Angels & Needles

The buzzing of the clock tore through the night's silence and with that I finally accepted failure. My lungs were aching for air and I was drenched in sweat. After more then 7 hours of tossing and turning on the bed I finally quit. When you are dead tired the elixir of sleep comes really slowly. Add to that my present condition and you have an extreme case of insomnia in your hands.

'Some nights would be difficult. Really painful.'

I sat up and tried to steady my spinning head. My mouth felt dry & rough as a sandpaper. I gulped down some shallow breaths and tried rising to my shaking knees. Another failure added to the story of my life. I tried to scream, to curse, to cry the least but my physical exhaustion forced my hands down yet again. The red digits of the clock at my bedside showed it was 3 A.M, but it could've been the middle of a sunny day or a drizzle in the early hours of the evening for all I cared. I just craved for one thing. The only thing that had the power to transform my dingy little apartment into the grounds of heaven.

'Take control my friend. It would tempt you in so many ways. TAKE CONTROL'

I got up from the bed and moved towards the window. As I opened it, the stench of the filth and the humidity of the city hit me like a wall of bricks. My blood-shot eyes had that dazed look in them as I tried to peer through the darkness. The cityline was adorned with bedazzling lights but all I could see was the looming darkness in front of me.

"You will see things you would like to see. Reality becomes a dream and hallucinations the truth."

Another shot of pain rammed down my throat. I fell to my knees as my insides caught fire. I could actually feel by heart getting ready to burst out of my ribcage and my entrails twisting into a new shape. I could feel my skin melting away and the my bones turning to dust. A grasshopper's chirp halfway across the world could reach my ears and I felt the rush of the warm blood rushing towards my head. Bile and vomit rose towards my throat with a blood-curling scream intermingled with the shit. And just as it had started it passed.

"You have the strength to say No."

For a long time I stayed on the floor, infact I lost all sense of time. Only the floor's coldness and my own shaking persona were my companions. I tried to focus on the watch but everything around me was just a blur. Finally I started the crawl toward my desk. Every move I made sent down waves of pain through my body, but I've learnt to live with pain.
It pains when your heart gets broken.
It pains when you see someone else getting everything you deserve.
It pains when you loose the goal you had set out to achieve.
It pains to see the disappointment in the eyes of your loved ones.
It pains each time you insert the needle in your veins.

"Addiction is easy, recovery is not. Some days would just be like straight out of hell. You should throw away all the drugs as your first step."

I somehow managed to plant myself in the seat. I opened the drawer and took out the bottle and a hypodermic needle. I filled it with the clear liquid and rolled up my sleeves. For a second I forgot everything as I saw the numerous puncture wounds on my forearm. Each one of those tiny holes told of a larger story behind them. I closed my eyes and inserted the needle in my vein.

"Call me anytime you want."

My eyes fell on my cell. If only she wasn't 'out of coverage area'. If only I was able to talk to her, nothing would've come this far. My eyes welled up with tears as I realized that due to my weakness, I was loosing the battle we had been fighting for two months.
I still hadn't inserted the plunger, yet.

"You are not alone. I'm not only your counselor, I'm your friend."

The 'ping' brought me back to my own personal hell. I searched for the source and saw my computer was still on. I had forgotten to sign myself out of Gtalk also. It was a message. From MH. 'Hi'.
She was one of my classmates from college. Smart. Beautiful. Elegant. Intelligent. Considerate. And we had hardly ever talked to each other.
We were just acquaintances during all those years. Our conversations were limited to the customary Hellos and Goodbyes. After so many years of disconnect from everyone, her perfunctory greeting seemed like a ghost of the past. The bright, happy, joyous past. The past that killed me each day, little by little. I almost made up my mind to switch off my computer when she again wrote.
'I'm so glad you are online. Will you please talk to me?? I was just going to kill myself.'

"Don't worry friend. Everyone is going through this life, looking for their angels. You will find yours too."

I stared at the screen. At my apartment. At the drug filled needle still sticking into my arm. At the words flashing across the monitor. At the broken pieces of my life.
I took a deep breath to calm my shaking hands and tried to ease out the pain sledgehammering my mind. I took out the needle from my arm and threw it out of the open window. Suddenly, I could make out the lights of the city and the faint glow of rising sun in the backdrop.

"Talking to someone helps. It gives you strength. The will to fight, to survive. Share your pain my friend."

'What happened MH?', I typed back.


-----

Skillet were right. Angels show up in the strangest of places.

Like mine did a week back, at 3 A.M in the night !!! and when I was least expecting it. This one is for ya. :P
AND no, I wasn't doing drugs AND NO she wasn't thinking of killing herself (Amen).. tats why the online's friend's initials are in the reverse.. :D you'll get it 'HM'.

It is also for one of my philosophies... actually Raj Kapoor's or rather Shailendra's to be exact... "Kisi ki muskurahaton pe ho nisar...Kisi ka dard mil sake to le udhaar..."

If you want to forget your own pain, be compassionate towards others problem, try to listen to them if not solve them. It works. Trust me. ;)
PEACE till the next.

Time for a Heartbreak :-/ OR Shotgun is a Man's Best Friend :D

"Is it time already?"

"Yes sir,it is. Time to break your heart sir."

"Oh well, we both knew this would happen sooner or later. Anyways, will you bring my shotgun up please?"

"I already have it here sir. Have cleaned it all, in and out and have also put in two extra rounds for contingencies, sir."

"You are the best butler ever. Even Jeeves can't match up to you."

"Thank You Sir."

------

Don't know whether am down or feeling like on 7th heaven. But this is for sure P.G Wodehouse is the best writer EVER. :D

Naked

His eyes met his own in the reflection.
Deep brown.
He saw his own face peering back. As if pleading to be pulled out from the depths of murky waters.

The smartly cut blue suit with a silk handkerchief in the pocket, the Rolex on his wrist, a nice haircut. Everything contrasted with he rest of his appearance.
Covered with dust and grime. Glitter. White foam. The week old stubble. Dried tears. Blood.

He looked as a sculpture crafted to perfection and then for good measures rubbed in the filth of the world.
The city was alive outside but none of the sounds penetrated the silence in his mind.

Who am I.

He undid his tie and dropped it to the floor. The coat followed the course.
The white shirt had been robbed of it's crispness a long time back. The patch of blood on the left side of his chest had dried a long time ago. His heart should've been there but it had ceased to beat in the past itself.
Slowly he departed with the shirt, the pant and his undergarments. Nude but still not stripped. Not an ounce of weight of the outside world, no expectations from other pulling him down, but he still felt as if lead ran through his veins.

He soaked the scrub in the ice cold water and touched his face to swipe off the make up of the world he has applied throughout his life. The moment it touched the filth of his face all the sadness he had felt engulfed him. All the disappointed faces of his peers brought tears to his eyes. The curses he had earned in his lifetime screamed in his head. Every hate filled face of his companions in the path of life swarmed his mind. Swearing at him. Wishing for his death. Paranoia. Madness.
Was he the devil's angel. The self centered soul of this dimension. Tasked with bringing death, destruction, sadness and grief to all those whose path he has crossed. Was he destined to hurt all of them in the name of showing them the truth?

His hands shook but he kept on scrubbing his body. He had to take the weight of his soul.

The scrub made contact with the foam and suddenly all the hatred of the world inside him changed to happiness. Fun. Laughter. Joy filled his soul. Memories of friends praising him, being grateful to him, being proud of him filled his body. The love he had given and had earned back.
Maybe that was his calling. Being a decent man in an indecent times. Helping others without being asked to. Caring for them. Making them smile through their tears. Being there rock in troubled times.

Suddenly the scrub made contact with the blood. He wasn't ready for this. The silence tightened its grip around him. He could hear the cricket on the other side of the world. The betrayals. The pain. The loves he had lost. The tears. The fragmented pieces of his broken trust entered his soul even further, drawing more blood to his soul. The long heeled scars opened again, sending waves of nausea through him but thankfully didn't started bleeding.
Maybe he was born to struggle. To fight. To fail. To lose.

The scrubbing off of the glitter brought contentment over his aching mind. The applauds, accolades, salutations filled his ears. The moments of glory, achievements and the beaming faces of people danced in front of his eyes.
Maybe he was supposed to reach his goals. Setting up one after the other. Finding contentment in living life on the crest of brilliance and splendour.

He dropped the remains of the scrub on the floor and stared back at the reflection.
Clean. Pure. Without virtues and vices. Naked. Stark naked. The way God wanted him to come to earth.
But wasn't his skin covered with his mother's blood when he had came out of the womb. Maybe God's best laid plans fail too.

He was brown from the sun. Face felt like sandpaper. Taut body and warm blood flowing through his head. But he felt light.

He stared back and suddenly, he found his place.

Heaven Sent

Official entry to the 'Silhouette' Short Fiction Contest

3 D's & Yours truly

I fumbled with the matches. Should I or shouldn't I? As I contemplated on the answer to the dilemma I poured another shot of vodka in my glass.

I've forsaken my lungs, my liver is on a downward spiral but the agony of my mind & soul find respite only when my senses are not working at their very best.
For someone who preached that one ought to give proper respect to the Vodkas & the Cigarettes of the world and enjoy them instead of using them to douse the fires within, I admit I've taken the low road myself.

NO. I'm not depressed yet. I'm going through a trough in my life but it's just a phase. I know. After 20 years on the top one has to come down once in a while. Call it the Yin-Yang balance if you want to.
I will not vindicate my position but I'll definitely oppose the idea that I'm turning into an addict and to strenghten that I'll just dissect the special bond I share with the 3D's. Drinks, Drugs & the Deathstick.

I glorify the 3-D's in almost all my posts. The misunderstood 'Three Musketeers' of the real world. I do not miss an opportunity to mention at least one of them in all my conversation and literacy pieces. I won't suggest to anyone to drink or smoke but I'll definitely give them hell who'll try to paint my world in their colours of Black & White. I'm not fascinated by the effects of these substance abuses, actually I consider them as mere props to my character. My fascination with them are intermingled with my attraction towards the Byronic Hero.

The tragic hero of Lord Byron, idealised but flawed. Smart, cunning, magnetic, mysterious yet laced with simple human traits of jealousy, hatred, cynicism, arrogance and the self destructive tendencies makes him not only believable but also attainable. I admit being an X-men (specially Gambit) or Flash would be much more valuable (God help the World Bank then) and interesting (peek-a-boo ladies) but the sense of practically compels meto think more on the line of being the attainable Joker instead of the idealised sugarcandy Superman.
I never wanted to be a Mr. Goody-two-shoes asshole infact the dark black or even grey characters always made me feel connected to their torments. Be it the John Abraham of Jism, Irrfan Khan in Rog, Muzammil in Dhokha or Emraan Hashmi in Awarapan I relate to everyone of them at some level. Infact the New age Dev D seemed more like me didn't come as a surprise out of the closet. I'm definately not suicidal but the idea of finding solace in death intrigues me. I don't have a maniacal-sadistic trait in me but 'the ego' drives me. I'm not the guy whom you'll want to end up in a dark alley with me in a raging mood but I'm the guy whom you would like to turn to when you are down and out and everyone is against you.

The fact is that I'm an idealistic SOB in the end is part of the truth too. I still believe in the simple emotions of love & friendship. I believe in the goodness of others. And to those who lack in compassion, care and love, those who've forgotten all the good things that happened to them, all the times someone was there to hold them and support them when they considered themselves alone, I just have hope in my heart for them. That's me. I'm capable of nothing less then eternal hope.

And I'm full of contradictions. Part of the charatcter.

Till next time. PEACE.

Dev ME

What sort of person must Sarat Chandra be to write something like Devdas in the first place?
J K Rowling may be responsible for spreading Pottermania around the globe and J R R Tolkein's Rings trilogy might have won the most Oscars in the history of academy awards but I guess there is still to come a piece of fiction that had inspired 10 different film versions of it.

I saw Anurag Kashyap's version of Devdas yesterday with my own 'Paro' & the similarities between me and the protagonist were striking. The self destructive streak, the helplessness of love, the pendulum swinging between self pity & despair, the carelessness about his own self, the unnecessary indulgence in cigarettes, hashish and ganja, the inevitable search for happiness and love, my own Paro whom I can not hurt, my Chanda whom I had to see after watching this flick, the two Chunnilal's of my own life giving me a shoulder to rely on from time to time, the dark void sucking in my sanity every night and last but the most important similarity- the worshiping of the brand name 'Smirnoff', I could relate everything with myself.

The novel can be considered as the convergence of the tragic Hamlet and the classic Romeo & Juliet but is in fact bigger then both of them. Every human has an evident dark, uncaring & self destructive side to himself and the way it has been shown in the novel as well as the films, specially in Dev D, will make look both Kafka and Edgar Allen poe as amateurs.

The whole kaleidoscope of emotions running through the reels, the bizarre colours splashed across the canvas, the first shot of our protagonist making a joint, the open sexuality of Paro and the coming of age of Chanda, every second of the next 3 hours is engrossing. Unless until you are the happiest soul in this world you won't relate an iota to it but for the rest of the majority there will be at least one moment in there where you would sit up and take notice.

The leads are naturals and actually brilliant in their portrayals. Never once will you will be reminded of Abhay Deol from his earlier works he is totally convincing as the new age Devdas, Mahi Gill as the bindass punjabi lass who transforms into a mature lady is completely believable, Kalki as Chanda the teen-lady prostitute struggling with her own ghosts has that innocence and vulnerability on her face that makes you want to reach out to her and in the end Dibyendu as the practical Chunnilal who makes you wish for a resourceful tout like him in your own life's script.

The music is brilliantly awesome but am sure will sound just like a raucous cacophony to most purists. It's a healthy blend of Rock, Lounge and a little folk thrown in for the extra flavour. As with the whole film nothing here is formula driven and the songs just take the movie forward and disclose the turmoils of the leads. The rock version of Emotional Atyachaar, The peppy Duniya number, soulful Nayan Tarse and Aankh Michonni are THE tracks to listen in this quarter of the year.

The cinematography, camerawork, lighting and all other technical details are done quite well. My only complaint is the second half that could've been a little more sleek if edited properly.

As all the columnists in the newspapers are rejoicing this is a coming of age film for Indian cinema but as a warning watch out with whom you are going out with. Your family might want to get out of the hall in the first ten minutes (and maybe later individually book the next show for themselves alone).

Saratchandra considered Devdas to be his worst book but it became his most celebrated work. I guess this proves the point that we people are addicted to self pity and love to brood over our sorrows.

Last point. This is the best version of Devdas to come out. Dileep Kumar's version is the second best.

Where have the Jokers gone???

The most important of all the senses god bestow upon us is without doubt the Sense of Humour.

You can do away with smell when you are passing through the streets of Mumbai, eyes can always take a hike when flipping through channels(except in the cases when Katrina Kaif is on the screen...obvious exceptions), sense of touching is of no use when you have no one [:)] to touch, as for taste,if you've eaten south Indian once you've eaten it to last a lifetime ( if you've eaten a lot at 'Sagar Ratna' then maybe you'll understand what motions run through my mind and belly at the mere mention of it) and lastly as for the sense that provides us with hearing, well when horns are blaring at you in a Delhi traffic jam you'll wish you were born deaf.

All in all it is the Sense of Humour which don't have any ill effects (except maybe if you laugh at someone else's expense who looks like a cross between Batista and Khali and you are a poor copy of Rey Misterio then my friend you are in a lot of trouble and have all my sympathy with you).

Well my friends and me used to have this in abundance, the ability to laugh at others, make others laugh with us and when it really mattered make everyone laugh at someone we actually didn't liked. My best friend and me were quite a lethal duo in the last department, in fact the only time I was beaten was the one when I had pissed the guy really off and he was almost in tears, twisting and turning my dearest arm while I was laughing out so loud that I couldn't defend myself and my useless Partner-in-Crime was busy rolling on the floor laughing (with the whole class mind ya). Although with hindsight I can preach that laughing at someone else's expense can be quite hilarious provided it is safe (read the Batista-Khali scenario again) and clean but at that time we were the laughing duo, who disrupted the peace of the class and with whom even the class monitor used to laugh when we were suppose to play lambs (which mind ya is quite bewildering, I mean c'mon have you ever been with a bunch of lambs?? They make more racket then a mob of Manchester United fans).

Me and my mates have gone through a lot but always had each other to pass on the worries and laugh at our miseries. We still make fun of others and each other, sometimes even raising doubts over another persons sexual orientation and manliness (cheap jokes...hitting below the belt but we are usually drunk or high,in our defense, so it doesn't matter), even once in a while prove that the other person is pregnant and the fact that the other person is a guy never bothered us (am the only one with biology written as a subject in his HSC certificate but still I keep mum and enjoy the festivities never telling them that it is impossible... or is it??? haven't a guy given birth recently?? I tell you in this world of 'man-playing-god' anything is possible, even me getting a decent percentile in CAT or Kulu getting a job or Gaurav finally figuring out his love life).

Inspite of all the laughter and joy we share something has added up in our life which have changed all of us a lot. From simple carefree guys who used to idle away there time to glory without a thing to worry about in the world suddenly all of us have started trodding on the path of becoming Man. Real men like our fathers with responsibilities, commitment, troubles and problems on our minds (my parents were thinking of marrying me off to thrust some responsibity in me & the only thing that stopped them was my threat that then I'll leave my pesky kids on their door step while me and dearest will be out there earning our chikkan tikka and rumali roti, and trust me after raising me, ma & pa aren't be interested in rearing even 50% of my DNA for half a day). Studying like never before to get into a good college, worrying about the job at hand, going to the office at 7 and returning at 9, calling other pals to ask them whether they can post a resume to a company, screaming 'fucking hell' when the dean has banned their placement, worrying about finances and actually learning what really happens in the share market just to make a lil extra cash we all do it while planning for the life ahead.

The realisation that the era of our 'I-don't-give-a-damn' attitude is over is quite sad but that is reality for you. Reality continues to ruin my life.

And by the way there is a saving grace for me after all.

Bill Watterson said “Life's disappointments are harder to take when you don't know any swear words.” Thankfully I learnt a lot of them during my course of life.

I'm a simple man in the end.

Although yesterday I wished for a nuclear powered car that could turn into a jet with laser-guided heat-seeking missiles yet I'm a simple man.

I just got complex tastes.

Tenses

Past, Present and Future. The main three tenses of the English language. And the three states which prevail in everyones life, all interconnected and each and every one of us struggling to make peace with at least one of them.

Some of us are worried about our future, struggling with the unknown, scared of the uncertainties, and living each day to figure out what next life might throw back at us.

And then there are the ones coping with the past, the unnerving fight to make amends with everything that has happened, trying to tidy up the mess that was created by them and struggling to put the pain behind them.

The 'present strugglers' are fighting to live happily or to them just being alive will suffice. They are the ones who have accepted that they can't change the past and have no hope for the future so the only priority they have got to live the present moment and add it to there kitty of 'things-that-worked-out-in-the-past'.

There are one another type of strugglers too in this world and actually these are the ones who hold the majority. The 'All of the above' group and I know about this one with all the details because I'm a part of this godforsaken community.

The most misunderstood of them all, me for starters trust people, the ultimate sin of them all by what I've heard, some think the most major mistake I make is that I believe in the goodness of others and where there is no chance of any good coming out, I just hope.

I never signed up to be hurt but I did and from some of the most unexpected quarters, People who used to say I was very important to them forsook me and worst of it all I forgave each and every one of them, took in the pain and tried to put it in the basement and threw away the key. I tried my level best to be understanding and follow the codes of civility but to no avail. I still remained the bad guy in there books and I'll always remain that,I have accepted this.

But alas these are the moments, when everything just starts to settle down, it is when the most strongest and opportunistic of them all, strikes back as if it has been waiting for all this time just to catch you off guard. The past comes rushing by with his sword of memories and arrows of deja vu and this is the time when the actual struggle begins.

The smallest of words, the simplest of gestures, the most melodious songs, and sometimes people, places all conspire against you (unwittingly) and bring back all the moments you were trying to forget. The most delightful of conversations with friends causes you to reach for the phone and pour out your sadness to someone who you believe (and hope) cares. The most unintentional reactions of someone brings all the anger within you to the surface.

And then there are his siblings Present & Future both of them just as unforgiving. The strikes of the future are compounded by the aid lent by the Present.

But what is the reason of all these struggles? To make our future more brighter or to improve all the decisions we have already taken?

Of what I've learnt is that this is not a fight and definitely not a struggle. this is simply a pursuit. A Pursuit of Happiness and Peace. This is life. To learn from everything that has happened to us, to make sure we do not do it again in our present and hence totally rule out the chance of finding us in the same situation in the future. The three tenses Past, Present & Future are not the devils of our lives, they are just what you think of them to be. They can be your nemesis and at the same time they can be your best friends. Its you who have to decide what they are going to end up like.

As for me, if you are wondering that maybe from all the bad experiences I have stopped hoping, stop believing and thrown trust out of the window you can't be more wrong. I was always an optimistic and guess will always remain one. I'm capable of nothing less than eternal hope.

Its just that I've learnt to make walls around my basement.Works fine for me against the dirty little tricks the Past plays.

Let me know what works for you.