Jill Endru Oru Kaadhal

Gautham was bored. With a flick of the remote control he muted Tony Greig who was cocky about Sachin's return on the field. The match didn’t look like going India's way and disappointedly Gautham switched the TV off and headed to their bedroom where Kundavi was preparing their 6 year old daughter Aishu for the math’s test next day at school.

Not willing to disturb them Gautham went to the other bedroom and just lay there on the double bed. He remembered then that his distant cousin had asked him the project report about the suspension system in the car that was designed in his company sometime back. Gautham searched in the loft above the bed and after half an hour he found it in his old suitcase which looked as if it hadn’t been touched since ages.

There Gautham found something that he had not opened for long.....his personal diary in 1997. He had got rid of that habit long before and now he felt tempted to open it. He even remembered the date that he knew he wanted to read.

Dec 26
Jill Endru Oru Kaadhal

Today was the third day of our Shimla trip. While the rest of our collegemates had gone to the Jakhu Temple, I and Aishu eloped to Kufri and decided to try our hand at skiing. Shimla is cold and it feels colder if you have come from somewhere as hot as Chennai. I was horrible at skiing and she was as usual graceful. I tried something acrobatic and fell awkwardly spinning 90 degrees. Aishu laughed harder till her cheeks became pink.

"STOP SMILING AND STOP LAUGHING" I yelled.

Aishu was stunned. She had not expected me to be happy, but not yelling at her of course. I went near her and touched her smooth cheeks and almost spoke in a whisper "Don’t Smile Aishu. Your smile is powerful enough to melt the icebergs. Do you think that my little fist sized heart and this poor Shimla can handle it?"

Aishu smiled as her cheeks became red and hugged me even harder. Whoever said that Shimla was cold must have been single...and not in love.

Gautham closed the diary and heaved a deep sigh. He was happy that Kundavi had not seen this diary. He didn’t have the courage to burn it or shred it to pieces. He had to keep the diary safe somewhere from the reach of everybody....like her memories in the corner of his heart.

Tell me your dreams

There is a very thin line between fact and fiction and I seemed to have barged that line so much that even a real account into my dream life seems like my stupid stories. So I decided to double the dosage and torture you all with another account of my dream life.

The trouble of having lived in various places is that you know many people and you never know who amongst them is going to knock in that night. At times I get to see my first crush who was a Gujarati girl when I studied in Gujarat in my dreams...and suddenly she would knock me cold by talking in Tamil. For so long I used to think that in our dreams we could be the Hero/heroine and nothing could go wrong. It all got wrong 3 days before.

It was a dream where I was a devious, evil and calculating fella. I did evil things which I couldn’t have had done in my real life. The climax of the dream was worse. Yeah yeah....thats the trouble of being a movie fanatic. All that my dreams don’t have are songs, Interval, Pop corn, Samosa and Inji morappa. Some times I even get to say Punch Dialogues. In the climax it is revealed that I have Multiple Personality Disorder. I fainted in my dream and woke up in real.

If you thought that I could not have imagined worse, wait for more. My favorite recurring dream/Nightmare was the Exam dreams. Exam dreams? Yeah. Whenever I used to go to my home after my semester holidays, this exam dreams used to bump in at least 10 times of those 30 days. It’s a dream where I would go to the exam and screw it up one way or other. Either I would forget my hall ticket, or drafter, or would be in the hall of EEE's for a thermodynamic exam and so on. I don’t remember a single instance of having finished my exam in my dreams.

The worse one was when once I entered into the exam hall and got my question paper and was filling the details in my answer sheet. The invigilator madam came to me and looked at me from toe to head. I had a big Bata shoe, Nike socks.....and a towel. She looked disgustingly towards me as if I looked like the innocent school boy in Shakeela movies. She dragged me by my ear (thank god towel was spared) and I was close to tears as I kept telling her that this was my last semester, that I had got placed, that I had a family to support. Uhummmm....no chance. Madam was in a supreme foul mood and threw me out of the hall as Captain Vijaykanth does to his Pakistani Villains.

Shocked I woke up and didnt know where the hell I was for 2 minutes. Then I realized that it was July and that I had passed and had got all my certificates and was waiting for the company guys to call me up. You cannot imagine how much relieved I was to realize this at 3 AM.

Anyone of you has got anything to make me feel better?

Lage Raho

It was cold and my hands got numb. If it was gonna be so cold in September, I wondered that I should have my will written before November. I was the only soul walking on the deserted road at 6.40 AM and the people in car looked at me as if I was nuts. The bus arrived at 6.50 AM and I buried myself behind "Harry Potter and The half Blood Prince" which I had booked weeks before and got 3 days before. Harry's dilemma about Ginny Weasely was interesting and I wish I could take a day’s leave and finish it off.

"Reading Potter?" she asked.

She must have been 23 years old. At about 5.6 inches (excluding her 1 inch heels) she must have weighed around 125 pounds and had an athletic build. She was wearing a White shirt with a floral design in the center and a Black pant. Her features were sharp and she had high cheekbones and deep set eyes. She seemed to have applied some mascara around her lashes and lip gloss which made her lips look like Jolie. Her hair was curly (brunette) and perhaps always wet (Is that Livon?).

"Mind if I sit here?" she asked.

The hell I was gonna mind. The evening 5.30 bus was crowded by the Indian gang just to get a glimpse of her. Nobody of us knew her real name and so code named her as figure. Apart from the Driver and a few old ladies, rest of the men could hardly take their eyes off her. She sat near me and I could smell her Lavender perfume inspite of my esnophilia. If I were to take a female version of Axe spray, she was gonna play the title role.

"You always read books. Dont you?" She asked. I was surprised that she had noticed me. To Hell with Potter I thought and closed it.

"Yeah. Always wanted to be a writer...but the closest I came was to writing those stupid Status reports" I wondered if I could have given a dumber answer. Desperately I wanted to impress her and remarked "I think that the fire alarm in your floor is disabled. Isn’t it?"

She made a face which suggested that she didn’t understand what I was talking about. I smiled and replied "Well. I figured it out as if someone HOT as you is seated beneath it, then they better disable it."

She was surprised and laughed aloud. The middle aged man seated across us turned red with envy. As I was about to introduce myself she stopped laughing and spoke aloud "Machchan...dei Machchan". Hearing her speak chaste Tamil in gruff voice looked worse than the dubbed movies on Vijay TV.

"Dei Machchan....ennada pandra?" Oh Man. What the hell was happening? Damn, she knew Tamil. All these days and we had been passing comments over her head. Oh my god...she was gonna call the cops next. Shuddered I remained speechless staring helplessly at her.

"Machchan...Today is status call. You need to go to the office soon. Wake up man" my roommate was shaking me up and I gave him my best look of contempt. I wanted to strangle him, tie him, kick him...but hopelessly I could do none.

Hmmmmm...not just in real life...even my dreams get screwed up.

Enlightened

It seemed like a writer's block. He was not able to concentrate and zero on one idea and it was increasingly frustrating as the day progressed. He thumped his fist on the table showing his displeasure and it echoed across the silent room. He was happy that his readers would never find out that a writer of his caliber also suffered from lack of imagination put gently as writers block. But it all changed when he saw her enter the room.

She was wearing a white colored sari bordered in red. She wore bangles which matched the color of the border of her saree. The room was filled with the music of her payal which sang as she walked. The vermilion on her forehead and the big round bindi gave her a divine look. He was surprised that the bindi looked romantic when she laughed and made her appear like Durga mata when she expressed anger. But then he had never seen her angry. She was an ideal house wife who never questioned the income of her husband, had raised 3 girls, looked after the elders, and cooked fresh fish bought from the bazaar. What else could one ask for?

But today it was different. She was holding the lamp close to her face and it increased the aura around her. Instead of feeling love towards her, he felt a deep sense of respect. She was the one who ran the family and was responsible for its happiness. And who takes the credit? The outsiders simply say "Babu?Babu ka kya? He runs his family so nicely". He had never given her any credit in any of his works and she never demanded him for it as well. Infact he hardly asked her opinion in any matters. Or did she have one?

He decided that this time he was going to compensate for all his ignorance. She realized that he was looking at her as he had never seen her before. She asked "What happened?"

He "Do you mind if I write a poem in your honor?"

She smiled and didn’t reply. She thought that maybe he was flattering her for fun and left him alone in the room. He took his pen and connected his two chain of thoughts-one from his life and another in his novel.

Bankim Chandra was happy with the final result and titled his masterpiece as BANDE MATARAM. Little did he realize that 100 years later his ode to motherland will be used as a weapon to create hatred among his countrymen and gain political mileage. May his soul rest in peace in the thought that all the evil plans have been sabotaged.

வேட்டையாடு விளையாடு

ராகவன் மெதுவாக கொட்டாவி விட்டான். இந்த துன்பமான நேரத்திலும் மனிதர்ளுக்கு கொட்டாவி வரும் என்று அவனுக்கு தோன்றவில்லை.வாசலில் இருந்த "அரசு மருத்துவமனை" என்ற எழுத்துக்களுக்கு சுதந்திரத்துக்கு முன்னால் வர்ணம் பூசி இருப்பார்கள் என்று அவன் கணக்கு போட்டு கொண்டான். பக்கத்தில் செல்லும் டாக்டரை பார்த்தபொது சின்ன வயதில் தானும் கோட்டு போட்டு வெஷம் கட்டியது ஞாபகம் வந்தது.

ம்ம்ம்ம்....ஒழுங்காக படித்திருந்தால் அவன் நண்பன் கோபால் போல் குறைந்த பட்சம் வாத்தியாராவுது ஆகியிருக்கலாம். இப்பொழுது பார்க்கும் மெக்கானிக் தொழிலில் வரும் காசு லாட்ட்ரி சீட்டு கூட வாங்க பத்த மாட்டேங்குது.

"யாருப்பா ராகவன்?பெரிய டாக்டர் கூப்பிட்டாரப்பா" என்றான் வாசலில் இருக்கும் கம்ப்பௌண்டர்.

"வணக்கம் அய்யா " கும்பிடு போட்டான் ராகவன்

டாக்டர் "என்னய்யா?உங்க அப்பாவா அது காலைல இறந்தது?"

ராகவன் "ஆமாங்க. இறப்பு சான்றிதழ் வேணும்ங்க. அது இருந்தாத்தான் மத்த நடக்க வேண்டிய சமாசாரம் எல்லாம் பார்க்க முடியும்"

டாக்டர் "சரி. சுத்தி வளைச்சு பேச வேண்டாம். ஒரு 1000 ருபா குடு. இப்பவே கைல சான்றிதழ் வாங்கிக்க".

ராகவனுக்கு கொபமாக வந்தது.இத்தனை துன்பமான நேரத்திலும் குடும்ப தலைவரை இழந்து இங்கெ இவர்கள் சோகத்தில் இருக்கும் பொழுதும் ஒரு மனிதனிடம் இவர்கள் பேரம் பேசுவதை நினைத்து அவனுக்கு வெட்கமாக இருந்தது. இந்தியன் படத்தில் சொல்வதை போல் "மத்த நாட்டில் கடமை மீற தான் லஞ்சம் வாங்கராங்க, இங்க மட்டும் தான் கடமை செய்யவெ லஞ்சம் வாங்ராங்க" ஞாபகம் வந்தது. இவர்களூகு நல்ல சம்பளம்,PF,மரியாதை,சலுகைகள் எல்லாம் கொடுத்தும் இப்படி ஏழைகளை இவர்கள் சூறையாடுவதை நினைத்து இவன் ரத்தம் கொதித்தது.

டாக்டரின் டேபிளில் இருந்த கத்தியை எடுத்து யோசிக்காமல் சதக் சதக்னு குத்தினான். டாக்டரின் வாயோரமாக வழிந்த ரத்தம் பார்த்து குரூரமாக சிரித்தான். அவனுக்கு அந்த கத்தி எடுத்து ஏதோ பரசுராம அவதாரம் போல் தோன்றியது. அந்த ஊரில் இருக்கும் போலிஸ் அதிகாரி, பஞ்சாயத்து தலைவர், இலாகா மந்திரி, சட்டசபையில் இருக்கும் அமைச்சர்கள், மந்திரிகள் இப்படி லஞ்சம் வாங்கும் எல்லாரையும் வதம் செய்ய வேண்டும் போல் தோன்றியது. வேகமாக அவன் தன்னுடய சூரசம்ஹாரத்தை செய்ய புறப்பட்டான்.

"தம்பி..தம்பி..உங்களை தான்.எங்க வேடிக்கை பார்க்கறீங்க. நேரம் ஆகுது இல்ல. சட்டுபுட்டுனு காசை கொடுத்துட்டு மத்த வேலையை பாருங்க " டாக்டரின் குரல் அவனை அவன் நினைவலைகளை விட்டு பிரித்தன. வாசலில் இருக்கும் அவன் அண்ணனிடம் காசு வாங்க வெளியில் வந்தான்.

டாக்டரின் வாயோரம் வழிந்த ரத்தத்தை நினைத்து தன்னக்கு தானே சிரித்து கொண்டான்.