The Lost ______

The following is a story I had written more than three months back. I did not post it as I thought its not worth. But, seeing the sad state that my blog is in, without an update in almost 3 months, I thought of posting it. Happy reading...




Anjali could hardly concentrate on the assignment she was trying to finish. She had one miserable day in college. She couldn’t stop her attack on her Professors for the miserable time they have been giving her. But the nonsensical attitude of her friends was unreasonable. She was thinking, thinking and thinking.

The mobile phone started going the revolving act and made the scary buzzing sound. Anjali picked it up. She saw Rahul’s name. It took her by surprise. It was jus a moment ago she was thinking about him. The call was accepted, but it took her a few seconds to get the phone to her ear and whisper a soft “Hello..” “What was taking you so long?” Rahul asked in a soft polite manner. “I was away. Had to come back to my room to get the phone,” she replied. He knew she was lying.

Rahul tried to play the waiting game, pausing few seconds before starting the next sentence. “How was your day?” She returned the favor, answering after a small pause, “Miserable!!!” She did not consider going into further details. He did not ask for further explanation, at least for now.

“Hmmm… Okay…” Rahul muttered. After another pause, he asked “Did you not text me something yesterday?” “I’m sorry Rahul...” she said even before he completed. “I told you didn’t I, I was in a complete mess. I had such a bad day in college. Please…. I’m really sorry.” Rahul took his time again. “I accept the sorry. But please realize, how much all of this meant to me. I have spoken about all this for a long, long time. And I have felt you are taking this lightly. Earlier it you to be let me think”, he was slightly getting aggressive. But he suddenly stopped before he started to lose his control over it.

“Hello???” Anjali asked over her mouth piece. “I am here only… Didn’t want to scare you to death… So, as I was saying, you said you will give me your reply. Maybe it’s not that important to you. It is for me. That was why I had waited from 11.45. You mentioned the time. You mentioned the place. And I had waited there all day long. At 12.55 you texted me saying, you will come now. At 1.30 you texted you are inside class and can not come and that you will inform if you can come in the evening. From 3.30, I again waited for about an hour when you texted that you are going home. “Anjali did no utter a word. Yet again the pause came from Rahul. “What should I infer from all of this?” he continued. “Have a done something so bad to be treated in such a way Anjali. I’m turning out to be a laughing stick among your friends. Hmmmm…..” Yet again the wait which seemed to be forever after which he asked, “Don’t you have something to say?”

Anjali took her time, after which she spoke. “Im sorry for all that happened today. I did text you as I had decided upon what course of action I should take. But everything is not in my hands. Please do understand. I was supposed to be done with my lab by 12, which sadly did not happen. We were made to wait for more than 45 minutes after which we are to repeat the same experiment the same week. After this I hurried to class to find Sneha had taken a book of mine to take Photostat copies.” Rahul groaned on hearing this. She continued, “By the time I was done with venting my spleen at her, the teacher had popped in 5 minutes earlier. This ruined my plan to bunk that hour. I tried to escape each the next hour too, but in vain. At 3.30 I went along with Sneha to get my book from Copy Park, and to our astonishment, my book was not there. All that we could do was watch and wait till the idiot who took the book would come back and return it. I had something really good in store for him. After almost an hour we gave up hope. Got really sad after this, and was in no real mood to talk. That was why I had left. Please understand. I am sorry about it.”

“Hey.. Its jus a book isn’t it. Why should you get so desperate about it?” Rahul queried. “Rahul!!!!! Anything that belongs to me, I consider it precious. And I can not just ignore it like that.” “Okay… Okay… I get the point,” he interrupted before the damage had been done. Again, the inevitable pause.

“So, any updates now?” Rahul continued. “About what?” she asked. “The mysterious trip your book had taken today… What else...”

“That’s the funniest side of things. Arjun had called me sometime back.”, she said. “What for?” “Well, he got a call from a Rakesh who is in Electrical Department asking if there was some one called Anjali George in his class.” “Why does he want to know about you?” he asked again. “You really don’t want to hear this, because it’s the most stupid thing that has ever happened.” Anjali remarked. “No worries, go on, let me hear it too”.

Anjali took a breath and started to recite. “There is that idiot in the EEE dept called Deepak naa, he went to Copy Park to collect his friend’s stuff. He then took my book presuming that Anjali George was Geroge Jacob’s sister, and that George, who ever that is, was using his sister’s book. He took it to class and realized that he had got the wrong book. Instead of coming back and returning it, he asked some one else to return it to Copy Park. This creep went and gave it to IceNet. Deepak realized this and called Rakesh, asked him to inform me that the book had been misplaced. How dumb can people get?”

“Do you think I should believe this story?” Rahul asked. “Only if you want to,” she replied. “Do you think I will believe this story?” he asked again. “I think you would,” was her reply. “So, what next?” he asked. Pat came the reply – “Get to IceNet tomorrow, first thing in the morning and get my book back.” “Book… Book… Book… Anjali I really thins you are making too much fuss about s notebook.” Rahul said. “Rahul, I don’t know how you feel. But my book is important for me. And I want it back”, she was firm in her reply.

“Sorry… Sorry… Okay, let me tell you something. Your day is going to be even crazier”, he could not hide the smirk on this face. “WHAT!!!” she screamed. “Well, I paid a visit to IceNet in the evening to get something and I saw you book orphaned there. I didn’t waste a chance, so I took it with me. It right here next to me. Its important to you isn’t it, so first thing in the morning come and get it from me. Okay?”

“Rahul!!! You were making a monkey out of me weren’t you?” Anjali asked. “I was not that rude was I. Leave it. I wanted to know why you left me high and dry more than once. And as I have the book here, I was more than convinced that you were not spinning a yarn.” Rahul said, trying to sooth her. “Okay…” she said. “So, what the reply?” he quizzed her yet again. “Ohhh… That? There will be neatly folded paper inside my book. You may take it. It’s for you. Good night dear.” She hung the phone.

The Hero/The Villian

He was told very late on the night before that he had to meet the Boss. It had made him nervous. It has been almost a year since he had joined the organization and this was his first meeting with his leader. Apart from the couple of lectures which had been delivered by the Boss, he had never met him in person. Not even at the time of his joining did he get a glimpse of the man. He barely slept during the night. His curiosity was getting the better of him.

At 5.00 am he woke up. It has been the routine for the past one year. He went through the rigorous schedule day after day. In fact everyone who was part of the organization did the same. The bitter cold of the winter morning was never considered as a hindrance. The two hour session added to the discipline of their team followed by thirty minutes spent in leisure. Well, that is the word they used to describe it. Any layman would think anything but. In the frost damp morning, the stood in the open drinking the lukewarm well watered down coffee, and crumbs of break which was at least a week old. “All for the organization,” they said to themselves. No one grumbled or showed any sights of displeasure.

The lecture session went on for the next ninety minutes. The discourse mainly touched on the principles of the organization, their ideology and of course the motivation for the comrades to bear the worst of atrocities to achieve their ultimate goal. Today was a rare blemish on his part. He had lost his concentration more than once. Never in the past one year could he recall such an instance when his mind had slipped. But then, today was different. He had a meeting with the Boss. The only issue was that he did not know when.

At 9.00 am they had another one of their leisure periods. As he was sipping the coffee, one of the comrades slipped a piece of paper into his hand. He carefully opened it with his numb fingers and read it, “Follow me, the Boss will meet you now.” He looked at the man, and there was a nod of approval from him. He quietly followed him till they reached the boss’s room deep in the basement of the main camp building. “You can wait outside till I call you,” the man explained with authority as he opened the door and went it. The wait outside was making him more nervous.

He started to wonder if the Boss was too busy and whether he would be asked to come again later. As such thoughts crept in, the door opened with a loud thud and the tall, lanky comrade pulled him inside. Just as he got his bearings right, he was welcomed by his leader. “Welcome Comrade #116. The other senior comrades who have been monitoring you have given me good reviews. They tell me that they believe you are the best among the current crop, the one who will hold the flag of our organization aloft in the future.” He was about to reply to his chief’s words, but was brutally interrupted by the words which continued like a rampant river. “Thus, we feel it is time for you to be rewarded. You are going to be handed your first promotion in our organization. What do you think comrade?” He was about to reply again, but never got to spit it out; the raging river took it from out of his mouth. And it went on. “Now listen carefully. As a part of your rise in the organization you have to carry out an assignment. The assignment is pretty simple. You will be handed a baggage which will have to be safely delivered at the destination. At 10.00 am you will leave with Comrade #088 who will leave you at the border of this forest. From there, you will travel on foot to the nearest bus stop which is Bachalpanch. Take a bus to the central bus station in the city. The journey is long and we believe you will reach there by 3.00 pm. Once you reach there you will have to give a call to the phone number that will be given to you. Once you get a missed call back from the same number, you have to board a bus to Ramgirpur. Give another missed call once you are on the bus. After reaching Ramgirpur, walk to the village of Dhoklamet. Between, give us another call when you reach Ramgirpur. On the way to Dhoklamet, you will find some one sitting on a parked motor cycle with the number 696. We are not sure about the alphabets before that. ” He was carefully noting each and every instruction the Boss was giving. He wanted to impress his boss with his first assignment. The fine details for such a small task impressed him. “You have to show our organization’s greeting code to the man. If he responds with the same, had over the parcel to him and give your 4^th call to us. You may start your return trip after this via the same route. After you reach Bachalpanch give the 5^th miss call when we will send a comrade to pick you up from the same spot you are going to be dropped. Any questions?”

“No sir,” he said firmly. The last one year had taught him to pick even the smallest details without any need of repetition. “Good. You may repeat your agenda to Comrade #036. He will hand over the package and your attire for the journey. As you are new, no one will realize that you are a part of the organization. If something unforeseen happens, you know what to do. I know you are ready to lay down your life for the organization,” the Boss said. There was nod of approval as he was shown the way to start proceedings.

At 9.45 am he got onto a motor bike and left the camp. He was dressed in normal civilian clothes and a back pack which contained the parcel. After 10 minutes he reached the border of the forest. From then he stuck to the agenda he was provided. He boarded the bus to the main bus station and throughout the journey he remained vigilant. He protected the package as if his life depended on it. Maybe it did, he didn’t know. The slightest thoughts of getting caught or that of what will happen if he never reached the destination and even that of opening the package were dismissed even before they arised. Most of the long journey was spent on his adoration for the organization, its principles and its vision. He wanted to rise through the ranks and be a role model for the many that would join them in years to come.

When he reached the main bus terminal, he gave a missed call to the number. After almost 10 minutes, he got the call back. He was over an hour behind schedule. He boarded the first bus to his destination and immediately called back. It was starting to get crowded in just five minutes. It was a route which had heavy commuter traffic. He didn’t not know how to kill time. He looked at his watch; it had been just 15 minutes since starting from the bus station. That was when he thought he had heard a sound from his backpack. He didn’t get time to check what it was, because even before he could react hundreds of onlookers were looking at the huge ball of fire that had engulfed the exploded bus.

***

Next mornings newspaper read

Suicide Bomber Kills 40 people

Chandrapur, June 10 – A suicide bomber killed at least 40 people and lost his own life in the process as he triggered a …………………………………………………………………………………………………….

***

Is he a villain or a martyr?

Once the Hero

He was once the ultimate Hero,
Who rose to the heavens from being at ground Zero;
An ascend that left many gaping,
But to see him fall was sadly heart-breaking.

Once he was a charm for many,
Pretty women surrounded him in plenty,
He made the most gentle of men envious,
Unscathed, he walked the steps to more and more laurels.

The fall from the heavens was never merry,
The years caught by him, slow but steady;
The once-fans who adored him were never in sight,
And sadly, there was no one to push his might.

The vultures swoop over him for that moment to pounce,
All that was left in him was just that ounce;
Stranded alone in the middle of nowhere,
He was searching for that inspiration from somewhere.

For Thee, the Hero was this very Page,
Time and time here I used to engage;
Some how, some way the way to thee was lost,
And now it is enveloped in thick frost.

But once again he wants to be a charm for many,
He wants pretty women to surrounded in plenty,
He wants to make the most gentle of men envious,
And unscathed, he will walk the steps once again to more laurels.

tHe EnGiNeEr : “How time flies………….”

I was chuckling over this ALL IN THE DAY’S WORK comedy my cousin told sometime back. His classroom was decorated with an RF-clock (it’s called a radio frequency clock, once a battery is inserted it adjusts with the radio frequency and sets the time by itself in a few minutes time), which his friends used to thrive playing with during their free time. Once, when they were engaged in doing the same, some one alarmed them of the teacher’s imminent visit. The battery was put back in the slot, and the thing was hung onto the wall, just seconds before the she made her entrance. As she was scanning the class, the clock got her attention with its hands running around at a frantic pace re-adjusting itself. That was when one of the smart chaps threw in his comment –

“How time flies………….”

‘Smart chap’, remarks the author. And our own smart chap, tHe EnGiNeEr is expressing the same feeling…“How time flies………….”

“Rain comes and goes

Love comes and goes

Lovers come and go

Money comes and goes

……………………….

…………………………

But in this age, if a tooth goes, it wont comes again….”

tHe EnGiNeEr chuckled at the latest entry in his text inbox.

The author had previously received the same joke and promptly forwarded it to his friends. One of them accidentally forwarded it to his professor, the very same one who had flunked him in a test the previous day. The professor didn’t see the funny side of things and was quick to inform about the threat to his health (as he thought it was) to college authorities and the author’s friend’s parents. Rest you may be able to conclude.

“Exams come and go. And come back faster”, remarks our EnGiNeEr, who is having his power systems exam tomorrow. No, don’t think he failed to clear the one mentioned in the previous episode. He did that one wonderfully well. This time it was the big brother whom tHe EnGiNeEr was up against. He is Bigger and Badder.

“How time flies………….”

Ten days of Christmas vacation went in a jiffy. Our EnGiNeEr’s concept of ‘all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy’ back-fired (as usual). The 4 days of play that he had set aside crept into the 5^th day. Then into the 6^th and so on till the 8^th. The combined study session which commenced on the anti-penultimate day turned out to be a buffet for him and his buddies. Most of this day was spent finishing the gourmet. Studies were of minimal importance. Nothing useful as to curriculum related was done that day. At night the large bundles of study material were stacked up in his study table. Chapter by chapter. Module by module. It looked at it and decided to bring it down like the WTC.

At dawn, tHe EnGiNeEr set off in pursuit of the yet unchallenged peaks that were in front of him. The printed copy of the syllabus was his companion. Their first hurdle was the duo of Gauss and Siedel, and their loopy solutions. Two hours with the theory were not very productive. The next two with the practical side of things was wasteful – 4 sheets of paper scribbled, one pen broken, one button of calculator keypad stuck and two bottles of water gobbled up. His inferences looked south, the solutions in the book said north. The phone was his only solution. His knowledgeable friend at the other end of his call processed the load flow study and arrived at our EnGiNeEr’s error(s).

A quick bite, few minutes in front of several channels and a check of email and text message box later, he was back to his tech trail. He then researched on how electricity should/could be generated economically. Another numerical problem in his way was an uphill battle. But he arrived in the same direction as his books – Rs.0.54 per hour is saved.

“How time flies………….”

It took him three hours to learn the value of 54 paise.

By 6 o’clock in the evening, he had one half of the syllabus left untouched. A valiant effort to tame Power System Stability went on till mid night (dinner break was taken in time). It was a valiant one, but truly unsuccessful. It had drained him. He was feeling tired and sleepy.

The EnGiNeEr walked around for quarter of an hour. He did nothing in that time. He was empty headed and wanted to shake of his slumber. He got back to his desk. Thoughts drifted about a quick nap and study the final module in the morning. But, memories from his past episodes made him change his mind. “No more mistakes”, he decided firmly. He sat down and opened the book. It read “High Voltage DC Transmission”. And he read on and on.

By 3.30 am he had go through the whole of HVDC. He finally decided to hit the bed. Whatever that was left untouched ought to be studied in the bus. There were more knowledgeable people there. They should be of more help then his own research at this point of time.

The EnGiNeEr went to his room and made his bed. He put the alarm on his alarm clock to 6.30 am. He did the same on his mobile and switched off the light. In the darkness he searched for his iPod which was always left on his bed. He found it. The earphones went in place. He slid the button. The green light flicked on. The music started playing. He wanted some Music Therapy (as his friend calls it) to sooth his mind. ‘Pachai Nirame’ started flowing through his ears. “Can anyone sing like Hariharan?”, he wondered. ‘Munbe Vaa’ was next. Half way through his favorite track, the battle with consciousness was lost. He slept soundly.

The alarm was ringing in the background. Our EnGiNeEr was slowly coming to his senses. He found one of the ear phones still in place and the other underneath his body. There was no song playing though. Did he stop it sometime during his sleep, or did it run out of charge. He didn’t bother. He heard the alarm. It was still buzzing. He got up and walked to the clock and looked at it. It read 6 40. ‘Still kinda dark outside’, he wondered. The alarm was switched off. He poured himself a glass of water which was kept on this table. Then, he took the glass and walked around the house. The text message tone was heard in the distance. He went back to the room and took the mobile and read the latest message. On the very instant, he dropped the glass which hit the floor and shattered to bits. The message read

“Hey dude. Wat happ? Y didnt u cum to coll. U nt well. Ne oth probs”

He pressed the red button on the mobile phone. It went to the main screen. The time there read 18 42.

“How time flies………….”

The Professional’s Professional

He was waiting in the bus stop. It was almost five in the evening. The next bus would reach any time. All the incidents that occurred earlier that day flashed in his mind. ‘This is my lucky day' , he told himself. ‘Three times’, he thought. Not once, not twice, but thrice did he perform the stunt, and three did he manage to succeed. It has to be his lucky day for sure. He thought about the reward (reward is the word he uses to describe, though not everyone) pocketed by him. His retrospection confirmed it.

The bus arrived. He could see that there were a few who were standing. ‘Good’, he muttered under his breath. He got in and stood somewhere in the middle. The conductor made his presence quickly and as per his request gave a ticket to the terminal. His took out his wallet from his back pocket, handed out the cash and collected the balance. The wallet went back to its usual habitat. The trip would take at least half an hour. Plenty of time for the next adventure. He was strangely confident.

Few of pretty girls standing at the rear end of the bus occupied most of ‘his’ next ten minutes. ‘What is to be lost?’ he thought. One of them looked back with an expression that clearly said ‘Mister!!! Are you not embarrassed??’ Such a word never existed in his dictionary. He started noticing that the bus was getting populated, and they were being cramped for space. ‘Getting better’, he said, chewing his lips.

He waited for a few more to pack-in. ‘Two more stops’, he decided. In the mean while, he secretly scouted for a prey. He gently moved about in the limited space, cunningly maneuvering others around him with the professionalism of a professional; no one got even the slightest sniff of his intentions. In another ten minutes, the bus was full; he had found the one he was wanted. It was time for the action to begin.

He made his way close to the prey. He changed his stance so that the ones sitting nearby would not be able to see what was going on. He made sure he blinded everyone and waited. The next halt found even more commuters boarding the bus. Precisely what he had wanted; once the bus started moving again, he slowly removed the razor blade from inside his sleeve and held it firmly between his fingers. It was execution time.

The knife-like edge was steered towards the prey. The act was slick n smooth. Others around him did not have a clue. The weapon was almost against the back pocket of the prey’s trousers. He was about to slit the cloth. He made the gentlest touch on the fabric when the driver jammed the brakes and the bus made a sudden halt. The passengers on their feet were made to do a wild swing. A man with a French beard fell over him. He got up and looked at this man. ‘Nice beard, suits him well’, he thought. Neither his nor the prey’s position changed by a great deal; he was ready. He opened his palm and took out the razor, again.

The prey was almost 6 inches shorter than him. He had a bird’s eye view. The man had some kind of luggage on one hand, and the other was firmly gripped against the metal rod to prevent him from falling over. ‘The heavy luggage would keep him distracted.’ he inferred. Once again, the blade was against the fabric.

He thought of himself as a professional and it took him just a matter of seconds to perform his act. The cloth of the back pocket was slit. The wallet popped out. The loot was in his hands. With an expression of unawareness he slipped the prey’s wallet inside the cuff of his sleeve. The fourth time he did the same that day. He kept a poker face but inside he was jumping up with joy. He thought he was turning into a perfectionist. He slowly moved to near the door.

The bus came to a halt. The terminal was 2 kms further away. He had a ticket to travel till there. But he did not want to take the risk. He opened the door and walked out. He moved with absolute calmness. The conductor did not notice him leave. Neither did the prey. He had one final look into the bus. The man with the French beard glanced at him. The beard looked even better now. He thought about sporting one of those in the near future.

Once he saw the bus leaving behind him, he quickly moved away. He walked at a brisk pace and moved into a side road; he went into one of those dingy places used by people to answer the ‘call of nature’. He made sure no one was around and then took the new found wallet from inside his sleeve. He opened and looked inside. The search yielded couple of photographs, bit of papers with phone numbers, visiting cards, few coins, couple of ten rupee notes and a hundred rupee note. He was disappointed. His previous endeavors had yielded more favorable results. This was far too less. All the effort for a mere Rs.125/- ‘Anyways, something is better than nothing’, he consoled himself. He decided to pocket the new loot with the ones he had collected earlier that day and then move out of the place. He put his hand into his back pocket. He realized it was empty.

*****

The bus reached the terminal. The man with the French beard exited through the front door. He tapped his sleeve. He grinned. He thought of himself as a perfectionist. And he ought to be one. His prey was 2 kms away and truly lost in all senses. He was indeed the professional’s professional.

in the eyes of God

This blog is an adaptation of a story I heard during one of my biblical lessons long time back when I was in school.

Jaison was never built like an athlete. In fact, he looked far from one. He was thin, tall and gangling. More over, he had those thick-lens spectacles. At first glance, no one would have ever thought of him as a basketball player. Well, he was in the basketball team. That was all one could say.

Jaison had appeared for his school basketball team selections in class 8. His endeavors earned him a place in the junior team. He spent the whole year on the bench along with others of his age, though there were a few who did get in the odd minutes on court. In spite of not breaking through, he was accompanied to each game by his mother. The lady was seen at every match, cheerful as always, irrespective of the result or her son’s performance.

The next year, Jaison’s contemporaries took the mantle. But he still remained a bench warmer. His mother didn’t stop her ritual, and it seemed that the lady was willing her son on as if the ill fortune would be over in a week’s time. The week turned to months and months to a year. Another year went by, in the junior team, on the bench, and his mother cheering from the stands.

Three years in the junior team, and Jaison’s experience, unmatched punctuality and attendance record gave him a temporary gain. He earned a place in the senior team once he had reached class 11. That was where the joy ended. He still ended up being a bench warmer. It was as if the coach was scared to give him the odd few minutes even at the end of the games. In spite of the misfortune, his mother was still there in the stands, week in, week out. And, yet another year went by. No change in fortune for Jaison. He ended up having a permanent seat on the bench. The ‘Drink Server’ was how he was mocked at by his peers.

On the morning of a match day the following year, the news broke out among the team members. Jaison’s mother was no more. The lady passed away in her sleep. The team had a meeting to consider whether they should call off the match, but the coach decided they should play and win it in the memory of the lady. They also decided to wear black arm bands in a show of respect.

Half an hour before the match was due to start, each and everyone in the stadium was left petrified. Jaison appeared, with his kit, and his all too familiar style of walking. The only difference was that there was no one by his side. His next piece of act left his team mates even more stunned. He did something; he had not dared to do in the last five years. Jaison walked up to his coach and said, “Sir, I want to play today”. The coach didn’t reply.

After half time, the team was losing and the coach signaled Jaison to get onto the court. From there on, he left the on lookers mesmerized. He chased down his opponents like a bull dog, he stole the ball from his opponents like a pickpocket, he leapt like a falcon and he scored like a seasoned pro. He played like never before. He looked miles ahead of what he used to put up for his practice sessions. Jaison won the match for his team.

Jaison’s team mates cheered for him once the match was over. He won a lot of accolades. And that went on for some time. Once it died down, the coach called him by his side and said, “Jaison, I have never seen you play like that”. He replied, “Sir, it was for her. I wanted her to see me play. My mother was blind.”

I dedicate this blog to my hero, who performed a feat of even greater proportions on May 23, 1999 at the County Ground in Bristol. He was unbeaten on 140, hours after attending his father's funeral back in India.

the true work of art

"The true work of art is but a shadow of the divine perfection" - Michelangelo

The perfect line from the perfectionist. Long back I had to learn a short story by Gulzar about Angelo's quest to find the perfect faces when he painted the frescoes of Saint Peter's Basillica. 'Paintings', I thought. I tried to recollect, but failed. When did i start to paint and note works of art? I used to like painting sometime back. Long time back in fact. And i still like drawing cartoons. But that's the worst sense of plagiarism, as i can never conjure these characters out of nothing. So, plagiarism should be the word to describe my talent. Though i should say, 'only a good tailor can copy a good shirt'. Moreover, the painter in me comes to life like rainfall in the Sahara. Very rarely do i find the mood, which makes me put the dreams into the canvas. Ehh... paper.....

As I was strolling thorough my house, I started realizing that there were quite a few brilliant paintings in here. Not the original ones, but the posters neatly framed and hung at different spots. The impressions of Raja Ravi Varma, genius at his easel was ever present. His 'Hamsa Damayanthi' - the beautiful painting in which Damayanti is talking to Hamsum about her lover Nalan occupies a huge spot in the living room. 'Shakuntala' looking back at her lover Dushyanthan is another one that's in the ground floor. There is this piece of art - a wood craving depicting the Dashavatharas, the 10 incarnations that Lord Vishnu takes through the ages to wipe out the asuras, the inspiration for Kamal Hassan i guess. Climbing the flight of stairs, the intermittent half landing has four small painting, again those by Ravi Varma. The Lady with the Veena and the Sakunthala Pathralekhan are two of them.

The first floor has a different flavour. Three of them in there that my father bought when he toured France long time back. One is that of the Eiffel Tower, and the Moulin Rouge is the another. I have not made out what the third one is. Should be some famous street in Paris with lots of art galleries. I was thinking. I was still thinking. Hey, there is some painting in my room too. Something that was hung long back, but i never bothered to take a look. I wanted my Wayne Rooney poster to occupy that spot. The wish fell on deaf ears of course. I went downstairs to check it out, suddenly feeling curious. On the way, I was trying to recollect what that painting was all about. I opened the door, and arrived at the painting. I looked. I gazed. I stared. There was this central figure, and people around him. And I realised there was some kind of strange coincidence, that I share with the guy. I have had heard old stories of my parents wanting to name me after him. Though that didn't happen, my alias at home was a break off from that name. Incidentally, I have heard friends refer to me by this guy's name when i get a bit too friendly with SOME of my FRIENDS. Jealousy I guess. And an even bigger coincidence, my best mate's name contains this guys name too. I was shaking my head, still glancing at this teal-coloured guy surrounded by 10 or so Gopikas.

"A true work of art, but was the divine perfection a mere shadow, or a even stranger reflection"