That kid from 90s

Yes, a lot of us have spent our childhood in 90s. While some of us moved on with the life and remembered the decade as one of the sweetest memories of our life, there are some who never got out of that golden era. Of course, they grew old physically, but something of them got stuck there, forever...

That kid from 90s 

“Jungle Jungle Baat Chali Hai Pata Chala Hai, Chaddi Pehen Ke Phool Khila Hai Phool Khila Hai.”

Ramesh was so much startled that he hit his head hard with the cupboard above his study table, trying to find the source of the song in a frenzy. Of course, it was the TV in drawing room. But “this” song? 

“Papa, papa, see Papa!” Raju was dancing on his tiptoes excitedly and pointed towards the TV. What Ramesh saw, it gave him goose bumps. It was the same old Jungle Book, from his own childhood, with Mowgli and Bagheera and Baloo. Except that unlike his favourite cartoon series, it was a live-action adaptation.

Apparently, Disney was making a new movie on the classic Jungle Book story and it was a trailer that they were broadcasting on TV. Ramesh watched in awe as the characters from his childhood emerged on the screen in spectacularly realistic forms. “I want to watch this movie, Papa!” His six-years-old son pulled at the hem of his shirt, still jumping around. Ramesh looked at him, smiling. The song had brought back so many memories…

Ramesh is a grown up adult now, thanks to all the years that passed by since his childhood. He is grown up enough to get a job, get married and have a kid of his own. He works in a reputed IT company, has a nice, cosy home and a lovely family that consists of his wife and son and his parents.

Now, Ramesh is not your usual Indian adult, no sir. He belongs to an era when the kids in India were having the best days of their lives. Like any other 90s kid, he spent most of his childhood and teenage days preoccupied with several activities ranging from playing with WWF cards to reading comic books of Nagraj and Bankelal.

Ramesh still remembers that one time when his teacher first introduced computers and he stole the rubber ball from the mouse, when he longingly waited for Sunday mornings to watch his favourite cartoons and shows on Doordarshan, and when he had a fight with his best friend who cheated in the game of Snakes & Ladders.

You would ask, what’s so special about Ramesh? He is just like any other 90s kid, right? Well, yes, he is, mostly. However, what really makes him different from the other children, or adults of his age, is the fact that even though Ramesh is the father of a kid now, try as hard as he might, he can never stop thinking of all those golden days of his life.

Even though he is doing great, providing for his family and taking care of his old parents, more than often, he finds himself trotting on the path of his past, which he knows will never come back.

This one time, he was in a music store, browsing for a good pair of speakers for his iPad, when he came across something; it was a Sony Walkman, showcased in a glass box. Hesitatingly, he asked the shopkeeper about its price. the shopkeeper stared at him for a while, and said, laughingly, “Sir, that is just for the showcase. No one listens to it anymore.”

That was when Ramesh realized how old he had grown. Another time, he took Raju to get him ice cream. When they reached the ice cream parlour, Ramesh spotted a very old man selling a particular kind of sweet toffee with which Ramesh was very much familiar. He remembered how the sweet was crafted into watches, necklaces and wrist bands, which he and his friends were very fond of.

Ramesh asked Raju whether he wants one or not. Raju looked at it for a while and said, “This is disgusting. How someone can play with their food? I will get my ice cream.” Ramesh couldn’t help but remember how much he used to insist his mother to buy one of those sweets.

So, this is our Ramesh. Amidst all the happiness, the only thing that really makes him sad at times is, he misses his childhood more than anything else in the entire world, and no matter how hard he tries to relive those moments with his only son, it never goes as he expects. Raju has absolutely no interest in all those stuff. He is just a normal kid who loves his PlayStation 3 and gaming PC.

“PlayStation 3!” Ramesh suddenly remembered. Raju wanted the new Call of Duty game so much. He had been insisting to Ramesh for a long time. However, Ramesh had planned to gift him the game on his birthday, and it was Raju’s birthday tomorrow.

Hurriedly, he put on his shirt and rushed outside. It was 10 in the night but he knew of a game shop which would be open at this time, hopefully. The road was blissfully empty, with hardly any traffic as the rush time was over. However, just when he was a few blocks away from the shop, he spotted something and pulled the breaks of his car.

The car stopped abruptly with a screech. Ramesh got out of it and slowly moved towards a dingy looking shop. It was a toy shop; a very old one. He knocked on the door, but found that it was already opened, with one of the hinges broken. Hesitating a little, he entered.

There were all sorts of toys inside; cars and dolls and catapults and spinning tops… Every corner of the shop was bringing back a flood of nostalgia to Ramesh.

He picked up a spinning top and the rope with which it was played. He remembered how he used to have a match with his friends, betting on whose top would knock out the others. He remembered those days as if they happened just yesterday.

The inside of the shop was all rickety and smelled of old wood and dust. Ramesh wondered how the shop was so big from inside when it appeared so small outside. Putting the top back on the shelf, he approached the dusty counter and ringed the bell.

At first, he thought no one was there to answer him. A little bit disappointed, he was just about to leave when a very old man came out from the inside of the shop, smiling at him.

“How may I help you, sir?” the man asked with a warm smile.

“Umm, actually, I was looking something for my kid,” Ramesh said hesitatingly, “but…” “But you are not sure what you should get him, are you?” the old man completed the sentence.

“Yes, yes,” slightly taken aback, Ramesh said, “Uh, can you please help me?”

“Of course!” the old man said jovially, “That’s why I am here. So, what kind of games your kid likes?”

Ramesh was blank. He had a look at almost all the toys in the shop and had no idea what Raju would like most among them.

The old man stared at him for a while and then said, smiling, “Don’t worry. I know what the child would love. Give me a minute.” And he went inside.

After a while, he came out with a box. “Here,” he said, putting the box on the counter.

Ramesh looked at it in disbelief. It was a board game, and not just any board game. It was “Ludo,” his most favourite one. A slideshow of pictures started to scroll in front of Ramesh’s eyes. He was best in the game. He used to beat his cousins and friends every single time. They actually used to call him the king of Ludo.

“It will be his favourite too, worry not,” the voice brought Ramesh back to the present. The old man was speaking to him.

“Well, OK. I will take it,” he said and took out his wallet to pay. Suddenly, he remembered something. “I would take one more thing,” he said to the old man.

Driving back to the home, Ramesh couldn’t help thinking about the shop and the old shopkeeper. Suddenly, he remembered something with shock. How the old man knew Ludo was “his” favourite game? He sharply turned his car and drove to the shop. However, for some unknown reason, he never found it again.

Just when he parked the car at home, Ramesh realized that he completely forgot about Raju’s game. “What was I thinking?” he murmured to himself. Anyway, he decided to gift him the game of Ludo and hoped that Raju would like it.

“Papa! You got the new Call of Duty!” Raju came running to him the moment he entered. Smiling, Ramesh procured the Ludo box from behind.

Confused, Raju asked, “What is it?”

“Find it out yourself,” Ramesh encouraged him to unwrap the box.

When Raju saw the Ludo box, he asked Ramesh again, this time, a little bit annoyed, “What is it?”

“This is a game of Ludo, Raju,” Ramesh said, “It’s a board game, and really an entertaining one. Come here, I will teach you how to play with it.”

“But I don’t want it,” Raju was in tears, “I wanted my game, and you got me this? I don’t want it!” He threw it away and ran to his room.

Ramesh was hurt. He looked at the scattered tokens and die.

“Don’t feel bad,” his wife said, “it’s just that he has never played it. Give him some time, he will get it.”

Ramesh didn’t say anything, he was too tired and hurt. He just went to his study table and sat, lowering his head. He recalled how happy he was when his father had got him Ludo for one of his birthdays. It was not an ordinary one; the board was laminated and the die was shiny and big, like a gem.

He tried his best, but he was not able to control his tears. “It was a mistake, those days are long gone, never to come back,” he whispered to himself, “I should never have got him this game.”

He decided to return Ludo first thing tomorrow morning and get Raju’s video game. Just when he was about to get up, someone pulled at his trousers.

“Papa, I’m sorry papa,” it was Raju, his cheeks wet with tears, “I’m sorry papa, I shouldn’t have thrown it.”

Ramesh put his hand on Raju’s shoulder and said, smiling, “It’s OK Raju. I will get you Call of Duty tomorrow.”

“No papa, I want to learn how to play it. It looks interesting,” Raju said.

Ramesh looked at his wife who was standing at the door. She gestured him to go ahead and Ramesh knew who convinced Raju to give Ludo a try.

“Alright, it’s a very easy game, but nonetheless, a very fun one,” Ramesh said, putting the board on the table and arranging the tokens.

“Four players can play it, each having an option to select tokens from green, blue, red and yellow,” he started to teach as Raju watched keenly, “Each player gets a turn to roll the die and move their respective tokens accordingly. Are you getting it Raju?”

“Yes papa. I want to give it a try,” Raju said enthusiastically, “Can we have a game right now? Please?”

“Of course, but just one game, OK? It is late and you have to sleep,” Ramesh said, “but before that, I have something else to show.”

He reached for his trouser pocket and pulled something out. It was a spinning top with the rope.

“What is it!” Raju asked excitedly.

“Do you want to learn how to play with it?” Ramesh asked.

“Yes! Of course!” Raju said jumping around him.

Ramesh didn’t say anything. He just smiled and looked at his son who was now seven-years-old. 

The year was 2016, but who said 90s were over? 

श्वेत पट पर श्याम चित्रित होली

Often people complain that their life is too "black and white." What they forget is, both black and white are colours and doesn't define the aspects of being "colourless."

श्वेत पट पर श्याम चित्रित होली 

निद्रा है, स्वप्न भी है 

पर जो अंतरात्मा झंझोरती 

वो वास्तविकता से सामना भी है 

बेमन से दफ्तर की ओर बढ़ते कदम 

अनायास ध्यान आया 

रँगो का त्यौहार है 

होंठो पे एक मुस्कुराहट भी 

अनायास ही झलकी 

ख़ुशी निश्चिंततः ना थी 

हालाँकि ये गम की हँसी भी ना थी 

तो आखिर माज़रा क्या था?

वो कुछ नहीं, बस बचपन
और बीता वक़्त 

पास आ कर 

जरा मखौल कर गए थे

उसी क्रिया की प्रतिक्रिया थी 

मखौल  ही तो था 

वरना होली दिवाली में 

ये दीवालापन मस्तिष्क का

सवाल ही नहीं था 

सर झटक प्रयास किया 

खुद को वास्तविकता में वापस लाने का 

लेकिन ये कमबख्त सोच 

अपने घोड़े आज किसी 

और दिशा में दौड़ाने को अड़ी थी 

आवाज़ दी उसने 

क्या होली भाई तुम्हारे लिए?

यही अब जिंदगी की सच्चाई है 

कल में झूलना छोड़ दो 

इसी में तुम्हारी भलाई है 

मैंने सर झुका 

नीम के काढ़े जैसे 

उस अंतरात्मा की आवाज़ 

पर हामी भर दी 

और बोझिल क़दमों से 

अपने गंतव्य की ओर  बढ़ा 

दुहाई हो, 

इस श्वेत-श्याम जीवन की 

मैं बड़बड़ाया 

तभी, हाँ, बिलकुल तभी,

बिजली के कौंध सा 

आँखों के सामने 

अनगिनत रंगो के मेल का 

एक जोरदार धमाका हुआ 

और मेरी दृष्टि 

स्वयतः फैलती चली गयी 

ये रंग, जाने-पहचाने से थे 

अरे! इनसे तो बहुत पुराना नाता था,

मैं कैसे भूल गया?

आज भी याद है 

मोर को नृत्य करते 

जब पहली बार देखा था 

और इन रँगो से रूबरू हुआ 

कदम ठिठक गए 

इस बेमौके की याद पर 

और सोच फिर से 

सैर को निकली

लेकिन तभी 

एक दूसरी आवाज़ उठी 

मेरे  अंतरात्मा से ही 

और कहा 

मैं ही आदि, और मैं ही अंत 

बचपन से तुमको 

है इसकी खबर 

फिर किसने कहा 

श्वेत-श्याम की होली

होली नहीं होती?

मैंने ही तो रचा है 

आखिरकार, वो भी दो रंग हैं 

तुम भेदभाव क्यों करते हो? 

मत करो 

बस आनंद लो 

क्या पता, आने वाला कल

इन दो रँगो  की ही 

बुनियाद पर बना हो? 

बस आनंद लो... 

वो आवाज़, हाँ वही आवाज़ 

पहले भी कई दफा सुनी थी 

अनजान  हो कर भी 

जानी-पहचानी सी थी 

मन तो अभी भी बेमन था 

लेकिन दिल की धड़कनों ने 

कुछ अलग सा रुख ले लिया 

होंठों पे फिर एक 

मुस्कुराहट थी 

और क्यों  ना हो भई 

होली का त्यौहार जो था  

THE PROMISE

We all have made that one promise to that one person and never gave much thought while breaking it. Have you ever pondered upon how much that promise meant to that person?

The Promise

Standing at the old street of Raviwar Peth at Pune, I was expecting a surge of nostalgia. After all, it had been more than ten years since I last came to this place. However, far from nostalgia, I was not feeling anything, not even coziness that this street used to provide whenever Seya and I used to come here. What I was feeling was, I don’t know how to put it, a blankness - without any color or memories. 

The raindrops were a relief. Of course, I carried an umbrella. It is unwise not to carry one especially in the month of August in Pune. Apart from a couple of things like the crowd of Raviwar Peth and old, jerky buildings here, another thing that hadn't changed was Pune’s rain; unpredictable with brief duration, but momentous enough to drench you in a few moments.

I realized I was thinking so much about the things around me that I totally forgot about my purpose and why I was standing in a hideous street full of rickety infrastructures and shadowy people. Why I was thousands of miles away from my town, across continents and oceans? What brought me here? 

Ah, yes, she told me to meet her at this place. Alarmed, I scanned the jewellery shops across the street. No, no sign of her. Involuntarily, I looked at the watch. Damn, it had been two-and-half hours already! It was one of those rare occasions when I had to wait this long to meet someone since school.

Like past seven months, my heart was still beating with an unusual, strange rhythm. Though doctors told me it was nothing to be worried about, I knew something had changed. I had this feeling that this change, whether for good or bad, had taken a significant toll on my life. No matter how hard I will try, it won’t return back to the time when things used to feel so good, so comfortable, so….normal.

No matter how hard I tried not to indulge in past, I guess being at Pune and not thinking about my life was something that was beyond my will. Slowly, I found myself thinking about school more and more and about her too.

    

The bell was about to ring and I was already panicked. It had been more than an hour but there was no sign of Hari. Irritated, I checked my watch for umpteenth time. “Damn it nerd,” I said to myself. As usual, Seya was sulking around trying her best to look in my eyes.

“What?” unable to take it any longer, I snapped.

“Nothing.” she said in an I-don’t-care tone.

“Then stop creeping me out.”

Suddenly, I saw him. “Hari!” I shouted across the hall.

Taken aback, Hari looked at me for a full minute, and then he looked behind him. Irritated, I shouted again, “Yes, you!”

Duffer, but I can understand. It’s not a very usual thing to see a super geeky nerd talking with me, Anusha Mehta, one of the most beautiful girls in the school, or as boys used to say, “the hottest chick around.”

“He..Hey,” stammering, Hari came to me hurriedly.

Wearing my best fake smile, I looked at him lustrously, “Hey, hi. Congrats for winning the science Olympiad.”

“Who told you?” he looked at me, disbelievingly. 

I sighed. Well, totally understandable. Me following the on-goings of science Olympiad is again something which was highly unusual.

“Oh c’mon,” I said, keeping my smile intact, “something that prestigious happens in the school and I won’t know of it? Not a chance.”

A bit embarrassed, Hari started, “Well, nothing out-of-the-box, you know. This was just state level competition. It will be really hard to crack the national tournament.”

“That I know you will.”

“Really?”

I slowly came closer to him and pinched one of his cheeks with my fingers. Whispering in his ears, I said, “Do you doubt me?”

“Oh no! No no! Nothing like that” he said, a bit scared.

“Then can I expect a help from this prodigy?”

Hit with a surge of passion, he asked, “Anything, anything Anusha. Whatever you say.”

“Okay, I really need to finish that physics assignment, but you know, I have to prepare for my debate and also have to write an article on 18^th century England. I don’t know how I will manage all of it.” Saying that, I stooped a little and sighed that was audible enough for Hari.

Valiantly, he put his palm on my hand. “Why you worry so much when you have me as your friend? After all, if friends won’t help in the time of need, who else will? I will do your assignment. You prepare for the debate.”

I looked at him in the best-relieved way possible and hugged him tightly. I guess it was too much because he was literally dazed for a few moments.

Smiling, I bid him goodbye, but he was rooted to the place, looking at me, mesmerized.

Suddenly, I felt a jerk at my arm; Seya was dragging me away from Hari. When we were at a good distance from him, she turned to me.

“Here it comes,” I rolled my eyes.

“What is wrong with you?”

I was bored of this question and bored of the conversation that always followed.

“What are you talking about?”

“You know damn well what I am talking about.”

“It’s no use to ask a question the answer to which you already know.”

There. Bull’s eye.

I fired my ultimate shot, and now it was Seya’s turn.

And I know what was coming.

As always, these brawls used to end with her not talking with me for days and sulking more than ever. Nevertheless, I was familiar with all her tactics and knew how to coax gentle and sulky Seya Mathur.

“Okay baba, sorry.”

No reply.

“I won’t do it again.”

No reply.

“I swear on my life.”

“Will you just shut up?” it was her turn to snap.

I looked at her innocently and spread my arms.

“That look won’t work with me, you know.”

But anyways, she came to me and we hugged, the smile returning to her face.

So, that was Seya Mathur, my childhood friend. Coincidentally, both our fathers worked for same IT firm in Pune. We were neighbors since as long as I remembered. We grew up together and attended same school. More than best friends, we were like sisters. Hence, it was a joyful day when both of us were allotted the same section in 12^th grade. That was more than I could have wished for.

However, as they said, opposite poles attract each other. It was something like this between Seya and me too. Though we both were good in literature and arts, I was the “trendy” one and she was well, your usual “behenji” sort of schoolgirl.

I was hot. There is no doubt in it. She, on the other hand, used to wear these thick-rimmed specs and loose uniform that I hated like anything.  

“Look at me, my uniforms are a size smaller. You know it develops your personality and makes you appealing.” I used to nag her constantly.

“I don’t want to develop my personality in that way.”

So, moral of the story, I was hot and I knew how to utilize it. Despite constant warnings from Seya, I never used to miss any chance of exploring my looks for getting work done. Whether it was getting grades from male teachers or getting assignments done by nerds, I knew how to play.   

Like an old woman about to give lecture on life, stooping a little and pointing a finger at me, she said, “I don’t know why I care about you so much, but this will leave you with nothing in your life, just keep it in your mind.”

I grabbed her finger, “If I get into any trouble, you will be always there for me.” I said, laughing.

She looked at me, smiling a bit sadly.

“I won’t always be there, you know.”

The raining had increased. I looked again at both sides of the streets. Still, empty like a ghost town. I wondered whether it used to be this empty always or is it only today?

Yes, she was right. She left me very soon after that conversation.

Just a week after our 12^th board exams finished, a rampaging truck killed Seya. Her fault? She was just walking on the footpath. Apparently, the truck driver was drunk enough to lose his senses and rammed right into her.

I cried a lot. It was not like I really missed her, but it was shocking to have your best friend dead with whom you have spent so close times. Nevertheless, I was sad. Later that day, I went to hospital, but doctors didn't let me in saying her body was beyond recognizable. However, I didn't listen, and rushed into the ward.

Now I think of it, it was a huge mistake and the thought of it still haunts me.

I was expecting a dead body; instead, what I found was a seeping and reddened lump of deformed flesh on the bed.    

I shrieked and fainted.

It was all dark, and Seya was saying hurriedly, “Listen, you have to make a promise.”

“W..What promise?” I said, stammering.

“That you won’t die.”

“But why would I do that?”

“Just promise me, please.”

She was desperate. I noticed she was going away from me.

“Seya!” I tried to catch hold of her hand but she was slipping away as if a strong force was dragging her away from me.

“Just promise me!” I heard her voice from a distant place but I couldn't see her.

When I opened my eyes, I was at my home and mummy told me it had been several hours since I was unconscious. I asked about Seya. She told me her funeral was over already. I didn't say anything, neither did I weep. It seemed that my mind had entered some kind of unexplained blankness.

I checked the watch again. It was getting cold now. “Quarter past seven,” I said to myself. I was worried now. What if she don’t show up? To pass the time, I sat on a nearby stone parapet. Reluctantly, my mind started to ponder the reasons that led me back here in Pune.

After school, things went pretty smooth. I went to America, did my MBA and got a job at one of the good banks. I used to get a good pay. But with time, my needs started to increase. Money was something for which I was ready to do anything… and I did everything.

I slept with my colleagues, my customers, my boss… Anybody who was in the position to provide with money and luxury, I used to sleep with that person.

Very soon, my social stature took a significant leap. I became a member of elite class society. With parties, functions, social gatherings, and award shows, I never dreamt or expected that things will take such a turn.

For ten years, it went really good. I never married, because I knew I won’t ever be happy with one person and secondly, I knew I won’t be honest to one person.

Well, luxuries have their own price.

With growing age, my charm declined and so did my admirers. Now, I was not their fantasy anymore. They stopped noticing and taking care of me. In less than six months, I had to shift from a marvelous bungalow to a small apartment in New York. I was alone - no family, no children, nothing. I didn't even have enough money to go back to India. I had abandoned my parents a long time ago when they were constantly urging me to get married.

Nevertheless, I had to live, and for that, I needed money.

So, after trying my luck at hundreds of job vacancies, I resorted to one thing that I never thought I would have to do – selling myself for money.

Now, it was a downpour, even the umbrella was doing less to protect me. Suddenly, at a distant, I saw someone. It was all blurry due to the heavy downpour, but someone was moving towards me.

One day, while shopping for the grocery, I saw someone in the store that froze my bones; it was Seya. Yes, Seya as I saw her last, before her death. She was still that young. It can’t be, I said to myself. Nonetheless, there she was, staring at me from one of the ends of the store. I rushed towards her, pushing the crowd. However, when I reached there, she was nowhere to be seen.

I was not scared. No. I was just shocked beyond anything. How could it be?

After searching for a while, I left the store, convincing myself it was just an illusion or something like that.

It didn't end there. I should have known better. Since that day, no matter wherever I went, she was always there; lurking behind some corners. As soon as I used to spot her, she used to run into some dark corner or alley.

It started to affect my work. Already I was doing lowliest of things to barely survive, desire to find her out started to drive me insane. For days, I used to search for her in any random places. There was not a single street, alley or shop in New York where I didn't look for her for past one year. But whenever I saw her, she used to vanish. At times, I even ran frantically shouting her name, but in vain. The cops started to suspect me; maybe they were thinking that I escaped from an asylum.

One day, I just had enough and I decided to end this all for good. I didn't ask for this and I don’t think I deserved a life like it. So, one morning, I made a rope tying a few bed sheets and tied it with the ceiling fan of my bedroom. Just when I was about to hang myself, I found a piece of paper lying on the chair beneath. I was pretty sure there was nothing on it when I stood on it. Slowly, I came down from the chair and picked up the paper. It was a note written in hand writing:

“If you want to meet me, come to Raviwar Peth at seven in the evening on the seventh day.”

It didn't take me much long to identify that familiar writing. A chill ran through my spine. With shivering hands, I folded the note and put it carefully in my cupboard. Lying on the bed, I stared at the fan with the rope still dangling from it. What does it mean? How is it even possible? Is it some kind of hoax? Is someone playing a disgusting prank on me?

Deep inside, I knew it was not a prank. So, I started to think about what was written in the note. I had enough money to make a one-way trip to India. Anyways, there was nothing left here. I had to start with a new beginning.

Therefore, the next day, I started preparing and in a couple of days, I was off to India.

As the person came nearer, I realized it was silhouette of a girl. Suddenly, I noticed myself dreading to face her even though I knew who she was. In a moment, she was standing in front of me. Seya Mathur wore the same smile that she had the last time we met.

“This…. This can’t really be possible!” I said, hoping against hope that what I was seeing was just a hallucination and not reality. But against all my hopes and pleading, it was her standing here, as solid as the textile stores behind me. Still, something was unreal about her. For one thing, she hadn't aged and was still in the same clothes in which she died.

With quivering hands, I tried to touch her.

“You still don’t believe, do you?”

I retracted my hands quickly as if they touched a live wire. God, it was her voice for sure. However, it had lost the warmth and chirpiness that it used to have. Instead, a cold and hollow tone had replaced it, like a metal container was falling in an endless well or pit.

“You! Why you are after me? What do you want!”

Unable to control my yearlong anger and frustration, I burst out.

She didn't say anything. It made me more mad. Slowly walking towards me, she stood just a few inches away. I could see her eyes; they had lost their liveliness and a void had occupied them, without any feelings, expressions or life.

In the same cold, hollow voice, she said,

“You remember how much I cared for you. What I asked you to promise me?”

Transfixed, I just nodded a little.

She looked deeply into my eyes, her smile transforming into a grin.

“But you didn't listen, you never listened to me.”

I was out of words; it seemed that something was sucking the life out of my marrows.

“Anusha, you are dead.”

I don’t know why, but these words hit me like the claws of a wild animal. I was scratched and bruised, though not physically. I didn't even know what it meant, but I panicked and started shrieking. Suddenly, there was a sharp lightening; so strong that I closed my eyes for a moment.

When I looked again, she was no more there. Frantically, I looked at both sides of the street. The rain had stopped and the crowd was jostling in the market.

I never found Seya Mathur again. 

My new fiction novel - Valiants Apoplexy

Friends and foes! It gives me great pleasure to present before you my first solo novel - Valiants: Apoplexy. If you or any of your friends are into science fiction and fantasy, you won't want to miss this book. 

Formalities aside, do buy the book! The price is really modest and I bet you will love it. 

The book is available in e-format. To download, install Kindle app on your computer, laptop or cell phone and download the book through it.

Download Kindle:
https://www.amazon.com/gp/digital/fiona/kcp-landing-page?ie=UTF8&ref_=kcp_pc_mkt_lnd

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AND THE WINGS TRANSPIRE

There is this particular species of ants which grow wings when their life comes to an end. Ever thought what would you have done if such a phenomenon was with us human beings? What you will do? Where you will fly?

And The Wings Transpire

She tried hard to smile

I admit, it was convincing

Fidgeting with my fingers for a while

I knew what her mind was conceiving

He was strolling on the granite tiles

His eyes staring the pallid ceiling

The journey would take miles

His heart at its best was consoling

Mr. Blackwell put his coat

And slowly showed us the way

I never have thought

To pretend will paint my face

In such a gray

Then it began

I was waiting for it

But never expected

For it to happen

In such a brief span

My wings

Stone cold

But calm like sea

Their existence

Merged with mine

Defining my soul

With a vast spree

Happy I was

Though I could see

The dark tunnel was visible

In front of me

Whose other end

No one shall foresee

Such an irony

The moment

Terror reign my spirit

I was

At the verge of

Naming myself ‘Irit’

The vision hit the brain hard

Scurrying in a list

The game had already

Set the cards

I fly, yes

I flew to her

To say what was unspoken

What I never intended to let out

But this was

Demand of time

And her tears proved

As the oscillation chimed

Then again I rose

Up in the meek

There they were

Oh, the touch of their skin

On my cheek

I would have wait

Till eternity

But the voices

They were calling my name

Please, have a little more patience

O divine fraternity

I did this

I do that

I went there

And here too

Until the moment

They begin the shredding

Me?

More reasons to smile

Love and light

Filled my heart

Eradicating

All the possible ciphers of vile

Ah, so it’s time

The wings are gone

And so is the purpose

Gone? Wrong

Fulfilled; that’s now better

Yellow and orange waves

Accompanied by eternal red

Though still I venture here

The path to home is paved

I shall not stop them

It won’t be justice

But truly said

It was no gem

I know

They will understand

They will smile

That I know

And me? Well

My fingers still

Caress them

Where those unearthly wings

Once reside

TRIBUTE TO ONE WHO IS GONE FOREVER

I wrote this poem for someone who used to define my existence to a large extent once, but as fate had it, things turned unexpectedly as they have a knack to do often and that person is no more there. I don’t know the whereabouts but memories are memories. So, this creation is in tribute to the one who is gone forever. Sorry for the simplistic and plain writing but sometimes, things have to be crude in order to represent their true meaning or intention. Don’t you think so? Hope you can relate to it.

Tribute to one who is gone forever

Have a glance around

And tell me what you see

Isn’t the world full of

Things from which you want to flee?

This so-called society

Built on rational elements

May seem to mount over

The principles which

You comprehend

But as you know yourself

And as you know who are

These two paradigms

Will mark the destiny

With a longing scar

Rise, as you have always

Rise against your will

Rise till your body and soul

Cry for mercy

And beg to be still

For I know you can do it

I know you have done it

What it takes

For the bravest men

You have so easily

Adopted it in your will

When the situation

Will pinnacle menacingly

You will laugh at its face

And God knows the menace

Will bow before you

In a graceful pace

So fear not anything

As it is the mark-o-nature

Just advance like always

Breaking the barriers

And shifting aside all dangers

Just remember

When you will falter

I will be there to hold you

In one way or another

And when you will be

On that zenith’s height

When all the world

Will be at your might

You will always find me

Among the crowd

Raising my thumb

And with a smile really proud

Great things

Are meant for you

And great things

You will achieve in life

If nothing else

You will always

Find my best wishes

By your side.....