You.

Those stars,

All bright

Beneath the sky.

The sickle-shaped

Moon, shining

Up nigh,

Are no match

For your infinite

Smile, wider

Than the sickle,

Brighter

Than the little

Spots up high. 

Those swirls

On a spring,

Spiralling out.

The waves

Sparkling, at

The river's mouth,

Are no match

For the depth

Of your eyes

Shading 

The sorrowed,

Mirroring

The sunrise.

Those heavens,

Abodes 

Of powers divine.

The paths

Through lands

With blossoms fine,

Are no match

For you, 

Your heart,

Vast as this

World,

Soothing as the

Harp.

Love Massacred at Peshawar

Before I ramble on, I would warn you this: This post might make you cry, feel bad, nauseous or heartbroken. It might take over your mind, or it might infest your dreams. But I shall also tell you this: this crying will make you learn, and this sorrow would fill you with pity. It is your choice.

The gruesome Taliban bombing has left the world dumbstruck. Shooting children, more than a hundred of them, aiming right in the head - this incident has brought the human race to the edge of a revelation - that the hearts no longer reside in their bodies.

With the shooting of a single child, a thousand dreams were shot. With the shooting of a single child, millions of ambitions were shattered. But most important of all, with the shooting of a single child, a precious life was lost, which can never be forgiven.

The Pak Taliban entered that hapless Pakistani school, no remorse, no pity, no emotion. Did they not see the eyes of that curious five year-old, wide open at the mysterious object in their hand? Did they not see that terrified face of the shocked girl, praying for her safety? Did they not see the determined face of that gracious girl, who knew death was to come?

Did they not see humanity in those faces? Did they not feel the tears in their eyes?

Such massacring of small, innocent children by a terrorist group has finally opened the world's eyes. These ruthless bringers of terror don't discriminate on the basis of age or condition, they just pull the trigger.

If the anger seeps from my heart, I might even feel pity for those terrorists.

If anyone from Pakistan is reading this post, know fully that the people of our country hold no grudges against you. We are with you all through this, for in the end, they weren't Indian children or Pakistani children, they were human beings, children of this world, and they deserve to live.

I'd like to share this with the Pakistani government - before thinking about issues like Kashmir, which do need to be resolved - think of how broken you are from the inside. Think of the 150 children who were killed.

And most important of all, think of justice, pity and love.

Significance of the Small

Bonjour! It's been many days since I've mused on everyday things, but here comes another day filled with another one of my amusing musings.

Everyday things. Those really, really small, supposedly insignificant things fascinate you sometimes. The odd position of the things on your study table, the equal shapes of flower petals, the tiny ray of sunlight reflected from the tears of your eyes... small, but fascinating.

Sometimes, it's these small things which bring about life-changing revelations. A stream flowing in the bright sun may motivate you to follow your dreams. A shattering glass may inspire you to forgive. These things, hidden in the superficial, are of immense value and churn wisdom.

That's the reason small things of each day of our life must be contemplated, and never underestimated. 

These minuscule fragments of matter may create stunning realizations, but have you ever noticed that these fragments can bring about destruction? That an almost invisible microbe can bring about suffering? That some tiny nuclei fusing with each other can destroy an entire city?

This world has often been thought of as a place where we earn, eat and sleep. There's so much more than that. Luck, hope, emotion and the small, everyday things of life, those which are infinitely stronger than you, and constantly crave your attention.

Try giving it to them, and life will turn into a dream-like reality.

Wondering and Conspiring

So, I've been wondering a lot lately. Well, that's not new. A lot of us do. But when the result of that wondering is a wonder in itself, the excitement takes its toll.

There's a chapter about genetics in Biology, and I was studying about the DNA and the gene part, which is amazingly interesting. So each segment of the DNA which gives us a characteristic is called a gene. There's CODES on a gene which dictate our reactions to situations. 

Codes. Codes? The word struck a chord. Codes. Coding. Programming.

And then, the stunning revelation.

I started to wonder how these codes must be created or written. Binary? Or any language? Elemental language? Anyways, I began wondering who wrote, or decided, them. And thanks to Hitchhikers' Guide to the Galaxy, a thought crossed my mind, grasping hold of it.

Imagine, we are robots. Robots with commands programmed inside us (in the DNA) by any other intelligent life form in the universe. Robots. ROBOTS.

Our life is controlled by the intelligent life form. We are an experiment. It's all in our DNA. Fascinating. 

And there comes a plot for a sci-fi.

Leaving out all the science fiction, reality sets in. What language is this code REALLY in? Who decides it? Nature? Nature's robots, all of us? Or is it all decided by the cells inside us? If that is the case, we are being governed by a power inside of us.

There are endless arguments. Endless possibilities. Endless conspiracy theories. What's yours?

WARNING: This Poem is Hot

Howdy.
        How is it, people?
                Been busy?
                        Working?
                                Oh, no!
                                        You're slurping
                                                Coffee
                                                        From a cup.
                                                                And burping,
                                                                       Loud and
                                                                                Clear enough.

                                                                                 Now this seems...
                                                                           Great!
                                                                     Just go
                                                   With the flow.
                                          The winter's
                                      Here
                         (No where near!)
                 Miss that chill
           (And chicken
       from that hot,
 hot grill!)
                   
 The thing, folks
                 is now a hell lot
                       Clear!
                              The times are
                                        A-changing!
                                              (So are we!)
                                                       The blankets are
                                                                   A-blaming
                                                                           And we are
                                                                                   A-flaming
                                                                                            (Isn't it HOT?)

                                                                                                    I do hope
                                                                                         We humans...
                                                                                  Fart a bit less!
                                                                       The heat's taking
                                                              Over! The earth's
                                                       A mess!
                                         Live some better,
                      cowboys, have some
                  Respect!
            'Cause we're grilled fish
 (WHAT THE HECK?!)

Imagine

She lay on her back on the grass, which was holding her up like she was their queen. All around her, she could see vast landscapes covered with the plant, stretching beyond infinity. She turned her head back up towards the sky, dotted and sprayed with shining white dots that were the stars. Amidst the soothing music of those stars, she spotted the moon, round and regal. Yet another infinity, she thought.

The sky. Was it the wall of a chamber or the road to freedom? Was it confining or liberating? She did not know about that, but she did know that it was refreshing, vastened her imagination like itself. Took her to places.

One such place was the star slightly to the left. Definitely not the brightest, it was the star which took her eye when she sweeped the sky with her eyes. She directed her thoughts back towards that place, that star. 

Who knew what might be happening there? Would there be hard, black rock forming pools of red hot lava or would there be a light blue sky, splayed with bright-coloured rivers running through forests of icicles? Would there be tiny carriers of life trotting forth on the path or would there be magnificent giants sitting on cliffs?

It might happen that a person lying down on the ground in that place, just like her, and looking up at the sky, just like her, could be thinking of the landscapes out there in the places in the sky, just like her. Now that she came to think of it, it may happen that she was watching herself from another dimension!

She looked around her again. Dew drops settled down on the grass were glinting with joy as they reflected the light of the moon. The air blew fresh as it held hands with the grass. 

She breathed, sitting up, and found herself at her desk, writing.

Ah, imagination. 

Diwali Gifts and What They Mean

Every Indian must relish that joy one feels when a guest (expected or unexpected) drops in during the Diwali holidays and brings with them that wondrous mystery of the gift they are carrying. Sometimes,you must have caught yourself prying the wrapped gift with laser-sharp eyes, trying to see through the paper.

I seriously don't know about others, but I certainly have felt it myself. 

That short-lived joy when you find out that it's either a bed sheet, or some kind of utensil and the eternal joy when there is some truly heavenly mithai and a box of Lotte Choco Pie, makes you want to know what's in that attractively dressed mystery object. Yum.

However, seeing as how much thought goes into giving the gift to someone, the mental labour ends up as nothing when your gift is usually passed on to someone else eventually. It's true that a few of the gifts are kept by us, but more than half end up in another party's hands. 

Not that I hate it. I think it's fascinating. 

I know someone who swore that they received the gift they had given to someone back through somebody else. Unexpected, eh? No doubt it's the constant circulation of gifts taking place during the season. 

It's not useless, nonetheless.

Isn't this what binds us all together? In today's times, when people rarely visit each other, Diwali provides a good reason for meeting up with someone with a gift in your hand. It is the festival of lights, still providing a way to tie us all together.

And because of all these family dramas, mysteries covering presents, and all other possible things you get to see that you never experience during ordinary times, I truly love Diwali.

And, by the way, Happy Diwali!

Eternal Thoughts

Here we are, yet again, stuck in this cycle of ups and downs and peaks and valleys and ebbs and flows, a cycle which is unavoidable and loss is inevitable. In other words, we are paddling the cycle called Life.

For me, Life is about bringing out and expressing the best in you and the worst in you, learning from it and transforming it into a reason to live for. That you, alone, are capable of so much and there's so much left to do - the end of our actions never comes. The Universe may end some day but a little of us will still be there, floating perhaps as a tiny particle in the abyss. For we are eternal.

A feeling of giving up after enduring a large amount of pain envelops you when you feel downtrodden, but that particular feeling is inside everyone, and isn't enough to make you feel bad or to make you think that Life is being unfair to you. A mountain may emerge in your path some day and the strongest are the ones who manage to scale it. Never give up, the wind will blow across your face and take away every sorrow in the end, passing you in the test.

We may change the world with our inventions and discoveries; we may earn money like never before, manage to gain popularity, but deep down, it's about the blood that's pumping across our veins and making us feel alive. Feel that blood flow in your temple and let it charge each and every part of your body, you'll feel alive, feel yourself, like never before.

Life is such a complex creation that it is beautiful in all sorts. How things in nature irrevocably follow the rules and break them too but the Universe just keeps moving on. Because in the end, everything has to move on. But, you don't go empty-handed, what you take with you is a vast set of ideas and ideologies that change you completely.

That's why you have to live every moment and appreciate it, accept that each one, each object has its own perfections and imperfections but those perfections and imperfections are so beautiful that you can't help but smile. 

Hope

And as she watched around her,
The water flooding the present,
She knew that wading out of it
Would mean approaching torment.

As for the waves, hard they clung
Onto her fearless feet
Which faced the brunt of the stones
Lashing beneath.

Long she tried, hard she fought
Against the raging sea.
One little hope holding on to her,
The waves will recede.
The waves will recede. 

A Night of Moonfaring

 That silver globe is the center-piece of the sequined veil that is the night-time sky. Emitting a glow composed of orange hues, it hangs over the dark green shadows, the trees, as if prophesying a divine intervention. The moon, stimulator of imagination. The moon, representative of hope. The moon, personification of beauty.

As I walk through the highly urbanized lanes of New Delhi, the moon suspended in the gigantic sky, I sense flashes and visions flowing through me, reminders of a place full of nature, full of stars and earth carved from natural processes. Although the moon highly contrasts with the buildings and streets and streetlights, it finds a place among them as a carrier of good. 

The full moon, visible from my place. Isn't it beautiful?

See that bright spot on the top? That's the Moon! 

It isn't visible that well due to the photo quality, so take a look yourself!

Today, the sky is donned by that beautiful full moon, the spirit which inspired me to lay down its praise. Looking at the moon, I envision the craters, the vast glow that is the sun, and the most beautiful of all, the breathtaking stars. A sight rarely seen on this Earth, the stars wink their eyes, twinkling, at the moon, at the whole universe. The stars provide an insight into the mysterious marvels of the universe, its uniqueness, and its infinity. 

As the moon slowly grows larger in my eyes, showcasing its royalty, a time comes when I'm lurched back into the present, and the dull sights of grey buildings strike my curious eyes.

Nature is, indeed, a beauty.

An Exam-Time Reverie

There's the marriage season in November, the holiday season in May, or the party season on New Year. And then... there's the exam season in September.

The exam season. When children across every school in India are immersed in the vast syllabus prescribed by the Devil (if you are in school, you know who the devil is).

At a particular time in mid-morn, thousands of students across India are wiping the sweat tickling their faces and folding their hands in secret, praying and cursing for getting this dumb fate. I almost imagine the Chairperson of the Devil leaning back in his chair and laughing a demon's laugh, for making fun of millions of students with just two sheets of paper.

As for me, exams are pretty much over when Science and SSt are done, the two subjects in which intensive studying is applied. Maximum memory per unit area of the brain is used for these two subjects.

Now that these two boulders are out of my way, I thank Thee for this unusually good luck, and sit here, writing whatever comes to my mind, on this 15-inch screen placed on my lap.

Two and a half weeks is so much time, and writing after this much a duration, is, well, refreshing!

So, obviously, there's a book lying open on my side, unhindered, waiting to be attended to. And then I see this extremely attractive grey metal notebook lying at a distance, reflecting the hungry light of my eyes.

You know what the obvious choice is.

And that's why studying can never be pure, it's always adulterated with blank stares at the wall, daydreaming, opening the laptop, scribbling, blank stares at the wall, and blank stares at the wall.

Therefore, thanks for being distracted while mugging up and reading this blog post as a result. And that's why, dear child, you should go and study now.

(Evil laughs heard.)

Hailing Happiness

Happiness is a variable term - for some, it may be receiving the much-awaited video game as a birthday gift. For some, it may mean winning a renowned competition. For some, it may be the publishing of the next book in the series, and for some, it may be holding your mother's hand after a long time.

Everyone wants happiness to play a paramount part in their life. It's ironical that when people fight for happiness, they usually end up grieving.

For most people, things that make them happy are generally part of a massive web of illusions. Some humans have an insuperable thirst for wealth, power and submission. At that moment, happiness becomes a puppet operated by the clever actions of greed. Such people finally realize when they are experienced and old, that everything had been for nothing. They hadn't known true happiness at all.

Clearing the mist in front of our eyes, it becomes clear that happiness is nothing but finding something good in small, unnoticeable things, along with enjoying their company. In short, enjoying every moment of your life, finding a good reason to live for, can give birth to eternal happiness.

'Happiness can be found even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light.'              

                                                                                                                     -Albus Dumbledore

We do like being happy, don't we? Well, it's time we understand that spreading happiness is a much more important thing. Providing others with happiness is free of cost, isn't it? Who knows? One day, someone might return the favour!

And that is why I'd like to add to the list of things and situations I mentioned earlier - for some, happiness is giving happiness to others.

And that makes all the difference in the world.

Making Life Worth It

As my pen scribbles across the ruled pages of my worn-out notebook, readying my unfocused mind for the inevitable exams, a thought makes way into that great cesspool of thoughts. I ask myself, 'What the hell are you doing, man?'

Perplexed, I question that nagging sensation. 'What do you mean? Isn't it obvious?'

'If you think you're studying, think again, young girl. Are you actually learning? Or are you just trying to gobble up as much marks you can get and remove what you learn right out from your body?'

I put down the pen and sigh. Not those rants about the education system, yet again. 'I know, okay? It's kind of a habit right now, attending school for the exams.'

'Well, don't focus on marks, then. It's okay to study for the exams to some extent. A general knowledge of the subject is essential. But what do you really love? Something you never get bored doing?'

The answer immediately comes to my mind, as clear as water. 'Writing delights me. And solving puzzles, too.' These interests were skimmed from the top of my mind.

'I think you should do that more, lately. Otherwise, what's the use? Just foresee the future, a bit. You study, give the exam, get your marks etc, etc. Isn't it high time you focus on something you want? Along with other things?'

'But why?'

'Your talents define and shape your life. Don't waste your childhood just like that, spending your time doing something you can't even explain. Make it more real!'

'To make it all worthwhile?'

'To make it all worthwhile.'

A Letter To A Stranger

Dear Stranger,

For the first time in my life, I'm thinking about you. You, as a person, with a strong personality. You...

Every single day, you walk past me, completely unnoticed. You may be smiling, or you may be morose, but you go by with as lilliputian a presence as ever.

Because of your minute existence on my Road of Life, do I overlook you? Do I forget to appreciate your well-being, or mourn your dolefulness? Have I forgotten that you are as much a human as I am, with similar, even larger, difficulties?

Drowning in the sea of my own sorrow and disappointment, do I forget that you, who I see everyday, have a similar mind? That I have no right to blame Nature because Nature is unfair to everyone, including you and me?

I ask the world around me - why is this happening to me? Do I ever ask why it's happening to you? Or us? Consumed with myself I am, thinking I'm the most hapless person in this whole wide world. Now I realize, it's a big mistake.

You made me think, dear stranger. If life is unfair to everyone, why be sad about it? Why not live it as joyfully as possible, fulfilling your wishes and not getting depressed when they aren't? Along with it, why not make life a bit more fair for everyone - think less of ourselves and more of others? More of each other?

Our body is an effective mask, an illusion as strong as any, through which we fail to see the heart, filled with bundles of mixed emotions. I forgot that life is beautiful and complex, and that yours is as topsy-turvy as mine. 

Who knows what you're suffering from? Why you were compelled to do that thing? Take the jump, or fashion the blade?

I feel as much regret as you, as much felicity as you, keep as many expectations as you. Yet, there is the difference of the land and the sky between us. Then why not appreciate each other's existence, and exist together in harmony, complementing each other's presence on this earth? 

As I look at you, I try to imagine you at your home. There you are, sitting on the side of a sick mother, or carrying your dead father to the hospital. There you are, not able to get your wished-for job, seeing your dreams break apart. You may feel there's no one to understand you.

However, by thinking about this mystery you are trapped in, I feel empathy surge inside me, and I can proudly say, that I care for you, and I believe in you. 

From now on, I promise to understand you, and by doing that, understand myself to an even greater extent.

With Love,
Another Thoughtful Stranger

Running Away

My hands pulled at my tie, removing it and throwing it aside. The disappointment conquering my brain couldn't be more well-pronounced - why doesn't anyone understand me? Every time something starts getting better, it becomes even worse.

I spent a fortune on this house, my latest-tech phone, those smart glasses. I even gave up my own ways to relate with the modern people of this world - my old eating habits, washing habits etc, thinking, the result would help me fare, making me a better person.

Help could not be spared by anyone, even sympathy was a hard thing to come by. Does anyone care? Do the people of this world deserve to exist? Do I deserve to exist?

I sat on the bench, pondering my life gone wrong. This sadness caused me to observe my new house better than ever - I had never appreciated the airiness and freshness provided by the trees and the grass.

I stood up, walked over to the center of the lawn, and lied down, arms and legs in the shape of a snow angel. Those small plants pricked me and raised me out of my sadness into a sky full of understanding. I looked at the leaves, waving and calling out to me.

Immediately, I knew what to do.

Without a moment's delay, I prepared for my plans. When all the material was packed and clasped tightly in my arms, I made my way to that giver of life, the forest.

I decided to walk, taking in my surroundings to the fullest. My feet trod on different paths, each teaching me something, telling me something about myself. When I was on the verge of getting to know what I truly was, I saw the canopy of trees.

My legs couldn't resist the urge - they ran as fast as they could, propelled by the soothing air, which constantly whistled in my ears, inspiring me to move on. I kept running until I reached a place much out of reach of the outside world.

Opening my pack, I took all the wood and began the work. Surprisingly, it never felt tedious to build my would-be home myself. The insects moving around me gave me company as I positioned the wood at the right place.

Finally, when the last stone was resting in its place, completing the charming little cabin, I took a look around. Green. Yellow. Brown. Black. Orange. My eyes whirred through the phenomenal transformation of colour taking place, reminding me of the transformation I had just gone through.

Death - Why So Afraid?

On asking people what they fear the most, more than half of them would say that death is the phenomenon that frightens them the most. Why death, I wonder?

Death is a beautiful thing. Our whole life is spent with the aim of a proper death. If we live for death, why be afraid of it? Maybe, death is just another facet of life! It's a mysterious thing - what does death represent? Is it the end?

The fact that I can die any moment, maybe even while writing this, exempts me from fearing it. It is inevitable, has to come some day. Why treat it as if it's the worst thing that can happen to a human being?

For some, it's the best that can happen to them.

Why don't we concentrate on living, rather than dying? Live every moment of the present like its filling you up completely. Death will come as a natural thing then.

See, that's the problem with many people. They live their lives, fretting and alert for the skeletal reach of the end. Result? They die, regretful, sorry for their past mistakes. They, unfortunately, don't know that immortality can be achieved in another person's heart!

The only thing I hate about it is the effect it has on the people around you.  For this, death should be perceived as something completely normal, and should not be mourned. I know it is really very difficult, but still ideal.

Sorry for depressing you on this already-depressing Sunday, but, as Dumbledore says,

"Death is but the next great adventure!"

The Much Awaited Moment

14 August, 1947

Gayatri ran her hands through the smooth, silky cloth of the sari her mother had gifted her. The softness of the fabric, a reminder of the good thriving in her country, calmed her disturbed mind. She brought the sari closer to her nose, taking in the scent. She was going to wear it on the auspicious day – the day for which she had been waiting ever since her…

Screams filled her ears and a splatter of blood obscured her vision. The air was saturated with the words Help! Help! The sounds of whips caused her to lift her hands to her ears, shutting down the flashback.

Her cacophonous thoughts reminded her of her grandfather, killed in that bloody raid. Anger surged in her heart, mixed with an unwanted grief. Grandpa…

Tonight, the deeds of the culprit would be avenged. Many years ago, her uncle, her mamaji, had killed his wife for protecting his beloved. Gayatri hadn't eaten for days, she remembered. But tonight, the good will triumph.

However, the usual silence before the storm was brimming with riots between the Hindus and the Muslims. Why weren’t they rejoicing? Everyone’s wish was going to come true. Then why were the communal groups fighting?

Doesn’t Bapu say everyone’s equal and needs to unite?

After tonight’s turning events, she would be able to walk freely on the streets, in the galis, without the unsettled fear of any impending danger. She would be able to experience watching a film, able to eat food of her choice…

She was going to be independent. Hindustan was going to be independent.

Gayatri smiled. Pakistan had gained its freedom today, it was only a matter of time before…

She didn’t know what it was like to be free – to voice your opinions, to not hesitate. What with the valiant nationalists, she was soon going to learn.

In her heart of hearts, glory was finding its way. Now everyone in the world would know the injustice her country had been subjected to. Added to that, the earth will discover the talent of her motherland’s people – the weavers of intricate cloths, the makers of savoury dishes… the Hindustanis.

‘Gayatri!’ A voice rang out through the room in which she was contemplating the near future. ‘Gayatri! The time has come!’

She quickly changed into the sari she'd been clasping in her hands. With every twist of cloth, the excitement increased.

An adrenaline rush prompted the girl to run out of the room, straight into her maa’s arms. ‘Maa, is it true then, is it really going to happen?’

‘We have to go, Gayatri. Come, I we will walk to the nearby intersection. Mohan is driving the cart to the fort. Come on, dear!’

As Maa walked, Gayatri skipped on her toes, the situation seeming unbelievable. The galis were almost empty now, everyone having departed already. The rest were humming, secretly rejoicing in the moonlight that seemed to renew every moment.

When they reached Mohan, the jolly and good-hearted cart man, he ushered them on with a smile. Gayatri knew what he was thinking – the thought was dwelling in everyone’s minds at that time.

As they drove on, the trees greeted Gayatri like an old friend, waving their leaves at her. They too must be happy, she thought. Smiling at each person she saw, she waited for The Moment.

After a few minutes of patience, a magnificent fort of red sandstone loomed before her. The Red Fort. She checked her watch. 12:00 a.m.

Gayatri, her mother and Mohan joined the crowd gathered in front of the pedestal. The same mood hung over the monsoon air – that of relief, wonder, intrigue. Suddenly, a cheer erupted from the crowd. Narrowing her eyes in focus, Gayatri saw the familiar man with that familiar topi. Chacha Nehru!

As he began to speak, an abrupt silence blocked the throats of the onlookers. Everyone was quiet.

‘At the stroke of the midnight hour, when the world sleeps, India will awake to life and freedom.’

Gayatri felt herself lifting off the ground as she celebrated the moment with joy.

The Reality of Religion

Religion - well, what do we think it really is? Most of us think that religion constitutes different sects of people having the same views and believing in the same ideals.

I disagree.

All of us are born into our religions. Since our birth, we are spoon-fed the different ideas that were laid down by the founder of that religion. As a Hindu, even before I know what Lord Krishna has really done, I am taught to worship him. Something similar to this may also happen in Christian or Muslim or Sikh households.

In short, instead of seeing the world through our own eyes and judging it on the basis of what we think and forming our own opinions, we are told the scheme of things which the religion says. Result? We see the world through biased eyes.

I think religion should not mark where a person belongs to or in how kind of family he/she was born. Instead, religion should be understood as a group of ideas, which can be followed by any person irrespective of their birth.

Why see the universe from just one point of view? From the beginning, the focus should be on teaching different ideas promoted by various people. You are free to follow the one which seems more plausible, or, better still, form your own set of ideals.

I don't call myself a Hindu, or a Muslim, or anything of that sort. I have views which range from Hinduism to Christianity to Islam. But it's not like only those ideals set in Hinduism appeal to me. I have read about these things, and have formed my own opinions.

So why trap your mind? Let the river of your mind flow to far-off lands and see the world in the eyes of a new-born!

Another Piece of Poetry

The waves of Time washed upon her,
Hauling the feather along
The sand, wet with sorrow
The shells, accompanying her song.

A Piece of Poetry

The wind sweeps the hills high
Blowing away my sorrows, filling up my wounds.
Taking me to lands far and nigh-
The marvelous realms where happiness blooms

Perks and Whims of being Who You Are

This post has the ability to reach many people, just try to answer the question I'm asking right now... To all the grown-ups - Do you ever feel like becoming a child again? To all the kids - Ever want to grow up? And, finally, to all the teenagers - Aren't both the questions applicable to you? 

This revelation here is not at all surprising. I am a teenager, and I can say that sometimes we want to go back in time and become once again, a baby - for there is no homework, no tension for how much you're going to achieve... you don't know what a tight schedule is, at all! At the same time, we want to just transform into an adult... Oh! College! That way no one can command you, you are your own dictator, free to do what you want to. All of us want this, right? We want to travel back in time, go further in it, but we just don't want to be where we are. Don't all of us think it'd be fun?

How very wrong we are.

This announcement may have turned you yellow in the face, or you may have fended it off, thinking, BS. But it's actually true. I have read the views of many grown-ups who want to go back to school and live those care-free (!) days again. I myself have made some observations.

Every May and June, we get to stay at home for the holidays. This doesn't exempt our parents from working, however. There're no summer holidays when you grow up, just the weekend in between. Quite the opposite, eh? 

Now, imagine being an adult. Not in school, in the real world. You're working, and every day is a test, harder than before. You can't fail... one mistake and people can die - whether you're a doctor, an engineer, a chef - anything! I can't think of living with such a tremendous weight upon my shoulders!

Added to that, is your family. If, suddenly, you fail and lose your job. There's a low income and big family. How are you going to fulfill their expectations? Keep them happy so you're happy? An answer to all these questions will be able to quench my thirst.

As for the  perks of being grown-ups... I think that once you're an adult, you can work in a field which interests you, and not forced to uptake every single subject, as long as you take the right decision. Even hard work is fun once you're doing something you're interested in.

Once you're old, so many options open and age limits close their doors - you can do whatever you want, no restriction! Full-on river rafting? Go on, you're of age! Vote for the elections? Your welcome!

I've often heard people say never to point out the mistakes of the adults - they're older than you, you don't have the right to correct them. Well, aren't they as much human as we are, capable of committing mistakes? That's as much of a perk as it is a whim, isn't it? THINK!

Now, now, enough of being grown-up. The time has come for the adults to ponder - are the teenagers' lives in present-day conditions as easy as they once were? 

Well, sadly, there has been a humongous change. Earlier, the kids weren't that busy... no holiday homework, no project to be submitted every single week, no C.C.E., in short... Now, our life is a constant struggle between what we want to do and what people expect us to do. If my passion is writing, I often get advised to keep it as a side-profession. Why? Too risky. Well, only if I am fully devoted to my profession, will I be able to excel in it, isn't it? 

When you're old, the first step towards your career is already taken. However, if you're my age, you'll get to know that most people around us think that career is the one and only thing which matters in life and no effort should be made for anything else. I fail to see the point.

Added to this stress, there's peer pressure. In short, what would people say? Although I'm interested in humanities, if I opt for it, what would people say? Too much focus on your studies, you lose your friends. Concentrate more on your friends, the level of your studies falls.

To summarize, teenage is a mental battle between what's right, what's easy and what's acceptable. There's no chance if you don't fit in.

Perks and whims practically exist everywhere, most prominently in your head. So why don't we just throw them away? Let's just enjoy the present! Who knows? We may just want it back!

How Small yet Big we are!

The universe spans over gazillions and gazillions of light years and parsecs... so big that it's an infinity in itself. Us humans are not even properly aware of what lies inside its unknown boundaries, how will we discover what lies beyond it? The most monstrous stars, the largest planets, the most gargantuan of galaxies - all are but a speck of dust if we take the universe to be a tremendous desert.

Do you expect it to remember you?

You, who are equal to nothing in front of the boundlessness of the universe. You, who doesn't even remember to remember yourself, forget others. Do you expect the universe to make you feel special?

If we take the whole universe to be a calendar, you are but a speck in the last millisecond of the last second of the last minute of the last month, not even visible, hidden in the shadows of Time. Do you matter, then?

Do you expect this vast expanse to work for you?

As for me, I can heave my chest and proudly say, 'Yes!'

You must be wondering, why do I say so?

I believe that we are part of the universe, and it is up to us what choices we make and how we execute our work. Don't we feel good if we do it properly? Maybe the universe doesn't work for you, maybe someone else doesn't care about you - you care for yourself and make yourself feel special. Because in the end - it's up to us what we do in our lives, which is more meaningful and important than what the universe does for us in our lives.

If we try our best in everything, do the toil ourselves, the universe will surely notice you. It'll reward you!

I am as much a part of the universe as you are, or the Milky Way Galaxy is, for value doesn't depend upon how big or small you are, it's about how big or small your heart is. Appreciate yourself, the things around you. Appreciate everything as the universe, as a part of the universe... just like you.

Sit down in the lap of nature and breathe the clean, fresh air. Notice the aesthetic creations of nature and regard them as your brothers and sisters, make them your family. Fill your heart with happiness, however dark the times may be.

And the universe will appreciate you.

Thanks for the Wishes!

So, the holidays are going on right now, and enjoyment is included in everyone's schedule. For example, I'm currently having the time of my life with my cousins, who made my birthday yesterday a very special day for me (thanks, Shubhi and Karan, but I think I made your day special too, for now you have too many posters to your disposal, including one of minions).

Heartily, I would like to thank everyone who wished me and thought about me, and may you keep wishing me every year (that's my blessing!)

Your birthday is a day when you can keep aside all tensions and just appreciate that you've got a life and you got ahead of millions of others by turning 14 (in my case).

As a more comforting thought, I'm slowly getting closer to my death. Hehe.

Anyways, I would like to share that if it's your birthday, irrespective of your age, just enjoy, for you won't turn 14 (or 100) every other day!

I read this quote somewhere:

"You know you're old when the candles won't fill the cake."

(But that's not applicable in my case. The cake welcomed the fifteen candles happily. Thanks again!)

Food for Thought

The topic I'm going to bring up right now is so powerful that it can embarrass all of us and make us introspective simultaneously. The moment I thought about this, I started looking at all of my belongings in a different way, with a different perspective altogether.

Let's talk about human nature. Most of us say that we want to do good to others, donate money when we grow up etc, etc. All of us think of an angel residing inside us. But when I thought of this for long stretches of time, I realized that although we may do petty works of charity, we still live for ourselves, for our satisfaction. Evolution has made us greedy.

You must have heard about Charles Darwin's Theory of Survival of the Fittest. During this long race of evolution commencing millions of years ago on our planet, only those who are the strongest, can survive. If an organism is strong, it means that it is capable of escaping from danger. Thus, we come to know that those who can save themselves on time are the ones who survive.

Eventually, man started thinking more and more of himself and his need to survive. Fulfilling his desires, his ambitions, suddenly became his sole aim in life. And that's how the nature of greed is embodied inside all of us. Is this right?

The children of today (which also include me), pester their parents to buy a particular video game for them, or  some music album, or another expensive touch-screen watch. Have you noticed that expensive has become the new cool?

Such a thought came into my mind when I saw someone buying Ralph Lauren sunglasses worth ten thousand rupees. Would a pair of sunglasses worth five hundred bucks given us less protection from the blazing sun?

What if we look at the poverty in this world. Many people often talk about this topic, talk about how they want to abolish it. Many people work as hard as they possibly can and still can't feed their families well. These are the people who are looted by the government leaders and the business magnates and capitalists. Their money is hoarded in large amounts by the government. And what do they get in the end?

What I mean to say is that the money wasted in fulfilling our greed for expensive items can be utilized for much better results, which will benefit you in the end. I'm not saying that we shouldn't buy expensive things. If there is a need for them, then no one's stopping you. What I want to make all of you aware about is that when cheaper and qualitative counterparts are available, why buy the costly ones just because they're 'cool'?

I hope you don't misunderstand me. Just now, much debate arose regarding the Mars mission launched by India. According to sources, its budget was 70 million dollars. Many people said that this money could have fulfilled the requirements of the economically weaker. However, they fail to understand that this spacecraft was sent for a purpose, not for showing-off to the countries (well, we aren't sure, are we?)

No one says that the money used in the films could have been put to use in a better way. Do you know that the budget of the movie Gravity is hundred million dollars, which is more than that used in the Mars mission? Can you tell me which one has a better use - the Mars mission or Gravity (movie)?

In the end, I would like to say that money doesn't make us who we are. It is our personality which truly defines us.

A Scandal of Sorts - Ch 10

The woman in heels, Tia, now sat on the sofa and told us our story.

‘As I told you, I was in the organisation at one time; my older sister was against this decision the whole time. 

'I couldn’t cope with it, I couldn’t oppose my sister. But the problem is, you can’t quit once you’ve joined, so that the secrets don’t leak out. When they came to know the motive for my departure, they killed my sister. Now they are after me. That man I murdered in your lawn, he was the assistant of the head. He was following these two men throughout their journey.’

‘And you were following me, weren’t you?’

‘Well, yes. I, err, wanted to talk to you.’

‘No need to freak me out, then. When is this head of the organisation sitting as a judge in the court?’

‘His next hearing is tomorrow.’

I spoke up, ‘Not a moment to lose. Let’s prepare for it. Let’s bring it on!’

The next morning, the four of us – Uncle James, Ralph, Tia and me – were seated nervously in a taxi, in the disguise of journalists. Two of us had a notepad in our hand and a pencil tucked behind our ear, one had a camera in hand, and the fourth person had a mic with the name of the news channel imprinted upon it.

The taxi parked, we paid our fare, and entered into the place where the hearing was to be conducted.

After twenty minutes of looking into evidences, questioning and defending, the judge declared, ‘I  hereby announce that Àaron Abano will be hang-‘

Our friend Tia couldn’t contain herself any longer, for she got up fiercely and shouted some words which won’t look good written here. The whole court paused, absolutely silent. Tia continued, ‘This person is innocent, the one who is guilty is the judge. Juan Pedro, you are caught. You’re doomed.’

The police edged closer towards Tia. She rolled up her sleeve, and on her arm was tattooed the name of the organisation amidst speared heads and spilled blood. I was aghast, my mouth wide open.

Pushing people aside, the former member of the scandalous organisation forcefully rolled up the sleeve of Juan Pedro, the head of the organisation, and on that arm was tattooed the same symbol.

The policeman understood something was wrong. ‘What’s going on? What’s this symbol?’

‘It’s of a criminal organisation which has survived in our mist and has been executing people since time immemorial.’ I, too, was angry now. This is the man who killed my beloved father. He will have to be punished.

I got up, my fists clenched. Somehow, Ralph and Uncle James knew I was getting violent and out of control. They held me back. Juan Pedro would meet his fate, sooner or later.

And he did. Juan Pedro, the man behind the biggest crimes of the century, was awarded one death sentences for all the death sentences he had declared. JUST. ONE. DEATH. SENTENCE.

THE END

A Scandal of Sorts - Ch 9

On hearing about my father’s murder, my suspicions were confirmed and I was surprised in the least. I replied, ‘I knew a crime was being committed. And see what happened. My father and Ralph’s brother, both were murdered.’

‘Then you had wondered about its perplexing features.’

‘Why did this murder happen, Uncle?’

‘This organisation is brutal, in all sorts. It implements crimes, you can say. The person who wants to kill a particular person approaches this organisation, which charges the person large amounts of money. The murder is committed in the court, by sentencing the hapless person to death.’

‘But Uncle, how come you know such details? Do you know someone from inside the organisation?’

‘Research always helps, my boy. I studied the evidence in your father’s case. It was too obvious, and made it absolutely clear that your father was the criminal. However, if you ask me, if a criminal can commit a crime, he can also remain careful and make sure that the evidence doesn’t point towards him.

‘In your father’s case, the evidence was too obvious that it was clear that somebody else placed that evidence there after the crime was committed. Your father was innocent. A member of the organisation had committed the crime of which your father was accused and placed evidence pointing to your father. My 

brother was trapped in their web.

‘However, the court didn’t emphasize on the evidence, for the judge himself was the head of the organisation. Beginning to end, their victim is doomed.’

‘What had my father done to deserve this fate? Why did evil overcome the good?’

‘Your father had come to know of that organisation’s criminal nature and would have disclosed their secret if not for his murder. It happens such to the good. They die early. That’s why we mourn them. Because they die early…’

‘But Uncle, there must have been more people who would have lost their lives to this cold-blooded organisation.’

‘Yes! My sister, she had a fate no different!’ A tap, tap sound came from the direction of the open window. A tall woman in heels walked up to us and stood nervously.

‘Who are you? That was sudden,’ my uncle inquired, fidgeting.

‘I am Tia. I know who the head of the organisation is. I know where he is and I have the proof regarding his felony. For I was the member of the organisation, once.’

A Scandal of Sorts - Ch 8

The Range Rover braked to a halt in front of No 13, Cameron Beeches at 5 in the evening. The sun was just about to set, and No 13 stood sheathed in silence. There was a knock on the door.

A short, bald man with a beard opened it and smiled with an air of care, but etchings of anxiety were, nonetheless, visible on it. ‘Ah! Pat, my boy! So good you arrived!’

‘Greetings, Uncle James. This is my friend and acquaintance, Ralph White.’ I leaned forward and whispered, ‘his brother was wrongly hanged.’

‘Nice to meet you, Mr White. My brother shared a fate similar to your brother’s. My nephew must have told you that?’

‘That’s how we met, Mr Calverton. In fact, we were on our way to Madrid when you called. We were looking forward to meeting you. However, we are grateful to solve your problem first.’

All of us entered the house and took our seat on the sofa.

Uncle James spoke. ‘This morning, I was chilling out in my bed and having a cup of tea, when I heard a muffled scream. It seemed trivial and unreal when I heard it for the first time, but when it recurred, I strode outside into the garden and found… I found a dead body.

‘I was shocked, so I started off to do a bit of investigation. My bench was in a shattered state. One plank of the bench was kept just beside the dead body. On looking closer, I sensed and smelled blood on it. This made me look at the dead man. He had died with his head smashed in (pity, I tell you). So, of course, the obvious assumption was that he had been murdered by this plank of my bench.

‘I looked around in the bushes, hoping to find some evidence. I found out some queer footprints, which on closer observation turned out to be those made by heels. This clarified that the murderer was a woman. The matter was growing more and more serious, while I was growing rather tense.

‘I started walking to the police station, hoping to find a taxi in the way. To my surprise, a taxi voluntarily stopped in front of me. I was in a hurry, and I had to get inside. Maybe it was a coincidence, but surprisingly again, the driver was a woman. My eyes hovered over her seat.

‘You know what I found? She was barefoot. It was pretty obvious. Isn’t it difficult to drive in heels? She had no other option than to remove them. This was the same woman. I wish I had deduced these details beforehand; I wouldn’t have let her go. However, the situation was so tense then that I even forgot to note down the number of the taxi.

‘So till here, it has become clear that someone has been following me.’

‘I am awed at your deduction skills, Uncle.’

‘Forty five years as a judge made me get acquainted with the functioning of criminals and detectives alike. 

This was the benefit. Anyways, what made you come here other than to protect me?’

‘Well, Uncle, I wanted to talk about my father.’

‘I knew one day you’ll wonder about it, Pat. Then I must tell you. Your father, my brother, Joseph Calverton, was murdered.’

A Scandal of Sorts - Ch 7

‘Who gets to breathe such clean, fresh, pollution-free air in the busy streets of industrial London?’

The road to Madrid was paradise. As much as it was a mission for us two men to fulfill, it showed itself as a holiday. The air renewed our tired lungs and the blowing air whispered in our ears and massaged our skulls. It was a refreshing journey.

However, the tension still inhabited the air, causing our faces to turn around intermittently to spot any person who might be following us. 

I was the driver and was enjoying driving the amazing SUV while the task of keeping a watch was assigned to my friend. There was a constant smile on my face throughout, which was quite the opposite of the expression which adorned Ralph’s face.

Ralph’s hand flew to the back of his neck, slowly pressing it. His mouth was making aah and ooh sounds while his pain was relieved.

‘Don’t forget to look backwards, forwards, sideways, in all directions!’ I warned.

‘If you think this is so easy a work, Mr Patrick Calverton, you should do it yourself. It’s actually a pain in the neck.’

‘Whatever.’

‘Oh yeah? Stop the car. I’m driving. I bet you should experience what I was doing the past few hours.’

In the next few hours I found myself trying to find an excuse so that I could get myself out of the position of constantly turning my neck to look for a culprit. Fortunately, my non-attentiveness did bring fruit.

I was looking around myself for an object which might give me an inspiration for inventing a believable excuse. Scanning the interior of the car carefully, I caught my reflection in a small circular lens hidden behind the rear-view mirror. I came to my senses.

‘Aha!’, I shouted. ‘Until now we have been getting that neck pain for absolutely no reason, there’s no reason to look behind. Here the culprit is hidden in front of us. Presenting… a spy camera!’

‘Search! There may be more.’

He stopped the car and we looked around, but failed to find another. We had no option other than continuing our journey.

‘Now, Pat, not a moment to lose! Remove the camera and throw it outside!’

I made a face in front of the minuscule camera and finally threw it into a pile of dog poop.

After a couple of minutes, the ringing phone interrupted my amusement. I slowly received the phone, squeaking, ‘Hello?’

A frantic voice spoke on the other side. ‘Pat, my dear! I’m your Uncle here. I think someone’s following me, I feel a bit in danger. I need you, my boy. Arrive here as fast as you can!’

The car raced on at an increased speed of hundred and twenty kilometres an hour.

A Scandal of Sorts - Ch 6

I opened my eyes the next morning with my mind completely occupied with the memory of yesterday’s incident. How and why were such fishy things happening all at once? Firstly, the face of the taxi driver was extremely familiar. Secondly, the taxi was a stolen one, although it had been returned to its previous owner. The water in which the fish was swimming was very obscure, indeed.

So, naturally, I decided to ask Ralph regarding his views.

‘Hey, Ralph, remember the taxi which drove us here yesterday?’

‘Yeah, I guess. Why?’

‘Did you see the face of the driver? Wasn't it a bit seen-before types?’

‘Why, of course not, Pat. Where had you seen him before?’

‘In the last taxi-‘ I stopped mid-sentence, realizing where I had seen that face before - I hadn't even met Ralph when I took the taxi from my house to the theatre, and that’s where the man appeared for the first time. The blood drops on the dashboard were as clear in my memory as fresh water. Divulging the details to Ralph, including those of my encounter with the owner of the taxi the previous day, I asked what he could make of it.

‘Well, one thing, Pat, you have to make sure you aren’t getting hallucinations or something, ‘cause this is like drama in real life. You have given me a very good idea for a play.’

‘I can assure you that these happenings are as real as me. Are we in danger, Ralph?’

‘I don’t know, Pat. All these things are so curious that the result can be stranger than ever. Who knows? We may even die. However, I think – ‘

‘Yes? What do you think?’

‘Calm down, boy. I think that someone may be following us, or maybe you. If you saw this person twice in different taxis, he may have followed us all the way here, to Barcelona. Remember the footprints near the theatre?’

‘I think you’re right. We have to be cautious. Otherwise anything can happen.’ Pin-drop silence overtook the room after that. I was overwhelmed by a queer feeling. What would happen after this? Would we be able to succeed in our mission? Only time will tell.

‘It’s time!’ yelled Ralph.

‘What?’

‘Time we leave for Madrid. We have to reach your Uncle’s house before evening. Don’t want to wake him up at night, do we?’

‘Definitely not. If we’re too late, we might not be able to see if anyone’s following us, you know, because of the darkness.’

‘So come with me, Pat. Come outside.’

Outside, resided the coolest, shiniest, most adventurous of all vehicles – a Range Rover. ‘Ralph White, you are the best man I ever got the privilege of meeting.’

‘Let’s race on, then!’

A Scandal of Sorts - Ch 5

We walked out of the plane into the heat of Barcelona. A few minutes later, we had taken a taxi and were on our way to Hotel Gloria. I took out the Spanish dictionary from my bag and asked the driver in Spanish, ‘How much time to the hotel?’ The driver turned around. I had seen that face before. I skidded through my memory searching for the solution. Where had I seen him? The face looked familiar. Where?

‘Just a couple of minutes, sir, and you’re there.’

Before I could ask him where he was from, he halted the taxi in front of the hotel, and drove off really fast. Strange, I thought. Something wasn’t right. Did the taxi driver pick me up from the airport on purpose, so he could know my whereabouts? That is justified from the fact that he realized that I saw something familiar in his face and drove off before we could even pay the fare. Let’s get to the bottom of this, I thought.

The next morning, I rode to the taxi headquarters in the city and inquired about the taxi, whose number I had observed when the circumstances seemed curious to me. The manager there showed me the photograph of the taxi driver. Surprisingly enough, the man’s face differed from the one I had seen in the taxi. The taxi must have been stolen.

‘Did this man, the taxi driver, come to work today?’

‘He surely did. Why are you asking?’

‘Nothing. Did he come yesterday?’

‘No, mister, he was on leave.’

‘That explains a lot.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘I told you, nothing. I’m new here, you see. Just wanted to know how this system works.’

Before the man could ask another question, I walked out of the office. ‘Taxi!’ I called. I looked at the number. It was the same number which I had been inquiring about! I got into the taxi and told the driver, who wasn’t the one I had seen before, my destination, thinking, I will not lose this chance. ‘Did anything strange happen yesterday? With the taxi?’

‘Why, sir?’

‘Just answer.’

‘I don’t know if it was indeed, but yesterday evening I looked out the window and noticed that my taxi wasn’t there! It had vanished! I didn’t seem to notice it right then. Afterwards, I thought about it and looked at the driveway. It was there, safe and sound. Just a trick of the eyes, I guess.’

‘A trick of the eyes, don’t think so. But a trick? Yes, indeed.’

A Scandal of Sorts - Ch 4

After I heard the big news, we pushed through the crowd of people, entering the flight which would take us to our destination. On enquiring, I found that the ticket checking counter had already been visited by my friend, but one question was nagging me in the head.

After we had settled down, I asked, ’What is all this? Why aren’t we going to Madrid, to my uncle? And you, mister, constantly surprise me by the vivid dresses of yours!’

‘Alright, let me explain. Firstly, look at yourself. By Jove! Rain boots and gloves? Now, listen carefully, don’t interrupt. Yesterday, when I went round the alley to the other side, I spotted some fresh footmarks on the gravel. Extremely fresh, they were. A few metres away, a notepad and pencil had fallen down. I picked them up and looked at the notepad. Parts of our conversation were quoted in there. Someone had been following us and listening to our conversation. Question is why these articles were thrown on the road. Not thrown, they had fallen down. Apparently someone had heard me coming towards them, so they got tense and ran away in a hurry. I followed the footprints, but they ended where the man’s shoes had dried off, so that was of no use.

‘I thought about it in my mind and came to know that the man was facing your back. He mustn’t have seen you. But he saw me, that is confirmed. The person knows that we were to go to Madrid this morning, and he may be following us. I changed my disguise to prevent him from recognizing us. And the plan’s changed. It’s Barcelona, not Madrid. From there we will go to Madrid by a car I have already rented. Welcome in advance.’

‘You seem to have done quite a lot of good work. I’m okay with the plan. However, my friend, why the bright pink suit? Why this,’ I grabbed the hat in my hand, ‘awkward yellow hat? People will stare at us and laugh at your choices.’

‘If I cared for people’s opinions, Pat, I wouldn’t have been an actor in the first place. It’s our work. And here, an actor’s helping you.’

I regretted my previous thoughts when I had cursed the guys. ‘Actors are better than the rest,’ I sang aloud, ‘actors know best.’

Ralph laughed. ‘I hope it’s not meant to be sarcastic.’

The rest of our voyage was a quiet one. Ralph leaned back against the seat and snored with his mouth open. I had no idea what I was going to do during the rest of my journey. Maybe I should think about Spain. Who were these judges? Were they part of a criminal board that sentences innocent people to death? I shall know all in good time.

The flight made its landing, and I patted Ralph on his knee. He slowly opened his eyes, put on his hat, and shouted, ‘The game is on!’ All the passengers in the plane started and stared fixedly at us, trying to make us feel guilty.

‘What happened? Was it bad, or a good one?’

‘What, my dream? Well, I dreamed that the jailed people who were guiltless had suddenly turned to hulk and ripped the bars of the jail. Then there was some weird stuff about tribal dancing. Anyways, the game is on - for the man who has the most bizarre dreams in the whole wide world!’

A Scandal of Sorts - Ch 3

The man waited for a few minutes to let the suddenness of these activities sink inside me. Then he began in his cold voice.

‘So, now to the point. I wanted to sort this business out, due to the fact that no one loved Jake White more than me. I searched for men who had been declared guilty but did not give in even at the last moment of their life, compelled to feel the clutches of death along with the rope. Even the darkest of criminals tells the truth at this moment, but what about those who were innocent?’

‘Genius! Continue, please.’

‘Next I reviewed the judges who had passed the judgement. All of them had one thing in common – their Spanish names. This roused my suspicions. Now tell me, Mr Calverton, what criminal in the world is so careless that he would commit a crime leaving a number of simple evidences to follow? The motto was clear – the articles on the scene of the crime were fake. They were put in order to prove the people guilty. As soon as I finished this thought process of mine, I understood this was a case dealing with criminal nature. So I called upon another man who has suffered, like me.’

‘So what do we do now? Do you know anyone else who can help us with this?’

‘I do not know anyone else, but I know you, Mr Calverton, more than you do yourself.’

 ‘What do you mean, Mr White? How in the world can I possibly be of any help?’

‘Well, you know, I did some research work, reading about the families of London and facts related to them.  I put my finger on Calverton and found out to my delight that some far-away uncle of yours was a judge. That means he can help us.’

‘Now that you remind me of it, Mr White –‘

‘Call me Ralph.’

‘Yes, Ralph, now that you remind me of it, I come to see the point. I never thought about it, before I knew that criminal judge business. We’ll visit him first thing in the morning. The good thing is – he lives in Spain.’

‘I read about that in the journal.’

‘That could help us. My uncle may also have knowledge about the criminal activities going on there. Meet me at the airport. I’ll book the tickets for Madrid. And by the way, call me Pat, short for Patrick.’ I smiled at him.

‘See you tomorrow, Pat. For now, I have to act in this exciting dress of mine. The frock is quite comfortable, actually. You can fold and stretch your legs the way you want to quite easily, without the fear of a ripping sound any moment.’

We bid farewell to each other, laughing as we turned away. I walked down the opposite side of the alley from which I had entered, and returned to the front of the theatre. Then I called a cab, got inside, and rode all the way home, to Whitechapel Road. One thing was definite – my life was going to change.

A Scandal of Sorts - Ch 2

The coldness and seriousness of his voice surprised me. The fact that a man clad in a pink ballerina costume was showing such graveness in his conversation struck me as most ironical. I pointed to the bench which was earlier occupied by me, and we walked briskly over to the seat.

After an awkward silence, the man drew out some papers from behind his ear which had been tucked under his hairband. The situation seemed a bit humorous at first, but the papers were looking as if they belonged to the official lot (due to their small and boring font, I admit) that I remained quiet.

‘I believe you lost your father five years ago?’ The man took me by surprise as he spoke. ‘How do you know so much about me? That my name is Calverton?’

‘The reason is the same as why your father was wrongly sentenced to death. My brother shared his fate.’

I sat still for a moment, my body utterly motionless. This was someone who understood my problem, and the look of the papers in his hand suggested that he had some useful information. My mind flashed back to that moment of my life which the man was referring to…

‘All the evidences point in your direction, Mr Joseph Calverton. Your conviction is just.’

‘But you have to believe me! This is a plan, a plan to get me into jail! I’m innocent, for God’s sake!’

‘And what proof can you present before us to prove that? You are in a court. I am a judge, and my work is to be fair and just.’

‘Indeed.’

‘Your fingerprints, only yours, were found upon the knife that was used to commit the murder. The blood test proves that. The footprints found in the room matched with those of your rain boots, which is justified as a storm was raging outside. The victim was your landlord, to whom you couldn't pay the rent, being in such a tight situation as you were. So what better choice than to kill him?’

‘But, Judge, you have to understand! You have to let the guiltless out of a scandal!’

‘I hereby declare that death is the only punishment which can be given to sort out such criminals.’

As I came back to my senses, I realized that the man had been watching me. I took the courtesy of asking his name. ‘Ralph White, that’s my name.’ ‘So, what is this you hold in your hand, and why have you called upon me on such a night in such, well, err, clothing?’

The man laughed out loud, springing his head back and hitting his hands on the frock of his dress. ‘I wondered why you didn’t ask that yet. I’m an actor. Us actors are strange folk, Mr Calverton, which is evident from the fact that you are having the most important conversation of your life in an alley behind a theatre.’

The strangeness of the location of this meeting struck me, as I choked, ‘Most important – conversation – my life?’

A Scandal of Sorts - Ch 1

‘To prove once and for all what you gave voice to; meet me behind the theatre of La Broadwai at nine. There shall your fate be decided, and the deeds of vengeance be done.’

I folded the letter and kept it in the inside pocket of my coat. In front of me lay a big decision. Behind, I saw starvation, born from the hunger for revenge. This man could help me. But how did he know about me, my address, about the worm wriggling around in my mind? I need a Plan-B, something for backup.

Looking around me, I spotted my dead father’s walking stick. This can ensure safety. Tears came into my eyes as I looked upon the inscription. On the brass stick, in letters of gold, was engraved Joseph Calverton, Pale Leaf Towers, Mayfair. His last words, ‘I am innocent‘, were echoing around in my mind. The strong impulse of anger and despair made me move out of the house into the hustle-bustle of Whitechapel Road.

The theatre’s location was alien to me. I summoned a cab and asked the driver about it, who, to my utter good fortune, had worked there as a guard a couple of years ago. So far so good. As we drove, I noticed a few red drops upon the driver’s dashboard. I shooed the dangerous thought out of my mind. And yet it was particularly singular.

The driver stopped the cab in front of La Broadwai. I paid him and looked up at the theatre. It was a fair-sized building, and in front of it using colourful lights was written Clara Theatre Fest. A brisk walk around the building took me to an alley at its back, where I stood, waiting for the stranger. A glance at my wrist-watch told me it was quarter to nine. What shall I do for fifteen minutes? Twenty five yards away I spotted a discarded bench propped up against the wall. Trotting up to it, I sat down.

This quarter of an hour provided me with an advantage of studying my surroundings. The passage was a bit narrow, so that I felt a bit suffocated. In front of me were kept wooden boxes and crates on which I supported my legs. On both sides I saw the same scenery. The size of the alley gave me a reason to believe why the sender had called me here – he wanted to talk something private, possibly the thing which I was expecting all along.

The sound of footsteps alerted me and I sat up straight. At the edge of the alleyway I could see a man clad in a curious costume – a ballerina frock and a hairband with two popping balls on the top - walking towards me. His eyeballs were moving in all the directions, looking for the person who was scheduled to arrive at this moment. Trudging along the high walls of the theatre, I began to think how to address this person, given his attire, but before I could do so, he increased his pace and clasped my right hand, saying, ‘Glad to meet you, Mr Calverton. It’s time to look into the matter.’

A Scandal of Sorts - Forward

Time for my next short story novel - A Scandal of Sorts!

'A Scandal of Sorts' is my first attempt at writing crime stories. This story I'm going to present is an attempt at practicing and brushing up my writing skills. Although I wrote it last year, I certainly wanted to share it with all of you and read your reviews.

This short story novel comprises of ten chapters, kept a bit short so that you can read them in very less time and not feel bored. You are welcome to point out my mistakes in order for me to improve. Thanks!

The first chapter will be posted in a short while.

Happy Reading!

'Holi'days!

Howdy people! Exams are over for most of us (if not, don't worry, they will), and half of our time is spent thinking what to do in this break. Some prefer watching movies, but then you remember you have to finish that book, after which it strikes you that you haven't completed the one game you wanted to finish on your tab or anything.

When too much of fun fills up your schedule and swallows it whole and bites it with its sharp teeth, you feel a pang of guilt. Just that small pinch of an idea inside your brain where you hesitate that you should be studying a bit now. For whatever our parents tell us to do, we have to do it some time or the other. Otherwise, we have that feeling of guilt inside us. 

But why think about all this right now? Because in most cases, the end of the exams marks the onset of the Holi season. Great presence of mind is required in order to escape balloons thrown by some kids from their rooftops. However, if we fail... well, all of us know what it is like getting hit by a balloon.

But I think it's fun sometimes. Cold water is so refreshing! If you're so swelled up in need and in need of a good water bath, just come in the way of a balloon and get hit. (I would love to see the look on the shooters' faces. Hehe)

Just yesterday in the park, a few older kids were making fools of everyone. They showed us balloons, we ran away from there, but then they burst them and we realized... they weren't filled with water, they were air balloons. I wanted to hide my face after that.

If you want to have an account of how Holi is played, and relive those memories of this festival, you should view my cousin's blog. I felt nostalgic after reading this post, along with watering of my mouth! http://dailydelightavecmoi.blogspot.in/2014/03/holi.html

So let's jump back to the end of the exams. The thing with me is that I've given so many exams in my life that I'm kinda bored of them. Without much effort, good marks can be obtained. The Indian education system promotes mugging up and doesn't help us to think. Some good questions where we will be forced to think will oust my boredom.

From the beginning, the Indian education system has focussed on good marks. The students are pressurized for getting good marks, but has anyone asked them to study smartly so that their knowledge is increased? No.

When we ask a teacher something extra about anything, in most cases we get the reply, 'Beta, yeh exam mein nahin aayega, karne ki zaroorat nahin hai.'

('Child, this won't come in the exams, no need to do this topic.')

This leads to cheating, as most of the students want good marks. No one focusses on whether they're getting to know interesting information or not. Then they ask us why we're cheating.

Soooo, I'm bored.

Dumping this rebellious mood, let's inhibit a carefree attitude and have some fun in these holidays! Happy Holi and Happy Good Result!