Meghalaya

She tossed and turned in her bed, unable to get even a wink of sleep. Insomnia had got the better of her despite all the rigorous meditations and sleep therapies she went through. The antique mantel clock on her bedside table showed three twenty in the morning. Suddenly the mobile phone rang slicing the silence of the night. As she sat up startled and picked it up from the bedside table, the screen glowed in the dark - "unknown number."

Her sleepless night kept her inquisitive, but she wondered whether to take the call. While she thought about it, the call dropped. She sighed. It had emotions both inquisitive and investigative. She wanted to scold herself for not picking up the call when it rang again. The number seemed to be the same one from the last missed call. She quickly responded to the call. “Hello?” “Aha! Many happy returns of the day Megha! I wanted to be the first one to call you. Am I?”

Megha sat silent for a while. Is it her birthday today? No one has wished her for years, and she tends to forget quite a few things these days. Date of birth is one of them, but it came back to her that there was a time when she was wished at midnight by a particular person who actually woke her up to wish her. Back then a midnight wish was not an accepted style, which made him a man with a difference. A difference that was not appreciated. Was it this day? She wanted to search for a calendar, which she could not find, so she decided to try this the other way. “Who is calling? And what date and time is it?” “Ah! I had thought you would recognise my voice, but I see you don’t. No worries, I’m Alay. It's going to be 31st August shortly, and I wanted to wish you at midnight, like always. Sorry, I am a few minutes early, because I didn’t want to be late. You do remember me, don’t you?” “Alay, yes I do remember you. You did give me a reason to not forget you or your name. And thank you for reminding me the date. But it's not a few minutes that you’re early. You’re late by hours! What made you call me so late? Is this your new style?” “What do you mean? It's just about midnight here. Aha! Silly of me. It's almost midnight here, but it should be around half past three at your end! I’m so sorry Megha, I didn’t realise this. I’m used to following my own watch as I do not need any other watch to follow. I’m so sorry I woke you up! Please forgive me.” “Alay, what watch are you talking about? And where are you, where it is midnight now? And no, you didn’t wake me up, thanks for reminding me that!” “I’m in Kyiv, don’t you remember? I had shifted after graduation to pursue my career in photography. I had told that to you I remember, just before leaving. But I'm so sorry I didn’t wish you for almost 10 years now! My career kept me so busy that I lost touch with so many people, including family and friends. And you.” “Alay, just to let you know, no one has wished me in the last 10 years now that I remember. And apart from my parents, who have passed on to a merrier life, no one wished me on my birthday, apart from you who did it criminally by waking me up at midnight! And today you didn’t even do that! I’m sorry to say, but I missed that feeling. But thank you for your wish!” “What do you mean, I didn’t wake you up? Were you awake? Are you working night shifts? How are you, my dear?” “I’m fine, thank you. I wish I was working night shifts. I wish I was working at all. But I’ve not been working for almost two years now. I’ve given up working because the ramp industry didn’t find me attractive anymore, at least for their profit lines. Thankfully, my investments and advertising deals have kept me going, but I don’t know what to do for the whole day! Sometimes I do have to go for a few photo shoots, but even that is not going right, because according to the lensmen I need to make a lot of changes to my face and…. Anyway, why am I even talking about myself? What about you? What are you up to these days, and what about your family? I mean, I hope you are already married?” “Megha, it seems you aren't what you loved to be like, take care of your health and looks, by avoiding junk food and late nights, by maintaining discipline of life….” “Alay, all that changed with my industry. I loved being healthy, happy, and good looking because I wanted to be a model. But when I got into the industry and started living its life, I realised that these are all temporary and never stays on forever! Time changes, as does feelings of health, happiness, and looks. And work pressure makes people do things that they once did not like doing. I had to eat whatever came across my hands at one point in time, just to save time and be fed. Anyway, how's your photography going on? Good models you are shooting?” “Megha, I did start with portrait photography, but soon realised that there are more living things to shoot than humans alone. The geography of Ukraine, Crimean and Carpathian Mountains, fertile soil, tropical weather, and variety of diversity here made me pursue natural photography, which I have been doing for five years now. Humans didn’t seem to respect me being behind the camera and wanted me everywhere else. Nor did they thank or appreciate my work. Nature on the other hand doesn’t have a human voice, but talks to my heart and soul, and wants to be with her all the time. But I would like to click you too, something I always wanted, and you never let me do. Now that you are free, can we try, and see?” “I’m not clickable anymore. I haven’t been sleeping well for some time now. I don’t know if you’d like to see me or shoot me. But you didn’t answer the question I asked about your family, Alay.” “Megha, I can’t tell you why, but I don’t have a family, as in I have not married. I’m not a person to maintain a discipline and keep moving around in the country as my dreams call me. I don’t think I could bring up and build faith in a family in this way.” “I think I know why didn’t marry, Alay. Because I didn’t ever let you click me, take me out for a cup of coffee, or to a movie, and hated your midnight calls because it woke me up from my beauty sleep? But don’t worry, things aren't always the way they look like, feel like, or act like. Everything I wanted in this life, have come to me, and have left me, and what I didn't want has stayed away from me, but never attempted to come to me. Am I not blessed?” “Megha, I shall see you this weekend. Will you please have a cup of coffee with me? We could go for a movie, though I would want to watch a Bollywood movie rather than your Hollywood ones. And then would you please let me click you? It's been years since I clicked humans, and I would love to break that rule with you.” “Please don’t tell me you’re coming to India to spend that time with me alone, Alay, are you seriously sure?” “I’m serious, Megha. I would love to spend some time with you. Now I don’t want to keep you awake at such an odd hour. I shall call you later this evening, India time I mean. Please do take my call. Wish you a good night and sweet dreams, Megha.” “Alay, good night and sweet dreams to you too. Thank you for calling and wishing for me. Do take care of your health, and I look forward to meeting you.”

She finished the call and jumped into her bed, clasped her pillow, closed her eyes, and went into the world of unseen dreams. Therapies and meditation would no longer be needed to tuck her to bed anymore. A dream never dreamt of was about to come true. Better late than never.

 

Dark

I wish i could stop wishing. there seems to be just no end to it. wishes make me vulnerable. wishes make me weak. wishes tell me i had not done things properly and someone else was in control of my life. but it not so. i believe. i believe in my sanity and reasoning. i believe what i did when i did was what was required to be done then. regrets - i seldom have. the lesser the regrets the lesser the wishes. when i portrayed what i was to who i wanted to, i wanted them to take me as i am. i am a packaged deal, take it or leave it. i do what i think i can do best and what is worthy of doing. i dont think if others mind my words or actions. for those who matter dont mind and those who mind dont matter. i believe in sins as much as i believe in goodness. for without the one the other is meaningless. i believe life is binary - zeroes and ones. if one exists the other has to. chose which one you want to be, but can not deny or disbelieve the other. i am zero, i am nemo, i am just another side of the coin - the dark side of the moon, the base of the lamp. i am darkness. but without darkness you just can not appreciate light. i do not appreciate light. i can not appreciate light. it makes a person a hypocrite. there is no gurantee that light is good. light kills. light kills innocent animals. the sun will kill anything that approaches it. light comes from fire and fire burns. darkness doesnt burn. darkness doesnt kill. darkness gives new life. like within an egg. darkness brings out light. like developing a negative. i am dark. and i am bloody happy about it.like me? good. not so? deal with it - its your problem.

Soumya

She tossed and turned in her bed, unable to get even a wink of sleep. Insomnia had got the better of her despite all the rigorous meditations and sleep therapies she went through. The antique mantel clock on her bedside table showed three twenty in the morning. Suddenly the mobile phone rang slicing the silence of the night. As she sat up startled and picked it up from the bedside table, the screen glowed in the dark - "unknown number."

Her mind fought with her intention to take the call, and her intuition saying it may not be the right thing to do. Her insomniac infatuation for inviting incoherent responses finally made her answer the call. “Hello.” “Hello, this is Soumya from Lone-Lay Finance and I am calling you to ask if you are interested in a pre-approved loan offered by our bank. Are you interested, madam?” “Are you serious? Calling me 3 am in the morning to offer me a loan?” “You must be confused, madam. It is 3 pm afternoon. Is this a good time to talk?”

She was confused and looked at her mantel clock. It did read 3:20, but it didn’t suggest whether it was late night. Her heavy curtains were all pulled, and she could not see outside to understand the time of day it really was. “Are you sure it is afternoon? How can you say so?” “Madam, I am in the middle of my work hours and I can guarantee you this is afternoon. Would you like to proceed with the offer?” “OK. I am interested. Tell me how much you are offering?” “Madam, it depends. Could you please share your last three salary slips and bank statement for last three months so that I can offer the amount to you?” “Bank statement, yes, but sorry, I cannot share any salary slip, because I have not been employed for some while now and could really do with the loan!” “You are not employed, and you are asking for loan? How can I offer you an amount then? How do you plan to repay your loan amount?” “Firstly, there is no amount you have offered, and secondly, why would I tell you how I plan to repay, as long as you get repaid?” “I am sorry madam, but I cannot offer you a loan. I thank you for your time. Please have a good day.” Soumya said that and hung up. His job role was very demanding, and he was used to hearing curses and bad behaviour, but this was something new. And it did not lead to a sale anyway. He still had a long day and a large target to pursue. So, he continued with his phone calls. She, on the other hand, was standing by now, shocked and confused. 3:20 pm? How could it be? She slightly moved the curtain and saw the bright hot Sun, offering life and business to the world she belonged to. She sighed and pulled the curtain back to how it was, sat down on her settee and started thinking. Her insomnia and lack of work had confused her thoroughly and had confused her concept and understanding of time. She knew not what was happening around her and bothered not to as well. Her food came by clockwork, but she didn’t bother whether it was breakfast, lunch, tea, and dinner, or the other way around, when she ate her food. This man had brought some relativity back to her life she could now know what was with respect to what else. But why did he not offer the loan that she thought she needed? She owned a palatial house and could sell it for a lot of money, but she needed some cash in hand or in her account to do it. She thought she should call him and tell him in detail. But in the mean time the evening tea arrived, and she had it. She scolded her nurse that she was not kept informed what time of the day it was. The nurse apologised and said she didn’t like disappointing her because she didn’t like being talked to. She was only doing her job and would be happy to help. “Help me by getting out and don’t be back tonight!”, she said. She kept staring at the wall and kept thinking about the past that she could not remember, that caused her to be like this. Where were her parents? What happened to her job? What job was it? Was she good at it? Why does she not go around the house and take care of the furniture and upholstery by herself? Should her house not be clean? How many maids used to be there and how many are there now? Who pays the nurse? She kept looking for answers that she couldn’t find, but one thing was certain for her; she needed money, and she wanted to call Soumya to see if he could arrange for some. So, she picked up her phone and dialled the number she had last received the call from. “Hello! This is Soumya. How can I help you?” “Soumya, its me, remember, we spoke at 3:20 pm today? You had offered me a loan first, and then said I was not eligible for it? Well you see, I own a big house, and I was wondering if you could offer me some loan based on that?” “Madam, I definitely remember you now. But I am sorry, I belong to the personal loan department, but what you are looking for is something else that I cannot help you with. But I could try tomorrow morning. Please excuse me, but it is very late in the night, and I need to wake up early so I can start working. Could you please leave the call?” “Late at night? What time is it?” “Madam, its almost 10 pm!” She wondered why she did not get her food yet though she realised she wasn’t hungry. Then she remembered she had asked the nurse to not come again. “Oh! I am sorry to keep you engaged. What time is your office tomorrow morning? I could help you by waking you up, because I don’t sleep.” “Madam, I have not heard of people who do not sleep. I need to wake up at 6 in the morning, and I have an alarm. Not that I always manage to respond to it on time, because I am more used to incoming and outgoing ringtones. But I do not need your help madam. Good night.” She heard him disconnect her call. She needed the money and the man had told her he could help her tomorrow morning. But what if he missed his alarm? Soumya was too important for her at this point in time, so she set the alarm in her clock. Then she put it on the table, thought about the important work she had in the morning, to wake Soumya up. She must take rest so that she is awake on time to do this! She must get some sleep, some rest!. She turned off the lights and went to bed. She slept after a long time. And it was not due to meditations and therapies. It was because she had found a reason to work, and hence a reason to rest. Soumya had planted a seed in her mind, that she should feel important herself, if she thought others to be so. In her dreams she remembered that her parents were there in her big house, waiting for her to return cured of her disease, which had put her in a home rather than a hospital. She didn’t need to call Soumya at all, because her parents had a lot of money. But Soumya would need her to call him, because otherwise he may miss the alarm and miss his job. She didn’t want him to miss out on a happy life. And she dreamed to be a part of his happiness. She slept like a baby, but woke up with the alarm, to begin a new day.

 

Mortality

The thermometer read 104 degrees Fahrenheit. A touch of concern, for a twenty year old. But to his mother it was a state of panic. She had always protected her son from every turmoil, every problem. She had shielded him from the world outside, and his slightest sneeze would be enough to have her running around for medicines and doctors. Mrityunjay had never for once lived without his mother. He had never gone to hostel, and in fact he had never set foot outside Calcutta in all his twenty years. He was born and brought up in his quaint north Calcutta house, studied in the school just 10 feet away, and ran to college at the other end of the lake behind his house. A 4-square kilometre of under-privileged urban Calcutta was what he knew as the big bad world. Mrityunjay was a man with a rare talent - he could read minds. He could look into the eyes of any man and tell what the man had in his mind. He didn’t really practice it on men, though - the effect seemed to be better if the subject was a woman, and even better still if she was young and pretty. Of course, he did pick up the odd bet with his friends and confront an arbitrary man on a dull Sunday afternoon by the lake, and bewilder him by announcing the man was contemplating suicide as he recently lost his job and had a family of 7 to support. Well, this incident actually happened to be the last time he tried the trick, and this revelation had led him into almost 7 years of depression. On coming out of it, he merely kept his talent as a hobby to attract and woo pretty ladies. He had once fallen in love with the prettiest girl in all college - after he had looked in her eyes and revealed the girl was thinking of slapping him! The girl obviously got very embarrassed, but nevertheless she reserved a small awe for his amazing talent. To the class he was known as ‘Mental’, as many thought his was clearly a case of mental instability rather than a gift. His mother, ironically, knew nothing about it. She would have known, had he told her he had seen the extra-marital affair in his father’s eyes - and his intentions of dumping them and going off to Delhi with another woman. Maybe his father did leave them after all because he was too afraid to tell this to anybody. He had thought about this all his life; two incidents, both truth, but one when told caused agony while the other, when not told, caused the same. He was in a dilemma as to which path to take. His seven years of depression was a battleground of thoughts for him, the fight between what to and what not to, the realisation of whether what he possessed was a gift or a curse. He had, for a while, decided to say only pleasant things that he saw, while keep the bad things to himself. But that did not hold out to be a good argument - his father’s motive was unpleasant, but had to be told, and he hadn’t. He remembered what Death had said to Nachiketa - “The good is one thing, the pleasant another; these two, having different objects, chain a man. It is well with him who clings to the good; he who chooses the pleasant, misses the end”Soaking with sweat, his body burning and head splitting, he was pondering over the same thought. Was it good, or the pleasant? Did mother need to know? He had fumbled with his decision on many occasions, and he was fumbling rather bad on this one. Mother was trying to put damp swabs on his forehead to reduce the temperature. “Mother,” he started mumbling, “I saw it in the doctor’s eyes today”...

Dream

A most vicious dream. Dreams are worthless. They are not worth a wink. The worst with a nightmare is that it seldom is a nightly activity. A nightmare could happen two in the afternoon on a hot dry day when you are driving down a bouncy highway. Like it happened with me. Two seconds back. It wasnt a bad dream to start with, but as it progressed it just became uglier. It was like this beatiful mansion that turns haunted in a hundred years. Only its not hundred years in my case, more like an equivalent in seconds.

I come out of it in a flash and tighten my grip on the steering wheel. It has been fifteen hours of driving, with three stops, the shortest being thirty minutes and the longest being one hour, and zero minutes of sleep. Eight straight hours have so far been spent in driving alone. Well, not quite. A single song is playing on back to back for the past eight hours. By design. The song is now sounding more horrible than that hit, and its function has now reduced to making me irritated, hence keeping me awake.

I roll down the windows. A wave of heat hits my face. I know I need sleep. This is not acceptable on a national highway. You just can not drive drunk and awake for fifteen hours.

It had all started last night, when we, civilised and sober gentlemen, wanted to see the midnight Christmas mass in St. Paul's Cathedral. Till the midnight gongs we were indeed civilised and sober. And then the beginning of the worse.

I stop my car on the side of the road. There is a half open tea shop, half closed because of the heat and the lack of traffic. The sole person manning the shop is sleeping upright on a chair. I believe he is dreaming. A nightmare. I hope to relieve him of his misery, so I try to wake him up.

He was not dreaming; not aestivating; not even taking a nap. He senses my presence two feet away from him and asks what kind of tea I would prefer; his eyes still closed. I reply I need a big cup of tea, ohne Milch, ohne Zucker. And I most urgently need a khatiya. Lets see how long the man can continue to sleep upright. The man manages to fool me. With his eyes shut he barks two commands directed at two yet unseen people. The woman puts the kettle to boil and the man lays down my rustic bed. I fall on it. And pass out.

I wake up with a thousand stars hanging above me.

Have I lost the battle for survival, or have I lost myself?

Maybe I have just lost my way. But I have definitely lost my sleep, hangover, and tiredness. And I have lost my desire to pursue the unknown, unseen dream. I will now happily live the nightmare. And I will try to be happily alive.

I pay the man who helped me out, and walk towards my car. The journey begins again, destination unknown, but calling out loud. The song doesn’t change, the path doesn’t change, but the desire to continue does. Happy ending and good beginning.

Futile

She was my life, and she also happened to be a famous danseuse. We had known each other for a decade now. There were days when time wouldn’t move without us seeing each other, talking our hearts out and feeling each other in our arms. But unknown to both, time did move on, and so did we. The mediocrity of our lives had forced us both to leave home in search of the daily bread. Soon we were living in two distant parts of the country, the only ray of hope shining through the optical fibers of telephone lines. The occasional letters, albeit long and detailed, soon started disappearing as the monotony of the monstrous metropolis manifested the meanings of our lives. I started to dive deep down the dark dungeons of despair to drown the deepest desires of being with her.Soon as it was, I returned to my city as an engineer busy building bridges and boulevards. I also came to know she, by now, had her claim to fame by becoming a notable dancer of an eastern dance form. She was now busy touring the world, performing to please the spellbound spectators and critics alike. Her life now was framed in calendar. She had grown big, and busy. Too busy for me too, maybe? She had promised to meet me in our city two years back; I had come all the way to just catch her glimpse, but her silver sedan had sped past me, not even braking for a glance. Since then I haven’t seen or heard from her. Since then I have moved a step closer to lunacy every passing day. I have spent many a sleepless night and disdainful day yearning for her, wanting her, just the look of her at least. But she has remained as elusive as her correspondence address and telephone number.But today it was not to be. Today I knew for sure she would be back in the city. I knew the city she was coming from, the flight she was to take, the hour of her arrival and the route she would take to her next destination. Here I was, half past eleven at night, atop the foot over bridge, looking down at the road she was to take any minute now. My eyes frantically checked for signs of her sedan, the beam of whose headlight was to shine on me any moment now. It was an unusually empty road, and hardly a couple of cars had crossed this path in the last infinite hours of what seemed to be my wait. Was there a light in the distance? Was it that of a car? A sedan? Maybe even a silver one? It sure was! It was her! Speeding down the road. I had no time to climb down the bridge to intercept. The windows were closed and I couldn’t even shout out. What was I to do? Will He give me such a chance again? I jumped.The driver slowed down briefly and looked around to check for eye witnesses. There was blood on his windshield. The wiper could take care of that, though, with some water. The body had bounced off his bonnet and landed in a bush nearby, away from public sight. Chances of survival were out of question. What was he to do, after all? A hard day’s work, followed by a binge drinking session at a friend’s place and then a tiresome drunk drive back home. Even if he did report, who would believe a drunk driver claiming a man had literally fallen from the sky on top of his car? He had already decided to let this be a nightmare for the rest of his life and sped off. Nightmares in one’s own bed were better than those in a prison cell any given day!At the same time there was an announcement in the airport. All flights landing in the city that night had to be cancelled because of bad weather and foggy conditions. All arriving flights for that night have been delayed and are expected at least 24 hours late.

God giveth, God taketh away

The Good Lord giveth, the Good Lord taketh away. He gave me hope, deceit, chance, agony. He gave me lunacy, gave me illusions, of the cruellest nature. He held the passion fruit right in front of my nose and made me run miles to grab it, only to make it disappear after I ended up to the point of no return. He gave me visions – vicious and vile. He spun webs of despair. He made me grab poison disguised in the form of wine. And then he took it away. Right from my lips, he did. He took away with him the last remnants of joy. He gave malice – in copious proportions, and in return, he took my faith away from me.
He had promised the land of happiness – pure and true. But promises disappeared like raindrops down the gutter. He gave me smoke, he took away the fire within. He gave me courage; he took away morality. He gave me money, and he took it away before I could even measure how much it was worth.
The Good Lord giveth, the Good Lord taketh away. He gave the destination, took the map away. He gave the words, took the voice away. He gave beauty and He gave blindness.
He gave patience, took persistence away……
I see a light. It’s the high beam of a car – most probably an ambulance. I hear the screeching sirens – it is an ambulance. My thoughts of the Good Lord disappear into thin air – He has just given me the greatest thing on Earth – life. I hear the paramedics talking amongst themselves, their voices faint – “lucky Devil, he is – bullet grazed through and made no damage save the skin. Couple of inches inwards and he was a goner.” I try to sit up. I cant; I am strapped tight on a stretcher, ready to be carried away. some is trying to fit a mask around my mouth and I catch his eyes. “Oi! The fella’s back in his senses, mate”, he shouts to another. I try to recollect the immediate past. A silence, a shot, a dream. A phone call – where is my mobile? I try to look around – currently my whole body is immobile. I try to talk. Not a chance – the mask is pumping in volumes of oxygen down my throat and nose. The head feels lighter now – the mind starts to think better. I remember the last few seconds before losing consciousness – I was on the phone, at the other end of a stony silence. Who had called? The number hadn’t shown up, I remember. I was kind of sure she had called. Did she call back again? I must search my mobile for missed calls. But I cant find my mobile. I realise I am wrapped in a blanket, and my hands are numb and cant feel beyond the warmth of the blanket. The stretcher is still lying. I try to break away from what presently seems like shackles. Either the shackles are too tight or I am terribly weak. I think it’s the latter. I soon realise I am being carried towards the ambulance. I soon get loaded, the ambulance screams on as the driver puts a brick on top of the accelerator.
The traffic all around is slowing down for the VIP to pass by. We are jumping signals and taking wrong lanes and honking and hooting and screeching and speeding. Suddenly a familiar noise – my mobile is ringing again. My neck is too stiff to even turn and figure out where it is. I am just hoping one of the attendants pick it up. But both look reluctant. I know this call is important. I cant even tell them that. Life is being a bitch with me lately. The phone stops ringing. Pause. Starts ringing again. This time it has caught the attention of one of the buggers. He picks up the phone – the way he is talking now I know its just a one sided communication. Wait. He responded to an unknown question. Did he catch her voice then? What is she asking? What did he say? His voice is calm – bullet in the head – injured but alive – being transported to the hospital – the hospital is in – dead – I knew this would happen. Bloody me and my lethargy – at least thanks to the mobile it stayed alive three days without needing to be charged. But why do all things, living or otherwise, need to die at the wrong time? Just another word and things would have been so good. But the mobile wanted to die its death at the time decided by nature. God giveth connection, God taketh the battery away.