Castaways

I am tempted to start this piece with a disclaimer that goes like this. Any similarity of the characters mentioned here to any living or dead being is purely coincidental. But that might not be true. There is a good possibility that everything mentioned here happened. I have been assured by the two tailed, four headed being that all this is true. "Parent promise man! Its all true. I have seen it all" said zvi. 

Doesn't that last sentence sound cheesy? I mean what the hell is 'parent promise'? Should it not be 'mother promise or father...' No, not father promise.  A father's head is not important enough to make a promises on. So, zv's 'parent promise' is the same as our human 'mother promise'. The next point of cheesiness comes from the use of the terms zvi and zv's. Here again I should say I am not responsible for the cheesiness. The two tailed and four handed being assured me that in zeid land zeo do not have genders and refer to each other and zvi, zv, zeid and zeo instead of he/she, his/her, their or they respectively. To top it, the four tailed and eight legged being threatened to obliterate the whole of humanity if I ever refer to zvr in any other manner. So, to save humanity I have no choice but use these 'z' words. That said, I will keep the usage of these 'z' words to the minimum.

By now, you are probably wondering how many legs, tails, hands, heads does this being have. That is a good point to wonder. I too wonder about it too. Hey man, this being is like an octopus with many projections projecting from its... Kabooom! Earth and humanity destroyed. The END. 

Ha, ha, ha! Just joking. The earth will only be destroyed if the creature finds out that I referred to zvi as it. Till then we are safe.

Anyway, I have no idea how many hand, legs, heads, tails and whatever else the being has. Actually, that is not important. The being's narration is important for it describes the events from our distant past that no one is aware of. But consume all this with a pinch of salt... Well maybe a spoonful of salt for it may all be nonsense - a figment of that being's imagination. But I don't like to believe it. It sound real and I tend to believe that this happened.

With that introduction and the apology of a disclaimer, let us get into the matter that was shared with me. Well! Actually, I don't think it is important to share it. I probably should not share it either. But I have become a person with an insatiable urge to share, to talk, to write. So I share here what I probably should not share. 

According to the being all that I mention below actually happened. Zvi witnessed it firsthand and it is not hearsay. Zvi was there. I asked the being “Were you hiding behind a tree when it happened?” The being, in turn, asked “What is a tree?” I pointed at a tree and said “That’s a tree!” The being responded “Oh! Maram!” At that point, I realized that the being had been talking to me in Malayalam all along. So, I asked the being the next obvious question “Naatillu evideya?”, which in English roughly translates to “Where in Kerala are you from?”. The being responded “O! Ente naadu orupaadu doorathilane”, which roughly translates to “Oh! My place is very far away.” This is becoming painful. I will continue in English but remember that this conversation happened in Malayalam, the language of Gods who originate from the land popularly referred to as God’s own country.

The being mentioned that zvi was around in plain sight but as his body only reflected infrared light, the humans present there could not see zv. Zvi had to only take care to not run into any of the humans present. All the humans present did not move but sat in their designated locations and talked. Note, the use of the word 'designated' in the previous sentence. The being used the Malayalam phrase 'Adhadhu sthanathil' meaning they sat in locations assigned to them, meaning there was an arrangement and the arrangement was like this. They were all sitting on different levels of a tower. At the top, near the centre of the topmost level sat a set of people. They sat on the floor but on one side of this set of people sat another set of people on chairs. They looked similar to the people sitting around the centre. On all four sides of the platform sat other sets of people. They all looked different from each other. It should be noted here that the being described the people in each of these sets vividly but I refrain from reproducing them here as it might not be considered politically and non-politically correct to do so.

Below the platform, there were other platforms with different sets of people sitting at different spots. The being spent many minutes describing each of these sets. I got impatient and said “I get the point, can we move on.” But the being said “No! It is important to describe them. Besides, you have nothing else to do. You are my prisoner, and I am your master.” Those words probably require some explanation, but I refrain from explaining. Maybe I will explain on  some other day. So, me being the prisoner and zi being the master had no choice but to sit and listen to the gory details.

Now, it is important to mention here that these events occurred 12200 years ago, around 10,000 BC/MC/BE/ME/Whatever. So, it happened a long time back and it is possible that some of the events did not happen the way I have mentioned it below. I told the being so. Zvi got offended and said “What! Do you think I am a human being to forget things. No! It happened the way I remember. It happened the way I recount. So here we go. Now shut up and listen. Do not interrupt."

The being continued thus. “I was sleeping and was woken up by the sound of drums. I walked towards the sound and soon found all these humans sitting at different levels of a multitiered tower. Actually, it is better to refer to them as men as there were no women there. Soon the beating of the drums ceased and the man sitting at the centre of the top platform got up and started talking. Hmm, why is your hand up? I thought I mentioned that I did not want to be interrupted.”

“You did. But I have a question.”

“Can’t you hold on to the questions till the end?”

“Some I can but a few need an immediate response.”

“Ask!”

“Where were you?”

“Come on! How is that important?”

“That will help me in understanding the perspective.”

“What perspective?”

“Well! If you were outside the crowd, and not in the tower at all, you would have the perspective of a member of the audience. You will have the view of the people around, their expressions, their interest or lack of interest, their involvement and so on. This would mean that your perspective would be broad. But if you were a part of the people in the tower itself your perspective would be limited to your location. Your perspective would be influenced by the people who surround you and that impacts your perspective”

“Hmmm! That’s interesting. I did not think of it in that manner. I was right at the top. As the drum were being beaten, I made my way to the top of the tower. I knew the humans could not see me. So, I only had to make sure that I did not run into them. Anyway, getting back to the events. The man at the centre announced loudly. ‘It is time! The time has come! It has become important for us to name ourselves. There are too many of us with many differences existing between many of us. Some of us have a lot of similarities but many of us are too dissimilar. If we do not separate ourselves based on our similarities, these will disappear, and soon we will all be the same. That should not happen because some of the dissimilarities are important, and we should not dilute them by intermixing. For that reason, we have separated people according to the importance of their qualities and made them sit at different levels of this marvelous tower. Please don’t think of these qualities as good or bad. No! That is not the point. We are only considering the relative importance of these qualities to our society.’

It would not be wrong to say that on hearing these words I nearly fell off the platform. These were the most nonsensical words that I have heard in my life and mind you I was not young at that point and I had heard a lot of words, even nonsensical ones by then. But these were worst I had heard till that point of time, that is. Since then I have heard worse words. But it was never my business to interfere. So I continued to listen quietly. The man continued.

‘We are people right at the top and we are higher than the remaining. So we will call ourselves Higher.’ Hearing this a man from another group sitting on the top platform got up and announced ‘We are not only higher but we have beautiful names and so we will be referred to as Namebeauties.’ I sniggered for it sounded ridiculous but the ridiculousness of the name was lost on the men present. They aw-ed and wowed and someone in the crowd mentioned ‘Not only are their names beautiful, they themselves are Namebeauties. Wow! Waah! Aah!’ Soon, a man sitting on a chair got up and said ‘We sit on a chair at all times, it is our car and so we shall call ourselves Highercars’."

"What! Why are you raising your hand now?”

“I thought you spoke and understood only Malayalam, but this is all in English. Also, more disturbing is the fact that English was not spoken in this land at that time. So, this does not make sense!”

“Are you saying that I am lying?”

“No, no. That is not what I meant. I am only saying that it does not make sense.”

“You are being very literal. Get to the next plane, prisoner. Language is a tool used to communicate. It is used to express one’s thoughts effectively. Depending on the intent and need one can change the language used to communicate a thought. I don’t think you understand the intent of my narration and that is why you are objecting to the use of language. You are being too literal.”

“Hmmm! Ok! Nevermind, continue.”

“I will not explain this further. I am continuing with the narration. Another man whose upper body was covered with a cloth announced 'We always wear shirts and so we will call ourselves Shirtma.' Another said 'We have shirts but have no idea where they are and so we will call ourselves Wherema.' Yet another said 'We are gods who can't hep but chatter all the time and so we will call ourselves ChatterGs.' From a corner a man jumped up and shouted ‘We are near the top and so we will call ourselves Nears.’ Another man sitting on a chair in a group besides the Nears got up and said ‘… and we Nearcars’. Not to be outdone by other, a person sitting in a group close by announced 'We are near the top and do all the work. So we shall be referred to as Neardos”

Well, zvi continued in this manner for many hours. Naming and giving the reasons for the names. It was excruciatingly painful to sit through the whole narration, and it is worse to write it all down here. So, I will not go into the remaining details. I am sure everyone understands how the process continued. But I would like to mention one final point that the being mentioned about the process.

“As the naming process reached the groups in the lower platforms, the men sitting on the higher platforms lost interest and started talking to each other. One of them mentioned, ‘It is not like we will ever interact with those fellows. So, why should we know their names? We will simply refer to them as ‘Hey you’. Instead of listening to them, let us talk about other important matters.’ This meant that no one listened to the naming process of the groups on the lower platforms. When these groups realized that no one was listening and that their own voices were drowned in the noise created by others, they stopped the naming process. They decided to remain nameless and became voice-less.”

Catnap

 Is that cat dead?

Maybe its sleeping!

In the middle of the road?

Maybe it's tired.

Must be really tired!

Maybe it is!

It's dangerous.

Maybe it isnt!

Oh, it sure is.

Maybe it is.

It's Schrodinger's cat.

Maybe not.

It could be dead or not.

Maybe it's sleeping

One would never know.

Maybe so.

Must have been hit.

Maybe not!

By a car!

Maybe...

Should we check?

Maybe we should. 

Nah! Let it be!

Maybe that's good!

Let it remain Schrodingers cat.

OK

Fascinating is the thought  That it's alright It's all okay Everything's A-OK. But don't expect to be ok All the time. In fact, you won't be ok Most of the time.  But it's still ok To think life's ok. To believe life's ok As a little bit of okness Is all it takes  For you to feel ok. Ok? Ok, you got it ok I hope.

But!

I am not ok

With my being not ok

At all times.

If something's not ok

I think about it 

All the time

Making my oks

Not ok.

My life becomes 

Not totally ok

No, that's not ok!

My life becomes

Totally not ok,

Completely not ok.

Shockay, chokay ok.

And that is not ok

I need to be ok All the time!

Someone help me please

To become ok!

Mickey

 

Mickey at 28  Lies there in wait To discover his mate. But Minnie's not in sight. She's at her work place, onsite And works there right through the night In the morning, she sleeps to make it alright But Mickey is fortunate to not share her plight He is not living a life filled with struggle and fight. There he stands at a crosswalk, on a day that's bright With his stomach filled to the brim on his sumptuous diet A man comes by donned in a pair of shoes of colour blue light Looking up, Mickey finds the man extending to from him to heights, infinite But Mickey did not know the man was nothing but an empty shell of size finite.

Ice-capades

Left, right Don't slip Get a grip Left, woah, right Stop, that was close  Wait,  wait, wait Weigh your next step Where's the spot? Spotted it! There! Left... Nooo, right.  Oh no! Thud! My ass' on ice Cold seeps to my genes Right through my jeans Should get up But how? Maybe, just maybe That rock can help Slide, slide, slide Hold the rock. Rise, rise, woah, rise Hold that rock Left, right, left Oops, right, woah Nooo, thud There goes my ass Kissing the ice For the fifth time 

Salty cooks

 He picked the call and said "Hey, what a surprise!" She responded "I need blood." He did not quite know how to respond. So he asked "What, you are turning into a vampire?" She laughed  and said "Last weekend I was watching Lokah and I had a premonition that I will be hungry for blood." He responded "Oh! Shouldn't I be concerned about this. What happened?" Once again she laughed and said "No, it's best to keep it light.  The baby sucked off a lot of my blood and now i am hunting the blood banks for O positive blood."  He laughed and said "Oh! O positive like Neeli." She corrected him "Neeli preferred O negative." He said "Ah ok! I don't remember. Hey, BTW I am O positive. Which hospital should I come?" She asked "What did you drink last night?" He responded promptly "Scotch, four pegs, on the rocks." She said "Oye bevde! I don't want my baby to be born drunk. He will be like Obelix, only high, not strong." He felt disappointed "Damn! You should have informed me yesterday then ..." She interjected "Listen I did not plan this shit, ok? My maid found me unconscious on my bed this morning  and brought me to the hospital." He felt shocked. He asked "Why can't you stay with your mother? This is dangerous." She responded "No. Just two more months. My parents will eat my head if I go there. This is fine. My maid will take care. Before I forget, please send your non-bevda trustworthy O positive friends. I need blood." He agreed "Ok. Send me the hospital's address.  I will come by." "Sure, sure. Ok. Gotta go" she said before cutting the call.

He shook his head and said "That girl will kill herself if she does not watch out." He looked up and saw the cook add a small spoonful of salt into the vessel of sambhar. He spontaneously shouted "Be careful with the salt." The cook turned around and looked at him menacingly. She said "Why are you telling me that? Are you telling me that the food I make is salty." He cursed silently and said " No, no. That is not what I meant. It is good to be careful with salt." She protested "I know that and I am always careful with the salt." He had no choice but to back off further "I don't mean you add too much salt. I am just asking you to be careful." She did not let go of the topic. "Do you say this to that cook who comes in the morning?" He became defensive " Of course, I told her the other day when she was making the kootu kari." She was livid by this time. "Have you seen the way she cleans the vessel? Look at this." He felt nervous seeing her walk toward him with a knife in hand. He said "What is it? Why do have the knife?" She extended a cooker whistle and started poking it's insides with the knife. She took out the knife and extended it toward him saying "Look at this. Rice! How old do you think this rice is?" He could not help but ask "From the Sangam era maybe?" His wife, who was observing the scene from a distance reminded him "This is not the time to act smart. She has a knife in her hand." She then looked towards the cook and said "It is ok ma. We will ask her to the wash properly tomorrow." But the cook was not convinced "She will not wash well. She is always in a hurry. I will do it."

Thirty minutes later she brought each of the washed vessel to him for inspection. Every time she said "See how clean this is? Does she clean like this?" Every time he said "It's clean, it's clean. You don't have to show it all to me." But she spent nearly 15 minutes showing each vessel and he had no choice but to inspect and comment on each of them.  When she had displayed all her achievements, she left abruptly. He looked at his wife and asked "What's wrong with her?" She responded "Well, she proved her worth with salt." He said "I don't understand what you mean." She agreed "Nor do I."

The next morning, he was reading the morning newspaper when his wife walked up to him holding a small flower vase. She asked "Where did you get this?" He responded "Your mother gave it saying that it was a gift you received from a friend. She discovered it when she was cleaning the house." She looked at the vase with disgust and said "Friend! What friend! The fellow was trying to propose to me." He put down the paper "What? Who? When?" She said "Relax! This happened in college many years back. He was junior. I told him he is barking up the wrong tree." He felt irritated "Barking up the wrong tree! Where do you get such phrases from? Its all those P G Wodehouses that you read." She clarified "I mean I said I was not interested." He said "I know." She said "You don't have to bring P G Wodehouse into this." The door bell rang before he could respond. She opened the door and the morning cook walked in angrily.

The cook stared angrily at him and asked "Why are you telling everyone that I cook badly? You could have told me directly if you had an issue." He looked at her blankly and said "I did not tell anyone that you cook badly." She countered "The watchman told me." His confusion increased "I have never talked to the watchman about your cooking." She said "He told me just now. He was supposed to get me a new job but he said that he will not as you said I don't cook well." He protested "I have never talked to the watchman about you or your cooking." She persisted "But you told the evening cook that and she told the watchman." 

"I have never talked to the evening cook about your cooking."
"You did yesterday."
"No, I did not."
"You did. The watchman told me."
"Now, how can the watchman know that?"
"Well, he told me that the evening cook told him that you told her that I cook badly."
"What! There are too many tolds in what you said. Explain clearly who said what to whom."
"What?"
"What exactly did the watchman tell you?"
"He said that you told the evening cook that I cook badly."
"I did not tell her that. End of story."
"But you said I put too much salt in the kootu curry."

He struck his palm on his head in frustration and asked "Why did you not tell that earlier?"
"Ah! So you did tell her that?"
"No, I did not!"
"But you just said you did."

"No, I did not. I asked why you had not said so earlier. That does not mean I told the evening cook that you added too much salt to the kootu curry. Wait, let me tell you what happened." He spent the next minute in recounting the incidents of the previous evening. He wisely left out the part about the evening cook complaining about the morning cook's inability to wash vessels properly. At the end of the narration, the cook said "So, this is what happened! That evil lady changed the whole story. I will not let this pass. I am going to give her a good shouting. Wait! I will get the watchman. You tell him the story. Please, I want that new job." She walked out of the house to get the watchman. He looked at his wife who was laughing at him and said "Don't laugh!" She responded "But this is funny. You have to talk to the watchman and in the evening you have to talk to the cook who will once again talk to the watchman who will talk to this cook and this story will never end." Once again he struck his palm on his forehead and said "What nonsense is this! Let us get rid of all these cooks. I will cook from now on." She agreed "That is a good idea. That way you can control the salt in the food."

Taps!

Tap, tap, tap
Who taps?
Taps!

Who taps?

We Taps!

Tap?

No, Tap, Tap and Tap.

We Taps!

Oh! Ah! Taps!

Yes, Taps!

But here?

Yes, here.

Right here?

Right by Target. 

Taps?

Yap, Taps.

But, what you doing here?

Tap-tapping you.

Can I tap you back?

Yeah tap us.

But, I would rather pat.

Not too hard we hope.

A little hard?

No!

If not, pat becomes tap

We are Taps.

So?

So tap and don't pat.

Tap, tap, tap!

In my head

I don't remember why... No! I remember now. We were talking about having an AI/Tech themed Halloween this year. I wondered how it will be to have a poster of a robotic skeleton rise from its grave. Now, that we live in a world where imagination is not limited to one's head, I immediately realized this thought on 'paper'. I opened ChatGPT and asked it to create an illustration on this theme. It thought for a few minutes and came up with an illustration.

It was not bad but it was not impressive. It looked like a version of terminator. Inside my head I only had the picture of a metallic skeleton arm protruding from a grave marked by a grave stone. This illustration did not even have a grave stone. I was disappointed but was not interested in refining the illustration. Interestingly, something else caught my attention.

Underneath, the illustration ChatGPT volunteered to provide captions. I accepted the offer and soon, ChatGPT gave captions in the following flavours.

1. Dramatic / Cinematic
2. Philosophical / Futuristic
3. Minimalist / Chilling
4. Tech-Horror Style
5. Poetic / Symbolic

The captions sounded interesting. They seemed poetic. It reminded me of lines from the song 'Iron man' by Black Sabbath. I looked at the lines for a few seconds and rearranged them. The resulting lines looked like this.

Born of metal,
Buried in silence,
Awakened by code.
When machines learn to defy death,
Even the dead circuits remember their code.
From the ashes of silicon, it rises again.
Resurrection: Version 2.0!

A few days later my dark life turned darker. No, that's not it. My life's not dark. There is much to be hopeful for but large parts of it was filled with darkness. Usually light eats into darkness but inside my head darkness chews into the light. So at all points of time happiness and excitement gets shadowed by darkness. 

After a good day, I woke up the next day to a set of painful reminders from the great beyond. I felt so frustrated and tired that the ghost of Layne Stanley got into to me. This probably resulted in the following lines. 

I am in the dumps 

And yet i laugh

Being silly

Making others laugh

And through it all

I remember

My life's a dump

With unknowns

Popping in all the time

And knowns turning

Unknown all the time

Isn't it a joke? 

Isn't it funny?

- Chained Alice 

Chippy chirps

Note from the writer: The views presented below are not the writer's. The writer is only recording some of the traumatic words that he underwent a few days back. Of course, not everything mentioned below are uttered by the utterer but some of them are. As a result, the writer believed that these words had to be saved for the posteriety to remember that such people existed. The writer wishes to add that such people existed, they exist now and they will continue to exist. So don't be traumatized by their words!

Once I was sitting under a tree. What? No, it was not a mango tree. This is US, not India. There are no mango trees here. What you mean there are mango trees here? Oh! Never mind. I mean I have never seen a mango tree in America. So, no it was not a mango tree. What? What do you mean which tree? I have no idea which tree it was. This happened 15 years back. So even if I knew which tree it was, I would not remember it. Besides I am not a zoologist. What now? What do you mean zoologist study animals and not trees? I mean isn't that what I said? I am not a zoologist. You saying the same, which means we agree. Why are you interrupting me? I am saying something important here. Something meaningful. Do not interrupt me. Let me go on, ok? Ok.

As I was saying I was sitting under a tree. Maybe it was an oak tree. What? I should not guess the tree. Ok, I won't. Ok? You happy? It was a tree, some tree, any tree, ok? Ok. Anyway, I was sitting under a tree. Actually more like lying down when a thought struck me. Not literally. I mean it was not like a ball striking me. It was just a thought that occured to me. From out of nowhere. Literally out of nowhere I got the thought that I prefer to work with Tamlyans. They are better to work with than any other people on this planet. You want to know why? Yes? Say yes, ok? Ok. You know why I prefer to work with Tamlyans? Because they are not troublemakers.  I trust those Tamlyans. You know what they say about the Tamlyans in this country? You don't? I will tell you what they say. They say "We trust the Tamlyans as they will not steal our land, our money or our women? We trust them." They don't trust no Punjabi hunks like me. But they trust the Tamlyan. That's why I too trust the Tamlyan. 

Yeah, ok? OK! Let us talk about business now. Blah, blah, blah, cost, blah, blah, blah, skill, blah, ...

Wait a minute! I got to tell you this. The Prime minister of India sent my wife a Happy Independece Day email. But he did not send it to me. I know, I know, I know he did not send it personally. It is sent by one of those Indian Government departments but it is signed Narendra Modi. He sent it to her and not to me. What? I have no idea if she signed into some Indian government website or not. But how can it be dependent on signing up in websites? I am as much as Indian as she is. So I should receive the Happy Independence Day mail with the prime minister's signature too. I know, I know, I know we are American citizens but we are Indians too. So, it is my independence day too and I should receive the mail too. It's unfair that only she got it and not me. Oh! Never mind, let us get back to business.

Blah, blah, blah, ...

So, guys send me the information about your company and I will see how we can work together. I know a lot of people at high places because they all belong to a particular religion. You know what I mean. So, I will go to the people in the high places and make sure you guys get a lot of business. I love you guys. I really want to work with Tamlyans like you. Yeah? OK? Cool! You guys have a good one. Take it easy! 

A series of thoughts and events

I don't like sitting through meetings. Meetings have too many people talking for too long on matters that don't deserve that much time. I once asked a professor why he chose to be a professor. He responded "I guess I like to hear me speaking". That is true for people who speak regularly during meetings. I once wrote about a person who starts speaking 5 minutes before the planned end time of the meeting and went on for 20 minutes. I guess he was obsessed at having the last word. Unfortunately his last word contained too many words and most of us did not listen to a word of what he said. It gives me great happiness to say that I no longer work with him. 

This write-up took birth in a meeting. As is usually the case, 10 minutes into the meeting, boredom set in. It was an event where emotions were flowing around profusely and it would have been rude for me to look at social media on my mobile. So I opened the small notepad that lay in front of me and scribbled some words. This usually is good tactic as people end up thinking I am noting down points from the meeting itself. I have used this technique successfully for many years. At the end of the meeting a friend looked at the writing pad and said "What is this? This does not make sense. I thought you were noting down point for your own talk". She did not realize i did not need pen and paper to talk in front of a disinterested audience who had no choice but act interested in the nonsense I spoke. But that is not the only mistake she made. The words on the paper did make sense. I tried and the words in such a manner that they made sense. Well, you can check it for yourself a little later. 

I wrote those words down in the form poems. Here, I think it is good to make clear my definition of a poem. It's a piece of writing which does not involve sentences or grammer and has a fair bit of jumbling of words. After writing it, I review it and modify it by chanting or singing it in some rythm. When the rythm satisfies me, I declare that piece of written work as a poem. I have written many such poems to no acclaim!

The first two poems were written on the writing pad during the meeting. Of course, they have changed a bit since as a result of the review process mentioned above.  The thought behind this first one is the frustrating repetetiveness of life. 

When the sky learns

That it can't fall

It starts looking up

But what does it look at?

It can't be the sky

For how can the sky

Look up at the sky?

But think about it

Maybe it is the sky

That the sky looks up to

For what exists above?

Isn't it the sky?

So what can be concluded?

Even if it is the sky

Only sky exists above

Sky above sky above sky

That is how it is.

I wanted to play around with words that sound the same but have different meaning. I think this poem is inspired by Crazy Mohan's line about meen/mean in Michael Madana Kama Rajan. I wrote 7 lines of this poem in the meeting, the last 3 of which was absolute nonsense. So I removed them and filled it up with other lines later. I referred to the internet to find the set of words that sound the same. Such words are called homophones.

Maybe it is not right to write

Words that mean mean

For it can be seen as a scene

Best avoided to not lose a piece of peace

Best avoided to not find yourself fined

For you might end up feeling the fare is not fair

Similar to the the pain of walking through a pane

Where the rain of glass bring a reign of terror 

Making one to pray to not be a prey

And bear it all with bare guts

Till I wear a "where am I" look

For I can only see a sea of glass pieces

As I peek down from the confusing peak

Turning my face red as I read

All that I write that's not right

I better stop this course in coarse

Everyday, I drive by an open graveyard as I go to and come back from my office. I love graveyards. One of my fondest memories from my school days was walking through a graveyard on my way home. This one is not that memorable but driving through that road in the night always gives me ghostbumps. I once wrote a story about meeting a ghost during a ride back home. I am hoping that would be the climax for my first novel. This small poem is dedicated to the freshy laid road by the graveyard.

The road through the ghost land

Is laid fresh and black

Reflecting darkness of the ghosts around

White lines adorn the road's sides

Reflecting light go keep the ghosts at bay

For reasons beyond my comprehension, I am considered to be a person of immense intelligence by many around me. For reasons beyond my comprehension, I am annoyed by this. Out of this annoyance was born this poem.

I realized suddenly

That I am bright,

Profusely intelligent

As a result I thought

A thought about the moon

I am considered to be so bright

That if I were to say

That the moon

Is made out of butter

And not cheese

Everyone would agree.

They would say

Cheese! Please it's not cheese!

If it were cheese

Moon would be 

The house of mouse

But it's known to all

That no life exists

On the buttery moon.

But I would never say so 

For if I do, people would believe it

Causing confusing

A big problem

For on a sunny day

When it's really hot

They would wait

With buckets in their hands

For the butter to melt

And pour down as ghee

So, I play it down

Stay below the radar

Linger near earth's surface

Avoiding notice of people

To avoid being identified

For my brightness

And my intelligence

Yet not being identified

As unintelligent

Just existing by being invisible.

There is an element of suspense in the next poem and so I have decided to introduct the poem after the poem. In this case, I guess I have turned the introduction into a post-production!

Should I say yes

or just say no?

Too late to ask

I said yes, many years back.

Was it a mistake?

Should I have said no?

Maybe yes but maybe no

Floor 12 could have been worse

Maybe I would have jumped

Instead of wondering if I should 

Stop that cat

Let it not cross my path

But no one did anything

No one was listening

No one could hear me anyway

For I did not say it aloud

It was running in my mind.

That cat is not black

But its white with black

Or maybe black with white

Either way, it's got black

Is any black unlucky 

Or should it be all black?

Should I turn around?

I can't afford bad luck any more

But it just got worse

It's not a cat or a dog

Nor a mouse or a bandicoot

I wish it was a bird

Or a simple earthworm

But it was none of that

It was that wriggly creature

Moving across my path

As a sequence of S's

No wonder they are named ssssssnake

This small one wriggled

Right in front

Escaping from the folds of here

To the greens of there

In search of what I know not

But a question rises

Is a snake crossing my path

Considered lucky?

If not, how unlucky is it?

Will I survive the day?

Will I survive the humans?

Will I be able to write this?

Will I be able to publish?

All question and unsurety

On this day, this morning

When a small snake 

Crossed my path

Most unexpectedly

I go for a walk around my complex everyday. At two places, the path lies between the entry/exit of the basement car park on one side and plants on the other side. I always walk through that path nervously, wondering what I should do if a snake appears in my path. One morning, that snake appeared a couple of feet ahead of me. But before I could jump out of my skin the snake slid away into the bushes to my right. I can't help but mention here that it is the snake that usually jumps out of its skin and yet in this case I jumped out of my skin or didn't. Anyway, the snake crossing my path made me wonder if this too is considered to be unlucky like a black cat crossing my path. I mean, I don't care but I wonder still.

ULLULLULLULLULLULLULLU…

She walked into the new apartment happily. Unlike the earlier ground floor apartment, this one provided a bird’s eye view of the world from the balconies. The apartment had three bedrooms. The third bedroom, a spacious and well-lit room, became a guest room kam TV room jyada. It seemed like a perfectly secluded space for her to chill. To make matter perfecter her own room was opposite to it. 

This was not her first visit to the apartment. She had visited it many times with her mother. Many of the ideas and colours within the apartment came from her head. So it was not all a new experience and yet this day was different. On this day, the apartment became her home. 

She walked into her room and looked around it. It was almost perfect. She only had one complaint. She wished the bed was wider. But a wider bed would have made the room seem smaller. Besides she did not need a wider bed and yet it would have been good to roll around in her sleep on a wider bed, though she was not much of rolling around in her sleep kind of person… She stopped the thoughts in its track. She tightened her fist and told herself “You have to stop this habit of finding problems where none exists. Though a wider bed would have been nice, I don’t need a wider bed and now the room has enough room around the bed. So why are you cribbing? I am not cribbing. Yes, you were. I was just thinking. Don’t think. You think this room is perfect? Yes, it is. You don’t find issues with it? No, I don’t. Ok, ok! I won’t too. Just stop. Ok, stopped. Thanks!” 

She stopped talking to herself and turned around to see her mother staring at her from the doorway. Her mother asked, “Are you talking to yourself?” She smiled sheepishly “The devil in me is finding faults in the room.” Her mother asked “… and what fault did the devil find?” She responded, “Should I have got a wider bed?” Her mother asked, “You planning to get married anytime soon?” She retorted “OK amma, I get it. I will stop.” Her mother did not let go of the idea though. “Hmmm! Maybe you will get married when you are in this house. But at that time, we can get a wider bed for the two of you.” She retorted again “Amma. Stop it. I am not getting married. Not now, not ever.” Her mother walked away saying “We will see. We will see.” She gave herself a slap for having let the conversation lead on to the topic of marriage.

That night at the dining table, after dinner, her mother asked “So, you ok with sleeping in your narrow bed? Do you want to exchange rooms with us?” She looked at her mother angrily and said “Amma, stop it! I was only thinking. Actually, it was not even me. It was Phaedrus.” Her mother did not understand “Fedroos, who is Fedroos?” She waved her hand and said “Does not matter Amma. I am talking nonsense.” But by then both her parents became concerned about the existence of Phaedrus. Her father persisted “Who is Fedrus? Should we be concerned about this fellow?” She cursed herself for having uttered the name Phaedrus “Acha, Amma, it is a character from a book. I don’t know any Phaedrus.” They continued to look at her suspiciously. She got up from the table and said “I am going to sleep. Good night”. Her father called out “Why are you running away?” She turned around, looked at him and said “Acha! I will get that book tomorrow, but you have to read it fully. To ensure that you are reading it, I will have a viva session with you every morning.” Her father waved his hands and said “Ok, ok. Never mind. I trust you. I am not in a mood to read any crazy books.” She felt offended but did not bother to continue the discussion. 

When she walked into her bedroom, she realized that her parents’ bedroom was at some distance from hers. In the earlier apartment, the two rooms were right next to each other. She turned around and looked through the door at the TV room. It was dark and empty. She shook away the dark thoughts in her head by closing the door of her room. She looked around at the room and felt safe once again.

She sat at the edge of the bed and looked around. She decided again that she liked the room. It seemed large and cozy. She looked back at her bed and thought it was just the right size; not too small, not too big. She switched off the lights and lay down on the bed. She looked at the glow-in-dark stickers of the moon and stars stuck on the ceiling. She had hoped to grow out of fascination for these stickers as she grew but it did not happen. She spent a good two hours planning and sticking these stickers on the ceiling two weeks back. At that time, she had wondered if she was wasting her time sticking these stickers but now looking up at the ceiling, she understood that it was well spent. 

At some point, she must have fallen asleep because something shook her out of her sleep. She sat up and looked around at the unfamiliar room. It took her a moment to realize that this was her room in the new apartment. Other than the hum of the AC, the night was quiet. She wondered what had woken her up. She wondered if she had a nightmare. She did not remember. She lay down on the bed and tried to go back to sleep.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa, Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa, Aaaaaayyyeeeeeeeeaaaaa”

She remembered what had woken her up earlier. She shivered in fear. When quietness landed back into the night, it did not last for long. The faint sound of a bell ringing broke the silence of the night.  Her fear increased. She gave out a small scream and covered her head with the blanket and closed her eyes. 

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa, Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa, Aaaaaayyyeeeeeeeeaaaaa”

This time, she jumped out of the bed and ran out of her room screaming “Ammmmmmaaaaaaaa”. As she reached her parents’ bedroom, her mother opened the door and called out her name. She asked “Amma, what was that?” In a voice drenched with fear her mother responded, “I don’t know.” Her father called out from the bed “Switch on the light”. The mother and daughter responded together “No!”. 

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa, Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa, Aaaaaayyyeeeeeeeeaaaaa”

The three people in the room screamed in unison. When they stopped screaming, they heard the faint ringing of a bell. She said, “Its coming from outside.” The mother said “Wait! Let me check from the balcony.” She held her mother’s hand and said “No!” Her mother said “Come on! We have to find out what’s happening.” The two of them walked towards the balcony door. Her mother unlocked the balcony door quietly. As she opened the door, the hinges of the door complained.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa, Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa, Aaaaaayyyeeeeeeeeaaaaa”

The mother and daughter held their mouths shut to keep from screaming. The ringing of the bells was louder now. They crouched and walked towards the parapet wall. When they reached the wall, they raised head slowly and looked down. 

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa, Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa, Aaaaaayyyeeeeeeeeaaaaa”

A woman decked in a red saree with a large red dot on her forehead let out the series of screams. Her head looked up at the sky and her eyes were opened wide. The mother and daughter nearly fainted on seeing the intensity on the woman’s face, but they held on to the parapet wall. The ringing of the bell came from the other side of the road. The spot lay hidden behind a tree. Four similarly dressed women walked behind her. They gently swayed to the rhythm of the bell. The mother and daughter watched the women intently. 

The mother and daughter started swaying their heads to the rhythm to the bell too. They watched the women in trance. They waited for the woman in the front to let out the series of deafening screams. A good dose of anticipation mixed with the fear that they felt inside them. The two of them looked at the woman at the front intently. Inside their heads they were egging her to let out the screams that had terrified them a few minutes back. 

But that did not happen.

Instead, the five women turned to their left and looked up at the mother and daughter and let out a deafening “ULLULLULLULLULLULLULLU…”

Yet another biriyani story returns - Cock fight

She opened the door and once again found her uncle standing there. He had a wicked smile plastered on his face. “There is a reason for my eating chickens” she said. They sat down around the dining table, and she started talking.

“There once lived a cock who was named Maranakothi. You might wonder why a cock was named Maramkothi, which in Malayalam means woodpecker...”

“Will you stop being so dramatic! I know what Maramkothi means. But why was the cock named Maramkothi?”

“You did not let me finish. It’s not Maramkothi, it's Maranakothi, which means deathly pecks. There was a reason for him to be named so. He pecked anyone and everyone in his vicinity. By vicinity I mean anyone who walked near the house that he thought belonged to him. He did not even spare the people who stayed in the house. My father was one such person. Even now his legs have marks left by Maranakothi. Every time Maranakothi saw my father, he chased my father and attempted to scratch and peck him. At most times, my father escaped the wild cock's acts of violence by getting a head start over him.” 

“He first scanned the area between the house and the gate for the menacing cock. If he found the area free of Maranakothi, he ran to the gate like P T Usha. At the same time, Maranakothi also scanned the same area, hiding in the side of the house, for a pair of running legs. As soon as he saw one, he raced towards them. My father says if Albert Uderzo had witnessed the scene, he would have illustrated it like a Roman soldier being chased by Asterix. On most occasions, my father escaped but this was more due to luck than skill or speed.”

“One evening, my father and the rest of the family gathered around the dining table to discuss the issue. My uncle started the discussion by slamming his fist on the table and shouting ‘Kill that cock’. My second uncle agreed ‘Give maranam to Maranakothi’. The three brothers repeated the slogan ‘Give maranam to Maranakothi’. Their mother did not agree ‘That poor cock. He is the forefather of many hens here. It's too active. That is all. Let us adjust and not kill that poor creature’. The eldest brother protested while showing his leg ‘What poor cock! Look at this wound. It pecked me at the same spot four times. At the same spot!’ His mother looked at the wound sadly and said ‘Maybe you should wear boots’. He retorted ‘Amma, don't be ridiculous. It's about time Maranakothi got into a biriyani pot’. Before his mother could protest, his father said ‘It’s too old. The meat will be tough and not fit for Biriyani. Let us make gravy’. Thus, Maranakothi was given the grave gravy judgement.”

“The next morning, my grandfather threw a handful of rice outside the door and waited with his three sons. Maranakothi appeared within a few minutes and started feeding on it. The three brothers pounced on Maranakothi but they were only able to catch each other's hands. The cock flew away but returned immediately to peck the three pair of hands. The three brothers disappeared into the house howling in pain. This scene was repeated intermittently for the next two months.”

“One day, my grandfather placed a bundle at the centre of the dining table and said, ‘Let us use this tomorrow’. Next morning, once again my grandfather threw a handful of rice outside the door. My grandmother muttered from behind the newspaper ‘We could have had a feast for the whole neighbourhood with all the rice that cock has eaten’. Maranakothi appeared and walked confidently towards the door. It seemed it had an arrogant smirk on his beak. He clucked ‘Another round of free food. These fools think they can get me in this manner. Today each of them will get two pecks’. He laughed arrogantly ‘Cluck, cluck, cluck, cluck’ and started pecking the rice off the ground. Suddenly, he noticed a shadow falling from above. Soon, a net materialized and enveloped him completely.”

“My grandfather shouted, ‘Get him’. The three brothers jumped on the cock and held it down. A bloody battle ensued and two hours later, Maranakothi lay as pieces in a vessel of curry. The brothers with scratches all over their faces and arms looked at it and each other happily. Thirty minutes later, Maranakothi had turned into a pile of bones being chewed by the neighbourhood dogs.”

“Hmm! That sounds like a sad story.”

“Wait a minute! The story does not end there. Two hours later, everyone other than the mother screamed ‘Ayoo’ from different parts of the house. They held their stomachs and writhed in pain. Everyone other than the mother, who refused to touch the dish, ended up with severe stomach issues for the next two days.”

“Ah! Maranakothi’s curse! Should you not keep away from chicken biriyani in that case?”

“No! It’s revenge. I hate those creatures. They are not fowls but only foul. Their destruction is my aim. So, get me a chicken biriyani anytime, every time.”

“But not mutton for goat’s cute, right?”

“Right!” 

Yet another biriyani story

She opened the door and found her uncle standing there. He had a wicked smile plastered on his face. He asked, “Where are you off to?” She replied, “To my grandmother’s place.” He asked “That’s one floor below. It seems like you are going outside.” She knew her uncle was teasing her and wanted to smile it away. Instead, she responded, “My other grandmother.” He acted as though the statement was a revelation “Oh! Your other grandmother.” He changed the topic “I am meeting a friend for lunch at Mount Road Bilal. Do you want me to get you some biriyani?” She closed her eyes to avoid him seeing the greed in her eyes. Two of his words struck a chord in her heart, stomach rather – Bilal and biriyani. Then, she remembered two other words. She opened her eyes and asked, “Mount Road one?” He responded, "Obviously! I am not going all the way to Akkarai.” 

Once again, she closed her eyes. This time she was trying to swallow her greed. She loved the food at her grandmother’s place. It tended to be exotic, but Mount Road Bilal biriyani was something else. Some people believed that if Emperor Akbar was alive, he would have ordered take-out from Mount Road Bilal at least once a week. Her thoughts wandered from Bilal and Akbar to how the food would have been delivered to the emperor. “Not through Zomato or Swiggy but through Zomugalo”. He interrupted her thoughts by asking “Why are you smiling?” She shook her head and said “Nothing, nothing. But I am going to my grandmother’s place.” His response was prompt “You said that earlier. But you can have it for dinner.”
“But I usually have dinner there.”
“But you will have lunch there.”
“Yeah, but I usually have dinner there.”
“Don’t have it today.”
“But I love the food there.”
“But you are having lunch there and for lunch you will have that good food anyway.”
“But they will want me to have food there.”
“Listen, we are talking about Bilal here. I could hear your thoughts behind those closed eyes. They were screaming Bilal.”
“Oh God! You are evil. Ok, get me a biriyani.”

Her mother shouted from behind “Only one biryani, ok?” He protested “You need one each.” She disagreed “Only one! We will share it. Can’t eat much at night.” “Alright! One mutton biriyani parcel” he announced grandly. His niece corrected “Chicken”. He looked at her shocked “Chicken! Mutton biriyani is the best. Chicken is a compromise.” She stood her ground “Chicken, not mutton.” He felt flabbergasted “But chicken is a bird.” But she did not budge “Chicken, not mutton”. He persisted “Chicken only has two legs”. She folded her hand and said nothing. He continued “It has wings.” She was getting frustrated, “Maama, only chicken biriyani.” He asked weakly “But why are you not having mutton biriyani?” She responded, “Goats are cute!” He did not know how to respond to it. Confused he asked, “But what has that got to do with mutton biriyani?” She felt annoyed “Mutton comes from goat and goats are cute!” He did not let go of the matter “Aren’t chickens cute?” She tightened her folded hands and said “No.” He did not hide his surprise when he asked “What! Haven’t you seen Chicken Run?” She realized she should have just turned down his offer for biriyani earlier “Maama! Don’t get me anything.” He backed off “Ok, ok. Oru chicken biriyani parsell.”

Late that night, she rang the bell of her grandparents’ house and waited. When her grandfather opened the door, she rushed in saying “Biriyani, biriyani, biriyani! Where is the biriyani?” Her uncle opened the fridge and took out a packet. He said to himself, “So, which one is chicken? Ah! This one! The other one has MB written on it.” She announced to everyone in the house “You know all the drama that I had to put to not have dinner there. I lay on the sofa holding my stomach for 15 minutes. To convince them further, I shut myself in the toilet for 15 minutes. I said ‘Ayo! My stomach’ some 20 times. Where is the biriyani? Give it to me now.” He handed her the biriyani. She said “Thank you! See you later” and skipped away.

Forty minutes later, he received a message from her mother, which said “Yummy biriyani!! Thanks a ton. I'm in heaven”