Let’s be frank to ourselves, what kind of society knows only one way to express their displeasure or discontent, which is by means of mob violence. I would say a barbaric and uncivilized society.

So all that was taught to us in schools, told to us from TV propaganda and written by numerous historians and authors that we are a great nation with a rich history, I guess is all sham and just a work of fiction. Because if history was really the way they say it was then how could the present be so different.

And all that part about modern and vibrant India on a path to become a superpower of 21st century is an eye wash too. No, don’t reach out for numbers to prove me wrong. I pretty much know what rate we are growing, what the size of our GDP is and how Wal-Mart and Starbucks of world are queuing up to be in India.

But what I fail to understand is - Are we a civilized lot at all?
Indian Cricket team loses a game – a mob comes out in street and stones their house.
A Muslim guy marries a Hindu Girl – a mob ransacks office of a news channel that shows this report.
Municipality tries to remove a token of a shrine so as to widen the roads – a mob is out there against it and whole thing turns into a communal violence.
Indian Citizens travel from Bihar to Mumbai to seek better opportunities – a mob greets them at Mumbai and beat them up
A famous actor dies a natural death – a mob burn buses, stone offices

So this country has a simple solution to everything - STONE, BURN, RANSACK. KILL.

I wonder, a country which prides herself for getting her independence through Ahimsa and Satyagrah, how can in 50 years of self rule it can it turn the dream of Bapu for “Suraaj” to “Gundaraaj”. And how can this be allowed in any collection of humanity which wants to be called a society. While, protest is one of the tools of a democracy, violence is definitely not justified, whatever be the end.

But bigger problem than mob violence is issues which are bringing mobs together. I mean we are talking about an India of 21st century and an inter caste or inter-religion marriage is still a issue that creates nation wide furore – shame on our country and us. When I read about this piece where a NGO was happily taking credit for getting a rape accused to agree to marry a victim in return of dropping of charges, I was aghast. Rape is a crime, how can someone be exonerated of the charges just because he agreed to marry the victim. It’s like a murderer being let off coz he agreed to pay for the funeral of his victim. Has sense & sensibilities of our country men gone for a toss?

For all the talk of India coming of age and being a superpower let’s admit one thing India is in a mess. Regionalism, Communalism, Casteism are more pronounced in the county today then they were ever before. Political stupidity and ineptitude has reached highest levels. We have weakest Prime Minister ever in our history. Per Capita Income can’t be the only way to measure a country’s growth, what about per capita tolerance, what about per capita sensibility, what about per capita broadening of outlook, what about per capita civility? In my opinion India and Indians are getting impoverished in all these aspects.

And while it may be an exaggeration but I would still pose the question – Are we fit for self rule at all? Only solace we have is that we are being ruled by goons and idiots of same colour and at times same caste/religion as ourselves…Big deal!!!

What absolutely pains me is if any freedom fighter get to read what I wrote in last para – my absolute cynicism with Indian establishment would really make him wonder did he sacrifice his life to a cause which people like me are questioning the very basis of? I agree I never underwent humiliation and pain of being ruled by foreigners otherwise to write what I wrote earlier would have been sacrilege. But how long can I base my opinions on what I am told about past and keep ignoring what I can see in present.

And to be frank when I started this post, it was never about my already well documented frustration with the current political establishment, it was against the narrow minded mob mentality that seems to have gripped the average Indian and against a general obsession Indian public has with a misplaced sense of honor and issues of absolutely crappy nature. And till all this change, only inference one can draw is if we are acting like hooligans today, we would never have been any better ever.

And if all we read about our past has any semblance of truth than our current behaviour is the greatest insult to our past. And may be greatest danger to our future.

I usually don't review movies here, given how frequently I watch them ..this place otherwise would become a page outta filmare.
I absolutely don't recommend movies, afterall tastes differ, expectations differ and what one wants out of a $10 bill and 2-3 hrs of time spent in a dark theatre also differ from person to person.

But right now, right here, am gonna make an exception for purely selfish reasons. So, if you have not seen "The Namesake", run , grab a ticket and watch it and yeah, do take a friend or two along. For I want such movies to succeed so that I can see more of them.

Namesake is a brilliant movie. I don't remember when was it the last time that I walked in a movie theatre with very high expectations and walked out with those expectations surpassed.

Let's talk about what I liked about the movie. Namesake has a very comfortable pace, it doesn't rush past you leaving you with a feeling that something happened though you can't really say what. It flows at a speed which gives you enough time not just to get in the moment but to get intimate with the moment. And that intimacy is made possible by actors who not only talk to each other on screen but also talk to you. Tabu and Kal Penn have got into their characters effortlessly, right from the moment when Ashima steps into Made in USA shoes of her future husband till long after Gogol gets into shoes of his father, there is not a scene where you can pick even a slight fault. But, the man who would make you kneel down and bow to him is Irfaan Khan...errr Ashok Ganguli ....I once attended an acting workshop and trainer there kept telling all of us , you don't act just with your face, you act with your whole body......and oh man what an actor Irfaan Khan is ....he talks with his turn of head, he talks with his eyes, he talks with his postures and when he talks - he talks with a perfect accent. I liked him in Haasil, I liked him a lot in Maqbool but in Namesake he has gone a step ahead.

One of my friend, who saw the movie felt that story is nothing new.....am sure that was an after thought. Artists for ages are painting the same sun setting in the sea. But go take a look at paintings from two different artists and you would know how different can the same sun be when seen by different people. Work of art are not judged by an invenory list of what's contained in a painting, so if my painting has a sun, sea, boat, rainbow and another has same 4 things they are not the same. That's why they call it an artist's impression. And Namesake is a beautiful impression about journey of a family across seas, culture, ways of life and wheel of time. It's about people and their lives and no story can surpass that.

And then there are those powerful moments.
Like when Gogol steps into his father's shoes and realize it's so late...
Like when he tells his girl friend I don't wanna get away from all this
Like when Moushami tells Gogol, "May be it's not enough that both of us are bengalis" ....
Like when Gogol tells his mother at airport.. "I wanted to .."
Like when Ashima get to know of Ashok's death....
Like when Ashok tells Gogol, why he named him so....
Like when Gogol finds his dad's graduation gift for him ...years later....
Like when Ashok asks Ashima as he is about to go ...."Come"
Like when Moushami tells Gogol she has turned down the offer to teach in France
Like when Ashima calls Gogol on his birthday and can't find him......
Like when Ashok tells newly wed Ashima....."It's amerika"
Like when Ashima tells her friend that now she knows why Ashok went to Cleveland
Like when Ashok makes his final call to Ashima and then walk back........

And there are many more....so go find them yourself.
Do watch it !!!

-sid

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Song Recommendation:

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This beautigul song from yahudi , remixed and rendered beautifully by susheela raman in The Namesake is playing on my system for last few hours continuously, so what better to recommend.

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ये मेरा दीवानापन हैं, या मोहब्बत का सुरूर ...

तू ना पहचाने तो हैं ये, तेरी नज़रों का कसूर !!

दिल को तेरी ही तमन्ना, दिल को हैं तुझसे ही प्यार...

चाहे तू आये ना आये , हम करेंगे इंतज़ार !!

ऐसे वीराने मे एक दिन, घुट के मर जायेंगे हम

जितना जीं चाहे पुकारो, फिर नहीं आएंगे हम !!!

Sometimes you wish life could be like fairy tales, so that they can have happy endings.
Sometimes you wish miracles are for real, so that you can count on them.
Sometimes you wish clock can be turned back, so that you can change the course of events.
Sometimes you pray because you want to believe someone out there can make it right.
And Sometimes you hope against hope because that’s the only thing you can do now.

-sid

“Train No. 2926 New Delhi-Bandra Paschim Express is running late by an hour. Inconvenience caused to passengers is deeply regretted.” so blurted the public address system at New Delhi railway station.

He was to take that train to Mumbai but now he’ll have to wait for another hour, may be more. He made his way through the crowd to platform no.1. It’s 4 in the noon, Delhi can be brutally hot on a July afternoon & today is one such day. He entered the waiting room & searched for a place to sit. There were people all around, more on the floor than on the chairs. He looked around for a while and just when he was about to turn & get out in despair, Public Address System came to his rescue. Some train, which was running 6 hours late, is finally going to arrive on Platform no. 5. A sudden activity caught the waiting room as soon as the announcement was made. Bags started getting packed. People were shaken back to life from their afternoon nap. It seemed as if the whole waiting room was waiting for this train to arrive. He knew that this is his chance, get a place now or never & then he made a dash to his right where an elderly couple has just got up. Luckily for him there were no competitors & on reaching the chair he himself felt embarrassed for the haste he has shown.

It’s after taking his seat that he first noticed her. She was sitting pretty near to him. He was sitting on last seat of the row & she on the second of one right in front. She had earphones plugged to her ears and was probably listening to some music. Hers was one of those faces that always turn few heads and soon he noticed that there are more than one head turned towards her. Dressed in a faded blue jeans & a strawberry colored T-shirt with hair left loose, she instantly grabbed his whole attention. Her black sunglasses, which for some strange reasons she had not taken off even inside the waiting room, were complementing her fair complexion suitably and were adding to her charms. He kept looking at her for a while, for once he was not complaining about lack of punctuality of Indian railways.

On the floor, near her, an old lady was taking a nap, the sweat gleaming on the old woman’s face suddenly made him aware of the heat & humidity. He strolled out to get himself a coke but he came back fast. There was not much activity now in the waiting room lots of people were having their nap. There were few who were listening to music & few others reading. And rest of them, were just wearing bored expressions. He has resumed both his seat and his vigil. The old lady at her feet in the meanwhile got up. She rubbed her eyes, looked for her luggage and then she asked her the time. Oh so finally he’ll get to hear her voice. He waited but she didn’t respond, probably she is listening to the music quite loudly. The old lady touched her knee & asked her again. Now a reply will come for sure & sure did it come. He expected a polite voice telling the time but instead what he heard was “I don’t know”. It was polite no doubt but it was not the way it was said but what was said which shocked him. He looked at her wrist she was not wearing any watch but then all this while she was looking at nothing else but the big clock in waiting room on the wall right in front of her. She could have told the time & she should have told the time. By now, the elderly man sitting next to her had told the time to the old woman. It was 4:30 pm.

It was a small incident but suddenly that lovely face ceased to be an object of admiration for him. Her behaviour towards the old lady has shaken him out of his spell. He even rebuked himself for getting swayed by her looks. After all, what makes a person beautiful is their character and not just cut of face. He felt a little better after making these lofty conclusions. In ten minutes since that incident he has already pronounced her guilty, pronounced himself an accomplice to the crime and then let himself off with a warning. He was feeling like a man who has just been told that he has been granted a presidential reprieve - sorry but relieved.

He looked at her again. Her face has lost none of the charm. Shades on her eyes still have all the prominence & her smile was as beautiful as before but as he looked at the old woman sitting on the floor combing her hair, all the memories of that incident came back rushing. And those memories were not disturbing him but rather making him feel good. He was priding himself for the fact that he still valued the character of a person more than the beauty. He was patting himself for how he genuinely revolted against her haughty attitude. He basked in the glory of being a perfect hero who didn’t let temptations get better of his values. Biggest of egoists would have been surprised with the ease with which he was finding one reason after another in to indulge in extended self admiration.

His train of thought was brought to a halt by public address system when it roared, “Train No. 2926 New Delhi-Bandra Paschim Express will be coming on platform no. 3 in few minutes. We wish you a Happy Journey.” He checked his ticket and put the bag on his shoulders, he looked at her to steal a final glance. But even she had got up, her back was on his side, he wondered if they would be in the same train. Elderly man by her side picked up the suitcase and the two bags they had, so she will not even help pick any luggage, he sighed and pitied her upbringing. But he still waited for her to turn back before he makes his way out of the waiting room. She turned, her black glasses were still firmly on her eyes but there was something new in her hand - a walking stick. The old man helped her out of the room as she felt her way out with the blind stick. Old woman on the floor got up and took her seat. Wall clock struck 5 right then. He stood there still for a while, held back may be by the weight of his perceptions and prejudices. But then he hurried out, he didn’t want to miss the train; he had already missed enough for the day.

We all have our questions which we run away from, questions which we fear, questions we don’t wanna face, questions whose answers (and I quote a friend) “might be too hard, too right, too true “ and we do run away from some questions, sometimes for too long.

But then there are questions which we genuinely don't have answers for. Questions for which answers need to be searched and if you look at the right place you may find answers for some of them. But we should know where to search. There are some questions for which you need to look inside yourself to find answers and then there are some other questions for which you need to look outside. But lots of us when faced with such questions keep going back to the same place. It’s like your childhood drawer where you used to hide all your comic books, games, toys and all that you could lay your hand on. So whenever you needed something and you can’t remember where it is, you would go and empty the drawer and look for that thing there. No matter if you remember keeping it there or not….you would still search it with a belief that it has to be found there.

Lot of us do the same thing with our unanswered questions, we just keep looking at one place for our answers. And so there are few people who would always look ‘out’ for answers and struggle with questions that need to be introspected upon and few others who would always look ‘in’ and get frustrated with questions, answers to which lie elsewhere.

Not many of us can tell a difference between two kinds of questions, may be because what we need is not an eye for detail but an eye that has toiled over years and numerous such questions. What we may need is a mind that knows what lie within and an eye that’s alert to what’s around us. What we may need is courage to admit that I would have to seek help to get the answer as well as a belief that you could stand up to most difficult questions when no help is forthcoming. What we may need is an ego that doesn’t come in our way to reach out and a pride that doesn’t stonewall our efforts to dive deep inside us.

And I guess only way to get all this is to let ‘Time’ make all this for you and may be till then we may just have to keep these question together with those for which there are no answers. And yeah, there are always such questions…..for which there are no answers.

Had all questions had an answer, question mark would never have been invented. Isn’t it?

-sid

Sometimes you can forgive ToI for all the crap that it publishes, trying to pass it off as news coz once in a while there is a piece that escapes its editor’s trash bin and make it to the newspaper and is interestingly different.

My usual round up of Indian news sites threw an interesting article today:
“Married to low IQ”
http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/Married_to_low_IQ/articleshow/1839631.cms
It’s about mentally challenged people getting married, while it starts as a news item and midway turn to an article but it ends as a story. And what fascinated me was a story coz that was the most real part of the piece.

It’s a story (a real one) about Jacinta, she is married to a spastic for sake of social security and like every other decision in life this one also comes with its share of pros and cons. But no, am not going to weigh the two and say if she made the right choice or not. Sometimes, it is better that if you cannot be in someone’s shoes then don’t try tell them the ‘right’ way. Story of Jacinta’s life may seem a very depressing and deprived one and as you reach the last para you might just be full of sympathy and resigned to the fact that there’s nothing she can look forward to in life and then you read about those bulbuls and for once you feel transported to that room.

You hear her call out to them - "Come Chandana, come to Mama,'', you smile with her as two of them hop out and when she says about the third one, “Goodie, is a slow learner. He doesn’t talk much either.” You can’t help but look over her shoulder to her husband and ponder over her use of the word ‘either’.

Hope and Joy are two things that give life its meaning and everyone needs to find these two to continue living. What amazes me is how people find these things in most despondent situations. How they can live their life counting on the light at the end of a long tunnel. How people find their own ‘bulbuls of hope and joy’ hidden behind the frames and furniture, which they turn to and more importantly hold on to in situations where you wonder what’s keeping someone going.

I don’t really know how it feels when people try to build their life on foundation of everlasting pain and deprivation.
Does that pain stays at back of one’s mind every moment?
Is every smile of theirs just a mask for each tear they have held back?
Does emptiness of their life always more deep than what moments of joy can fill up?
Do their words always carry between them - unfulfilled dreams and quashed desires?
OR
Do they able to forget their sorrows in moments of joy ?
Does their smiles get genuinely free from shackles of pain ?
Do their lives rise as phoenix from the ashes of their losses and soar high into the sky - away from all that they couldn’t have ?

I don’t know but I hope it’s the latter. I sincerely do.

-sid

Song recommendation:

झूठी सच्ची आस पे जीना , कब तक आख़िर ... आख़िर कब तक
मय कि जगह ख़ून-ए-दिल पीना , कब तक आख़िर... आख़िर कब तक

एक महीने के वादे पर, साल गुज़ारा ... फिर भी ना आये
वादे का ये एक महीना , कब तक आख़िर... आख़िर कब तक

सामने दुनिया भर के गम हैं , और इधर एक तन्हा हम हैं
सैकड़ो पत्थर, एक आईना, कब तक आख़िर... आख़िर कब तक

So Bermuda didn’t beat Bangladesh and therefore even the most optimistic of cricket fans in India are now resigned to the fact that Dravid & Co. would be returning home rather than chasing the World Cup glory in Caribbean.

Though I didn’t spend sleepless night following Bermuda-Bangladesh game but trust me am a staunch cricket fan, can’t stand any criticism of Sachin Tendulkar and I did stay awake till 5 a.m. this Saturday morning watching Indian cricket team’s surrender against Sri Lanka although I was dead tired and on any other day would have traded gold to sleep (ok I admit this was a slight exaggeration)

I got initiated into watching cricket when I was 7. It was the year India hosted Reliance World Cup and I remember how I first got attracted to cricket - it was courtesy a colourful weekly magazine saaptahik Hindustan. It was a world cup special edition of the mag with Kapil Dev, Imran Khan and few others on the cover. That mag was full of pictures of all teams, records and lot of other info. That fascinated me and it was going through those pages and reading all the trivia that I first got interested in cricket.

First match of that world cup was India Vs. Australia and those were the days of day cricket in white cloth and long power cuts. And I clearly remember that there was no power that afternoon and finally when power came and I ran to switch on the TV, they were showing replay of Roger Binny getting run out and India losing the game by one run. So I started my journey of following Indian cricket team’s results with a loss.

By the time we reached semi-finals of that world cup I was not just another new found follower of cricket but an obsessive fan. My relatives can still recount the tale of me crying after India lost to England in the semi-final that year (Oh yeah, and am not exaggerating this time).

And what was to follow was my childhood romance with cricket. There was a time when I used to record scores of every cricket match India used to play in my diary and for tournament finals I used to have elaborate score card as well. I think I must have maintained those records very faithfully till I was in class 8. Well, by then my obsession with cricket had started to give way to a more sane form of following the game. As I grew, obsession got replaced by passion and in few more years passion gave way to passing admiration.

And I thank God for the transformation.

These days when I read news clips about burning of effigies of cricketers and stoning of their houses after their early exit, I seriously wonder do cricket fans caught young grow into such uncivilized hooligans? Is cricket so important? Are we as a country so devoid of achievements that failure of a cricket team is being viewed as a national tragedy?

So we lost ? What big deal ? In a game one of the two teams lose and there ain’t any shame in your team having 2 such days in a week. But that doesn’t mean you would burn their effigies and blacken their posters. It’s such a strange and deplorable way of reacting by Indians that it put me to shame sometimes.

I think it’s not our passion for the game but an inherent fear of being nobody that results in such reactions. A country as big as ours is inarguably greatest sporting debacle on face of earth. Forget cricket and our current list of sporting heroes may not go beyond Leander Paes, Mahesh Bhupathi, Vishwanathan Anand and Rajyawardhan Rathore. May be this is the reason why Sania Mirza who’s only claim to fame is winning few matches in grand slam tournaments is being touted as bets thing to have happened to Indian Sports. And cricket which till now was practically played by mere 8 countries out of 200+ on the globe became our national passion, coz even by law of averages when only 8 countries will play you would win sufficient times to keep up the façade of being a powerhouse. Being somebody.

I think lot of people in India had strangely chosen cricket as a way to forget their miserable existence and when they come out in streets and vent their anger, it should not be seen as a reaction to defeat in cricket but a reflection of a life they would rather live differently. Their failure to chase their dreams has restricted their dreams to victories in game of cricket. I think they just release their frustration by getting together and bringing down brick walls of dhoni’s house but genesis of that frustration is not in cricket.

I don’t think cricket is a passion in our country, cricket is there because of lack of passions in our country.

-sid

He read the mail again on his blackberry, eleventh time since morning as he settled into the cab that he had just flagged. He had an urgent meeting in another 20 minutes, his first instinct after settling into the cab was to look at the documents for his meeting but then he picked up the phone and scrolled to that e-mail again.

He saw the mail for the first time when he got up in the morning. It was worse than what he had feared. He read it once then got off the bed and read it again to confirm that he is not dreaming and all this is for real. It indeed was real.

Cab suddenly braked on the traffic light, he looked out - it was getting a little cloudy, there are days when weather mirrors your mood and there are other days when the weather mirrors in your mood. But his day has not been gloomy at all. He didn’t forget to pick his breakfast at subway, he breezed through his meetings and telecons with the usual gaiety, had a hearty lunch and heartier laughs over the lunch with his colleagues. It was like any other day, just that every time he had a moment with himself all alone, he couldn’t stop himself from getting back to that mail.

He reached his destination five minutes before the appointment; his meeting lasted 40 minutes and was a productive one. As that was the last thing on his agenda for the day so he took up the offer from his host to go for few drinks. No, he was not trying to get drunk and forget what was happening miles away. He was just spending a Friday evening the way it ought to be spent. He went to his favourite Chinese restaurant for dinner and it was only at midnight when he took a cab back to the hotel that he looked at that mail for the twelfth time.

“She has gone in a coma”. That’s not how the mail had begun, neither were these the last words, but these were the words that shook him when he first read the mail. He stayed at these words. He was still trying to comprehend the magnitude of those words. He didn’t believe it when he read it in the morning. He didn’t believe it when he kept calling her number for last 2 days at hospital and got no response. He didn’t believe it when he had talked to her 3 days back before leaving for London and she had said, “I think, I’m dying.” And he was not ready to believe it still.

Shock manifests itself in various ways, sometimes it takes form of tears, sometimes it evokes anger, very often it brings anxiety and tension and there are also times when it numbs you but he was showing symptoms of none of that. His shock has obliterated every symptom of shock. It was not that he was hiding the pain, he had just driven the pain away because he had refused to believe anything that could hurt him has happened. He was aware of reality but he has refused to live it. He didn’t try call her number, he didn’t even try and call her friend, he didn’t worry about what would happen to her because he has stopped acknowledging that something has happened to her.

He has reached London just a day before; he has to stay here for at least a week. And till he flies back, there’s nothing he can do. He agreed to come to London only when doctors told him she is out of danger, he was postponing this trip for almost a fortnight now and finally he decided to steal a week. After all, it was just a week, he thought he would be back by the time she is ready to be discharged. He talked to her before leaving for London. They talked for a long time, she was scared and it showed. He attributed that to all the medical setup she was seeing around her. But he was more scared than her and she knew how much he wanted her to get all right. Every time he used to tell her “it’s gonna be fine”, she understood that he was telling it to himself rather than her. And she knew that she needed to make him believe that she would be fine because in that moment he needed that belief more than her. So as they kept talking she hid her fears, made him believe that his words has calmed her nerves and when finally when he left he was sure she would be fine and she was sure that he is sure of that.

He reached his hotel a little after midnight, he was a bit sleepy but he didn’t want to sleep yet. He surfed channels for a bit and settled on re-run of a soccer game he had missed last week. Two of them used to talk at this hour usually but today he didn’t look at his phone even once. He was not expecting any call and neither had he got any call to make because he knew it won’t be answered because it can’t be answered. It’s scary when you live through something like this without being scared and he was doing exactly that. You get anxious when you expect that something worse can happen to you, but what about those moments when you know worst has already happened. Do you get scared or do you get fearless? For him this was the worst that could have happened. You and I may say that this could still get worse but for him that was an impossibility. For him low has already been reached, his frame of reason and faith has genuinely excluded any possibility of anything worse.

Had someone followed him since morning, knowing what had befallen him. They would have had no difficulties reaching to a conclusion that he is a heartless cruel piece of rock. After all, but for his repeated effort to find in that mail some hope to cling to, there was nothing that may suggest that he has been saddened by the news that the morning sun brought. Had there been a device that could have figured what’s going in someone’s mind, still he stood no chance as there were little if any threads of anxiety or pain running in his mind. He has not reacted to the news at all, not when he read it first, and not on any of the countless occasions during the day when that crossed his mind.

This was his act of defiance, his challenge to providence. He stood there alone in large battlefield called life and called out the fate to throw at him all it can. It was like that torture-room situations, where the victim when tortured doesn’t writhe in pain but laugh at the face of perpetrator. And he was doing exactly that. He lived his day just like any other day because he wanted to mock the fate. He didn’t pray to God to make her right because he wanted to shame the God to have put her in that state. He just switched off the night lamp and closed his eyes, he was tired, it takes a lot of effort to take the world and his battle had just begun.

She was still asleep.

He got up from his chair and looked out of window; it was a dark night and all was so still outside, not a single indication that any life exist in the dark outside. There were still few hours to go before dawn would break. He turned back to look at her and then decided to wait at the window for a bit longer. While there was no moon outside and there was a dim table lamp glowing inside the room but still room seemed darker to him than pitch black night.

When they had just met, they used to talk well into late in the night. He remembers this time of the day from those times. With his phone on the ear and night made darker by the shadow of big neem tree right outside balcony of his room, he had seen lot of these nights grow old and weak till they give way to a fresh dawn. He wanted to go out and sit in the garden outside with her, but she was asleep.

He took his chair again ad closed his eyes; he had not slept properly for last few days. Last seven days to be precise. It was last Monday when she got admitted in the hospital, doctors told him it’s a simple surgery and she could be back home by in a day or two. He believed them; he convinced her that it would all be fine. After all these doctors spend their lives learning how to get these surgeries right. He was sure, she was not. But she went along because he wanted her to. He wished he had listened to her. She was still in the same position as she was when they brought her back from the operation theatre. Doctors say she has not responded well to the treatment, she is unconscious for six days now.

He took a deep sigh and opened his eyes to look at her. He has tried it so many times in last few days, hoping every time that as he would open his eyes he might see her looking at him. That’s how it used to be when he used to lie down on her lap and close his eyes, she would keep talking and he would keep listening, and every time he opened his eyes, she was looking at him with her deep black eyes. He longed to see those eyes looking at him again.

For first two days, he believed when doctors told him that she would be conscious soon. They appeared confident and he drew his confidence from theirs. It was on Wednesday night when he started to get jittery, he started questioning them, he stopped believing what they said by Friday. He had it figured that it’s beyond doctors now. He has now started hoping for a miracle, he always believed in miracles. But as he sat in dim light of the table lamp his faith had begun to give way to fear. For the first time in his life, he has begin to fear that he might lose her, such a thought that had never entered his mind from the time they had first met. At first when they met, he didn’t mind letting her go but slowly she became so integral to his life that he just never thought of a life without her. And now suddenly he has realized that this could be a possibility. He shuddered by the whole thought, he wanted to shake off all these negative thoughts. He wanted to believe that she is just taking a bit long to get fine, that’s all. He needed someone to tell him, it’s all gonna be fine.

He got up and looked out of window once more, night was still dark. But suddenly he realized something had changed. He could hear the breeze knocking against the window, dead of night was finally being challenged. He stood there listening to sound of wind hitting against the glass window. No one could tell what that sound was trying to tell him, but he stood there listening for hours and had it not been for first signs of dawn break he wouldn’t have noticed that it must have been hours.

And then he turned and looked at her. She was still asleep in the same position, but he was not worried, it seems he knew she would get up today.

And she did.

-siddhartha

He’s always there (almost always). At the end of every day as dark of the night try to hide the world, he slips in and stay up ….standing guard till dawn breaks. Every poet looks up to him for inspiration. Beauties around the world often get jealous of him and night wears him as her most cherished jewel. On nights, when you can’t sleep he’s always there to keep you company, all you wish more is that moon could talk.

In the age of neon and almost uninterrupted power supply, the joy of a walk in moon-lit night is fast becoming a thing of past. But I have been lucky, for once those power cuts in dead of the night and those street lamps gone bad while I was growing up do give me a reason to be thankful, for they gave me a chance to experience the night as God wanted it to be, quiet and pure, dark but not blind and hidden but still seen. It’s tough these days to find a place where you could just be left alone with the dark of the night and light of the moon, nights these days are better lit than the days.

But for me, charm of the moon has not dwindled a bit. Right now, from my bed as I glance out of window up in the sky - the pure white moon against a pitch black sky presents me such a fascinating view. Sometimes it becomes difficult to decide that did God create night first and then created moon to make night look prettier or did He create moon first and then as an afterthought made night so that humanity could see the moon everyday (almost).