What do you choose?

She sat in the veranda, staring into nothing, playing with the cell phone in her hand. With an audible groan, I lowered myself into the armchair. Only then did she notice me. Quickly, she stopped playing with her phone and unlocked it to start typing something. I settled myself in my chair.

“You worry too much for your age,” I told her, when she refused to lift up her gaze.

She smiled like every day, still looking into the phone “No, it’s alright.”

“But act better!”

I knew she would not give away. If she didn’t want to talk about it, she wouldn’t talk about it. Today though, her smile faded into a serious face. She sighed and looked up away from me.

“The world is not the same, grandpa. It’s not how it used to be in your times. It’s not so simple anymore.”

“That’s fine. But what is the point of your worry?”

She paused for a while and then spoke, “There’s this guy who has been a close friend of me for a year now. We talk a lot. He shares his troubles, I share mine, and we help each other out. We connect, like long lost siblings, you know. But one day, all of a sudden, he told me that he likes me. I had to decline. I I never felt like that for him. He probably didn’t expect it at all. It was hard for him but he said fine, at least let us be friends. I agreed, because he’s a good guy. Because he’s my friend at last. But he still has feelings for me. He’s just a hopeless romantic I guess. He tries to dress all the hurt, but it’s clearly visible to me. And now, it gets more complicated.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m in relationship with another guy.” She told me as if she was cheating on the guy, “And he doesn’t know that. And if he comes to know, he’ll be devastated because he is yet to get over me, it’s a long way to go for him in fact.”

“Sometimes I feel like slapping him, hard across the face, to make him not to be so attached towards me. But it isn’t so simple, is it?” She was thinking aloud, “Or should I tell him? But if I tell him he’ll be badly disturbed. Urgh! This is so hard! Oh god, why?”

She kept her phone down and held her head by her hands.

“Often, you don’t have a choice between bad and good, but only bad and… less… bad. Of course, you choose the least bad, but a choice from two negatives cannot be positive. You have to make the choice anyway. Because some decisions, no matter how hard, must be taken. Postponing them only makes it harder.”

“But what if it disturbs him? Won’t it be a huge heartbreak for him?”

“It will disturb him. He’ll probably even stop talking to you at all.” I said, “But he’ll come to understand you over time. Scarred, beating hearts are anytime better than broken trust. I think you should tell him as it happens.”

She withdrew into silence, trying to solve the dilemma.

“It’s his mistake, actually. You declined his proposal, which means you were going to get away with someone else eventually. If he still chooses to be attached to you so much then little can anyone else do to protect him.” I consoled her. “The greatest freedom you can give someone is the freedom to do their own mistakes, dear. Maybe he’ll break himself further, but you cannot help him. You can only choose to break him with the truth, or break him with the lie.”

“I’m not lying to him. I’m only hiding this from him, I’m only trying not to hurt him.”

“You are not the one hurting him, he’s hurting himself!”

“Urgh!!” She let out a groan of frustration. “What do I do?”

“What do you do!” I repeated her question, amused at the games of guilt. “You do what you feel is the ‘least bad’. What is the ‘least bad’?”

She thought for a moment, guilt falling over her while she did.

“Somehow, I cannot bring myself to the decision to tell him. I… can’t explain it right now. But I think I won’t tell him. We’ll see when he finds out. When I’ll tell him why I did it, he’ll understand. I can’t do anything about it right now.” She talked like she wanted to give up on its worry. Her expressions, gestures spoke the opposite though.

“Fine, I can understand,” I assured her. “Go ahead and let me know how it turns out. Everything will be fine.” I railed back in my armchair and closed my eyes.

I could hear her restlessness in her voice, “But… I still don’t feel good about this! Nothing can be fine now. It’s all ruined. How will it be fine?”

“Some things will be fine and some things will not be. But you’ll be strong enough to stand all of them. That is how. Love, or life, is like an ocean! You’re only going down a small stream of water. Stop worrying, my dear! Allow yourself the freedom to do some mistakes.” I patted her shoulder.

First published on Shreyas’s Blog

Look!

I was sitting in my bed, alone, all lights out, trying to make sense out of everything that was happening with me.

A light lit up in the room with the sound of vibrations. I picked up my phone to silence his call, and noticed the time. It was almost an hour past midnight. The call timed out and the phone withdrew into darkness.

Exhausted, I threw the phone beside my cushion and stared at it, unable to stop thinking. My head was buzzing with thoughts. He called again. I sighed, and declined the call.

“Just pick up the call, goddamn it!” He messaged, “I’m outside, let’s go for a drive.”

I stared at the message for some time, and finally made up my mind.

He waved at me as I walked out of the door. I tried putting up a smile. I knew I was gonna keep quiet the whole time, and it would probably bore him, but what could I do? I knew I was messing everything up, but what could I do?

We drove out of the street and moved on the highway. I expected him to ask me something. Like, what are you thinking, why are you so quiet and all. But he didn’t say a word. I was relieved.

I leaned my head against the window glass and stared at the passing trees and motels blankly, thoughts blaring in my head. He turned in to a lonely road up a hill.

At the top he stopped the car and turned off the engine. One streetlight and the thin moon was all the light we had. We got out of the car. I looked around suspiciously. Some street dogs slept at the wall of a small temple. One of them gave out a bark. He whistled and shushed him, and looked at me.

I looked back at him, helplessly. Only he could understand what I was going through, but also there was nothing he could do to help.

He smiled reassuringly, looked up at the sky, and pointed.

“Look!” He said.

First published on Shreyas’s Blog

Happy

Yes, sleep is relaxing. But sometimes, it is much more than that. In days of stress, sleep becomes your drug and you literally get addicted to it. It takes you to a world of silence where your big huge troubles and you yourself are non-existent. But sooner or later the ecstasy does end and you wake up, vulnerable and desperate for one more dose, and then all the problems come crashing down on your mind like fierce waves from a broken dam. In that Tsunami, any relaxation that you gained from sleep is wiped out like a tiny wooden home.

Either I did not have any dreams that day or I do not remember them; I’m not sure. But like out of the nowhere-land my eyes opened into the reality – into my bedroom. Wishing that I could sleep more, lot more, I sat up in my bed as if I had woken up from a coma and tried recalling when I had gone to sleep. The sunlight and shadows of window grills that spread all over the room signaled it was late evening. I turned my head to look around the room, hearing noises in the kitchen. I assumed it was Megha cooking something. At her end of bed our daughter Antara slept peacefully in her cradle, wrapped in layers of blankets and joy, unaware of the noises of the crooked world. I looked at her, jealous of the peace that she held in herself. As I observed every rise and fall of her chest with every breath, that jealousy began changing itself, changing into a very friendly and positive feeling; but before I could be any happier, memories of the previous day occurred back to my mind like red-eyed wolves sieging their prey in the dark.

I pulled the blanket away with a frown and went to the bathroom to splash water on my face.

It did not help much. My head had started bustling with multiple voices: of people and of my own, telling me what I was expected to do, what my duties were, how I was failing them, how it was going to create more problems soon. Each voice blabbered loudly and carelessly, stressing me more and more with every word of it. I sat down on bed again, holding my head and trying desperately to listen to the guiding voice for prospective solutions.

But that one voice was nowhere in there. My inner voice was deadly silent. I guess that is what stress is, or that is what incubates it. You know you are stressed when your inner voice has disappeared. You have to get help from someone at such times.

Megha smiled through the hissing sounds and steam as I entered the kitchen. I smiled back and sat down at the dining table, trying to not to show my worries on the face.

“Hey, I had made some tea for you, but your oversleeping cooled it.” She said, pointing out to a cup on the table.

I stretched my hand, caught hold of the cup and poured it in my mouth.

“We have a micro-wave Saaket!” She said, looking at me in disbelief, “at least heat it up a little!”

“It’s okay.” I said in a low voice and leaned my head on my hands to sleep on the dining table.

“Saaket, are you okay?” I heard her through my closed eyes, “You’ve been sleeping a lot lately.”

“Umm.” I said, refusing to lift up my head.

I felt her warm hand on my arm. “Saaket, is everything alright?” She asked, checking for a fever.

“Yaaa!!” I almost shouted and lifted my head. The voices in my head were more than enough for me. I could really use some of her silence right now. “It’s… work…” I tried to cover up my raised voice, but Antara woke up with a loud wail. Megha gave out a sigh to stretch her patience and went in to nurse Antara.

I leaned back on the table.

“Why don’t you go around for a walk?” She said as she came out holding Antara in her arms, “some exercise helps to raise spirits.”

Fed up with her jibber-jabber, I lifted up my head and stared hard at her. She stood with her back towards me, busy attending a wailing Antara in her arms and hissing spices on her stove. Frustrated, I stormed out of the kitchen, pulled a pair of jeans up my legs and began to walk away from all the freaking noises.

“Saaket!” Megha called out loudly before I could close the door. With a wailing baby on her left arm and a list in her right hand, she was hurrying towards me, “Can you please bring these groceries while coming?”

I rammed the door hard before I’d hear her voice again and ran down the stairs into the street.

It was already dark. Lost in thoughts, I was sitting alone on the bench in the municipality garden. My frustration was gone with time like the fading noises of children playing in the garden after sunset. Time is the best medicine sometimes, I thought to myself and stood up to go home.

The memories that a few hours before appeared like hungry hounds were now more bearable.

“It’s all your fault! I’ve been telling you the same things over and over again for months now, Saaket. The ratings are going down like never before!”

“I know, I know! I’m trying my best to revive the show and create some excitement with whatever I have! But you have to understand, KK. No-one can drag a script after its end.”

“People have been doing it for years and there are many who can do that again for me. If you cannot take the ratings up, tell me so, I’ll hire someone else.”

“We both know why you hired me and not them in the first place. They can never take the serial where I have taken it.”

“Then where is your magic now? I’ve put my fortune in this Saaket, and you have to dosomething or I’ll have to cut your salary now.”

“… Why don’t we end this serial and introduce a new one in its place? I can guarantee you very good…”

“For a serial to be successful in India, the most important thing we need is a good connection between the cast and the audience. This cast has a fantastic connection with the audience! If we introduce a new serial, we’ll have to re-establish the whole thing again! Do you realise how much investment will be risked while doing that?”

“Well, I say why don’t we take that risk? Maybe it’ll give better returns too!”

“Okay, Saaket, you know what? It’ll pay the most of all if you leave the job of decision making to me and pay some attention to your own job. If you want, make some decisions regarding your style of direction, regarding your team-mates or something that you understand. But don’t you teach KK how to make his decisions.”

Krishnakumar, or KK as he preferred anybody to call him, was once again trying to convince me that I was failing. I knew that. But I also knew that he was failing as well, that the Indian Television channels, and me as well, needed more of practicality in content and less of Drama. But how could KK understand it after all? Because he thought he was the know-it-all. In a frank opinion of many people who knew him, all he understood was the tinkling of currency. I knew far less of that language than him, and that was where we both were stuck. Unable to understand each other.

To avoid thinking about all that again, I turned my attention to the street around me. I had walked that street for years; but today as I gazed at it, a little more carefully than every other day, memories of college days crept up from the back of my mind. They came like how college mates greet you at a reunion: arrive all together, calling your name loudly, and giving you a hard tight hug first of all.

I remembered how we four amigos used to walk to high school and college every morning, joking and laughing all the way through. Me, Shantanu, Lance, and Kanhaiya; we had once been the walking-and-talking department of theatre and drama of our college. I always liked directing, Kanhaiya was a fabulous actor, and Lance magically managed to write down a great story that would then rule almost all the drama competitions for that year. Shantanu did nothing, but we would have never made it to the competitions without him paying for all our vada-pavs, chais and other petty expenses. Also, not to forget his valuable tips as a keen audience at every rehearsal. He had the eye and ear to appreciate art.

We had planned to start careers in the same field after our pointless degree courses but for obvious reasons, things did not go as planned. Fate had a different plan for each one of us. In the end, fighting alone against all odds, be it earlier with parents for a different career choice or now with the producer and wife, I was the only one of us four who had ended up in the entertainment industry; making what was probably the worst choice of all.

Swinging between the sweet-n-bitter memories, I stood for a signal in front of me to turn red so I could cross the road, when a white Audi SUV came to a halt next to me. As the window pane of its passenger seat lowered, I saw its driver – half-bald and dressed in formals – staring at me with a smile of recognition. I smiled back and looked away, trying to grip back the memories. But the man in the car would not look away and my link to the memories was broken as well.

“Hey, Saaket! How are you doing man?” He called, still smiling.

It startled me. “I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize you. Do I know you?” I asked him.

“Yes, you do! In fact, you know me very well.” He said with a broadening smile.

I tried hard to recall, but could not guess who he was. Not many people I knew drove in an Audi, and those who did would not stop by to have a chat with me at a signal crossing. My face must have been as blank as his car.

“It’s okay, I’ve changed a lot, I know.” He laughed and extended his hand towards me for a handshake, “Sorry to puzzle you like this, I’m Shantanu Malhotra.”.

I was dumbstruck! Shantanu Malhotra had been so fit and handsome, and was supposed to be busy in Canada running his multi-millionaire father’s business! What had brought him here? What had changed him so much in all these years?

I could not hold back a smile as all the features of his face, one by one matched with those of the Shantanu I had known, and after a moment or two I pulled myself out of the surprise; laughing, cursing and shaking hands with Shantanu amidst honking traffic.

“Get in the car.” He said, and I hopped in.

“Where have you been man? When did you come back? Why didn’t you come meet me at home?” I fired questions as Shantanu shifted gears.

“Yeah, I know, lots of questions and I’m gonna answer all of them. But first, let’s go to some nice place and get something to eat or drink.” He said, “If you are not busy, of course.”

“No, no, not at all.” I said and relaxed in my seat; looking at Shantanu, still in a bit of shock. “But, really, what happened to you man?”

“I know.” He smiled, turning the wheel.

I remembered the Shantanu from our college days. With curly hair, fit and tall structure, and a car of his own, every second girl of any nearby college had her heart secretly craving him and every other guy had his head secretly cursing him. His aggressive, careless nature and rich father were all that was required to enjoy college life heartily. And to tell you the truth, nobody enjoyed their college days as much as Shantanu did.

Everyone passed to the last year, of course except Shantanu. I, Lance and Kanhaiya had been constantly telling him to study but he would never listen, so it was obvious. Since he had a family business that would get him by even if he did nothing in life, nobody expected him to study actually. But it had never occurred in our wildest dreams that he will fly a million miles away, without giving us any idea about it or leaving a single contact behind.

And then he had appeared before me, suddenly out of nowhere, after almost 6 years!

“So, where are we going now?” He broke the silence.

“I don’t know, you are the driver, it’s your treat, you decide!” I said.

He laughed heartily, “You are still the same old guy, isn’t it? Still looking for every chance to get free treats from me!”

I too joined him in laughter, “Saale, your treats for last 6 years are pending with me. The earlier you start repaying, the better.”

He laughed a short laugh, then descending into silence and I immediately regretted having said that. But what was said was said now. Also, it was true.

He turned the car towards our engineering college. I knew exactly where he was planning to go. In a few minutes we were at Chaudhary’s hotel: where we had probably spent more time than at our college.

The hotel had changed as much as our lives. The plastic tables and chairs were replaced by the good-looking, sturdy, metallic ones. Chowdhary himself was replaced by his son, and the hotel, expanded into an adjacent shop now had a separate a/c compartment with bar.

During our college time, we would enter in a group of at least four, shouting and laughing. Old guy Choudhary would then smile like he had missed us all day, and often join us in our jokes and talks. But today, it was just me and Shantanu. We entered quietly and sat down at a table, looking at all the changes. While Shantanu looked at the renewed Hotel, I still had reasons to doubt if I was really sitting with Shantanu.

He had grown fairer, clearly an effect of spending days in air conditioned offices. His curly, long hair was gone and what remained was a short hair, receding rapidly. The attitude that he once wore had changed as drastically as his clothing style, and a round belly was beginning to try to break free from the clutches of a tight belt. But the most noticeable thing of all: he wore peace. He now wore maturity and stability, unlike in college days when he would be running constantly, from one thing to another as if searching for something, but never finding it.

Maybe that was why I was not angry at him even though he had left like that. Perhaps he had made the best choice of us all. I was happy for him.

Shantanu ordered Scotch for himself. I ordered a cold drink and a Gobi Manchurian.

The waiter went away and we sat in silence, again.

“So what have you been doing these days?” Shantanu ignited back our conversation.

“Nothing much. Just directing a TV serial.” I said.

“Wow! That’s great yaar! Nice to hear at least you three guys made it into the film industry.” He said in excitement.

“Not three of us,” I said calmly and his excitement faded away, “Only me.”

He fell silent, as if building up courage to ask, “What about Lance and Kanhaiya then?”

The waiter came and settled a peg and a soft drink before Shantanu.

“I heard Lance is in Bangalore and Kanhaiya is in Delhi.” I said.

“Don’t tell me they got themselves an engineering job like everybody else!” Shantanu exclaimed.

“Well, at least they have got a good job!”

“What do you mean?” Shantanu poured the drink for himself.

“The work here in industry is pointless, really. I’m sure they are doing better than me.”

Shantanu stared at his glass as he swiftly but very carefully poured the drink to the full, without spilling out a single drop. I stared at the bubbles fuzzing up in his drink.

“You are mistaken,” he said and raised the glass, “Cheers!”

I clinked it with my bottle of thumbs up, “cheers.”

He took a sip from his drink and set it down to continue, “You cannot imagine the jealousy I feel when I see someone like you, working in the field of their interest.”

“And you, my friend, cannot imagine the jealousy I feel when I see someone like you, riding in an Audi of their own!” I laughed, and he joined me.

“No, seriously, had I lived my life a bit differently in my college days, I would have been working with you probably.”

“I have no different story to tell. You think life is good on my side, but believe me – there are a lot of headaches, or rather tumours, here.” I said, gesturing wildly with my hands.

“Yeah, there are headaches on my side too,” he said and lifted his glass, “but it’s just that those on your side are totally worth it.”

I did not know how to counter that argument.

He put the glass to his mouth and gulped the drink, not stopping before the ringing of his phone disturbed him. I suddenly remembered I had forgotten mine home.

He rejected the call and set the phone down on the table.

I thought about how I would inform Megha that I would be coming home late. She would be so worried, especially because how I had left.

“Er… Are you married?” I asked hesitantly.

“I didn’t have time for my best friends, you think I’ll have time for marriage? Hah! What about you?”

“I’m married, my daughter will turn two years old soon.”

“It’s good to hear man, I’m happy for you.” He smiled, and put his drink to his lips.

I could not do anything but smile back.

He sighed, “Anyways, it feels so good to meet you. You know, it has almost been a year since I have had someone to talk to, about something other than business. It feels really nice to meet you again.”

As I smiled back at him, he met my eyes and then turned around to signal the waiter for another peg.

The waiter brought to the table another peg and Shantanu stared at it, wandering in an alley of thoughts. I looked around, trying to search for a topic that would keep the talk up for more than a few sentences and amidst all these thoughts, his next sentence shook me up.

“I’m sorry,” He said in a low voice.

“What? Why?” I was baffled.

“For leaving like that, without giving you guys any idea about it.”

I did not know what to say. Sure I was partly angry at him, but whatever he had done was for his own good! For a moment I considered asking him why he left like that, but I did not want to regret another question.

He continued, “The morning after the results came out, after we celebrated your success at final exams, I found my father at home. He had heard that I had failed, and was furious with me. I was sure that I would get a lecture from him, but he did not yell a word at me. Unlike any other day when I would be forced to change my schedule to have food with him, that day hewaited for me to have our breakfast together. None of us spoke a word all through the breakfast and he left soon after.

“All my credit cards were blocked, and he would not take my calls. What he had left me behind though was a letter that I cared to open only after half a week. He was leaving me alone with our bungalow, a ticket to Canada, and a job appointment letter in our company there.

“Shocked, I landed in Canada with my passport and a bag of clothes. The days that followed were aimed at setting things right with him, convincing him like any other time and return back to India. But he would not meet me and I had no money to come back. So to win his faith, I started working at a small job he had chosen for me. I saw hardly glimpses of him from his busy schedule now. I knew that he would get convinced eventually and then let me go like every other time, but I almost never heard from him since then. And the next time I got to see him was only at his funeral.”

I was shocked and dumbstruck to hear the developments.

Shantanu continued speaking with tremendous guilt, “I had given him a heart attack. He probably knew it way before it happened. He had made all necessary arrangements. Even after all that I had done, he had handed his whole empire to me without any rules or restrictions. I had two options before me: be a spoiled brat and loose everything my father had earned for me, or leave my past behind and make myself into a son that any father would be proud to have.”

“I’m so sorry to hear it man. Actually I’m the one who should apologize. After you left, I thought you didn’t need us anymore. It seemed like you had found the happiness in money that we could never give you. I felt jealous and angry and that is why nobody ever tried to contact you.”

He sat in front of me, drunk and sad, refusing to look up. His glass, full of the drink that he had ordered, laid untouched on the table.

“Money can hire people for you, but not relationships.” He spoke, “and nothing teaches you that better than a divorce.”

“But you said you are not married?” I asked.

He smiled gloomily. “I was, before she left me. You know how it is with us businessmen, like how Lance had written in one of his scripts. They give all the money but none of their time.”

“That should not have happened.” I didn’t know what else to say.

“Now, I have a flourishing business but no family to spend its profits on, no friends to go on a vacation with. All I have is a hope, that everything will be fine.”

Shantanu paid the bill and we stood up to go. “It’s all still like the old days you know,” Shantanu smiled with drunk eyes, struggling to walk straight, “I’m the drunk guy, and you’ll have to take the trouble to drop me home.”

“Yes! It is indeed!” I smiled.

We drove towards his old family mansion in silence; on roads and in car alike.

“Hey, Shantanu,” I said, staring into the road, “I’m sorry if I said anything wrong today.”

Shantanu didn’t reply. I looked at him, he was sleeping peacefully in his seat, like how Antara would in her cradle.

As I approached his home, an elderly servant opened the gate. Carrying Shantanu on our shoulders, me and the servant made way to Shantanu’s room. As he pulled out Shantanu’s boots, my eyes caught hold of a photo frame besides Shantanu’s table; featuring of four college boys.

“Sir, would you like to stay over tonight?”

“No, thank you. I have a wife waiting for me at home.” I smiled back.

“I’ll find you a rickshaw then.”

As I sat in the rikshaw, the man held my arm, “Come back soon, Sir. Shantanu Sir needs some company.”

As the rickshaw ran towards my home, I ran a hand through my hair. They were not as long as they were in my years of youth, but I was glad they were still there. The cold, late night breeze was making them dance and shine in the streetlights. Grateful for how the day had turned out to be, I got to thinking about it all.

Very often, life turns out to be totally different than what we plan it to be. The dreams remain locked behind the bars of reality. But that does not mean the life is pointless. The struggle of dreams for their materialization continues. Even behind those bars, the dreams do survive. No matter what happens, we hold on to the little bit of happiness remaining in our lives, and we live on. When we think we do not have happiness, we look at those with pains much greater than ours, and we find the courage to live on! Life is not always about winning. When things go wrong, life is about surviving; until we win. Everyone makes mistakes. But our mistakes don’t define us. What defines us is how we choose to deal with them.

Megha opened the door, sleepy faced, and turned around to go to the kitchen. I stood at the door, waiting for her to turn around and call me inside.

“Aren’t you coming in?” She asked as I expected.

“Aren’t you sleeping?” I asked her back, “I had the key.”

“Antara is keeping me up.” She answered like any other day, started setting up the food and turned the questions back on me, “Where were you?”

“I was busy meeting a co-founder for my new film production company.”

First published on Shreyas’s Blog

Why are smiles beautiful?

They say silence is unbearable. I don’t agree with them. Silence is bearable, what’s not bearable is the thoughts that it contains. Make peace with the thoughts and silence will be your long-known friend.

I had been sitting amicably in quiet since a while, before he spoke.

“Smiles, are terrible.” He said.

“Why do you think so?” I asked, knowing his uncomfort.

“One smile hides, like, thirty two sorrows behind it.” He threw his hands wildly in air to show his frustration about it.

I smiled, and he frowned out of his temporary hatred towards smiles. “They are also beautiful, you know,” I said.

“Oh really,” He said, mocking me.

I turned my head to look at him, still smiling comfortably in silence.

“Will you stop smiling?” He raised his voice.

I laughed heartily and said, “Ask me why, and I will.”

He looked at me like how someone looks at a crazy person and asked, “okay, why are smiles beautiful?”

“Because, one smile can hide, like, thirty two sorrows!”

For a brief moment I stared deep in his eyes. He was dumbfound, never having expected this. So I turned my gaze away like a winner. He sat there, again in silence. I guess this time it was not uncomfortable though.

Embrace? Pain?!

Nothing tortures young, passionate hearts like rain.

It was a heavy downpour from the grey skies since early morning that day. Cold was roaming the surroundings in breezes every now and then. After the lunch in a warm home, everyone was fast asleep in their furry blankets. Everyone, except her.

I saw her through the living room window when I came downstairs for my evening tea. She stood alone and quiet in the verandah, her hands resting on the railings and eyes staring hard into the downpour.

It had hardly been half a year since her breakup. Her parents were searching a man for her now, but it was not working out very well. Her parents were mad at her for rejecting one boy after another, and their worry drove her crazier, even more than all of our family. But she chose to wrap it all up in her cold silences for a long time and then take it out on some faultless person in a cloudburst of anger and frustration.

I pushed open the main door by my shoulder, carrying two cups of tea. “Why are you so obsessed with judging people from a distance? Why don’t you believe in them first and take a leap of faith instead? Go a bit further than the first meet, talk with them, try to get a bit more acquainted.”

“I’m fed up, Grandpa,” she said calmly after a sigh, “I’ve done it once and I’m done with it. I’m done pledging my heart to someone and losing them. I’m so fed up that I don’t want to let anyone even come close.”

“It’s not the same with everyone.” I placed one cup before her and put the other to my lips.

“More or less, it’s the same. I don’t want to risk it anymore.”

“And what will you do? You can’t just keep quiet. You have to do something, you know.”

“I have enough. I have friends, I have family, and I am earning enough. I do not need anything more.”

She was only reassuring herself that the little cocoon that she had weaved around herself was all that the world contained. I sighed in response. I knew she was saying it only because she was too afraid, and sad.

“I know it hurts you a lot. It makes me sad that I cannot do much to reduce it. But whatever I’m telling you, please trust in it for once. Have a big heart, and I promise you all will all be fine.”

“Somebody once told me, those with the biggest hearts suffer the most.”

“Everybody suffers dear,” I told her, trying to dissuade her. “The only difference is that some choose to inflict their pain on others in form of frustration and cheating, and others learn to do the opposite.”

She kept quiet for some time. She knew she was wrong, but both of us knew she had not chosen what she had become. “You cannot keep a pain to yourself. It’ll make you suffer more, I know.” She spoke, her voice wet with guilt.

“Not if you know how to embrace it.”

She scoffed, “Embrace? Pain?!”

“Yes. The pain is your guest and you must treat him with all due respect. You hate him from your gut, but you must give him a corner of your heart to live in, and provide it with the warmth of compassion.”

She kept looking into the street silently, but ears turned to me.

“Pain demands to be felt, so feel it, embrace it! That’s the only way!” I told her, bobbing my shoulders.

“Will it make the pain go away?” She asked, looking at me hopefully.

“No. The pain lives. But you have one less enemy to fight against.”

She looked away, silent for a moment as if thinking about what I was telling her.

“It’s not that simple, is it? If it was, everybody would be doing it and everybody would be happy.”

“In some way or another everybody is doing it. That is how everybody survives. But yes, it’s quite hard to follow or to be explained briefly. But trust me, it’s simpler than trying to push the pain away and hating yourself when it comes back to you again.”

She sighed. I wished some of her pain would leave her with that sigh. But that was not to happen. I had to do my best to advise her and help her out of the hardship.

“Do you know why some people have big hearts?” I asked her. She kept looking into the rain, ignoring my question. “Learn to respect the pain, learn to accept it. Big hearts do not suffer most. Rather, it’s the other way around: those who suffer a lot and yet choose to endure and embrace it, grow big hearts!”

She turned to look at me and I smiled back at her reassuringly.

The rain too seemed to agree with it, reducing to droplets before gradually fading out. Clouds parted to make way for faint sunrays and traffic refilled the streets. She lifted the cup of lukewarm tea that I had brought her and took her first sip.

I turned my gaze from her to the street and breathed in the prevailing chill of the rain – to embrace the melancholy of memories that the showers had revived in me.

What will you write?

She had not come out of her room since yesterday afternoon, when she had gone in tearfully. Nobody had noticed her absence in the hush and rush of her cousin sister’s wedding.

“Hey, what’s going on?” I asked Soha, her cousin-cum-best friend, as she was coming out of her room with an unfinished plate of breakfast. She battled with her thoughts for a moment, trying to decide whether she should let it out without permission.

“Better you ask her yourself,” Soha said morosely and went away.

I walked into her room. She sat on the balcony floor with her legs folded against her chest, staring at the rising sun with sorrow-stained eyes. Hearing my slow foot-steps, she quickly wiped her tears. I sat down in the armchair in the balcony and rested my chin on my walking stick, looking towards her. She did not say anything but kept staring into the sky, trying hard to hold back her tears. Without disturbing her, I quietly turned my head to look at the sunrise.

“Why do they do this?” She spoke after a silence, her tears now turning into anger, “first, they will play with your feelings, get you attached and then they will abandon you and walk away like nothing ever happened.”

I did not say anything, only turned my head to listen to her.

“Forget it, it was my mistake in the first place; I was never meant to be loved, I should have known that.” Her anger now calmed down, only to turn into guilt and grief as she broke into tears, “Why is God doing this to me? What did I do wrong?”

I stood up from the armchair and sat beside her while she sobbed hard, holding her face in her palms. I let her cry for some time, patting her back to make her feel better.

“What happened?” I asked after some time in a compassionate tone.

She was still crying uncontrollably. With great efforts she held it back to talk to me. “He left me Grandpa. He had said he’d be there by my side, whenever I needed him, but he left me! ‘It won’t work out, a long distance relationship won’t work with me, I’m sorry.’ That’s all he said, Grandpa!” She said, mocking him. A dam full of sorrow burst again as she asked me, “How can a ‘sorry’ undo all this, Grandy?”

I put my arm around her. “I know, I know, it cannot.” I said, trying to console her, “But you have to wipe those tears now, and come out. You cannot hide like this in your room, while your cousin is getting married out there, can you?”

She continued sobbing in my hug.

“I know this is hard time for you, but please try to understand. People are waiting for you out there. We’ll sort this all out as soon as the ceremony is over,” I assured her, “I promise, Okay?”

She knew I was right. She wiped her eyes and spoke, in a dry tone, “I can’t bear all that, grandpa. Few days back, I had been just as happy as Neha, but it’s all smashed up now – right in front of my eyes. Seeing all that happiness outside will remind me of him again and it will only break my heart more.”

“But Neha’s wedding will happen only once, dear.” I tried convincing her again, “What will everybody think? How bad will she feel if you weren’t there at all in her fondest memories of today?”

But she seemed absolutely convinced about it. “I won’t come out, not before this ceremony is over.” She pleaded, “Please?”

I sighed. “Okay,” I said, still holding my hand around her.

Sometimes, we need not talk. There’s not much a good advice can do. Rather, just the company of someone with their silent support helps more. She probably needed just that. She loosened up a bit and rested her head on my shoulder.

A warm tear rolled down on me and I was suddenly reminded of the old days, when she was only few months old. I would lay her head on my shoulder as she would wail loudly, and sing her a lullaby into sleep. It happened more than often when both of her parents would be busy at work.

I wondered if today’s situation was any similar to that.

“Mom and Dad would be furious if they got to know anything about this. They think I’m too young to do all this, and whatever I do is sheer stupidity.” She rubbed her nose and looked at me, “Why aren’t you mad? What makes you support me so much?”

I smiled, “I do not care which love is real and which love is stupid. All that I care about, right now, is the heartbreak, and heartbreaks are always real.”

She smiled and went down to keep her head in my lap. I patted her messed up hair that she had colored specially for the wedding.

“Didn’t sleep all night?” I asked, looking at her swollen eyes and tired face. She ignored my question.

“He was special, you know. He made me feel special. We could have worked things out, why did he leave like that?” She asked.

I did not have an answer to that. She stared into the ceiling for some time, thinking of possible answers to the question and then looked at me, expecting an answer or a confirmation to any one that she had thought of.

“I’m sure he had his reasons,” I said, “everybody has.” She kept staring at me, expecting more. “Life doesn’t always give you reasons. Some questions are unanswered, some answers are incomplete and you have to live with it.” I elaborated.

Unsatisfied, she looked back at the ceiling.

“Maybe, he will tell you someday,” I said, unsure of its truth, but it comforted her.

“But we were, like, meant for each other! It felt like it was written already!”

I smiled. “Sometimes, nothing is written already. Instead, you have to write it for yourself. You have to choose what it will be. Like how it is now: you have to decide whether it has ended or are you going to try to convince him a bit more. This is the part where you have to write. And… sometimes yes, it is written already and you are meant for each other,” I paused before saying, “but only for a short time.”

“But, he was my ‘one’, you know. How can it… end? With him?” She said, emphasizing important words and her desperate need for answers.

“It’s life, dear; it always ends, sooner or later. We hate it when it ends, but the best that we can do then is accept it and move on. For you it was still a relationship, only a year old maybe, I don’t know. But I have been married to two women in my life. I do not know which one of them I have loved more, and yet it has ended, both the times.”

She raised her eyebrows high and looked at me with a gaze one reserves for a person who has achieved the impossible, while I smiled.

“So what did you do then?”

“I wrote my part. I moved on with life.” I said, and all of it flashed before my eyes in a split second. For a moment I has almost lost myself into the flood-waters. She kept quiet, reassuring herself of the ages old lie that she could never do it.

“Allow me to tell you a secret,” I said, in very casual tone, “but you must not tell it to anyone, not even the person about whom it is.” Her expressions told me she needed anything but a third party secret right then, but telling this one was necessary. So I continued despite her negligence.

“Neha was once deep in love with another guy.”

She took a moment to get what it meant and then promptly got up from my lap, completely unnerved. “What??”

“Yes,” I said calmly, “not many people know about it, but it was a serious matter.”

“What happened then?”

“What happened is she got over him, and found someone who loved her!” I laughed.

“She loved some other guy, how can she love her husband now?” She asked, “Isn’t that cheating?”

“Lying, is cheating. Getting over, is not. And why can’t she love her husband, with her full heart?”

“But… soul-mates bond for life! She will ruin everything! You only have one soul mate, and if you marry someone else, then it is, cheating!” She almost shouted, trying to pour her heart in the argument.

She wanted what she believed to be the best for her cousin, just that she was still a teenager. I held her hand, and waited till she calmed down. “And who said the very first one is ‘The One’?” I asked, knowing her answer.

“It just happens, soul mates are bound to come together!”

“Let me give you a more realistic theory to your idea of love.” I said. “Love is universal, they say, and you will agree. Then how can it be restricted to some ‘one’?” I asked, quoting the word with my fingers. “Maybe, we do not have some ‘one’. Instead, we simply have ‘some’, and every one of them has a time frame in our lifespan. We can love anyone, literally anyone, once we accept them in our heart; and in the same way we can get over them as well. Some stay longer than others and with some we are not so lucky, but time and space hardly matter when it comes to love, after all!” I winked. “That is what explains the random breakups around the world, that is what explains one king fully loving his multiple wives, and that is what explains one person torn between two loves in his life.”

She was speechless at the wild bombings I had launched on her beliefs.

I smiled and held her hand in mine. “Don’t worry about it right now. You will find it all very hard to accept, being your first time in the matters of heart. But I’m sure you will get over and find your love.”

Her face changed immediately into disgust at that sentence. “Everybody says that, everybody advises me to move on,” She spoke, “but I just can’t bear that thought! A person who has had such an important place in your life, you can’t just wipe them out! You should not wipe them out. What love is it if you have the cruelty to wipe them out of your heart like that?”

“The question really is that, can you really wipe him out?” I looked in her eyes as if expecting an answer from her, “Like he never ever existed?”

Both of us knew, she had none. She looked at me helplessly.

“You do not wipe them out,” I explained, emphasizing the word for her, “But you remember them! You be grateful to them for the experiences that they gave you. You respect them for whatever good they have caused in your life and no-one can ‘replace’ them, as such. So you always, Love them! But you also accept that they are not yours anymore. You accept, that their memories will only hurt you for now, and you choose to refrain from remembering them again and again at least till the heart-break heals.”

She looked away in silence.

“Are you understanding what I am saying?”

“Yes,” She answered. “Maybe I need some time so I can pick myself up and really think on all that you have said.”

“True. It cannot happen overnight.” I said. It had taken years for me too.

“But Grandy,” She said, her eyes welling up again, “why can’t it stay the way it is? Why does it have to end at all?”

I sighed and looked at the sun. It was one bitterness I had found myself hating about life as well.

“Some people are like lighthouses, dear. They are kind, enlightening, and special; but not meant to be around forever. Every lighthouse has a port of its own and it cannot leave its home. And others like us, who are ships, we don’t want to leave that port. Lighthouses maybe used to saying goodbyes, but for us they are painful. Someday or the other though, we have to say them anyway, though. Goodbyes are hard, goodbyes are not fair, and there will be tears in your eyes when you say them, but make sure you say them with a smile as well!”

Tears were flooding down her eyes as I spoke. I knew none of this was useful for her in that moment, but it was going to help her stand up back in the days to come.

“He ruined my life, he ruined all of it. He does not deserve any of this kindness!” She said, angry at him with a heart flooding with teenage love.

“Maybe. But you do!” I urged, “In old age, you do not regret the people you lost. Losing people is a part of life. But you regret the goodbyes that you could have said but never did.”

She was crying, tears flowing down her lowered face. I had made my point, in both the matters.

I patted her a reassurance, took my hands off her shoulders and stood up, gripping my walking stick. “The decision is yours, and you are free to do what you like, but we all are waiting for you outside.” I told her and began walking to the door.

“There is nothing more beautiful than a heart that has been hurt by Love, but still believes in it. Remember, Heartbreaks are painful wounds, but all wounds heal. Till then, share your pain with your loved ones. If you are in pieces, pull yourself together, fill those pieces in heartbreaks of others, heal hearts! Never stop believing in Love, because Love is much more than Romance. Hatred is not the cure to heartbreaks. Love maybe a malady, but Love itself is its only medicine.”

Later, that evening, everyone had tears in their eyes. The bride, like any girl of modern days, was smiling broadly, wiping everyone’s tears and teasing them for being cry-babies. But nobody cried like her that day. She hugged the bride tight with red, tearful eyes and the bride was utterly surprised why she was crying so much.

I did not know how much of her tears were from the heartbreak she had just sustained. But what was it that I could do more? Getting over him and believing in Love, she had to do it all by herself. I could only help her, advise her, support her and wish for her a good life. After all, for me it was a story that was already written. For her, it was story to write on.

A Little Blue Bird

A boy opened the door to a room full of several large cages, hanging from the roof. A hundred birds in the cages chirped and fluttered as he entered. His hands warmly held between them a little blue bird with a red crest. The boy had found him on that fine morning lying helpless on a footpath under a tree, and the mother bird was nowhere to be seen. The bird was healthy and unhurt, but so small that he was unable to fly. So the boy had decided to add him to his collection.

The boy surveyed all his crowded cages and carefully put the new bird in a cage which housed fewer birds than others..

The little blue bird walked in through the door as all other birds in the cage looked at the new entrant with curiosity and welcome. “Hello everyone!” The new bird said to everyone merrily, and he was accepted with warm replies.

As the days passed, the little bird settled himself in his new-found family. He grew up with his fellow new-borns and learnt to make small flights with them. They all woke up with the sun, enjoyed plentiful water, fruits, and friendship together and finally returned to sleep at the end of the day. Happiness was everything there ever was.

One day, as the bird stood watching the sunset out of the window of the room, he said to his friend, “Why does the Sun not live in a cage?”

The innocent question caught the attention of all the birds in the cage.

His friend laughed, “His life has a purpose: to serve the world with his light. So, he cannot be bound in a cage.”

“Don’t our lives have any purpose?” The bird asked innocently.

His friend shrugged, “I don’t know.”

Eyes of the little blue bird sparkled, “I want to be like him, without any cage!”

An elderly bird who was sitting at the other end of the cage heard him. “You can’t,” he spoke loudly so the little bird, as well as others, would hear him, “No one can.”

The blue bird looked at the elderly, “Why not?”

The elderly bird smiled at the little bird and looked away.

He knew the kid was too small to understand, childish mind does not know reason. Some days went by and he was proved true.

“Let’s break this cage open,” The blue bird said one day to his friends.

“What? Are you crazy?” One of them had a good laugh at him. Everyone followed, with similar reactions. But the little bird was serious.

“It’s not that easy, kid. It is a metal cage. Not like our nests, made out of twigs and sticks.” The elderly bird too laughed with all.

Days passed as the birds in the neighbouring cages gossipped about the incident and eventually replaced it with newer ones. But the little bird only grew more and more serious with every sunset and sunrise that he witnessed.

“The door is not that strong! Have not you seen how the boy opens and closes it with a flick of his finger?” He questioned.

“Look at the boy, and look at yourself! His one hand can squeeze you to death!” Another bird told him.

“Then let us all try together!” The bird raised his voice, encouraging everyone, “we will definitely succeed!”

“We are not interested to break our heads, little fool,” The elderly bird frowned and threatened him, “and for your life’s sake, stop talking that rubbish.”

The little bird looked at the elderly bird, and then turned his gaze to the door of the cage. Every other bird in the cage opposed him, called him mad, and cursed him in rising voices, but he listened to none of them.

The elderly bird laughed a demoralising laugh, “Get ready for a black and blue head!”

The little blue bird looked at the cage-door with eyes full of determination, and before anyone could stop him, started running towards it. In no time, he dashed the cage-door with a loud noise and fell to the floor – of the cage.

The lock of the door had not moved even a bit!

“It, won’t, break!” the elderly bird said curtly, and ran to pick him up. “You’ll only break your head!”

Friends of the little bird held him and stood him up. Rubbing his head with pain, the little bird looked at the door. Everyone told him to not to do it. “We are all happy here! Why are you doing this fool’s business?”

It was true. The boy took good care of the birds. He gave them timely food, sufficient water, and kept the room airy. The birds were happy. The Boy’s cat occasionally came in and stared at the birds with a drooling mouth. But the boy never left a chance for the cat to treat over a bird. What was the point in breaking out of the cage?

Maybe it was not a good idea, the bird thought, and returned to his corner with his friends.

A few more days passed. The bird tried convincing himself. But his wings were growing stronger with every passing day. The small cage could not contain his flights any more.

He came to the centre of the cage, and looked around. All birds were busy, flying in the small cage. “Hey! Come here, the boy has brought us new fruits!” One of his friends called him.

“Maybe they are forgetting what they are meant to do. Let’s show them their destiny!” The bird thought.

This time, he mustered up more strength than earlier and ran to the door. The cage rocked violently from side to side. All the birds screamed and fluttered in fear.

“What are you doing?” The elderly bird raised his voice in anger and frustration.

“Let’s all do this together. Let’s all break this cage and be free!” The little bird shouted, his eyes glinting and dreaming, as he prepared for another dash. “The skies are calling, the winds are waiting! Come on, you guys!”

“Are you crazy??” Another bird shouted at him.

“We are safe here in this cage, under the boy’s protection. Who is going to protect us outside?” Someone else questioned.

The little bird smiled, and looked at the bird, “The strength in your wings!”

“You, are, Mad!!” The elder bird scoffed, “Why are you so keen about going out there while everyone is safe here?”

The little bird frowned and said, “Because it will be something new! Newer than flying in the same little cage, and eating the same tasteless fruits every day. Friends, no doubt that the boy keeps us happy and safe. No doubt he gives us the best fruits which we may never get so easily out there. But the fruits that he gives us are never tasty and will never be tasty. We all know that. Because they lack the juice of our hard-work! It is that happiness of earning our own food that awaits us outside.”

Everyone fell silent.

“Listen, son,” the elderly bird finally spoke, “Some Choices may seem really simple, but they risk your biggest assets. And in this case, it is your life! Don’t take such a foolish decisions, you’ll only die.”

“Yes, and it would be a horrible death,” the little bird smiled and said as he returned to his corner in the cage, “but I’ll make sure that my life would be worth facing such a death.”

Everyone looked at each other’s faces, trying to figure out who was more right.

“God gifts wings to everyone,” the little bird thought as he fell asleep, “but you cannot fly unless you cultivate your own dreams. You cannot fly unless you give up the fear of falling to the ground.”

The next day he was back to the centre of the cage, before dawn. The other birds were fast asleep, relaxed in security but chained in fear.

A sudden, whacking sound woke them up in a cage rocking side to side.

The door was broken open. Everybody ran to the door, looking for the little bird. But the he was nowhere to be seen. Someone spotted him, lying on the floor, motionless.

“Is he dead?” A little bird asked his mother, and everyone felt pity for him. They tried calling him, but he was stone-still.

“Maybe we should go down and bring him back?” one of the new-borns said.

“No!” The elderly bird looked at him with rage. “No one moves a step out of the cage. Let him be there,” he said angrily, with a tone of victory in his voice, “let everyone know the cost of freedom! The boy will take care of him.”

No one would go against the elderly. No one would break the customs, not even against someone’s life. One by one, they all returned to their corners, with sad faces.

And then the sun rose above the horizon with a smiling face. His first rays caressed the blue bird and neatened the curl of his red crest, as he slowly but effortlessly, opened his eyes. Slowly, bearing the pain that ached his body, he stood up and shook himself into charge. All the pain seemed to fall off from his body.

“He’s alive! He’s alive!” A young bird from the cage screamed in euphoria. All the birds in the cage ran back to the door as he smiled and reached the window of the room with a flapping sound of his wings.

He turned his head to look at the sun. It was beautiful. There was no looking back now. He flapped his wings graciously and dived into the lovely arms of the air for flight, gliding through with pride and happiness.

Daughter’s Daddy

The decorated wedding hall which was bustling moments ago with people draped in luxurious garments and sparkling jewellery, was now almost empty. Except for a few close relatives and friends of the bride and the bridegroom who were busy clicking each other’s pictures, everyone had left; when I saw him sitting down on one of the chairs under a fan to soothe his sweating body. As he blew a breath to his chest, he let open a button of his Kurta to allow some air and leaned back in relaxation. With his handkerchief, he wiped the beads of sweat on his temple and unknowingly messed up the tilak.

It was his daughter’s wedding. He had been busy since almost three months in the preparations of the wedding: delivering the invitations, choosing the decorator, deciding the menu, haggling with people, and doing all necessary arrangements. Being a marriage of two middle class families, wedding planners were out of question. Of course, there were relatives, friends and the new family who were always ready to help; but that was never really enough to give him a time-out. It seemed that as he sat down on that chair, he had let go of all the tensions that had troubled him for last months. In all the hassle, he had hardly had time to breathe, and today in that relaxed moment under the fan it had dawned upon him: His only daughter was getting married.

With eyes full of memories, he raised his gaze to look at the stage where the pandit was completing the concluding rituals. His daughter sat before the holy fire, calm and quiet, dressed in a bright red saari and artworks of glistening gold. ‘For the first time in such an attire probably,’ he thought. But however she was, she was his beloved daughter and it was time to part ways now.

She was that odd kind of girl who had never had a collection of teddies. Instead, as a child, she collected stones of strange colours and shapes from the treks and camps she attended. Cargo pants and football team t-shirts were her favourite outfit for outings, and she demanded the last thing anyone could imagine as a present on her 21st birthday, a gear-bike! Thanks to her dad, she could not go to all the treks, was compelled to wear churidaars on family functions and did not get that dream-bike. Although, she did buy one later from her own salary.

“Dad, I and my friends are having a night-out. Can I go?” She would ask all of a sudden.

“When?” He would ask without looking at her, busy eating his plate of dinner.

“Now! I mean, tonight!” She would answer in smile and sparkle.

He would look up, and reply with a blank face, “Didn’t you have one two days back?”

“No! That was weeks ago, Dad!” She would exclaim.

“No.” He would deny the permission, and bury his face back into the dinner.

She would plead, tell him that there were no boys in the group, that they won’t go far, promise him that she would be back by the time limit he set, and a hundred more things, and when he finished his dinner the permission would be granted.

Of course, sometimes he had to stick to a No.

“Wait and watch, you are going to get her spoiled.” Her mother would whisper in anger and fury, after she had left.

“She is not a child, al-right. She knows what is right and what is wrong.” He would reply calmly, trying to convince an inconvincible person.

“Oh yes!” She would say, burning in anger and flooding with sarcasm, “and so do you! I’m the only fool in the whole world!”

Giving up, he would continue his dinner in silence.

“She won’t help me cook, she won’t help me clean, but she will never miss helping with the grocery shopping!”

Irritated, he would speak up, “She’s doing something, why can’t you just let her do it?”

“She’s not just doing something, she is doing it so you will allow her for more and more night outs.” She would say in a tone of a patient teacher teaching a slow student.

Being a girl, she was socially burdened with many ‘No’s, and she would often try to heave them away with furious arguments. Many would claim it as the behaviour of a spoiled teenager, but at least it was justified in her own eyes. He had to do a harder job. In the little time that he got to spend with his family, he had to see that she got to enjoy as much as she willed and deserved, while ensuring that the society won’t raise any doubts on her character and his relationship with her won’t be damaged. He would often deny her the permission, without giving any reasons; and then try to justify his actions to the darkness as he slept.

Her kind, friendly, helpful nature got her many friends, including me, to enjoy her adventures, and often even family approached her for little daily issues before troubling anyone from amongst the men. Be it a late night puncture repair or early morning arrangements for any ceremony, she did every job with enthusiasm: leading the people with orders in loud voice, quick decisions, and hasty completion of one task after the other. She was a tomboy, and sitting down like that at the holy fire, calm and quiet, was the last thing she would ever do.

‘Life is full of sarcasm,’ he thought and sighed, standing up to meet one more late coming guest who had appeared at the hall entrance, ‘victories bring tears and defeats bring celebrations!’

Her victory would be when she would finally convince him to allow for an outing and walk out, smiling like a proud warrior. But today was his day to be a proud man. He had completed all the duties that the society expected him to fulfil as a father.

It was less of any relaxation and more of a sadness, though.

He had hardly moved his gaze from her the whole evening. He wished he could cry, for tears are the best messengers of love. But the masculinity often wipes them dry and the love remains secluded. It was the very thing that he feared, that she would go away, and never understand his love.

Everyone proceeded towards the food mandap for the lunch ceremony of the couple after all the rituals wound up. Throughout the ceremony, everyone laughed merrily. Mixing my laughs with everyone else, I stole quick glances at him. He stood smiling with his hands folded, but quiet.

Like any celebrated marriage, the ceremony came to an end in no time. I stood at the car, as she met everyone. Although marriage did not mean a farewell to her family forever, many eyes were battling the tears. As expected, her eyes however were dryer than the Sahara and face devoid of any sign of sadness. Just before sitting in the car, she met my gaze. I looked into her eyes briefly and turned my gaze to look at her father. She too, turned back to look at him.

He smiled. She walked quietly towards him again, and hugged him tight. His smile widened as he embraced her, and many more smiles emerged on the teary faces. But when he pulled her away, even I could hardly believe my eyes!

Tears were rolling down her cheeks. The composure that she had managed to stretch all day was tearing into pieces. His eyes moistened as well, as he spoke to her making an effort to smile,

“Hey, what are you, a cry-baby?” He wiped her cheeks and assured her, “Hey, it’s a happy day! Isn’t it? Mom and Dad won’t be stopping you from doing anything now, hmm? And you’re crying? You should be happy now, you can do whatever you want, go wherever you wanna go, and come back whenever you want! You’re free now, isn’t it?”

She looked up into his eyes for a moment as tears filled her eyes again, and then collapsed back into his arms. “But I don’t want to be free from you, Dad!”

He held her close to his chest as she cried her heart out.

That day, on the day when I married her, I taught the to-be parent and father in myself a very important lesson: ‘Every parent takes maximum efforts so he can give his child everything that she or he desires. However, no matter whether the parent realises it or not, his children always make an effort to understand him, to help him. Not all of them may succeed, not all of them may meet the expectations, but that does not mean that they don’t care!’

Circumstances change, people change, standards change, but the feelings and affection never do. Today as I stand besides my daughter for her wedding’s reception arranged by professional wedding planners in an air conditioned hall, the same fear has got me sweating in my thousand rupees suit: “will she understand?”

I know I have just preached you all about the answer for the same question. But I can’t help it. It’s natural, you know; everyone knows the answers for the questions of others but when it comes to our own questions, we are all bozos.

Which death would you prefer?

“Which death would you prefer, the one with old age, or a sudden, unexpected one?” He asked me, with a straight face.

His elder brother had died in a road accident a few days back, paying for the mistake of some drunkard. In the days that followed, he had grown noticeably silent. I was afraid that the incident would cause some long lasting scars on his mind. Being a 17 year old, he was mature enough to stand up to such shocks of life; but it was a young mind after all. His silence worried me; it seemed like the silence before a storm.

But that day, as I was sitting on the open terrace under the night sky, he came and sat beside me. “Grandpa,” he asked me after a few silent moments, “which death would you prefer? The one from the old age, or a sudden, unexpected one?”

I looked deep into his eyes, trying to figure out the thoughts that brought him to this question. He came to me either when he couldn’t find an answer with anyone else, or when he had a thread of strange thoughts to discuss.

“What do you mean?” I asked, unable to trace his thoughts.

In those silences that I had been worrying about, he had done a lot of thinking about this question. In his eyes I could see its elaboration coming up.

Staring at the night sky, he continued with pauses. “These stars, shine in the sky, every night, without missing a single day. There’s our own, large and huge sun, shining brightly every day. But nobody values him, or the stars. Nobody ever seems to care about them. Nobody even bothers to look up at them when they rise in the sky. Because they are always there, and will always be there, no matter what.

And then, there are shooting stars and comets. They shine only for a moment, but they catch every one’s attention and awe, because they are rare and will die out in a matter of moments! I would prefer a death like that, sudden and unexpected.” As he talked, a glow lit up in his eyes, for the first time since his brother’s death. I was glad that it didn’t take too much time.

There was a moment of silence as I took in what he said. He was still staring at the sky; not yet out of his thoughts, and quite uninterested in my answer. “It’s not about the kind of death that you would prefer,” I brought him to senses, “But the life.”

He looked at me, his expressions showing the interest and questions he had about my statement.

“Attention, fame, glamour, and reputation! It is very common to feel that they are all what we have to achieve in our lives. But actually, life is more than just that.”

“That is not an answer to my question,” He said.

I smiled. “You see, sun never gets much ‘attention’, or ‘importance’. But that does not reduce his ‘worth’! He keeps on shining, because he knows how he blossoms the life on earth. Whether he gets fame or does not, the life that blossoms because of him won’t change a bit.” I took a pause, so that he could understand what I meant. Pointing at the stars, I continued. “These small stars that shine in the night sky, one might think of them as useless objects, but they guide the lost sailors in the sea. Ships find their route using the stars which seem useless to everyone else.”

He turned silent. After a brief thinking he questioned, “Then why don’t they get the attention and fame like the shooting stars and comets? They are the ones who actually deserve it!” “Because life is not all about attention!” I smiled, and he frowned.

“Then what is it about?”

I exhaled, and looked at the sky. “It is, in fact, about satisfaction.” The stars above shone brightly in the darkness. “Even after the fact that he does not get the attention he deserves, the sun continues to shine every day without sulking. Do you know why? Because he is satisfied in being one of the reasons why the miracle of life could blossom on earth. And looking at how rare life is in the universe, that satisfaction rules out any craving for attention! The stars that are light years away from us, I don’t think they even know about how they help the sailors and ships! So what happens, if out of a misunderstanding that their lives are worthless, and out of a foolish craving for attention and fame, these stars start committing suicides to look like the shooting stars? Who will then guide the sailors?” He looked at me, his eyes hinting a sense of understanding.

“Son, we can never know the impact of our lives on the world, or on other lives around us.” I patted him on his back. “As for the attention and fame, that is just an illusion. It never affects the impact you make. And sometimes, the impact that you can make is more important than the attention you get. So your job is to continue, no matter what. Because who knows, you maybe a guiding star, to a life form billions of kilometres away!”

He looked at his feet in silence. As expected, that glow in his eyes was gone. “Then what about the comets and shooting stars? What about the undeserved attention they get?”

I shrugged, “Well, that attention has a purpose.” He seemed to be getting impatient. “And, what is it?” “To show the stars how fragile their life is, and inspire them to use it wisely!”

His questions stopped, which meant he had understood what I wanted to tell him.

But he was restless. Maybe he needed some time to accept it.

“So,” I smiled at him mischievously as I raised my left eyebrow and placed my hand on his shoulder, “which death would you prefer?”

He turned to me to stare for a moment or two with a blank face, and then smiled. I smiled and patted on his back.

He would accept it soon though, I was sure.

Him and Her

He Loved Her.

She had a huge friends circle, but he had only one good friend. That one friend of his was a good friend of her too, and thus, the only link between them. She invited his friend for almost everything, and his friend invited him. He wondered if he had any place in that large group of hers.

Whenever she saw him, she used to smile broadly and shout, ‘Hiiee!!’ He replied with a smiling face and a ‘hi!’. She used to smile back more broadly. Sometimes he considered saying something more than just ‘hi’, but didn’t know what to say, so decided against it. He wondered if he would be able to hold his smile back even if she didn’t greet him someday.

He rarely spoke when in a group, but sat quietly and listened intently to what everyone had to say. She often made jokes on everyone, and once in a while, on him too. He enjoyed them, but would get hurt when she made a mean joke. But he never stopped her from doing that, or made jokes back on her. He was afraid it might offend her. He did not care about the jokes. All he cared about was her. He just stole glances at her, hi-five-ing, rolling on floor, laughing… and smiled.

When someone played jokes on her and irritated her, she would almost break into tears. That would not stop others from teasing her, but it troubled him a lot. He felt like shouting at everyone else for being rude with her and consoling her with a hug. But he could never muster up the courage to do so.

She rarely liked his pics on Facebook, or commented on his sketches. But whenever she did, it made his day. ‘But that doesn’t mean anything, does it?’ he thought.

None of the two ever talked their thoughts to each other. So how would they know? How could they expect the unexpected, after all?

She wanted to like all his pics, and felt like commenting on every sketch he drew. ‘But that would not look naive,’ she thought.

She never felt bad when someone played jokes on her. But she sulked, so one day he will speak up, one day he will ask everyone to stop it and put an arm around her!

She never liked it when someone played jokes every now and then, but she herself made jokes on everyone. She tried hard to make him laugh, but he’d only smile. Then, angry, she would make a bad joke on him, so one day he would sulk at her and while making amends for it she would be something more than ‘just friends’ with him. To catch his eye, she made silly jokes appear big ones and rolled on floor laughing. But he only smiled.

As for her ‘Hiee!!’, she said that to everyone. But for her, no-one would match his smile. And of course, the ‘hi!’. She wondered if he noticed her smiling back more broadly when he said that.

She could have had a huge friends-circle. But he was unmatched. No-one could ever be what he was. She wondered if she had a place in his compact circle of few friends, but she never stopped inviting his friend.

She loved Him.