THE TUNNEL

There is a tunnel that has no exits. The exit, it has, but cannot be seen. The tunnel has no light, no windows- to let its travelers have a peep. What lies beyond is not for the eyes of the traveler. And when one indeed sees what is beyond, can never travel again. Yet, every traveler tries to guess- the sight beyond the tunnel, dark. Most keep guessing, while a few claim to know. A few others just don’t bother, and a handful- well, they might actually know! The tunnel has a definite structure- a kind of maze. It has its sources and a destination. The travelers travel together- sometimes alone- but most of the times, together.

The tunnel has in hold, many surprises for its travelers. And each traveler, takes in these surprises in different ways. The tunnel keeps a track of all its travelers; judges them by the way they take its surprises. A traveler must never displease the tunnel. For the tunnel, always expects its travelers to like its surprises. This tunnel also has a strange sense of humour. Sometimes, the tunnel starts playing games with its travelers. The travelers must play along. For if they don’t, they won’t be able to move on! They get trapped. The could neither turn back, nor move ahead. Wicked, though it may sound, it is, but a part of the path that the traveler has to take, through the tunnel. The tunnel, knows.

How long is this tunnel? That is subjective. How big is the tunnel? No one knows. For the travelers never have known that they are in a tunnel. The darkness inside the tunnels has prevented the travelers from knowing the truth about their path. Some of these travelers have tried to light the lamps. But these lamps failed to help them know the truth. Instead showed them lies which took them ahead- towards their exit. While many other travelers, have ceased to find the truth. They prefer to take in the surprises, not to displease the tunnels- and move ahead on their journey- safely. Safely? Their ignorance is the source of their safety. And this ignorance is their bliss. Is this what the tunnel wants? Its travelers cease to try and find the truth? No. It wants the travelers to try. For only then, it could show them lies!

Through the darkness and through the lies, as the traveler journeys along, the tunnel unleashes its final surprise! The dark humour of the tunnel, never ceases to test its travelers. A few travelers, who’d traveled enough, know all about this surprise. The tunnel is not “entertained”. Yet, a few others are completely taken aback! And the tunnel, celebrates! For, the tunnel is particularly proud of this surprise. Some of the travelers, try to fool the tunnel. The tunnel humours them. It lets them believe that it is being fooled. And throws in this surprise, so suddenly, that they never get the chance to even realize that they were the ones that were fooled! The mysterious, yet the most precious surprises of all- exit. This surprise, puts and end to the games of the tunnel. It helps the traveler, realize the truth, see the light. And this surprise, answers the travelers. Strange is this tunnel- the dark, cruel; yet great, merciful, is this tunnel, called- Time!

THANK YOU, ALL...

Hey all..

Your comments for my previous post, LOST, really helped me out. But the reason for my deleting the post- I just thought it made my blog depressing.. But your comments shall always be cherished!

Once again.. Thank you all...

LOVE- LOST & FOUND

[Based on facts.. I thank the unknown traveler...]

A slit. And I’d break free. I’d float into a world where there’d be no suffering. A world, free from misery, guilt and treachery. A world, where I can be myself, and live for myself. A world, from which I need never return. A world which would be mine.

I took the knife into my hands. I positioned it over my left wrist. The knife was shining- smooth and sharp. Just the way it should be. The setting sun shone its blood red rays over the knife. And the knife- looked jubilant.

I could see myself in that knife. No. It wasn’t me. My eyes were never bloodshot. This was someone alien. No. And I put the knife down. I turned around. I could now face the mirror. I could see a stranger.

A stranger- who’d lost his smile. A stranger- who cried like a child; who hated himself for what he’d become. A stranger- who was in me; whom I’d never invited in me.

Her eyes. It grew large every time I surprised her. Oh! She laughed like a baby! A laughter- that had no sleight, no grudge. It seemed, as though she grew younger, each day.

And one day, when she held my hands, I looked into her eyes. There was no one but she and I. No world, no universe. But she and I. I spoke. Only she would hear it. I smiled. Only she would see it. I loved. Only she would feel it.

But when she started to speak; the stranger crept in. For I was incapable of hearing what she said. And she would never love this stranger if she’d never loved me. No. It was this stranger, whom she’ll never love. Not me. She’d love me. She has to love me. But the stranger wouldn’t leave me. So, I’d kill him. I returned back to the knife.

The knife was back- over my left wrist. I heard a cry. Somewhere, on the road. It made me pause, for a moment. It delayed my journey.

I saw a baby. Round the corner- left out to rot. The stranger, lifted the baby off the trash. The baby stopped crying. His eyes grew large. He looked surprised; amazed at his own luck! The stranger was ebbing away. It was now my eyes which looked into the baby’s. The baby smiled. A smile, so pristine; sans sleight, sans grudge. His nimble fingers, gripped my shirt. And- my smile, returned…

"JAI HO.."

“Beauty is Truth
Truth Beauty
That is all
Ye know on Earth
And all ye need to know..” - Keats

A morning of Joy! Eyes brimming with tears of happiness, as I receive the call from my dad, and see people jumping with joy and bliss all at once, in the news channels. Messages keep coming in from friends to whom I’d promised a treat- asking me to decide the time and venue! I shout, I whistle, I jump- I feel like I should be out there with people, bursting crackers..

My heart, heavy and light all at once- I am Living!

Silence is the best form of music. He lives with it. Music, best illustrates Truth. His persona speaks loads of it! And as He says to the world “Ella pugazhum Iraivanukke..”
I can only Pray- “Jai Ho, Rahman.. Jai Ho..”!

LETTERS FROM MAWLEY...

As promised, I have here, a mail that my father sent me today, 20th feb, 2009.

Sub: The perfect alibi.-for non-performance

Our External Affairs Minister Pranab Mukherji is never tired of asking Pakistan to hand over the terror –fugitives. Well, the most pertinent question in this context is, what will you do with them? For what the cognoscenti of the country know, they will be kept in fortified bungalows, with star-style living facilities; Crores of rupees will be spent endlessly, for their upkeep-with special hospitalization for their further rest and recuperation, from time to time; Lawyers from both the countries and elsewhere, would make a big kill…the cases would be heard and re-heard by different judges, who will keep retiring, yielding place to the new ones, who will hear and re-hear the cases.
.ad nauseam…Meantime, 20-25 years would roll by; the “accused fugitives” would celebrate their sons’/daughters’ weddings, in royal style; all the political bigwigs and the Bollywood celebrities would attend the grand party-never missing the attendant photo-ops.. the media will get sufficient material to cover such “ important” functions , for a few issues, each time;

You think, I am being too pessimistic? In the parliament attack case, ( 2001 ) our Supreme Court handed down the final judgment, convicting Afzal Guru, with death sentence; what are we doing about this ?Our Home Minister says ( the Hindu dt 1st. Jan.2009) “ the Home Ministry was examining the case “ ( sic ) What is there to examine? How long will you keep ‘examining’ the case? Then, how did the Govt. present the case in the various courts and finally in the Supreme Court? And, on what basis the Supreme Court passed the final verdict?

This is only an illustrative case; many such convicts similarly “sentenced” ( e.g.) in the Rajiv Gandhi assassination case , the fellow who killed and then roasted his wife’s corpse in the Tandoori oven ) are enjoying themselves enviable govt. hospitality…( some of them may even be at large, leaving their proxy in the lock-up..! don’t be surprised at all … money can buy anything … )

While courts hand down their final judgment, courts also mention some time limit for appeal; does it not mean that once the time for appeal expires, the sentence must be executed? Is there no time limit for execution of sentences passed by the courts? To a simple mind, it appears, non-execution of court sentences after the lapse of whatever period, must by itself constitute a “Contempt of court”..

Is it good law that permits a ‘convict’ to simply present a petition to the President/Governor and thereby naively convert the Death sentence into a life-sentence?

The point that I want to emphasize is that in this country ( my dear Motherland ) the police, judicial and administrative machinery have completely de-railed…and I see no light at end of the tunnel…Very sad indeed…

Yours truly,
Mawley.

THE TEST

(When Karthik told me sometime back about the 55fiction fad, I didn't realize what he meant by that. But I happened to come across a few which inspired me to try my hand at it.. )

“… this is an insult! Say no to that impertinent girl”!
“Absolutely. What does she think of herself! HIV test before marriage?? How embarrassing”!
“.. But ma, there’s nothing wrong with it. I’ve already taken it. And would get the report any minute now”..
(Door bell)
They wait, as Prateek reads the report.
“So”?
“Positive….”!

THE MARBLE GAME

The blanket was torn at really odd places. Shantama could never let Tipu sleep with that blanket on especially during the morning hours, when the street is all crowded! Tipu wished he were Mani- Mittoo's dog- it slept all day long. No one dared go near Mani.

Tipu's morning was vapid and disgusting. Shantama had been quarrelling with Kamla mausi all morning. Why? Tipu never cared. They were always quarrelling. The asbestos sheet above was broken. So was the cot. Tipu stepped out of the house.

Mangoo and his asinine crony- Bhatti, were walking towards him. Tipu was in no mood to fight. They had had a fair deal, the day before. Tipu had won- and so he got Mangoo's four marbles. End of the story. But Mangoo was not happy. Besides, Mangoo was twelve, while Tipu, only nine.

"Give me back, my marbles"- Mangoo had a bossy tone. But Tipu was not scared. "They are mine, now. I won them", he said- a tone so true and as pure as truth, itself. Mangoo pushed him down while Bhatti caught hold of his hands, tight, Mangoo took out the four marbles Tipu had kept in his trouser pocket and spoke thus- "They are mine . And will always be mine. Get your own marbles if you wish to play today. Else, forget the game.." . He kicked Tipu hard on his ribs, and left along with Bhatti.

"..only ten rupees, ma. I need to buy marbles. If I don't have marbles, I can never play the game again with Sukhi or Hari and all those other big boys out there ma. Mangoo took all my marbles..". Shantama was worried. She hardly had any money to get rice for the dinner. But she could never be happy unless Tipu was happy. She said, "I'll ask 'Baiji'. If she could get me, I'll get you marbles".

Shantama- a single working parent. She was a house maid. She was not a very good one too. People who let her work, let her do it for they only pitied her. She was weak and always sick. But a very sweet woman. Soft, and one who can be trusted. "Baiji" - as Shantama called her, was the only person, whom Shantama could depend on. Thanks to " Baiji", Tipu attends the local school. “Baiji” was her only hope.

"Baiji" had left to Shirdi. And Shantama could not go anywhere else. Tipu was heart broken. Today's game was the most important one. It would change his life. If he wins today, he would get twenty one marbles- he'd be rich… RICH… And then, he'd be the leader. And Mangoo won’t be able to do anything about it.

Tipu could do nothing. The sun was in high spirits. The road seemed everlasting. Tipu could feel the void inside his heart. He was vexed. He cursed Mangoo. He cursed "Baiji". They had ruined his life. But suddenly, he saw something on the road. A piece of paper. An important piece of paper. Money- an end to all his miseries! Ten rupees!

Tipu was filled with life. All his hunger, anger and helplessness, vanished. Mamaji's shop was just around the corner. Full of life, he held one hand high up-in the air, a ten rupees note, tuck safely inside his fist, he ran. He ran past the quarrelling women, hungry children, past the lame beggar, toiling labourers. Finally, when he reached Mamaji's shop, he was sweating- it seemed as though he had bathed in sweat!

"Mamaji, four marbles.."

Mamaji was busy attending other customers. He took no notice of the panting Tipu.

"MAMAJI, FOUR MARBLES..."

Mamaji turned. He saw a shirtless little boy, drenched in sweat, a ten rupees note, clasped tight in his fist, dirty feet, dry hair, bright sparkling eyes.

"Who gave you the money?" Mamaji demanded.

"I found it", came the reply.

Mamaji seized the money and shouted, in anger and disgust-

"You thieving little brat! Get lost.. Never set foot inside my shop, again. For I would kill you if you do. Get lost.."

Tipu stood there, transfixed, seeing his dreams land safely into Mamaji's cash box..