Sunset

It was still a few minutes to sunset, but the sun was fast closing in. Dusk is a beautiful time. Especially that day, on that road. I was on my usual evening run, albeit late by a few hours. I usually try and run while the sun is still out. It was good that I had chosen not to on that day. I would never have been witness to that incredible vista otherwise.

There is an uphill slope at the beginning of that road and as you rise up, you are granted a vision of the shimmering lake, glowing in the sun's setting rays. While the lake is one side, the other side is a wall of houses. Houses of a disarming similarity all basking peacefully in the twilight. It was a sight of ponderous beauty and I stopped for a second at the crest of the slope. I took a deep breath and tried to take the entire sight in, with one swift sweep of my eyes. It was not enough; my greed was not satisfied. So, I slowly turned my head from one side to another and as I did this I noticed tiny details that enhanced the beauty of this panorama. The houses were not as similar as they had seemed before...

The changes between the houses were tiny and pleasant and added to my sense of wonder. There was a french window here and a tall chimney there. A house in stark white and another in brilliant purple. But in these multitude of minuscule and trivial changes, I detected a sense of ownership and also, more powerfully, a flowing harmony. As I stood spellbound and wordless, the scene was broken by the sun: setting.

The street lights had already been burning for a few minutes, but now the lights in the houses began to go up. As the lights started turning on, I noticed a harmony in this as well, from the farthest house barely visible to my youthful eyes to the nearest house looming before me. Shaking my head in bemused appreciation, with a wide smile on my lips, I began my descent into that long, incredible road.

As I ran, I noticed my shadows slowly lengthening as they left the comforting shelter of one street light and shortening again as I approached the next. I looked up and was at once struck by a strange phenomenon. My sub-conscience kicked in and I remembered noticing the same phenomenon in the first house as well: None of the houses I passed seemed to have anybody in them. They were all well lit, with their living rooms and sometimes their kitchens clearly visible, but there seemed to be nobody about. My brain had previously dismissed this, but the continuation of this theme had made me consciously notice it. Any residual satisfaction I had at that previous sight of incredible beauty, on which, the evening curtain had fallen a mere minute ago, up and vanished.

I scratched my brain for a logical explanation: maybe they are all resting inside their bedrooms, or, maybe they are all out. All these I rejected. It was not the case with a few houses, but with every house I had encountered so far on that road. There was just nobody on that road. I began to itch for any sign of humanity. Of civilization there were many signs, but not one sight of human life. As my ears strained and my eyes searched, I heard it: A loud bark followed by a long howl. It was not a wolf or any other wild animal. There was no doubt; it was a dog. There was a note of cultivated terror in the howl. No ordinary dog either, a huge beast. My shadows lengthened and shortened much faster now, as I sought the comfort of the next light, even as I passed the one.

Then again, my curiosity was insatiable. "WHERE ARE ALL THE PEOPLE?", my mind screamed. I just had to know. As I approached the last two houses, I formulated a desperate plan. I would knock on one of the doors and if anybody answered I could always ask for water or directions. At the first house, the door was painted red and the whole house seemed a little crooked. The storm drain was at a weird angle and the windows were very big. So big that I coud clearly see the TV inside (off), and the empty couch and the empty chairs. I decided the next house would be the one. It was the last house. I did not have a choice. Adrenaline was pumping through my body and my inner demon kept whispering "The dog is in this house, you fool." But I pressed on. I had to know.

By this time, I was heaving, my lungs desperate for air. I sounded like a man in the final stretch of a sickening disease, about to die. My eyes were burning with the sweat from my brow. But as I gingerly stepped towards the brown door, I clearly noticed the number 2314 boldly written in a bright scarlet. There was a little paint dripping from the circle around the numbers, drying out. The sign had been painted not very long ago. My heart pounding and my lungs heaving I raised my hand. I had no idea then, if my legs were shaking from my desperate run or my desperate fear. I knocked on the door and rasped, "Anybody home?"

As I heard the approaching footsteps, I could clearly make out a set of paws along with them and took an involuntary step away from the door. The door opened. At that very instant the streetlight right in front of the house gave out and a strong wind blew. It cooled my sweaty brow and my hot face. But I could not feel much more as I heard a shot fire. I saw the muzzle flash from a double barrel gun, blinding me. I did not make out the figure behind it. Incredibly, the first shot missed and I heard the bullet whistle past me. However, the second one did not; not at that close a range. It was not painful.

Invasion?

It was a cold winter night, but I was sweating profusely. I did not mind though, "How am I to believe I am the clone?", I asked the impostor. "You say you remember creating me, but your memories are the same as mine and I don't remember being created.", I told him patiently. "Even, if for argument's sake, if I was created by you, why should I take care of your mundane tasks, while you sit back and relax?" "It is your fault then to have re-created yourself, if all you needed was a slave, why not a robot I ask you?" He was not very forthcoming in his reply. "And if you call this invasion, or forceful replacement, how can it be wrong if you are replaced by yourself." He looked back with the same sullen silence. "But I do not believe your theory in the first place, you fraud. I am better than you obviously, how else would this be happening?" He did not seem to understand. Explaining to a child would have been easier I think. But of course it is difficult to explain things to the dead. I piled the last spade-full of mud onto his face hurriedly.. The sweat was finally getting to me.

Lucky Girl

Most childhood experiences are remembered with a fond degree of vagueness, or not at all. But not mine. I was never allowed to forget this one incident. So here I am, remembering that one incident, in graphic detail, through the one medium available to me: my thoughts.

I was named a different name, but I call myself lucky as that is the only name I hear around me anyway. On why I am called lucky, is what the incident is all about. I was but a toddler then. Not an age where memories are established. So now that I try to remember I can't understand why I left my mother. Well this is no good. Let me start at the right place: the beginning.

The year was 1994. Supposedly the year was a hot one in Michigan, where I was born. This was also the year when my dad got promoted to supervisor in the Ford showroom. I think that was the trigger. My dad is a very low key person. He prefers to walk when he can, even though he was a car salesman for most of his life and a good one at that. He preferred small private dinners to parties even on special occasions. And most importantly he hated outdoor parties. Which is the one thing that surprises me. Not that he hates outdoor parties, but that he has hated them since ever, even before the incident.

The promotion, even though it was a big thing back then, was not expected to lead to a party. But nobody had taken my uncle into account. My fun loving, crazy, extrovert Uncle. He was not my dad's real brother. He was adopted. "That explains the craziness", mom used to say. So there was my father who was quietly acknowledging the congratulations all around and there was my Uncle saying the same thing again and again, "Partyyyy!!". "More like shouting", mom says.  And a party it was. No ordinary party. It was planned to be "one helluva party," in the words of my uncle. And where was it? Right next to the M-1. In the greatest open space restaurant of the area, "Marijuana".  The place still exists. In a small town like ours, the great spaces never die out.

Everybody, who was anybody to us was there. Including some who weren't. The star attraction of course was my uncle. Dad just laid back and let it roll. Mom was the busy self conscious host. And where was I? I was supposed to be with her.

One thing that I do remember about being a toddler is the enormity of the world back then. But on that day, no distance seemed great and I was soon amongst the crowd. A crowd is again a safe place for a toddler, until of course the cursed word "Dance". Now there was no longer a crowd. I was the parcel in the "Passing the parcel" game and soon there was no one to pass to.

Now the next thing I know, I was on the end of a great big sand lot and then there was no sand lot. In the revised edition of the incident (It gets revised each time the degree of luckiness changes), by this time the whole party was looking for me, which I doubt. I think I can safely say that my grandparents and dad were part of the search party. My uncle by now was supposedly being given the dressing down of his life time.

I suddenly saw that the floor was no longer smoothy rough but just rough. I was no longer next to the M-1, I was on the M-1. Things became highly interesting as I heard wooshing sounds ahead. The search got hotter and finally desperate. Of course no prizes for guessing who found me. By the time he came I was in the middle of the tarmac and the wooshing sound had been accompanied by a frighteningly loud honking. A long shadow was upon me. And suddenly I felt arms covering me and pushing me. Then a sickening crunch.

All my life I have been called lucky. I would have been better off called another name. Heard of a guilt trip? Well my life has been one long guilt trip. In the movies I see now, the same scene acts out differently. The hero always gets up smiling. But not my uncle. Lucky me....

But my story doesn't end here. My scars have become painful now. The very air I breathe heavy and sapping. The year is 2010. A whole decade has passed and more. I am on my bike going home. I am at a level crossing. Unmanned. The light is red. There I see him. The little boy would be about 2. He is sitting bang in the middle of the track. I can hear the train now. I vault the barrier. The train is too fast. I am about to jump when the thought stops me," Am I doing the right thing?" There is no boy any more. I am the boy. Do I risk my life and save his life. Or do I save his life by not risking mine?? The torture is unbearable....


I decide to save him.

LOVE LIFE AND THE GOOD TIMES...... ( A short story)

First of all my name is Arun. You know like Arun Shourie........ well I really can't think of any other famous persons named Arun. But its quite common. Anyways, I am Arun, I study in this so and so college. I like to think that I am handsome in my own way, (whatever that means) and yes most importantly I am a teenager in love. Well we'll get to that when I am good and ready. First things first.....

I guess every body now has a cell phone.. So you must be knowing what a missed call is... You know when somebody calls you, you are just about to pick the phone when they cut it. Or they just ring once and cut to annoy you. Or you call somebody and they are just about to pick it up and you cut the call.... and it goes on.. Well my life till today has been one big missed call. I am the king of missed calls.. Not just the phone, life too.... Missed call in all its forms......

Like the other day I was supposed to go to this God awesome movie with my friend and he suddenly calls me up and says, “ De they only had two tickets and You know......” The drawl.. God how I hated the drawl.. Not that I felt left out.. only that why dint it happen to me. To be honest my friend was an ass. As a friend well he was ok.. But you know otherwise.. How did he get to be so... Popular?? Well that about sums up my life.

Then why am I still talking?? I know you'd feel that way.. Just listen.. You are welcome to put your stinky nose somewhere else of course.. But while you are at it what difference doest it make where you put it?? Get me??

So anyways coming back, I am in love. Her name is Shanti. Oh!! peace!! Gave me an all new meaning.

Now I could say that I am a peace loving guy and I wouldn't even be lying... She was so beautiful.. And the way she smiled at me.. God...Is there heaven on earth?? Oh! Yes there is.. I don't know why she smiled at me but I know that she had a soft spot for me.. You see I read body language amazingly well.. Like the other day I knew I had crossed the limit with the teacher and chose the exact right moment to duck and the duster hit my friend ( the same theater fellow, Ha ha..) And then there was the time when I knew that it was the right time to ask for a grant of absence from baldy (our princi) Or the time I ran away from Anup and Karan ( A fight was brewing, no prizes for guessing who was responsible).. Well the point is I can read people.. Or so I thought. I found out that these girls are almost like alien creatures and can never be read.. the HARD way... Read on..

Well there was Shanti and things went on so well according to my calculations that I thought that “Arun” was ready to take this to the next level.. So I called her up.. ring ring... no answer.. sweat.. palms wet.. eyes glaring.. anxiety attack.. panic.. panic button.. call cut!!! Twenty minutes later.., after I had stopped shaking..., being bathed in sweat I decided to take a bath. Suddenly the phone rings.. ring ring.. towel.. run... slip.. get up.. run.. ring ring.. stops. ONE MISSED CALL. Shanti. God... This happened a lot of times. She sometimes would just hang up after one ring. God.. I felt so happy.. Finally something happening between us... And then there were times when I would be waiting with “a rose, a tied tongue and a dumb look” and she would just smile and walk past me and I would miss the chance. Or I would leave a note and she would take the other seat, Or she would not take the bus she usually takes only that day... All this seemed like a message to me... ONE DAY SHE IS GONNA BE YOURS....

And finally that one day came. I was sure. My shirt was for once wrinkle-free. Her favourite colour-violet. (She smiled most often when I wore violet). A rose in my hand. My hair brushed. And my face shining with passionate love. A song on my lips and a shake to my hips.. Hey I was rhyming. What else could a guy ask for. A spring in my walk I was literally jumping my way to the park near the toy shop that she frequented. Lover's Dale.. How apt... I was smiling and God knows I must have looked like an ass, smirking without reason. I didn't even notice. A beggar was upon me. I gave him a fiver. I really was an ass. His lucky day I guess.... I was nearing the X. The spot. To be recorded in the annals of history. One of the greatest success stories.. This is where it all happened. Shanti was there. God how lovely she looked. Green suited her. I was floating. Was I in heaven??? Yes!!! said a voice. I neared her. She turned back. She was looking at me. THE SMILE. It was quizzical now. Like she was asking me “What took you so long??” I stood next to her...

“ Hello Shanti.”

“Smile”

“ I am Arun.”

“Smile”

“ I study in your class...”

“ Smile” It was starting to bug me for the first time.....

“ You know I sit behind you”

“Smirk”

“ Ahem.. You smile at me all the time.. You called me last night.. Around 6...”

She hit herself on the forehead..

“ Now I get it. You are that missed call Arun. Prajoy here had some real fun with you. Sorry about it eh..”

“ Prajoy??”.. voice constricted..

“ Sorry forgot to introduce you. Prajoy. Say hello to anna.”

A small boy. Some of the breath coming back.

“ By the way Arun why are you wearing that violet shirt. Looks really funny.”

Funny???

“ Oh!! Look at the time Vijay must be waiting. Got to go Arun. By the way that orange shirt is really funny too. And the time you fell off your bike.. Couldn't stop laughing for a week.”

“ Smile" , "Shanti I think..”

" Ya???"

" I think I love you..."

" What?"

Who was this new voice??

"What?" -This was Shanti. Tinkling laughter..

"You are a laugh riot Arun."

“Hey go to go. Come Praj.. Bye Arun. Or should I say missed call Arun...????” Tinkling laughter..

Vijay glaring ..... and my body language skills kicked in.. finally.. I got out in a hurry..

Tinkling laughter... Somebody should put a danger sign on it.. Or maybe an alarm signal...So painful to the ear... Hell is on earth too.. MISSED CALL ARUN.... So I was the provider of comic relief eh..?? So much for thinking orange is her second fav. Color... Hmmm.. Girls!!! God!!! And I thought she saw the wheelie... not the FALL after that!!!. Hmmm... But I have to say I had enjoyed the past few months.. The eternal high, The smiles so promising, The laughter so appealing, The butterfly effect,( I mean those in the stomach)... Life itself looked fresh and new and beautiful. I thanked her for that. The good times while they were were wonderful... Hmmmmm....

Sudden brilliance.. I look up.. "SMILE!!!!!"... Its Priya....... Can Cupid strike true this time?? Or is it gonna be another great big MISSED CALL??? One can only hope.....

Here's to LOVE, LIFE AND THE GOOD TIMES.....