A few words

Sukaran Thakur

Foreword

I have been scribbling these words that are collected here for a long while now. In fact the earliest of the works here, Pain, was written way back in 2007 while the latest, Giving you wings to Fly was written in 2011. When I go through my work, I can see how I have changed in the way I perceive the world. And that is what writing has always been for me, a way to express what I perceive of the world. Most of what is written here has been inspired be people and places that are authentic and fact. However I have tried my best to cover them with a veil of fiction.

Sukaran Thakur August, 2011

Contents

Giving you wings to Fly 1 Dancing in the Moonlight 25 Say the Word 42 My Experiments with Death 51 A Hundred Million Suns 56 Farewell 64 The Making of a Symphony 72 Chaos 78 Edge 82 Remembrance 87 Pain 92 I Just want to Live before I die 96 Fear 100 Dear Ann 104 Shimmer 108

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Giving you wings to fly

Dedicated to the unknown woman I saw once, I hope you get your wings too. 1. It was only the second day of college and I was already running late, the second day of the third session of college. My last year, I would have walked around with an air of seniority, but I was too busy getting screwed over with teachers who had already started teaching. The days when teachers spent the first week getting to know their students and the likes were gone. Now it was more straightforward, the first classes were devoted to knowing who all had passed the exams. Knowing what books to buy and how many lectures will be added to the time table. It was going to be a hard year and with the looks of it, I had absolutely nothing on the horizon that had even the faintest ring of being fun. Its a funny feeling, being in the final year of college. You know there is absolutely nothing left for you to invest in, theres little that you can do besides work up a good academic record. Friends become acquaintances and there is little hanging out. The immediate juniors are too bored of you or too boring for you and the fresh batches are well, way too young. And life moves on in a comfortable bracket with little activity. It was a cloudy morning and I was almost praying for a slight drizzle, cool off the air, settle down the dust and give me something pretty to click. I had been fascinated with rain ever since the accidental shot of a rain drop turned out to be beautiful. I was busy looking up to the sky, trying to gauge the darkness of the clouds to see if it would rain or not when my chain of thoughts was cracked open by the honking
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of a sharp horn. Now this was odd, vehicles were never allowed inside the college, and I was half hoping to see my college principal in the car but when I turned around, I saw that it was a white sedan and it was chauffeur driven and there was a girl sitting in the back seat, quietly observing the college. She had an air around her, and even though she was well enveloped in the tinted windows and AC air of a car that apparently had the authority to drive right in, I could see she had an air around her. I stepped aside and the car drove on right up to the department block. I saw the chauffeur step out and walk around the car to open the door for her, I would have stayed on to see her, but I was getting late and so I walked off. I was busy doodling while the teacher explained the intricacies of Real Numbers Analysis when the table vibrated and I saw my cell phone flash a text message. Come out, NOW! it was Nida. And She was famous for always pulling people out of their lectures so that she had good company to hang out with. I would have hated bunking lectures for attendance was precious to me, but she was good company and so I replied back, Out in 5. I looked up at my teacher who was passionately trying to elaborate on the intricacies of Mathematics. I raised my arm and she nodded, I need to go to the Auditorium Maam, the ECA Trials are going on and they need me there. For a minute I was scared shell catch my bluff, but she didnt and she smiled and asked me to leave the class. I stepped out and saw that the clouds had darkened but it hadnt rained yet. I pulled out my phone and called Nida, asked her where she was and I ran off. She was slumped in her usual place near the canteen, a glass of orange juice in her hand, busy misusing BBM Services on her shiny black-berry phone. She looked up and smiled her trademark broad smile. Nida was instantly recognizable, she was fair, incredibly fair
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and she had slightly brownish hair, the kind that you see in Hollywood movies. Not particularly tall, or imposing, she was still the kind that you would listen to, because she spoke sense, mostly. Oh and she had slapped two guys in college who had tried to ask her out on a date. So yea, she was fun, all in all. She waved and I walked over and dropped my bag off my shoulders and on the floor. Whats up! No classes? she spoke in her usual chirpy accent. A bit rich coming from the girl who pulled me out of a class? No? I said as I sat down next to her, Oh cmon! I know you, you would never leave unless you got attendance, so cheap you are. She said and started sipping on her juice again, as she somehow managed to BBM her friends with one hand and hold the juice with the other. I normally wouldnt have mentioned it, but I wanted to for some reason, and so I did. I asked her if she knew of someone who had access authority to bring their car right inside the college. No way! Maybe you saw our principal she replied, only if our principal is a pretty young girl who looks like a first year kid. stop checking out the juniors dude, they are too young. I spent the next ten minutes explaining to her how I wasnt really checking her out and how I dont know who the woman is anyways. She laughed and we shared some more random small talk and the time continued to flow by. We must have been sitting there for a while, when she finally jumped up and announced the fact that she needs to leave. I smiled, hugged her a good bye and she left, I started walking back towards the main gate when I saw the same car again. The chauffeur had just closed the door and now was walking towards the drivers seat and just like that, they left, she left.

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2. I didnt see the car again for another three days or so, I had not had a clear look at the girl in any case and so I had absolutely no way of knowing if I had seen her in those three days. I assumed not. On the fourth day, I saw the car already parked outside the department when I entered the college. I slowed down, because I wanted to see her face, she didnt step out. The chauffeur walked around the back of the car and then opened the boot, and took out some kind of device, I couldnt see clearly. As I stepped closer I saw what it was, it was a wheelchair. He pushed the wheelchair close to the door and as he did, a couple of girls appeared from nowhere and huddled around it, and pulled her out. She settled into the wheelchair and then the tallest of the lot of women there started pushing the wheelchair and I saw them wheel her away. I kept trying to look at the group, to see where they were heading to, but I just couldnt because my class was in quite the other direction. Suddenly my wonder had turned into grief, and I was sad, upset, worried, all for a woman I did not know. I kept thinking about how it would be like if I couldnt feel my legs, if I was paralyzed. And the disturbing thoughts kept me, till the end of the lecture, at the end of which I walked out with unsteady steps. I was lost in my thoughts when I looked up and saw that coming right towards me was her. Sitting in her wheel chair, being driven by a group of three other girls. She was dressed in a simple white tee and dark blue jeans. I did not see any kind of jewellery or accessories or anything. She was simple, elegant, beautiful. It hit me how beautiful she was only when I saw her from that close. Her nose was curled up in a frown. Her eyes were distant, lost and her lips were drooping. She didnt seem to be particularly happy with the entire set up. But it didnt hide exactly how beautiful she was.
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Her face had those sharp features. Like a well sculpted figure line. Her hair was open, but restricted by the fact that her head was resting on the wheelchairs back. Her body looked fluid, even though it was enclosed in that frame. I must have been staring for a while, but luckily they didnt notice. As she went away, I stopped, turned around and tried to gather how it must have been to live like this. I turned around, and started walking towards the library, and I muttered to myself, shes too beautiful for this. Instantly I felt guilty, I felt disgusted at myself. Quantifying someone to be just what she looked like, what she was limited by. I felt disgusted at trying to stereotype, I felt disgusted for being so shallow. I turned back around, and she was gone. That night it rained, I went out and sat under the bus-stop shed. The rain sounded like someone was battering hammers on the tin roof, and I could see the drops slide off the edge of the roof and drop down into the puddle. The night was dark and the warm yellow light of the street lamps was being scattered around by the wet tarmac roads. As I sat there alone, I started thinking of her again. I couldnt really figure out why I was thinking of her so much, there was something about her. Something, unique. 3. I was running on the road and the wind was howling in my ears, I heard the loud beats come thundering from the clouds and suddenly I was choking, I couldnt breathe, the sounds became louder and louder and suddenly the thunder turned into a guitar riff and the sky started blinking with lights and I opened my eyes to see my bedsheet wrapped around my neck and my phone ringing, a little too close to my face.
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It always amazes me how the brain can integrate whats happening around you into your dream, so fluidly that the flashing screens light lit up my dreams sky and the beats of my ringtone became the thunder of the clouds. I rubbed my eyes and saw that it said Punk calling. That was my best friend, and as much as guys would rather talk to hot blondes at night, we liked crashing each others mush-call and drop in a little block. Tonight however I had slept early and his call had woken me up, harshly. Why is your phone free? I was hoping Id be on waiting, and be added to a conference call he spoke, as I answered the call. Just my luck, I was hoping Id sleep early dont be a bore, get up! dont be an ass, and let me sleep? tell me something fun, saw someone pretty? I wish I was still in college, I want to see the first year women The words suddenly jolted me up, and I was wide awake in minutes. I did have someone to talk about, and come and think of it, I was talking to just the right person too. I shot him the story, about how on the second day of college, I saw a girl get herself drive in to the college. And how I was certain shes a typical too rich for her shoes girl, but turned out that she was actually doing this because she was limited to a wheelchair. I told him the entire story, as much as there was to it. I gave him the unabridged version and he gave me an unabridged edit. Please dont say you love her I didnt say that, when did I? I asked bewildered, I was intrigued by her, not smitten. Yea, you didnt. Not yet at least, dude, women like these? They come with baggage.
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I felt the disgust rise up my throat like the sick feeling of bile rising up when you are about to puke. It sickens you and you know theres nothing you can do to stop it. Baggage is a strong word, dont you think? See, I get it, you like her. Shes pretty, and shes confined to a wheelchair. Makes you wonder, awww, look at her! Shes so pretty but nobody will love her the way she deserves to be loved. I wish I could do something, and then you will be all caring about her, and take care of her when she needs you and youll walk her around and spend time with her and after a few months it will hit you, just how many things you cant do together. Suddenly the fact that you care for her will take a backseat and the fact that there are so many things that you just cant do will take over. Suddenly she becomes the woman with baggage. Youll have to take care of her not just for the initial few days when it is actually nice and good. When you are trying to be at your best and are trying to impress, you will also have to take care of her, and the fact that she cant walk the way you do when you hate her, when you fight, when you cant love her anymore, you need to understand I disconnected the call. I couldnt take it anymore, it was a little too much for me, I immediately put my phone on Flight Mode. I would apologize tomorrow and tell him how my phone ran out of battery. As of now, I just wanted to stop listening to what he was saying. He made a lot of sense, but, I didnt want it I guess, or maybe it just wasnt good enough for me. But I wasnt done, I needed to talk to someone, I needed to clear my head. I looked at the watch, and saw it was around 1:30 in the morning. I grabbed a pair of jeans and slipped them on, locked the door, and walked out into the night.

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The air was chilly and I wanted to literally hug myself, because I felt so cold. I walked on hoping and praying she was still awake. About three blocks away, in a dingy little room, there stayed someone who I trusted and believed in. Aliya. She was one girl who I could be with, and be myself with. As I walked towards her little rented room, I saw the guard of the colony take a stroll, snapping his stick on the ground every few steps to remind everyone that he was out there, taking care of them. I wished there was some kind of a mental guard who would do the same for my brain. I was hoping Aliya would be able to take the role up. I saw that the lights in her room were still switched on, and that the curtains were tightly drawn. I knocked on the wooden door and she probably glanced from the window. I only saw a slight figure move, and the door was open in a second. She stood there, not too tall, dressed in a pair of white pyjamas with weird red prints and white stringed sleeve less tee. Her hair was tied up, she looked, like she was home. I smiled and she frowned. A little too cold to be wearing this, no? I was hoping shed inch away to let me come in. a little too late to be at my doorstep, no? she snapped back. I really need to talk Aliya, be nice. And her face erupted into a smile and she let me in. her room was like a portfolio of her artistic skills. Walls covered in murals of sorts and taped sketches everywhere. She seemed to be working on something, but the aisle had been covered before I entered in. she asked me to sit down and immediately put a small pan on the stove. Im making tea, you look like you could use some she said in a voice that put me on ease, every time. As the water boiled, we were both quiet, waiting for the other to say something. Finally the tea was ready and in two earthly cups she got the tea. I cupped my palms around the cup and looked straight into her eyes, because I needed to know she knows Im serious here.
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Theres a girl I said, slowly. Theres always a girl sir, always. I smiled and started narrating the entire story to her. I added every minute detail, including the conversation that I snapped shut my phone to. She laid back on the bed with her back taking rest on the wall. Her legs were crossed and she was twirling her hair, listening intently. When I was finally done, she took a deep breathe. Then she spoke, You know, we have a teacher. Her legs dont work, shes handicapped. She uses the wheelchair, but she never lets anyone call her handicapped. Once a student asked her, how do you feel about the fact that you are handicapped? She replied, or rather, snapped back by saying, Handicapped? Who? Me? Hah! Child, I am not handicapped, this building is handicapped. It has no ramp, only stairs. If it had a ramp do you think there is something someone over here would have been able to do that I cant? I could do everything that you are doing, if the building wasnt handicapped. We all got thinking, she was right. How can she be handicapped? What if the building didnt have stairs but instead had rock-climbing walls to reach different floors. Then only those with strong arms and legs would be able to climb up and down, no the regular people, then would they become handicapped? After all, they cant do what she cant do. So shes not handicapped, the building is. The world is. I think the same applies to this mystery woman of yours. Stop feeling pity for her. I know you think you arent feeling any pity for her, and you actually feel something stronger for her, but subconsciously, you are feeling bad about her. You wish you could do something for her, only because you think she doesnt deserve to be there on that wheelchair, because you wish she wasnt a handicap. But what if she doesnt even think that way?

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I heard everything she said, intently. Sipped my tea quietly and when it was done, I got up. Aliya, this, right here, this is the reason why I come to you, you know how to dive into my head. I gave her a hug, she deserved it. I smiled and I said goodbye. She had the look of content on her face, she smiled and led me out. I walked back into the cold night, with a much lighter heart. Life was different from how I had led myself to believe. 4. I had become quite a regular student at college and since I was going to college every day at a fixed time, I almost expected to bump into her from time to time. But it had been a good one week since I had seen her last. There was no sign of the white sedan or a wheelchair anywhere. I did not know the three girls who huddled around her and I was a little too scared to venture into her class and talk to her classmates. It sounded, absurd at best. For one whole week I kept looking around, hoping to see her, but I didnt. on the 8th day I lost my patience and I walked into the department building where I had seen the car de-board her. This was a combined department building with quite a few art courses nestled in its midst. I looked around and took an awkward walk amongst my juniors when I saw the tall girl who used to push the wheelchair around. She didnt look her age, she looked far more mature. Tall with long black hair that she had let loose. She was wearing a simple black tee and I could figure she had toned legs because she was wearing tight capris. I did not recognize the other girls with her so I concluded she wasnt with the usual group, and then with all the courage I could muster I went up to her and said, excuse me? She turned around and the smile instantly wiped off her face. She suddenly looked, scarier. She didnt even say a yes, or nod in the appropriate direction, she just kept staring at me, can I have a word with you?. Im
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assuming the fact that I wasnt wearing a tee shirt and cargo shorts and instead was a little better dressed with a clean white shirt and blue jeans, she figured I am not going to ask for her phone number, she nodded and stepped away from the group. Do I know you? she asked, instinctively. I wondered if I should mention to her that I had seen her before, and in my head the next step would have been her palm on my cheek, and a loud thunderous slap. Stay cool, breathe, and talk normally, I told myself and nodded a no to her. This might sound a little weird to you, but I am here because I need to ask you something about someone else, a friend of yours I am assuming she smiled and almost mischievously asked oh! Do you want me to go ask out Sarah for you? My mind stopped reeling, and I tried to comprehend, her name was Sarah. Sarah seemed fine, she didnt look much like a Sarah, I was kind of hoping her name started with an A, but Sarah seemed fine. Why is Sarah on a wheelchair? I asked, and her mischievous smile vanished like it had never set foot on her face. Sarah is not on a wheelchair, Sarah is my friend. Why do you want to know about the girl on the wheelchair? Why are you asking about my sister? Take an egg, now keep it on the highway, right in the middle of the road. Now wait for a multi-axle truck to come and run over it, multiple times. I think you are getting close to how I was feeling. I had, in my fit of insanity, gone ahead and spoken to the girl in questions sister. I felt so stupid, so tongue tied and so, embarrassed! She was still staring at me. Suddenly, the equations had changed, and I did not know how to fit in my variables into this one. I, umm, nothing, just wanted to talk to her about something I stammered, she didnt look impressed, she stared at me harder and then with a stern face she said, look, I dont know who you are, but if you are planning to do something with my sister, keep off. She has been
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through enough okay? I felt like a little boy being chided on the first day of school. I was ready with a comeback, that elaborated on how I only wanted to talk to her, when her sister, turned around and left. The corridor kept bustling with people, nobody noticed me standing there, alone, looking forward but with my mind reeling backwards. Never have a felt silence so profound in the bustle of noise. I felt, defeated. I turned around and started walking back. I must have only taken a few steps when I heard the same voice again, it was her sister, and she was walking with fast footsteps, over the phone she said to someone, Annayat is here, come to the main gate? and she walked on, fast, confident footsteps. From the first floor, I could clearly see the white sedan drive in the main gate, I saw the tall sister gather around the friends and I saw them pull her out on a wheelchair, she didnt smile, she had the same disappointed expression as always. Annayat. I smiled, thinking of how I had literally just stumbled upon her name. My phone rang, and I pulled it out my pocket and saw that it said Nida Calling. I answered with a chirpy voice and she asked me to head out to the main market because she needed help buying something. I didnt say no, I was too happy to deny anything to anyone. The shopping spree ended about an hour later and Nida and I walked back into college with a couple of tee shirts rolled up in her bag. We must have walked a few steps away from the usual rendezvous point of Annayat and her car, when I heard someone say, excuse me! The voice was too soft, too mellow, I turned around to see her, sitting on the wheelchair, her nose curled up in a frown, the sun blinding her eyes and her one hand acting like a shade, placed on her forehead. Her sister was standing behind her, holding the handles of the wheelchair. Her face was stern. I stopped short on my steps and said,
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yes? and Nida nodded an approval and I walked towards her. My heart was lurching in my chest and I had a feeling it will erupt out. I walked closer and I felt sicker inside, when I was right next to her, I could only hear the thudding of my heart. She looked up towards her sister and she left. It was just me and her, and a lot of profound silence. She reached out her hand, and said, Hi, Im Annayat I blurted out my name back as I took her hand into mine. She seemed so confident that I felt jittery. I hear you have been asking around about me? So I figured Ill talk to you myself. It was probably at this very moment when I realized that I had nothing to talk to her about. There was nothing in particular that I wanted to ask and no clear reasons as to why I wanted to talk to her. I felt, lost. I managed to speak after a seconds pause. Hey, I know this sounds really weird, and twisted. I just wanted to, you know, I mean, its like this, I saw you come into college like this and then I just couldnt figure out anything about you so. Damn. Damn. Damn. Make some sense at least I begged myself, she didnt smile and her stern face spoke, Do you always make it a point to talk to the new students so that you can figure them out? I felt so stupid standing there, with no tricks up my sleeves. I started talking again, Look, I know how this sounds, and the problem is it sounds no better in my head too. I just saw you get your car driven inside so I noticed and you know, I never see you around so She stopped me short and said, I didnt take anyones seat, I didnt get through any Physically Handicapped Quota, if youre worried about that. I felt like every word she was saying was a slap, after slap, after slap. No, look, I see how bad an idea this was, Im sorry, I should have never bothered you like this. I dont know if she was going to say something or not, but I sped out of there. I was way too scared.
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Not the very best first impression, to say the least. 5. I woke up to the beeping of the alarm clock, but I shut it off instead of jumping out of my bed. I didnt want to go to college, I was almost scared after what happened yesterday. There was way too much on my mind and I had come to terms with the fact that I had stepped into a muddle that I did not belong to. The night before had been incredibly hard. I took the walk down to Aliyas house only to find that it was locked and bolted. I spent the darkest hours of breaking dawn wandering about thinking of the words said and unsaid. I felt this strange feeling, as if I dont belong in this entire set up and that I should consider speeding out as fast as I can. I kept wondering why I had indulged in this womans life. I felt disgusted at the fact that I had made her realize the fact that because she has a physical handicap, she is extremely noticeable. I should have probably said that youre so pretty but then I am certain she would have assumed that to be out of pity. I tossed around in my bed and finally decided that I wont go to college. I did not want to bump into her, or any of my friends for that matter. I needed to stay in and maybe just, be. I closed my eyes again and tried to doze off again. I woke up at around noon next. The world felt lazy, because all the active people were already in their work place. I pulled out of the bed and slumped myself on the couch. I took out my guitar from its case and saw that a string was broken, damn. Life wasnt exactly going fine. At about one in the afternoon Nida called me up, I ignored. When she called four more times I answered and she was pretty breathless as she said, why arent you in college you fool! That girl is looking for you, she asked me. I couldnt say anything, and I told her that Im not feeling too good and that Ill talk to her later. I snapped shut the phone and felt the
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familiar lurching of the heart. I did not have the courage to face her again. But then that feeling was getting overshadowed by the fact that I wanted to know what she had to say too. I dressed up and was on my way to college in minutes, I reached within 15 minutes and immediately started looking around. Nida was not answering her phone and I couldnt see Annayat anywhere. I was standing outside the department building busy trying to work my phone in the bright sunlight. Touch screen phones are a nightmare in bright sunlight when I heard someone clear their throat. The voice was unmistakable, and I turned around and saw Annayat, dressed up in white shorts and a dark blue tee shirt. Her hair was open and for a change she was smiling. How she managed to drive up right behind me without me realizing it was absolutely crazy. I muttered a scared Hi. She smiled, I seem to have scared you away, I didnt mean to come down so hard on you yesterday her voice was chirpier and she seemed to be in a better mood. I am sorry, I had no business venturing into the intricacies of your life like this I said, hoping for a miracle where she would say you are forgiven and then I would disappear from this situation. She spoke after a seconds pause, youre not forgiven, but you can try making up for the damage, I hear the coffee here is good. I wanted to keep a straight face but my face erupted in a smile and so did hers. I nodded in agreement and then came the awkward moment where I did not know if I should be pushing her wheelchair or let her drive it on her own. She placed her hands on the rim of the wheels and pushed it herself, almost reading my mind. We took the stroll down to the canteen, she stopped outside and I went in to get two cups of coffee. Then we settled in and we spoke, finally. It happened a few years ago, it was a friends birthday and she had organized a sleep over at her place. At around midnight we decided
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to do something crazy so she stole the keys to her brothers car. We sneaked out, five of us, and hopped in and turned the engine on. She was driving and I was sitting right behind her. We drove out on the expressway for some reason. She obviously did not know what she was doing and we ended up driving into a ditch. The collision was so hard that the lower base of my spine got injured. They were too scared to call anyone so I lost the precious minutes when my legs could have been saved. I was taken to the hospital a little too late where the doctors operated on my lower back. When I woke up the next morning, I felt a very cold sensation in my legs. I tried to curl them up but couldnt. The doctors told me that evening that they believe my legs had gone paralyzed. I told them that I can feel a cold sensation, they called it a fancy term. Something about how nerves are still sending signals that dont exist actually. Said it was common in cases like these and cases of amputations. People can feel pain in limbs that dont exist. I protested, told them that my limbs exist and that I want to walk, run, dance. My mom wouldnt stop crying, when she would come to see me her eyes would be as red as a ferrets. Dad was almost always on the phone, talking to cousins abroad, to see if there was something that could be done. But nothing could. I wasted an entire year being wheel-chaired from one hospital to another, everywhere the doctors would give the same answer, that there is nothing that can be done about my condition. I tried hard to be strong, but it was hard. People would come visit me only to make me feel worse I think. They would come and cry, and ma would cry all the more. They would tell me that I needed to be strong and that I can make it through this. I used to love dancing, and I would miss that so I started trying different things to keep myself busy. I started spending my time reading and studying books. I would write, I would do anything and everything that did not need me to move around. But it was never fulfilling. I try to live a full life, every day, I do. But
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sometimes it is just impossible to move past the fact that I can never run again. I want to feel that wind in my hair that you can feel when you are running carefree. I want to walk, I want to run, I want to fly. I want to be. And she choked on her own voice. I was listening to every word she was saying with a feeling of awe. She had poured out her entire story that I had been craving to listen to, in a single glass of coffee. And now she had let it brew inside my head. I couldnt say anything, nothing witty popped into my head. I wanted to make her feel better but I was too scared that I will make it worse. We shared a beautiful moment of silence, and I cleared my throat, not knowing what I want to say. I think you are very brave Annayat, and someday well get you wings for you to fly. She laughed, almost mockingly, and said, I need to be able to run before I can fly, no? I smiled, and she smiled and we finished the coffee in a moment that was too deep to be described in words. I told her about how her sister and I had a not so pleasant rendezvous and she told me how she had actually told her about it and that is the sole reason why she had decided to talk to me so that she can figure out the guy who wants to figure her out. I felt stumped, she was witty and she had her way with words, and she was beautiful. As we spoke on, a small flick of her hair kept fluttering on to her face, and she would casually brush it aside, and it must have been the worse timing when it did so again, and I moved forward to brush it aside when her sister suddenly appeared out of nowhere. God must hate me, for she saw me precisely at the moment when I was brushing that flick aside, and she stared at me with the same look that had scared me away that day. I stood up with a jerk, and said an awkward hi She didnt even acknowledge me, instead she looked at Annayat and said, the driver is here, we need to go Annayat

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nodded, looked at me and said, thank you for the coffee, you are forgiven. And with that she left. 6. Most people dont talk to their mothers the way I do, she tried to be a friend to me and I try to reciprocate the same feeling to her. And today I needed a favour from her. Ma, youre still in touch with Colonel Kumar? I asked inconspicuously, and she blurted out a yes. Colonel Kumar was the go-to military guy who had been working with the Helicopter division of the Indian Army. And I needed his contacts desperately right now. Most of the pilots of the Indian Air Force and the Indian Army usually take premature retirement and work with private firms and the likes. The pay is good and the loss of perks is usually covered up the additional funds. Why do you ask? she quipped, and then, I announced, Ma, I want to go sky diving. There was a long pause and I could hear her breathe, she was one of those mothers who would definitively not want their children doing adventure sports. and how can Colonel Kumar help you? He doesnt do or organize sky diving trips she finally said. I know, but I am certain he has the right contacts, help me? Please? She thought for a minute more, and then said, Ill talk to your father and well see. The line went dead. I had become good friends with Annayat over the weeks. We would often meet after her classes and I would wheel her over to the canteen and we would have two cups of coffee, each. Talk about a lot of things, but never the fact that her legs dont work anymore. She never mentioned her desire to want to run or fly again, and I did not bring this up in conversation either. She was, for most parts, very busy talking about the other spicier parts of life. I had only recently
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discovered the fact that she sang too. And I had been meaning to get my guitar fixed so that I could coax her into singing. Her sister hadnt started liking me at all either and she hated me just as much as she did the first day when I went and asked her about her. why does your sister hate me so much? I asked her one sunny afternoon. She sipped on the cold-coffee, and said, she doesnt hate you, she loves me a little too much, shes very protective of me. And well, she doesnt usually get along with people who she thinks would hurt me in some way, you know how it works. I figured that her sister probably thought I would break her heart or something, but then it wasnt like Annayat and I were in love or something, we were just good friends, and her sister acting like this was something I never figured out. One fine evening my mother called me up and gave me Colonel Kumars number, she had given me the go ahead and as reluctant as she was, she seemed to be doing a good job at hiding her fear of me jumping out of an airplane. I called up Colonel Kumar that very evening. Good evening Sir! I said, in a firm voice. This was the key with army men, never call them uncle, call them Sir, and theyll be as happy as they can be. Hello young man! he answered back with a voice that echoed of years of army service. He meant well, and I liked him. For starters, I could be as frank as possible with him. I told him of my plan, and he was a little tongue tied for most parts. But he seemed to be comprehending it and he finally gave me the go ahead and said, alright, fine, we can do this. This was the easier part of the plan, I had a much harder thing to do still, I had to talk to the demonic sister. The next morning I went to college early, in an effort to catch her before Annayat arrived. I saw her in the corridor with her friends and this time, I felt slightly more confident than before and I went up to her and said, Hey, a word
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please? She borrowed the frown from her evil bag of expressions instantly and walked up to me and said, yea? I took a deep breath, and then decided that there was little that can brace her for what I was going to tell her so I just shot it out. You know, Annayat and I have been friends for a while now, and she has told me quite a bit bout herself. One of the things that is recursive in her conversation is the fact that she really misses running. And if I could quote her, she said, she wishes she could run and she wishes she could fly. Now I am no doctor so I dont know what can be done to let her run the way she wants to but, I think I can make her fly. I took a pause to take another long breath, for things got trickier from here, but before I could say anything else, she stopped me short and said, you can make her fly? Are you demented or high? I started off faster than before because I knew she wouldnt let me speak otherwise, neither of the two, just very well planned. I have organized a small sky diving expedition for her. The pause that followed was so deafening in its existence that, oh well, I felt insanely stupid. Okay, so, are you out of your mind? My sister cant walk, she needs someone to brace her when she has to go up a ramp, and you want her to jump out of an airplane? With what? A wheelchair? Or wait, better still. How is she going to do this? Do you own a plane? Will you be piloting the suicide mission? Before she could call me meaner names, and point out the further absurdity of my plan I stopped her and told her about how I had done my research. How a Colonel friend would be organizing this with the help of his Army Paratroopers. How the flight isnt going to be just as expensive and that I have it all covered. How some of the best jumpers will be strapped on to her and to me and will be controlling the parachutes and the descent. How she has to do nothing, but feel the wind through her hair and finally be able to fly. Her sister didnt seem
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impressed at all, I was scared shell tell Annayat, or worse, her parents. She simply asked me to shut up, and get lost 7. I must have been insanely lucky to have pulled this off, but subsequent conversations with her sister proved fruitful and she agreed. On the brilliant October morning, Annayats car was being driven by her sister instead and she drove it off to the outskirts of Delhi where a private airfield had a small propeller powered plan waiting for us. I had been standing next to the plane for about an hour when I saw the car in the distance. My heart started pounding the same way it did when I had spoken to her for the first time. I had practiced what I would tell her at this point, at least a million times the night before and now that she was only seconds away, everything washed out. As the car came to a stop, I went and opened the door. Annayat had a look of bewilderment on her face and she looked at me and then at the plane and then back at me and said, what the hell? I pulled her out on the wheelchair and we wheeled her to the nearby shack where the paratroopers were waiting with the gear and jumpsuits. The plan was simple, do everything so fast that she gets no time to react. Her sister got her into the jumpsuit faster than I could get myself in one. And all this while she kept protesting and demanding answers. We kept quiet, this was essential. Finally I wheeled her into the small airplane and the doors were shut and the plane took off. She had gone quiet once the plane had lifted off the tarmac, the sound of the propeller was too loud anyways. She looked at me once again, and I smiled. Then I went close to her ears and said, Im giving you the wings, now go fly. And with that I went on to get strapped to my jump instructor. Getting her strapped on was a little
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harder, since she couldnt really move her lower body at all. But we did it, and as scared as I was that the landing will cause some damage to her legs, I was assured that the very best paratrooper was her jump instructor. Once we reached the appropriate height, the bay was opened, and she looked scared. She hadnt said a word yet, and well, her only words on the plane were, a loud scream, as they jumped off. I saw her turn into a smaller dot by the second when suddenly my jump instructor got up and tied as I was, like a kangaroo baby to his mothers pouch, I got up with him, and jumped off. The minute we were out, the world turned into this blur of colours, and shades and sounds. There was a loud gushing in my ears and I could see the ground come towards me at a breath-taking speed. Suddenly my instructor curled up his legs and did something that we were turning upside down and then back and then upside down and back. The clouds went zooming past us and the world seemed like a brilliant flurry of colours. I saw Annayat, her eyes were wide open, and I could see the fact that she was trying to take in as much of the wind into her hair as she could, she was trying to feel free, she was flying. With a jerk the parachutes opened up and suddenly our pace was reduced. We started easing towards the ground and the wind had stopped howling in my ears. As we finally came closer to the ground I could feel this anxiety, I was scared that her landing wont be fine. But she landed a few seconds before me, and they landed perfectly. We were in some kind of a field and as we skid to a stop, I unhooked my harness and ran towards her. She was still on the ground, her arms outstretched. She had the look on her face, like she had lived every moment of her life again. She hugged me and whispered a thank you. I helped her back on her feet and with a little help we got her to the car waiting nearby. As
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she settled in, her sister came and for the first time, she hugged me too. I looked at her with surprise, she smiled, and said, I didnt think it was possible, but thanks for giving her the wings to fly.

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Dancing in the Moonlight

1. I was driving that night, we normally take turns at this, but I was the one driving that night. Me and my friends, just letting loose, going crazy. We were tired, exhausted of the routine, we needed an escape. What better way to do so than by going to a club. You know, just go crazy. We drove up to the parking lot, and headed to the main gate, our names were on the guest list, we were the college folk, clubs allow in for free to get crowds thumping. As we head in, there is a lot of chatter around. Women are busy seeing if their stilettoes are pointy enough and their dresses short enough, while guys run their fingers through their gelled up hair to look better. It's an interesting myriad of people. Me? I'm a teetotaller who doesn't dance. I go to clubs to chill with friends, to drink soda, and to watch as groups of girls, celebrating someone's birthday go crazy. We walk in at the appropriate time, around midnight, the club is alive with music and lights. The DJ is playing the same list of songs that you'd hear in every club. It's all uniform. The top 40 hit the turntable and songs that are literally the party anthems are taking turns of fornicating the sub-woofers. It's alive, the club is like a multicellular organism all thumping to the same beat. The lights flash, and i let my eyes adjust to the lighting before I take further steps. There are friends of mine, who'll drink tonight, lose all sense and make-out with the people they have been eyeing the whole night. Friends who'll get drunk and say, DAMN I don't remember a thing. Friends who'll get drunk, wanna get a smoke and end up passing out on the couch. Friends. Friends who understand they need me to not
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drink so that I can drive them all back home. It's cool, the smell of alcohol irks me. Not that night, it didn't. I looked around the dance floor, as my friends spread out and started shaking themselves wildly. They think they are dancing, but it's just the strobe light doing the magic. I find a nice spot on a couch and drop myself on it, the music is loud, and my inner organs are still adjusting to the fact that they are all going to be vibrating with a stillsubsonic sound all night long. I love the bass, it makes you feel one with the music. Music that I listen, but don't dance to, because I'm just not the kinds. One of my prettier friends walks up to me and gives me her hand, she is flirting because she can, and she knows i won't judge her. She's flirting because she and I, we'll never work out as a couple and she can do this to have fun. She probably says it out loud, but in a club, it's socially just a whisper when she says, Can I have this dance? I don't know the song. I've lost track ever since WorldSpace went out of business and my daily dose of Top 40 Songs is lost, I don't like the Billboard website, it is, enormous. I nod, a dance never killed anyone, and the strobe will probably make me look like Victor Kim. I head up and we find a nice spot in the middle of the floor where I take her waist and drag her closer. It's cool, she's just a friend. We begin dancing, I'm still awkward with the moves so I decide to just twirl her around, a lot. And I do so, I spin her, and she moves in on my arms, and then I swing her, and let her twirl once again. People are watching now, as if we are good at what we are doing. It's just the strobe light guys, relax. We laugh, and giggle, she cracks a joke that I can't hear over the bass, but I laugh anyways. We are just going crazy like that when the doors swing open, and they walk in.

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There were six of them. Pretty young women, all in their first or second year of college. Wearing dresses too short for them, and heels too high for them. Wearing make-up that is, urgh. And lip gloss, that they are sure everyone wants to kiss. They walk in and they head up to the middle of the floor. They are THE thing you see, they are the six single women, who are certain the single hot men are going to make moves as the committed men stare and ogle. I keep looking till another twirl pushes my friend's hair in front of my face. It's cool, I've danced enough, and I whisper (by club standards) that I'm tired, and I head out to my nice warm couch. I can't help but eye the group, I don't want to be cheap. I'm a respectable, chivalrous gentleman, in my head I am, really. So, I don't wanna eye those extremely gorgeous women, but I do. And then they head up to the bar, and they order for something. It looks like Vodka Shots. I know that because I see the glasses line up. They all get ready, and then in a moment, I see her. She's there in the group, wearing just that short a dress, and just that high a pair of heels, but she has a look that says, I don't know if I belong. She picks up the shot-glass, but stops, she lets it back down, and I can feel my cheek-muscles force a smile on my face. It's almost cute. They start dancing, and my friends head back to sit for a while, they are taking a break, only because they want to dance all night long. They want to dance till the club security pushes them all out. They are cool like that. I try making the loud-conversation with them, that's a club trademark, but I am distracted. I wish I was an artist then, get hold of a napkin and a pen and sketch her. Paint her long brown hair, that falls mischievously on her face, sketch those eyes that are distant to me. Sketch that smile, that'll make her smile all the more when she sees it. And in my head, I'm

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spinning a romantic excursion with her, even though I know her, umm, not at all. But she's pretty, she's pretty like that. They all are dancing now, my friends, her friends. And I see that she isn't, she's kinda, all by herself, on a different couch. Now, I know what you'd say. DUDE! Go up to her! say HI!, It won't kill you. Be a man. I'm a man alright, thank you very much, but I can't go talk to random women, I don't know how to, get her to say a HI, and I'll chat her up all night, wait for me to say Hi, and you can wait a rather long wait. There's nothing I can do, and I keep staring. A friend of mine comes and drops himself on the couch, I should have seen him, I should have seen how he saw me staring. But I was distracted, he pinches me, and asks me, who are you checking out? I point to her, the pretty girl in the black dress. He says all that I just mentioned above. I nod, as I am nodding right now, and I tell him to go back dancing. Finally, I've had enough, I can't talk to her. And there's nothing I can do, and so, I get up. I walk towards her. And then I take a turn and I leave the dance-floor. Outside in the lobby, it's quieter, relatively, women are perched on more couches and sofas and are fixing their make-up, and their dresses, and their heels. There are the lucky guys who are getting a kiss. The lucky girls, who are getting wooed. And I'm there, a little awkward, all by myself, Suddenly the music's decibel goes higher, and I turn to realize the heavy doors have just been swung open, and yes, in the filmi-est way possible, she walks out. I see her up close for the first time, She's prettier than I had partially imagined. And she's taller than me with those heels. I can't help but smile, she doesn't notice, and walks towards the end of the hall. Surprisingly, she's alone. She goes and sits on a couch, and takes her heels off, she slumps her shoulders and closes her eyes. I'm just trying to make sure I can see
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her without making it obvious. I was probably staring a little too hard, for she opened her eyes in an instant, saw me staring, and before I could look away, said, "yes?" Now this is the moment we guys dread the most. Do we stay or do we run? Do we act all cool, or do we act normal. Do we talk or do we swallow the imaginary tablet of cyanide that is lodged in our throat already. I take a step forward and I don't know where I got the courage from, and I say, "Nope." My mind is screaming inside my head, BRILLIANT SIR! What a line, perfect, she's probably all head over heels for you now, she's probably gonna marry you, and tell her grand kinds how you had her at the NOPE. yes yes, not a hello, or a hi, or a witty pick up line, your first words into glory were, NOPE. Brilliant! She's got the most confused expression I have ever seen, and she looks cuter than I have ever imagined. Cross that, women have pointed out to me that cute is for babies, oldies and puppies. Ummm, she looks really beautiful, yes better. Okay so, she's perfect, and she's confused and I just said nope, and I act like I had something else, and with a weirder expression I say, "I saw you inside, you don't dance do you?" Oh yes, even better! Now you're a certified stalker! Great job man, by the end of the night, she'll have your name tattooed on herself. She looks, visibly disturbed at the prospect of being observed like that, but she suddenly smiles and says, "Yea, Im not into such stuff" Then why are you here? Friends birthday.. You?

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Umm, you're implying Im not here to dance either. I didnt stalk you, so I don't know. (yes, brilliant, you were right, she does think you're a stalker.) Umm, yea, just a get-together. She moves herself a little bit, making only a quarter of an inch space more, but it's all the gesture I need, I go and sit down with her, and we talk. The night suddenly went very interesting. When youre sitting with a girl for the first time, the distance is everything. Too close and shell be uncomfortable, too far and shell doubt if youre interested. Me, I was too confused to think so I sat down next to her, and then, in a fit of madness I squat my legs and turned towards her. Well, that ought to turn the mood into a much calmer shade of informality. She didnt seem to mind, and I was comfortable so it was a nice happy moment there. She asked me what do I do, where I am from, Things that wea re sure are all that we need to know to define a person, to understand him. We think, and we believe, if I know what that person is interested in, well know everything about him, if I know where hes from, Ill have a clear idea about his personality, shes simple, shes clichd in her questions, but shes just so pretty! Its hard to get my eyes off her, and I can see the fact that constant staring can get a little obtrusive.
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When the night slowly started slipping into the realm of morning, and we were still talking, about absolutely nothing, I took my second bold step, the first being the nope. I asked her, if shed like to take a walk. She looked at me, as if she was scanning my FBI database. Nope, hes not a sexual offender, maybe he wont try raping me. And there was the long pause of mental debate, in which she was deciding what to say. Its one of those things, that can make or break the moment, like an untimely kiss. You bend forward, when shes not ready, and shell just ask you to leave. But now the dice had been rolled, and she had taken forever to answer. Not cool. She looked around, distracted, looked back at me, and then with that same smile she muttered something. Now I am certain it was a nice casual yea, sure, why not! But I was a little lost, imagining the negative scenarios in which she slaps me and walks off. But she nodded, and smiled and she got up, We both stood up, and started walking, when we reached the door, she stopped and said, I should probably tell them where am I going. Now, I know I shouldnt do the things they do in movies, you see, the female leads are bound by the script, they need to let go of their inhibitions even if they dont want to or the male lead is a jerk, in the real world, women react in a sharper way. I knew I shouldnt have done so the minute I did it, but I grabbed her hand. It must have been the same feeling a bomb-squad expert gets when he finally decides which wire to snap on a ticking bomb. The feeling, that everything depends on this one snap, this one grab. And yes, the James Bond in me kicked in to be the ladies-man, as I blurted out, that if they know, they might not let you go. So lets back it up, I had just met the girl that I was going crazy about, and now I was holding her hand, without her consent and telling her not to inform her friends she was going away with me. She should have slapped me,
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She didnt. She smiled, and started walking, I am so sure she said, I love your spontaneity but I think she said it in her head, never mind, she must have said it. We walked out into the moonlit lawn, she had long let go of my hand, and was walking a few steps away from me, when she stopped and stooped down, she took off her heels, and started walking barefooted on the grass. God, I began to pray, this is what awesomeness feels like. We kept talking, about music, and soul. Happiness and contentment, About how the world didnt care, and how we were so different, we walked and talked till we reached the end of the lawn and I looked up at the building, and I said, Lets go up there, on the top. Now, it was probably the lucky streak that I got so courageous, but when she said, no, I was left in utter, discomfort. She started walking back, and the conversation started to dry out. I kept imagining the sight when she and her friends had first walked into the club, it was all so much simpler then, now, shes offended. I was so lost in imagining the impending sadness, that when she stopped, I didnt realize till a few steps later, I turn around, and I see her staring at the top of the hotel. She looks at me and says, are we even allowed up there? I knew for a fact that we arent, made me feel so stupid, why would I suggest something that isnt possible, at the risk of ruining the perfect night. So, sheepishly I told her that, nope we arent. Her eyes lit up, and she had the same excitement as of a little girl whos just discovered that the ponies she saw on TV, do exist in real life, and that she can sit on them. She beamed as she said, awesome! So were gonna break-in? great, lets go! You know how we all are sexist in a way because we are certain that there are certain things that guys would do but not girls? Well, Im sexist like that, and when she gave me that look, I was pretty
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surprised, but this night couldnt have gone better, so I again, took my chance, grabbed her hand, and started running towards the main gate of the Hotel. Her hand was cold, but soft. It felt great, but it was short-lived, we entered in, and she let go of my hand, and we walked towards the elevator. We stepped in the little metal capsule and pressed the button that led to the top floor. Along the way, I kept praying that Oh lord, may this elevator suddenly fail, and get stuck, and she and I end up sitting here, all night, talking. (Im chivalrous, remember?) But that didnt happen. We reached the top floor, and then walked towards the fire escape, there were stairs that led further up, and as we quietly treaded up them, my heart began lurching inside my chest. This was way too unreal. We finally opened the jammed door, and there we were, at 3 in the morning, on top of a 14 floor hotel. Under the moonlit sky, it was, beautiful. For a minute I actually lost my attention from her and started appreciating the night sky-line of the city. We walked to the edge, and sat down on the floor. I kept imagining all the scenarios in which I could kiss her after this, but you know, I knew I couldnt and that even if I could, I shouldnt. We sat there in silence. The calmest 47 breaths I ever took. I counted them, because this moment was special. She looked at me, and asked innocently, if I am meditating. I smiled and tried inching closer to her. I kept my arm next to hers, and let her cold skin touch against mine. When in conversation, she would move her hand, I would feel her. And in the most romantic ways possible, this felt good. I was close to someone, who barely hours ago, did not just not know of my existence, but was blissfully just a part of my fantasy happy-life. It was probably the moment, the setting, the fact that we didnt know each other, the fact that we were talking music, the fact that
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we were so, carefree. I asked her, if she had heard What Am I to you by Norah Jones, and when she nodded and said she liked it, I let my hand out and asked her, if I can have this dance. We were flirting, we knew it, and we also knew that this wasnt going to go anywhere, but it felt a little special, and she took my hand. We got up, and I put the song on Play in my cellphone, and left the phone in my shirt pocket. I embraced her with a dance-move, and put my arm around her waist. The music was literally coming from between us. We began to waltz, under the moonlit sky. With every breath, the song seemed to stretch longer. There was magic in the air, and we were part of it. We kept swaying, till the song died out. It must have been the last swing, she was closer to me. The song was gone, there was this deafening silence. And I wanted to say something, anything that would make the fact that the dance was over, but I was still holding on to her, a little less awkward. I couldnt say anything. I was frozen, and the silence, felt good. I could never figure out if she just whispered in my ears or did she also peck my cheek as she did so, but she said, thank you, this was beautiful. I finally let go of her, and we shared the most awkward ten seconds of our life. Then she motioned towards the door, and we both started walking towards it. The ride back down in the elevator was shrouded in silence. It wasnt that we were ashamed or saddened. We just didnt know what to say or what to do. We just knew that we had shared the most brilliant moments together. And that we did not want to mess them up. When we reached back to the entry of the club, we could see two distinct groups, each having the same look. Confusion and worry, they were probably looking for us. A part of me wanted to make an impression, grab her hand again, walk back like that. But she wasnt the kind of girl you want to commodify. You want to let her be the
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way she is, we were both smiling, which probably gave everyone plenty of ideas. I dont blame them, I had a better time than they were imagining, and I did not have to do any of the things that they are probably picturing me doing. We stopped a few steps short of everyone else, I turned towards her, and she towards me. She smiled, that same smile that I wanted to sketch. She smiled and said, you made my night, beautiful and she turned around and she left. No phone numbers were exchanged, no vows of meeting again. I could have searched her on social networks because I knew her name, but I didnt want to. I wasnt in love with her, I was just fine! I was living life the way I have always done. I was living life knowing that in the many days of my life, I now had a day, or rather a night, that was so beautiful, so complete and so pristine. It was probably craziness when I went back to the club exactly a week later, hoping to see her again. I didnt of course, life isnt a movie. But it was okay, it was all I ever wanted. 2. I would have normally snuggled up into a nice warm bed, propped myself up with a good book, and heard some nice music. But it was someones birthday. And we had promised to have one hell-of-a night to celebrate it. For the circle I was a part of, that normally translated into a night full of clubbing, dancing and for many of them getting drunk. I remember my first time, when a few seniors had smuggled a bottle of vodka into the hostel dorm, when I took my first sip, it felt like I was drinking a bitter concoction that was bent on trying to burn my insides. It has been the same ever since, I sip that mix only because it lets me fit in, and Im fine with it. I had promised not to drink that night, but just before we were going to leave, we decided to have a few swigs.
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I was wearing the little black dress I had kept in reserve for nights that would be special, now it wasnt meant to be a special night, but by the end of it I was happy that I had worn it. Sometime around 11 we hailed a cab and six of us stuffed ourselves into a cab that was probably smelling of a cocktail of expensive fragrances after we left. I wasnt drunk, I wasnt high, I was just happy. Alcohol does that to you, it brings out an emotion. I was lucky enough to not be the kinds who spill out tears about their lost love when alcohol touches their lips. They were all talking, I felt distant, but I was smiling and nodding, doing my best to not act bitchy. Someone finally took up my case, and within minutes they were swarming with sympathies and apologies for my broken heart, or so they believed. I dont take relationships seriously, so when that jerk was kissing her in the elevator of a mall, and I walked in, it pinched me, but I wasnt shattered. Somehow, not being shattered is no excuse, and it was impactful enough that I had decided to take my time off from relationships. This was seven months ago by the way. Yes, I know the taking time off had stretched up a little too much, but I dont want to be one of those bimbos who keep stepping into one failed enterprise after the other. I was just waiting for something awesome, but it was always the same. I wouldnt open up, I wouldnt talk, I would run away, and that made me an incredibly hard someone to be with. So when everyone was messing with me in the now-fragrant cab, I mustered up the craziness inside of me and announced, tonight will be different. When we stepped inside the club, the same sense of powerlessness filled me that I had experienced when I stepped inside one for the first time. The loud music, was difficult to cope with for me. I felt as if in this room, if someone stabs me to death, my scream would
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probably unheard. The flowing alcohol scared me for people lose their sense when they are drenched in it. The darkness and the flashing lights made me wonder if I have a photo-sensitive phobia, but I managed to smile and acted all cool, as we headed on to the middle of the floor and started tapping our feet, screaming happy shrieks, and doing the latest moves from the latest video on MTV, we were going crazy when I saw him for the first time. He was twirling around someone, someone who was way too tall for him anyways. I saw him look at me, our eyes met, but I ignored the connection. I felt disgusted, when youre with someone, look into her eyes, not mine. Jerk. I kept dancing for a while, when my feet suddenly decided that it was time to stop, they started to hurt, and I took a few moments off and slumped on the couch, watching my dress, making sure it doesnt reveal anything that I dont want the world to see. It was then that I saw that the same too-tall-for-him girl was being twirled around with someone else now, and that he was sitting alone on another couch, acting all busy with his cell phone, almost isolated and immune from the music and the vibe. My feet were still tapping quietly, his werent. I dont normally look at guys like that, I like to keep away, but you know how I had announced Ill be different tonight, so I thought to myself, what would you normally do? A tiny voice inside my head answered happily, sit where you are sitting, and stick around with your friends. I saw him get up, and leave the club, and in that instant I decided, alright, lets do exactly the opposite of what I would normally do. I got up, and I followed out. As I headed out, I felt my heels cut into my feet, these werent mine, I had borrowed them and I was regretting it oh so much. I was so distracted by the entire pain that I missed him even though he was standing right in front of me. I moved on and sat down on a couch
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and start rubbing my feet, it hurt so much that I closed my eyes. When I opened them, he was looking, instinctively I asked, yes? He had me at the nope. I was smiling inside, he so did not belong here, he didnt smell of alcohol or of smokes. He was too clean to be sitting around in a club like this. He sat down next to me and we spoke. It felt unreal, should I be doing what I am doing? Should I be communicating with a guy who was quite frankly, eyeing me a few minutes ago? You wish and hope and expect for a sense of reason to fill you in, but it never does. I stayed there, and we kept talking. When he asked me to go take a walk with him, I was relieved. I wanted out so bad, the loud music was getting to me, especially now that it was just the thump that we could feel sitting outside the main dance floor. He seemed nice, charming, just the right amount of flirtatious. He was following all the rules of the conduct, he seemed to have done this before. I almost made a mental note to not do anything that makes me just another in his list of apparent conquests. But in that moment, the apprehensions were trickling away. We headed out, and into the night. I would have told him that this reminded me of home, that walking on the grass in the middle of the night was brilliant, but I let him make his small-talk, when he asked me if we should go on top of the hotel. It was an impulsive no, I didnt think or process it, I just said it. And once I had, I almost regretted it. I had promised to be different and I needed to be so, therefore I quickly turned around and concocted the conversation that led us up there. He was like a happy excited kid, so delighted that he went forth and held my hand, it was harmless I was certain. We headed up in the elevator, he was silent, and I wished I could read his mind, I wanted to know what he was imagining in his head.
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When we stepped out on the top, the view struck me the most, it must have hit him pretty hard too, he wasnt saying much. The guy who was blurting along all the way suddenly wasnt saying much. He sat down next to me and kept talking, normal happy stuff. It was in a moment that he took the decision, for the words came out too fast to have been pre-processed, he asked me to dance. I let him take my hand and led his arm around my waist. He dragged me closer, and I took one long breath, and we started to sway. It was the most beautiful three minutes of my life as we danced under the stars. He wasnt skilled, but he was graceful in his own way. Charming. When the song ended, I wished that it had played longer, I let him hold me those extra moments. I let that connection seep into me. And then he let me go. Its not that I was dying for a kiss, or desperate for some loving, but where do guys have the sense when they really need it? I wouldnt have begged him to marry me, or to let me mother his kids. But a kiss wouldnt have killed him. It would have been the perfect conclusion to the beautiful night. We walked back in silence as I kept musing why he wouldnt be kind enough. Of all the scenarios and explanations I imagined, not one of them included the fact that he did not want the conclusion, that he didnt want that magical build-up to stop. That he wanted it to go on. When our last steps came closer, and his friends and mine were well in sight, I took the decision. I wanted to remember him, and this night in this perfectness. I did not want it to get clouded, or to get superseded with mindless arguments that had pricked my earlier endeavours of the heart. I just wanted this moment to stay the same. So I turned towards him, and I knew he was willing and waiting for a ten digit number that would eventually become his speed-dial for four hour long conversations through the night. Instead, I bid a cruel
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farewell, and walked away. With every step, I wished I could turn back around, and undo what I had done. I finally stopped and turned, but he was gone. I looked hard for a second, hoping Id spot him, but I couldnt. He just wasnt there anymore. And with that, the moment was forever covered in amber and left, just the way we had left it.

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Say the Word

She shuddered in the cold, like the last leaf on a dying tree. He walked across the hall, the fire crackling in the fire-place, a soft reminder of the necessity of this heat. His walk was quiet, contained and she did not hear him at all till she was standing so close to her, that had she even decided to take a deep breathe she would have felt him. He leaned in, even closer, and whispered in her ears, a soft, mesmerizing hello. She shivered, and a sliver ran down her spine. He put his arms on her and her muscles tensed up. He closed in, and she turned around... I switched the tab off. This was boring stuff, Mills & Boons going crazy on me; trying to incite an eroticism inside of me that was and should have remained the domain of women only. Its funny how we have started finding replacements for everything, even erotica. This just wasnt good enough, I needed a better head start, I needed something way better than reading nonsense online. I picked up my phone and called up the one person who could satisfy this urge, this burning desire, this need. The phone rang on for a bit before a guy answered, he sounded high, and I imagined him holding a pipe, jay? I need to get it, give me the address there was a moment of silence and then he, in a smoky tone told me, downtown church, 5pm. I put down the phone and look at my watch; its around 4:20, so I better leave now. I drive down the empty road, its a Sunday. The wind is cold and the sky overcast. Itll probably rain in a while and I hope and pray it doesnt affect the attendance. I am heading over, not for a sermon, But to elucidate on the 12 steps of de-addiction. The 12 Steps for Sex Addicts. Yes they are real, they are the legends you have heard of in the myths. And they are more than real, they
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are people with regular jobs, not so pretty and not so ugly. They are people who are willing to go a very different amount of distance for sex. People for whom this is as bad as having a cocaine addiction. You think its rare? Preventable? The legend who founded the Alcoholics Anonymous, the original 12 Steps Program, he was a sex addict. His name is Bill Wilson, and he spent his entire sober life cheating on his wife. Sex addiction works the same way drug addictions work, you drink too much and your body suddenly starts depending on the ethanol, you take cocaine and the morphinates run up into your brain. Heck, even the caffeine in coffee is trying to hitch you. You know how they say nirvana is a constant of orgasm? They are right, its a state of your brain being washed over with endorphins. Does it sound similar to Morphine? It does, and that is because it is. It kills pain, tranquilizes the body and helps get a pep. Sex addicts arent exactly addicted to sex, they are addicted to the endorphins released by constant sex, by constant orgasms. They have such low levels of monoamine oxidase that they begin craving for the peptide phenylethylamine that would flood your insides if you were in a very emotional charged situation, like risk, or a crush or the likes. Imagine if a cocaine addict had an infinite supply of coke, an injection by his side all the time. Sex addicts have that power. Everything ready at every moment of the day. Ready and willing to be simulated. They are carrying around a shot in their tits and clits and dicks and tongue and everything. You know the friends of friends who did stupid stuff to themselves and to their organs? Well they are real, and they are all here. This is the place to be, am I a sex-addict? No. Im here to take tips from seasoned experts. When I pull into the drive way of the church it had already started raining, the Sunday School that accompanied the little catholic haven
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was the designated place and I was well in time, I saw a few women huddled around in a group near the steps that led up to the building. A few scattered men smoking their cigarettes and scratching their groins. Not the physical itch that we all get, their itch was more of a boring insect inside their mind. I was impatient so I walked up to the main door and tried opening it to find it locked from inside. I turned around, only slightly embarrassed, a young girl with her eyes all smoky black pointed at her wrist. She smiled and I smiled back. A few minutes later an old woman came and opened the door from inside. She pointed to the end of the hallway and we all slowly seeped into the little room that would be the war discussion room. De-addiction rooms are like war-discussion rooms, always. Everyone comes here with a story, their personal war. Their all-time low. Of course, for me it is like the best lecture on how to get laid. Did you know how Vacuum Cleaner companies installed a small spinning blade in front of the suction hose to chop out the hair and lint to prevent it from clogging the dust filters. The result was a lot of men with bleeding and chopped organs. This was in the 1950s. Did you know hospitals keep a drill to break into the bottles and other cylindrical objects men might fancy themselves in the middle of the night with? Did you know that 97% of such cases include them accidentally tripping on something which strategically placed itself on the beloved organ of pleasure. Have you heard of the housewife who was to be surprised by her friends and family on her birthday but instead they found her on the couch, her legs spread wide, peanut butter and jelly between the legs and the family dog having his mid-day lunch happily? Shes real and shes here. Have you heard of the cheerleader who gave a blowjob to the entire football team, fell sick, was brought to the ER and had her stomach pumped to remove a pint of sperm? Shes real
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and shes really sick or she would be here today. Have you heard of the guy who dressed up as a doctor, sneaked into a clinic and gave breast examinations to two dozen women? Hes real and is serving a sentence but the judge has forced him to come to these sessions. Have you heard of the guy who pretended to be a Health Officer and went to schools to talk to young girls about their vaginas? Hes a sexual offender and he would be here if only his sentence was less harsh. Do you know what is Autoerotic Asphyxiation? Lisa can explain it best. You know of the guy who travelled across the country looking for cheap hotels, and used to lie on the bed naked waiting for the maid to walk in on him? Hes real and banned from most hotels. When you hear the stories you probably imagined a big-boobed woman like Pamela Anderson being the sexoholic. Megan Fox would do too, Shes hot. But these are regular people. The policemen who patrol your streets at night, the person behind the McDonalds counter making your burger, the guy who was driving the bus you took to work. Real people with real names and real jobs and real lives, and a real problem. They are Compulsive Sex Addicts. The people your mom warned you about. The people who define the urban scary. And they are all here, dying to spill out their trade secrets. I am not a sex addict, but I dont mind pretending to be one to get a better idea. I look around, the guy whos speaking would take lady friends out to movies, cut a hole in the popcorn box, let his dick stick out and wait for her to handle it. He needs help and hes here. The girl with the smoky eyes winks at me, and I get up and head out. I know how this will work out, shell follow me, and well go looking for a nice empty room. Heck, Id do it to her under the staircase. We eventually dont do it under the staircase, the womens room was open, she likes it there.

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She pulls me into the womens room and we find it to be empty. It doesnt come as a surprise, Its pretty late for regular activity here in this building. Inside the smell of disinfectant fills my nose instantaneously. The tiles must have been sparkling white once, they had tinged by now. She doesnt waste time and pushes me against the wall. I look at her and I can see the same look I saw last week in Sarah. Last to last week in Elly. The list goes on, I have a list, of course I do. Thats the fourth step of the 12 steps, acknowledging your deepest darkest secrets. I would have said something, a conversation starter, some small talk but she already has pushed me down on the tiles. The grid of the tiles feels funny under my hips, it feels funnier once she squats on top of me and holds the back of my neck. Thats the best part about letting lose with Sex Addicts. They dont mind, wont complaint and know the best ways to do it. They are the experts and you are just a vessel. And for a woman who is quite literally dying to have sex with me, I dont mind being a vessel. Im not shallow, just a vessel. I wonder for a minute, whats her name, and I would have dared ask her, but she already is grasping my neck tightly and she pushes her open mouth on mine. I take a second to accept her taste. Theres a smoky mix of tobacco and her lip-colour. I can taste the smokes she was puffing outside the church, inside her mouth. Feel the coal like taste transfer in. I can feel her lips press harder against mine and her tongue wrestle its way into my mouth. I can feel her trying to take control of me and her hands running down my shirt. And I think, whats her name? The kiss gets wetter and she decides its time to undo the trousers that I am wearing. I dont have to do anything, when I get bored I run my hands on her back, shes too busy to notice it. Sex addicts want the sex, not the foreplay. I miss it at times, but I let her be herself right now. She thumbs my tool and rubs on it till she can feel it the
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way she likes. I am just a vessel, and I am okay with it. She stops kissing me and I take the long awaited deep breath. She looks at me with lust and pulls her dress up. I hold her and tell her youre beautiful. She stops, then drops the dress back and with an expression that is hard to explain, she asks me what do you mean? It is one of those things. You cant help it, youd say youre beautiful to the girl youre sleeping because shes doing a favour to you, in your head she is. Here, youre just the vessel and shes getting her fix from you. She doesnt need to be told shes beautiful. She probably doesnt want to be told that either. She just wants her fix. She pulls her dress up again, and pulls my trousers down. The tile feels cold and weird under my naked butt. I dont like the sensation, but pretty soon the brain will kindly shut down the unnecessary sensations and allow me to be engulfed by what shes going to do to me. She places herself on me, and the dance begins. She raises herself and drops again, then she lifts her leg and turns around. Shes facing my feet now and shes not willing to stop. Shes grinding, shes moaning and in one nice moment of masculine rush I spank her ass as hard as I can. She doesnt react, at all, shes stuck to her rhythm. Its hard and fast and I can feel the grid of the tile run into my skin harder. She isnt looking for love, not for a caring hug, She wants her fix, and shes getting it. I almost lose track of time when her breathing suddenly gets shorter. I can feel her muscles go tenser and she becomes faster and more agitated than before. I know whats coming and she knows it too. In a bone crushing moment she hits her endorphin moment and right then and there, shes done with me. She lifts her white ass off me and pulls her dress back down. She looks at me and smiles and while I get up and dress back up, she offers a smoke. I refuse, I had enough when I kissed her.

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I miss the times when I was in love, and this moment was replaced by a quiet hug, and a moment of reflection. When she wouldnt settle in on me and go bang-bang-baby. When I would run my fingers across her waist and make her weak in her knees. When her back was my tongues playground and her moans were music to my ears. I miss the times when she would arch her neck and then twitch her toes and go crazy. I dont miss her walking out on me. When someone crushes you, you can either be sad or you can bounce back. I bounced back like this. I suddenly found a ready guide with tips and strategies for getting laid. Half the stories mentioned in the book are the best How-To guides to getting sex. Its not like she loves me, I dont love her. This is the worst way of handling an addiction. Imagine putting ten alcoholics trying to leave alcohol with ten bottles of the finest wines. That is how twenty sex addicts are like. Waiting for something to happen, to make the day count in their own dirty way. Its dirty to you and me, but here nothing is a taboo. Nothing is dirty to the people who live their life in this way. These are people who find jogging without a bra important because it can attract potential sex partners. These are people who leave their fly open deliberately with no underwear. These are the sickest of the lot and yet, over here nothing is low enough. Nothing is hushed and everything is everyday conversation. Put twenty such sex addicts in a room together and something is definitively going to happen. The slip back, the going back to trouble. These are people who love you the way you love a pornstar on screen. You love her till you get your fix. These are people who run their fingers on me simply because its like sniffing cocaine for them. When we head back to the room, everyone is patiently waiting. She doesnt look at me as she settles into an empty seat. She hates me now, sex isnt about love for her, Im a vessel that has been used and
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abused. Shes done with me. I hate her too, and am too tired to love someone else now. So I sit quiet and listen, stories which are guide books to me. Stories which I laugh at when I am back home. Stories which define the people sitting here. I sit and I listen about the guy who cant help but travel in public transport without feeling someone up. It disgusts me, and I hate listening to him grope other women. Later that night, I took the bus back home.

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My Experiments with death

1. I look out of my window and I see the moon rise up on the dark blueblack night sky. I see only a few stars, owing to the polluted skies of the city. I remember once when an evening flight of mine got delayed and we took off at a rather late hour, the city looked like it had been ported from the imagination of an artist who had been given glowing paint. The street lights lit up the roads in perfectly even light and the terrace tops of various buildings were dark and quiet. It looked like the city had been criss-crossed with streaks of light, the beautiful sight exited the frame as soon as we rose enough to cross the blanket of pollutants that enveloped the city and then it was an even orange glow instead. That orange glow looks like a starless sky when viewed from ground level. The starless sky that I am seeing right now. Allow me to now try and get your attention in a slightly better way, I once read that when youre about to die, people actually listen to you, they connect with what youre saying and when you leave, you leave with something substantial, worthwhile. With that in mind, lets come to terms with my fatal illness. I would have tried to make it fancier than it is, but when I searched online for incurable diseases, the top position was taken by Common Cold. Since I am soon-to-die, I feel an air of Zen about me, and I figured exploiting it in the very best of ways would be to share what I experience, and of course, you have been kind enough to give me audience. Now that I have your partial attention owing to my imminent death factor, I bet you would like to find out at least a little about me. I want to give you my name but then that would mess up the way you imagine me. After all,
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names are the gateway into someones class, caste and religion. Lets keep the details away then, in a clichd way, Ill let you imagine me in any way you want to. And knowing you, youre probably imagining me as yourself. So, now that you are me and I am you, lets ask you, or myself, what is my greatest fear? Snakes? Spiders? Not really, these dont scare me, or rather, they only scare me on a very physical level, if we go deeper it is the thought of being left in oblivion that scares me the most. Knowing that nobody cares or remembers me at all and that all that I am is a pile of bones which the fishes at the bottom of the sea are nibbling away at. There was this particular item on the news quite some time back, about how this one aged person was found dead in Tokyo. Before you give me the look that says, So? People are found dead all the time! Well, this one person had been dead for over 20 years before his body was found. The death took place in one of the incomplete apartment projects. One of the multi-storeyed buildings was decommissioned because the builders went bankrupt, and the structure remained, unfinished for over 20 years, when the construction work was finally restarted they found a dead body inside. The corpse was of a man in his 40s, he still had his clothes on and from his wallet found identification. I dont quite remember how he had died, but when that ID card was cross referenced, it was found that there had been no missing report of the person. His parents were not alive and his wife had left him for another man a few weeks before his estimated date of death. In his fit of depression he committed suicide in the building where he was working. Since the building was never completed, his supervisors simply assumed that he never showed up to collect the money. The stench of a rotting corpse also didnt reach anyone, simply because it was an

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abandoned construction yard. That man had died in oblivion. Forgotten by everybody. No friends, no family, nobody. It is funny how we do worry about what would happen when we die. The Pharaohs of Egypt were in fact so worried about this that they spent the equivalent of millions of dollars on trying to get the Pyramids constructed. Of course back then, their status of being equivalent to God also helped in getting the workforce at cheaper rates. When they were buried, they were buried with food and wine and jewellery that could all be of use in the afterlife. But the fact of the matter is, beyond a belief in spirituality, we dont really have anything that proves the point here. We dont know anything about the afterlife and certainly with that kind of uncertainty, why spend so much in trying to get your body a comfy position when it will certainly not feel a thing. The concept of people wanting to do something about their bodys wellbeing post-death has led to a lot of people never really donating their organs when they can do that and save a lot of lives. I remember how once a friends uncle was admitted in a military hospital. He had a heart problem too, and after failed attempts to revive him the doctors declared him dead. His family was posed with the question of whether they would like to donate the organs, after much debate they finally and reluctantly agreed. His two eyes restored partial sight to soldiers blinded in war. His lungs gave at least ten more years to someone who had been suffering from lung problems, the kidneys help save two more people and by the end of it all, without him actually suffering any loss, he had helped save many lives, even after he was no more. Now, that man would always be remembered by those selected few who are living a happier life today because of him. Considering that I dont have too long to live and dont really want to die in oblivion like
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the man in Tokyo, I have signed up with the Organ Donation Program, so when I do die, they can come and take all of my organs and every last bit from my body and help save someone elses life. Hopefully that would help me from falling into oblivion. The scary part of course here again is not the fact that after I am dead nobody would remember me unless I do something great but the fact that if I am finding ways to prevent an oblivious death for myself, I am already at a juncture where people dont really care. Which is why I am sharing how I feel via a written note and not by sitting with people and sharing the story over a cup of hot cocoa. The hot blazing fire in the fireplace during snowy winters almost screams out life. The hot cup of cocoa reminds me of that. There is no such cup here, metaphorically or literally. And that leads us back to us, so, how are you today?

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A Hundred Million Suns

The beeps from the Microwave oven broke my train of thoughts as I turned around to see that the pre-cooked meal was ready to be eaten. I pushed back my chair and walked to the kitchen counter, the light tube was flickering, the voltage was low, its very typical of the hills. I opened the microwaves door and took out my half-cooked pasta, with a loud sigh I settled down to eating it. The sigh was for myself, there was no one else at home. A multi-storeyed house, all empty is like the best friend of rogue sounds. Somewhere a door creaked and a window swung open letting the howling wind in. I tried looking out of the smoked mirror right behind the gas-stove, years of soot had left little scope of any light to come in from it, but I could see drops of rain. There was a loud thunder, a worse howling of the winds and with a small flicker, the power died out. Suddenly, I was sitting on a table, with a fork and a knife, in the dark. I almost expected a candle to flicker to life somewhere and have a severed head on my plate. The wind was making it eerie, and I had been used to it enough that it didnt seem to bother me. I staggered to my feet and moved towards the stove where I knew there was a matchbox, after running my fingers on the cold marble counter-top, scanning it like a blind expert, I found the matchbox and with a stroke, there was a bright flame. I must have been standing in the wrong place because suddenly my nose was full of phosphorus fumes. I coughed, and ended up blowing out the matchstick. I lit another one, and then looked around for the candles. Finding one, I again went back to the fantasy world where I had been replaced a woman in a white saree, lets hit the clichs. I like them.
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The wind almost seemed to scream outside, and the entire combination of no power, howling wind, raindrops on the window sill and complete darkness save for the candle made me lose my appetite. I put my unfinished plate in the fridge and went on to climb the stairs to the second floor where a little wooden room was home to my world. I stepped in to see a small LED blinking on my phone. I took it out and saw that there was a voice-mail. People normally are too lazy to leave voice mails, they leave missed-calls notifications and expect a call back instead. This was peculiar. Hey, Its me, Im glad the call routed to your voice-mail because I dont know how to say this to you, I mean, you know, I dont know if Id be able to say it to you. Dont take me wrong, but I think you need some time on your own. Some time to see if you can really stand up for yourself, for what you believe. I think you need to see if you can truly try to achieve something even if the odds are against you. I know I have said this before, the only difference is, I dont believe anymore. I think for you to get the time to figure this out, I need to be away. Im leaving for New York in about twenty minutes. I hope you understand that, I need it too. I need this space, and I hope, you find out if you can really do justice, to yourself. Goodbye. I let my arm fall back down and for a minute, I was a little too numb to respond. Then suddenly a smile broke on my face, I wasnt happy, this was one of those smiles, that you smile when you are trying to force yourself to be normal and wonder at the same time as to how can your life be screwed so bad. I have heard of people getting dumped over chats and messages, now its the turn of voice mail. I was fine, my insides just dropped into my stomach, but I was fine. I brought my phone back to my ears and heard the entire message again.

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This time, it wasnt just as fine. This time I wanted to scream, I can do it, I can do whatever I set my mind to. Im not weak, Im not tired. I screamed inside my head, told myself that it doesnt matter what that woman says. She is gone, and she never belonged here. I told myself that what she says is trivial. But I was already wearing my shoes. I was already getting ready to leave the house. And then, right at the onset of the dark stormy night, with the howling wind and the wet roads, I stepped out. I looked up, and saw nothing, an occasional flash of a distant lightning, but nothing else. Still, I closed my eyes and let the rain drops fall on me. I let them wet my face. I let them cleanse me. A minute later, I locked the door, and started walking into the night. With uneasy steps I walked to my car, fiddled with the keys in the dark and then settled inside. The warmth felt good, outside it had started raining in a much worse fashion. With a deep breath, I turned on the ignition and pulled out of the drive-way. Once I was out on the open road I realized how little visibility I had, but it didnt matter, I switched on the Fog lights and put the rain-wipers on full strength and drove off towards the edge of the sleepy town. It must have been ten minutes or so into the drive when it first hit me, that I was completely blank as to what I wanted to do next, I was driving with no destination, I was driving with no aim. But I kept going on. My eyes were transfixed on the road, the road where the rain drops were splattering down to turn it into a glassy concoction. The road that would take me away. Suddenly I saw two bright orbs of light in front of me, and it was instantaneous, I spun the cars steering and slammed on the brake. You know how they show car crashes in slow motion in movies? They arent kidding, it was happening in slow motion. Maybe there was so much adrenaline in my brain that it had sped up the brain activity,
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but I clearly saw my car slide on the slippery road and spin by a few hundred degrees. I saw the headlights illuminate the cow who was so blissfully standing right in the middle of the road, oblivious to what she had caused. I felt my car lift a few inches off the ground as the suspension accentuated the brakes and I felt powerless. The car came to a jerky stop and I realized I was perpendicular to the road now. The headlights were illuminating a mud-track. In the most dejected moment of my life, I was willing to believe that it was all the will of God. And I was suddenly sure that this beast was placed on the road for a purpose, I spun like that for a purpose. That this road that had suddenly lit up by the headlights of my car, was where I was supposed to go. I powered up the engine again, and drove off on the mud track. The first few hundred meters were fine, the road wasnt smooth but it was okay. Eventually I hit a rocky patch with the road dipping and rising like a miniature model of the Grand Canyon. I hit a heavy gear and slowly kept driving on. Outside the rain had long turned into a raging storm. Lightning would briefly illuminate the world outside and I would only be scared to realize I had absolutely no idea where I was heading to. The visibility had gone down so low that I didnt even realize when I entered a forested area, and when the mud track merged itself with the forest floor. Suddenly, I was lost. The gripping fear didnt seep into me right till the cars rear wheel got stuck in a shallow muddy ditch of sorts. I tried everything, nothing worked. When I stepped out, I realized there was little I could do. I glanced at my watch and saw that it had been a good two hours since I had been driving. I was far, very far from my home. From the warmth of my bed, from the comfort of knowing the storm was away. I was right there, in the middle of it. I tried accessing my situation. I was lost, in the dark with rain falling around me as if
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someone was pouring down buckets full of water. With a crazy spark in my head, I decided to walk onwards. I locked the car, it seemed futile, I was pretty much alone. As I started trotting forward, trying to clear my head of all the thoughts and questions I could not help but notice the fact that I still had absolutely no idea where I wanted to head on to. Where I was going, and why I was walking on this unknown track. I must have been walking since eternity, my feet felt jammed, knees refused to bend, I had hit an uphill patch long back, and ever since I had been slowly ascending. I glanced at my wrist watch and saw that I had walked onwards another hour by now. Just an hour, not eternity. It sure as hell felt like eternity. The rain had turned my shoes into a nice soggy mass and my jeans felt heavier with every step. I was walking in darkness with a small flashlight, just walking. Feeling my way out, not knowing where the out led to. When I first saw the rock face after about an hour and a half of trotting around, I was certain that I needed to turn around and walk towards someplace else. But then there was something in my head. A bug of sorts, a buzz that said can you really do something that you set out for? I tried screaming out that I had absolutely no idea what I had set out for! I managed to mumble I think. I felt questions pop up in my head, felt her voice ringing in my ears. Asking me if I had it in me to stand up for something. I wanted to fall down on my knees and cry, beg, ask them if they knew why I was here. I didnt know, I hadnt set out to do anything, I dont know if I can climb that rock face. With a stutter, I looked up, I couldnt see anything, it was too dark, the flashlight too weak. But it was clear suddenly. I had come out till here, because I need to climb this stupid piece of rock. I slapped myself, really hard, to remind me that I was crazy to think that a
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stupid drive in the stupid stormy night to this stupid place did not mean anything. I screamed. I was so lost. I could feel my insides split into two, two war frontiers. One demanding I scale this rock face, because this is what I was supposed to do. The other mocking me for even considering random hints as a sign from God. I wanted to turn around and walk away. I couldnt do this, even if I wanted to, even if I needed to. She was right; I could never step up for something I had to do. I cant achieve anything when the odds are stacked up against me. She was right. And suddenly I turned right back around, held the flashlight between my teeth and planted my feet on the highest rock jutting out and started climbing the rock face. I couldnt see anything, the flash light was suddenly less of a useful little tool and a lot more of unnecessary weight. I knew I shouldnt have done this, but I dropped the flashlight and started feeling my way up. I would reach out as far as I could, then run my palm on the rock face looking for a jutting that I could hold on to, then I would raise my feet, and try to feel for a safe place to rest them so that I could transfer my weight back to them and then continue the process again. I must have slipped twice, I must have cut myself at a million places, I must have been close to dying, but I wasnt stopping. I kept going on, the last I checked my watch it had been 2 hours into the climb. Time had lost all meaning by then. I was just going on, there was no measure. The rain had stopped a while back. The cold wind pierced my skin like burning hot needles. When I heard the first chirps of the birds, it hit me that I had been out the entire night, scaling some peak which I hadnt seen before, and that now it was dawn. I kept going on, trying to dismiss my minds screams. Trying to force my body to move forward, trying to shut the pain out. It was probably exhaustion that I placed my foot at a wrong place. It was
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probably the worst luck possible when I slipped. It was probably the most painful experience when I fell and cut my left leg, all the way from my ankle right up to the mid of my calves. I dont know what I caught on to. I dont know how long I was literally hanging for my dear life. I dont remember how much the pain forced me to black out. I do remember not stopping, and I do remember going on. I do remember dragging myself the last few feet as I reached the top of the rock-face. I couldnt stand up, it hurt too bad, so I just propped myself against another rock as I rested and saw how high up I had come. It took a while, but it slowly sank in. The entire night, the entire climb. The fact that the odds were stacked against me, the fact that I had done something that I was sure I couldnt. The fact that I was, here. She and her words suddenly didnt matter anymore. I was suddenly content. I closed my eyes, it was probably the pain, the exhaustion, the loss of blood that was playing tricks on my mind, but as I closed my eyes, I saw a hundred million suns, dancing in front of me. A hundred million suns glowing, brighter and brighter, the white light flooding me, and then I passed out. When I woke up, I was lying in a warm bed, the smell of disinfectants was a sure sign that I was in the hospital. I opened my eyes slowly and saw my mother asleep on the chair next to my bed. I was back, I was alive. My leg burst with pain and I could feel that my lips were brutally chapped, but I felt better. I could never explain to them why I left that night, why I scaled that rock face. I could never explain to them, never answer any questions they had. But for me, this was the death I was looking for. The death of a part of me that had stopped me before, the birth of a part of me that was asking to move on, move forth. Stay alive.
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Farewell
I walk into the plaza and look around, I see familiar faces and some of them not quite so, there she is, beautiful as ever, and I feel a slightly elevated heartbeat as I stare at her. Snapped back to a reality by a calling out of my name I look around to see friends, faces and names who wont remember me within three months of me leaving this place, yea, three months, to think of it I was friends enough with them for them to remember me for at least that long. There are two guys, one girl, they are smiling, a faintly sad look on their face as they try to absorb the fact that I wont be around anymore. I am looking at them when my eyes focus on a girl who walks past us, carefree, I dont know her, She doesnt know me. It wont really make a difference to her when I dont come back next week, She doesnt know me. I wish she did, I wish she knew how it felt to be me, how it is to walk in my shoes. No.

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Really, no I dont. Bless them lord, I dont want her to walk in my shoes. Bless em O Lord, deliver me from the pain, and let them not know how I feel. I look at her one last time and I focus back on my friends. The faces and names who wont remember me a week after I leave, yea, a week, they know me so well. I say thank you for being so kind to me, and I want to hug them all in that moment, they make me feel so complete. When people think you are about to die, they actually listen to you, instead of just waiting for their turn to speak, when you talk, you connect, you bond. And when you leave, you leave with something more than just a meaningless conversation. It feels nice knowing them, and I turn around to walk towards her. I look at her, a faint smile on my face, but a fainter one on hers. I am hoping shed look at me, I think she does, but she doesnt acknowledge. I want her to talk to me one last time. All I want is one last time, wont you deliver me? Please? She looks away. My feet arent even touching the ground anymore; I feel a surreal experience as I walk towards her and my heart leaps when I see her looking at me. She does not. I was just imagining. I say hi to her friends, they are sweet people. Faces and names who tell me they wont forget me, ever. They will, two months, and they will. I smile, and they smile, and she ignores. My mind is screaming. You love me, you ignore me, then you save my life, just to kill me all over again? I just manage a mumble.

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I look around, because looking at her makes my knees go weak. I look up, I see the sunrays blasting their way through the clouds, like beams of beauty, illuminating everything and I smile. Places and names I wont see ever again. Beauty in an abstract dimension. I want to write a song, tell her, you look prettier than that, do you even know that? I manage another mumble instead. I look at her, she looks at me, and she turns around. I wait. She turns back and looks right through me. I can feel her eyes looking through me. Its like her gaze does not settle on me, it moves on. Distant. She doesnt see me. Not anymore. I want her to, I want her to smile at me one last time. Hey! Look, I am going to die. Look at me once. Hey! Look, my souls dying already. Talk to me once. I look up, I see the clouds turn darker, I want to write on them how a part of me is dying and a part of me is already dead. Deliver me O Lord. Deliver me from this pain. I bring my gaze down, I look at the faces and names who wont forget me, yea, they claim that. I see their lips moving, I hear their voices, nothing registers. Someone offers me a gulp of water, are you okay? yea, I am fine look, I am still breathing
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are you sure youre okay? yea, I am fine look my heart is still beating. I smile. I phase out once again, there is no existence and I am not alive. I see light, white light, I want to blink, but I cant, I see a shape in the distance. Something blurred is coming to life. It becomes clearer and clearer, and I see it is her. She looks so happy, she smiles, I extend my hand ahead, I want to feel alive, let me? Please? Let me see how it feels. I go closer, close enough to see her, her hair open, flicking in wind that I cant feel. I extend my hand towards her and she lets her hair fall on my open palm, I can experience it tickle across, I smell that subtle perfume she uses, I hear her voice, I feel alive, and then she fades away. I let out a scream for her but, my voice isnt even audible to me. She doesnt see me anymore and I snap back to reality, I feel someones hand on my arm, it feels cold, I can see it all, but somehow it doesnt register. Someone is trying to shake me, they offer me a gulp of water. Thank you for delivering me. I look up, I let the reality settle on me, it feels more like a cold dark blanket, I let it settle on me. I want it to. I want to feel alive, in that pain I want to feel alive. My heart is throbbing in my chest, I fear it will come tearing out. Yea, my blood is tired of rushing through these veins. In and out my brain, shes running through my veins, shes my sunshine, shes my rain. I snap back from my pseudo-reality. I focus my eyes on her. And I see that she still doesnt see me. She is there, right there and she ignores
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me. I feel so empty and so hollow and so numb and at the same time so full of rage and anger and I can feel it all bustling through me. I just want to take someone and crash on them, punch the air out his lungs and crash him on the floor, pound on his face against the pavement till it is a bloody pulp, a mess so indistinguishable that it only looks like my rage. I want to destroy or get destroyed, at that one moment of incomprehensible rage I choose and I just want to get destroyed. I want her to come hit me. Destroy me. A broken rib can puncture your heart. I know it because it can destroy me and I know it because I want it to. A stab in your stomach can make the acids seep into your abdominal cavity and kill you. I know it because it can destroy me and I know it because, well, I want it to. I dont want to slit my wrists because I feel it is like a caress. Yea, I want to get destroyed so bad. I want to end this rage, I want to end this pain, this white light is blinding me. I want to end it. I hear my name being called out and I snap back to reality. Way too many visions blurring my sight. I want to end em all. She is still looking away, I turn around and as I wipe my forehead I realize how much I just sweat. I feel my heart pounding against my chest and I know I wont last too long. The last thing I want is collapsing in-front of her and having her look down on my limp lifeless body and wonder if it would have been worth it to say a final goodbye. No I dont want it. I

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am a sadist but no, I dont want it. I just want to end it for me. End this ordeal. I look at my friends who are calling out to me, they smile, they tell me Ill be okay. I tell them that once you stop contemplating, fear ends. It is all about knowing, not fearing, just knowing that one day we all are to die. I feel free in that one moment where I am all Zen. I know it all, I know the secret of life. I know how to stare death in the face and tell it how it doesnt scare me. I know it feels good, but.. I am lying. I feel fear; I dont want to be engulfed in oblivion. I dont want to go away with her not knowing how much Im going to miss her. I turn around and she looks away. I feel so helpless that it is almost as if she is mocking me. I try to zone out, I have to leave I tell them all, they say NO! Dont go, stay, youll get better. I tell them I wont. I need to go, be phased out, be forgotten. She needs it. She wants it. The Chinese say, beware what you wish for, you might just get it. Love, look, I am going, I am giving you what you wanted. You happy now? I start walking. My chest hurts. My mind phases out, nothing registers. My knees go weak, I want to collapse, I want to die, I want this to end. It hurts so bad, but I dont want them to know. Names and faces who wont forget me, yea, they wont, if I die there, they wont. I just want to go, I just want her to know I miss her. Yea, say bye to me once? Look here once? My footsteps are shaky but my feet know where I want to go, I just want to escape. I am afraid. I am scared, I just want to run away. I start walking faster, I think I am, I dont really know, the world seems to have slowed down instead. God, deliver me, please? I turn back one last time, she is happy. She smiles, and she doesnt care. The one girl who was supposed to be
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the only one who knows is now the only girl who doesnt care. I say deliver me god, and I feel a sharp pang of pain, and it goes white. Everything disappears, and my last thoughts are simply, thank you lord, for delivering me.

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The Making of a Symphony

The alarm clock startled me awake and I struggled to find the Snooze button, I must have dropped the clock and it stopped ringing. I stuffed my head beneath the pillow and I didnt have to try too hard before I slept off again. I began dreaming, and in my dreams I was running away from something. It was cold, and windy and there was some kind of a stormy beach. I ran and I ran till my feet wouldnt push me any further. I collapsed and I tasted sand, I felt the grain run on my lips and I tried desperately to breathe when a loud noise started piercing my ears. Noise so loud that I wanted to scream but I knew I wouldnt even hear myself. Noise. It was the phone ringing. I woke up again, and tried to find the phone, buried in the quilt somewhere. I took it out, and squinted my eyes to see that it said Boss. I flipped the phone open and pressed it to my ears. Where the hell are you? You were supposed to be in office. Im on my way boss. You are on your way? YOU ARE ON YOUR WAY?? If you arent here in 15 minutes you are fired. Got it, boss. I shut the phone without waiting for him to squish me any further. I closed my eyes, trying to remember my dream. It seemed like the only place I was still free. I knew I was getting late so I let go of my last strands of freedom and went off to put some water on my face. I quickly got into my jeans, slipped on an old faded red t-shirt, it said creativity is about inspiration. Lately I had been without a muse,
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and I had no inspiration. I wore the watch my dad gave when I told him that I needed to go away, be myself, be more than I am. He had just smiled, supported me with the decision and placed this watch in my palms. Told me that it was his grand fathers, and that he hoped someday itll remind me to come back home. With one last quick glance around my apartment, I left. Outside it was raining, softly. I tried to listen to the rhythm of the rain. You dont need to shut down the world, you just need to listen intently, there is music in everything. I heard a coffee maker go shhhhh somewhere, and the carpenters nailing the windows. It was music, in a way, it was. This is what I did for a living, I used to make music. I got my first synthesizer when I was 5. It didnt play much, but it would make car-horn noises. That is when I got addicted to music. It opened a window I didnt know existed, Suddenly I would try to find patterns in the traffic jam horns. Try to find rhythm at the construction sites. I got my acoustic guitar when I was 15, I never found a teacher, so I would just spend hours playing the strings on open hand. Try to make patterns with the 6 notes, try to be different. At 18 I got my first electric guitar, I didnt have a lot of money so I bought a generic distortion pad. It must have been just days before I hooked that to my acoustic guitar to make different music. When I was 19, I took my science classes to the workbench and hooked up my moms old sitar to a distortion pad. When I was 21, I learnt the intricacies of a rhythm machine, and I would spend all nights trying to splice beats. Today, I make stuff that people hum when they are watching their favourite commercials on the TV. I step into my office, a full 8 minutes late from my get-fired-in-15minutes deadline. I am fine with it, I know the boss is busy ogling at his secretary. I make my way to my work-desk. The phones LED is blinking. I pick it up and its my boss. We need the sound track for
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the CRP performance today. They go live at 4. Get it done. I dont even feel like answering, so I just drop the phone back and arch my back on the swivel chair. I close my eyes and try to force a tune in. I am as blank as I could be. I glance at my watch, Its 11:30. I have 4 and a half hours, a blank canvas, and something brilliant to make. I switch off my computers monitor and walk to the studio. Its quiet and empty inside, and I feel at home, it reflects my creative energies right now. Quiet and empty. I sit down on the master desk and stare at the dead controls. I spring up the recorders and leave it on AutoDetect mode and head on to inside the sound proof room. I pick up the fender lying there, the old faithful we call it. Shes beautiful and I pick it up and strum it to see the tuning. It sounds fine. I play a random twirl of tones, Shift to Stairway to Heaven, shift to Hotel California, shift to little wing, shift to silence. I just dont have anything. I close my eyes and try to imagine something, anything that can help me go all inspired. I try to imagine my first crush. I try to imagine her hair in the wind and I play a note. I imagine the river by my house and I try to remember the sound it made when it crashed on the rocks, I have another note, I imagine the apple orchards I grew up in, and I see the redness and I have another note. I see my mom, making food, food I havent had since about 2 years, I play a few more notes. I am playing and I dont know what it is. I go on, and after a few minutes of memory swapping. I drop the attempt and head back out to the mixing room. I play it back to me, and it sounds, fine, but I dont have a rhythm and I dont have a sub-track like bass or violin, and I cant have any unless I have a beat, and I dont have any. I look at my watch, its 1 and I have 3 hours left. I know I am blank so I head out to grab lunch. Or at least air. I walk out and take the street next to ours to go to a coffee shop. I head in and the air smells good,
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it smells of caffeine, and I think I need my dose now. I must have had my eyes close, I must have missed her somehow, but when I accidentally bumped on her and spilled her latte all over the floor and in parts on her purple cardigan, I should have said sorry. I said, WATCH IT, YOU BLIND? There was sudden and absolute silence in the little coffee shop as she looked at me, flabbergasted, anger slowly filling her eyes. I knew what I was in for so I just tried walking away. She grabbed on to my arm and in the shrillest voice I know she told me to shut up and listen. You got a problem? I knew I was wrong here, I should have apologized, I should have gotten out, I should have, I didnt. Yea, I have a problem, I have a problem thats bigger than you not getting a bloody Gucci Bag on your birthday, I have a problem. Theres a bug in my head, and I cant pull it out, and its blocking everything. I cant think, I cant imagine, I am not inspired. I have a boss who will kill me because I cant get a tune right. You know why? Cause I have a problem, and that problem is in my head. Okay? So why dont you just walk along lady, just walk along. She let go of my arm and stood there, silent. I walked on to the next free table and threw myself on it. Silent and embarrassed. I closed my eyes and put my face in my palms. I rubbed my eyes and when I opened them, she was sitting there, in front of me. You make music? I did. I cant do it anymore, Im.. Im sorry I was glad I had finally said it, it felt less awkward now, and I was almost certain she wont slap me. She wasnt smiling, but I tried to. And she looked atme, straight in my eyes, and said, close your eyes and listen to the sounds of the world, if you know how to listen there is music everywhere. It was funny to me, she was sitting there and telling me about music, telling me things I had lived by since I was 5. But I
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listened, I did what she asked me to do. And I heard it, a soft tapping of the table, it was perfect, it was the rhythm I was looking for. I opened my eyes and saw her tapping away at the table. She was it. Dont freak out, but I am going to ask you to come with me, youre what I was looking for, the rhythm that was missing in my symphony. She looked confused, I dont even know you, I dont even know your name!. just come, please and I got up, I dont know why she did it, but she did, she got up and we went back to the studio. She settled in so fast, as if she knew what she was doing. Within minutes she was ready with her beats, and We fit them in and then suddenly she stopped. let me do this? And without waiting for an answer she took control of the beat machine. I stopped and stared and I saw her make magic. I saw her turn my random picking on the guitar and her rhythm of the tapping of the table into magic. I saw her make it. Right there, in front of me. I glanced at my watch, it was 3:45. I didnt care, I looked back at her and saw her let go. She was making sheer genius. At 4, my boss entered the listening room, I went to them with the final sample, and I played it. Everyone listened to it with pin-drop silence. It was a true symphony. They smiled, exchanged hushed conversation and stood up and left. I waited for them to leave, and then I ran back to the master room, to say thanks. To tell her that she had saved it, to tell her that she had made magic. But I found the room to be empty. I found it to be deserted. I looked around, and asked people. No one had seen her leave. No one had seen her walk in. I dont know what happened that day, I never found her again, but in my head, in her image I found my muse and the making of my symphony.
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Chaos
You know the thing they say about chaos, It is fair. I look out the window, it is raining and the drops of water slowly tremble their way down to the sill. It is a cold December day and somehow the cold breeze has found its way into my little room and is sending shivers down my spine. I look at my watch, it is 10:23. The metallic case glistens in the incandescent light as I watch the secondhand turn around, slowly, steadily, ticking away moments from my life. I open the windowpane and close my eyes, and let the raindrops wet my face, the night is cold, and it just got colder. My neck feels stiff, trivial stuff really. I take out a pack of cigarettes from my pocket and raise one to my lips, I take out the handcrafted lighter, it is a classic piece, I open it, and spark it up, and I watch the cigarette burn and close my eyes as I take a drag. I open my eyes and breathe out, It is time. I walk towards the door and as I do, I take one last look around me, the room is perfectly organized, every bit where it belongs, too sad, it wont be here for long. If you take enough explosive and it wrap it around a buildings foundation columns, and then wrap sandbags around it, you cause an inward explosion, it forces the columns to crumble under their own weight, and the building follows. If you want a dramatic effect, wrap plastic explosives around the windowpanes, the sickening sound of metal crushing down on glass always creates an impact. I decide against talking the elevator, I want to walk the steps. Slowly contemplating everything that I have planned. Existence is defined by the choices we make and I have made one today that I wont get a chance to regret. Every step that I climb makes me feel lighter and
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closer to what I wanted. I close my eyes once more, letting everything settle in. Beyond these walls lies a world, completely unaware of what is going to hit them, inside is a world that will be hit soon, very soon. I reach the top floor, and see the locked grill that leads to the terrace. I take out a key chain and find the right key, today nothing is going to stop me, I had this bit planned out, I unlock the door and out I am on the rainy cold night. The world sleeping around me, I walk to the edge and close my eyes letting the rain wet my face again, it keeps hitting me like whiplashes, I zone out and I am floating now. I can see the world crumbling down to dust around me, Oblivion, the condition of being forgotten by everyone. I feel the cold wind stinging on my cheeks and it brings me back to reality. I am ready, and in that one moment, I feel complete. Random variable generation has always been of key importance to computer programming, and today it will help in the creation of chaos. Inside my little room I have a PC generating random numbers, an array of 39 random numbers to be precise, each assigned to a charge that I have connected to the foundation columns of the building, some connected to the auxiliary charges attached to other key structure points. I have it all arranged and ready; the random numbers will keep getting generated till I decide the generation to stop. Once the array is ready the detonation will begin, starting from the charge that was assigned the smallest random number, and rising to the one that had the largest random number. The sequence in which the charges blow will deeply affect the course a falling tower will take. It may collapse inwards or in a particular direction outwards. When the charges begin exploding the building will come crashing down with it, leaving behind a trail of chaos.

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On the roof ledge I can see the glistening city, so alive, and yet so distant. They dont care about me, now they will. I pull out a small transmitter from my front pocket, it has a small red button on it and a blinking red LED, a small moment of contemplation and I press the red button. I hear a faint thud, then a sickening crunch. The building lurches forward, I stagger to keep my balance, I hear another thud and then a rapid series of explosions, I wonder how, where I am standing right now will soon just be a point in the sky, suddenly I see glass exploding from under my feet, it seems like the dramatic effect explosions have given way, I spread my arms in the spread eagle form and I jump forward. I hear a massive crunch and the 21 storey tower starts crumbling down. I can see flames, explosive clouds of dust, beneath me the ground is moving towards me at incomprehensible speed, but time has slowed down for me, I am absorbing the life I have led so far and letting it flow out, the wind feels nice on my skin, cold, chilly, lonely. It takes a few seconds and I hit the ground, followed by the crumbling building which will cover me with rubble, and in that last moment which you might think got over in a flash, I feel, free. You know the thing they say about chaos. It is fair.

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Edge
The coffee table vibrated as my cell phone rang, I picked it up and saw that it was from someone whos call I had been expecting for the past half an hour, we greet each other formally and I tell him how I have the exact files ready to be mailed over if he has already received the header pages, he tells me that I should mail the data immediately and as he says so he tells me how he has a new email address and how I should take it down and then all I can hear is static and I assume all he can hear is silence and what I know for a fact is that everyone else can hear me ranting loudly hello! HELLO!! it is getting ruder and the network seems to have decided not to cover this nice little caf in the very crowded areas of the marketplace right next to the University Campus, I leave my laptop and my handbag on my table, next to an empty cup of cappuccino and a small unopened sachet of sugar right. A few tables behind mine sit a young couple, and I hear the guy telling the girl how he would love her forever, somewhere behind them a few youngsters sit and practice songs as one of them strums his guitar. The hum drum is only added to, when the waiter calls out for someone who has ordered a Chocolate Desert. I step out onto the street and feel the faint drops of the windy drizzle, it blows past me and in no time my spectacle lens is covered with splatters. I get better reception and as I speak to the man with renewed vigor, I feel a tug on my coat, I turn around to see there is a young boy, barely five, holding a sack slung over his shoulder, his clothes are torn and dirty. There is a distant vague look on his face and his eyes are full of pain, and he is barefoot. Seeing his bare feet touch the puddle of cold water sends a shiver down my own spine,
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but I need to take this call, and I cant talk to two people at the same time, so I ask him to go look somewhere else, reluctantly he leaves, and I continue speaking on the phone. Two minutes later I am done with the call and am ready to head back in, go back to my laptop which is connected to my companys network and to the steaming hot cup of black coffee and to the incessant noise the university students make as they chose to spend their lecture hours in the warm comfort of a caf instead of in their classrooms. That is when I catch a glimpse of that boy, he is begging and a middle aged lady, dressed as if heading for a rather gala event is, in a rather rude fashion, asking him to leave. He lets go, and turns around to this guy, who probably mouths an abuse and moves on, he looks around with vacant eyes and sees a group of girls, who ignore him and walk on, he looks towards me, for a moment I can feel his vacant gaze on me too, but it isnt so, he turns around and asks another man for a few coins, and then instead of the coins, I see that boy being pushed away, he was five, and I see him falling down on his back, I leap forward with staggered steps to help him get up, and I see that apparently no one else cares. I pull him up and ask him to come with me, he hesitates but I can see he is hurt, and very weak and so he lets me lead him, I take him to the entry of the caf and ask him to leave his sack outside and lead him inside. He looks so starved, and I see that look grow exponentially as he sees everyone else enjoy something or the other, I ask the waiter to get him a sandwich and ask him to sit on the chair opposite mine, he sits there, his eyes transfixed on me and my laptop. The food comes and he lurches at it, it makes me wonder how long has it been since the kid ate, suddenly I feel the table vibrate again and I see my cellphone flashing, I pick it up and head outside for a quick, clear call, and in those sixty seconds something terrible happens.
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He was five years old, never saw his parents, had grown up with other street kids and hadnt had a square meal since two days. His bag was full of plastic bottles and he was alternating between begging and scavenging. Seeing a warm meal he couldnt resist himself and he ended up biting a sizable portion of the sandwich and suddenly he realized he had stuffed himself a little too much, he felt the bread choke him and before he could raise an alarm, he was choking, ironically, over his first warm meal in days. I heard someone shriek, and I turned around to face the entry to the caf and saw someone point towards my table and I saw the young boy in tatters coughing, gagging. I ran towards him and picked him up from behind and tried the move I had learnt ages back in a first aid class, holding him from his waist I try to get him to spit out the piece of bread that is choking him, I whisper in his ears, frantic whispers, I ask him to breathe, and with a staggering motion the bread is out and he is down on the floor, weeping, spitting and finally, breathing. Like every breathe was his last one, he took deep breaths, almost savoring the air. I look up to find everyone in the caf surrounding him and me. Having dead serious looks, worried looks. Someone was murmuring a prayer, someone looked stunned, someone was getting water for him. They helped him get up and propped him on a chair and gave him their full attention. They pat his matted hair and told him he would be okay, they told him everything will go alright, they offered him water, they offered him love and care. I ask everyone in a loud voice to give him some space to breathe fresh air, and the sudden eruption in the crowd subsides. He is sitting there, speechless, on the chair, with a disposable glass of water in-front of him. He stays on the streets, out in the cold, his everyday life is what we dread to be close to being dead and yet seeing him go through that
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near-death experience makes the hair on my arms stand up, makes me shiver. In that one moment it seemed the whole world cared what happened to him. All those people were hugging him and petting his hair. Everybody asked if he was okay. It seemed that moment would last forever. That you had to risk your life to get love. You had to get right to the edge of death to ever be saved. Five minutes back, he was another boy in the crowd of street children who were being pushed around, no one loved them, no one cared and yet, now there he was, the center of everyones prayers, attention, love and care. Yes, You had to get right to the edge of death to ever be saved, You had to risk your life to get loved.

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Remembrance
I can float freely. I rise up and I keep rising till I am touching the clouds, and I spread my palm and run my open hand thru the cloudscape, you might think itll feel fluffy or maybe moist or any such thing. The truth is, I dont really know how it feels like, for I cant feel anything. Erase that raised brow, you seem to have forgotten that I was floating, isnt that slightly more unusual than the fact that I cant feel anything on my palm? Well you see, I am apparently what you so fondly call a spirit, a ghost, a partial existence. Dont ask me how it feels, for it feels different. I cant see myself really. I was hoping for a translucent body or something similar, maybe wings and a halo? Okay fine, even a devils tail would do. But nope there are none. In fact I feel like some accumulated energy rather than a being anymore. So yes, I am free now, or so I hoped. I can float, and the laws of physics dont apply to me anymore so I can pass through walls and such kind of stuff. No I cant pick up things and throw them at others but then I dont want to do that either. I swoop down and enter a very familiar building, I used to call it home. I move thru the corridors, I know the entire place like the back of my hand, I close my surreal eyes and I can still move without hitting anything. Only that I dont think hitting anything would make a difference anymore. The sights and sounds make me feel weird so I swoop back up into the cold clear night. I wish it would rain tonight, but then I cant drench in it anymore. If you are wondering how I died, well then, here is it in a nutshell. I am a water baby, oh sorry, I WAS a water baby, loved to go
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swimming, there was something about water that relaxed me, and it never occurred to me that I would end up dead because of it. It was a warm summer day, I loved to go for drives and I quietly slipped out of the house with dads car keys. Lazy afternoon, Pink Floyd on loud speakers and an open road, It seemed nothing could get better, Uncharted territories and forbidden ones too were always a sweet temptation and that day I had decided to go on this one road that led deep into the valley, I started driving and soon enough I was far away from the town, away from the sounds and sights that I was so bored of, away from the highways and proper roads, I was driving on a mud track and driving along a stream, as I drove on I found a grassy patch right next to the track and I parked the car there, the stream glistened in the sunshine, temptation got over me and I ventured out near the stream, the water was crystal clear, and didnt seem too deep, I turned around rushed back to the car, kept my cellphone, iPod and wallet in the glove compartment and locked the car, I rushed back and stripped down to the bare essentials, and I stepped into the water, it was cold, but it felt good, I let it wet my feet for a bit and then I walked a few steps away and then running towards the water I jumped, it must have been a sight, the water splashing all around, glistening in the sun, it was so clear that I opened my eyes and could see all around me, I swam for a bit and then I let my feet rest on the bedrock, too bad that it was covered with moss, too bad that it was slippery, too bad that I lost my footing, too bad that my head hit the nearby rock and too bad that I lost consciousness, I drifted downstream for a bit and probably ended up being cornered into a fallen trees branches, My feet were tangled and I was being pulled down by the current, drowning was the last sort of death I wanted, I

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was pulled down and I struggled to go back up, I couldnt, I struggled to get some air, I couldnt. When you are drowning, your blood accumulates CO2 and that makes you want to breathe harder, your vision starts tunneling, eventually your reasoning fades away and you part your lips and your body involuntarily makes you breathe, only that you dont breathe air, you breathe-in water. It hurts, burns your throat and your lungs and and it hurts a bit more, till the pain becomes unbearable and then you phase out, and well, then you die. There were no bright lights at the end of the tunnel, no words from God, no gates of heaven, I just ended up becoming energy, an accumulation of energy. And well the rest you know. What I kept wondering was why did I not go to, you know, heaven or hell. Why was I stuck here in this world, I mean really, I didnt want revenge from anyone, no one had conspired against me, what was keeping me back here?! I was still floating above my home when suddenly I felt something, yes I most certainly felt something, I hadnt felt anything ever since you know, my death, but I was feeling something now, and it was heat, my chest felt warmer, to be precise, my heart felt warm. This was even more confusing since until now I couldnt even feel a thing, and suddenly I was flooded with so many sensory inputs. And then I felt gravity, I was suddenly falling, only that I was being pulled in a very precise direction, and before I knew it I was rushing through an open window into a room. She caught a glimpse of the curtains move, she felt the sudden cold breeze, she felt a rustle in her ears and she definitely felt a presence. She wiped her tears and looked back down on the photograph in her hands. It was him and her, a few weeks back during one of the stolen moments during a party. He had his arms wrapped around her waist
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tightly and there was a glint in his eyes that had always caught her attention, she felt a cold sensation come all over her and then brushing her hair away from her face she whispered, I loved you, and I still do The warmth in my heart was rising and I felt what I had always claimed I dont feel and it suddenly hit me why I was still here, it had been three nights before that fateful day, over a phone conversation I had told her.. I dont feel loved There was a deafening silence and then a moment later she whispered I love you I had heard that before, I just didnt feel it, and in a completely disconnected tone I told her Would you even miss me if I die? And she spoke, her voice breaking down as she did I love you, and my love will make sure that you dont go away, ever. Someday youll believe it, I love you She was right, her love had made sure I wouldnt go away, and I did believe, I did believe it now and with that I stopped feeling that warmth, and slowly I felt that accumulation of energy disintegrate, I dont know if she could really feel what I wanted to say, but I whispered it anyways, I love you, and I believe it now

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Pain
Death in this forsaken world can come in a million ways, but then sometimes even the devil can't fathom them... The beep resonated unrealistically loud in his bare-walled room, it signaled the end of the call but she was still with him, slowly his arm lowered, silently absorbing the numbness of the situation, a result of his own mistakes. With a sudden and rather abrupt movement of his hand the cellphone came crashing down on the floor. The sickening crunch of metal on glass as the steel-body cracked down on the LCD display which flickered her photo on itself for a moment before it was shattered to a million bits, and yet, those eyes were empty, void of emotions, or maybe they were just too distant. His eyes, now just beginning to water, sparkled in the artificial incandescent light of his room, one could swear there were wise thoughts in them. Suddenly his fingers trembled, as if shocks were happening on the finger-tips, an impulse like feeling shot from his brain into his spine, then spread into his entire body, a shivering followed and his knees became weak. He came crashing down, the shards of broken glass piercing through his jeans into his knees, and the many pieces which got embedded on his bare-palm. He didn't even flinch a muscle, his eyes didn't blink. They were still so distant, then as if an invisible hand began choking him, he started gasping for breath. That hand which was choking him had apparently now caught hold of his heart, refusing to let it beat, refusing to let it pump anymore, as if mocking at his destiny and making him wonder if there was a reason to live. Darkness began to close in on him, a tear drop ran down his cheek and fell on the floor, the crimson drops of blood flowing out of the fresh wounds on his palms, but unlike the cliche " a warm liquid trickling down" what he felt was darkness, a cold sensation
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enveloping him and settling in. He felt frozen as if nothing was real anymore. "Why god!? Why!? How can this be the will of God? I swear i didn't do anything wrong..." he didn't get any answers, no divine intervention to quench him, to let him live..Darkness overpowered him, his eyes shut completely, he thought it was the end. Death, in this forsaken world...Death was a welcome vista now, a liberating experience, and he, for a moment welcomed the entire sensation, he savoured the freedom from all earthly pains but then..pleasures too..The image of him running his fingers through her hair faded in and out of his mind. Then with a strong stuttering he suddenly gasped for air once again. Pain came gushing back, he parted his eyelids and allowed his dilated pupils to flood them with the artificial light, then came pain, more pain, more pain till it became unbearable, till he felt cold ice blocks burning his heart and smoldering hot prick on his limbs, more pain till his mind started throbbing with it, more pain till his body became too numb to handle it, more pain. He withered down in agony, was he gasping for air or letting out an inaudible scream for mercy was unclear. Then as he began to hallucinate, he saw her, the burning pain still shooting from his neck. She was so pretty, so beautiful, so perfect. She was so near yet so very distant. He stretched out his arm to reach for her, she kept getting away, before he could realize she vanished into smoke. He returned to his senses, which also meant returning to the pain. It took him a little while to realize where he was now. His body ached with every move he made, he saw the white walls, the imperfectly done whitewash with the brush marks more than clearly visible. He saw his own blood, shimmering, small shinning drops of crimson. Another shot of pain, straight to his heart, it was so much
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pain that he closed his eyes. A drop of tear rolled out of the bloodshot but shut eyes. He imagined her once again, this time more clearly, his senses playing tricks on him, touching her hair, teasing her, smelling her perfume, listening to her voice...the voice began to fade away, he strained his ears to listen, but all he got was silence, another surge of cold darkness. His heart making all the possible efforts to pump some blood, keep him conscious. It was seemingly making futile attempts. His eyes opened once again, but the scene around him didn't settle in. He just kept wondering, "why?" was he not true? hadn't he loved her? Like a mocking laugh a Shakespearean quote started ringing in his head " The course of true love never hath run smooth" but then, he asked himself, "wasn't my love pristine?" The questions kept pouring in, his brain kept throbbing, her voice in his head.."do you even understand me?" another surge, this time far more painful to handle, he let the pain close in on him, making no attempts or efforts to push it away, as if submitting to it, The freezing cold, the darkness, the pain, all engulfed him. He lost his senses, vision faded away, followed by sound and touch, but then suddenly a weird feeling came over him, he heard her voice once again, heard a faint "Goodbye" and then the unrealistically loud resonated beep. The call had ended but she was still there with him. It was true, the pain that his mind could make him go through was far deeper and darker, far more treacherous. Death in this forsaken world can come in a million ways, but then sometimes even the devil can't fathom them...

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I just want to live before I die.

It was a beautiful august morning, there was not a cloud in the sky, and the city was its usual bustling self. I was 16, and when youre 16 you dont think about where you want to be 10 years down the line. You dont think of all the things you didnt do, because, well, lets accept it, theres little that you can accomplish in per-say terms. Do you remember the days when you were 16? When the magic of the first kiss is still not far back in the history books, When every morning is a battle against the alarm clock, when every pretty girl makes your heart want to stop. I was sitting in my class, learning about mechanics and rotational motion. We were passing messages, someone was probably listening to music via carefully concealed earplugs at the end of the class, some were pretending to study. I was just doodling. It must have been a scary moment, I remember parts of it now, but one moment I was breathing, the second one I couldnt. I felt the strongest strobe of pain in my chest and before I could grab myself I couldnt breathe. The lights went bright and I dont know for how long I kept my eyes shut and my fist clenched tight. When I opened them again I could feel beads of sweat on my forehead. I staggered my way down the staircase and when I was out, I felt it. A strong surge of pain, and adrenaline and I felt weak in my knees and somehow I managed to call my sister and asked her to come for me. For once, I felt like I needed help, and that I needed someone to hold me up. She was there within a few minutes, she had a worried look from the minute she saw me. I propped myself on the passenger seat of her car and she drove off. Her car smelled of a cocktail of perfumes. Women who had sat here before had been, generous with their
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dollops of scent. I felt nauseated, but I held on. By the time we reached back home I had started feeling better, My feet had gone back steady and I wasnt sweating anymore. I walked up on my own and while the extended family wondered what to do about my situation I sat and I ate a good full lunch. It must have been at least 40 minutes before they announced that I should be taken to a basic lab for some preliminary tests. We left again, I felt fine, the world felt fine. When we reached the lab, I had almost returned to my chirpy self. And I entered the lab with a smile. The smell of disinfectants had an instant effect and my feet were shaking once again. They asked me to sit down and relax, a few minutes later a young woman came towards me and took my wrist to see my pulse rate. She let go of my wrist and mumbled, the doctor asked for her to be louder and she said, hes just come in from outside, give it a minute, hell be fine I was just as surprised as everyone else and then she stopped and said out loud, his pulse is very erratic. I did not know how to react so I kept quiet, ten minutes later she was there again. This time her expressions were even further serious and she recommended an ECG to be done. I was 16. I did not want an ECG. You know things arent right when the doctor glances at the ECG report and then they all nod and they ask you to leave the room. You know things arent right when your guardians and your doctors decide to have a private word without you knowing the contents, you know things arent right when your uncle rushes out of the clinic with a look so scary, and asks you to follow him to go see a cardiologist. You know things arent right when the cardiologist looks at your ECG, then looks at you and nods, nods a no. When the tests confirmed that there had been a blood clot pass through my heart and that the doctors had no idea where it was at
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present, I had begun feeling the first pangs of fear and panic. I think I lost it when the doctors came inside and took my hand and said, dont worry, itll be okay. When a doctor takes your hand and says its gonna be okay, what they mean to say is, its never going to be okay. When they give you unmarked medicines that make you drowsy you know its never going to be okay, when you shut your eyes not knowing if you will wake up alive, its never going to be okay. For 4 years I battled something I did not understand. Something that was almost certainly going to win. For 4 years I did not sleep soundly because I was too afraid of waking up as a corpse, cold as ice. For 4 years I did not love because, you know, you are going to die and you are scared that youll hurt someone and you know, when death is a looming factor, then you take karma way too seriously. I am 20 now, and its not good. Eventually you understand that death is the only certainty, the only definitive stage. Everything else is workable and manageable. Eventually you stop fearing death and take it to be a part of yourself, but when you sleep every night and beg God to let you see another day, you know its never going to be the same. Eventually you just want to live before you die. Live life, the way you never felt was necessary before. Live life the way you would if you were to die tomorrow.

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Fear
Walking home everynight had soon become a monotonous daily happening, unquestioned, unchallenged. So when that particular evening he got stuck up at work for long it didnt even flinch a cell in his body, it was after all the usual walk back home. He got up from his chair, wore the long black overcoat and stepped out of the cubicle, he heard a soft meow of a cat somewhere, arched his eyebrow and continued walking out. The numerical display that signals the arriving of the elevator was the first sign, the red LEDs didnt seem to glow red, they had a typical blood tinge to them, and the way the numbers changed from 20 to 15 was almost like a bloody countdown. 20. 19.

The first sense of disturbing filled him as the hair on his arms twitched under the covers of his coat, 18.

His heart started beating faster, 17.

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His eyes were transfixed on the display, the fists clenched tightly subconsciously, 16.

He thought he heard something and just as he turned around to look, an ominous ring filled the empty corridor, he was startled back to reality, 15.

The elevator doors opened, outside he saw the windows had drops of rain, suddenly the walk back home didnt seem normal anymore. As the elevator doors closed he felt weirdly alone, besides the obvious fact that he was alone in the elevator, he felt a mysterious feeling of being lonely, desolated, hurled into oblivion. The hushed humming of the descending elevator gave him company, the countdown continued, he almost expected the elevator to claw in on him as the red LED display reached 3,2,1. G. Another loud resonated beep and the doors opened. It is scary when your nightmares start turning true, his was, quite simply, being alone. As he stepped out and looked around, he realized his nightmares couldnt have manifested itself in a deeper and darker way. Empty. The reception desk was unattended and so was the hallway, at times even the most normal of things can scare us. The news channel that was running on mute in the reception was showing gory pictures of a war, suddenly an advertisement of a little girl, in black and white, holding a lollipop
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intervened, she didnt smile. He almost felt mocked, and then the screen went black. A sensation that couldnt be described in words or maybe, just maybe is too heart wrenching that words themselves surrender, was rising inside of him, he felt as if his guts were being pulled in, soon he could feel his heart thump in his chest, he would have stayed in that trance like state for longer had a shadow not swayed in-front of him, he could never figure out what it was, maybe just a fragment of his imagination, maybe just the lightening playing tricks on him, but it shook him, he quickly began walking, Five minutes later he was out on the wet road, the clicks of his leather shoes on the granite floor of the reception had long been muted but the worse wasnt over yet. That thumping was still very much there, and when a dust speck entered his eye and blinded him for a moment, that is when he felt, fear. The deepest of fears, suddenly his feeling of helplessness was incredibly severe, the fact that he couldnt see around him felt as if he couldnt defend himself anymore, the lightning could not be seen, but he could feel the blinding glow, the cold rain drops hit him like the bullets and paralyzed with fear, he got down on his knees, the water puddle on the road soaked through and he felt the icy water on his knees, it wasnt the cold water that was making him tremble, it wasnt that dark night which was making him crave for light, it was that cold, dark blanket of fear, that was choking his mind.

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Dear Ann
I know you wont like most of what I will write here, but you must know what has brought me here today. I had absolutely no rhyme or reason to visit this hospital the day when I first saw you. Someone I knew had fallen sick and I should have kept to the route marked on the brochure, I should not have taken the shortcut through the oncology department. I should not have slowed down on seeing an open room, I should not have stopped on seeing a girl cry, alone. But I did. I think you must have figured out by now that I dont have any aunt who is also in oncology. She does not have breast cancer and I only said that because I wanted to talk to you, I only wanted to talk because I did not want to see someone be as sad as you were that day. You wiped those tears off in quick jerky motions and asked me to get the fuck out of your room, I should have left, I should have never come back but I sat down instead, and I told you that it will all be okay. I should have never lied. The next day when I came by just to see you, you werent there. You had gone off for some tests I believe and I felt disconnected. I saw your name for the first time then, Ann White. Your hospital records were right there, suddenly I knew your birthday, your address and the fact that you were alone. You were too young to be alone, too young to have cancer. I think I died a little inside that day, I shouldnt have, I was in the oncology department, what else should I have expected? But I died in that one minute and suddenly I felt as if I owe you a debt, a debt because, because. I could never figure that out. When you came propping by an hour later and found me there you didnt smile, you were too tired to scream too, you just quietly asked me to leave, and I did, but I knew Id come back.
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The following week I saw you hooked to those machines for the first time. Pipes and tubes running from all over your body. Sucking the life out of you. It was an August morning when I was sitting next to your bed and reading a newspaper when you had your first massive seizure. When I saw morphine being pumped into you because you were in so much pain. When I saw you cry because you were in so much pain. I remember how we started talking because you were too tired of me visiting you and going back without saying a word, and how you hated the soup there. We bonded over the sucky soup. But we bonded. It was a week later when I came to see you and tapped on your vitals monitor and pointed out how it seemed in good shape when I saw you shiver, you didnt answer me and I saw you shiver and I did not know what to do. That evening you acted like nothing had happened, you kept talking like nothing had happened. You kept reading that book on Learning French like nothing was wrong. You read it like you would need French soon, you kept living and every night I died a little more inside when I saw you living like this, knowing everything. I should have kept this from you, how I felt. But I didnt and you asked me to leave. You felt like I was trying to make you feel weaker, alone, dead. But I wanted you to know that I knew how strong you were, how alive you were. I just could never get it through. A month and half since I had known you is when you went into your semi conscious state. Too weak to ask me to leave. I always told myself that you like me next to you, I hope you did. Maybe I should have left too but I couldnt. And I spent 13 nights on that couch next to your bed, waiting for a good news, waiting. When the doctors told me that there was nothing they could do. When they told me that it was the end, I was not ready to accept it, and I didnt. I stayed on. On the 14th day you left me Ann.
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Im placing this letter next to you, I hope somehow it reaches you, wherever you are. And I hope youre in a happier place now. Love S.

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Shimmer
I see a slight glow in the distance, and as I move closer I realize the ground is slipping under my feet. Then I see her, distant and smiling. And she extends her arm and says, Come On Shes too far away for me to hold, but I can almost feel her. She is shimmering in a glow that seems to have no origin on the outside physical plane. I can see it erupt from within her and her skin is shimmering in a way that would normally make you want to squint your eyes, right now however, it only makes me want to gaze at her as much as I can. I try to remember where I was before it all started, my memory is failing me. I can remember being cold, and alone. I remember being instable and on shaky grounds. I remember being scared. And then I remember her voice, calling out my name. I am still walking behind her, her glow guiding me. She isnt speaking and I can almost feel like there is so much inside of her that I dont understand and that I want to be one with. She stops turns around, and says, in a voice so sweet, that Zeus harps would be ashamed of their existence, Ill be the friend, lets forget your past? I think of how this might be the best moment of my life, and how this is the bend on the road that had hidden the brightness from me till now. I feel free in my head and that is when I feel the coldness creep back in, all that shimmers, is sure to fade. I pray, not her. She starts walking again, and I am still following her, I can see shades of strawberry pink, lavender and purple run from her feet almost as if she is floating a little above the ground and these shades are slowly colouring my world.
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My reality escapes me and I look at her and I know shes the one, shes the saviour. And she stops, turns around and says, in that same voice, Love is for fools, dont fall behind Can I never know a killer from a saviour? Can I never guess whats beyond that bend? Can I never hold on? She shimmers again, brighter. And in that moment I know my answer. It is not about yesterday, it is not about tomorrow. It is not about where you have come from or where you are planning to go, it is about right now. That is what makes it worth the living, and I reach out and touch her. I wake up calmly and see her sleeping beside me, silent, her breath short and quiet. The morning sun rays break through the window and leave a sparkle on her bare back. All that shimmers is sure to fade away, but we both, we are here right now. And we may never be here again. I hug her and let myself drift off into the whiff of her hair, as I close my eyes, I see her, shimmer.

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Acknowledgement

A few words of thanks are due by now, this is for the people who have helped shape this book in their own little way. Annima Bahukhandi, Thank you, you are an integral part of my work. Prateek N Kumar, Thank you, you have always been brilliant. Uday S Kanwar, Thank you, without you, I would not have written so much, you have nudged me in the right direction, always. Ma & Dad, Thank you both, for believing in me and reading what I wrote even when you were too tired to. And a thank you, to everyone who read my work when it was posted up online in parts. For reading, liking, disliking, criticizing, commending, commenting and ignoring my work. You inspired me and motivated me to write more and write better. I would say thanks to the Lord as well, but then I think, he knows it by now.