O

Many ideas and thoughts have been running through my head for the past few days. I am going through a phase that can be considered to be the antonym of a 'writer's block'. One night, I woke up at 2:45 am. My brain started playingback the events of the previous day. As the time passed it started fixing its attention on the letter I. As the playback came to an end, I thought "In today's world, I seems to have become more important than anything else". I tried to get back to sleep but my brain had decided that it did not want to sleep anymore. Finally, at 3:45 am I got up and wrote a poem that I named 'I'. Couple of days later there was an incident related to flies in my workplace. I decided to write about it. Flies are referred to as Ee in Tamil and so I named the write-up 'E'. As I clicked the publish button, I realized that if I posted three more entries and named them 'A', 'U' and 'O', I would have covered all the vowels. I thought for sometime and got a vague idea for A. It is based on a small incident from many years ago. I am not sure if I am really interested in writing about it but if I don't get any other idea, I would have no choice but to develop it. I did not get any idea for 'U' and 'O' though. 

Two days later, another incident occured that gave me the idea for 'O'. As I was sitting down to write the 'o'rticle, I remembered that I had a couple of incomplete pieces written many months ago about the main character in this incident. I went through the drafts section of this blog and found them. I no longer remember the details of the incidents and so I could not complete them. I reproduce those incomplete articles here prior to describing the events related to 'O'.

Incident 1 (Jan2021)

The sweet and milky tea tasted sweet and milky. I have always wondered why this concoction was called tea. During the initial years, I let the liquid flow to various corners of my mouth and attempted to identify the flavour of the tea in it. It tasted like milk, it tasted like sugar, it tasted like payasam and at times, it tasted like kashayam but it never tasted like tea. Like Buddha, realization struck me under a tree. I was sitting under the mango tree and sipping the liquid that all of us referred to as 'tea' when I heard Mr. Tweedy's voice uttering "it's all in me head". I jumped up and shouted "Of course! There it is!" Finally, I found the flavour of tea in the liquid. Like many other discoveries, this one too had its own minor tragedy - my new white shirt had a brown patch that looked like the map of Asia without half of China and India.

On that day too, I was relishing the flavour of tea when the conversation on the table turned towards politics. Politics did not interest me, but I listened to the conversation anyway. The supporters of the party ruling our country were gushing about the achievements of our prime minister. From time to time, they looked at me for support. I did not say anything but smiled and nodded my head. In a few minutes, their conversation turned towards the chief ministers of a few states who voiced their opinions against the prime minister and his party. The happy expressions on their faces were replaced with anger and agony. As in the earlier case, they looked towards me for support. Once again, I preferred to remain quiet while smiling and nodding my head. Apparently, this time they did not appreciate my expression as an expression of solidarity. They stared at me for a few seconds and started ignoring me. The poor fellows did not realize that I was only enjoying my tea and neither agreed nor disagreed with them. 

I got up and went back to the counter to pick another cup of tea. When I came back to the table, I found that my seat was taken by a person whose opinions on the prime minister and the ruling party did not match with that of the other two occupants. The table did not have an additional chair and so I had to move on. I felt cheated like Arnab Goswami would have felt if he woke up on the morning of 'The Big Debate' day with a cough and sore throat.  

Incident 2 (May 2021)

The table was occupied by two people with whom I only conversed a little. I did not hesitate to place myself in one of the empty chairs besides them though. The two of them were engrossed in their conversation and did not bother to welcome me. I did not like to disturb them with a "hi" or "hello". I stirred the milky tea till I believed the heap of jaggery powder in the cup was completely and thoroughly mixed. I listened to the conversation on the table. It was on politics. I am not sure if anyone has bothered to study it, but if statistics are taken on the topic of discussion on a table consisting of more than two men aged above 40 years, there is a 80% chance of the topic of discussion being politics. A few years back I would have cursed myself for being a part of this table but no longer. Since 2013 discussions on politics tend to be more thrilling than a James Bond movie. 

Let me spend a few lines explaining the previous sentence. Many human beings believe that they are unique. This is true when one looks at an individual as a whole but when we start dissecting the individual based on his or her thoughts and beliefs one finds that the individual can be comfortably placed in one category or the other. For example, when one considers human being within the purview of religion, they can be placed in one of the following categories.

1. My god exists
2. Sometimes, my god exists
3. All gods exist
4. God? What god?

Human beings can be diced and sliced to many such categories. With time, some of these categories become irrelevant. For example, the categorization based on horse riding or sword fighting or use of pagers have become irrelevant. On the other hand, newer categories are constantly created. For example, twelve or thirteen years ago, categories appeared based on people's preference for mobile phones. At that time, based on this criteria, the following three categories of humans existed.

1. Nokia allade vera onnineyum Nokkarude or Nokia users.
2. Blackberry is berry berry good or Blackberry users.
3. The smartphone is smart enough for me or smartphone users.

Today, the categories have changed. The whole Nokia and Blackberry categories have reduced to such levels that dictionaries are considering adding the word 'micrority', which mean much lesser than minority. As of 2021, the following categories of mobile phone users exist on the planet.

1. 'i' am beautiful or iPhone users
2. An 'i' for an 'i' makes the world phone-y or Android user.

So the categorization of humans is dynamic. 

In 2014, a new set of categories emerged among Indians. At that time, the categories and their definitions were not clear but by 2019, the categories became clear.

1. Intellectuals - "Don't Modi-fy India"
2. Patriots - "Let us Modi-fy India"

Of course, there exists a 'micrority' of Indians who are neither patriots nor intellectuals but their existence is usually not taken into consideration. 

One of the fellow occupants of the table belonged to the second category, patriots. The other, being a Bengali, hated Mamta Banerjee, which automatically meant, he was a patriot. The patriot spoke vehemently on the strong possibility of the BJP winning the elections in Bengal and the Mamata hater spoke vehemently on the possibility of Mamta losing the same elections in Bengal. While the former talked about the positives of BJP, the latter spoke about Mamta's negatives. It was interesting to see how both were talking about the same consequence, but they were taking different routes to get there.

It was ironic that despite the display of confidence from both sides, Mamta won the elections comfortably.

The Vowel Series - 'O'

He seemed livid as he stormed out of the meeting room. He blocked my path and shouted menacingly "They made us work on the day of our important festival and now, they are declaring a holiday for this unimportant festival". I tried to calm him down by explaining "there was a government order for this festival and the management had no choice but to declare a holiday". He was not in a mood to listen and continued to shout "There was a government order for that day too. I was published in all the newspaper". I continued patiently "In this case, the order was sent directly to the head of the organization". He did not pay heed to my words "It was in the newspaper. All the papers had it and still it was not a holiday for us". I was losing my patience. I knew him well and was not really interested in continuing the conversation. I decided to give one final shot at making him understand. I said firmly "this one too was in the newspaper but in this case, the order was directly sent to the organization. That did not happen earlier." He did not pay heed to my words still but the annoyance in my voice reached him. He murmured something under his breath and walked away.

The next afternoon, a few of us were sitting in our workspaces and were involved in a post lunch conversation. A colleague was describing his plans for the Onam day "All at home have plans for Onam and since our holiday was only declared yesterday, I get to spend a peaceful day alone at home". Before I could respond, the one who was appalled by the declaration of holiday for Onam, the previous day barged into our midst shouting "They won't give a holiday to celebrate the birthday of our beloved god, but they are declaring holiday for the remembrance of an evil daitya." I was annoyed at this rude interference but thought it best to be silent. My colleague protested "He was not evil. He was considered a good king". He responded indignantly "No way. His sins were washed away only when he was sent to the other world. He was evil and selfish." The colleague persisted "But wasn't he considered to be benevolent and kind". "Nonsense" came the response. "He was only kind during the yagna. He wanted wrest control from Indira and that was the only reason for his kindness. The gods came together to stop that evil daitya to take control over swargam. He had to be stopped and that is why Mahavishnu descended to the earth. He was a daitya afterall." Though I had heard the word daitya I did not know its meaning. I asked him the meaning of the word and he said "Daityas are lazy fellows. They are evil. They are not like Asuras who are also considered to be Brahmins." By this time, his mobile phone rang, and he left from our midst. We felt relief flowing through us. We looked at each other and smiled.

E

The Vowel Series - 'E'

I am a fly. I am called so due to my ability to fly. There are many other creatures on this planet that can fly. Yet, only members of my species are referred to as fly. I find it humiliating. I know my species have a scientific name associated with it. But scientific names are not really names. They are set of letters that are brought together by the scientists in their attempt to prove to the world that they are scientists. Usually, it is not even pronounceable, and sound like two street dogs growling at each other. So, I am forced to live through the humiliation of being referred to as fly. But this name is better than the name I am given in Tamil. In Tamil, I am called, hold your breath, e. Just e; nothing ahead, nothing after. A lone e standing against the world. You would think "what's wrong with e? It's not bad. It is a vowel." But ground reality is different. For instance, the other day I chanced upon a delicious plate of kesari. I sat on the plate, by the kesari, cleaned my hands by rubbing it against each other and was about to pick up a morsel of the kesari when I heard someone scream "eeeeeeeeeeeeeee". Someone was offended by my presence on their plate. The food looked delicious, and I wanted a small bit of it. But no! The fellow does not want to share it with me. This despite the fact that I cleaned my hands well before I went anywhere close to the food. He does not care. He is offended and mangles my name and makes it eeeeeeeeeeeee from e. Can you see the difference between the two? I cannot describe how humiliated I felt on that day. 

Human beings are insensitive. For many centuries flies and humans have coexisted peacefully. There were no problems at all. But now they consider us to be filthy creatures and every one of them is constantly thinking of ways to exterminate us. I have a feeling that, in a few years, we flies would be extinct like out poor cousins, the mammoths. Now you might be confused about the relationship between a mammoth and a fly. A voice in your head must be screaming "But the two of you can't be cousins?" Biologically speaking, we are not cousins. But there is more to life than biology. Screw science, we are talking about emotions here. We are talking about partnership. We are talking about FEELINGS. Humans have lost their ability to understand feelings. Of course, there are exceptions. S S Rajamouli is one such exception.

Rajamouligaru is a legend in the e-world. He made a movie about us. We were the protagonist in that movie. We even figured in the title of the movie, which was Naan Ee. I do realize that there is a problem in the name, he has added an additional e to e. Ideally, the title should have been Naan E but I am willing to accept the additional 'e'. Humans find it difficult to understand that the name of a species can be one letter long. Here too there is an exception, Prince. For some time, he called himself by a symbol. But the humans could not digest this fact and they referred to him as 'artist formerly known as Prince'. Morons! 

Getting back to Rajamouligaru. He has gained a lot of respect among flies. He made a fly to star in his movie and the fly was not just a star in the movie, he was an action star. The fly was featured on the poster too. When I see the poster, I get the feeling that the fly looks like me. Maybe it is an ancestor of mine. The sad part is that I have not seen the movie yet. It was released many years before my birth. But I have heard the story from many of the elders in my family many times. In the e-world, Naan Ee is as respected as Mahabaratha is among humans. Mouligaru is our Veda Vyasa. Like Mahabaratha, the movie is considered by many to be devoid of scientific facts. But screw science, we want entertainment. Both Mahabaratha and Naan ee have tonnes of entertainment. Long live Rajamouligaru. As a tribute to this great man, I have watched RRR 100 times.

But other than Rajamouligaru, not many of the human species are friendly to us. They shoo us away when we approach them with a friendly greeting. We cannot sit on them, not on their food, not on their table, not on their work equipment. This list goes on. If humans had a choice, they would eradicate us from the face of the planet like they are doing in the cases of all other species except goats, cows, hens, dogs and cats. Oh! I forget. They love the bees too. Those damned insects have a sting, which they don't hesitate to use. Yet the human rear them, take them in their hands and sometimes kiss them too. The bees too have a movie to their credit and the movie is simply called The Bee Movie. Unlike Naan Ee, The Bee Movie is a Hollywood movie. If we had puked some sweet liquid like the bees, we too would have been loved by the humans. But we are not bees, we are only e's. 

During my younger days, I used to think that the humans are playing with us when they were actually trying to swat us. Many flies still think it is some form of dance that the humans liked. So, when the humans wave their hands, we too flew around to the rhythm of their hands. In the process, many flies have lost their lives. I realized it once, when one of the humans went off rhythm and tried to land his palm on me. I was barely able to get off the palm's path. I was shocked and looked up at the human's face expecting an apology. Instead, I saw that it was filled with anger and frustration. I realized immediately that he was not dancing with me but was trying to kill me. I flew away shaken. I spent the rest of that day on the branch of a tree contemplating on the point of my existence. I did not find a satisfactory reason for my existence but decided that I will no longer dance to the human rhythm. I tried to inform my fellow fly brothers about the intent of the humans waving their hands but none of them listened. They continue to dance to the human tunes, and many die under the force of the palm.

The humans have been relentless in their attempt to exterminate us. Their obsession with cleanliness will wipe them of the planet. Just recently, a virus attacked them and nearly wiped them off the planet. The virus did not care about the human obsession for cleanliness and attacked everyone who came in its path. Yet, humans spent many hours cleaning their hands with soaps. Those days were tough for us flies. The smell of the soap was strong, and we found it very difficult go near them. To make matters worse they sprayed chemicals on everything around them. Every time we touched any of those chemical laden surfaces, our feet and hand burned for a long time. Many of my friends and relative started dying due to the rampant use of chemicals. I thought the virus would end up eradicating us e's rather than the humans. Fortunately, the humans lost interest in the virus. As a result, the virus' effect subsided, and humans went back to their old lives. No more washing of hands and no more use of chemicals.

However, the days of peaceful coexistence did not dawn with the end of the virus era. The humans once again got annoyed with our company. They started trying out newer techniques to keep us away. They tried to kill us by placing plates filled with leaves on tables. I am not sure what the thinking behind this idea was, but it did not work. Neither did the leaves look appealing to our eyes nor did they smell good. One day, I decided to check them. They were placed on plates at the centre of a table. I landed on the plate and looked around at the people on the table. No one cared about my presence. I inched up to the leaves, cleaned my hands by rubbing them against each other, pinched a small piece off a leaf and tasted it. It tasted terrible. I don't think I have tasted anything as bad as the leaf. I flew away in terror and disgust. But I felt giddy and could not fly straight. I nearly crashed into my cousin. He buzzed at me in shock "Whoa fly! Look where are going. You nearly squished my eyes." I buzzed back "Sorry! Keep off those leaves man. They are toxic." I got outdoors and let the fresh air remove the toxins from my system. The smell and taste of the leaves stayed with me for some time. I avoided the plate of leaves since.

Like me, all the flies avoided the plates of leaves. The humans got frustrated with their leafy strategy. Soon, the plates of leaves disappeared from the tables. It did not make any difference for us. As I mentioned earlier, we did not go near the plates. So, we continued to hop from table to table, from plate to plate and the human hands continued to wave rhythmically. Life went back to the good old days. Just as I was getting used to normal life, something weird started happening. One day as I tried flying in from outside to inside, I found that I was blocked by a body of water. I could have sworn on my wings that there were no water bodies present at that location the previous day. I wondered how it appeared out of nowhere. I had never experienced anything like this before. I turned around, flew back a little, settled on a wall, shook my head, cleaned me eyes and started back again. Once again, I saw a water body block my path. I hovered a bit around the area, but the reflection of the sunlight from the water body started affecting my sight. I had to move away but this time instead of turning around, I moved to my right. After flying for some distance, I found that the water body had disappeared. I felt relieved. I got into the insides and saw my familiar world once again. I looked around the room and on the opposite side of the room I saw packets of water tied to openings in the room. I realized the reason for my confusion. The humans were up to their usual tricks. I shook my head in anger. I decided it was time to teach these humans a lesson. There was no point in being polite with these creatures. I looked around and found my destination - at the summit of a sambar soaked idli. I directed my flight path towards the idli and made a perfect landing right at its centre. Almost immediately, I heard the familiar refrain "Ayyo! Eeeeeeeeeeee".

This is not the end

The war has just begun

We will not rest

Till we sit on all your food

If you scream eeeee at us

We will swim in your tea

Since you threaten our existence

We will work against yours

By washing our hands and legs in filth

Before settling down on your food

ee aa ee aa oo

I

The Vowel Series - 'I'

I look at the mirror

I see a beautiful I 

I love what I see 

I love me

I know I am better than the other I's

In the morning I look to the east and

I see the sun rise for me

I get tired by evening and

I see the sun set for me

I wish for utter darkness and

I find the moon hiding its face

I wish for light during some nights and

I find the moon acceding to my wish

I walk into a room filled with people and

I can feel everyone's eyes set on me

I understand their need to hear my view

I have a refined sense of understanding 

I am forced to be the light in their lives

I am important in everybody's lives

I understand the emptiness in their lives without me

I look into the mirror and

I say "mirror mirror on the wall

I know I am the best I of all

I see that you smile in agreement"

Now,

I will tell you something interesting

I am sure you have never heard this before

All numbers and all alphabets come from I

Not all, but all the good ones.

You don't agree, you have doubts?

Let me prove!

A is two I's butting their heads

B is a buxom I

C, what do see with? With two I's, of course

D is an I with a large paunch

E is a dancing I 

F is dancing with E

G is C with an I

H is a sleeping I

I am I

J is an I kicking a basin

K is an I practicing karate

L is a sitting I

M represents conjoined quadruplet I's

N, conjoined triplets

O is a loser, who cares about O

P is an I drinking water from a cup

Q is O's cousin, another loser

R is an I drinking water from a cup with one leg sticking out

S  is for Satan, I refuse to talk about evil here

T is a top heavy I, building strong but basement weak

U, two I's balancing at the ends of a vessel

V, conjoined twins

W, conjoined quadruplet I's standing on their heads

X represents two I's at a crossroad

Y is a mother I with her two baby I's

Z is two I's sleeping on a bunker bed

I am tired but for your sake

I continue

1 is the numerical equivalent of I

2 is a peeing I

3, is like S, one half of Satan's number

4 is a nationalist, I fluttering the national flag

5 is an I playing the ghatam

6, the sporty I is kicking a football 

7, an I dancing like MJ in smooth criminal

8, conjoined 3's, more evil than evil

9, another sporty I, heading a football

0 means nothing to I

Now you know

I am everywhere

I am omnIpresent

I know everything

I make your lives better

I am here to guide you

I am perfect

I can't say no more

Gossip

He heard the phone ring
Saw the name on the display
A smile adorned his lips
He picked the call and said "Ennada!"
"Dei! Let's go for a tea!" said a voice
And he thought "let's go sip gossip sip by sip"

He went down the stairs and walked to the stall
At the entrance, he waited for his friend 
Who arrived on his bullet
They waved at each other 
As they entered the stall, he asked for two teas
They settled down to sip gossip sip by sip

As he sat down, he saw four flies
Having a conference on the black top of the table
He swatted away the flies but, in the process, blew away
The thick layer of dust that had settled on the table
He looked towards the master, impatiently
For he was eager to sip gossip sip by sip

A boy brought the glasses filled with the tea
And banged them on top of the table
The light brown liquid inside the glasses swirled
And tried unsuccessfully to get out their glassy prisons
They let the desperate liquid to settle down
Before picking up the glasses to sip gossip sip by sip

They sipped the tea from their respective glasses
And let the liquid flow down their oesophagus
The taste of the ginger laden sweet tea
Lingered in their tongues for eternity
"Creamy Hot Is the Tea, Romba Amazing!"
Said one of them as they continued to sip gossip sip by sip

The friend started off, by talking about his boss
Who wanted him to work, day and night
When he reminded the boss about work life balance
He laughed for long and responded
"Work-life imbalance leads to a good life"
They tch-tch-ed gravely as they sipped gossip sip by sip

Like his friend, he too had a gripe about his boss
"He likes to take all the credit for other's work
And throws a 'the boss is happy with your work' at us
Like the leftover bones thrown 
By someone to his or her dogs"
They saw the graveness of the world as the sips of gossip were sipped sip by sip

In this manner, flowed their talks
Discussing about their workplaces 
At times, they strayed towards old memories
When they struggled together
At their beloved workplace
The sips of gossip continued sip by sip

A thought struck him, out of the blue
"Is it possible that people in our team too
Think and talk about us, thus?"
The friend nodded his head and said gravely
"They do. I know. I have heard."
The sips of gossip turned bitter as one sip led to another

"I have been harsh on my teammates too
For the pressure of the project is such
That they are unable differentiate 
A Sunday from Wednesday"
The cup of tea no longer tasted sweet
For the sips of gossip turned bitter, sip by sip

Gossips are sips of events
Taking place in all our lives
It is not discussed with all
For only our friends can understand
How we feel about it
So go ahead and sip gossip sip by sip with your friends

Mr. Fifty Seven

Mr. Fifty Seven waiting by the side
Watching with a keen eye
At speakers as they speak
On topics of varying importance
His ears picking every word
And sending them to his brain
Which signals his head to nod in agreement

The tones of passion surrounding him
Elicit no reaction
His existence being forgotten by all till the fifty eighth minute
When out of nowhere, much to the shock of all
His hand goes up in air
Seeing which, the persons preparing to leave
Have their backsides frozen in midair
But oblivious of the state of the world that surrounds him
He continues to hold his hand up
Seeking permission to speak

On receiving an impatient "go ahead" from the chair
Mr. Fifty Seven starts rambling
About thoughts that possess him
Words turn into sentence and sentences to paragraphs
Continuing in this manner till a point
Where the people started believing that this will never end
But once again he surprises everyone
By saying, "that's all I have"
The end of the meeting was already delayed
By more than ten minutes
But before the impatient ones could budge
A voice responded to Mr. Fifty Seven's thoughts
Thus proceeded the meeting of the day
No different from the earlier ones.

The only wish that many posses
Is to see someone educating Mr. Fifty Seven 
On the existence of fifty seven minutes
Before the fifty eighth minute.

Staying off the field

He walked across the road towards the rock that was placed over the narrow open drain on the other side of the road. He had never wondered why the rock was placed thus over the drain. Nor did he wonder where the rock had come from. There were no rocks in the vicinity. Did someone get the rock from the western ghats? Or was it found under the ground when the buildings were built? None knew nor cared to know. When he reached the rock, he turned around and started running diagonally across the road. The stone that represented the wicket at the non-striker's end was seven metres away. As he reached it, he sprung in the air and moved is right arm in a curve. When his arm was vertically above him, he released the rubber ball that he held in his palm. He looked in the direction of the ball. It bounced on the ground and flew towards the batter, who tapped it gently. The balled rolled towards a fielder who appreciated the bowler as he threw the ball back towards him. He caught the ball, turned around and walked towards the rock. He wished he could rub the ball on his pants, like Kapil Dev or Madhanlal, but he had realized some months ago that it was pointless to do so with a rubber ball.

He was 10 when he had shifted to Bombay. It had taken him six months to learn Hindi and to make friends. Since that time, he played cricket in the evenings. His days of playing games only started when he reached Bombay. At school, during the games period, the children played a game called langda. It was a team game where a catcher, hopping on one leg, tries to catch members of the opposite team. He was not very good at the game. Neither could he hop well nor run quickly. At the end of every games period, he ended being the worst player - the first one to get out and the only one who could not catch any member of the opposite team. Soon, no one wanted him to play in their team. Fortunately, he fared a little better in cricket. He took wickets regularly and scored a few runs too. 

As the months passed, the children lost their interest in cricket. They spent their evenings walking around and talking about books and movies. He liked spending time with them but on some evenings, he preferred to sit at home and read a Hardy Boys or Nancy Drew novel. One day, someone in the group suggested that they should start playing hockey. The boys went into the bushes to get sticks that could be used as a hockey bat. Soon the group started playing hockey on the road with their respective sticks and a rubber ball. Within a few days, other kids joined the group and the game became serious. One day, during the selection of the team, there were odd number of kids and one of them had to be left out. Everyone decided that he was the weakest player among the group and he should sit outside. Even his friends from the cricketing days did not want him to be a part of the game. He felt crushed. He did not have many friends and on that day, he felt he had lost all of them. He felt tears rolling down his cheeks. He did not want others to see him crying. He turned around and walked away. His old friends noticed him walking away with his head hung low.

Next day, he was invited with enthusiasm and the boys gave him a spot in one of the teams. He played for the next few days but he soon realized that he did not play well and did not receive many passes. One day, he stopped playing. He sat by the road and watched the others play. Many days he preferred to stay at home. Sometimes when his group of friends played hide and seek, he took part in it. But the experiences at the school and near his home made him lose interest in sports. Apparently, playing well is important to make friends and the distance he maintained from sport resulted in him not having many friends. 

When he was 14, he moved back to Madras. His school in Madras did not have a games field. He felt happy about this. For many years he believed that this was the reason for his having a lot more friends in Madras than he had in Bombay. He did not play when he came back home from school. Instead, he spent his time with his family. As time passed, he stopped playing any game. He did not want to be a part of competition that was an integral part of sports. The insult and the loneliness felt by a person who is at the end of the line was only known to those who were constantly at the end of the line. 

Fortunately, for him he could make the world believe that he was intelligent. At 21, he realized that brain power had its advantage and that there were many people on the planet who supported brain power over muscle power. The 20 or 25 cricketers in the Indian team were an exception. He looked back with contempt at all those fellows who had kept him away from their teams owing to his inability to play well.

All through his life, people continued to coax him to be a part of some game or other. Sometimes he gave in. But at most times, he hummed the lines from the song "The Winner takes it all" by ABBA.

The winner takes it all

The loser's standing small

Beside the victory

That's her destiny

Only the loser knows the pain and humiliation of losing. So here is an ode from a world class loser to all you bloody winners.

We can't win and we don't mind losing

But one thing we certainly don't want 

A place at the end of the line

The winners never remember the spirit of the game

When they look at us, the residents of the end of the line

For us, the sporting arena or a games field

Is just a piece of land where we will be shoved to the end

But every other part of the world's available for us

And we will live here with a lot more happiness

Than we will ever get in a games field

So do us a favour and don't bother to invite us

To your bloodless battleground

NOTE: Many of the events described here are set in the 80's but it holds true even now. I have seen it with my own eyes. 

A prayer for the prey

With pride did the pride look at their prey

Lying in the middle, praying to not be preyed upon

But on this day no one cared for such prayers

For the members of the pride were clear

They could wait no more

A nod from the wise one of the pride was enough

For the baby of the pride to pick up the prey

Almost immediately, he started uttering mysterious words 

Words that would be incomprehensible if reproduced here

The wise lion and the two lionesses listened intently

Intermittently nodding their heads in agreement 

The old fox felt differently though

He stared at the trees in the distance and wondered

"What that hell am I doing in a Pride? 

Should I not be in a skulk? Where is my skulk?"

He had been living with these thoughts for years

But had not done anything about it

The pride seemed happy to have him in the midst

Though they did not understand much of his doings and sayings

They appreciated his actions profusely

With the passing of time, the fox started believing

That he was more a lion than a fox

The fox's attention came back to the present 

When he heard the others utter in unison "Technique?"

He wondered why the word had captured their attention

Out of the blue the pride pounced on the prey

And started tearing it apart, shredding it into many pieces

Each member took away a piece and chewed on it

The wise lion chewed on "conflict"

While the healer lioness on "vocation"

The vocal lioness, enjoyed the taste of "blind faith"

While the baby of the pride started working on "existence"

The old fox had no pieces left 

He sat and stared at each member in the circle

He was bewildered by the fact 

That the prey could be torn apart thus

He had always thought that the prey had to remain whole

How can the prey torn apart thus be reassembled?

He felt disturbed by the fate of the prey

He sat back and prayed for the prey