BAD DAYS

Between honking horns muffled through window panes, rooms dimly lit in the shadow of nearest buildings, Coffee machine-beeps resonate with the photocopier at the end of the alley, Phone bells breaking the monotony of mouse clicks and keyboard sounds, he sat there muted with a biscuit half eaten and half forgotten in his hand. A man lost inside his blue full sleeve shirt. A less updated version of his previous self. He was looking down the cubicle into infinity.

“Somedays are just worse than the others”. He said to the tea shop vendor who listened to him once in a while. “It is hard to differentiate the bad ones from the worse” he would laugh. Today was no different. He was the only one who didn’t say a word in the meeting. It was as if everyone expected him to say something and all he could do was stare at the window into the world outside. A pigeon had perched itself on one of the windows , bobbing its head and walking about at ease. ‘We should be as free as those bird” a fleeting thought was interrupted by a cup of tea. He couldn’t say anything. The meeting was over. He felt incompetent. Mediocre.

He sat there looking down the cubicle into infinity.

Rent - 20000Rs, Internet bill - 1400Rs, Electricity bill -1200 Rs, Kids school fee - 7000 Rs, Gas bill - 1000Rs, EMI for car - 34000 Rs, EMI for home-loan - 41000 Rs.

He looked outside the window. The pigeon was gone. “Its hard to differentiate the bad ones from the worse”.

Children

When a Khurdish Syrian kid's dead body washed ashore on a Turkish beach, When 30 young children died with the lack of Oxygen (denied by govt)cylinders in Uttar Pradesh. When 20 neo-natals died in Attapadi (over a period of two years) due to malnutrition, When 9028 children die because of no vaccination in the last 7 years. A kid came outside my car window with a national flag, the one which resembled wings that came out during our 50th year of Indian independence. I didn’t lower the windshield. She might be 6 years old or maybe seven. If she was in school she would be in second standard singing ‘Mein baadal ban jaaon’ (If i turn into a cloud...)

I don’t see her. She is transparent like the side window glass on my cab. She walked past me and got engulfed in a thicket of smoke from a truck behind. The irony of selling symbols of freedom to people trapped in metal cans with wheel.

When pollution alone kills 1.7 million children all over the world. (in a year )

Almost

Anonymous-What do you do ?

Man - I am doing something important.

Anonymous-How important ?

Man - Its important for me ... if that is what u mean ?

Anonymous-How important ?

Man - It gives me money. THAT important.

Anonymous-How important ?

Man - It makes me happy. THAT important.

Anonymous-That important ?

Man - Well almost.

Anonymous-Almost ?

Man - Almost…

Approachable

Every time she looked out someone was staring out of the white window on the other side of the road. She could see the rough outline of a man through the glass panes covered in the morning mist.  She opened her window in her morning pajamas and  sleeveless tank top with a coffee mug in her hand. The voyeur will now have a coffee-commercial image of her. She thought.

‘What if he is a handsome bachelor consumed by work and chanced to see her. What if he wants to make a move ?’ She looked around everywhere except the window. The morning truck was delivering mangoes to the shop downstairs. ‘ I should buy mangoes’

The coffee didn’t taste good. She had lost the habit of putting Sugar way back when she was in school but today it didn't taste that good. She walked into the kitchen and looked at the ice-cream pouch in the fridge. “I have already put on 3kg, maybe I should run. I will quit smoking this weekend’. She added sugar to her coffee shot and decided to light a cigarette.

The voyeur must have gone. She went to the window again and smoked a cigarette. “Somehow woman who smokes seems to be nicer and more approachable”  her ex boy friend had told her once in moments of an afterglow smokes. She hated what he said.

‘I will quit smoking this weekend’.  She finished her coffee and non-nonchalantly looked at the window. Definitely there was someone and she smiled at him.

PASSWORD

He was dressed in a suit. A fucking suit in this humid Bombay weather. I could see that he already had an upper hand over me. A suit over my ‘grey t-shirt and tethered jeans with a captain america colored sandals’. He had a tie too. I was sweating a bit less than usual but nevertheless I took my tissue and wiped my forehead. He looked like he was carved out of soap and the wrinkles added to give character. ”Hope I am not too late ?” He spoke with a tone that demanded respect. ”No , I saw you walk in , i had a hard time crossing this road” I smiled like a servant who wanted a raise. “You want to order something ? Cappuccino or Espresso or something ?” “I will order a black tea. Put more sugar or give an extra bag” He sat down and took his iPad out. He kept staring at it as the waiter took the order. My smartphone searched for free WiFi and i was embarrassed to ask for password. What would he think of me ? He looked up at the waiter “ Free wifi ... what is your passowrd” with a lot of confidence The waiter replied with a smile “coffeeandbiscuits@123” He connected , I connected and we connected . ‘So krishand about your project ....” we spoke for a long time.

GODS and GODDESSES

Six stone idols were made from a large rock mountain in Irunutty (South Malabar).

Two female and four male.

One of the goddess was stolen and was lost for several years.

Men went looking for it.

Some say they have seen it in a mall in Sharjah (Saudi Arabia). Others say it is in a musuem in Paris.

The other goddess got herself a shrine and a thousand followers.

Hens travel all the way from Tamil Nadu in crowded cages to sacrifice themselves in front of her.

She likes blood. She is always angry.

Three male gods found temples for themselves however on the walls of the outer arch.

One got its nose broken nose during the annual carnival renovations.

The last one among the six had divine powers. Providence.

No temple was made around him. No one knew that this piece had sacred strength from the cosmos. He waited in sculptors shed for  a number of years and several hundred years after his death withered down into sand and soil. A passing birds dropping fell on the sand soil rock blend and miraculously  it had a small seed buried between shit. The seed grew into a tree and rock idol particles intermixed and became a part of its branches and leaves. The fruits it dropped healed birds who could not fly.

Years later someone found the stolen goddess in the local river.  

He placed it under the secret sacred tree. The god and goddess merged.

Forests grew around them.

Cliche

"What is it that you want now ?" She asked him by the beach

"To freeze this moment in time", He smiled.

" That is a cliché" she walked a little further and sat on a broken boat. “Is that a boat? “

He looked into the farthest point in the horizon where the sky and the sea merged.  A fish jumped up and disappeared in the blue. “ What boat ?”

She was looking far ahead into the horizon.  A cloud seemed to be staying still. “I want to go there “. She started walking towards the water.

“There might be an undercurrent”, he stopped her held her hand and kissed her.

She pushed him off and ran, “someone might be looking at us”.

He sat down by the boat as she ran away far from him. He looked at the horizon and the beach. She is now a speck on the edge of beach far away to his left. He looked towards his right. The crabs crawled back into tiny holes on the beach. He turned around and she was gone.

He ran behind her.