( Dark room with dim white light coming from a
broken glass window)
Scattered clothes, metallic plates falling, old newspaper rustling,
and sound of rain drops beating on road outside. Lights are off and the air is chilly.
Wind whistled through the broken window pane now and then, I
was breathing heavily, and the sweat beads on my forehead were falling as I
shook with fear.
I was a strong man, Never before in my life I was scared
this much, i mean i had nightmares occasionally when i was a kid, but this
time, Oh no.. This is different...
After all who won’t be, when three cold blooded monsters
after putting a knife across your friend's gut are searching for you…
Addiction comes in all of those exciting flavors, Alcohol,
Drugs and even love. But for me it was different.
I was addicted to money.
Greed is a sweet talking bitch. And money is like opium. All
it takes is that first hit.
I searched for it everywhere. Every damn corner I could. My
hands are shivering, wet, from the sweat or blood, I didn’t know. All I care
right now is my goddamn mobile.
My throat was chocking, I needed water. I tried to loosen my
tie; my hands smelled of fresh blood, I took a deep breath, the air felt
chilled, moist and filled with panic.
I was still wearing my formal dress as it was Monday. What started as another perfect day at office
turned out to be the worst one. They
killed Mathew and I know I am going to be the next. He was my associate, actually more than a
partner, he was a good friend. Yes a good
friend and that’s what I used for my benefit, he was never interested in it.
Actually no one is. When the job is to lie and steal money from innocents.
But I was.
Money was my motivation and greed fueled me.
And did I mention, I was not that emotional type also, rigid
as rock, but look I have become weak tonight, and yes, tears are rolling down
my cheek. The world is feeling so empty around. I feel alone for the first
time. This darkness is unbearable. My heart is thumping and the cold air is bitting me. I frantically moved my arms around my messed up bedroom in
vain. At last, though being an atheist, I sat down, buried my head in my knees
and asked God for a second chance.
"We both are trying to find something isn’t it", that
familiar dark, hoarse voice pierced through my ears. It was Jason indeed.
I shivered from head to toe. I tried to raise my head to look up, but my
body refused. I expected the same knife
through my neck or a shell popped in my skull anytime. I was frozen. My words
were choked.
Two seconds passed. The longest two seconds of my life. And
just when I was about to look up, I felt a cold metal on my neck. Yes I guessed
it right. It indeed was a gun.
The gun was cold, and so was Mr Jason. Hell, I should have
known whom I was dealing with. Mathew had warned, but I dint listen. The more
the money involved the more stupid you become.
I don’t know why, but I missed my mother at that time. I don’t
know why but I felt my dad will come and rescue me. I wanted to apologize to my
sweetheart, the one whom I always hurt and yet take her for granted. I wished I
had found my phone and called her for the last time.
“ Here Mr. Smartass, Isn’t this what you were looking for? “
He held my mobile in one hand and the gun in another.
The phone beeped and it showed “ 22 missed calls” . As
always, i guess she must have tried to call me, always she does, but I never bothered to care, The same way as
I refused to listen to her, when she tried to bring me from wrong to right.
For the first time in my life I realized that
others can be right too. But it was too
late. I had lost my best friend, everything and was about to lose my life too.
Like I said, I was addicted to money, it destroyed me.
“ I run this place kid, since you first shitted in your
pants for the first time. You think you can steal from Jason ? F*cking egoistic
bastard”
I always considered Guilt to be our biggest enemy. When
guilt prevails it overpowers every other feeling. I felt guilty for the first
time. Mathew was dead because of me. He never wanted this bluff business in the
first place. He trusted me and my intelligence but I pushed it a little too
far.
I wanted to apologize to everyone.
To my parents for not growing into a man they expected me to
become,
to my girlfriend for taking her for granted,
and to Mathew, for leaving
him bleeding in the middle of road like a coward.
Jason shouted “this one is for messing with me, you prick “
and pointed the gun at my head. He already had found his money. And the last thing he needed on earth was me
being alive.
Like I said, Guilt overpowers all other feelings, it did the
same to my fear also. I yelled at him “ With pleasure ” and laughed at him like
a lunatic with tears in my eyes. I closed my eyes and everything stood still.
I heard Jason screaming at me and a loud thud.
I woke up from my
dream. It was my phone’s alarm ringtone with that hard rock ringtone ;)
It indeed is monday morning and a long week ahead. Phew.... But feels good to be alive :)
P.S.
B.T.W its all imaginary i never get these kind of dreams. :-P
Thursday, October 6, 2011
Tied hands and suffocating desires,
We stay hidden, but can’t hide our cries,
All your lies, wrapped in the promises of tomorrow,
Donate me the strength, to bear this sorrow.
This smile on your lips, enveloping the pain inside,
When you lay hand in hand by my side,
My eyes searching what you hide.
With child's curiosity, I tried to find.
I hear you say, the things i want to believe
Trying hard to understand the meaning it conceals.
Sometimes when the deal You make with life, becomes a one way street, And when you feel The energy left within, isn’t worth wasting to plead.
You get scared From the reminisce of the past, stripping your soul and tear, “My dear, This may be just the beginning of what lies for you right here” This voice you hear, Is it just the manifestation of all your remaining fear?
Change comes. Life gets harsh, like a bird with broken wings When the show is over, its part is done, The puppet sleeps alone with its ruined strings You search, but there is none Disappeared is the one, whom you called friend.
But when you keep walking on that forgotten street Bending its way rising on the mountain, you can’t retreat, It gets sweet When you reach the top and its calm and serene. And you find Every drop of tear dried, Every bit of fear flied, And all the darkest endless pains encountered in the way By the deepest, bluest sea of hope, it’s been washed away.
Life unfolds. Present starts consuming what the future holds What exists today, will become memories untold And when you look down the road, You tell yourself, gazing modestly at the endless shore, “It was all worth it, I will rise from the ashes Of the past burnt down, future awaits me with open arms!” Armed by the faith, your conscience does all the talking. You get up, brush up your pants, and start walking…!
"What is wrong if I continue driving it with supports attached...it’s easy and its safe too.." Said he, looking behind at his father. It was late spring time with warm air making the atmosphere blissful. The sun was setting behind the crimson horizon just like an artist’s imagination. And Binni, who just got his first bicycle, drove around in the park cycling on the concrete pathway. His father looked on as he sat on a bench , his eyes rolling in circles. The park, with kids playing and running, people walking, elders talking about their past, send him into a reverie about his own childhood, the promise he had made to himself about giving all the happiness to his son, which he himself couldn’t get. A satisfied and preening smile lit his face. Everyone seemed happy. He sat there wondering how different the place looked in winter when everything was covered in white and wished that things remain the way they were. He started painting his future on the canvas of his thoughts.
It was getting dark. The red colored horizon was no longer there. Just a bleak outline of the hill covered with snow and pines. The lamps were lit up. Soon everyone started getting up. And the place which was overflowing with so much noise and casual sounds was now getting calm. And suddenly a hand on his shoulder pulled him back into the real world.
” You aint gonna sit here, are you?”asked an old, trembling voice of Rehman Chacha, who looked older than what he was.
” Its already quarter to 7 “.
“ Seven ! How could I forget the time. Had I been sitting here so long?” He thought to himself and called his son.
” Lets go home dear, it’s time now”.
“Can’t we stay here a little longer?” asked Binni who came panting, with clothes covered in dust.
“No,my dear child. You know things are not the same. We must hurry”.
Yes, things had changed. The civilians had to be in their homes by seven. Rajouri, the beautiful little town near the LOC was under regular curfew at nights. Nobody but the army was allowed to move aound at nights. Heavy infiltration from across the border has rendered this place deserted. The city, which once used to wake up with the sounds of aazan and bhajans, was now getting accustomed to the sounds of gunshots.
As they moved along to their home, which was a couple of blocks away, Binny raised the same question again.
”Daddy why do you always tell me to learn cycle without supports, wont I fall down? And also its easier to drive with supports on…”
‘Don’t you know that?” he added in a childish tone.
His father just smiled and when they reached the porch of their home, Binny parked the cycle with a great pride as if it were a prized motorbike. Then his father sat on the stairs and called his son,” Come here my boy, sit”
Binny came and sat near him and leaned onto his lap, his tiny eyes looking at him directly in the eye, shining with a mixed light of curiosity and astonishment.
“ Listen my boy, What about a story?”
Binny said nothing, just blinked.
“ It’s about a tree. An apple tree”.
“There he goes again, I just asked a simple question, what is the need of a story here?”, he asked himself looking outside the trees and figuring which one his father was talking about. There were many.
“ Its about a little tree which bore fruits for the first time and was very happy”, continued his father.
“But during late winters ,when the apples were all ripe, wind stated to blow and that tiny tree found it harder to resist the wind and the fruits started falling down. An old tree nearby watching the tiny one struggling told him “That’s how its meant to be. Everything is pre-determined by God. There are some who can’t reach up here to get the fruits. Nature takes care of everyone. It’s her way to make sure that everyone gets his share. Some have to pluck it from the tree and some get it from the ground”
Binny gave a confused look to his father and hoped he should not have asked him that question.
“ In the same way humans are supposed to pluck the apples by getting on the tree, although you can just lie there waiting for them to fall but that’s not what He expects from us. The wind may not always be there but if you know how to climb a tree, you will never be hungry. Everything in this world has some rules which we must always follow…”
Binny was getting reckless. He felt like he would explode if he would stand there for another second. “How terrible is it to listen to lectures by parents, especially those which we don’t understand”, he said to himself and prayed that someone would get him out of here ( He couldn’tjust get up and move from there, not because he lacked courage but he was particular not to disobey his father ). But he just wanted to be free. Always.
“There you both are” came a voice from the inside. ”I was so worried. Where have you been? Its almost seven!”. The voice came as a rescue for Binny. He felt like a thirsty traveler in Sahara who had just found a oasis. After all that’s how mothers are. They somehow know when their children need them.
“ Mummy”, said Binny running and hugged her.
“ Daddy was telling me a story.”, said he winking.
His mother just glanced at his father and smiled and said, ”Dinner is ready Binny, go wash your face and get ready.”
Like all the other days, there was no electricity. Due to heavy shedding in the area after military was set up, common people led a miserable life. But nobody complained. They understood that military surveillance was more necessary than watching TV at homes.
The three of them gathered at the dining table. Theirs was a small family. Binny’s grandfather died when his father was fifteen. From that day his father had to start working to earn bread for his mother, who was bed ridden due to severe arthiritis. She was his only family left and after switching jobs from places to place he was finally able to open a shop. Things were not easy for them at that time. But gradually the situation got better and now he owned a well established business of dry fruit trade until terrorism shattered everything.
“ O.K everyone, Lets have a candle light dinner tonight.” Said his father rubbing his hands together as his mother lit the candles. Binny bore a desolated smile on his lips which was as empty as the roads outside . His little brain was mature enough to know what his father meant. He understood why they had to eat like that, but never complained. There was a strange silence everywhere that he could feel his own heart pumping . Nothing was visible except the table and faces of his parents which shone in the flickering light of the candle giving them a ghostly appearance. From the half opened window, he could see army men sitting around a bonfire on the top of the hill. Although it was spring but the nights were still cold. His heart longed for a day when everything would be back on track, he could play late in the evening, go to school regularly, the family could watch television sitting together and no more annoying sounds of shelling were there to make his heart go cold. He wanted to free himself from where he was living, and to run away to a far far place where there were no restrictions, where he could free himself from the invisible cage which he felt all around him. His heart grew sad. That cold and dark silence somewhat felt deafening to his ears. Even though they were doing the same stuff for about a month now, yet there was something strange about this night. The loneliness he felt tonight was intolerable. It was the darkest night he had seen ever, the most quiet one which crept so slowly that day seemed so far away. His mother served him with the same wheat porridge which they were having from the past few days. Due to the curfew there was scarcity of food everywhere. People cooked whatever they could get. He sat there looking down at the plate. A tear rolled down his left eye, but his lips were closed tightly. His mother was the first one to notice. She immediately took him in her arms and hugged him tightly, holding her own tears, sobbing. How could a mother see her child in such a condition. But the warmth of her embrace melted the barrier which had held Binny’s tears inside his eyes. All of a sudden he broke into tears.
“Ma! When will we have a something else to eat?” he asked sobbing so heavily that the words seemed too reluctant to come out.
“ I don’t want to live like this anymore, I want to be free”
Nobody knew the answer.
Her mother’s throat was choked with sorrow. She tried to speak but the words took the shape of tears and she couldn’t take the pain anymore. Her threshold was crossed and she started crying, embracing him even more tightly. His father, putting his arms around them, said In a heavy and wet voice “The day will come my Son. Someday you will be FREE”
Bang!
There was a sound of gunshot. Not just any other gunshot but this one seemed to be coming from the nearby home, so loud that it pierced through everyone’s ears. And there was another one. This time the bullet shattered through the window pane and hit the bottom of the clock hanging on the wall. The clock fell down crashing into pieces. The time stopped just like the hands of the clock. For a few seconds nobody could figure out what was happening. The cries of children and women filled the air. His father got up swiftly, moved both of them to the other side of table. The utensils fell making a metallic sound which sounded far more pleasant than the gunshots. Mother and Son stood there motionless and speechless. Even if they wanted to run or scream, they couldn’t. The fear left them frozen. His father rushed and pushed them under the bed. In military drills people were told to move under beds in case of firing. They stayed there, cramped under the bed. The noise was deafening. They could even hear the footsteps of military boots running on the cemented streets. Everything seemed so unreal and yet so true. Binni turned his head towards the window and could see flashes and sparks synchronized with the sounds of bullets being fired. This seemed so different from the ones in the movies. Not knowing what to do, he held his father’s hand with all his might so tightly that he felt if he loosens his grip, he will be lost forever. The firing grew heavy with more bullets entering their home. With every bullet striking the wall he could feel cement and sand from the wall falling on his hairs. This time he really wanted to run away. All his past came dancing in front of his eyes. The more tightly he closed his eyes the more scarier it got.
It continued for another fifteen minutes but those few minutes were like few decades for him. Then suddenly there was a big bang with so much light entering form the window that they were blinded momentarily. The home across the window was on fire. His timid green eyes, half shut with fear, shone brightly and the flames were clearly visible in them. The flames grew higher and brighter just like their fear.
But the gunshots became less frequent and ultimately their sound died in the silence that followed. Now only the sound of flames roaring and people crying was there. Slowly everything calmed and settled. The family felt a little relief but nobody moved. Everything seemed over. Father turnedBinny’s head and looked directly in his eyes. He could see the fear gushing in his eyes. He took his head in his hands and kissed him on his forehead and hugged him and said,” look I tell you nothing will harm you, as long as I am there”. He sounded more confident than he was.
Suddenly there was a sound of loud thumping on the door. Probably with the gun’s butt. It was a routine to check every house after an encounter by the military personnel for checking if more terrorists were still hiding in the area. His father released his hand from Binny’s and went to open the door. Binny moved towards her mother who lay unconscious due to trauma. He could see his father’s feet moving towards the door. His father was limping and blood was oozing from his knee. He was shot. The door cracked opened. A hand dragged him outside. From the shadows formed due to the light coming from the door, he could see his father being dragged out. He wanted to scream. But couldn’t. That was the last time he saw his father.
11 years passed. They were still living in a refugee camp they joined at Jammu, after his father was taken by the terrorists and later killed. His mother never wanted to return. Even though he was FREE now, the invisible cage around him had disappeared; but this was not what he wanted. Deep in his heart he missed the evenings with his father and his worldly advices.
He felt like a prey in eagle’s claw who struggled to free himself but succeeded only after it reached 700 feet above the ground.
