Monday, 29 August 2016

THE COLOURS OF OUR BEING

For a while this afternoon the rain washed down the sunshine and we sat at the same table for the last time.

I walked in. They looked up and burst into two sly grins. I let loose my evil cackle to turn off their smirks. Pauline and Nokdy: the Art and the Heart of our organism.

Pauline was a splash of red and gold today. She didn't know it, but she was. So this time I believed her when she told me that I could do it, that I already knew how to touch my dreams. She had been soft green, happy yellow and royal purple in the past. She had been a dancing piece of silk and a cold stone. Yet each time I’d either laughed or frowned. Today she was a plain splash and I believed her.

Nokdy was warmth. She was the calm flame in the fireplace of our lives, shooting occasional sparks of playful teasing. And she had always been such. She had grown but she hadn't changed. Today I saw why I had waited for her at the metro station everyday all these years, why we shall remain together. Without love and care our organism couldn't live. The quiet energy, the bare curiosities, the simple joys and the silly conquests; they keep us alive, they show us the way.

“Here. Ningning’s gift to you.” They said, and handed me Ningning in a wooden frame. The Soul of our organism. An elegant wildness leaped out and her bouncy bright laughter from all the years past pranced around me, tugged and hugged me a little. “You know what happened today?” her excitement began before trailing off into the distance calling “Himshu!” for her daily dose of chubby cheeks.

And in strode Neha. “What did I miss?” she asked as she sat down in her chair. The Good Sense of our organism had come and brought with her the rational plans to keep in touch after we parted. There were many things she could be and had been for us these years past: the signpost at the fork in the roads, the quilt large enough to hold the four rolling babies inside us, the ice pack. But today she was beautiful; just beautiful. She squeezed her strength into me; her parting gift.

I was the one leaving. Perhaps, leaving for good. It was my goodbye. The Will to Persevere in our organism. But I was happy, full. I could see today the pages and pages of me that I had hammered into them over the years. I knew: like me, they too saw the colours of our organism reflected in the world. 

We had grown, spilled ourselves over each other and into life, into the silken blue oceans, the cotton white clouds, the sharp green grass and glossy gray skyscrapers.


And so for a while this afternoon the rain poured into the earth and they ate their last meal together. Then, as their memories washed the tears clean off their minds, the sun smiled through the clouds once again. 

Wednesday, 24 August 2016

WHEN THE SKY LIT UP

I

“There are twelve fire-trucks. I counted. I've been here for quite some time.”
Deben and a bandaged Tara were seated side by side at the rear of an ambulance near the Leopold Cafe.
“How did you get here?” Tara asked Deben.
“Oh, I lived up on the third floor. A little way off from that charred window.”

“Hey! How are you feeling now? Are you okay? Are your insides all fresh?” Arnav had jogged up to them after having talked to one of the firemen for a while.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
"Alright, we've got to wait till the firemen have finished their work before we can get back to our car. It’s going to be late.”
“Okay.”

“Hello! Nice to meet you. Are you okay baba?” Mir asked, having arrived at the spot unnoticed.
 “As good as I can get.” Deben replied, grave and slightly morose.
“Hope we meet again.” Mir smiled to Arnav and Tara as he helped Deben up. 






II

It was that time of day when the bright summer sun was beginning to weary of its day-long duty of looking after the earthlings. Shadows had begun to stretch their limbs all around the regal circle. The stalls and meagre shops that nudged each other for space through the length of the footpath opposite the metro house building -- and sold everything from food to earrings, clothes, toys, jewellery, other accessories and electronics -- began to get a busier as more tourists walked into their open arms now than only a little while earlier.

  Drained and famished from the trip to the Elephanta Caves, Arnav left his sister, Tara, in their car to wait for him till he returned with burgers and fries from McDonald's. Their red Suzuki Dzire was parked in a cosy spot on the narrow street behind the Regal building, Lansdowne road; a lane that also served as a sort of side alleyway for the Metro Plaza building and led away from the row of shops straight to the Gateway of India. The front of the Regal building looked directly toward Madame Cama Road emerging out of the shade of the University buildings via The National Gallery of Modern Art; the one that the two tourists from the mall were ambling down at the moment.
 
Tara sat in their Dzire, feet up on the dashboard, window pulled down two inches, eyes closed and head swaying to the melody of her playlist floating out from the speakers. 

“Here in these... deep city lights.... girl could get lo-oo-ost tonight. I’m finding, every reason to be gone, there’s nothin’ here to hold on to-oo-oo... Will I find..” A scream, yells; Tara opened her eyes to the fart of a fat man hurrying his family into their SUV. On the rear view mirror were people rushing out of the Metro Plaza building, hollering at each other. A group of young men ran past the Dzire, one of them losing his balance and crashing into it, rocking her off her comfortable position. 

 Before she could register the sudden burst of frenzied running, a tumultuous dispute of car horns and yells had ruptured that world -- people mercilessly shoved and tugged at each other, cars backed up and left, the whole population around that building erupted in a manic erratic charge down the adjoining roads.

And then it hit, with no warning whatsoever: the torrent, the deluge, the barrage of black smoke and debris gushed out from the alleyway behind the Metro Plaza building, only a few feet away from where Tara was. Darkness devoured the car; the toxic blackness seeped in and choked it.

Tara groped at the door lock in panic and yanked it, letting the door fly out and smash against the rear end of a passing bus that had been diverted back to the regal circle due to the chaos. She jumped out, slammed the door shut and began to run towards the front of the building, trying to force her way through a bombardment of bodies. Arnav hadn’t come by the car.

The air grew denser by the second. Fists, palms, elbows, torsos, knees, shoulders kept smashing into her small form, turning her around in every direction possible, driving her along with the raging horde. Without breath, space or foothold she drifted to the intersection of one of the lanes leading out to the main road.

All air and light had been expelled from those streets. The smoke was creeping into her whole being, taking her soul hostage. The crowd crushed her gasps, her agonizing shouts to Freedom. And as though in answer, the thick sooty blackness of the air began to give way to a peaceful obscurity. A cool serenity eclipsed the heat of the fire in her body. She was floating, tranquil. Her eyes didn’t burn anymore. There was nothing to hear, soft or hard. A simple void embraced her.

 A gigantic force jolted her back to consciousness. In a fuzzy world she found herself being carried down the lane by a broad chest, beyond the toxic fog and away from it. Phantom faces floated out of the mist towards her. And then she crashed into a parked car. A searing pain shot up her head and threw her back into oblivion.



“Tara... Tara...” Arnav was shaking her. His face was beginning to pierce the hazy daylight that had begun to stream through the slits in her eyes. The acrid taste from the smoke still filled her mouth. Arnav hauled her up by her arms to a standing position and with her weight on his shoulders she dragged herself to an ambulance. A deep gash sat on her forehead on its left side.






III

 “Oh! There it is. CR2 Mall. I’m sure we’ll find a good place to lunch in there.”

“There are quite a few restaurants here according to Google.”

 “Food court upstairs.”



“Looks like it’s been closed for a while.”

“Oh, come on! We can’t very well stand and try to stuff a gigantic hot dog into our tiny little mouths, can we? I don’t want any ketchup and onions on my dress!”

“To the Italian one then; although pasta makes me feel heavy for a long time later.”

“It’s okay. We’ll walk it off.”



“So it didn’t occur to them to provide spoons and forks to eat, the food came in a teeny little pothole at the centre of an ocean of a plate – I could probably fit it within my hand-span and THAT is less than the average second grader – and they sneered at us for ordering vegetarian.”

“I think they understood that we did it for its lower price.”

“And they have the nerve to hand a feedback form to us! Oh, and look: the lowest check-box reads average. As if it couldn't be worse!”

“A light drizzle! Pleasant, isn’t it?”



 “You know when I first came here, I thought this place looked like a post apocalypse city that had reconstructed itself. Such an uncanny mix of old modern buildings and shiny Victorian buildings. So different from Delhi. And there is some kind of peace to the existence here; you don’t have to be on your toes all the time. People are good to you.”

“ And have you noticed that we've come all this way and not once did we see a car jump signal or go the wrong way.”

“Not much honking either. No people walking in the middle of the narrower roads. Turn right.”

“Very responsible driving too.”

“Maybe we are overwhelmed because we come from Delhi.”

“That place! Gosh!”

“Even the weather’s better here. It’s not as humid as I thought it would be. I imagined it to be like Kolkata. I can’t breathe there.”

 “I could live here. You know, settle down and have a family and shit?”

“Yeah whatever man.”

“Left. I think. Wait. I’m confused. The Google map is so not like the real place!”

“Hey lets go over to those shops there. We can ask one of them the way after we’re done shopping.”

“Okay.”

“Oh wow, a Kashmiri emporium!”

“These earrings are so cute.”

“Yeah we’ll pick up some later.”

“This place is so happening. I think we’re here.”

“Here? Where?”

“Cafe Mondegar.... Regal....Gateway is straight ahead.”



“It’s too costly.”

“What?”

“That kaftan at the Kashmiri emporium. That one.”

“There are more emporiums down this road.”



“Oh. Look, there’s smoke coming out of that third floor window over there, above Cafe Mondegar.”

“Shoot, you’re right. That can’t be good.”

“It isn’t much though.”

“Nevermind, let’s just go to Gateway. It’s through that lane by the Cafe.”

“Alright.”



“Oh my God! This is crazy! Everyone is running out of the building! Shoot! Where did all that smoke come from?”

“This way! Come on, we can’t (cough cough) run through the smoke.(cough) It’s toxic. Through here. (cough cough cough). Follow me! (cough) RUN!”

“Careful! You’ll get run over!”

“Come on, we’ve got to outrun the smoke!”

“Ouch! Douchebag pushed me!”



(panting) “We made it out good. They’re closing down all roads that way now, see.”

“I think I hit a girl on her head with my purse on the way.”

 “Yeah.  ... Hey, let’s join those people there and watch the fire. This isn’t something that happens in everyone’s life right?”

“Three fire-trucks already. That’s prompt.”

“And an ambulance too. I hope no one’s hurt.”

 “Remember our PG? We had planned to jump out of the balcony and all, but all of us knew that it was a disaster waiting to happen.”








IV

“Well, hasn’t it been a day to remember!” Deben sighed, the feather of a mellow smile floating down onto his lips as he placed his cup and saucer on the table. Mir had only just come out to the veranda to chat away the drowsiness of a forced awakening from an afternoon nap and was sinking into one of the cane chairs beside Deben.

“Hmm”, he grunted in reply and followed it with a mammoth yawn. 

“It’s almost eight, and so bright yet! ” Deben continued, turning to Mir. “In Kolkata it must be dark by now. Oh, but this is the best time of the evening. The birds are on their way back to their nests. Look, that tree down there is where the crows are, and that there on the opposite complex is where the parrots go. And the pigeons of course are all over the buildings. That...”

“Baba, you’re sure you’re alright?” Mir broke in.

 “Yes, yes, don’t pester me”, Deben snapped irritably, resuming his skyward gaze. “You’d do better asking about what really happened inside that building”, he continued after a pause, much more composed, although still annoyed.

“Alright then, what happened?” Mir asked quickly, resigned, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand and adjusting himself to a cross-legged position on his chair.

They were both staring out into the city, the deepening sky, the louder lights, the growing bedlam of birds chirping as they bickered over branch-space and let loose the deluge of their day’s happenings.

“I was in my bed taking a nap, Aarti was reading or something. Well, at least that’s what she says she does in the afternoons. Anyway, I woke up at some point feeling a little bit too warm for the day and called out to her. But there she was, hurriedly gathering her things and making a dash for it. ‘There is a fire Uncleji, big one. It is catching fast. My two childrens, what I can do? I am going. Sorry. Bhagwaan raksha Karen aapki.’ That’s it. She said this much, flinging her arms about, and ran out by the time my feet had found the slippers! And she left the door wide open too!”

Mir’s back had shot up straight by now. He was a pursed lipped statue of contempt.

“I don’t blame her of course, in hindsight. Such a tiny little thing, and she is, after all, the only one to feed her children. She got scared that’s all. But she could have at least passed me my walking stick before she left,” Deben continued, unaware of the grimace beside him. “Anyhow, I helped myself up by the bedposts and hobbled to the window where my walking stick stood. I picked up the phone from the table to call you. And that’s when I saw; the black smoke gushing out of the fourth floor like a flooded river discharging itself to the sky. It was the window near the stairway area. It was monstrous! I thought I would never escape! So I wrapped my muffler around my face, whisked myself around and shuffled along to the door as quick as I could. But the air was thick in the hallway by now, dark grains that hit your skin like pebbles and stoke it like you would burning embers of coal. Oh, yes! That’s how the skin feels: as though you are the one ablaze, not the wood.

“The acridity poured in through the wool and scraped my insides, but I still pushed on toward the main stairway. The neighbours were gone. The other end of the floor was afire. It wasn't a crackle; it was a roar! A maddening, deafening roar of laughter mocking me, calling out to me: a hungry fiend!” 

Deben paused, his nose flaring with a fiery breathlessness.

Mir and his sister Bela were staring at him wide eyed. A nacho lay on the tray in pieces, crumbled and fallen from Bela’s hand by the force of the worry that her father’s blood pressure would rise.

“At this point, a loud crash thundered. A stairway had given.” Deben began again. “This was impossible. I could not see anything much anymore. I was burning inside and out! I thought the window might have fresh air to give me, so I turned around, dragged myself back to our apartment and opened the window. It was hardly any better other than that it seemed like the firemen had arrived. I leaned out wanting to wave to them, but ... jah! I can’t remember this part.

“Never mind; after that I found myself lying in an emergency ambulance a little way off from the building, one of those ridiculous breathing masks on my nose. Apparently, I had fallen unconscious and been rescued!”, he said and turned to his own two children. “Don’t look at me like deflated balloons! I’m real; not a character from a movie.”

“It does seem like you've watched too many of them.” Bela winked, exploding into a giggle.

“And what about your heroic dismissal of healthcare?” Mir added, grinning.

“Yes, yes, you young generation keep making fun of everything,” Deben grumbled, looking away into the sky.

 “You did tell it well, I’ll give you that!”

“You will give me nothing! Grew up in my lap and now telling me what is real and what is not. What days have come!”

“Come now, I was only joking.” Mir laughed.

He was looking out into the sunset sky, a testimony of the story he had just seen play out on its canvas. Bela, too, had lost herself to the deepening dusk, one leg crossed over the other, her cat clawing at her dangling pyjama strings.  The ghosts of their voices faded into the spectrum of twilight, dispersing itself in the rings of occasional chirping, distant honking and cold sweat-beads trickling. Then was as withdrawn from now as it was within.

“Well, that’s that then!” Deben declared suddenly, struggling up from his chair and adjusting himself against his walking stick. “I’m going to flip through the news. What’s for dinner?”


Monday, 15 August 2016

A VOYAGE AROUND MY BEDROOM

My bedroom is not an adventure.

It is white, black and brown with only the occasional splash of colours on the calendar, the bookshelf or the one open window.



Through the silver vines cracking the black curtain you must pass and enter. Each object, lined up against the walls, placed amid the stones of the mosaic floor, you must touch.

First: to the crowd of words and colours, furiously haggling with each other, shouting out their theories and opinions from their spots on the brown shelf. The lines on the wood, the stones on the floor, the stars on the roof have all gathered for conference; for someone must walk into each book, must live with the people of each new world, must learn the problem or the proposition, and must choose the postulates that form the constitution of the Land of the Books.

Second: to the point of the calendar. She prides herself as the only poster in the room, talking of the countryside of North Eastern India. She stands glaring at the window on the opposite wall who claims his is the greenery that is real, while hers are the confused colours of memory. You must look at the window: a picture of a fern and a neem and a large tree and a skinny one, gossiping at the street corner, caressing the signpost and the lamp-post. Is it real or magical; is it a truth or a lie? You must tell the calendar if she is wrong or right. Who will be the room’s supreme poster: the quiet countryside of the North-East or the bustling street-corner of the Capitol.

Third: to the desk, the shrine of the Oracle. At its centre sits the priest, not vain, not boasting, the medium of a God all-knowing. She remembers what you say, as she hears the billion other voices that confide in her. When you are lost she will guide you. If you ask the right questions she will show you the world. But first, you must solve the riddle she has put to you.

Fourth: to the electric piano and its band of speakers. Touch the keys to give your command. And they will carry you to the clouds above or a day in your past, to a concert or a house of cards.

Fifth and final: To the bed for one and a half. Turn off the lights and wait until that rare night; when the sun and the moon are both asleep in their chamber and upon the earth shines no light. The street lights and car head-lights throw amber cones onto the roads across the globe. But my bedroom becomes a world of shadows. And you, too, will melt into the dark; become no more than a wisp of smoke. The room will spin and take you along to other worlds that are more alive than the World of Lies from whence you stepped into my bedroom, where you may win conquests, solve crimes, walk around or make love under the sea.



And when morning arrives, wise and victorious, you will find yourself at the centre of a room brown, black and white: a bedroom, my bedroom, that offers no extraordinary sight. 

Monday, 8 August 2016

10 VOICES, 1 STORY : TOAD

NUMBER 1.  The Musical.

“I’m scared!”
“You’re scared?”
“I’m scared.”
“You’re scared.”
“Oh, what a terrible night.”
“But why?”

“Next to the closet.
Upon the faucet.
Sits and croaks
The Mighty Toad!”

“In a cottage in the woods we are
From towns and homes afar.
For God’s sake Looee!
What did you think you’d see?”

Croak croak. Croak croak.
I am the Mighty Toad.
This is my home, you see.
So out of it you must be.

“Mighty Toad indeed!
This house is mine to keep.
And if thou dostn’t, this instant, leave
To my pet snake I will thee feed.”

And so Lady Bree
Grew famous in all the land of Pyree
Along with her pet snake Slymee.
For, she could make the toads flee!






NUMBER 2. A Column in the Papers.

At his Annual Christmas Ball, Prince Curree danced and dined and even had a special dish prepared for Lady Bree, whom he officially recognised as the First Superhero of Pyree. Her pet snake and partner, Slymee, was lavishly fed with toads found in the royal household. Caught on camera at the dinner table, she was seen giving a speech where she said that she had merely stumbled upon her talent and ability to hunt toads while at a retreat in a cottage in the Tropical Woods outside the Capitol with her husband, Looee. She said that this was about a year before she became well-known and at that time, she had only bought Slymee off a pet shop in Moscow. She later stated in an interview outside the palace, “I am honoured to rid my country of the toad infestation that has plagued it for more than a decade.”






NUMBER 3At the Dinner Table.

“So, Lady Bree, tell us. What, made you, take up, the profession of Toad Hunting?” Lord Humphree asked, between forkfuls of pancake.

The whole table turned to her. 

“Well, it’s rather ordinary really.” Lady Bree began with a flattened-with-flattery smile. “It was the summer of 2009. Looee and I were taking a break from life at a cottage in the Tropical Woods. It was our rather late honeymoon, you see. We had been to Moscow that New Year to visit an ill aunt of his, right after our marriage. That’s where I bought Slymee.

In the cottage, Looee – I’m sorry dear if it’s a little embarrassing. It is damningly hilarious. – Looee called out to me one night, frightened out of his wits, by a bully of a toad on a faucet. At first I thought it was simply a toad and that I’d simply pick it up and throw it out. But when I approached it, it turned rather vicious and kept snapping at me! It was obnoxious.

So, I brought Slymee to the bathroom.” She finished, with a shrug of her shoulders.






NUMBER 4. Prime Time Celebrity Gossip.

Lady Bree, after five glorious years in the Toad hunting career, is all set to publish her first book. She was spotted wearing this toad-skin outfit at the book release event, which was sponsored by Prince Curree. With hundreds of fans from Pyrree alone, the event was a grand success. In fact, when this picture was taken, Prince Curree was inviting her to his son’s birthday party next month!

In an emotional pre-release speech she gave special thanks to her husband, Looee, whose discovery of an insolent toad on a faucet, in the cottage of their honeymoon retreat five years ago, is where all this began. She also surprised her fans -- and shockingly, even Prince Curree – with the announcement that she’d been approached by Bill Gates who was willing to sponsor her Toad Hunting company. She is all set to go international. Take a look at this exclusive clip.

P.S.: We missed Slymee.






NUMBER 5. A Snippet from ‘The Ultimate Toad Hunting Guide’.

WARNING: POST TOAD-SPOTTING SHOCK CAN LEAD TO HEART FAILURE AND SUBSEQUENT DEATH.
Thus, it is important to have comprehensive knowledge of a Toad before you go hunting.


7 DEADLY FEATURES of a Toad:
  • They are heavy. Taking hold of them the wrong way might lead to a wrist sprain; in worst cases, a fracture.
  • They are slimy. They will attempt to wriggle out of your hands and slide into your clothes.
  • They are malodorous. They leave their stench on your being and your home. It usually takes up to a whole week for the stench to disperse.
  • They are spiteful and arrogant. They snap and spit at you if you attempt to reason with them.
  • They bite and lick. The points of contact tend to turn sore and develop rashes that can stay up to a month and have no faster cure.
  • Their hideouts are the coldest and most visible places. You must look for them in those parts of the house that fulfill both these conditions. For example, a faucet. They do not compromise.
  • Their croak echoes and is deceptive as regards the giving away of their location. 


2 ADVANTAGES OF HUMAN over Toad:
  • They are afraid of snakes.
  • They are afraid of threats. 








NUMBER 6. Not the Frog Prince.

“Mmm... you’re neck tastes so good wet.” She whispered, face buried under his chin, the water trickling down the softness of their skin.
“I know.... I know...” he breathed back, deep in passion, cushioned snugly by the faucet in the steamy shower cabin.
All of a sudden she hardened.
“What’s wrong?” He kissed and caressed.
“My buttocks are slimy.”
He paused and fixed her in a Ross-like stare. They sat still as stones for a few seconds.

It moved.
“Aaaaaaa”
“That thing!”

They were faced by a gigantic croaking toad which had, now that the space was free to use, sprawled itself over the faucet.
“Shoo. Shoooo!” he waved. “Not my toothbrush! Bree!”
 Croak. Croak.
 “Gosh, it won’t budge.”

They paced up and down and racked their brains in their dressing gowns. Till Bree said, “I’ll go get Slymee.” 






NUMBER 7. Lady Bree Makes Her Way Into Folklore.

(In the tune of Sing a Song of Sixpence)


Sing a song of pet snakes
Cottage fulls of slime.
Four hundred twenty proud toads
Slain for their crime.

Perched on the faucet
The toad began to croak.
Now, wasn't that a mighty shock
For Looee, poor old bloke.

When Bree was in the parlour
Feeding pet Slymee
A shout came and startled her
That was from poor Looee.

Mighty Toad snapped at Bree
And Bree in rage did sway
Then forth came the pet snake
And scared it away.

That was how it all began
The Toad hunting spree.
Cured of the mighty plague
Pyrree lived on with glee.






NUMBER 8. Silver and Green.

A fat green toad like a fat green gourd
On a sliver tap did sit and goad.
Dear Looee and Miss Bree,
Leave the cottage and flee.
But Slymee the snake scared away the green gourd.






NUMBER 9. The Toad Grew Old.

I sit here at my old oak desk, in a leaky old age hole, set out to write this memoir. Today is my birthday and I turn ninety one. But back in my prime I was the Chief of Toadee, our tribe, for a whole decade. I’d like to begin my book by recalling those grand times; the Golden Age of the Toads of Pyrree.

For a decade we conquered all creatures on this land. We grew rich and were feared. New laws and pacts were made and the toads became prosperous and the other creatures, peaceful and content with our generosity and the stability we offered. All, except the pests humans who continued to live by their trickery and deceit. We toads took it upon ourselves to banish them from the land.

This proved to be a difficult task indeed. They wouldn't understand law and honesty and harmony. So we went to war. For ten years we kept them checked and took back what they stole. Our forces achieved wonders. I became loved and revered.

Sadly, this was not to last. One day, a couple came to a cottage in our forest. That cottage had been reclaimed by us eight years ago. It was the spiders’ school house and the ladybugs’ warehouse. This couple, however, slaughtered all who were there and destroyed their home.

I attempted to confront them. I had intended to reason and hadn’t taken any soldiers with me. But they didn’t listen. I had to attack and fight alone.

They knew they couldn't fight me. So they brought out a snake. At first I thought they had befriended the snake clan. But I soon realised that it was not so. This snake did not speak our tongue. He did not know our ways. And he was no friend to Toads. I could sense it. He had been the cause of all the deaths in the cottage. I fled.

The law was clear. I had forfeited a battle and compromised my people. I had to give up my kingship. That was a good thing though, because I then traveled far and wide. But that is a story for another day.






NUMBER 10. Slymee’s Legacy: A Note in the Museum.

Queen Pyra Cobthon the Two Hundred and Eighty Third, of the snake clan, had built a shrine for Slymee.  On their Tree of Poison, was hung up Slymee’s best skin, dyed blue. He got written down in their history books as The Notorious Mass Devourer of toads, bugs, bees and spiders. The shrine would be a common school hate trip destination where the snakelings would participate in a pledge which involved the glorification of simplicity and humbleness in living as opposed to Slymee’s hubris, gluttony, fame and lavish life. They would then sing the national anthem in praise of their Queen. The tradition has continued down the centuries.

Among the humans, Slymee began to be worshiped as Satan’s reincarnation. In their history books, God became the deceiver who had made the plague of Toads descend. Slymee came as their saviour. Long after his passing, Church walls rang with hymns to him, Voices from Mosques called out to him, Rituals and Pujas were done in honour of him. The whole world united in prayer to Slymee.

Slymee had saved Lady Bree and Looee in that cottage all those centuries ago. Slymee had eaten all those vicious toads until there were no more. Slymee lived on. 

Wednesday, 3 August 2016

THE UNSCREWED COMPASS

“If they be two, they are two so
As stiff twin compasses are two
Thy soul, the fixed foot, makes no show
To move, but doth, if th’other do.”

n  John Donne
in A Valediction: Forbidding Mourning


While the soft earth caressed the dreamy breeze on the lawns covering the vast gardens surrounding the airport building, Tess and RJ strolled along the length of the broad pavilion outside the departure gates. Their palms locked tight, looks pensive; they walked side-by-side, silent, calm. They had been like this for the past twenty minutes. They had been like this on the train to the airport. They had been like this all that morning. Now they were closing in on noon.

The night before, the full moon had looked down upon their smooth sleeping bodies and smiled.




“Wake up, you boar!” Tess yelled as she bustled about with her dress and toiletries. “It’s 7 a.m.”

“Hmmmm...” In the mirror, behind Tess’s right earring, RJ turned over and began to snore once more. 

So, without a moment’s hesitation, she curtly picked up her pillow and repeatedly brought it down on his head till he sat up straight and wide eyed.

“It’s 7 a.m.” she repeated, glowering through shabby black hair and continuing to glare till he closed the bathroom door behind him. 

Twenty minutes later they were singing duets in their car, rolling down the highway towards the caves.

It was dark inside. Green drops of water fell from the mossy roof as they scraped their way through the series of rough rocks and climbed over boulders.

“My forehead’s itching with this tight band on.” Tess remarked.

“It smells great in here though, doesn’t it?”

“I wonder if it’s the odour of all the tufts of slimy moss clinging to the walls, preventing us from taking their support.”

“Awww, you little grumpy. Come on. This is a good spot for a picture.”

It was raining outside. The air became cooler, the earth softer. Out of the caves now, Tess and RJ sat at an adjoining cafe, grinning at each other over coffee, as they had done so often the past three years. An energetic breeze blew the rain horizontal and brought the drizzle into the cafe which only had an overhead covering and whose sides were bare. The air swung on branches and blew at leaves, hopped over drooping dandelions and rolled onto the mud before rushing into the cracks and pores of the rocks in the caves, tickling the earth’s belly.

Now it smells good.” Tess said, winking at RJ.

He drew a long deep breath.

“Wet eyes can see clearer, don’t you think?” he replied, grinning again. “Or perhaps it’s the coffee that has mellowed you.”

“You’re a beast. Beastie.”

“And you’re Snow White’s dwarf, Grumpy.”

“Screw you!” Tess scowled.

“You bet.” RJ laughed with an amused smirk.

When all the rain had crossed over from the clouds to the earth, the air broke out in a warm, relaxed smile. The trees swayed to the melody of the chirping birds and squirrels began chasing each other once more. It was Tess’s turn on the wheel and they played Atlas all the way back to the city.

“Let’s go bowling tonight,” RJ suggested while they sat, one among the crowd of vehicles waiting to enter the city when red light retired and green light came out for her shift.

“Sure,” Tess replied.

And so it was that they found themselves laughing and challenging each other over drinks, game after game, at the bowling arena that stood conveniently beside their hotel.

“Wanna go dance a little?” Tess asked.

“Will you sing with me at the karaoke after that?”

“Nothing happens straight for you, does it?”

But the moment they entered the pub, a large room in the gaming parlor, RJ pulled Tess along to the front of a crowd gathered at a center table. Exuberant, glowing faces pressed in on them from all sides under blue neon lights. At the table were two old ladies downing shot after shot.

“What’s happening here?” Tess yelled to her neighbor, trying to reach him over the crowd’s roar and the loud trance music.

“They bet about being able to take ten shots of tequila in a minute and still stay standing. This sort of thing’s never happened before. Five shots are on the house.” The man shouted back.

“That’s a lot of tequila.” Tess yelled in reply and they both rejoined the cheering.

The minute ended with both ladies having downed six and they were being congratulated by the dispersing gathering while they got up to leave and staggered through to another table.

“I challenge this young lady here,” RJ hollered suddenly.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Tess scolded back.

“What? You afraid?”

“Huh, what... hey!”

“Well, are you?”

Tess sensed the tension. The crowd had turned towards them. About thirty eyes were staring straight at them in total silence.

“Fine. Challenge accepted. But you pay.”

“Done.”

The crowd began their cheering once again. Men pulled their chairs for them. A waiter was summoned and soon arrived with the tray of shots. For one more time that night five shots were put on the house. And the game finished as fast as it started. RJ won 10 to 7.

“For my reward,” he announced, “Tess here, who lost by three whole shots,” he paused to let the performance gather full effect, “has to sing for me You've Got Time.” Bang! He let his fist drop on the table as a dramatic finale to his speech.





Thus the evening rolled on and culminated in furious head banging to hard rock.

Tess and RJ wobbled to their hotel room at about 10 p.m.

RJ began to nervously search his pockets and the insides of his pants for the key.

“Oh move over.” Tess barked. The key had been in her purse.

“Give me that” RJ drawled, trying hard to grip the key and snatch them from Tess’s fingers.

And then he fumbled with the keys, making a very strenuous effort to place it in the key hole and turn it. Then Tess made an attempt. Then RJ. Tess again. And so on till the door, catching them unawares, swung open and both tumbled into the room.

As the earth looked up at the moon, melancholy that air had left her and flown to the sky for nocturnal refuge, the two lovers in the hotel regained their wits at the simultaneously and immediately realised they were star-crossed.

And in their shock they began to rip off each other’s clothes with great ferocity and kissed and clawed at each other savagely while climbing onto bed. There they fell to their pillows, their naked bodies gleaming in the moon light, and drifted off to sleep. 





“So, this is it then. Isn't it.” RJ said, staring into a blurred world.

He squeezed Tess’s palm a little harder; as though that would keep her with him. 

For the first time in twenty minutes, they had spoken. Tess broke away from RJ and went over to look out onto the vast lawns. It seemed the air and the earth had warred the night before. Both were still, the sky was dark. Leaves and flower petals were strewn across the ground in a colorful wreckage. The moon still watched over them. Sweet smelling springs had sprouted on all the bare branches of a tree next to Tess, despite the gloom, and dew drops rested on their waxen skin.  The rest of the world was lost to her. 

“I loved our little infinity,” she whispered to RJ’s warmth that embraced her.

“Hey” he said, and turned her around to face him. “We’re not dying. We’re only going to be an ocean away.”

“We’re an unscrewed compass. We had to be.”





Ten minutes later, Tess walked through the gates for her flight to Berlin.

RJ waved her off and walked over to the McDonald's in the waiting lounge. He needed some fries. 

Monday, 1 August 2016

Memoirs of An Eventful Life

I wasn't always a table cloth.
I began as a window model.
The sleekest and most beautiful;
Just the right size, the perfect hue.

And that’s when she came
The small charming lady,
Said I had caught her eye
And that I would fit her design.

Thus, it happened that I
To a new home came.
For a few hundred rupees
I was more than happy to please

A dear young lady
Who said she’d dress me up.
Make me up perfect
As a gift to her niece.

She worked and worked
Day after dreary day
Till upon my belly
In perfect symmetry, lay

Two sisters at the foot of
Their dear old granny’s chair.
On the four corners of my being
Were four pandas drooling.

But oh! The wicked niece
Locked me into a dusty cupboard
And left me there erode
By the mold and cold and

I remained shut up and closed
In there, until I grew old.
My spirits gleamed no longer
My skin shone no more.

No one, although, knew
The family better than I
For what seeped into the closet
Got soaked into my yarn, like dye.

The niece died, the house was let.
Out came the dust covered I,
Or pardon me, ear.
My journey at the second home begins here.

At the back of a venerable couch
I lay sprawled. I had been
Washed and cleaned and
Ironed and preened.

But I was old. And an aged
Companion I had found.
This was, however, the house
Of a certain working bachelor.

Soon enough his wife arrived.
All rosy and slender and bright.
She reminded me of my days of yore
At the window of a humble shop.

From the couch I was snatched
And on the table I was laid.
Back to a place where
The family drama was played.

There I lie, happy and comfortable
Hopefully, till I die. You know,
I did have tragedy one day.
A corner of me burnt away

When the lights went out and
A candle was placed on me
The wax cracked, it fell over
To its side. The candle died.