A moment of hatred

Anand got up early morning and suddenly felt an urge to love the world. No, perhaps it was not so sudden, for he had been meditating on various aspects of humanitarian love for several days, but never before had he felt this strong a thrust from within to throw his heart out onto the world around. He gave his room mates a friendly hug, shared a few jokes with them, tried to gift each of them a happy moment and left for work. On his way he smiled at people, had a melody on his lips, kept the traffic away from his head, and drove slowly and happily to office. At the gate he saluted the guard and at the reception he greeted the receptionist. He smiled at the office boys running around and his other colleagues whether he knew them personally or not.

He had the usual interaction with his team, but was more lively and active in the discussions. He also observed keenly and enjoyed the variety of characters around him. He realized that his observations had no real surprise elements for he had felt almost all of them before. But this day he felt like making no classifications and no judgments and he simply wanted to love each trait of character he saw in them. He had no interest in politics, no high ambitions, no concerns about positions, no memories of wrong decisions, inconsistencies or injustice, and so he could even like the managers. He however soon began to feel that the office is too small, familiar and technical a world for this wonderful day. When lunch time arrived he applied leave for the rest half day and left office. He decided to take lunch from a nearby hotel which is usually full of life but which he had never been to, instead of the office canteen, and then think of plans for the rest of the day. He did not take his bike and started walking towards the hotel enjoying the life on the road.

He walked slowly and steadily observing as many persons he could on the way meeting them straight in their eyes. Of course, the first recipients of his glances of love were, as usual, girls in their youth. But this day he had decided to have no prejudices and his heart went out to every type of girl he saw, simple or not, confident or not, fair or not, smiling or not to name a few. Next major recipients of his love were kids. He displayed playful faces when he met small kids in their parents arm. He smiled at the kids who were running after school, caressed some on their heads, offered sweets and enquired about their day in school. He showed love and respect to the old people walking on the road, making way for them to walk past him, smiling and slightly bowing to them, and feeling fondness for their child like expressions. He observed the big boys smartly driving bicycles, and followed their glances on to the girls who looked even more smarter amidst a few blushes. And he celebrated this observation with memories of his own teenage days. He looked at the middle aged folks with admiration, lading in his mind their efforts to keep their family healthy and their employers satisfied at the same time. Perhaps among them would be people who have made great contributions to his field of work and hence the society, he thought, and his admiration grew even stronger. But the most common people he met on the road were youths close to his age, active and energetic and taking on the world. In them he saw variations of his room mates, colleagues and college mates. Many of them have left their home and come here to help himself, his family and the world move forward.

He went to the roadside fruit vendor, near the restaurant, asked for the price of mangoes and told him he would return after his lunch and buy some. It was then he noticed an old woman sitting on the pavement and begging for alms. She looked weak and tired and her voice was feeble. She told him that she has not been able to eat anything substantial during the past three days. He felt his high spirits come crashing down. All along the walk he had not noticed any hapless person on the roadside. Had he ignored them willfully? He drew his purse and gave her a few coins but that did not satisfy him. Was it sympathy, love or guilt he was feeling, he did not know. He asked her to come along with him offering her lunch. She looked surprised and her face brightened and he helped her get up from her seat. He got a lunch coupon for her, made her sit at the table facing him and asked her to eat until she is satisfied. As she started with her lunch, he felt happier but still felt inadequate. He started talking with her and asking her questions about her life. At first she was silent and concentrated on her food alone, but as her hunger began to subside she thanked him and started talking about her life. Emotional solace comes next only to food, he reflected, as she started narrating her miserable story.

She had grown up in a village far away and, though amidst poverty, was happily married with two children. Her husband loved her, her girl was sweet and her boy obedient. The trouble started after her husband's untimely death due to illness. She had managed to recover quickly from the loss for her children were her strength and her weakness. However, in spite of her efforts, she began to slowly lose control over the affairs of the household. The income never grew above expenses. Her children started drifting away from her as they grew older, and she felt this with pain but her priority was to give her children at the least one good meal a day. One day she returned home only to find that her girl had run away from her and she had to face accusations of neglect from her neighbor's, and more gravely, from her son. The next day her son returned drunk and out of sense, and he cursed her for everything. She advised him the next morning and he listened, but in the evening came back more drunk and beat her up. She learned he had fallen into bad company, and did all what she could do to save him but failed. Her life became miserable day by day and finally she was driven out of the house, which had become a hideout for scoundrels, and from the life of her son.

Anand reflected that her story seemed common and familiar and fitted into his conceptions about a poor village household. But he also realized that he was feeling genuinely sorry for her. He asked no more questions and just sat observing and listening to her as she narrated incidents of cruelty that she had to endure. At the end of each such narration she cursed her son's friends who were the real culprits behind her son's actions. They had hijacked and enslaved her son in liquor and would no doubt soon get the biggest of punishments from God. She was sure that her son would soon escape from them and come in search of her. She would give him a fine slap on his face and then forgive him for all that he has done to her, get him a sweet wife even though he is slightly over age, and live with him ever after. Anand felt his heart becoming heavy, his stomach losing appetite, and himself sharing her sorrow, her rage, her prayer and her hope. He tried to console her and keep her hope long alive and felt his inadequacy at the job. He waited until she finished her lunch by which time she had also become very silent. Then he took leave of her with a gentle press of the hand, as he gave her some money, and with deeply sympathetic but somewhat reassuring eyes. Her eyes were now overflowing with tears, and she half raised her hands to bless him but then withdrew from it, returned to her position on the pavement and after a few moments of thought, returned to her posture.

He walked past her with a final glance of sympathy. His mind was filled with the miserable life story of that old woman. He recollected each incident, thought about the role fate and man have played in it. He could not escape from the typical middle-class deliberations on the state of the poor villages across his country, as well as on the moral aspects of the relationships within a family with the outside. As he walked slowly and thoughtfully he noticed almost no one who went past him. He heard their voices and felt their proximity but he did not meet a single eye. He missed the fruit vendor, glided his way through a crowd near the bus stop interested in no one, crossed the road irritated by the honks of the vehicles and continued to walk slowly talking to himself. He was becoming more and more oblivious of the world around him when he almost ran into someone. That shook into him into his senses and he raised his head and looked at the man. He was middle-aged, fat, black, wearing a white shirt with slightly rolled up sleeves, and had wide eyebrows and a big moustache. The man started saying something but Anand did not decipher a single word and just looked at him with a blank face. Noticing this the man walked away in anger talking loudly to the rest of the world about the carelessness of today's youth.

Anand stood motionless. He had just realized something that he did not want to agree with but from the truth of which he could not escape. What he realized with pain was that at the moment his eyes fell on the face of that man, he had felt an instant hate for him. It was perhaps his first hate of the day. And it was a day when he did not want to hate at all. He started searching for reasons for his momentary hatred. That man was just another stranger who did no wrong (it was himself who ran onto thay guy) It was surely not because of his words which actually sounded more of an advice than a curse and moreover the hate had happened before those words came out. And that face had no aggressive expression that he can remember now. Then why, why did he have that miserable feeling of hate even if only for a moment?

Did he, at that instant, take this man to represent the son, or any of his friends. of that old woman on the street? The image of the cruel son he had formed in his over-cinema-fed mind had some likeness to this man. But if so, does that mean he had already started hating her son much before this momentary hste happened? Does every love have an element of hate in it? Feeling love is like sharing knowledge, the wise say, for every time you feel love your capacity to feel love increases even more. And perhaps every time you feel hate your overall capacity to love comes down. But if loving someone necessitates hating someone else (or something, say an idealogy, an institution. the society etc) then what happens? And does love for one justify hate for another, even when we have no visibility into the whole truth? How could he hate her son without hearing his version of the story?

He decided to leave that thread of thought which was getting complex. Perhaps it is just that he had already reached the limits of his capacity to observe and love for the day? Every one has his limits but if this is true, it would mean that his limit is indeed low and far below what he wished to possess. No wonder, he concluded, that he has become an engineer and not a social activist or a writer. Nothing happens purely by chance, everything is natural and reasonable. No choice is made in a moment, it would have already been made and is just signed at that moment.

Or is it just that the heat of the blazing sun above (he was indeed now full of sweat) was decapacitating him of any deep humane feeling, burning down his small monument of love to the ash of hate? Well, if an external reason is to be found, even the noise on the road and the unruly traffic can suffice, he noted with contempt for himself. But there may be some truth even there, for he has been seeing so much hate every day on the roads.

He did not get any single answer to the question and grew tired of reasoning. He at once realized that this was the end of his walk. He hastened his steps, reached his office cubicle, logged on to the computer, gave that lifeless executable a heavy run and waited for its response.

And as soon as he reached his residence in the evening he gave his mother, living in his native place far away, the longest call he had ever made to her.

Ten Minutes

Few men have the privilege of seeing smiling dear faces just before they die. It is a beautiful picture to be carried to heaven. Such was the luck of the old man next door who passed away yesterday morning. And, he had his watch with him until the last moment and it was still ahead by ten minutes. Well, to answer your questions about the significance of the watch let me narrate some incidents from his life, which he himself had told me a few days ago. .

Innocence
He was nine years old when he got his first real watch. His father never needed a watch to understand time, so he had to wait a full year, after he fell in love with the dial on his classmate's hand, before he could convince his father to get it for him. He held on to his father's hand tightly as they walked to the showroom. Among all the beautiful ones on display, he found no difficulty in spotting the one he wished, for he had seen it as many times in his dreams as on his friend's wrist. As soon as he got it, he wanted to wear it, so he asked the cashier for the correct time. The reply was "around 10 AM", the impreciseness and tone of which led him to look for other more reliable sources. He looked around and saw that all the clocks on the wall were showing ten minutes past ten, That should be the right time, he thought, and adjusted his watch accordingly. Little did he know that all those clocks were destined to show ten past ten until they obtained moksha through sale.

That was how his watch became ten minutes faster than others'. He realized it the very next day when he reached the classroom. He saw the class was just about half-full when he entered and the teacher had not yet reachedm, sights which he had not seen for long . He had been a notorious late-comer, who enjoyed the attention he received as he entered with excuses old and new day after day. But on this day, he had his watch to draw enough attention, so he decided to wait in class. The teacher was surprised at seeing him and could not prevent a mocking smile from flowing on to her lips. Some of his classmates also started giggling and he was becoming furious. He felt the sudden urge to run out of the class and re-adjust his watch back by half an hour or so. But soon the teacher regained her sense of duty and started praising him for his punctuality. She looked at his watch and commented that it looked great which made him feel proud. She displayed the watch to the entire class and told them how it had motivated and helped him become a regular student.

He was so elated by all this that he indeed resolved to become a good student. He started attending classes with interest and regularity. He vacated his place on the last bench and moved forward. He began to excel in studies and started to enjoy the new kind of attention he was now getting. He was hailed as the ideal, committed, sincere student and son, dream of many a teacher and a mother.

Freedom
He was eighteen and a college student. By then the fact that his watch was ahead by ten minutes had been ingrained in his mind. So he always did the subtraction to get the right time whenever it was necessary. Where it was not, he did not bother. For example, he renamed the 8.30 bus to college as the 8.40 bus and used his watch for getting ready. But when a person on the road asked for the time, he used to subtract before telling them, for he had developed the habit of being sincere in every interaction even with strangers.

On one such occasion the stranger beside him at the bus-stop asked him the time. He had his own watch but he was suspecting it to be slow because he feared having missed his usual bus which was nowhere in sight. As usual our sincere hero subtracted ten minutes and told him it was 3.20 PM, but this time matched what his watch showed. The man was unconvinced by this and took a direct look at the hero's watch and saw that it showed a time different from what he was told. He became angry and questioned our hero of his mischievous conduct. The latter tried to explain to him that his watch was actually ahead by ten minutes but the man could not understand why anyone should keep their watch wrong knowingly. At the end of the conversation, the man was still half-unconvinced, so he moved his watch five minutes ahead. This frustrated our young man and he had the sudden urge to reset his watch to the correct time as soon as he reached home. But then he started to rethink on why should he be so correct always. He recollected so many people for whom his exactness did not seem to matter and the indifference they returned him. From the next day, he stopped his subtraction on the road and he discovered that he was in fact happy at the thought that more people are running small parts of their lives ten minutes ahead of schedule.

It was just the beginning of a change. He discovered that he had this feeling of boredom within him for some time, which he had not analyzed so far. He became selective about when and with whom he should be ideally sincere and correct, and about expecting the same in return. He started feeling more and more a part of life in the campus, a world of humor and pranks, colors and shades, love and hate in many forms, stories and dreams, and a lot of group activity.

Love
He was twenty seven and wondering whether his search for long lasting love was nearing its end. He had met her a week ago at a friends' place and liked her at first sight. She was modern, educated and smart and seemed to fit his concept. They had become good friends in a short time. So last evening when they met he had invited her for a tea next day at a beach-side restaurant, with the intention of making his proposal there. They agreed to meet there at 5 PM and he said "5.10" to himself for he wanted to plan it perfectly. They continued their conversation that day and just before they parted, she noticed that their watches showed different times and adjusted hers to match his.

By next evening she had forgotten about the changed time, so she arrived quite early while he was still on the way planning a proposal of elegance and sweet timing. As she waited outside the restaurant she saw an old friend of hers just leaving it and walking towards his car. She called out his name and walked up to him. She invited him for another tea, this time with her and a friend who was coming. So when our hero reached the restaurant, he realized that he did not have the privacy to carry out his plans. He was told that they were friends from college and the conversation was hijacked by their memoirs of college life. He felt more disappointed when he noticed that she was talking to her rediscovered friend as intimately as she did with him. So he postponed his proposal plans till he was more confident about it. A week later she invited him for tea, and said she had a surprise for him, and when he reached there he saw that they were both sitting at the same table waiting for him. They had decided to tie the knot, he was told, as they had re discovered their lost love for each other. They had parted in a dreamy world and have met in a realistic one. They told him that he was send by god to unite them and he did so by arranging that remarkable coincidence the week before. He congratulated them and soon took leave. .

He was furious and heart broken. His thoughts started from the ridiculous and ended up in reason. He realized that it was his own doubts, and he still had them, about their relationship that had caused this. And perhaps this was a better ending to the episode. But why did he have to become the agent of their meeting? Marriages are made in heaven, he concluded, and God knows how to get them arranged. He was surprised to discover that he had thought of God, after a long gap. On his way back home he stopped at a temple to pray and from then on became a regular there. It was there he would first meet the girl who would later become his wife.

Crisis
He was forty five years old then. His only daughter was staying away from home to pursue her studies. His wife had become more of a mother. He had been working at the same firm for last fifteen years. He was expecting his next promotion that year for the hard effort he had been putting in.

He heard that news from his boss. There was no promotion for him this year, He became extremely dejected and angry and left the office for home. On the way, he criticized himself for being part of the wretched salaried class never free from politics and taxes. He could have become a businessman, if only he had not followed the common path that all sincere students in school follow. For he knew he was intelligent even when he was not studious. His car stopped at a signal and an old blind man came near it asking for alms. This sight turned his thought in another direction. He could have remained sincere and idealistic through college and maybe he could have done more for the society as well as attain fame and satisfaction. He reached home and rang the bell. His wife was in the middle of her daily long prayer. He told her of what happened in office and she tried to comfort him saying that God does everything for one's good but it had the opposite effect on him. As she returned to prayers, he felt an instant hate for her and her God and could not help wondering whether he would have had a better life if he had reached the restaurant on time on that fateful day. He felt a strong urge to try and reset everything in his life.

He was woken to reality by his mobile phone ring. He picked up the phone and heard her daughter's voice at the other end. She was calling to remind him to take his medicine. The strict doctor had prescribed a tablet to be taken every day at 8 PM sharp for a week and his stricter daughter had been calling every day at that time. He looked at his watch and in his bad mood told her that she was ten minutes late and he had already taken the drug. She caught his evasiveness and told him that her watch also showed 8.10, the same time as his, as it has always done. She recollected that she had used similar ploys with her mother to get the jalebis on to the table faster. She told him that every time she looked at her watch she was reminded of him and their moments together. Tears ran down his cheeks as he listened to her words and he felt a sense of fulfillment. No, he said to himself, he would not change anything in his life even if given a chance. After all, he had never tried to do anything unnatural to himself. He had just followed his heart.

Reflection
He was sixty three and happy. He still loved his wife, his daughter, his grandchildren, his achievements and his home. One day as he was reflecting on his life, he recollected the above incidents again, connected them and realized the role that his watch had played. He asked his daughter to repair it for him, which had been out of use for long. When she gave it to him he asked her for the correct time. She replied it was 11 PM and he set his watch to ten minutes ahead of it. And smiled.


So friends, now you should be able to appreciate how much a part and participant of his life was his watch. He got a farewell of smiles because just before his last breath he joked that he was happy to die because the world will remember him as a man who lived ahead of his time. At that moent the wall clock struck ten.

The Crown

We were watching (yet another) film based stage show on TV. A singer/composer, was singing a song which had made him famous overnight, couple of years ago. Someone remarked "by now, how many times would he have sung this song?" And that thought forced me to attempt this.
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Mahesh, the protagonist of our story, is a singer at a bar when it begins. Every evening he and his band entertain the customers with songs from films, albums and every other source of interest to the lay man.

He was quite popular among his audience because he sang to their moods. He sang almost every song that was requested, and any times "ordered", regardless of his liking for them. His friends in the band told him that he was going too far with this at times, but his view point was that the beauty of music, like that of every other art, can be judged only by the emotions it invoke in the audience.

There were the heart-broken lovers who requested sad melodies of separation and he sang them with so much grief that they assumed that he was one among them, and felt relief in company. There were the rich guys celebrating their youth, who requested dance numbers and he sang them with so much spirit that they realized that there may be others happier than themselves, and they felt urged to do something different. There were the dreamy romantics, the nostalgic widowers, the aimless pensioners, the shady men on business, the teenagers sipping their first forbidden glasses and for each of them he had special songs which he poured onto their hearts. In time he began to identify people with the songs, and vice-versa, and he began to suspect that there were only as many different kinds of people in the world as there are tunes.

There was another facet of him that only his band mates knew - he was also a gifted composer. The bar-owner, brought up in a middle class family and hardened by the bribes he paid to get the bar opened, was not too keen on experimentation. So he named the band "nostalgia" and insisted on proven songs. He reasoned his decision further by noting that the bar was a place to reflect, and the late evenings a time to relax, and innovation was out of place and time.

However, his exposure to music was limited, and so the band found ways to fool him which made them happy with mixed and overblown feelings of creative satisfaction, defiance against ban, vengeance for low wages, and freedom from mediocrity and many other protests. The way they did this was by playing some of Mahesh's own compositions in between the more famous ones. They did some careful planning, categorizing each composition by finding the existing songs closest to this by lyrics and by music, and noted down the corresponding lyricist and composer. Mahesh always sang them with voice resembling some known singer. Also making up a fake film name was quite an easy job. Most of the customers in the bar, lost in their own worlds, did not care about such technicalities but whenever there was an occasional question, the names of the creators were ready at hand. More often than not, the reply was unheard and when heard it was agreed upon with a statement "oh yes, I thought so".

Mahesh, on his part, convinced himself with effort that this was not very unethical. The tunes are like the far away lands, he theorized, they've always existed and just need to be discovered. If he does not discover, some one else would do it. Through his compositions he was just trying to discover some tunes which the known composers had in their minds but could not give shape due to some harsh realities of life.

His life went on like this, until fate decided that it was turning too mundane. One evening, the bar had a new customer, whom some people seemed to recognize. Mahesh could not place the face though it did not look very unfamiliar. But what struck him was that this person looked more attentive to his music than the rest. He was drinking and his eyes were becoming drowsier, but there did not seem to be any loss of attention. He seemed to enjoy the music, but without any obvious emotions. Mahesh liked the challenge and tried to locate the man's mood by singing different tunes, but he did not succeed. So when he reached the first of his own songs, he felt slightly uneasy. The nervousness might have affected the voice, for as soon as it was complete; the man stood up and asked "what song was that?” The confidence in the voice shook the band, but they gave their pre-decided reply. Even in his drunken state, the man started listing down names of all films where the singer-composer combination had been involved, and their film was not among them. He charged them with maligning the name of famous musicians, and demanded an explanation. The turn of events brought the bar owner onto the venue, who apologized to the customer and tried to impress him by asking the same explanation using the same words but in a louder voice.

Mahesh confessed that it was his composition and he had made the band play it. He conveyed that the reason for disguise was the bar owner's ban. This seemed to pacify the customer, but before he could say anything, the owner had sent Mahesh out of his job. He was angry, to some extent because he knew who the customer was, to a larger extent because his ban became public, and to a still larger extent because he had been listening to the same song for the past many evenings and had begun to like it and it had given him some pride that he has joined the league of those noble men who enjoy great music.

That night, with his companions at the band practice room, he sang each and every one of his own songs, which were never before sung together. He dedicated each song to some customer of unknown name and address, but of known eyes. It was clear that he was grieved at missing the audience who he loved and this raised thoughts of an appeal in his band mates. But as he went from song to song, they became more and more convinced that he had much better things to do in life than singing in the bar. So they bid him farewell and wishes of a larger and greater audience in future. He reached home and fell into his bed in exhaustion, and saw a dream. The bar was unusually empty, and he was searching for some song which fit the loneliness mood. But as he started to sing it, he realized with terror that he had lost his voice, and he sank into depression. Suddenly the doors opened on all sides, and people started flowing in huge numbers, their emotions, thoughts, words, glasses blending together to set the stage for him. Never before had he seen such big crowd at the bar and he felt nervous, but eager to perform. He was desperately trying to get his voice back. Requests for songs started to flow in from every table, and he wanted to sing every one of them. The bar owner started ringing the bell to indicate it was time for him to start. He felt a strong urge to cut his throat and get out the voice ..


He woke up in tremor and realized that the ring was that of his telephone. He did not recognize the voice on the other side, but got the message. He was asked to meet some Mr. Anand at his residence. He did not get the reason, but nevertheless wrote down the address. He went back to rest until curiosity pulled him up fro bed and put hi out of the house. He had little difficulty in locating the address, and during that search he realized that this man was a film director and this made him more anxious. As he entered the house, he was greeted by the face whose question had cost him his job. His emotions flew from curiosity to rage to guilt to sadness and returned to curiosity. The man broke the silence and apologized for what had happened the day before partly due to alcohol. Mahesh, in turn, confessed that he had the feeling this would happen one day or the other and his only regret was the audience he had loved and now lost.

The director informed that he can offer him a much bigger audience, people in their full senses, with knowledge about and adoration for music, spread all over the country. He had heard the songs Mahesh sung the previous night (one of the band members had recorded the songs without his knowledge and had handed him the cassette when he went back to apologize). Mahesh tried to prevent himself from assuming anything, and seeing this obvious effort the director quickly told him those words which he wanted to expect - "I’m signing you for my next film". As he collected all his senses, which had already begun partying, back into business, he understood that he was being asked to compose a single song in the film, which would create or destroy his career and the prospect of the great audience. He did not know how and when he reached home that night, but from early morning next day he was lost in tunes.

The film industry at that time decided that the story situation he was composing music for, needed a fast song. He was fine with it, for he did not want to believe in such distinctions though at heart he loved melodies more. He worked day and night, aiming for that tune which would set the huge audience ablaze. He composed and rejected tunes one after another. By the time he started his attempt at fine tuning some of them, he had become weak and the makers of the film had become impatient. One day the director and producer walked into his room, and informed him that it was time to record. And they persuaded him to agree on one of the tunes he had with him. He still felt that it needed fine tuning, but they were of the opinion that it would adversely affect its appeal with the audience. He, still unsure about the audience pulse, conceded and the song was recorded in his own voice.

The film was released and the song became a big sensation. For the first time, he felt the expanse of his country, as he got appreciation from places he never heard of before. The media were after him, day and night, and he basked in the glory of the success. . He was hailed as the one who had the greatest music debut of the century. There were the music critics who lambasted the song for lack of purity, and though this hurt him, he reasoned that he had not created the song for them. He began to adore the song along with the masses and started talking eloquently about it and singing it at every request.

In every interview he gave, he sang the song. In every party he attended he had to sing the song. For every stage show he was invited, before an audience which could occupy a thousand bars, he sang the song. He realized there were many more celebrations in his country than he had ever imagined. Festivals, inaugurations, awards, anniversaries, charity, special days, state events and so on. and for every occasion he had to sing the song, The film was remade into any languages and he sang for each of them, increasing interviews and stage shows even more. On many occasions he received requests for "once ore" ore than once and he, in his old habit, almost always relented.

And then one day, he was at home due to a cancelled show, he felt the small wound in his heart which had started bleeding. He had always felt it, but had been ignoring it. He reasoned it out and concluded that it was just boredom, and it was high time he began to concentrate on his next project. This time around he had more say in the proceedings, so he got the required time and ore
Authority to decide which of his tunes would go into the film. He decided to do just one song for the film, without any compromise. The recording was completed, and he was extremely happy. This single song would touch millions with its beauty; He would sing the song on a thousand stages.

However, he was in for a rude shock. The film did not succeed and the song went under noticed. There was some rare words of appreciation fro the critics, but he knew that he had not made the song for them. The media dubbed it as a song which was nice to hear but out of current trends and a rather disappointing one after the dream debut. The television channels played the song only during odd hours. He was never allowed to sing the song completely during interviews, quoting lack of time, though the interviews still started with a request for the entire first song. Parties and any other celebrations had an implicit ban on such songs. On stages, he was still asked to sing his first song, and sing the second if tie permits. To his queries, the organizers explained that people come to such shows for enjoying and forgetting everything else in life, and hence his latest song did not quite fit the expectation.

As days passed and his desperate attempts at getting his favorite composition to the large and great audience were yielding no results, he grew more and more sick.. He withdrew to himself and spent time in reflection. Was he a composer who not qualified enough to know the large sensible audience? Or is it that the audience themselves were ore fanatic than sensible? Why is it that he never met the eyes of a single person in the big crowd even after a hundred stage shows? Why did he sometimes feel that there was lesser number of people for such shows than in the bar, even when his eyes told him the opposite? How can a thousand different throats ask for the same song? A thousand different minds hate the same tune? He did not know the answers, and he was tired of reasoning. He started hating, or discovered his original hate for, his first composition for films and felt terrible. As terrible as one would feel when he realizes that he has started hating his own child. On one of those turbulent nights, he saw another dream.

In the dream, he was a king who had two sons. The older one was strong and ambitious for which he was adored by his father. The younger one was humane and sensitive and was loved by his father. The time had come to choose the successor to the throne, a dreadful time for any king with more than one son. He wanted to crown the younger one, and he reasoned his partiality with the observation that the younger son would spent more time for the much-needed welfare programs than for unnecessary wars. He was however apprehensive of the retaliation from his older son, so he decided to call a public gathering to gather support. He invited all his prajas to the big army ground announcing that he was choosing his heir. It was a huge gathering and the sight gave him comfort, for he knew that his prajas loved him. However, as soon as he announced his decision, and before he could explain it, the crowd had become violent. They wanted a ruler who can give them pride more than food. They praised the achievements of the older son, the one who deserved the throne by birth and deeds, and accused the father and younger son of injustice. The older son, strengthened by this support, snatched the thrown from his father and ordered his father and brother to be sent to prison. Help came from some unknown sources, and the king escaped from prison and sought shelter in a tribal village on the outskirts of the kingdom. He was welcomed with some familiar music and celebrations and he felt quite comfortable. The tribal leader came out with a thrown and as he walked closer towards then king, the latter was more and more convinced that he had seen the man before. The tribal leader knelt down before him and then slowly stood up and while the crown was being placed on his head, the king recognized the hands. They smelled of alcohol cash.

Rebirth

My cousin Shiva Prasad works as a doctor in Ipoh, Malaysia. The following "nonsense" is based on an incident which happened there, when a snake entered his room.


This is the story of a snake,
Who lived beside the lake
And a young doctor whose lure,
Was as much his charm as his cure

The snake woke up on this day,
And soon spotted the first prey
With one bite he injected the spray,
And waited for it to make its way

The victim started running in haste,
And the hero dreaming of its taste
“How long will you run” scorned the snake,
“Before my venom turns you into a cake”

To his greatest surprise and dismay,
And sure he never before felt this way
The victim ran with the same pace,
And disappeared without a trace

He has lost his venom, which made him sad,
For it was the only weapon he ever had.
Life suddenly looked dark and bleak,
Like a woodpecker who misplaced its beak

Then it struck him, that nearby this locale,
There was a man doc, hero of many a tale
Who used snake venom to fight snake venom,
How that could work, he could never fathom

He came to that magician’s house, it was night.
And entered the room with nobody to sight
Hoping that the doctor, resting on the couch,
Had enough of venom stock to fill his pouch

“Ssss, sssss” the serpent hissed in the ear,
And also gave a gentle stroke with his rear
The doctor opened his eyes and saw the snake,
And wondered “is this a dream or am I awake”

Soon into his senses he bumped,
And out of the sofa he jumped.
“Oh naga, why have you come down
I worship your tribe from dusk to dawn”

“I mean no harm, I come for consultation,
I’m a poor snake that has lost its poison
Kindly help me”, continued the reptile,
"Or else my life would become futile”

The merciful doctor took out his stethoscope,
Wondering whether this was a little out of scope
And started the diagnosis for which he was famed
But this was a challenge he never dreamed

In his usual friendly tone he asked the patient,
Which reflected his high emotional quotient.
“How do other snakes call you, do you guys have a name?”
“Yes” answered the snake, “Basmasura is my name of fame”

The doctor started wondering and smiling at the coincidence
Of a Malaysian snake having a name with Indian precedence.
When he suddenly felt a lightning that left him almost lame
As he remembered with a thunder that Shiva was his name

Recovering his senses, he jumped from the chair
And ran out of his room into the open air
“Snake on my bed” he started to yell.
"Asura at kailasa” he wanted to tell.

His therapist friend rushed in to take command.
With a huge club-like stick in his left hand
On the way picking up a stone which he swirled
The doc felt glad, for Narayan was how he was called.

The Trespasser

He crossed the border and entered the new land with no apparent hesitation. He was in search for a territory for himself and knew that he had to violate many an existing border before he can draw one. And this was not the first one he had trespassed – he had been doing this ever since his mother disappeared on that fateful morning.

At this time, the senapathi was on a usual stroll in his verandah, full of energy andenthusiasmsm. From one end of his walkway he could see the border he was protecting and from the other end he could see the palace he was serving. At each of those ends he would stay, stare and dream of the wars he would lead and the prizes he would win. In between the dreams he would walk and think - the thoughts never seemed to converge.

The mahamanthri was lying on his lawn, occupied with thoughts. He considered himself the greatest planner of his time. He would plan a thousand schemes and dream about all the great things that these would achieve for his land. In between the schemes he would get up, shrug and look around lazily - the sights never seemed to influence his thoughts,

The maharaja was resting in his mahal immersed in prosperity. He would alternate between the taste of the delicious meals on the platter and the comfort of his manjal. In between the food and the sleep, he would look out through the window and think of his rule and immediately feel elated – the pride never seemed to have a reason behind.

The protagonist continued his destined walk wondering what he would have to face in this alien place. The senanayak was the first to spot the enemy. He sensed a great opportunity to win accolades, for the enemy did not look menacing at all. He started off in a spree, making loud threatening warrior sounds. He had already started imagining the ferocity with which he would attack, when he suddenly banged against the door and fell in anguish. From the balcony of the second floor of that green house which had no ground, he stared down at the enemy, who now looked strong and confident.

The manthri was brought into reality by the sight of the enemy walking in front of his lawn. He had an immediate problem to solve and ad to put his thousand brilliant schemes aside. He walked up to the enemy and tried to convince him about what dangers would befall him. There was no acknowledgement for his words of wisdom, let alone any response. The manthri could stand the indifference no more. He decided to attack, hesitating in between for a moment before concluding that the enemy was weak enough, and started to run towards him. Immediately he felt the terrible pain on his wounded leg and was suddenly reminded of his throat that could produce only groans and the left eye which could no longer see. He stopped midway staring at the enemy, who looked so young and energetic.

The maharaja had been woken up by the senapathi's groans which he felt was unusual and he looked out of the window. He was surprised at seeing the alien in front of his palace. Why did his prajaaas - the mightiest and the brightest of all – fail to stop this? He himself could attack and kill the tiny enemy, but for his stature. He was the powerful king for whom it was a shame fighting an enemy of no match on the street. He was the prosperous king who had to maintain the dignity of the palace. He had enough of duties on his plate already, and this is not a king’s job. He did not move - he simply stood at the window staring.

The hero, amused at all the happenings around him, suddenly paused and looked back. This looked like a nice peaceful place to stay. He looked at the three pair of eyes staring at him and found more appreciation than hate in them. He had almost made up his mind, when he decided to turn around and look forward for one last time. He wondered what life lie beyond the other border. Maybe ahead are more of his kind, the youthful and the spirited, with whom he can engage in games and adventure. Maybe ahead is a piece of virgin land, where he can rule, where he would find lots of food and love. He could not stand the urge to explore – after all, he was too young for peace. He decided to move forward.

The maharaja, seeing the foreigner move farther away, reasoned how noble he had just acted, allowing a foreigner to pass safely through his country. He felt proud and elated about his rule once again. He could have treated the visitor to some fine food too, for it did look as if he came from a place not as prosperous as this. At this, he suddenly remembered the meal which he had not yet finished and returned to his plate. The bones never seemed to taste so good before.

The sound of an approaching monster on wheels shook the manthri off his statue like posture. He looked once at the monster and then at the young one in the street and rushed back to the lawn. From the centre of the lawn, he looked around with appreciation - as if he was seeing it for the first time. He shrugged off the physical realities, foldedfour legsrlegs and returned soon to his world of utopian dreams.ambianceience around seemed to have been made specially for his high thinking, and almost as perfect as the world of his plan.

Seeing the enemy reach the border, the senapathi felt relieved. After all, there was no harm done. Maybe it was his threats which drove him away. Maybe it was the gods themselves who did it. Such arrogant aliens should not be allowed to set foot again. At this thought, he looked at the closed door and was diving fast into depression when he saw the door opening and his little mistress coming towards him. There was the kindest being he had ever seen in his life, the epiof loveflove and care. He had a last look at the young orphan and rushed onto the hands of his mistress. The hug seemed to be warmer than ever before.

As the street puppy crossed the next border, a few meters away from our house on the 1A Main, Stbed, Koramangala I could hear another crowd of angry royal dogs proclaiming their rights.