he and Him

One Night, he was sad and dishartened and asked the question to Him "Why?" ...
And He appeared in his dream....
he: Why?
He: Why what?
he: You know it all but as if...
He interrupted: want to hear from you..
he got irritated: you are supposed to know it all but I did not get what I asked for..
He: You remember, what are the exact things you asked for through your prayes?
he: Of course... there were a few and..
He: And were not they answered?
he fumbled: Yes, but, there were a few others too, I never asked for them but you knew them very well
He said: May be yes, but why didnt you asked for them too?
he: There were for me, just for me, I asked the ones for others, I was trying to be selfless...
He smiled: or you were trying to be Good, just trying to prove to your ownself, rise yourself in your own eyes
he: Yes, I was trying to be good and feel good about it, what's so wrong?
He: You are supposed to live within your own limitations of virtues and vices, your own limitations of ego, ..what you perceive as selflessness is just a manifestation of your selfish self ego...

Life | Death

She was considered hot – more by herself than the world. A girl born and brought up in those double-digits apartment floors in Perth, with all amenities his political father could earn in his twenty years of horse-traded career. Its not very clear whether for her adrenaline or friend’s pheromones, she decided to join the famous Gibson dessert trip.

Her only fear, other than faked ones, was that of snake which deserts are famous for. After all, the snake could spit almost as much poison in a single bite as his father could in an election speech.

It was burning hot, when after a week’s journey, the two of them landed up in a motel near Lake MacDonald. Next morning they started off a cross-country drive through the arid lands of the desserts.
In late afternoon, they were in midst of the dessert when it happened.

It just took two minutes between a chest pain and a collapse – blood stopped its 32 years of journey between 180 pounds of flesh and bones. She stood almost lifeless – it took eternal minutes to understand that she’s the lone life in the dessert.  She drove the 4-wheels when it gave in too – fuel burns too fast in reduced gears. And she was, walking under the sun – more frightened than tired.

It was an hour’s walk that she could survive. She fell down, as her knees gave way.  She looked around for a human help but all people never make same mistake at the same time in the same place. The sun was kissing the horizons, when she realized her destiny. All her childhood was playing in front of her. Her mouth was thirsty of water but her eyes were thirstier to see a life.

Western Brown Snake is not spectacular with a black head and brown bands on its body. But its poison is - a single bite can kill many a human lives.

It was moving towards her, swift confident move. She watched as it approached. She spread her feeble hand to touch it. It went past her, and her eyes followed as t lost itself in those tiny thorny shrubs.

She was sad – she lost sight of the only life that came close to her and she could not even touch it.

Winner | Loser

It was a rainy stormy night – the world was tired of struggling and getting ready to face the storm ‘Aaron’ which had made nice colorful weather forecast programs. It might have taken a detour and now there is just winds and rainfall. The city soon was fast asleep – except these two souls.

Tomorrow is the D-Day for El Passo annual chess championship and though a night’s sleep is essential for a morning game, the clock had already struck thrice.

“You are a loser” he said scornfully, to his lone student who could make it to the finals. She said “It would be not that bad though, being next to the champion who is also the trainer is an achievement in itself”

She left for her home to take a nap before she needs to get ready in the morning to drive to Colorado Springs for the championship venue.

It was hard for him to fall asleep, thinking of tomorrow’s match. Nights, though is often related to dark thoughts, is also the prime time for novel ideas. “It would be nice to let her win, I had been the champion for three years in a row – I deserve no more recognition” was what he uttered before his eyelids became too heavy.

There were thousand odd spectators and should be said a huge number keeping in mind the interest of people outside soccer & baseball and a drizzling Sunday morning.

The game was in its last lap, and, he realized that she could win without him giving any efforts to make her win. This ego hurt and the winner’s instinct made the adrenaline rush and he stood straight looking again at the board. “It was not a tough game for me” – he though. The next few moves by both were so calculated like a planning to rob the bank on a Monday morning.

“Checkmate” – that’s what he heard as a feeble voice – less confident about his reactions than her win. There were ovation and flash lights all around – after all cameras with flash are dirty cheap these days. But all the flashes could not move her eyes from his face – fiercely looking for a reaction. His eyes softened and an innocent smile started to be born in his face.

And all that digital cameras captured was a laughing loser and a weeping winner.

Father | Son

"You are wrong!"- He smiled with a confidant loud voice.

 His friend had mused that he was happier of the two. Both these men had one thing in common other than being widowers in their fifties - time had distanced them from their son to a point of no return.

The hero of this story, lets call him the father, is just staying under the same roof as his son, but he never heard a pleasant words from his for ages, though he still remembers the good old times, as fresh as yesterday. Still every morning, he wishes his son, calls him to have dinner with him which he rarely accepts, and, looks into every opportunity to make his life better, with occasional success.

This Friend, on the other hand, had severed the relation with his son, who has shifted to a rented room in the same block. He and his son stand strangers to each other, and, glance a formal smile in community gatherings. Each his own life - each in his own capsules of happiness. Somewhere, time had healed the bitterness and memories hardly flash - time has drawn many a silky curtains between them.

 The Father, however, suffers from fresh agony, now and then, the wound resurfaces every times, his son returns scornful angry words, if any, when he approaches him for showing some care.

Father keeps quite - to his son; and anybody in this world - this is his private affair. He often ponders about what created the distance. It’s not that there were no reasons - for him they were trivial. He believes, every individual has the right to his own judgments and things trivial to him may have hurt him bad. He had tried to patch things up but it never worked.

Sitting on a park bench, he today, spend the sunset, looking at the horizon and telling his agony & helplessness to his friend. The friend listened with and impatient ear and said "It’s your choice to be unhappy, we both share the same circumstances, you chose not to let go and you need to suffer all your coming days. I went through what you are going everyday and then I chose to be happy". The father listened, though for a while and smiled - a smile that can make many jealous.

"You are wrong; I still have a son – someone to remember every moment, to show my care and love. I am a bad trader, if I can’t get anything in return but if you just cannot give, you remain a beggar for life"