Graves of the alive

A well meaning friend had suggested going back to blogging , because they are a friend and we had just spent a not so small sum on a month long writing course. While the course has been very good, the result has been  minimal so far, but this is going to be considered an attempt to pick up my pen again. 

That my friends is the beginning of the story, I have been looking at some of my old posts, the profile, basically reacclimatising to my own blog. The quest also took me the blogs of old friends and I found that almost all of them are now either completely wiped clean or abandoned. The last post on one of my favourite authors is from 9 years ago. Wonder where the urge to write went, perhaps shifted to shorter forms like the bird app or may be like me, the urge to write flew right out of the window. The reasons are plenty I suppose, the fear of putting out something that could get us 'cancelled', lack of time because life happened, or blogging as a fad faded into oblivion. I have had conversations with some of my friends who used to be prolific bloggers in the last decade about why they gave up writing and some of them have even  called out lack of an audience as a reason . I wonder if I can now cajole some of them back to becoming pen smiths. It will be worth a shot. Some company on these pages would be nice, you know! 

What ever contributed  to a decade long writers block, at least I am back , for now. Time to bring this grave back to life.

Zero

When enough time had passed ,I turned myself in. I had always planned for the day after all. 

The time was right now- She was gone after all , I had not much to lose. I had watched her wither away, broken from her inability to forgive herself. 

 

The irony was that the cop on duty that day was Prince, her brother. Prince had been flustered , nay , anxious when he saw me walk into the station – it was going to open a big can of worms. Me on the other hand was calm, it was as if the storms raging inside me for so long had a premature death. 

 

Everyone thought they knew why I had come, little did they know they would get much more. I had not come for justice for her, only an explanation to what started it all.

 

The station started buzzing with activity quickly but the interrogation cell was quiet – the storm was about to erupt. “ I want to talk” I started.  

 

Prince was waited patiently for me to continue.

 

I continued  “ That day, I was the first one to notice that she was away; she had left her phone at home. I had noticed that the phone had started buzzing every few mins , and I watched the messages piling. . “

 

“ I knew her password , but I respected her boundaries. But it looked important . So I started looking at the messages and what I saw made my world spin.

 

I know enough about her world to know how revolutionary this was. She had done it. 

After years of toiling away in her little world away from her family and the world , she had done it. She will be famous,  in her world atleast  and she will finally be able to reap the benefits. She will be paid handsomely for this, I had no doubt. 

 

I was excited and I wanted to see her. I really wanted to see her and talk to her, congratulate her.  It was going to be polarizing but I was happy she had seen it take form. I had rushed out excited to her office to meet her and talk about it.

 

The roads were slightly crowded and my feed on the pedal was strong, what I however didn’t see was the mad man jumping the lights and crashing into me. And with that it was lights out for me and from what I know now , for a lot more. 

 

When I woke up I was in the white room and the first person I saw was her.  She looked pale and terrified . Her damp eyes also proof to the distress she was in. What I also didn’t fail to notice was the gloves on her hand . Her blue gloves from work. 

 

She looked at me before looking at her hand  , and her eyes widened. She had an apology and a tear to offer before she turned away. That was the last time I had seen her before the fever claimed me.” 

 

Prince didn’t say anything, he was waiting for me to confirm what his mind had already understood.

 

“I am patient zero.”

 

Anonymous - Part 2

Maxi ..

Kripa stopped scrolling. It must spam, he thought. Who in India has a name called "Maxi" - like an aunty's night dress. He smiled. Lets see what it sells - junior enlargement or an address to cash in the millions he had won as lottery in Siberia. That brought out a chuckle. Another casual click and he started reading.

And continued for the next ten minutes. Words , sentences , paragraphs and pages flew by. He had connected intimately with the world inside the email.

Maxi.

It was a story , or atleast an installment of it . Installment seemed too technical.  It was a slice of  a tale and the sender - Maxi.

He looked up from his laptop and gazed blindly outside of his window. His mind still watching the tale. The characters in the tale was alive in his mind. He continued to watch them well in to the wee hours of the morning. His mind was racing, his sould suddenly alive.

He looked back down at his now slumbering laptop screen. He wanted to see who sent it . - Maxi.
a rather unusual name. Does not say if it was a man or a woman, or a child for that matter. For now, he didnt want to know. All he wanted to know was what happened next.

Maxi.

Athithi devo bhava

I have got myself a new acquaintance, err, not really. Lets just say I get to practice my eavesdropping skills due to this guy. Now this one has landed from the some place '7 seas away'. Do not know where exactly from, (nor do I really care! wipe that judgmental look off your face.. read on and you would know). Now during one of the before mentioned sessions where my ear latched on to waves that it shouldnt , I happened to hear something .. The conversation went something like this 'Not too bad.. Commute to the office? I have taken a video. You would not believe it, I saw a cow. An actual cow in the middle of the road. Can you believe it ?'

With specimens like these, athithi tum kabh jaoge should be hurled, probably with a firm tap on his posterior. Good riddance of bad rubbish.

Anonymous - Part 1

Kripa sauntered into his bedroom after yet another night of frivolities. He had lost count of the number of parties he had hopped in and out of today - a birthday party here, a music launch there, a film success party and the last one, he has not even sure of what, the hosts of the last party were celebrating.

Life was good , no it was great. The production house was doing well, his movies were successful. He was the life of every party. He had built a strong support system around him - parents , friends and a sweetheart. No, the problem was that life was too good - predictable, perhaps boring. 

Make no mistake, Kripa was as much as self made man and he was born into celebritydom. Much of the second and third decade of this life were dedicated to movies. Today he was reaping the benefits. He was happy but ..., and here comes the "but" that usually means trouble for the section of the sentence that comes before the word.

Back to the protagonist of my story - Kripa was pleasantly buzzed. The fear of an ever expanding mid section had instilled the fear of "spirits" in him. It was not yet midnight and he still had a long way to go before he fell into oblivion. He looked around his room . He almost reached out to his mobile and then decided against calling his sweatheart. They were yet to recover from the tiff in the morning and it was too soon to hope there would be no drama.

He fired up his laptop instead. He still didn't feel like reaching out to the public on the social platforms that he was so active on either. A few random clicks later he found himself poring through his personal email. His minions man all his various ids except for this one. He still fought for the last thread of privacy that his station in life was trying to encroach up on . The usual mails , a few hellos from ghosts from the past, congratulatory messages from the people who still loved writing personal messages. On nay other day , he would have loved to read one of those but not today. Today he continued scrolling until - Maxi.

Reborn

It has been close to four years since the last post. Much has changed and yet so much remains just the way I left off last time. I am not quite sure which of these has prompted the new post. I suppose , just as well , writing was a girlhood escape which has followed me into my thirties.

I think I have reached the mid point in my life. So much to do and perhaps not as much time as I thought I had, left now. Like some one said, Its the journey downhill from now. Time for introspection, planning, decisions to be made on whether to slow down or to hasten those footsteps.

Getting "older" has turned into getting "old" . Plain and simple. Just the other day , was having a discussion on this topic with P and as usual a lot of goofing around was involved. P already has visions of us pals resting our old bones in front of Talbots. She was kind enough to add a poodle to finish the visual. The poodle being for my benefit. My love for dogs is well known with in the circle of my friends.

The next phase sounds exhilarating, and scary all at once. Would I run the distance or would I falter and watch it from the way side? What is it that I want to do , What is it that I can do ...questions questions, a lot of them. Answers - a dearth of them, at the moment.!

Thanks for being you..

Listening to a Dido song, letting my mind wander , waiting for inspiration to strike , the aim? I want to write one post today

I have always thought of songs as poems, a reflection of the writer's state of mind at the moment, a beautifully poignant moment, a breathtakingly happy one or just a moment of introspection ? But the listener or reader interprets it the way his soul wants to. It might be tapped to the mood of the song or in to a totally tangent .. away from the reality into temporary cocoon..

For now, its a calm sea... .

Wish

The buzz of the conversation flew all around her, but Nisha was not saying much. She looked down at her plate of salads and at him. He knew she loved to hear him talk and talk he did. Talked to every one at the table. Glancing at her every now and then to see her smile. He loved to talk and she loved watching him. He also loved the way she looked at him with out staring. Her quite smiles, her soft words, her beautiful face. The more she looked the more he talked. He looked all around the lunch table to look at everyone -friends and colleagues hanging on to his words. He looked back at Nisha to smile at her.

The topic was the last premier league match. He was a die hard Man U fan and he was talking about Rooney's late entry to the game, that it was the blunder that allowed another Liverpool victory at Antfield. He knew that the comment would draw a few words from the Stevie G fan who was watching him. He liked to see the passion for football in her eyes, perhaps more for 'Captain Fantastic'. But it could only elicit another smile from her. Then he saw a flash of panic , he looked around to see her nemesis carrying her lunch to join them. He was amused. For a kind soul, Nisha couldn't find it in her to forget the barbs that the dragon lady approaching them had thrown at her a few months ago. He watched Nisha to see if she would leave. She didn't. The conversation had moved on to the weekend plans.

He suggested a trip to the beach. Nisha's eyes were back at him, excited. He didn't look at her though. He sought the attention of the guys in the group alone. The dragon lady was going at it again. Regaling tales of all the lakes that she has seen in the various continents. He continued his conversation with the other guys. He heard a tiny scrape of the chair. He looked around to Watch Nisha get up. He waited until she looked at him, the smile gone, murmuring a bye at everyone, refusing to meet his eyes and then she was gone. He smiled at her vanishing back, knowing she would be back tomorrow,just as she has been all these months....

He looked down at the small mirror on the table....and smiled... he looked good.. didn't he?