When I smoked my first smoke...

CC MM DD
When you are caught amidst this…


I whiff the first smoke of the day.


Period.


I feel like a scum.
At midday, I walk down the paseo of a busy street. I hold ‘Black’ between my fingers, taking a puff every second minute. I admire the rings aerating in the zephyr.
“That’s the freedom I need.” I say to myself.
I can maneuver my own path and vanish when I want. No soul will cognize where I am and probably, no one would bother to interrogate. Yes I desire no fame but destruction. A destruction of nothing else but self. I want to be a nonentity.


Wait…
Why would anyone bother, anyways? I’m just a scum.
“I loathe you.” “I loathe you.” Everybody passing by, I can hear them cry. I hear them say it loud and clear to me and I very well know what they mean.
I can read every banner saying, “You’re a fucking moron!!!”
Every ad guy on those big screens teases me. “Hey thicko!!! Where are you heading???”
“Thicko. Heads. Nowhere.” I say to myself.
I do not have any mission. I have no one. I got no purpose.
The only business proposal I could make got rejected. I’m an aspiring entrepreneur, I may chose to chic. Or, better suits – I was an aspiring entrepreneur. My dream is into shatters now. I got no money in the bank. I got no friend. I got no home to go.
All I have is this pack of smokes. I smoke these lil small sticks because they help me.
They aid me reduce my lungs to ashes till I toss the butt after the last whiff.


Last night, I was in some hotel Meridian, or whatever they call it. Some stars it has to its prefix, I don’t know how many though.
Room no. 408. I was being laid. He was doing me. We made whoopee almost every moment we were together. It was all that he needed. Hence, last night was no different.
Yet it turned out differently.
Not because I had the moxie but because I had no option. I had to take revenge. I wanted to avenge him. I had to do it. I wanted to do it.
I picked up the knife from the fruit basket and stabbed him in the back. A naked dead body on a naked, breathing heavily - me.
His blood gushed down my waist-line. The only time I remember seeing blood so closely is my menstrual blood.


What had I done?
Can I tell my friends, if I have any? “Hey dude, I just murdered someone I was fucking last night.”
I don’t have anything to vindicate myself but self proclamation. He promised me to approve my proposal for his bloody labor sucking MNC.
He was my only hope.
A hope to commence a new beginning. A good beginning.
His murder is nothing but a beginning of my end.


I’m a manslayer.
I’m a sinner.


I smoke a whiff. My second smoke for the day.


Period.


I pause amidst that crowded street and look around. Every eye stares into my eyes, calling me a murderer. I’m beleaguered with people, anger in their eyes. They squall my crucifixion.
“We shall nail thee, you bugger!”
Angry cries is all that I can hear. My ears sense a lancinating pain.
I have carved a gouge of mayhem into my existence and my macrocosm.


I was destitute at that point. I expected nothing more but a taste of success.
Sleeping with that old saggy ball, dead Armani man would help. I was wrong. For this success, I cheated on my boy. I slept with another man.
Such a whore I’m.
He loved me so much. He loved the way my hair flew with the wind and the way I palavered when drunk. He loved my ruckus driving and my wild dancing in the shacks.
I loved him too but could not afford to chose him over a bright career.
I was tired of those shacks, cheap beer and road trips.
I needed some martini. I wanted to fly and I did not know the limits. May be, I just believed, there are no limits and nothing could stop me achieve that ace.
I loved him truly but I chose to cuckold him in our relationship. Betray mon amor.


I’m promiscuous. I’m a betrayer.
I’m a sinner.


I smoke a whiff. My third smoke for the day.


Period.


I can’t recollect where I had gone wrong.
I feel as if the buildings around me are going to prostration and burry me and my sins, my boobs, my transgresses somewhere deep within.
Which was my first step to err that got me here?
I feel the earth beneath me tearing.
I did not know what date it was and what day. The tower clock said it was 2:00 PM. It was as if I had lost memory or something like a short term memory loss. I definitely remember the first boy I kissed but I can’t recollect what I’m supposed to do at this hour.
I feel lost.
Of course, I got no aim now and I live a trivial life. A trivial life that got its inception last night.
I must have some plans at least.
I feel a sudden gush of energy. I feel like living life again. I feel like dreaming again. Dream a good life. Less success might be decent enough for a decent living, I feel. I want to live. Yes I want to.
I can hear the faces around me saying, “Live life, it is worth.”


I feel a sudden darkness.


“YES.
I DID IT.
CREATED CHAOS. MADE MAYHEM. DONE DESTRUCTION.
Hail thee – me and my insanity”. I say to myself with a half smile.


A big sound and there is smoke around. I can see the buildings coming down. I can hear cries of pain.
I feel a sudden pain and I feel chocked.


Period – my existence.






NEXT DAY


Headlines:


PROJECT CC MM DD: Mentioned in a diary recovered from room no. 408 of Meridian.


Interrogations are on.

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SUMMER KISSED

We’re all born aliens. Outlanders in this cosmos and it is rib-tickling how we end up knowing a million of people out of those gazillion with whom we exchange a coup d'oeil or a smile or brush hands, without even noticing. A dozen are a family and a couple of them are close friends. The complication is not by those millions but by that one – you love.  It is a complication created due to those millions or those gazillions who make that one relationship so complicated and we blame it all on that ONE LOVE.

Mine is not a different story, no uniqueness probably. We all fall in love, don’t we?

Why not? God created us – to spread love. To love one another. To make love. To procreate. To make the best of life.  To live life to the fullest. To make life worth it. To spread the word of god – LOVE.

We’re often caught in this roughshod circle of evilness. Spreading the word of god becomes the deadliest sin. Yes, that’s a sin I have committed too.

Fate, kismet, destiny or give it whatever name! We blame it all on that god who created us to LOVE.

Separation is what got us together, making us the best of friends. A friend I fell in love with. A love that dawdles even when I know, separation is the only option and the only way out. I was no meathead. I knew this long back and I knew it well and I know it well. I was so afraid to express, to confess my love for him because I’m afraid of the society that never understands the word of god. The society that scrutinizes me with its sharp eyes and pierces my soul that craves only for him. The society is all based on its own traditions and rules made by those gazillion who are long gone and dead. Brotherhood and love is what the society preaches and yet, separates the two in love.

I managed to puke those three words out of my marijuana filled bladder. Of course, that was nothing new. He knew it all so well, how much I loved him and I hope he still knows how much I love him. He loved me too and does he still love me? The society stops me from questioning even these thoughts.

The time I smoked with him, the drive, the hug, the peck on the cheek, the night spent with him. His breath under my ears and our lips brushed against each other so hungrily. Just when it was about time we would end up in a mess… period. Forced onanism.

Society. Traditions. Laws and mores. Caste and religion.

These are the anchors that pull me back when I’m just about to give my life to the one I love. I’m pulled back for these societal pressures haunt me constantly. I love him so much, I wouldn’t even want him to face the bonkers mock and jinxes of that evil society we are forced to live in. Boundaries and limitations are all we are reminded of. They’re like a loop on our necks. A lil move of escape shall maneuver a death path and my grave will be stoned.

His smell still lollygags. His docile touch and the way he moved his hands, tracing a random path on my back. I was wrapped by him when he made constant attempts to check my tears and I laughed. I laughed because it was a temptation I wanted to cede but I knew, this must stop – NOW!

Those gazillion are a cuff that holds me.

How dearly I love him yet I can’t be with him.

Freedom from these clutches is what I crave. I’m a scapegoat in between these societal evils that takes away my love from me, the only boy I so love. As researchers say, a man can think of sex every seven seconds and yes every breath I take, I can think of him. I’m so obsessed with him; I crave for him every breath and every tear. How I long to wrap my arms around him and never let him go.

Freedom freedom freedom. Again and again, I crave for the same. I crave for the same him. I have loved and done nothing wrong and yet, I’m lead into the pit of separation and I burry myself into the agony of cherishing memories because they are all I have. His sweet embrace and the way he brushed my hair with his hands. It is all nothing but only memory that I await, must languish and disappear. I wait when I can breathe fresh and happy, without memories and without hallucinating him besides me. Hours and days, weeks and months. It has been more than a year but I can’t get him out of my head.

He is the weed I inhale, the beer I drink and the sausages that blow away my taste buds. He is all I want but all I get is a bouquet full of memories that I shall burry with me in my coffin. Before I’m buried, I want you to know, mon amor, I love you and will always love you immensely.

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What I see...

Walking with an open eye...

there are a million things that this place teaches me.

Mumbai, a place for you and me!

On my way back from college,

I learnt a lesson on bondage.

Crossing the traffic signal,

I noticed a blind man.

May be he is trying to go acoss

And i decided to give him a hand.

Nops... he was asking for a lift

I decided to help him reach his destination.

No one bothered.

No one stoped.

Finally, there was a rescuer,

Dressed in white.

A man with beard and a toppi

A Muslim he was.

And there I see,

How a Muslim came to rescue this Hindu blind man.

Brotherhood  - this is what i call.

Untied we stand, divided we fall.

Let's promote peace in the tensed situation. No matter what the verdict is, let not politics kill us and destroy us.

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In Memory of my ALMA MATER

Life is all vague for now…

Memories always irk. Err… no!!! They bring tears and smiles and sometimes, make me giggle in the shadows of my room. No matter how blurry – they are the best for keepsake.

            This is a memoir. Of my version in Lourdes – the beautiful temple I would want to visit again and again and again and again… till my lungs gasp and until my heart beats, I’ll worship this shrine.

            They say life is a blur. Well, yes. I do have few faded reminiscences right from my first day of my school, a small child in a green with two tiny pony tails and till the last day, when I walked in a saree. Oh! The farewell it was.

            I toddled in this huge well-structured place - ignorant, unidentified, naïve and just because my parents got me admitted. I knew nothing. Absolutely nothing. Why am I here? What m I doing here? What will I get from here? My questions were unasked but… they were answered, years later.  What I m is the answer to all my queries.

            I can’t forget Sr. Elizabeth. My first class teacher. I do not bear in mind what she looked like. All I summon up is a figure in badge habit with a black veil. Those lines we formed to go to the toilets, the Christmas tree that I colored brown and there - landed a B amidst all those A+s in my report card. I still have the photograph where I was a drummer boy, my pony popping out of the cap. How I would wait outside the classroom and watch all the big “didis” entering the computer lab. Oh I wish I could peek into the machine lab! I envied the blue uniform and fancied it so bad. Those innocent fights with class-mates – all I knew were “kai-do” and never any hard feelings involved.

            I miss… those days of safety cuddled with security and wrapped with the affection I received from my sisters and teachers. Those times when I could just be myself and play all the shenanigans along with my mates. Concrete friends and relations were built then. Oh how I disliked that teacher for being the first one to make me cry and how she later on turned to be the teacher I adore the most!!! Those wakeful hours of darkness during the exams and those fun hours buttered with hard work when we prepared for the annual days and fun-fairs. The bliss of team spirit it was!!! The picnics we waited for so eagerly.

            All I do now is shut my eyelids and sense those moments of ecstasy which will never come back and knowing that, I feel my heart so grave. Gone are those days, gone are those moments. I credit my school… LOURDES CONVENT for what I am today and what I will be tomorrow. I am greatly obliged.

            Time passed as I matured. It flew at the velocity of light years, I believe. From primary to high school and then, higher secondary. It seems just yesterday when I first walked into the gigantic gates, adhered to my father with tears in my eyes. How monstrous my school felt and now, it is a paradise on earth. All I wish is to be buried in the land of LOURDES so that my spirit lives in this beautiful paradise forever…

I proudly credit all my teachers and sisters: -                                                                                                          

Sr. Flevia, Sr. Rosemary, Sr. Ancela, Sr. Maud, Sr. Elizabeth, Sr. Delicia, Sr. Francisca, Sr. Anita, Rose teacher, Marathe teacher, Farnaz teacher, Sajida teacher, Neeta Dawar teacher, George teacher, Jaishree teacher, Rashika teacher, Preeti teacher, Daksha teacher, Indu teacher, Safia teacher, Deepa teacher,  Padma teacher, Vidhya teacher, Vadivu teacher, Anila teacher, Sunita teacher, Jasmine teacher, Komal teacher, Shweta Wadhva teacher, Mona teacher, Sangeeta teacher and all the one’s who’ve been a part of my school life.

A special credit and a big thank you: -                                                                                                                          

Sr. Elvira, Sr. Edwina, Julie teacher and the most special in all ways – Sr. Bindhu!!!

A big thank you: -                                                                                                                                                                          

Aunty and Bhanuben (in the primary), Parvati ben, Harish bhai, Yogesh bhai, Bahadur bhai, Deepak bhai, Alice teacher, Lourdine teacher, Dulsin teacher, Nilesh bhai and Neeta ben.

Love you all… love you LOURDES!!! Count on me, there is no better place than LOURDES and I would like to be re-born again and again, just to be an element of this wonderful family.

Rock on my mates and good luck…!!!

         

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