Friday, October 18, 2013

Cartoon

She was walking slowly, feeling more tired than ever. Her young son kept poking and pestering her to walk faster. She smiled at his youth and his energy. The pavement was crowded. She stopped for a minute to catch her breath. Her son stopped somewhere ahead and turned back to look at his mother, with love yet with a playful expression, as if challenging her to beat him in a race to reach the destination. He was ten years old, a thin lad, slightly angular face, large eyes, a slightly flat nose. An average boy. He was carrying a bag and she could make out his hands strained at carrying the bag.

She beckoned to him to come near her. He came and she took the bag from him. She could feel the spirits of her son lighten as the thin muscles of his arms gave a relieved sigh. She smiled at him. He happily ran ahead, with new found energy. She lifted the bag and started walking again. Something was wrong…she had never been so tired before.

Her son was turning back constantly, beckoning for her to hurry up lest he would miss his favourite cartoon on the television. She was content at seeing his energy. He would grow up to be a fine young man. She was sure he would have good values and would do well in life. Though his teachers spoke of his mischievous behaviour in class, she was confident he would get over it and begin to concentrate on his studies and excel in life ahead. She did not expect him to top in classes but she know him to be intelligent and with a quick learning ability. She had spotted his eyes widen in surprise and wonder when he would watch the cartoons on the television. Perhaps he would get into the creative line, she thought. He would perhaps be the first one in the entire family to break the tradition of being another businessman.

Was it really that he was running fast or was something too wrong with her? True, she had the bag to carry but then she had always been to the market with her son, carrying the shopping bag back always. She felt a pain somewhere inside her. She would have to go see a doctor. Or perhaps she would just lie down on the bed for some time and then have a cup of tea later. That might equally be effective and she would not have to pay the doctor’s exorbitant fees.

They had to cross a road ahead. He stood there impatiently, waiting for her and equally waiting for the lights to change. Home was close and so was the urge to rush to the television. The traffic signal changed. He did not wait for the vehicles to stop completely. In he darted like an expert and within seconds of brilliant manoeuvring through the vehicles, he was on the other side, impatiently waiting for his mother.

She had seen him jump into the traffic and had broken into a trod, trying to catch up. She saw him reach the other side and heaved a satisfied sigh. He had not come to any harm. She increased her pace. The signal would change soon. She started to cross the road and then halfway through, she felt a sharp stabbing pain in her chest. The bag fell on the road, spilling its contents on the road, including the chocolates she had secretly purchased for him to give as a surprise later. She collapsed on the road, withering in pain.

He ran over to her as a crowd gathered nearby. Someone shouted to another to call an ambulance. None would be needed as she looked at her son staring at her with concern and tears in his eyes. She breathed her last. He sat kneeling next to her mother as the crowd thickened. People were shouting and someone started crying. 

The cartoon episode would be missed…but that did not cross through his mind…


- Parekh, Pravesh
October 18, 2013; 12:26 AM

Thursday, October 17, 2013

Lost...

It was a dark evening. He was driving his car on a lonely stretch of road, way beyond the city, on a way to nowhere. It was a single lane road, trees lining on each side. Old weather beaten trees with leaves shed to the season, a silent offering of withered branches that rose up to the sky and closer to the hint of the moon beyond dark clouds. It was eerily beautiful, the kind of beauty one would not appreciate on a bright day but only on dark nights with the pale cold light of the moon beating down on the face of earth. The kind of dark beauty that would make a shudder run down your spine, yet you would be forced to watch, charmed. The kind of night when you would expect the Three Witches to fashion their charm with ingredients ‘silvered in the moon’s eclipse’.

He looked outside the car’s window, engulfing the sights in, letting it sink down in his throat and swell up inside him, till he felt elated and at the same time heavier than the load of Atlas. He was drowning and rising at the same time, thoughts going over each other as water waves in a tumultuous river, flooded by torrential rains. He did not really know what he was thinking, yet he knew what he was thinking about.

He had been feeling heavy all week long and at the first moment had gone for a long drive. It was a stretch he knew well from his days back then when he was carefree, had friends, back in the days of college. He thought back of the times when he had driven over this stretch of road, with friends who were now distant, with colleagues he had now not seen in years, with friends of friends he barely recalled, and her…his soon to be wife.

The density of trees increased. They were closer to him, creeping on to him as the enveloping darkness surrounded him as the car passed ahead, the two lights being the sole illumination. The moon was completely behind the clouds now. For a moment he contemplated about the consequences if someone or rather something suddenly stepped out of the dense copse of trees and stood in front of his car. He was sure he would run the thing down and would not stop to look back. Somewhere at the back of his mind, he always had a certain apprehension about ‘things’ that existed out of time and space. Not that he believed in them, but at moments such as this, the fear came back to him. Like the ghost of the mistress he never had, tantalizing him with outstretched hands, so close yet far.

He continued to drive at a steady speed, lost in thoughts, a couple of fingers lightly working on the steering wheel, his elbow resting on the window, his gaze sweeping from road to the trees, his mind answering to the calling of the leafless branches, outstretched to him. He thought of life and the way it had been going. He thought of the dreams that were lost now, the energies drained out, the frown lines deepening on his forehead, the darkness under his eyes. He thought of the vision he had during school and college, his days of childhood that he barely recalled, his family to whom he spoke once a week for ten minutes on the phone. And he thought of the days ahead. Days to come. Ghosts of a Future Lost. Ghosts of Things to Come. Like Mansell’s haunting composition…Requiem for a Dream.

His cell phone, which was on the passenger seat, lit up. His fiancé was calling. He was glad he had put it on vibrate. He did not want the quiet of the night to be disturbed. He half-stared at the phone, vibrating. Then he stretched his hands to the phone, let his fingers touch the screen and slide down slowly, as if caressing the name on the display. The call was not answered. The display was dark again. He removed his hands. He kept driving into the darkness that lay outstretched in front of him.

Sometime later the path ahead spread out and the road became wider. He knew he had reached the outskirts. He would be coming to a cafĂ© soon. He drove the car off the road and slid it in behind another car parked and got out. It was one of those places where he could sit for a while and no one would bother him. It had outdoor seating arrangement. He sat down. There was a family sitting somewhere ahead. Husband, wife, a daughter and a son. The kids were little. He looked at them playing around and laughing and a grim smile passed over his face. 

He took out his lighter and lit a cigarette. He inhaled deeply as his eyes blurred a little. He stared beyond the little kids laughing, the light in the eyes of the wife, the smile on the husband’s face. He started into infinity.

Sometime later he got up and left a few notes on the table. Then he got into the car and drove away, glancing for one last time at the family still enjoying themselves at the place. Must be returning from a long drive. He knew he would never ever meet them again. For we are all travellers, from coast to coast, from sea to land…

He would call her later tonight. Or maybe tomorrow. Sometime. He did not know…


- Parekh, Pravesh
October 17, 2013; 07:27 PM

Tuesday, October 1, 2013

Agony of Words

Rest your head here
You have walked many miles
Drink some of cold water
And gently loosen a sigh.

Rest your head here
You have seen many a days
Weary are your hands
And your hair is turning white.

Rest your head here
See how the summer sun glows
Your eyes are bleary
And your cheeks are hollowed out.

Rest your head here
Gentle is the moonlight
Calm your sullen thoughts a while
And ease out into the night.

Rest your head here
You have been parched too long
Starlight you have not seen
And have waited night to morn.

Rest your head here
The world is gone
You may have had great dreams
And may not have seen the storm.

Rest your head here
It has been raining too strong
Sorrow has crept in
And bitterness frails your form.

Rest your head here
I have been waiting for long
You have craved for company
And cheerlessly you have frowned.

Rest your head here
Your words are not strong
Let your pen rest a while
Tomorrow there is no dawn.


- Parekh, Pravesh
October 1, 2013; 03:13 PM

School

He stood outside his school. Several years had gone by since the last time he had stepped in. It was late afternoon and the place was strangely deserted. He stood outside the main gate, the large red coloured building in front of him. It was not an architectural marvel. It was a plain red coloured building, spanning in a rectangle, running around a central garden with classrooms on all four sides. It was the way he remembered it. The main gate was split into three parts, two large parts and one smaller gate built into one of the larger parts. Given the time of the day, the larger parts were closed, for there would not be anyone coming in and out. Only the smaller part was open. Again, just the way he remembered it. Surprisingly, there were no guards. He stepped through the grey coloured main gate. The entire place was silent. There were no bicycles in the cycle stand. The canteen was closed. “Strange”, he thought to himself.

There were two entrances to the school. The main gate which was located further ahead and a smaller one close by where one could enter passing through a small collapsible channel gate. He saw someone come out of the side entrance and stood there looking at him. He could not discern the face at the distance (for the entrance was at some distance from the main gate) but the stance and the outline looked familiar. He walked a little more and realized that it was his friend, perhaps one of the earliest friends he had from his school days. He walked ahead to meet him. He was delighted to see his friend. They had not met in years. His face showed pleasant happiness but no surprise. It had just a little trace of smile, yet it was not serious. They met without exchanging any words. “What was his friend doing here? What was going on?” he thought.

They stepped inside the school through the side entrance. There was a long corridor with classrooms on each side. In the first glance, nothing had changed since his days at the school. Yet as they stepped into one of the classrooms, he realized that it had been converted into a guest room. “Weird! Why should they have a guest room in the middle of the school?” he mused, but he did not say anything to his friend.

There were two people in the guest room. A young girl and a middle-aged man, who he understood to be her father. The girl was standing on one side, the man standing next to a wash basin, brushing his teeth. “This is insane!” he thought to himself, as they both stood and saw the man brush his teeth, while the daughter stood there, as if she were a statue. He turned his attention to the man. On closer inspection he found that his skin was loose and soft, the first markings of approaching old age. He was wearing faded khaki coloured trousers and a vest. He had a long face, balding hair, and a protruding stomach. His arms were fleshy, the loose skin being more prominent as he moved his hands slowly while brushing his teeth. He did not turn his attention to the daughter.

Something is wrong”, he thought. ”Why are we here? I need to tell him something. Something is terribly wrong here” he thought, but could not bring himself to any action. His attention was caught by the reflection of the man in the mirror. Something about the way the toothbrush was moving. He could not exactly place his finger on what but there was a sickening sinking feeling in his guts. The man finished brushing his teeth. There was a slab of stone right below the base of the mirror, on which he placed the toothbrush. He rinsed his mouth and then turned to him and his friend.

The toothbrush! The reflection was not next to it, but almost towards the middle of the mirror! He pointed at it, at a loss of words. The sickening sinking feeling made him realize he was in trouble. The daughter moved to her father’s side. They both saw the reflection and took a step back, closer to the exit and closer to his friend. The toothbrush had a cap to keep the bristles from dirt etc. The reflection in the mirror began to move up and down, imitating the action of the man who was no longer brushing his teeth. Then the cap began to move, as if trying to say something.

He was scared now. What the hell was going on? He took a step back as the reflection began to take the shape of a skull. Then the man’s face was gone and it too was replaced by a skull, their jaws moving, as if trying to say something. Or perhaps laughing at him. He opened his mouth to shout but no words came out.

He jerked out of sleep, sitting up in the bed, the visions of a laughing skull disappearing into the darkness of the room. His face was covered in sweat. By the way the street light was filtering in through the curtains and on the wall he knew it was 5 in the morning. There was absolute silence. He hit the switch board and the lights flickered on. He sat, waiting for his breathing to return to normal. He knew there would be no more sleep for him. He sat around in silence, the second hand of the clock ticking away. He usually liked the sound but for the moment, it was unnerving.

What did it all mean? Who was the man? Why was I there? Where did that friend come in from? What was he doing there? Who was the girl?” and so on…questions that would haunt him…answers, he would never get…


- Parekh, Pravesh
October 1, 2013; 06:00 AM