Friday, October 26, 2007

Gods must be crazy

Disclaimer: Try to read it just like any work of fiction without any assumption.

They were seated in the shape of a triangle surrounding the carom board. The game was intense with each man trying to outwit the other and garner points. But then they had been bosom pals for long and victory or defeat was not doing to crack their friendship.

God1: Gotta admit buddy. Your back shot is awesome. You never miss.

God2: You should play with my mom. She never misses any strike.

God3: Wish I had someone like that who could have trained me.

God1: Dont worry chum. Life is all but a learning process.

God2: Well said dude. Wonder why many don't realize it.

God3: Hey switch the TV on. Did you see the report on the sting operation on TV yesterday night?

God1: (after some silence) Yeah I did. One sick report. The details are damn gruesome.

God2: I was numbed by the reactions of the concerned parties.

God3: I have got used to them. "Opposition's efforts to sabotage our reputation." "This is done to dent our votes". Is democracy just about votes? What happened to "By the People, of the people and For the people"?

God1: That's just for the books. You will see them asking for votes shamelessly waving to the people as if they have just won some Olympic medal.

God2: And I can’t believe we created these morons in first place.

God3: Hey I have a doubt. Your folks are fighting over some bridge you built. What happened to it?

God1: Dont even talk about it.

God2: Why?

God1: Even my wife for whom I built the bridge is so angry with it. She can’t believe that they are making an issue out of this.

God2: They ask for votes with these issues?

God3: Mob is just like a domino effect. You push one in the stack and then see the rest fall.

God1: Some times I wonder if there is any difference between humans and sheep.

God2: Gosh. These images on TV are so sick.

God3: Why do your people behave so savagely? One guy claims to have killed a pregnant lady. Are your guys so sick?

God1: Hey. Dont you remember what your guys did? Didn’t they keep bombs everywhere?

God2: Hey. Why are you too shouting at each other?

God3: As if you are the holy one. Your guys give money to people to transform. Your guys do everything in the name of saving the country.

God1: You forgot oil buddy.

God2: Hey. You talk as if there is no problem there. In my place they fight in the name of color. How sick you think it makes me?

God3: Why did your guys break our temple?

God1: They even chanted my name before killing your folks. How do you think it appeals to me?

God2: Yeah. In no almanac or Holy Scriptures we have asked them to fight for us. They why do they do this?

God3: Simple. Votes? Oil? Money? Positions? Fame?

God1: Inspite of the fact that all 3 of us have preached common things.

God2: Like?

God3: 1. Nobody is immortal. Everybody’s final destination is a six feet resting space.

2. Love thy fellow human being.

3. Distribute your wealth.

4. Live in harmony.

God1: Everybody knows this.

God2: Then why do they kill one another? Why do they act as if they are blood thirsty?

God3: Wish they knew that the men in who's name they fight below, are playing carom together and are bosom friends.

God1: What do we do the people who instigate all this and spoil our name as well?

God2: Dont worry. That is not our headache.

God3: Why is that?

God1: Simple. Either way they go to hell.

God2: We better ask our folks over there to keep the oil extra hot.

God3: As if that is going to cleanse their dirty souls.

God1: Oh damn! Its 9 PM. I better go or wife will be angry.

God2: Oops! Time to report to mom.

God3: At least there is one thing we are same as humans.

God1 and God2: What?

God3: We are all afraid of the women in our lives.

Tuesday, October 16, 2007

Johnny Gaddaar?

She kissed me as she left the bed. I am sure that at this moment I would be the most cursed soul of the entire male fraternity in this area.

Most of the men around would give their arms, legs and everything for her one touch. And here she was..laying on the bed...waiting for my kiss. I kissed her gently and she smiled. She got up from the twin bed and marched with her usual elegance to the bath room. She was dressed in her night gown and yet she looked beautiful enough to cause a Tsunami (I am bored of quoting traffic jam :P).

I looked at her framed picture beside the bed and wondered what was the almighty thinking before making her. He must have been in some supreme form and mood to have carved her. Her oval face, slender cheek bones, the perfectly chiseled nose, naturally rosy lips and a chic athletic figure could even tempt the most austere monks to give up their celibacy. No wonder I fell head over heels in love with her.

She came out in her bath robes and smiled at me. No words exchanged. She went to the nearest dressing table and combed her hair. I was feeling too lazy to get up from the bed...but still I preferred being in her company. We ate our breakfast on the dining table watching Good Morning India which was laden with news of bomb blasts, political back stabbing, over paid stars and as-usual-failed cricketers. She kept changing channels till she landed on "Aao Naa" from Kyon ho Gaya Na.

She smiled at me instantly as she knew it was my favorite song. We then decided to go to the park near our apartment. Being a Saturday, the park was filled with under-aged run-away lovers, college students and bored & fat middle aged men. Almost the whole park seemed to be looking at her. I felt like the Onida Devil mouthing "Neighbor's envy owner's pride".

We sat at one end of the park and wondered what to do next. We kissed much to the dismay of the fat middle aged gentlemen who looked as if he could turn to ashes. She got up and threw the tennis ball far across the park. I ran as fast as I could and came back victoriously.

"Smart boy my Johnny Darling". She said and rubbed my fast wagging tail. I was waiting for my incentive and expectedly she handed me another sweet kiss.

Throw as far as you can darling…Johnny hai naa…..

P.S.: Inspired from a Jeffery Archer short story.

Monday, October 01, 2007

Mr. Yogi and the 2 rupee coin

Mr. Yogi squirmed. He was standing behind 19 people in the queue to buy train ticket from Pallavaram to Saidapet. The railway station was as usual crowded and the heat wave just made it worse.

The railway track was littered with cups, plates, frooti bottles, left overs and smelled good enough to puke your stomach out. Some characters who were anxious enough to get to the office stuck their neck out to watch the train arrive, spit on the tracks. Mr. Yogi who was once a co-offender for the same offense, now felt like throwing them down on the tracks. Some things never change.

The train arrived and it was crowded as usual. It was so crowded that one guy was checking an sms in his mobile and the person next to him was reading it along with him. It was then that Yogi realized that he was the inhabitant of the second most populous country on the face of the earth. It seemed as if one person was breathing air released from other person. Inspite of the space available inside the compartment, romeos preferred to hang outside to lure the juliets and do acrobatics which one day was sure to land them in hospital beds (or worse mortuary wards) rather than their beloved's hearts.

Almost 75% of people inside the train either seemed frustrated, impatient, bored or angry with their life with the exception of the lovers at one end of the train, the 3 year old kid seated on his mother's lap enjoying the company of the mute bear and the bum seated near the exit who either knew nothing or knew everything. Most of them seemed like a mountain waiting to erupt their emotions out. Mr. Yogi just prayed that he better be not the pin to prick anyone and get their lava of anger all over himself.

And then it happened. He entered singing some song in some language with a harmonium around his neck followed by her. He was wearing an old worn out white shirt with a tattered lungi with a towel around his shoulder. She was about 6-7 years old wearing an yellow tattered frock and was sweating profusely with lot of innocence and pain in her little eyes. As he sung, she went around the compartment with her little arms asking for help. The gentleman at the end of the compartment who nodded in the beginning then began fiddling his pocket and put something in her hands.

Her little hands were full of 1 and 2 rupee coins. Mr. Yogi wanted to get up from his seat and grab that singing bastard's collar and ask him why was she begging for alms when she should have been in the school singing "twinkle twinkle little stars". She came near him and just raised her arms without speaking a word. Mr. Yogi searched in his shirt pocket and found a 2 rupee coin which he thrust in her little arms. How he wished he had all the money of the filthy rich, corrupt politicians, extravagant socialites, overpaid cricketers and could help these kids restore their world with innocence instead of such wickedness and pain?

His heart yearned to take her out in the next station, feed her fully, admit her in some destitute home and arrange for her eduction. Alas it was the stuff that was reserved for cinema heroes to perform in the movies. Yogi was just a common man on a day's work who could just dream of reforming the society but could do only as little as 10% of it in ways that he knew. He felt numb and helpless that he did not have the power to reform anything and everything. Everyone of us on earth have to bear our burden of sorrows and that was the way the world worked.

As the train stopped he realzied that the train had reached guindy. The man and the girl walked out of his compartment and rushed to the next compartment. Just then Mr Yogi's mobile confirmed that it was alive and it was just another stupid Airtel promotional message asking him to check his future for a few bucks. Just when Mr. Yogi thrust his mobile back into his pocket, his hand stumbled on a coin. It was a 2 rupee coin. Mr. Yogi could still hear the man singing in the alien language and could imagine the girl innocently begging for either her food or her father's liquor or maybe both.

Mr. Yogi looked at the 2 rupee coin. Maybe it was destined for some other kid in some other place for some other time......