Touché

He looked lovingly at his creation. A pair of eyes and ears, nose, lips, mouth, cheeks, forehead and chin on the face, neck, torso, a pair of hands and legs, hair ... He had paid attention to every minute detail. Prior to this, all His creations were His experiments. And he had made many. Some lived on land, some in the oceans and a chosen few on both. He had made the finishing touches to his latest creation when He remembered His own rule – “Every species shall mate with its own and never with another species”. So He made another version of his creation and now He had both – a male and a female of His latest creation. The human species.

The archangels all looked at the creation in awe and chorused, “Awesome!”

One of them gleefully said, “Just imagine, once this species starts breeding there will be so many of these awesome creatures everywhere on earth!”

God sighed. He shook his head and said “Perfection is boring. And if the offspring bears resemblance to its parents there shall be much unwanted confusion and chaos. Why, the species might even lose interest in breeding if it sees the same of the opposite kind everywhere, eventually leading to its extinction.”

The archangels chorused “How true!”

God sighed. He then started tweaking the template and though the base format remained the same, He started making alterations as to the colour of the skin, hair and eyes, the height. It took Him quite a few days but He eventually came up with varied editions of His latest creation. He lined them up proudly for the archangels to marvel.

The archangels chorused “Marvellous!”

God sighed. The physical attributes were all multifarious but what of the behavioural attributes? With His divine powers He instilled varying degrees of the seven virtues and vices in the various editions of his creation. So now, not only did they differ according to colour, height and physicality but also in kindness, cruelty, brevity, cowardice, prudence, greed, intelligence, foolishness, magnanimity, miserliness, honesty, deceitfulness, etc. He lined them up proudly.

The archangels chorused, “Magnificent!”

God finally heaved a sigh of relief. He instructed his archangels to descend on earth and position the different editions of his creations in different parts of the world. He would then induce life in them and they will then sustain and reproduce their own kind. Soon the earth will have a variety of his most proud creation – the human.

Many centuries later the humans formed a variety of Gods. Touché!

Why so?

Why can’t people just stay? Why do they have to leave? One by one, losing people from my life. If I put my finger on someone and wish for them to stay with me forever, destiny deliberately removes them from my life. Situations in life, marriage, career and worst of all death. An excuse is sought and they are made to leave. Standing on a firm ground with them and when they walk away the ground around turns into quicksand. A quicksand of depression. Can’t move ahead and remain stuck. Till a person comes, holds the hand and leads out of that place. But then, eventually that person too leaves. And you are left again in the same situation. I now no longer wish to hold anyone’s hand anymore as I know the one who holds mine today, will leave it tomorrow. 

Why does it happen that people go away from our lives? Why do they even come into our lives if they have to leave? Why is their company temporary? Why does every effort to make them stay drive them even further away? 

Why is my life just a temporary shelter and not someone’s home to stay forever?

Trees!

I loved trees.

That age ... when you see only roses and not the underlying thorns, when you see the sunshine and not the shadows that fall because of it, when everything seems beautiful and you believe that with effort and will you can achieve what you set your mind on. Yes, it was at that age that I saw the lush green tree. It was a tall strong tree with wide branches and under its shade sat a girl. She was busy writing something. The tree belonged to her. The fruits, the shade, the cool breeze that blew under it, the protection ... all belonged to her. She watered it with love and swept the place around the tree clean. She had even kept a bowl of water hanging on the branch of the tree so that birds could come and quench their thirst. She loved the tree and the tree loved her.

Wouldn’t it be really nice if I had a tree of my own too? Yes, I wished for a tree for myself. I saw one from far away. It looked good. Looked good. I walked towards it and claimed it to be mine. Initially the shade of the tree seemed very comforting. Seemed. I was prepared to adjust to any shortcomings that the tree might have had. But the tree sensed that. There was no cool breeze under it. It didn’t bear any fruits. What was worse was that the trunk was infested with ants. I couldn’t even rest under it or lean my back and sit. I started getting weary. And then that night of the heavy storm ... It thundered, it rained and I stood under the tree, shivering and wet. The tree couldn’t protect me. That night put a hundred questions in my head and slowly I started walking away from the tree. There was nothing that now attached or bound me to the tree. I yearned for shade, for protection, for care. The tree couldn’t give any. I walked  away ...

I now stood amidst a jungle. Full of trees. Full of variety of trees. I looked again for a tree that I could claim. I saw a big strong tree. Once bitten, twice shy. I checked the trunk for ants. There were none. I smiled and leant on it. The shade it offered from the harsh sunlight was tempting. I slept under it peacefully. And a snake slithered down from the branches. I woke up to see the snake staring at me. I don’t think it wanted to hurt me immediately but it frightened me all the same. I was wondering as to how to get rid of it when one by one many other snakes started coming down from the branches. I realised the tree belonged to them and not to me. I walked away ...

Deep into the jungle ... I kept walking till I came across a beautiful tree. I took a broken branch of a tree and hit the branches of the tree. Any snake that clung on might make itself visible and I would know whether to sit under the tree or not. None. I heaved a sigh of relief and sat under the tree, enjoying the canopy-like shade of it. Finally. Or not so. At night, I woke up with a stinging sensation all over my body. There were red ants all over my body. I looked for the place where they came from ... a hole under the tree. I quickly dusted off the ants from my body, sore with pain and itching all over. I walked away ...

And now I keep walking. I don’t like trees anymore. The trees stifle me, tease me, mock me and much worse, hurt me. It isn’t that all the trees are bad, maybe a good tree simply isn’t in my destiny. I am much too sore, too tired, too disheartened, too weary, too disillusioned, too exhausted. It takes an enormous lot out of me to trust the goodness of a tree and each time I do so I am left hurting. I don’t have it in me anymore to seek a good tree. I want to run away from this jungle ... out to the open land. To the desert. Or the sea. They don’t pretend to offer comfort. They are barren and desolate. But at least they don’t pretend. I don’t have any expectations from them and I know I will have to look out for myself. No false promises from the desert or the sea.

I hate trees. 

Care no more!

Few more minutes and I shall reach home, safe and dry. Rains in Mumbai were lovingly treacherous. Abounding downpours that turned roads and railway tracks into rivers. I checked my mobile again for Prashant’s reply. None. It had been two days now since he had last replied it the group. Our group of friends which had come together on a social media site and while the initial common uniting factor was literature, being humans, everyone had started sharing their personal life events with the group too. From strangers we had turned into a group of close friends. We looked out for each other, like friends do. We cared for each other, like friends do. We knew each other only virtually, but did what friends do.

And I reflected back to the journey I had made so far. The past year had been tragically eventful for me. Loss of two closed ones in a short time within had left me lost in grief. I couldn’t simply find my way out. I had lost my grand-aunt who was an old neighbour in my native village. She loved and cared for children and there were hardly any people my age who hadn’t been told stories by her or played in her house courtyard. But unfortunately, as much maternal love she had to give, she didn’t have any children of her own. Her old age was lonely and spent in solitude. The ones that she brought up as her own left her, left the village for brighter career opportunities ahead. It hurt me to see her like this and once in a month I would go down to the village to meet her. Her joy can’t be put down in words here. Last year, she passed away, leaving behind a grieving me. And then, destiny realised I hadn’t had it enough. Shortly, my mother too passed away. Mother? She was my teacher, my guide, my friend, my mentor. The only person in the world who could read my heart and my mind. My mother was my world. With her death, I felt as if I was stripped of my shelter in this world. Love you always mom, always.

It was during this time of grieving that I had met these friends. Having been through a phase in life where no cared how I was, a time when I was away from my mother and family ... I could always sense if things weren’t right with any of the friends. To ask someone “is everything ok?” often means a lot to the person, especially the people who can’t easily open themselves out to others. You have to gently knock their hearts with that question and they will open the door to their worries or problems. And this is why I was messaging Prashant. He had been absent from the group for two days now.

I reached home and made a nice hot cup of tea for myself when Prashant called.

“Hey. Where are you? Everything ok?”

“Sheetal, how many times have you messaged me?”

I recollected and said “I think around 10 times. But then you didn’t answer so I was worried.”

“Did it ever cross your mind that I didn’t reply because I didn’t want to reply?”

“Prashant!” My mouth went dry. “Prashant, if you had only once replied you are busy I wouldn’t have kept messaging you. I messaged you because I was concerned.”

“Yes, and it is exactly this concern that is stifling me. Suffocating me. I want space but no, I can’t have it because Sheetal madam simply won’t leave me alone!”

“Prashant, I had no idea ...” I didn’t know what else to say.

“Look, if you are concerned for me then leave me alone. Don’t ever call me or message me. I am not a small child.” Saying so, he disconnected the call.

I sat down. Numb. ‘Did it ever cross your mind that I didn’t reply because I didn’t want to reply?’, ‘and it is exactly this concern that is stifling me’, ‘if you are concerned for me then leave me alone’ ... Does care stifle? Does it suffocate? Asking someone their whereabouts or enquiring about their health ... Is it that bad? The past played itself in my mind ... Coming home, alone and hungry, no one to ask if I had eaten or how had my day been. Being ill and no one that asked if I was ok, never mind tending. Being caught in emotional crossroads and no one to ask for advice from. Yes it had made me stronger but I now valued care and concern a lot. The time I spent away from my family and mother had taught me a lot indeed. And now, mother was no more. Family had moved away to different cities. I had felt helpless. Till I came across these people and slowly learnt to stand up on my own emotionally. Or maybe not?

It had been three hours since Prashant’s call. I had lost my appetite. The tea had gone cold. Like me. The mobile beeped a message tone. Prashant had messaged. “I am sorry. I know you were only looking out for me. I was really stuck and I simply vented out my anger on you. I’ll be back by tomorrow. Good night.”

Sorry. Yes of course, an apology. I was a softball, forgave easily. A sitting target for people to release their displeasure on. I opened the app on my phone, blocked all the friends in the group ... Aashi, Rajkumari, Abhi, Vishal, Alka, Priya, Sanjay, Prashant ...

After all it made perfect sense, didn’t it? ‘If you are concerned for me then leave me alone’ ... So I left them all alone.

Me and My Muse

Me :  Where were you? I have been waiting for you for so long!

Muse : How many times have I told you not to wait?

Me : I don’t wait for anyone, except you.

Muse : Why?

Me :  Why?! Maybe because I am stupid. Maybe because I am foolish and I have lost my mind.  There! Happy?

Muse : Well, then don’t be so.

Me : At times we really cannot choose what we want to be. We are as we are.

Muse : Yes but try not to be.

Me : Teach me.

Muse : You have to create your own distractions.

Me : Distractions? Oh they abound! And then do you know what happens? Amidst those distractions the thoughts keep creeping up ... The thoughts of the very person because of whom I created those distractions.

Muse : Exactly! It is just a thought then. Not something you should wait for.

Me : You know what? You are like the moon to me. I am in awe of your brilliance, I cherish your beauty and your soothing presence inspires the poetess within me. I know there are many others like me who bask in your moonlight but that is hardly of any cognizance to me. It is when you wane away ... when I don’t see you that I feel lost. Suddenly I am left with paper and pen but my words all vanish. Till I see you again. And then the thoughts start blooming again. They give fragrance to my words.  All that I ask of you is your presence. Because without you my poetry, my words, my thoughts all dry up. The moon can never love back all those who love it. So I ask of you not for your love but for your presence, for your moonlight. And so, for your presence, I wait. 

“It’s ok if you don’t understand me. I wouldn’t even try if I were you. Please just be with me”.

Care, always.

“Can you please come to my home quickly! Dadi isn’t feeling well and I am worried”. That is how it all had started. Amar’s message. Over a year back. We both had met two years ago at a gym. Through casual chatting, we knew that we were neighbours. He lived in the block next to mine. Amar was a student of business management. He had been living in the city for three years now. His father had his textile firm in his hometown. Instead of letting him live in a hostel, Amar’s parents decided that it would be best if he lived in a rented flat. After a few weeks Amar’s grandma too came to live with him so as to cook and care for him.

Amar’s grandma – the sweetest, wisest woman I had ever met. Having lost my grandparents in very early childhood, I was deprived of that pampering and care that comes from our senile elders. She would often cook my favourite dishes and would either invite me or over or have them sent over. She was of good health generally except for old age problems. She was a diabetic patient and since my father was one too, I used to keep inquiring about her diet. I often persuaded her to go for a walk in the evening and at times even accompanied her on those walks. Amar’s message that day scared me. I had lost my parents. The thought of losing a close elder one ... I rushed to his flat. Amar had already called an ambulance. I quickly made a sugar and lemon concoction and administered it to her. She had probably fainted due to drastic low sugar levels. The ambulance came, took her away and I also went to the hospital. For three days and four nights Amar and I took turns in sitting beside her at the hospital. His parents came from town and stayed for a week. After she was discharged, Amar’s parents went back. She refused to go with them as she was worried about Amar. I then convinced them that I will look after her. And I did. It was a very small price to pay for the love and affection that I received from her. She would just have to look at me to know something was not right with me.

Post her stay in hospital, she had become weaker. Her medical test results were also worrying. I suggested she go back to her hometown. To which she said “I can’t choose the manner or time of my death. Let me dare and choose the place.” And then one hot May evening, she passed away. In her sleep. Perhaps the most peaceful way to go. But the mental agony of never being able to her voice, to see her, to feel her hand upon my head ... That had put my peace in turmoil. I had cared for her like I did for my mother and she loved me as if I was her daughter. Constantly calling and checking up on her and dropping in to see her ... And now she had gone. Her cremation and death rituals were performed by Amar and his father. And then twenty days later, her lawyer called me and asked me to be present at the reading of her will. Not thinking much of it except something that she would have wanted me to do. It was, to put it mildly, shocking. Amar’s grandma had bequeathed me eight lakh rupees. She had mentioned her ancestral riches to me. Three houses, lot of gold, some land. But I had never given much thought to it. And today, this “gift” was unexpected. After the meeting was over I decided to take leave. A few days later I received a letter from Amar’s father’s lawyer. He had challenged the will and claimed I was bequeathed the amount when grandma wasn’t in sound health and also that I may have taken advantage of the proximity and attachment to her and persuaded her to do so. I was aghast! I went to Amar’s flat and showed it to him. The claim letter wasn’t as shocking as his response.

“It was very mean of you to do this”.

“Amar, are you out of your mind? Do you even realise what are you saying? I cared because I loved, not because I sought to gain anything. Had I known that she was to leave me this money I would have myself asked her not to.”

“Shut up and stop the drama. You took advantage of her ill-health, of our reliance upon you. Let the court deal with this now.”

I had gone numb. A motive was being sought in my care and concern. “I am sorry if that is what you think. I will give back the money to you as i receive it. I will go to the court and sign an affidavit, promising to keep my word.”

And I left. That was few weeks back. Time had refused to numb the sting of Amar’s words. I was scarred. I received the amount and keeping my word, wrote a cheque for the same in favour of Amar’s father. I had it dispatched by courier. And came home. Seeking a moment of closure. The mobile beeped and I checked the messages which preceded a couple of missed calls. Tanvi had messaged me. I read. And I froze.

“Di, can you please come home quickly? Mom isn’t feeling well. I don’t know what to do.”

Yes, that is how it all had started a year back ... I just fell on the sofa. Did I have it within me to go through all this again? What if my care was thrown back on my face again? What if an ulterior motive was sought in my actions again?

To answer Tanvi or not ... Well, what do you think I must have or should have done?

Friend?

Frothy waves of the sea ... teasing the shore and scampering back. Reminded me of my childhood when I used to ring my neighbour’s doorbell and run away before anyone could open the door. All its mightiness and yet the sea did behave like an impish child at times.

We were building sandcastles by the sea. Aryan and I. I was making a horrible house while he was making a fine fort. Awful attempt of mine, earnest effort of his.

“Aryan! I can’t seem to get the walls right. It isn’t fair that your fort is coming out so well. Help me with my home.”

Without looking up, he said “No.”

“You heartless cold creature!”

“Thanks!”

“Why do you take pride in being called an iceberg?”

“Saves me from unnecessary drama. The less you care, the less you are hurt. An attitude that you really need to adopt.”

I just sat helplessly and stuck my tongue out at him.

Sensing it somehow, he said “Yes, see! That child inside you isn’t letting you build your sand house properly.”

In what I hoped was a sad voice, I said “You won’t help me? Is that what friends are for?”

He looked up at me. “Friends? Is that ... Is that just what we are? Wow!” And he continued with his fort.

“Ummm ... But then what are we?”

I don’t know why and how but the moment just paused in the air. I couldn’t pin it. His hands were busy and yet I could sense his mind being busy elsewhere. I didn’t say anything further. After nearly half an hour, we both had finished our architectural attempts with the sea sand. And we were now perhaps thinking of appropriate words to break the uneasy silence. What could be said that wouldn’t be ... and a dog came and scrambled our thoughts. I mean the ‘sandcastles’! We both broke up in laughter! An hour of handwork all ruined in a few seconds.

I smiled and said “Ok Aryan, I had better get going. “

“Sure. Take care. See you.”

And we parted ways.

Aryan and I had got acquainted with each other on a social networking site. From sharing opinions to jokes, discussing current affairs and occasionally some gossip as well, our chats never restricted themselves to any particular topic. What I liked most about his was his practical nature, nonchalant attitude and the most remarkable, his wit. Over time, the jokes shared between us got raunchier and ever so slowly the curtain that keeps the formal separate from the candid slipped off. I now discussed almost everything with him. All my worries, beau troubles. He listened patiently and somehow that made all the difference. Telling him my troubles made them vanish from my mind. He too shared his work schedules, his girlfriend and family matters with me. And then one day, we met. At a cafe.

He was the tall, dark and handsome guy of any girl’s dreams. For all his wit and talk, he was even better in person. I thought of all the personal things I had shared with him and my face coloured, much to his amusement. We talked and laughed and enjoyed our time together. Each time that he spoke of his girlfriend his eyes twinkled up and each time that his eyes twinkled up they touched my heart. I don’t know why. As if his smile was a candle flame and my heart was a mirror. I told him of my boyfriend, his fickle childish nature and he laughed, though I don’t know if at me or at my boyfriend.

Over the span of a few months, circumstances had changed. He was still with his girl while I had broken my heart, nursed it back and was moving on with life. And we met a few more times. Like today. But today was different. I couldn’t answer him. He was more than a friend. But then what do you call someone who is more than a friend? Given all its words, the vocabulary failed me.

I reached home and kept my handbag on the table. The mobile buzzed and I picked it. Aryan had messaged me. And as usual, as ever, as always, his message brought a smile on my lips.

I don’t know whether you will agree with him or not but his message read “Accomplice? :P”