It was in one such night that I saw her, her real self her heart and her being. We knew each other much before and may be we were even what could be called as acquaintances but never friends. But that night changed it all, that one night. The night when I sat across from her, the night when our yes met not for the first time but for still the first time. I had known her before but that night when our eyes net under slow burning street lambs we came to know each other. That night under the simmering glow of the electric street lamb, in the bitter coldness of the European winter we met for the first time.
I must have known that the silence we shared was but only the beginning of a life long journey. A journey that would transform our selves and transcend our being. In that silence when our eyes met I saw something in her eyes that was burning, it was not revenge, it was not anger, it was not love and it certainly was not the glow of the hope but it was the reminiscent glow of the despair coming from the ashes of burned up dreams.
It took me aback to a darker time when the whole world was but the four walls of a prison cell for me, the days when my innocent dreams where held captive in the heavy chains, when the wings of my colorful dreams were clipped and all around was just darkness, blood and despair.
That night under the simmering glow of the electric street lamb, in the bitter coldness of the European winter in her eyes I saw my eyes, I saw the same feelings, the same heart break. I was reminded of my death and my consecutive birth. I was reminded of the struggle and the daunting face of death and its giant red eyes staring down through you. Even when I write this my hand tremble with unimaginable fear and my heart beats as if time is scanty and life is terribly short.
That was the night I met myself, my silhouette in that silence I was acquainted with. Hers where the eyes of my past, her gently bosom bore the scars of the same torture that I endured. Her emancipated skin wore like a cheap gown the texture of undignified death. She reminded me of the times I had almost died and the times I almost gave up. The taste of her coarse lips reminded me of the stale and the dirt, the miserable life that I had escaped. And all around me was darkness I could see it crawling under my skin. Like a vicious creature it was coming towards me to consume what was left of me. There I lay in her hands, pressed against her cold body, with my lips just dangling above her sinister lips. In that truth of moment I realized that this is what I am and what have been and she is silhouette. The darkness of the past was but my past and I was as inseparable from it as darkness was from light itself.
That night under the simmering glow of the electric street lamb, in the bitter coldness of the European winter I met me for the first time and there we embarked on a lifelong journey of redemption.
This happened some time back almost during the time of the last angst autumn. In my evening fiestas I used to gaze at the horizon, I used to strain my eyes as it trailed the changing shades of the sky and merged into the darkness of the night. A particular sight awaited me every day without fail and if it didn’t I seemed deem myself a failure for the afternoon. This mellifluous sight was that of a bird, petite and cute beyond compare. With much energy it filled my evening sky with its wondrous twitter. I am from now on going to refer her as a she for I know not how to find the gender of a bird and it is always much cuter when it is a she.
She was so dainty and yet so active, flying around the sky as if in some desperate pursuit, soothing was her voice, her chatter, her far away tweets. Yet unknown to me she had a heart of lead that weighed on her. I never knew then that all her energy was just a pretend, an act of the eloped. It would be some time since then when the bird would eventually come to rest in my palms and we would share much love and many emotions. But going back to the story, by then she had made herself a humble abode upon my little cherry tree, Indeed the cherry tree was not that little but she was a bit little when viewed in the context of the behemoths that surrounded her in the nearby woods.
As days flew by like the leaves in the autumn, she and I had made an invisible connection. I would often feel like she was talking to me when I heard her distant cooing and I would feel that the eternal dance of hers was but for me to watch. True or not we had got connected in a level of existence in a realm much above the one of common understanding. She had become my pet, neither the one that was bound by the materialistic confines of a cage nor the one whose heart and thought was confined by an authoritarian lease, but my pet nevertheless.
But then it had occurred on that day when the fate stood still, as it watched an eternal criss-crossing of destinies when my little bird had got hurt by some despicable evil. Her wings had been clipped, her freedoms curtained, she fell from the sky like a stone on to the heaps of scarlet leafs. She laid there in waiting for my warm hands to cup her and carry her to the warm coziness of my home and to the warmer corners of my heart. There I did dress her would with much love and compassion as if she was my little daughter, that too quiet literally with bandages and ointments that I had. I cared for her, I looked after her and from that day forth till today we spend innumerable evenings discussing and rambling about many a wonderful things during our customary evening siesta.
But then again as she gained my heart bit by bit, I started to dread the reality that was today, an inevitable day that was not in my power to prevent, I would have been cruel and selfish in the past few days praying that she never would get better but then again this was the day for which I had cared for her, the day she could be free once again and adorn my evening sky with her tweeting and ramblings. I know she would never fly far away and I know the cherry tree will forever remain her abode but then you could never tell and this very thought had been haunting me for some time now.
But nevertheless today is here and the day must happen for our destinies were written not now but ages ago. It stood there cupping her in my arms as it ruffled around her petite silhouette. I slowly undid her band aids and held my hands up in the air and with tears rolling down my cheek and sinister thoughts haunting my mind I let her go. I watched her fly away from by hand just like she always did I could feel the instantaneous loss of weight upon my hand. My heart skipped a beat when she skipped a flap of her wings and for that one moment when she appeared to fall my heart leap. But she is the child of freedom, it is in her nature to fly and it was inevitable that she would do that. I always knew that she was destined for freedom, though it is true that I wish she would not but hers is the sky to fly and ones again as I sit back in my chair looking up at the evening sky I knew what we were and how we were to be.
Yashodhara Lal has did a stunning job when it came to writing her debut novel, Its simple, its sensitive and its sensible. The plot of the story can not be disclosed as I will be called a ‘spoiler’ but the essence of the story is this, the life of an average couple in the midst of the modern Indian urban cacophony.
The novel brings out the the collisions between tradition and modernism, the urge to be secure and independent and above all a desire to fit in. The story duly highlights the various emotional upheavals and the various tantrums of a modern marriage and the conscious effort that was needed to make it work every time it threatened to fall apart. As with most couples ‘falling apart’ seems to be central theme that the story revolves around. Incipiently the protagonist gives away the impression that the marriage in question is destined for the abyss and chapter after chapter seems to be strengthening this conception.
The story can never be called a classic or even for that matter an exceptional piece of literature, but I doubt that was ever the authors intention was either. The truthfulness and the simplicity of the story as it moves from city to city and from people to more people remains largely the same. The story though some what predictive is nevertheless very engaging and is a looking glass into the life and times of the modern Indian household. The story is engaging, indulgent and stunningly simple, there are now wild goose chases, no extravagant stunts and certainly not flamboyant turning of odds. Everything is laid down neatly by Mrs Lal in a simple and straight forward narrative.
Just Married, Please Excuse is no Shakespeare or Dickens but that being said it is not a Mills and boons either. It is a sensitive and simple story that has been narrated with utmost honesty and love. The areas where it will score in a readers heart can be easily enumerated as its simplicity and its innate ability to be related to the lives of people that you and I know in abundance. In short it is a story about any metro-sexual modern couple out there in India’s several metropolises.
Ever since I knew myself I was in love with science and its very diverse aspects. The various mysteries that it upheld and the many fascinating ideas that emerged from it. I always found it both interesting and engaging to chase around science and technology. This urge to know has always been as much part of me as anything else, even my passion for writing. Its one side of me that I often do not ponder in my writings ever. The reason to bring it up now is of immense beauty, both in its meaning and its aesthetics. The reason is fractals.
For anyone who does not know what a fractal is the layman explanation is of utmost simplicity. A fractal is anything that is self repeating , That is if we have such an image that when zoomed in represents closely the original image then it is called a fractal. My introduction to fractals happened some years back when I was casually watching a soap opera. I just heard a character mention fractals as his mathematical curiosity and that caught my attention and then I was head over heels into fractals.
Nevertheless my inquiry into the world of fractals showed me many things including that of some very cleverly hidden secrets of the natural world. If you must know, fractals are everywhere around us, Fractal patterns determine how the blood vessels branch and how the snow is formed, one would never imagine its significance in the world. Any how that is not what I am here to tell you, this has to be told to you by a mathematical wizard and I am not one. I am just here to point out to you the wonderful and beautiful world of fractals and I believe nothing could attain that edge than these pictures I happened to collect from the internet.
Yes Mister! What do you want?
What is it that is about you that you make such a ruckus in this room? Is it there a thing that you wish to tell or is it just an undying need for attention that drives you. I understand that what that is talked about here is bit high flying and I expect not all to grasp the truth and beauty of it right away but this mockery is sure uncalled for.
Do you know what you are? You are the class clown, the truly unremarkable joker, the time filler who fills the void with his vibrant costumes and the dumbness of his mindless action. You are not important in fact you are not even unimportant, you are inexistential. Nobody weeps when you die a new masked clown takes over. Neither the nation nor crowd that cheers for you jokes weeps when you are gone. No unfathomable void is created when it is time for your departure. They all will wave you good byes and they all will exchange lot of goods and they will forget. They will forget you and your jokes and you will become one among the many in the albums. Neither you nor your jokes will survive.
It is a shame that you must be present here; it is a crime that you fill seats in this great hall. You are the crime and you should be abolished. The witless glutton that you are in your vainglory occupies all that is high and mighty when in the utopian reality you are who that destroyed what would have been another’s Holy Grail. The only thing that you the big waste of time and resources do manage to is to deny an interested soul a chance at redemption. I call upon god to take away all such worthless creatures; in fact it is just a crime that you exist. You should not exist and you should not be given a chance at life when a worthier life exists that would value what is it that have got when they do get it.
Dear mister class clown all I have is just one request do keep quiet or do bless us with your kind absence and abstinence, for all you do is corrupt the good and spoil the mood. I understand the world is spinning too fast for but don’t you try it to slow it down to your snail pace. Do understand you are the hindrance and the obstacle for what is that I am here and why others are here.
And the class clown cried.