Saturday, February 25, 2017


Time always fascinates me. Time changes constantly. We all know that. We have been told that. In the famous statement “Change is the only constant”, time is the variable. But can we really see that? Think about it. We hardly see time change. All you smarty pants out there, don’t look at your watches immediately! What I meant was that in the hustle and bustle of our lives, we fail to notice all the changes that happen around us. We are subconsciously aware of the changing times but we sort of seamlessly ease in to all these changes that we hardly notice them. Well, I am not being intentionally vague or purposefully confusing here even though you may be cursing me already.

Well, think about it. Time is like the earth or the sun or the millions of heavenly objects. Science has educated us that all these things move. But we have never really seen them do so (unless you are sitting in NASA with a super telescope). Time is like wind. We can feel the change but it eludes our eyes. So years go by and we live life adapting to (and accepting) all the changes that happen around us through the years without really stopping to think and see the extent and magnitude of those changes. And also there is the continuum paradox. Well, don’t worry. This is not a science article. Imagine you keep seeing someone every single day. You wouldn’t notice the subtle changes in their appearance as they are so gradual that they go unnoticed. On the other hand if you are seeing someone say after 5 years you are more likely to see the changes in them.

All right.. all right.. I can see a few polite folks yelling: “So what are you trying to say here?” Well, I will give you the usual answer: Nothing really. If you still want to try and peek into my brain, don’t tell me I didn’t try to warn you. Well, it is one of those random moments where I was just reminiscing the old times and my idle mind started to chronicle all the changes that it has lived through all these years. And it made me part nostalgic and part philosophical. Don’t worry…. Won’t bore you with anything too deep though.

So let us see, what has changed in our lives! Well, for starters, everything! The way of life, the people around you, the landscape, the scenery, the air you breathe, the roads you travel, the food you eat, the things you do and so on and so forth! Nothing has been spared by the winds of time and change.

Be more specific, you say. Okay! In those days, TV was not 24 hours. And it was not 240 channels either. I am sure lot of you would feel nostalgic about Doordarshan. I used to sit watching the Doordarshan symbol spinning and spinning, waiting for programming to begin. Or sometimes there used to be that multi-color bars that covered the TV screen like a rainbow which always fascinated me. And I don’t know if it is just me, but I felt that the programs in those days were better than the ones that air now. But again I digress.

The point is that in those days there were limited numbers of good quality shows (and of different genres) that kept us hooked. I remember waiting for the next Wednesday to watch Byomkesh Bakshi. Sunday mornings were always the most exciting time of the week as we had great shows and cartoons back to back from I think 9 to 12. And those were the only times you could watch these shows. If by chance you miss it, there is no way you can watch it again. There was no re-telecast. There was no internet (probably was inside some genius’ mind). I remember being so bummed when I couldn’t watch a favorite show due to a power cut. I also remember going to a friend who lived a few streets apart (where by some miracle, there was no power cut) and asking him what happened in that day’s episode. I can’t imagine anyone doing these things nowadays. To the next generation, this might even sound outright funny (I can already see Maya making fun of me), but these are bits of nostalgia for me.

There was no Youtube (or multiple music channels) those days and Chitrahaar or Rangoli were the only means for you to catch a new song or reminisce an old classic. And ohhh…. Movies. What can I say? There was so much buzz and anticipation over the release of a new movie. The only way to watch a new movie was in the theater. And we only watched our most favorite actors’ movies (or an absolute classic) in the theater. So it felt like a huge deal. I would always be in countdown mode that whole week. And then there was ice cream, popcorn etc… It felt very special. Nowadays we have the option to watch every other movie in the theater though more often than not, we watch them in our laptops while multitasking a bunch of other things. And a week later, we don’t even remember if we ever watched that movie or not. It is no surprise that I distinctly remember only the movies (the theater I watched them in and several other details) that I watched up until I probably went to college.

Moving on to food. Well, that too has changed a lot. I remember fruit and vegetable vendors making rounds every single morning. I used to love the exercise of going out and picking fresh vegetables. No supermarkets, no genetically modified shiny fruits that look like that they came out of a washing machine, no cutely labelled organic fancy (read expensive) stuff! Just fresh fruits and vegetables right out of neighboring farm lands. And lots of variety too. I know it will be a weird comparison, but if you think about it, even though the number of dishes in restaurants have risen exponentially, the ingredients are actually shrinking. There are vegetables that I no longer see or are very scarce these days. And talk about restaurants and fancy places serving food! Well, I know we have a lot of options these days. But somehow I feel that they just try too much to be different and unique. Don’t get me wrong, they are very good, but I still prefer the older ones which kept it relatively simple but immensely delicious.

Let us switch gears a bit. How about the stark contrast in watching a Bjorn Borg or a Stefan Edberg play to the current crop (barring Federer of course) go on and on in endless marathon rallies like soft skinned cyborgs? How about the fact that in a few years, we could see 1 over cricket matches playing to packed arenas? I can just go on and on but I am sure you don’t want me to. And don’t get me wrong: I am not saying that all this change is bad. By no means! I am just saying that our lives are changing daily at an infinitesimal velocity and ferocity.

And if you think about it, technology is at the forefront of most of the changes that have transpired in our lives. It is what drove us out of the streets and playgrounds into our cellphones and gaming consoles. It is what gave us the option of skipping a get together with friends and to catch up later on Facebook or Whatsapp. It is the one that trumped our urge to catch a movie on the giant screen to watching it on your iPad on the go. It is the one that egged us to tear away from our roots and explore the vast expanses of the earth (and beyond). Well, I guess you get the point here.

There will be a day when we (at least some of us) will be travelling in cars that drive themselves, when robots will clean our dishes and autobots will cook delicacies for us as we watch a movie in our Google glasses while telecommuting to work. And to our delusional mind, all this would seem like life as usual. But to the deep subconscious, if and when it wakes up from a slumber, it would be another of time’s in-numerous illusions that will, like it or not, leave you transformed and transfixed to equal measure. 

Sunday, January 15, 2017

Letters to Maya (III)

As usual I had gone three songs over, putting you to sleep. I knew the exact moment you feel asleep. Your breath had softened and you felt like a feather. And as is the case every single day, I didn’t want to let you go. Not just yet. I decided to entertain you a little more with my melodious voice. I hope your dream was punctuated by a violin symphony. Okay… that is taking it a little too far. Anyways, finally after I had exhausted my list of songs, I reluctantly put you to bed.

Surprise, surprise! You got right back up and extended your arms towards me. Perhaps the bed wasn’t as warm as my shoulder. Instantly I took you back in my arms and started rocking you again, all the while trying to figure out a new song. Damn… I got to add more to my arsenal. Anyways…. I improvised and resorted to humming. You were asleep in a jiffy. I wish you could just sleep in my shoulder all night. I wish to be a kangaroo in my next life. I rocked you some more and then gently transferred you to the crib and immediately covered you with a blanket. You cooed, turned around and continued your sleep.

For a few minutes I was standing there just watching you sleep. It is my little ritual every day. It was a full moon that night. I hadn’t closed the window blinds. The moonlight was piercing the window and was falling on the crib, lighting you up with a shimmer on one side. It was magical. You were snoozing coyly in the gentle moonlight. I wanted to take a picture. A car passed by on the street shining its headlight into your eyes. You turned and covered your face with your right hand. I went and closed the blinds. A moment went un-captured. Well… actually, not really!

I continued to stand there and watch you. You were deep into your sleep. And I, deep in my thoughts! I had had a tiring day at work and had left office thinking I will come home and take a short nap. When I walked into the house, you were there waiting for me as you gave me your cute four teethed smile. You looked at me with your eager eyes and signaled outside. I went and got my tea. You wanted a sip. You copied my sounds as I enjoyed my tea. And then again… you signaled outside. How in the world, will I say no!

Off we went… I took you to your favorite hangout after hitting a few familiar pit stops. You watched your favorite cars zoom by and I watched your eyes light up in excitement. Every time a car went by, you said: “Caaaaa”. Then all of a sudden two cars swept past us at the same time. I looked at you curiously. You thought a little and remained silent. It happened again. Two more cars went by. I looked at you and you said with an innocent smile and feverish enthusiasm: “Caa Caaaaaaa”. I just burst into laughter. You looked at me strangely for a minute and then joined in on the fun. We watched a lot more cars, waved to a few of them and then decided to walk back. By the way, I did notice that you gave special attention to the Audis. Not happening, my girl. Not happening!

We came back inside. I remembered the short nap that I had come home longing for. At that very moment you gave a shout out to me with a ball in hand. I came running to you and we started playing again. You patiently and diligently removed every little toy from your toy basket, dedicated exactly 20 seconds to each toy and then tossed it away. A few minutes later, the basket was empty. You looked at me. I took one toy and put it inside the basket. You followed my lead and started putting them back. I was impressed with myself. You restored all the toys and gave me a curious glance. I realized that my self-praise was short lived. You looked at your work of art, the neatly arranged toy basket. You must have thought: “Something is seriously wrong here.” So you went through the routine again, removing every single toy and spreading them all around the living room.

I looked at the carnage and then gave you a serious glare. You had moved on to other exciting things as you hurled a ball at me with all your might. I picked it up and threw it back at you. You caught it with a splendid dive. You then tried again to throw it back to me. Alas, this time it went back over your head and under the sofa. You tried reaching under the sofa to fetch the ball. It was too far inside. You looked at me and pointing towards the sofa, you shouted: “Baaaaa….”. I tried to reach down under the sofa to get the “baaa….”. It was beyond my reach as well. I brought a stick and nudged at it. It came out at the far end. I went to the other side and came back with the ball, victory smile smeared all over my face, as I offered you the ball.

You looked at it for a moment. Wonder what went on in your head! But you threw the ball away and again pointed under the sofa: “Baaaaaaaaa….”. You must have thought: “Daddy didn’t get the ball from under the sofa. He brought this from elsewhere. He is trying to trick me.” Now I was having the dilemma of my life. How the hell am I going to convince you that this is the same “baaaaaa….”. I remembered Goundamani and Senthil and their famous Banana comedy (Only South Indian movie buffs will get this reference, but you get the point anyways).

I came up with an idea. I slid the ball under the sofa. And then I reached for it and grabbed it and offered you the newly found old ball. You looked at it, seemingly convinced. You were about to start playing with it before curiosity got the better of you. You looked at me, mischief imprinted on her face. Not so fast daddy. You tossed the ball aside and then angrily motioned to the sofa: “Baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa..”. I was running out of ideas. I tried in vain for another ten or fifteen minutes, several new ideas and techniques to convince you that your “baaaa…” was indeed not lost. But nothing worked. Finally you gave up on your incompetent daddy and got distracted with some song that was playing on TV. I thanked my stars as I collapsed on that damn sofa.

That got your attention. You rushed towards the sofa and tried to climb on it. I gave you a hand. You pushed it away and after a few valiant attempts finally made it up. Then you oh so sweetly started patting me on my back trying to put me to sleep. That got me going again. I grabbed you an off we went to play again. We ran inside the house, paying a short visit to each room, exploring every little artifact of interest as your mom also gave us company trying to accomplish the herculean task of feeding you. An hour later, there were two tired souls and an adrenalin baby in the house. You were in no mood to sleep but we decided it was time for you to!  

I looked at the clock. Three hours just flew by. I thought of the short nap I had wanted to take. Now here I was watching you sleep blissfully. I wondered what all I would have missed if I had actually taken that nap. I laughed to myself. I realized that even if I don’t have a single ounce of energy left in my body, the moment you come running into my arms, I forget every pain, worry or trouble and become a child once again. You have given me my second childhood and I will remember this one more than the first!      

Previous Letters:

Tuesday, December 27, 2016


In our lives, we have several relationships, some we are born with, some we forge, some we fall in love with, some we create, some we stumble upon, some we stumble into and so on and so forth. But almost no relationship is perfect and almost never is it unconditional. Don’t get me wrong, it doesn’t have to be. In fact, to be fair, it shouldn’t be. Give and take is the basis for all relationships to thrive. People expect things out of you and you have your own set of expectations that you hope (wishfully perhaps) they will live up to. Be it emotional, material, philosophical, physical, metaphysical, psychological, or something else, we all have our mutual needs and compulsions that we impose or have to live up to. The fact that these expectations are the root cause of strain in relationships is a different matter altogether and I don’t intend to get into that. Bottom line, most of us are not saints, and so we cannot give unconditionally.

But rarely, very rarely do a very select few of us experience a relationship that is purely unconditional. Even one sided, I may say. There are people, yes there are, whose minds are very simple and hearts extra-large. All they care about is you and they don’t care how much you love them back. They don’t broadcast their love for you. They hold it in their eyes and it reverberates into our hearts. They look out for us as we march ahead in this world without looking back. They will be your stepping stones, but they won’t tell you that. They make countless sacrifices but take every effort to mask those from your eyes. They live their lives for us and we owe ours to them. Do we realize that in time? Do we celebrate them? Do we love them back? Do we make them feel special? Do we slow down, sit back and enjoy a few moments with them? Do we make them feel it was all worth it, even though they never doubted it? These are questions each of us has to grapple with our own conscience.

I was insanely lucky to have one such person in my life. I was gifted to have you, dad. You didn’t judge me. You didn’t preach to me. You didn’t question me. You never imposed but always inspired me. You willed me to reach for the skies, yet you didn’t resort to false praises or promises. You took no shortcuts in life and made sure I appreciated that. You expected everything of me but yet nothing from me. You never ignored me. You always adored me. And most of all, you believed in me.

You laughed with me and cried for me. You carried me on your shoulders and you watched life through my eyes. You played with me, prayed for me, listened to every silly little story I had, told me the ones I wanted to hear over and over again, pushed me, held me, carried me literally and emotionally, gave me strength, took my pain, fought for me and did countless other things which will remain forever in my mind, heart and tears. You made my world yours and you were my world. You were everything for me. I don’t know if I believe in God or not. You see, I didn’t have to. I had you. Or rather, I have you.

As a school friend of mine exquisitely put it: “You were a part of every frame in the movie of my life, but you settled in a corner, letting me have the limelight.” A subtle yet surreal statement that put your life and mine in a symphonic perspective.

I have seen you when I was a child. And then I saw you as a child. Both were fascinating experiences in their own respect. I laughed in both and cried in one. I cannot forget either. Happiness gives us comfort while pain gives us strength. You taught me life without ever trying to.

I miss hearing your voice every single day. I miss playing tennis with you. I miss watching you play. I miss those laser precision serves that barely hit the line to the dismay of your opponent. I miss laughing with my mom every time you run aggressively towards the ball and clock it to the net and then curse yourself. I miss yapping pointlessly with you. I miss enjoying your silly fights with autowallas. I miss listening to you talk about random things with your trademark wisdom sprinkled all along. I miss the worldly conversations with you. I also miss the silence between us. I miss watching you sew. I miss watching you make love to that 30 year old Remington typewriter. I miss seeing you undress a coconut in record time. I miss sitting behind you on the scooter, hugging your stomach and whispering in your ear every single thing I see on the streets. I miss you sitting behind me in my bike, your hand gently resting on my shoulder and soaking in the sceneries in silence.  

Every time I think of you, a tear makes its way down my cheek as another waits for its turn. I can’t make my peace with the fact that you have left me. I don’t think I can ever. I can’t fathom that you have gone to a place I can’t find. At least not yet. Sometimes I wonder when I will get there. How will you look like? How will I look like? I imagine all the things that we will have to talk. Lots of things to catch up. Do you miss me? I do. I look up at the sky and smile every day hoping that you are looking. Make sure you do. Take care dad. Until we meet again.

My first memory of your loss

Saturday, November 12, 2016


Time plays such a crucial part in our lives. We are very aware of time. Or at least we think we are. A lot of people (not me though) are very organized. We seem to have things figured out. We know what to do and when. We know our limitations and strengths. We prioritize. We plan our present and future (sometimes even our past) meticulously and march ahead with guns blazing (I hope, not literally) and confidence brimming. Well, we all face hurdles but let us say we get the better of them more often than not and life is good (as much as it can be). Well, I see a few of you scratching your heads and the others wondering if I will ever get to the point (if there is one). For those yawning, may I suggest some coffee?

Before you start speculating, let me point out that this is not a reflection about the purpose of our lives (though that would make some good fodder material). I hear a few sighs (of relief?!) Today something random occurred which triggered a queer thought. Let me explain. These days, as I hold my daughter in my arms and rock her to sleep, it feels like heaven. Even after she is long asleep, I stand there in front of a mirror with her tucked and wrapped around me and watch her sleep like a doll. Slowly and sadly I realize that this is a short term pleasure that I have to cherish and relish as much as I can before time runs out on me. I will not be able to hold her in my arms (or for that matter hold on to her) forever.

Now this got me thinking. This is just one little trick of time (and its partner in crime, life). There are several such instances where we are tricked into a status quo and we never think about the day when we will no longer be able to do, feel or see something that we have enjoyed, experienced or fascinated by for pretty much our entire life.  Now this is what I was referring to earlier. Time is such a con artist. It is a master illusionist. It makes us feel that we are in control and then all of a sudden, in one sweeping action, it brings us crashing down to reality. I see a few of you are looking at your watch. Don’t worry… I won’t take too much of your time. By the way… did you see time smiling back at you (or was it a smirk?)

We are all in different stages of our life. So some of you may relate to this better (even a lot more than I do) and some may be still be young enough to think that I am spitting out hot “garbage” (you are allowed to use the more stylish and cool French pronunciation here). The thing is there will come a time (or rather a moment and a very defining one) in your life when you will realize that you are no longer able to do something that was second nature to you till that point that you had not even thought about a life without that.

No one likes to be told that you cannot do something. Or more so, that you will not be able to do something. That is like the ultimate insult to our ego. So for a long time, we fight as hard as we can to convince others (and ourselves) that we can. We stretch our body and mind to be our 20 year old self as long as we can. We feel indestructible and incomparable. But then we age, not time. And slowly we start feeling vulnerable. So I felt odd when for the first time, my shoulder hurt after bowling for just one hour. My brain had still not come to terms with another shock. The fact that I had transitioned from a fast bowler to a medium pacer. That realization was reserved for another day. I felt frustrated when I was not able to run around the tennis court as I had done just a year ago. I couldn’t believe I was puffing and panting after just 2 sets. Well, had I known on that day, that exactly a year later, I would say time out after 1 set, I might have felt a little better.

I accompany my parents for their doctor visits. So every time one of them went to our eye doctor, he would ask my mom or dad to read a chart that had letters of decreasing sizes. He would then put in lenses of different powers and they would go again. At that time, there was always a small happiness inside me as I would be able to read every line in that chart (down to the microscopic sized alphabets in the last row). Had I known that one day I will not be able to read the last row (or may be even the ones above it), I am sure I would not have had that little inexplicable moment of glee. 

During my school and college days, I used to remember all my friends’ birthdays and their phone numbers by heart. Nowadays I have outsourced that part of my brain to smart phones and social media (boy that sounds cool, but it ain’t).  May be my RAM can’t handle it anymore and my ROM has reached its capacity. Or maybe I should just eat more ladies' fingers. (Relax peeps, I meant the vegetable).

I still remember my first winter in college. Winter in India is not a common thing and for a guy from South India, it is probably unheard of. I studied in BITS Pilani which is in Rajasthan, popular for its desert and heat. But it gets awfully cold during winter. So there I was, standing in the middle of the road (Courtesy a flat tire) on the coldest day in I guess 20 years, with a t-shirt, jeans and slippers. And strangely it felt amazing. I was shivering but wouldn’t have taken a sweater even if one was available. I was loving it. And that crazy ride that followed after is still etched in my memory as an uber cool adventure (I should probably write about that).

Anyways… fast forward now… winter has become an integral part of my life as I am in Chicago now. But I am not that daredevil anymore. I still love to go out and play in the snow but who knows when I will realize that I can’t do that anymore. That day is not too far off. The only difference is that on that day in Rajasthan, I was a young, happy and ignorant boy who just soaked in an adventure, whereas today I relish it with careful abandon. I know that these times won’t last forever either. Which among these two moments is more precious: well that is a real toughie.

I think I have reached a logical stopping point. By that I mean either you have left by now or you are thinking of pouring that hot coffee on my face. My intention was not to bum people out by writing about sad and high handed philosophical compost. So if I made you rue the last 5 minutes of your life, allow me to finish with a happy thought.

We know we cannot beat time. The realization may come sooner or later or never (that would be ideal in some ways). But the thing is you cannot change anything. So live life to the fullest and enjoy these precious moments. Cherish them as if they will never happen again. Treasure them in your mind and play them over and over through your eyes and heart. They will make you forget everything else and experience bliss. Freeze every moment of your life. May be that is the only way to get the better of time.   

Saturday, October 8, 2016


Read Part 1 here

Stephen sipped his cup of tea gingerly as he shifted glances between Ghanshyam and Meera. “I wanted to talk to you about your son Neeraj.”

“I don’t want to talk anything about that devil.” Ghanshyam walked out, his face red in fury.

Meera lowered her head in anguish. “What is there to talk? You probably would have heard everything from the inspector.”

Stephen gave her a blank look. “Not much. He said your son was involved in the riots. I talked to Mustafa and he says you are like family to him. I want to know why Neeraj killed his best friend.”

Tears poured down her cheeks as she buried her face between her hands and continued sobbing copiously. “I don’t know. I don’t understand. I never will. They were inseparable. They didn’t have any other friends. They didn’t need any. They had each other. They played cricket the day before. It was Ilyas’ birthday that week. We all ate biryani at his place. I don’t want to know. Satan’s shadow loomed over all of us that day.”

Stephen looked her straight in the eye. “Mustafa doesn’t know this?”

There was nothing but pain there. “No, the inspector never told anyone. He said it would serve no purpose. Lots of lives were lost that day and lots more shattered beyond repair. He said that was enough damage for one lifetime and more.”

Stephen’s next question stung. “Do you think he might still be alive somewhere?”

But Meera had made her peace as well. “I hope not. For his own sake!”


Stephen looked at Inspector Ravikant in a different light this time. “You are a good man.”

“No one is. Some try. Some fake it. Others don’t know what that means. I live two blocks away from them. Every day I cross their houses on the way to the station. Ilyas and Neeraj will always be playing cricket on the street, day and night. On my way back in the evening, I will play with them for half an hour every day. They were such happy kids. They were full of love. But hate turned to be so much more powerful and vicious. A part of me died that day. It was not death that shook me. It was the abuse of life! It was the brutality and the callousness with which people were killed, abused, raped, burnt, tortured and mangled that day that convinced of the pure evil that is dormant inside all of us. Religion is just one avenue that lets the inner devil out.” Ravikant’s agony made Stephen’s pale in comparison.

 “I think Neeraj is still alive. And I believe you know where he is.” Stephen’s words shook Ravikant.

“I don’t know if Neeraj is still alive or not. But he had always wanted to go away from here, as far as he could go. As far as the road would take him! To the farthest point he could ever reach! Where all the seas merged into one! He had told me that when he could go no more, he would sit and stare at infinity forever.”

Stephen thanked Ravikant who stopped him on his tracks. “Don’t try to find him. For your own sake! What will you get out of it?”

Stephen smiled. “I want to know why!”

Ravikant shook his head. “And then?”

Stephen shrugged his shoulders as he walked out. “You are a good man, Ravikant.” He meant it more than ever.


Stephen knew where he had to go. He had to go on until he could go no more. A place where the land ends and water begins to spread around its wings into eternity! A place where the water meets the horizon to host the sun in all its glory! A place where the three seas merge into one: Kanyakumari! He immediately set off to the southernmost part of India in search of Neeraj. He initially wondered how he was going to look for a boy in a huge town like that. But it wasn’t as difficult as he thought! After all, he knew where to look for. After one month of wandering around, on one glorious evening when the sky was lit up by the sun going to bed and the moon waking up by its side, Stephen finally saw Neeraj in the twilight. He was selling groundnuts in the beach. He followed the unsuspecting boy home.

Neeraj sat on the floor in his small hut whereas Stephen sat on the only chair that looked like it would fall apart any time. The squeaking of the chair was the only sound amidst the grave silence. Even the air in between them was still. No words were spoken. A few glares were exchanged.

Stephen did not take his eye off Neeraj who was intently staring at the floor. His eyes had no fear, no anger, no pain, no remorse! He was happy! There was a stoic calm in his demeanor that infuriated Stephen. How could one be so cold blooded?

When he finally spoke, his words reverberated thunderously across the sand walls. “Looks like you are living quite a life here. Especially after what you did in Deogarh!”

The mention of Deogarh stirred Neeraj a bit. He looked at Stephen for a moment but then turned his gaze away to the door.

Stephen spoke with rage. “Don’t you have any heart? How could there be so much vengeance in such a young mind?”

His wrath had no effect on Neeraj who had fixated his gaze on the door. It was not sure if he was waiting for someone to come and relieve him of the misery or signaling Stephen to leave. Stephen was going nowhere without an answer. “Speak up. Why did you kill the boy who loved you unconditionally? Why did you abandon your parents who adored you? And how can you lead an escapist life like this so peacefully?” He did not get one.

Stephen’s blood was boiling. He had not seen anyone more cruel or inhuman. He was so mad that he did not know what to do. He got up with ferocity and rushed towards Neeraj to confront him when he heard a sound at the door.

“Neeraj….. I am home my friend. Look what I made for you today. Pineapple Kulfi. Your favorite!” 

It was Ilyas. Stephen’s heart stopped for a second.


Ravikant saw a letter lying on his desk. It was from Stephen Dayashankar. He quickly ripped it open with trepidation. He was not ready for what came next.

“Ravi… You will not admit it. But I am sure you have been waiting for my letter every single day. And I have been dying to write you this letter. I found Neeraj. Yes I did. He is in Kanyakumari. But you won’t believe what else I saw. I saw Ilyas. Yes, you read it correct. Ilyas is still alive. He is alive! The two little devils are together. Both of them live in a small hut by the sea. Neeraj sells groundnuts in the beach whereas Ilyas has a small kulfi shop. They sent you their regards. They both are so happy. I had tears in my eyes. There is still humanity left in this world. 

Ilyas, Neeraj, Ghanshyam, Meera and Mustafa have all found the worlds they want to inhabit and the lives they want to live. They have all made their peace with nature and God. I think we have got our closure too. I guess it is good bye from me my friend.” 

Tears rolled down Ravikant’s cheeks as he smiled from the heart after a very long  time.


                                                                                                                   - A SHORT STORY BY RAJ

Thursday, September 29, 2016


“Stephen Dayashankar is a visual artist who has been taking photographs for over fifteen years. He became interested in photography at the age of sixteen upon seeing the works of Robert Capa and has since devoted his life to creating expressive images.” The announcer’s voice barely registered in his mind. “Why do you want to kill me? We were friends yesterday.” A little boy engulfed in terror. A masked face brimming with anger! He closed his eyes. It made no difference!   

The anchor’s words resonated across the audience. “In Stephen’s own words, the language of photography is potent and expanding by the day. Photographs hold infinite power to influence, reform, incite, heal, provoke and cure. The pictures that hold the most power are quite often the ones that are the most devastating.” A sword smeared in warm blood flashed through his mind opening up a wound in his heart.

“Stephen has dedicated his life to mirror people’s lives, echo their sufferings and transmit those emotions to the world. We pruned several hundreds of photographs before selecting his masterpiece for the “Photograph of the Year” award. This picture was not powerful because it was on the front page of newspapers. It is powerful because it is in the minds of the people of this country. Its influence was birthed by the audience and the movement that it spurred.” The voices in his head were getting stronger. “You should not be here Sir. You should leave right now if you want to live.”

“His dramatic capture etched the entire horror of Deogarh into our memory. The small boy running for his life being chased by another young lad clad in saffron will haunt us forever. A blood dripping sword in his hand, his assailant’s masked face conveyed an emotion unlike any other. The small boy’s visage and fate half captured as he runs past a brick wall with the sword inches away from his neck.” The anchor’s chronicle of his photograph sent a shiver down his spine. He could hear a distant wail. A helpless yelp of looming death amidst loud cries of anguish, clanking of swords and disturbing smell of rotten flesh and frozen blood! He closed his ears. It grew louder!

“So without further ado, we present to you the man who inspired us all to rise above communal hatred and work religiously towards bringing down the iron curtain of religion with his poignant photograph: Mr.Stephen Dayashankar.” A headless torso twitched violently trying one last time to hang on to life. Acid smoke engulfed his lungs. A tear droplet made its way out.

 “Sir, could you please come forward to receive your award?” The sea of people in front of him metamorphosed into an ocean of corpses and skeletons. One of them slowly limped towards him with one arm extended.“Mr.Stephen… Are you all right?” 

He walked out of the auditorium with tears running down his cheeks profusely.


Ravikant Pandey sat at his desk sipping his tea lazily and glanced through a case file rather reluctantly. He thought a few inmates would trickle in but did not expect a visitor.
“You don’t seem from around here. I don’t think you have come to the wrong address either. What do you want?”

“My name is Stephen Dayashankar. I am a photojournalist. I believe you were the Inspector in charge when the riots of Deogarh happened.”

The mention of the riots brought a stark change in Ravikant’s expression. “Your face seemed familiar. Now I know why. What do you want now?”

Stephen ignored the generous sarcasm in the Inspector’s voice. “I want to know what happened to a few people who were entangled in the riots.”

“The ones in your photograph?” Ravikant’s voice was stern.

“Yes. Have you seen it?” Stephen offered a copy. The inspector showed it away. 

“Everyone in this country has probably seen your photograph. It is not worth seeing again.”

Stephen was prepared for insults. “Do you know what happened to these kids?”

Ravikant continued perusing his file. “Probably dead!”

The lack of emotion in Ravikant’s voice annoyed Stephen. “Probably? Are you not sure?”

“More than 200 people died that day. I didn’t keep track.”

Stephen was clearly flustered. “Please don’t be so irresponsible and insensitive to human life.”

Ravikant was nonchalant. “If you see as many deaths as I do, you will be worse.”

Stephen was writhing in anger. “I will probably do something to prevent those deaths. Back to my question: Are both of them dead?”

“I can’t say for sure. Several bodies were mangled so badly that they were completely unrecognizable. But as far as I could tell, Ilyas, the boy who was being chased was most likely killed. There was no way he could have escaped. As for the boy who tried and probably killed him, Neeraj, there is a chance he could have fled the town, though I would give it a very low chance.”

Stephen was not impressed. “Can you give me their addresses?”

Ravikant gave him a sharp glare. “You have done enough already. Can you leave them alone?”

Stephen had had enough. “Look here Inspector. If you want to play hard ball, be my guest. I can make one phone call and you will get one the very next minute from your superiors and then you will be forced to give me the address yourself. I don’t want to that yet. And trust me, I am not here officially. I am here for my own sake. Any conversation I will have with their families will stay and die with me.”

Ravikant grudgingly wrote the addresses on a piece of paper and handed it to Stephen who walked out of the police station in a hurry.


Mustafa was a middle aged man in his late forties. He was tall and well built, walked with a slight limp and had a long half white beard. He seemed quite surprised to see a visitor at his door. He ushered Stephen in. No words were spoken for several minutes. Stephen finally decided to break the silence. “I am here to talk about your son.”

Mustafa remained stoic. “What is left to talk?”

Stephen spoke with a heavy heart. “I had seen his eyes just before they disappeared behind that brick wall. He was pale and terrified. Fear and horror had engulfed him. But I also saw a small glimmer of hope in his eyes. I couldn’t understand that. How can one feel hope in such despair? How can one think about life when death is inches away? Those eyes have haunted me for the past six months. I haven’t been able to sleep. He must have been a special boy.”

Mustafa smiled for the first time. “Extremely! I have not seen a happier child in my life. He was happy with everything. He lived life with abandon. He had a small world. He painted it with smiles. May be God wasn’t happy without him and wanted him back to spread joy in heaven. In a way, I am glad I didn’t see his corpse. I have never seen him without a smile on his face and at least it will stay that way. I can spend the rest of my life with the image of his beaming face emblazoned in my heart.”

Stephen dreaded his next question. “Why are you still here?”

Mustafa had made his peace already. “This is my home. This is my world. I have lived here all my life. These are my people. The people I have known for years. I have spent my life’s best days here, shared happiness and sorrow alike with my friends. What happened that day was unlike this place. It was possessed by some evil spirit. Darkness had consumed us that day. The people who killed were not from here. They came from some wicked place, unleashed terror and slipped into the night, leaving us broken and battered. But they still could not divide us. No one will ever. I will die here knowing that there will be more than four people ready to shoulder me to my grave.”

Stephen decided not to rekindle any more painful memories. “Thank you for talking to me. I can’t offer you any solace but you will be in my prayers every day. I need to talk to some more people. Can you tell me where this address is?”

What Mustafa said sent a shiver down Stephen’s spine. “Oh… they are our neighbors. Wonderful people! Ghanshyam and I have been best friends for the last 20 years. Ilyas and Neeraj were inseparable. But life has played a deadly game with them too. They lost Neeraj that day and have never been the same ever again.”

                                                                                                 TO BE CONCLUDED (NEXT WEEK)…. 

Sunday, September 18, 2016


A few months ago, I wrote you my first letter. And dare I warn you: The first of many. It still seems like you came into our world yesterday. But very soon you would have spent a full year lighting up our lives with bliss and excitement. Time just flies by at break neck speed and before we know it you would grow from a tiny little prankster into a cute little monster. You have given us a lot of firsts and very soon they will turn into lasts and there will be a new set of firsts and so on. In this crazy maze of time I don’t want to lose track of all those beautiful firsts (and lasts) that you give us every other day.

The firsts will be precious, the lasts will be agonizing, but several years from now, they all will be precious little bits and pieces that we will have of you to savor. I don’t want to lose those to time. Your mom and I would love to treasure every single moment of your existence but it is not humanly possible. But we will try our level best to lock up as much of you as possible in our brain cells and pen scribbles. 

Putting you to sleep on my shoulders is a bliss that I have grown too used to in the last year. It is something that I look forward to every single day. The way you wrap your arms around my neck, bury your head in my shoulders while your gentle breath tickles my neck thaws my heart. I know you are getting bigger and stronger by the day and soon there will be a time when I can no longer put you to sleep in my arms. I still don’t know how I am going to handle that. We will deal with it when we get there. But for now, I am not letting you out of my arms.

I have grown into such a big fan of your toothless smile that it almost feels weird when I see those little teeth trying to make their way out. I know your smile is going to look as gorgeous as ever, but still it feels like I am going to miss something so precious. It has been a while since I have felt time move in my life. But now you have given me a new meaning for time and its mystique.

Very soon you will take your very first step. Literally! Without our support. With your very own tiny little feet. We will try to hold you, clasp you so that you don’t fall. You will signal us to stop. You will say you have got it. And then off you will go. Exploring our little house two baby steps at a time. And soon enough, before we realize, our legs won’t be fast enough to keep up with you as you set out to explore bigger things. 

Whenever I think of you, the first thought that runs through my mind is that how cool it would be if time stops right now. At this very second! Why do I think that way? Why? I don’t have the answer to that question. Well, then, I don’t have answers to many more questions. Why is it that I cry sometimes when I sing you a lullaby? Why is it that I don’t want to let you off my shoulders long after you are sound asleep? Why is it that I find it idyllic to sit next to you and watch you sleep? Why is it that I find it hard to decide whether to smile or cry when you wake up from your sleep and give me your cutest smile? Why is it that I don’t want you to grow out of that cute little dress? Why is that I find it difficult to replace your toothless smile with your twin bunny tooth giggle even though it is equally gorgeous? Why is it that I don’t want to wipe off the guacamole mustache that you have expertly designed after you have tired your mom off trying to feed you?

Why is it that I want to keep smelling you? Where does that divine scent come from? And how is it that it has already changed 4 times? Why is it that I want to gently bite your silky soft ears every time I see them? Why is it that whenever we go to buy you a dress, we come back with three? Why is it that when I am in office I can’t resist the urge to pick up my phone every half an hour to see a picture of yours? Why is that I melt like a chocolate every time you look at me endearingly with these big eyes and a beaming smile as you jump up and down in excitement? Why is it that I feel I have infinite energy inside me when I am jumping and singing and dancing with you? Why is it that I feel I am a child all over again? So many questions. So many emotions. So many memories. I don’t know but I don’t want to lose any of it. I know I will but I am sure you will replace those with more amazing and exhilarating antics of yours.

I guess I can go on and I sure will. I will keep pouring my heart out into these letters. These will serve as my version of the Hogwarts’ pensieve (remember Albus Dumbeldore’s memory machine) to immortalize and crystallize some of the many beautiful and precious memories of your childhood. I guess you will read them when you read them. And probably you will laugh at some of the silliness in those letters like any adult would. But I hope somewhere in the back of your mind, the child in you would vaguely remember your miniature version of the great times we had and giggle gleefully (the toothless version). And then when you look at your old man, you will realize how much he has loved you!

Sunday, September 11, 2016


A couple of aliens wanted to explore the outer space and somehow landed on Earth. Since we have so much to offer, the aliens had a tough time deciding which place on earth they should visit first. Check out what they decided!

Wednesday, August 24, 2016


His head was splitting. It seemed like every nerve was revolting, ready to explode any minute. His heart had lost its mirth long ago, but today it seems to have given up its spirit. His purpose in doubt; his existence questioned. He felt pain no more. He had had enough of it. Numbness had engulfed his veins. He felt like a slaughter sacrifice waiting his turn at the altar. Only a little too desperately. He looked at his friend who was sitting right in front of him. What has life done to us, he thought?

We were so happy, vivacious, lived life by the minute and enjoyed every second of it. We felt invincible. We fought in the mud, got drenched in the rain, sang out of tune, danced like nobody was watching, screamed at the top of our lungs. We sat for hours staring at nothing, talked for hours about nothing. We went on a long drive to nowhere, ate and drank everything we could get our hands on, fished in the pond for hours only to get a shoe for a prized catch, fished for a few more hours in search of its pair without luck, roamed the streets in the night with carefree abandon, spent the very last ounce of energy in our bodies and came back to crash into our beds as if never to wake up again. And then we woke up the next day fresh and ready for another adventure.

And so life rolled on amidst chaos, excitement, fervor and charm. Day after day went by chasing nothing and enjoying everything. I wish I had never woken up after one of those days. But I did. And here I am. A changed man. A deflated man. A lost man. A man no more.

His thoughts brought him back to reality. He looked at his friend again who smiled casually. There was the same innocence and zeal that he had seen years ago. How could that be possible? When did we part ways? How does he not have any of life’s scars? Why has God been so kind to him? Or maybe was he too cruel to me? Is he even there? His blood started boiling even more. His friend still had his smile as he looked at him with even eyes. That made him even more livid.

“What is it that makes you so happy? Seeing me like this. Helpless, hapless and hopeless. Seems like life has been very kind to you my friend. If you had been me, then probably you wouldn’t even be here. Do you know how much I have endured? Do you know how it feels when your wing is ripped apart? Feather by feather. Do you know what it does to your self-esteem? Have you felt scrutiny? Have you experienced love? Do you know how it feels to yearn for affection and not receive any? Have you experienced failure? Do you know how it is to fail in the eyes of your friends? Your family? Your foes? And the coup de grace! Do you how excruciating it is to finally fail in your own eyes? The final fall!  

Have you ever thought how would after life be? Would it be more peaceful? It certainly sounds more mysterious. Do heaven and hell exist? Wonder where I would go. Will I be transported through space to get there? It would be cool to see some planets on the way. And be it hell or heaven that I reach, I probably will be better off than I am now. I wouldn’t have to work consistently to satisfy others. I won’t be judged. I would already have been judged. I can be myself. I won’t be a disappointment to the people I know as they won’t be there. Well at least I hope so.

Yes, I have considered death. I have no shame in admitting it. You may think I am a coward. Well heck, maybe I am. Isn’t it easier to just press the shutdown button? We can restart in a new life if there is something like that or be lost into obscurity. Isn’t that an interesting prospect? To myself and to the people who are tired of me? May be. But I can’t muster courage for that either. Will someone miss me? Am I disappointing them again? For one last time. Do I owe them to live? Do I owe myself a death? I can’t seem to decide. Like every other decision, I put this one off too.

Why don’t you say something? Are you deaf? That would be so cool actually. But I know you can hear me. The smirk on your lips tells me you are enjoying this. You think you are safe inside that mirror. You think it is cool to see me make a fool of myself in front of you. In front you, of all people? While you stand there majestically reminding me again and again of my glorified past!  

He looked at the man in front of him who was so calm and composed, so carefree and happy, so blissful and na├»ve, so simple and kind, so full of life and love. This was a man he once knew. This was a man he once loved. This was a man he once was. He wondered how long it had been since he left him inside the mirror. He couldn’t remember. That was the man he still wanted to be. Everyday! Or even just for one day! A wry smile came to his lips. He laughed it up. Life indeed does strange things to you.

Tuesday, August 16, 2016


A few months ago, I had promised to come back with more fun stories about our cute little monster. Well, she has been keeping us busy and extremely happy with all her antics and there has never been a dull moment. That had kept me from penning my daddy tales for a while. But they are way too special not to capture and freeze in time and so here I am back with some more cute excerpts from the Maya diaries. Well, having said that, I actually wrote this a while back but I guess not much has changed.

For starters, our little one is not very much into drinking her milk (she is very interested in tea though). Well then, that is not really a surprise as I guess lot of kids don’t. She can yell and shake and move for hours and not get tired. You give her milk and she will start her fake cry. And then you take the bottle out, she will give you her cute smile. The little rascal! The only way to feed her is to pin her down like a chicken and arrest her arms and legs and keep the bottle in her mouth, let her complete her fuss routine and then she will start drinking. But thankfully we have a Plan B. We put her to sleep first and then feed her. We tag team this in a quick two step routine. One of us puts her to sleep while the other is ready with the feeding bottle and a pillow. If you have ever watched Formula One racing, this will remind you of a pit stop wherein the driver drives in at the perfect speed, bringing the car to a screeching halt and the pit crew expertly changes the tires and refuels at break neck speed. 

We all know that infants like putting things in their mouth or licking anything that they can get their hands and tongue on. This one is no different. No object, animate or inanimate, living or otherwise, is exempt from the lick test. But this one gets very creative at that. She is one picky licker I say. She tries to compare the tastes of the things she has licked. For example, the other day she was busy licking her finger. Or rather fingers I should say as her whole hand was pretty much insider her mouth. As I was lying by her side, she noticed that I have fingers too. That got her excited. She grabbed my hand and started scanning my fingers. She took a while to pick her favorite. Index finger it was. She then slowly pulled it towards her mouth and started licking it. You should see her expression change. She was a bit confused I guess. Do I like it or not? Hmm… I have an idea, she thought. So with my finger still in her mouth, she inserted one of her fingers into the mouth. Parallel testing went on for a few seconds and then the verdict was out. She pushed my hand out and continued sucking her finger, until I finally pulled it out. She gave a short glare but then started searching for her next target.

Now interestingly, she has developed a special liking for my nose though. If that is available, she never misses a chance to have a bite. The other day she tried licking my nose but I guess it was a little out of grasp. But she is never one to give up. So she reached out and grabbed both my ears with her hands and pulled me close to her face and then started licking it. I loved it so much that I let her do that for a little bit before I gently pulled away. She gave me a shy smile. I guess that meant “yummy”. She is one hell of a prankster I tell you.

The little one is Miss Curiosity. She takes note of every single little detail around her. It is very easy to take care of her as she hardly fusses. We take her around to every room in the house and she spends about 20 minutes observing everything carefully. Once she is done with the room, she will give a little grunt which is a go ahead for us to move on to the next attraction. And she has her favorites as well. There is a world map in the living room that she just loves. We can stand there for hours and she would still keep staring at it in rapt attention. Oh yeah… Madam loves watching herself. Be it the mirror or the calendar with her pictures galore, she keeps looking on without batting an eyelid.
Recently she has taken to music. We listen to a lot of songs and she has been a victim of passive singing as well. So tired of all this, occasionally she goes into concert mode herself. I must say she maintains a fairly good rhythm (a aa.. a aa aaa… aa aaa.. aa aaa aaa a..). And boy… can she reach high pitch or what! Her decibel levels are frankly unbelievable and off the charts. And she does some hand gesturing to go along with that as well. Now once I got very excited and started singing along, not at her level of finesse but whatever I could muster (aa aa.. a aaa aa aaa aaaa aa..). Madam was not impressed. Smart ass she is… She takes her left hand and puts it on my mouth and then continues with her singing. Message delivered, I guess. I must say she is a little more considerate when she is about to sleep. She lets me sing along then as I rock her.

And if she is not singing, she likes to hear me sing. Or at least that is what I like to believe. Until she starts speaking and breaks my bubble. And no prizes for guessing, I am a very bad singer. I have a selection of five songs which I sing regularly as I walk around rocking her and often times she is probably asleep by the time I reach the fourth song. But of late, she has started listening more and I have to expand my repertoire. But the good thing is there is one song (which by the way is my all-time favorite) that she just loves and it manages to put her to sleep eight out of ten times. I know what you are thinking…. Why not sing that first? Well, unfortunately it doesn’t work that way. So, the only thing I have to make sure is to never let my wife sing that song to Maya. Then she would come to know how bad I really am and I don’t want that to happen, just yet.

But it is while sleeping she gives us some of the best moments. Putting her to sleep itself is great fun. The moment I put her on my shoulders, she herself adjusts into a comfortable position and then does the cutest thing. She puts her arms around my neck in a cute puppy hug. This was one such occasion where I had just rocked her to sleep and then sat down in the sofa with her sleeping in my lap. She had kept her hands on my cheek, so softly with so much of love. Now as she was asleep, her hand was slowly slipping down. It made its way to my chin. Then it was slowly about to drop down. How could I let that happen? As her finger tips disconnected, I gradually lowered my chin. Now my chin was touching her hand again. Her hand was almost near her cute little tummy and my neck was almost at a 90 degrees. But her hand was still on my cheek and that was all I cared about. There was a sound. She stirred and my heart skipped a beat. I quickly wrapped my arm around her head to comfort her. My ear was near her heart and my hand was on her head. It was almost as if I could hear 2 beats: her heart and her brain. Another bang. This time I was sure she was going to wake up and cry. She just shifted a little bit and wrapped her arms around my arm and deposited her face into my bicep and continued sleeping. And that gentle smile when she sleeps…. Ah… that is something to die for.

Well, I guess I can go on. But I will stop for now to be back later. She is filling our lives with countless cute and memorable moments every single day. Every such moment is worth cherishing and reliving over and over again. And these memoirs will instantly transport me back in time and I can watch poetry unfold once again in front of my eyes. Sometimes we wish she never grows up. We think what if she stays this tiny little bouquet that we could keep wrapped in the warmth of our arms. But then… life writes its own script, doesn’t it? 

Tuesday, August 2, 2016


Death, I believe is the ultimate mystery. Life is known, at least for the most part. Death is not, again for the most part. Probably we can feel every other emotion that is out there to be felt. But death lurks in the dark. It is just around the corner all our lives, but we don’t live to see it. Yet it embraces each and every one of us eventually. When it decides to, depends on our luck or the lack of it. But even though we mostly don’t see our death coming or prefer not to think about it, we experience death more than we realize. What we understand from it will differ and will shape our eventual tryst with it.

As I sit there watching you sleep as peacefully as ever, I feel numb. I have lost a sense of time or place. I know I am going somewhere but I don’t feel myself moving. I don’t feel the sun scorching my skin. I have lost every other sense but sight. I see you in front of me, sleeping with a gentle smile across your lips just like any other day. But something is different. Today is not every other day. Although I want it to be more than ever. I don’t recognize the streets I have driven by for the last 35 years. I don’t realize how much time we were there together in that van, seeing each other like it was the first time we set eyes on each other. I don’t remember our first encounter. And you wouldn’t remember our last.

I have never seen you cry. You have never seen me cry. Not for long I guess. I see my entire childhood flash in front of my eyes and the only thing that is constant in every frame is you. I sit there in vacuum as a single tear is resisting gravity in a last ditch attempt to prevent my defeat. All through my life, you have let me win every game we have played. I guess it is about time I lost. The tear agrees.

The lone tear slowly makes its way down my cheek as I sit there still in disbelief. There is a storm of despair stirring inside me as I try hard and resist every single tear it produces. Don’t they say one should cry his heart out? I don’t want to. Every tear is a memory. Your memory. I want to keep it inside me forever. This storm is never going to die. The tears are never going to stop. But I know I will never let you go.

The van stops. I see people around me. Nothing registers. They take you away from me momentarily. I hear voices in my head. I meander in a trance as I find you on a wooden bed. You seem comfortable. I am told to say and do things. I comply mechanically. The thought that I might not see your face again makes its way into my head for the first time. I shudder. I close my eyes. I see your face. It doesn’t exactly look like how you are now. It is not the very first one that I remember as a child either. It is a unique mixture of your face that I grew up watching and adoring all these years. It is your face just for me. I fear no more.

Several years ago, I lost something. My loss was painful, at first. I then got used to it pretty soon. I could never forget it, but I learnt to live with it. Or rather without it. But it took me several years to realize what that did to you. I have always known you to be such a tough guy that I didn’t imagine the extent my loss would affect you. You never told me. But one day I saw it in your eyes. I saw a different man. A man whom you managed to hide well from me. A man more endearing than you already were.  

 Fire and smoke engulf me. Your thought alone consumes me. I come back the next day. You are still there. Well, in pieces. They say you burned all night. I am asked to collect your bones. I want to keep one. I am told not to. Well, I don’t have to worry as you are in my bones. I put your remains in a copper pot and bathe you in milk. I am supposed to give you to Mother Nature. I am not ready to let you go. I reluctantly go to the sea and am about to open the pot when all of a sudden a giant wave comes roaring as she grabs you away from me in a flash. I stand there transfixed having lost your last physical remains. Looks like nature was so eager to have you amidst her. I am sure you will love her company. But I hope you will miss me occasionally and step out from wherever you are to see what I am up to. I will look out for you.  

I come back home. I look into the mirror. I see you. I reminisce of all that has transpired. It was a strange day. You wore my shirt. I wore your dhoti. I burned with you. And you will live with me. Forever!

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...