Conversations

From the light, into darkness...

2006-11-29T13:25:00.000+05:30

Born Stinger goes from this:

to this:

“Born Stinger a.k.a. Shrikant Joshi cordially invites you to the house-warming ceremony of his new residence online, 42 Quirks.
http://42quirks.com

The opening ceremony will take place at a time and place convenient to you. The ceremony will be open from morning till night 24/7, 365 days of the year.

Do drop by and bestow your blessings to this humble abode of mine.”

To all those of you who patiently waited for me to overcome my laziness: a BIG thank you. To those who didn't/couldn't wait enough: [:P]

Update your book marks!! :D Regards, Shrikant Joshi, a.k.a Born Stinger.

The death of Born Stinger.

2006-10-11T00:46:00.000+05:30

...or something to that effect Conversations is gonna get a new address and a brand new identity. I am planning to combine all my existing blogs ( a total of three with four repetitions each) into one single blog across one single domain... And Born Stinger shall then cease to exist. Drop in your comments and I might act horrendously benevolent and 'gift' you the scariest thing you have ever seen. A signed picture of moi. Please note that requests for scary pictures is open now. Early birds get a worm. No, it won't be signed. They are too slippery to sign. So, there.

The Call - Part IV

2006-05-10T02:10:00.000+05:30

The story so far: The coicidences reveal themselves. Turns out he's been talking to the grim reaper all this while. Struggling to get a hold on this revelation, he looks to clarify the situation. But it is difficult to hold a conversation, especially when you don't know who you are talking to. And then there's a knock on the door...

Sandy, his secretary, entered carrying a sheaf of papers, presumably more invoices for him to sign. She was engrossed in the papers. Silently, she approached his table, put the papers in front of him, and stood back and looked at him. And then, she noticed the little drops of perspiration on his fore-head. "Is everything alright, sir? Are you ok?" "Uhh, err.. no. I mean, yes, I am fine. Ummm... well... yeah, I am fine." He signed the papers and gave them back to her. It was an invoice for ordering some equipment. He flicked the thought away from his mind as soon as he registered it. Obviously, there were other more important things to think about." "Sandy, wait." He called back after her. "You didn't, by any chance, hear something strange outside, did you?" She furrowed her brow in thought and replied slowly, "Now that you mention it, I think I heard something." "What? What did you hear?" He almost grabbed her. She was both bewildered and scared by his actions. He realized his foolishness and immediately let her go. Somewhat awkward and frightened, Sandy instinctively took a step back. "I am... I am sorry." He drew a long breath. "What was it that you heard?" He had seen the expression of nervousness and panic beginning to set in on her face. "Umm, well I thought I heard some noises in your room, and..." Sandy "She's right," the voice again. "Did you hear that?" he almost shouted to Sandy. "Hear what?" Sandy asked, with a hint of apprehension and confusion in her voice which had already reached the tremolo point. "C'mon, you think she can hear me? You know what, you gotta start believing in me by now." the voice had a sadistic edge to it. It was as if the entity behind the voice was beginning to enjoy the beginning of an insanity. An insanity for which it was the cause. "No... nothing. Forget it." "Are you sure? Do you want me to get you a doctor or something?" - Sandy again. "No... no... it's fine. I am fine..." he said. "Sir, I think, I should - " "I SAID I AM FINE!! JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!!" This time he did shout. Sandy looked at him in horror and with her slender little fingers on her mouth hastily stepped out. The office would start buzzing with the news in a short while now. But that was the least of his current concerns. "Tch, tch. You shouldn't have yelled at her like that. Poor thing. She's all shaken up now. Look what you did to her..." And then the walls in front of him dissolved into thin air and he saw a crowd outside, right in front of Sandy's desk. She was sobbing and somebody passed he a Kleenex. She took the Kleenex and continued sobbing. One or two of the other employees, shot curious glances at his cabin door. The other women were trying to cajole her and console her. They tried, at the same time, to coax her to tell them what had happened. And then the opacity of the walls returned and all was as before. He groaned and made for his chair.

Technorati Tags: story, bizarre, conversation

The Call - Part III

2006-05-10T01:22:00.000+05:30

The story until now: A bizarre series of coincidences has left him wondering. Apparently, he is not accustomed to things going perfectly well in his life. While he is wondering about these banalities, something strange happens...

Strangely, he remained calm and unperturbed. I can't possibly have heard that, he thought, I must be hallucinating. "No, you're not." Again. The same voice. "Who are you?" His voice betrayed a hint of fear. There was no answer. "Hello?? Are you there?" "Yes. I am here." "But, who are you?" "How does it matter?" "Erm, I think, I need to know who I am talking to, I guess..." "Why?" Beacuse, I can't be talking to a voice, he wanted to say. But he thought better of it and instead said, "It's better that way, I think" "What if I told you I am no one? What if I told you I am simply a voice?" He looked up, startled. Could this thing, this voice, read his mind? Did it read his mind? Or was it a lucky coincidence? Who was it? Rather, what was it? Before he could say anything, the voice prodded on. "What if I told you I am real and yet unreal? That I am everywhere and yet nowhere? That I am no one and everyone? That I am what you belive and what you don't? What if I said, I am right here, where you can see me, and yet you cannot, or rather, don't want to? Would you believe me, then?" "No way! That's impossible!" "Why?" "Because, then you would have to be God!" "Good, that's close enough." "What?" "You heard me the first time." He reeled back, trying to comprehend the situation. This can't be happening, he thought to himself. I can't be talking to... to... He couldn't bring himself to utter the words. "Oh, come on! Don't be so naive! You have been expecting me haven't you?" "What? No, no... You... I... No... Wait, there's -" " - nothing to say." The voice jutted in. "It's time now. Let's start, before we get too late." So, this is it? This is how it happens? I had imagined it to be a little more grand. I think I deserve much better. Wait a minute, you can read my thoughts, can't you? You know what I am thinking. Why don't you answer me, then? At that precise moment, there was a knock, and the door opened. To be continued... Technorati Tags: story, call, bizarre, conversation

The Call - Part 2

2006-04-12T21:16:00.000+05:30

The story until now: He met someone he did not expect to meet. And he was given a deadline. He knew there was no choice but to accept it. Which he did. The story continues.

He didn't realise that he was standing. A few minutes must have passed, he thought to himself. He looked at his watch. Eleven thirty-five. Hmm, hardly a few minutes had passed. But he now knew what he had to do. He stood up and walked out of the room. **** The night was chilly. Only the foolhardy or the young could have dared to venture out. He was neither. He was just a man bound to fate, following meekly in the footsteps of his destiny. And she had been a bitch. At least, that was what he thought. He wrapped the trench coat tighter around himself and strode on. He passed a tramp searcing for his dinner among the trash cans. And judging by the size of his loot, the exercise had not been fruitless. In fact it had been anything but fruitless. He stopped on the far side of the road for a few moments to savour the expression of delight on the tramp's face. Funny, he mused to himself, we give without realizing the joy of giving. And here I am, giving away something I would never dream of parting with... He shook of the thoughts and some of the winter chill and strode on. He tried to focus on the events of the day. ***** It had been a bizarre day, to say the least. Everything had gone perfectly well. His office staff had been on time. His secretary had soprted all the letters correctly. The few calls he made to partners had gone suprisingly well and pleasant. Everything was surprisingly in tune, as if somebody was giving him a sign. Or may be it was his own cynicism, which he himself admitted, (in solitude, never in public) had grown unbearable of late. By lunch time, things had settled to a fine smooth cruise, again, something he had not been accustomed to, of late. Bt he shrugged it off as a good day among the bad ones and concentrated on his tasks for the day. And then things started to happen. A precious Ming vase had fallen off the mantle-piece, apparently unaided. And yet, sa it fell, something (?) had miraculously swept a sheaf of papers underneath and it had landed softly. The result: an unbroken vase and a messy office, with papers strewn around. Then again, there was a note from his wife in his lunch box. There were two things about the lunch box that surprised him. One was the note and the other was the Lunch box itself. In their twenty years of married life, he could never recall his wife sending him home-made lunch, much less, a note in his lunch. Was it a coincidence? Or was it... He chose to shrug it off and opened the lunch box. The aroma that arose from the box was heavenly. And he began to wolf it down. Once he had finished eating, he turned his attention towards the note. It bore the unmistakably simple, elegant writing of his wife. On the note were written four simple words, the fourth one being her signature. Three words that they had uttered to each other countless time in the past and yet, in a way, left unspoken. Three words that had become a standard way of greeting farewell to each other - over the phone, while leaving for work... And then suddenly, those three words had appeared as if out of nowhere, as if to remind him that she was there no matter what... Wait a second, I am getting paranoid, he thought to himself. Nothing's gonna happen to me. And then he heard two simple words. They were faint, as if in the distance. But they were there. Hanging in the silence, that had suddenly encompassed the entire of his being. Two simple words. Two words that defied his optimism and cynicism at the same time mocking him and showing him the truth behind his illusions of grandeur. Two words that brought the world down to its knees. "Oh, really?" To be continued Technorati Tags: story, call, bizarre, words, coincidence

The Call

2006-03-01T21:46:00.000+05:30

The door swayed slightly ajar and even before he could think it, he knew.

Without looking up, he asked, “When?”

“In about six months,” came the reply without so much as a hint of surprise, as if the question was expected.

“That soon?” he had expected it, yet, he was taken by surprise.

“Can’t help it. We need more people out there. I thought you, of all people, would surely understand. After all, you are a manager in a big firm, aren’t you?”

Did he detect a hint of a smirk in his voice? Or was it his imagination? He tried thinking for a few moments and then gave up.

“I need some time to settle some things here.”

“I have been given to understand that six months is more than enough.”

There was no point in arguing. He mutely nodded his head and the salt-and-pepper hair bounced gaily. A few moments later, (or a few minutes or a few hours, he never knew) he looked up.

He was gone.

A pain shot up through his chest and came to rest in his temple and left a vein throbbing in his temple. It went a little higher everyday.

Well, he had six months, at least.

Technorati Tags: Story, call, Conversation, pain

All because of a friggin' movie..

2006-02-19T19:18:00.000+05:30

Today, I did something I shouldn't have done. I watched 'Rang De Basanti.' Having heard rave reviews from my friends and others, I decided to give it a go. And that's where it all began. Questions that had been long hidden and stashed away resurfaced. Questions to which I had avoided giving answers long back, resurfaced. Questions to which the only answers were (and had been) 'It will always be the same' resurfaced. And now, I find myself rejecting these answers. It will never be the same again. No, it is not the movie that is speaking through me. The movie is simply an excuse. These are thoughts that I have been ignoring, neglecting for a long, long time. The movie ends with the 'kids' beng shot to death. I don't want to argue whether it was done to gain public sympathy or to show reality. I don't care. I don't even care if the end could have been made any different. Nor do I care if it was technically sound or not. It hurts me to watch such movies. It hurts me to think about them. It hurts me to think about the possible consequences it might have if such an event ever transpired into reality. It hurts me to think what I would have done if I were one of the characters in the movie. Why? Because the answer is nothing. I would have done NOTHING. Period. Because I do not have the guts or the glory to do something like that. Because I am a coward by nature. Because, I wouldn't. Because I am afraid of death. Because, I can't change anything. Because I am one of us. Because I know I will forget. Because I have forgotten. Because, I have too many excuses and not one valid reason. What is it that drives men willingly into the hands of despair? What is it that drive sane people to such 'insanity'? What is it that makes martyrs out of common men and treachers out of loyalists? Is it belief in Principles? Is it belief on ethics and morals? Is it the law? Is it the system as they wold have us believe? Is it the corruption? Is it the frustration? Or is it everything in equal, or even unequal, parts? Or is it none of these but something higher or unexplored? Or is it something we see everyday but fail to notice? What is it? If the system has been existing since time itself, why did it take the death of a person to bring about the winds of change? If we know the system is resonsible, what have we done to prevent it from happening? If public memory is short, why make such movies? What do we take from these movies? I saw Swades and appreciated it. I saw RDB and appreciated it. Sometime in the future I might see another movie and appreciate that too. So? Where does it all begin and where does it all end? What role do I have in this entire process? Is my role that of a mute spectator watching it happen? Is my role that of the protagonist who's making it happen? Is my role that of a director who's directing it when it happens? Is it that of a screenplay writer who charts the course to make it happen? Is my role that of an extra who is simply there when it happens? Where do I stand? What is my role? What is the purpose of my existence? I believe that:

There is an answer to every question. We just have to ask the right questions.
That my job is to find the right questions.

Am I being too optimistic? Am I being too cynical? Am I delving into unnecessary details? Am I asking too many questions? I know that I will forget about this entire thing withing a matter of hours. Seven hours to be precise. Seven hours later when I wake up from my nightmare-ridden sleep, I will start a brand new day with the same old routine. No, I will not blame my routine, for it is the routine that gives me the strength, the will, the money, the time to live. I am, in fact, thankful for having a routine. We keep telling ourselves the world need to change and shy away when the time come to orchestrate it. We will, ourselves, have nothing to do with it. We always want someone else to do it. We always want to stand at the sidelines and watch it happen. I may not be speaking for the world here, but I speak for myself atleast. Honesty is one thing I will not give up on until the day I die. At the same time, I do, occasionally, tell a few white lies to save my skin. Or, rather to save my time. Without those white lies, things would become unnecessarily complicated. I do not wish to compare myself with anyone else regarding this matter. There are people better than me, there are people worse than me. Everyody is entitled to his opinion. A discussion has no end. An argument has no end. The very fact that people are entitled to their own opinions brings about a stalemate to an argument even before it begins. Enforcing views is dictatorship. Having opinions is democracy. Has anybody ever noticed that the most radical of all changes have happened through enforcement of views? Only in anauthoritarian state, where you are forced to follow a particular viewpoint, do people seem to progress. Is that a myth or an illusion? Or the bitter truth? If democracy works, why do we need political parties and leaders? If everybody is entitled to his own opinion, how do we acheive harmony in thoughts? Opinions may and will always vary from one end of the spectrum to another. Acheiving harmony with them is simply having a common consensus. Some non-conformist elements will always stand out of the consensus. Remind me again, isn't that what dictatorship and authoritarianism all about? No, wait a second, dictatorship is when one man decides the consensus, democracy is when many men decide it. But then, if each person is entitled to his own opinion, which he obviously bases on his own good, how do you decide the greater good? On what basis? By which standards? How do a select few get to decide what the greater good of the masses is? If we give them the right to do so, how and why do we give them the right? Based on a few promises thay make? We 'exercise' our 'precious' franchise, fully knowing that they will never fulfil their promises. We call them hypocrites and we blame hope for driving us. Yet, we still carry on doing the same thing. Guess who's the hypocrite? All of us feel that we would do a better job if we were given the authority to do so. But none of us feel the need to work towards it. The armchair critics of all generations have always made it a point to criticise and blame. None of them have ever shown any kind of resolve to sit up and take notice and change what they feel is not right. 'But what can we do?' is a too common refrain I often get to hear. Or sometimes, I hear the polar opposite: "We gotta do something..." Something? Like what? Spreading the word? Starting a revolt? Mutiny? What? Sitting back and discussing what is to be done is not an answer. Nor is giving up the answer. Extremism solves nothing, only brings in new questions. Liberalism only hides the existing questions behind a veil of freedom. How do you determine what is right? Or what is wrong for that matter? Where do the concepts of right and wrong fit in a democratic society where everybody is entitled to his own opinion? If you are entitled to have your own opinion and I am allowed to have mine, how do you determine what is right and what is wrong? How do you determine what is good and what is bad? How do you determine the greater good of the masses in a state, which basically denies the existence of anything polar by simply defining a concept called freedom? What is freedom? Is it the right to do what we want? Is it the right to behave as we wish? Is it the right to say whatever comes to mind? Is it the right to roam when we choose? Is it the right to go wherever we want? To determine what is right, we choose to have a consensus. We choose our rights and wrongs, our goods and our bads through a common consesnsus. For example, it is wrong to bribe and it is bad to kill. Agree. But then, who chooses these options? A select few? What happens to those who choose their own options? Do they die off with the long tail? If a consensus is allowed to choose right and wrong, what's wrong with letting one man choose it? If you allow your leaders to make decisions for you, what's wrong with letting a dictator do it? People are scared of dictators because, dictators have been known to kill people for no rhyme or reason simply because of inherent prejudices. Yes, I am talking about the Hitlers and the Idi Amins and the Saddams. But who says there cannot be a sane dictator? Haven't we had rulers in the past? Forget the British Raj, don't we accept Shivaji as a role model? Don't we accept Akbar as just king? Haven't we all heard tales of Solomon and Ranajit Singh? Or do we accept them simply because they are mythological figures and too unreal for us? When does truth cross boundaries into mythology? A hundred years? Two hundred? Two thousand? Are we being too myopic about the entire thing? Or am I hyperventilating? If we hold opposite opinions, only one of us can be right. There can be no two ways about it. We as a nation have long held on to irrational beliefs simply because we could. It is time to shake off all those irrational beliefs. It is time to decide what is right and what is wrong. If you as a person cannot decide, let someone else decide for you. If you do not agree to it, then reason it out and finish the argument. We need to decide and we need to choose. We have sat and discussed for too long. It is time to choose. Until we make sane, rational choices we will stay where we are. We have, until today, chosen to stay silent. We have chosen to accept everything mutely. We have chosen to stand back and watch it happen. We have remained mute spectators all along. Not anymore. I choose to be a part of the action. I choose to orchestrate. I choose to make myself heard. I choose rationality. I choose sanity. I believe that we as a people can be much better that what we make of oursleves. I choose to accept freedom as a right to life above enything else. I choose to believe in right or wrong.I choose to accept the rights, wrongs, good, and bad based on rational explantion and rational explanation only. I choose to find answers and ask the right questions. I choose to make respect a mutual affair. I choose to believe. PS: I gotta get myself one of those digital sound recording contraptions. Sitting down to type is something I find tedious now... Tags: conversations, musings, RangDeBasanti, movie, life, opinion, review

The Park - The Final Part

2006-02-08T20:37:00.000+05:30

The story until now... A simple whine resulted in introspection. She was forced to think about things in a totally different light. As she encountered newer situations, she began to realize that the simplicity of life was not as simlple as she wanted it to be. The light began to dawn on her, even as it began to get darker...

They came to another section in the park – the Kids’ Section. He stopped there momentarily. He turned to look at her. She said nothing. Apparently, she had not yet recovered from the previous shock. He turned to look at the park. Kids of various ages were playing on the different amusements the park had to offer. The see-saw, the slide, the merry-go-round and the swing; all of them were occupied. A young boy, aged not more than seven, sat on a bench near one of the swings. He watched the swings go to and fro and laughed in glee, clapping his hands every now and then. It looked like he was egging his brother on, who had occupied the swing. “Why don’t you make that boy try the swings?” “But he can’t see me!” “Do you really think so?” She knew better now than to ask any question. She silently went up to the boy and sat beside him. The boy had a sunny disposition that could make anyone smile. And she was not an exception. She felt the warmth of his smile and instantly returned it. The boy returned back to egging his brother on. She made an attempt to strike up a conversation. “Hi.” The boy looked at her, unsure of whether to reply. Eventually he did. “Hi.” “Why don’t you have a go on the swings?” “I can’t?” “Why? Why can’t you?” “Oh it’s too much trouble getting me on the swing and then getting me off it. I wouldn’t want to spoil the fun. I am better off watching them.” “Why is that? I don’t think you’re too short. You can easily reach the swing.” “Oh I am tall enough, alright. But that’s not the reason. It’s this.” He smiled and pointed towards his legs. She took one look at his legs and realized what she’d just done. “I am sorry” was all she could manage and she almost ran back to where he was standing. He said nothing for sometime. They came back to the bench on which she was sitting before and sat once again. It was to be sometime before he spoke in a clear, calm voice. “Now, do you understand?” “Yes, I do. And I am sorry. It won’t happen again.” He smiled at her and she returned it. She stood up and spread her wings. With one smooth push of her feet she was away soaring high, into the sky. Gabriel looked at the diminishing figure in the sky and sighed. Well, there had to be one in every lot.

The Park - Part III

2006-02-03T21:18:00.000+05:30

The story until now... She was sitting in the park unhappy and tearful, blaming him for not understanding her plight. He understood that he had to provide her with some answers... The first two responses she received left her stunned, yet contemplative. Surely, this was not the way she was expecting her question to be answered. But they are answers nevertheless, and she must find the meaning. Soon...

(contd. from The Park - Part 2) They kept walking until they reached the Fountain. People of various ages were sitting with their feet immersed in the clear, cold, blue water of the pool beside the fountain. He turned to her and asked. “What do you hear?” She replied hesitantly, “I hear the sound of gushing water. The most beautiful music that He could ever create.” He smiled and turned to look at the people. Without looking at her, he asked again, “No really, what do you hear?” The sounds of the world diminished to nothing and a new babble of voices broke out, rising in its pitch slowly until she could take it no more. She clamped her hands over her ears to stop the sound from blowing her eardrums. He laughed at this and said, “You can take your hands off now. It’s okay.” She cautiously removed her hands and was relieved to find that the voices had died down to a murmur. “Now tell me what you hear,” he asked again. She strained her ears to make sense out of the large plethora of voices that was the crowd. She shut her eyes tight hoping against hope that it would help somehow. And slowly the voices began to make sense. ‘I wish I could enjoy this peace everyday…’ ‘I wish he would understand…’ ‘I love my husband.’ ‘I love her husband.’ ‘My baby…’ ‘Why can’t work ever be so relaxing?’ ‘Man, she looks amazing!!’ ‘What does she think of herself?’ ‘Why did you have to leave me?’ ‘How long is this pain going to last? I wish it would be over once and for all…’ This last statement particularly caught her attention and she started to search for its owner. She scanned the faces in the crowd hoping to find a clue. She found a face contorted with pain and immediately moved towards him. As she drew closer she could hear him swearing. No, it wasn’t him. She looked around again. Every time she thought she had found the source of the pain, she realized that it was someone else. She finally gave up and returned to him looking defeated. He asked her, “Would you like to see the person who said those words?” She was surprised he could do that. But then again she knew he would do that. She meekly nodded in the affirmative. He began to walk and she followed. He stopped in front of a clown. The clown had gathered a crowd and was entertaining it. Sure enough, she had overlooked this portion of the crowd. After all, there was no pain here, only joy. But as they drew nearer to the crowd she heard the voice grow stronger. She frantically scanned the faces in the crowd. That was when she felt a tap on her shoulder. He pointed a finger to indicate the direction of the source of the voice. She followed his finger and her eyes came to rest on the one person she had never imagined to be the source – the clown himself. She stood with her mouth agape not wanting to believe, yet the evidence forcing her to do exactly that. “He was diagnosed with a fatal disease last week. The doctors have given him a month. And he’s decided to make the most of it.” With that, he walked away, leaving her to contemplate. She stared at the clown, wondering whether he could see her. He remained blissfully unaware of her presence and continued to entertain the crowd. She walked back silently to where he was standing. And they moved on. (To be continued...) Tags: park, story, emotions, BornStinger, conversations, pain, clown

The Park - Part II

2006-01-30T20:34:00.000+05:30

The story until now... The Park sees many people come and go. So do we. A girl is sitting on the park bench. She feels the world has been unfair to her. And she's complaining. But who is going to listen? The one person she expects will listen, is not in the mood to listen. Or...?

(contd. from The Park - Part 1) Nobody said a word for sometime. She was still letting her tears get the better of her self-control and he was letting his self-control get the better of him. Maintaining the stoic face, he walked for a couple of minutes until they reached the Couples’ Corner of the park. He stopped and turned to face her. “What do you see?” “Is that a trick question?” “No. Seriously, tell me, what do you see?” “I see people. In love. Sitting beside their beloved. Knowing that they will be together for eternity.” “How many of them will really be together for eternity?” “I don’t know.” He smiled. He pointed out to a couple sitting across the park. The wife (presumably) was happily knitting away for a near-future arrival (presumably). The husband was watching her intently, with a look that was somewhere between admiration and awe. “Only they will be together for all eternity.” “How do you know?” “It’s my job to know.” “But they are not even talking to each other!” “Someday, when you are old enough and wise enough, you’ll understand that communication does not need words. Tell me what do you read in his eyes?” “I don’t know. I can’t see them from this far.” “Then go near him and read his eyes. Go now.” “But what if he sees me? What am I going to say to him?” “Go now.” She hesitated for a split second and started to move towards them. Thoughts had begun to flood her mind. Was he testing her? Or was it all a joke? Was he serious? What if the husband caught her looking at them? What would he think? Would he question her? More importantly, what was she going to tell him? As she approached closer she could feel her tension rise. But he made no apparent move to acknowledge her in any manner – hostile or other wise. Somewhat puzzled and somewhat relaxed she decided to push further, until she was virtually sitting beside him. She could hear the faint strains of humming. She looked around and found her; humming away as she wove the woolen strands into a concrete shape, thread by thread, knot by knot. For a moment she forgot what she was supposed to do and listened deeply to her humming. Then she remembered why she was there, and she turned to look at him. He was now leaning back with his eyes closed and his hands behind his head. She waited for a few moments hoping he would open his eyes, so she could read them. But he did none of that. A few moments later, he opened his eyes and moved over to where his wife was sitting and put his head in her lap and closed his eyes again. Those few moments were all she was waiting for. And what she saw chilled her to the very core. He was blind. He had only the whites of his pupils where his eyes would have been. She hurried back to him. He looked at her. She was shivering like an autumn leaf. He said nothing, but smiled. And he walked on. (To be continued...)

The Park

2006-01-19T22:16:00.000+05:30

She sat morosely on the park bench unaware of her surroundings. She did not notice him coming. Not that she would have noticed it any other day. He came and sat besides her making no sound or attempt to announce his presence. After what seemed like an eternity (but was actually a few minutes) she saw him. But even then, she made no attempt to acknowledge it. She just sat there teetering on the verge of bursting into tears. Finally, she looked at him and asked the question she already knew the answer to. "Why are you here?" He looked straight into her eyes. She made no attempt to look away. Rather she continued looking into his hazel eyes. Unable to take it anymore, he looked away and spoke. "I just wanted to make sure you were alright." "What difference would it make to you?" He was surprised, rather shocked, at this accusation. He had half a mind to leave but he restrained himself. This had been a long time coming. He had known it was coming. He said with all the calm he could muster. "It would, wouldn’t it? Or else, I wouldn’t be here." The sarcasm in his voice wasn’t lost on her. She opened her mouth to deliver a repartee that would shut him up and closed it instantly. That was the last thing she wanted. Today she wanted him to talk. And talk he did. "It isn’t that bad, you know. Things could have been worse." "Oh, really?? You keep saying that all the time? What do you know?" "You could take things positively. Really, it could have been worse." "Oh, yeah? And what do you know, what’s been happening with me? Or is it one of your standard lines that you throw at damsels-in-distress? "Why don’t you tell me what’s troubling you?" "Why? So that you can throw me more of those standard lines? I thought you’d have known by now…" "I can’t read minds, you know." The tears she’d been holding back welled up in her pretty brown eyes and clouded them. There was no use fighting them back now. And she started to cry. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen a woman cry. Nevertheless, he was flustered. He wondered if he should reach out and comfort her. Or if he should stand back stoically and wait for the flow to ebb. Before he could transform his thought into actions, he heard words between sobs. "Why? Why does it have to be me?" He knew it was better not to answer that question. There was no answer to it, really. He waited for a few moments trying to decide the best course of action (or inaction, rather) But he was saved the trouble of having to make a choice, because she continued. "I am not asking for much, am I? Tell me, is it really that difficult?" There was no escape now. Although, he knew better than to answer the question he had no choice now. Still, there had to be some way out. "Did someone insult you?" "No." "Did someone tease you or taunt you?" "No." "Did someone -" That was as far as he got. "Shut up, will you? I am not asking for an analysis of my mental state here. I am not asking you to counsel me. Nor am I asking you to cajole me. All I am asking is an answer to a simple question. Why is appreciation so difficult?" He looked at her. Her big, pretty brown eyes were now red due to all the sobbing. And the decision was made. "Come. Let’s take a walk." And he stood up and started walking. (To be continued...)

Wants & Needs...

2006-01-05T20:45:00.000+05:30

Last night while I was reading I suddenly realized this: "I don't know what I want, but I know what I need..." Is that what is causing all the trouble?

The last day of 2005

2005-12-30T19:18:00.001+05:30

... or the first day of 2006?? Well, optimism rules. So here's a Happy New Year!! Look at the two images closely. The left one is snarling and the right one is calm. Now either squint your eyes or look at the images from a distance. See a switch? Lif is like that. It often deceives you. But then you squint at it and say,"Hey you, Life, you are givin' me a raw deal here. And I ain't gonna take that!! So screw you!" I am glad I found the strength to say that when it was needed the most... Thanx to you ppl. Living an anonymous life is not so easy, eh? You gotta hide an identity and maintain one at the same time. Your material identity tries to influence your virtual identity and vice-versa. The constant struggle between these two identities gets you (I wonder, what that means) down sometimes. But you choose to go on... The world lies before you. you take one look and go, "Uh, oh! I am not going there, It's too fuckin' huge!!" And then you hear a voice, "Yeah, so?" And then - Your feet start moving, Your heart starts beating, Your brain starts thinking, Your eyes start seeing, Your ears start listening. You begin to feel and experience... The wonderful journey called Life. Here's wishing all of you a very Happy New Year and prosperous life ahead. Disclaimer: This illusion was created by Phillippe G.Schyns and Aude Oliva of the Univ.of Glasgow. You can find more about the illusion on Dr. Phillippe's site. They have presented a paper on the Cognitive Perception in Human psychology.

A new spot - BlogSpot!

2005-12-23T19:29:00.000+05:30

A basic version of my new blog is up. Haven't really thought of anything. The old blog will remian... And so will the stories (Yay!) May be I will move them here some day... One thing I liked about Blogger is, it alows you to post on any date... :D I think I'll use this post for a lotta backlinks and blogroll... Old Stories Blog Roll: Simple Thoughts Elegance in Simplicity. You define it, girl! Radhika The polar opposite. Bricks Build your life here. Navneet Simpson Fan. Or maybe, a sensible guy is more apt. Paradoxical Life is a Paradox. And he knows it too well... Aariya Shah Brevity is the soul of... life2plz! Talking Silence Thoughts, and more... Aditya Bidikar Indian A-list Blogger. Nice stories too... Gemini Girl Desi Girl in Pardes... Samita Chatterjee A glass rose in the waters of the wild... Halt! by V A poetic life... A poet's life. Thanx guys, you have made my life much better than it could ever be. I will add these links in the left pane soon, as soon as I figure out the settings on Blogger... A few lines before I leave: "Life goes on, as if a farce After the rains, I see the stars, I say to myself, it is so true, The night will go, a morn is due... I do not fear the night that falls, Nor do scare me, the chilling calls, I think of ghosts and laugh aloud, Crowded singly yet alone in a crowd..." Yours Truly, Born Stinger. Update: Dec 27, 2005 Quasi a.k.a Inane. Still life: when life comes to a stand-still he is there to capture it... Finally, figured out the settings... Had done it once before for my personal blog here.