The patience had worn too thin, it was time to break it she thought…

She took off to her feet, her mind racing through a million such instances..

With the weight in her heart increasing exponentially, her hands involuntarily searched for support

The railing was cruelly cold,just like him..

The rain had left thin droplets of water hanging on,

ready to drop anytime, Showing an inverted microscopic image of the world before.

She had gone numb to it, her fingers trailed on their tips, killing them softly

Thin lockets of her hair swayed in rhythm with the wind, humming hymns to their tunes.

She felt his presence behind,

the arrogance of the gender had drained,

he was approaching with an application of apology,

She held firm, firm on stand, mentally and physically

Quickly expecting the defeat his words would face, he went in for the ultimate weapon of love.

The embrace swept away everything cold, both from the fingers and their hearts for they held on together

She shrugged him off softly,

Was it anger or was it greed for more?

Entwined as one, not a word was uttered, but volumes were expressed…

Him promising a better tomorrow,

Her promising an ampler patience.

The more I think about my unavailing conversations with an idiot, the more riled up I get

How Idiosyncratic yet so Brilliant

How Intricate yet so Wide

How Baneful yet so full of Bliss

How Insignificant yet so Meaningful

How Empty yet so Full

How Arduous yet so Compelling

Life, how it is the longest event, a living thing would ever experience, yet branded short

The world we live in is a juicy yet dry Ironic oxymoron

For all the Indian readers,

Take this as a “HR” exercise.

The next time you meet a person, be it anyone. Let it be your mom, dad, the neighbor, the person who sits next to you in the mode of transportation you take in routine.

Ask them this simple question.

” Do you like Mahatma Gandhi?”

You will be astonished at the answers. I would have asked at least about a thousand people around me now and just five ( yes, just five!!!) have told me they like Gandhi.

I know it is a bit too soon to be concluding this post on what I feel about these negative answers from the population sample that I analyzed, but let me just blurt it out.

I asked them a second question, ” what in Gandhi, do you not like?”

I was even more astonished at their answers. More than half of the people, did not have a reason.

I would solemnly agree that we have reached an age, a time where hating the most cherished/most celebified person, gets attention from all over the place. My mind screams, Is that why this gandhian hate has so unknowingly entered all our subconsciousness?

In a recent book (Joy of hate by Greg Gufeld), a series of lines struck me hard !

“You know what really pisses me off? People who are always pissed off. Or pretend to be pissed off. We’ve created a new, frantic world of the enraged, the phony grievance, the manufactured outrage. If you make fun of something or say something truthful, someone, somewhere will be unhappy. Or say they’re unhappy, even when they’re not. When they’re bored. When they’re lonely. When they need attention. They come for you, whining, crying, screaming. And they are coming for you—the children of the corn, with a platform.”

He starts the book with these lines.

I feel something very similar to what Greg feels when a person I know/dont know tell me they have no reason in hating Gandhi.

He is one of the most important leaders of our nation and from my point of view, HE deserves more respect than this.

I am even more ashamed of the fact it was Richard Attenborough, a Brit, who took the initiative to take a movie on gandhi, while our directors were busy with their incessant scripts of puppy romance that is as naive as the attempts of villains in the same movies to get to the heroine.

I am one of those people who pride on having an amazing memory. In the forgive and forget routine of our lives, I generally do the former but hardly the latter. The memories not only pertain to the things am victimized with, they also pertain to the things that I did on/for others.
This is one of the darkest memories that haunt me when my brain takes a break and lingers on, possibly in a waiting room or during a long distance travel when technology forfeits its duty of entertaining me.

This is about an aunt who passed away when I was a kid. Let me give it to the reader that you might be disappointed if you are looking for something that is emotionally plushy in this post.
She passed away when I was doing my 4th grade and just like everyone is praised for partly who they are and partly who they wanted to be for the one who is praising, she is one whom everyone at home misses.
This event is etched in my mind to such an extent that I remember the very exact place, the time and every intricate details of the scenario.
Everything was going fine with my aunt and suddenly things of medical concern started popping up and due to the inadequacy of the doctors in Ooty, she was taken to Coimbatore for diagnosis. My uncle was staying with us for the time being and was out of nails in his fingers to find out what was wrong with her. It was around 9 pm that day and the tv was on when the ominous ring of the telephone spread out into the air molecules around us.
My uncle took up the receiver and the mild sense of fear on his face on hearing the caller showed that he knew the person on the other side of the line had news for him.
He whimpered and gave the phone to mom. She was stunned and kept the receiver back to its abode. I asked what it was, my uncle gasped that she was diagnosed with brain tumor and the reaction I gave for that still brings a chill to my spine.
Our home there had a long corridor which connects all the rooms and is one straight path. I ran across the length and breadth squealing in joy. There were tears that were trying to break through and I dont know if my actions or his own thoughts triggered his breakdown right then.
But why I gave that reaction was that, right that evening, in the news it was told that a cure for brain tumor was being worked on.
Little did I know that, the cure hasn’t been successful to this date.
I expected alteast one of the three to ask me to explain why I did that, but none did and when I explained my actions, it was no longer relevant.

I dont know if anyone remembers this and I dont know if my uncle would have taken this to his head and it would have ran down deep to his heart or if he left it as an exhibition of a mix of ignorance and innocence as all kids do.
Either way I will never know given the possibilities that even small things tend to look magnified at harsh times and even harsh things seems to lose their severity when mind is filled with the sorrow of something/someone dear.

I will never know and neither is my uncle a person who would exhibit even having something like that occurred.

or at least I guess so

Writer’s block