. Don't ask me the names because I watch 2-3 movies simultaneously. I mean I keep flipping between channels. These are some of the movies that I watched
1. Don't remember the name - starring Amish, Esha and Aftab.
2. Don't remember the name - starring Winona Ryder and Adam Sandler
3. Gangster
4. Pelican Brief
5. Chocolate (Hollywood)
6. Tahalka
7. Mere Papa the Great
8. Some old movie, when Dev Anand was really young
9. Mumbai Se Aaya Mera Dost

10. A few movies, where some youngsters realised their dream for once.
11. A movie starring Govinda, Mahima & Raveena (an I thought Mahima never acted with Govinda…huh!
12. Janeesheen


Now one thing I've realised that movies are a lot similar like the bubble I'm in. Come on, how many times, this have happened to you, that the girl you love is your foe's sister, daughter etc. Or the town you live in has some secret that except you everyone knows, or for that matter, your dad always pretends that he is capable of doing everything, or circumstances so become that you marry twice…. I guess, all will agree to the fact that this may not happen normally but is very much possible. You can see it, may be experience it in some form but can't live it.




The other thing I've realised is why momentarily we fall in love with these cine artists (in my case actresses.) Now when I se a pretty face like Winona Ryder weeping or Miss Lohan sulking, my heart goes out for them. And you know what, you start longing for these kind off girls; I mean not necessarily the face but a heart like them.


Also, one movie where I came literally to tears was 'Mein Madhuri Dixit Banna Chahti Hoon'…. I loved the character that Rajpal Yadav played. I found it interesting that the character was totally devoted to that girl and completely hide his identity. Even in the last, once again, he killed his dreams for her or to put it in better words he started living her dream. The place where I felt bad was when that guy, who promised 'Chutki' (played by Antra) to make her a movie star ridiculed Rajpal in front of her and she joined him in doing that.



Last but not the least, I finally visited a doctor and like always my fear come true. Now I'll have to visit him again and may be again. I hate this breed, they talk so comfortingly and with so ease that sometimes you forget that you're sick or suffering with this or that.

But one thing I noticed in the movies, in my bubble and people around, there is one theme common and that brings changes and that is being unsuccessful, perhaps my time is yet to begin till then I have to live with it, either by choice or by force.

For none of us lives to himself alone and none of us dies to himself alone.

Boredom

I am writing this, because I want to write something. As I promised to myself when I wrote Iccha Mrityua that I'll not write anymore stories on love-emotional relationships, so I'm keeping that promise. Anyhow this is not much of a read."

Start-

He was watching cartoons. Nothing wrong with that. These days he watched only news and cartoons. Perfectly all right. Can't call him insane, after all like all other morons he was more interested in what is happening around than what he is going through.

According to Mohit's standard, he was already past the age, when one is called young. But, then and now, he used to forget about it. Watching cartoons was a result of one of such follies. It was around two in the morning, a repeat telecast of 'Tom &Jerry' was going on. He fumed - "What the hell! How can they run short of ideas?" His hands pressed a number and the world changed. But even the news channel disappointed him, he moaned in frustration, "Please, not again." The only control he had over the television and his life was to - Switch it off.

Mohit was living alone. A two-room flat was at his disposal. But, he was in no mood to shatter the piece around him by inviting anyone. "This is my cave and no-one is invited," he declared to himself. Then he tried different positions, sitting on the ground, on the table, lying on the bed, standing near the door and so on.

He always had problems with the loo-door, he always felt that someone would peep in, or someone would push it by mistake, may be the chain will open all by itself. There was no good reason for this fear. Wait a minute, perhaps once his parents' beat him in the loo may be that gave birth to this unfound fear. After shifting here, he used to keep the loo door open, as if inviting - Come on see me, I'm shitting. One day he shouted as well - " I'm shitting and having a smoke, come on, see it."

The clothes were lying all around; he didn't care to arrange them. "Why should I? This is my house, and it will be the way, I like it," he debated with himself. But he was peculiar about the books. He arranged them according to his taste, promising to himself that at least he would read a few pages everyday. But soon like his other attempts, dust gathered over it. Now one can draw a figure over it, using the index finger.


November, announces the onset of winter blatantly. The chill in the morning air returns to haunt at night. Physically he was aware of this, which irate him all the more - "Why the hell, everything has to change?" he argued with himself. The day somehow was lost in the melancholic office but the nights, they were worse. "Nothing to do is the problem," he thought. Then he devised ways -
1. To switch of the lights, throw the keys and then try to find them.
2. Count 30 minutes (he tried counting more but was bored)
3. Brush teeth for 20 mins
4. If you want to watch a particular channel, you've to flip through the rest of them and decide upon two channels more


This was working fine, until one day, without any reason, the cable was disconnected. Like all days, he reached home before midnight, switched on the television and waited to hear animated voices but all there was a blue screen. His fingers frantically pressed all the buttons. The voice of a famous politician from some house confirmed, that only he was denied of this right to entertainment. Like always, the cell phone displayed - NO NETWORK COVERAGE.

The string of bad luck had just started, the tube-light refused to glow, so did the bulb. All of a sudden he was staring at the blue screen. He moved to the next room. Nervously he pressed the switch, this time fate was on his side. The room sparkled to existence.

"Thank God," he sighed. Mohit was afraid of darkness too. He never used to sleep in dark. Perhaps some odd relation with his childhood. He reminded himself the umpteenth time that he had to see a doctor for the pain has increased. He needs to call an electrician and most important ask the cable guy to correct whatever has gone wrong.

Old habits do die-hard; this was the third night when he didn't feel sleepy. But somehow he always found himself curled in that sofa near the bed or the pain in his back, make him realise that he slept on the chair. Sleep was hovering miles away from his eyes. "To sleep is to waste time and I don't have time to waste," but like everything else this was another one of those things on which he never had a control.

Yesterday, Mohit decided to restart an old game. Except himself he will kill anything alive that he see. Since then he has never felt alone. Nor he feels bored. But now there is an another problem, he wants to give all that he has killed a proper funeral but in that two-room flat, where he lives alone, where cartoons will rule for some more time, where he will keep the loo-door open, his black-hole somehow lacks a burial space. "How Unsuccessful!!!"

Q & A

So, finally I'm back to where I started.


1. Are you disappointed? For sure I'm.
2. Will you live with it? Of course, I don't have any alternatives.
3. Do you regret it? Yes, somewhat.
4. Do you feel cheated? Yes, I do.
5. Why? Well majorly because I haven't done anything like this in my life. I mean most of the times I'm sure of what I'm getting into. But I can't blame someone, I mean it's not necessary every one think on the same lines.
6. So, was it your fault? Partially Yes, I must have understood it long before but I was still trying.
7. Any comments? On..Ok…No not at all. I think I believe in - Do No Evil and Say No Evil. So 'No Comments.' Besides, I accept I forgot my rules but then you know how it overtakes you.
8. Will you be able to forget it? In a matter of time, may be. I'm not sure.
9. What are your plans now? Nothing has changed. Yeah, I'll have to do some soul searching but yes, like everyone says - I'll concentrate on work.
8. Any lessons learnt? *Smiles* Yeah surely.
10. What? I am not going to be in anything like it ever after, unless I'm forced.
11. Will you keep writing about 'Delhi'? Nothing has changed in terms of this blog. All I can say is I love this city and still there is a lot to explore.
12. So…..? So what? Please read the name of this blog…