Undwelling 2

 

Boulevard of broken dreams

Promenade of promises

Streets of lost souls

Neighbourhoods of numbness

Garage of gagged emotions

Home of hidden tears

Bed of  blues 

Pillows of poignancy 

Sleep of open eyes.

Missing - Episode 16

Tete-A-Ten

Episode -16

Ramada Hotel;

Floor 9, Room #211.

Juhu Bach, Mumbai.

Jennifer Joseph, finally yielded into temptation. She lit a cigarette, inhaled, held it for a few seconds and then exhaled. Jennifer got up from the bed and walked to the window to tap the ash off her cigarette. The window frame captured the sunset, some nameless faces on aimless shores,floating in and out and the Arabian Sea.

The room was lit with two lampshades which highlighted the bronze shade on her hair. It had one empty coffee cup with stains at the bottom,and a maroon lipstick on the rim. A muted television played in the background, light curtains half drawn, the air conditioner set at sixteen degrees, an open laptop with the wireless light blinking, and the balcony window slightly open to let out the smoke.

“Jjo think, think think...what does a movie blogger have to do with Juhu beach and a child? What’s the connection? Oh God don't tell me he could be a paedophile,but then the girl seemed happy with him,but then he could be luring her...oh dammed this is not right”

“There’s got to be a logical connect,” she muttered. She sat down in front of the laptop again. She went through the blog repeatedly. She read a few posts, some movie reviews and made a character sketch in her mind.

“Ok so he likes movies,is detail oriented,visual, is descriptive,must be the chatterbox types.” Yet every-time she glanced at the photograph the analysis was quite the contrary. He looked a bit lost, a bit out of place and shy.

Cyrus had ninety nine followers on the blog “MoviesRus” Jennifer raced through a few posts and reviews until her eyes stopped on “Brokeback Mountain”. That particular review had fifty one comments while the rest averaged five or six. However one commentator featured in as many as twenty one of them –it was Aryan Ahuja.

Jennifer flipped back to another review, the name appeared again. She went to some other posts in a random selection; each one had Aryan Ahuja commenting at least once.

“Ok so he has a fan following all right – Aryan Ahuja – now why would you be so interested in movies Mr.Ahuja? Or are you interested in Cyrus?”she said while her nostrils emitted smoke like a slow waterfall. 

She clicked on Aryan Ahuja’s profile and found out he was a doctor. Her fingers searched for  “Aryan-Ahuja-Doctor-Mumbai” on Bing.There were multiple options but one made her eyes widen.

“Roohi Dutta, stand-alone case for Duodenal Atresia, operated by Dr.Aryan Ahuja” on the Indian journal of medicinal research.At the end of the article she found the name of the hospital he worked and the names Shekhar and Tara.

“Hello, is it  Cloud Nine Hospital” she asked.

“Please hold”

“Dammed, it hurry up”

The hold music continued to play. Jennifer started to scratch the tip of her thumb with her index finger till the skin rolled up.She stood up from the bed, and tossed the remaining cigarette out of the window.

“Come on”

“Good Evening Cloud nine – how may I help you?”

“Erm eyes yes, uh I need to know about Aryan Ahuja”she blurted.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh am sorry, I mean can you connect me to Doctor Aryan Ahuja”

“Who shall is say is calling?”

“ Uh this is— ” Jennifer was interrupted.

“I just checked,If you’re looking for an appointment then “it’s not possible, he’s on leave till next week”

“What – uh look this is an emergency can you please let me know his mobile phone?”

“I’m sorry ma’am I ‘m not authorized”

"Listen lady,I need that Doctor's number right now" she said grinding her teeth.

The phone disconnected."Uh what, wait,I'm sorry,hello..."


Jennifer Joseph slumped into the soft bed once more.She lay down staring at the ceiling wondering what to do next. "I can log back into Facebook and inform Tara...but with what evidence? Just a hunch? She might just freak out to know that her child is with a paedophile? But not telling her could be the worst thing to happen"

Jennifer logged back into Facebook to see so many comments on Roohi and there was Aryan Ahuja's comment - with a phone number. Curious she clicked on his profile page and the first words startled her “What you seek, is seeking you”. 

Rumi was her favorite too.

• “Me and my team are participating in ‘Game Of Blogs’ at BlogAdda.com. #CelebrateBlogging with us.”

Lost and Found

In the bylanes of the bygones,

I found myself in responsible.

Of being rational,functional,frugal,

I lost to radical.

On the road to perfection

I found myself in analytical.

Oh the machinist

I lost to emotional

In the design of a designer life,

I found myself in a pattern,

In the scheme of things,

I lost to abstract.

In the junctions of life

I found myself on the tracks.

The train keeps moving,

I lost to stations

In the milestones on the road
I found myself staring at the fork,
In the lamps that showed light
I lost to darkness.

Gyanban Thoughts - A poem which talks about all how we go through a series of lost and founds in our lives,in fact the summation of lost and found is what life is all about in the end. Have you found yourself?

Hourglass

The last fading glance,

The road and increasing distance,

Trying to hold on

To her last fragrance.

A simmering flame touches,

A  solitary window watches,

One light switched on,

One hope hooked on.

Starlit sky and biting cold,

Tear drops and curled bed folds,

Those longing eyes wait,

Her walk through the gates.

Morning again,a new hope runs

Dodging twists and turns

Holding on  for her return,

A bleeding heart never learns.

As the hourglass trickled,

His breath stifled

The waiting eyes kept gazing,

As the heart stoppped breathing.














Gyanban Thoughts - a few lines for those waited...forever.For those who never got a second chance, or the second glance.For those who dreamed of a life together of  a journey forever.Very few people value the love they have,until it's gone.They have no idea how life could be otherwise...








Onesingleimpression

Summer of '99

‘If I don’t, who will save him?’ pondered Shershah amidst the chaos.

His mind buzzed with rapid-fire thoughts.

‘It’s not a choice really’ he reassured himself & jumped into the crossfire.

‘Get up, you have to make it’ Shershah yelled repeatedly from above.

For the first time in his life, the body disobeyed the mind.

Gyanban Thoughts – What were you doing in the summer of 99? Think about the time you were 24 years old. What fun were you having ? What pleasant memories you have about those delirious parties, innocent romances the thrill of your first salary check perhaps.

And then think about Captain Vikram Batra,24, died saving his men in the battlefield. Posthumously awarded Param Vir Chakra, nations highest military honour, while we hummed to the tune of Yeh Dil Maangey more( my heart wants more) the popular cola advert.! Ironically this became the war cry for Captain Vikram Batra.

Nick-named Sher Shah (King of Lions) for his unflinching courage, he was killed when he tried to rescue an injured officer in the battled field. Think about his mindset before he took that decision to jump into an obvious hazardous cross-fire.

And I think to myself - When was the last time you did something brave? Something selfless? Something that does not amount to any benefit to you ?

Captain Batra – True courage needs no adjectives. Salute.

Wish - The Wishious Cycle!!

Well what I am about to tell you is quite an unbelievable little story.

Just wish it doesn't happen to you.That's all.

It is a story of just one fateful Friday evening, just a few hours really, in a lonely textile industrial estate, far away from mainstream civilization embedded in a small town 50kms off Ahmedabad. The place was mostly secluded except for the passing nomads or gypsies or the occasional tourists who wandered into the town by mistake.

9.15PM, Friday.

The data entry operator, Nehaben regained consciousness on the other corner of the room in the back office. Her eyes scanned the room slowly. The old fan whirred nonchalantly, the files on the tables flipped back and forth, the window pane squeaked every time the cross breeze picked up speed. Coffee cups lay on the table, one of them spilled some coffee and the bill of materials was stained. The computer was switched on and the excel ledger template was open, with the cursor blinking after Rs.2,00,000 on cell AB24.

There were two other men in the room lying unconscious.

The clot on the carpet suggested there was blood.

She tried hard to remember what happened and how she got into this situation but memory seemed to play hide n seek with her.Her head was pounding with pain. As if something had hit her real hard. Feeling extremely thirsty she gingerly got up to look for some water near the pantry. She dragged herself to the water cooler in the adjacent room, and managed to drink some water.

9.20PM

Till a few hours back - accountant Jayeshbhai Patel was having yet another ordinary Friday. But that changed quickly.

He slowly opened his eyes… and saw a blurred wall clock. His head was hurting. He couldn’t remember why or when he had fallen asleep or why his head hurt. He slowly got up holding his head.

He was prone to migraine headaches, and kept a bottle of medication near his cubicle shelf, but today, he just couldn’t find them. Jayeshbhai’s head throbbed even more, typical migraine symptoms and the headache grew worse. Before he could get to the bottom of the issue he needed to take care of his excruciating headache.

He frantically searched cabinets, chest of drawers, desk stand, everywhere, but no luck. He clutched his head as the pain became unbearable, the world was spinning around him.

A bag full of money lay half open in front of him. A lump sum amount which the owners gave to the local MLA before every new project. The owners were shrewd and made sure that their employees were totally dependent on them for survival. The process was simple and that was the key. Not attracting attention. It had worked for years.

It was a simple green duffel bag no more no less. The owners would lock the lower chamber after Jayeshbhai would count the money accurately, double check and seal it inside. There were only two keys – one with the owner and the other with the receiver. It was a bag designed for serving only one purpose – transfer the black money to the MLA’s.

Nehaben would camouflage the bag with textile samples. Jayeshbhai would double-check and account for it and Rajan would deliver it. Being a small town there was practically no escape possible.-well almost.

9.45PM

Jayeshbhai’s headache was unbearable now. As he fumbled and tumbled through the office mess he came across a few tablets lying under the table. He followed the trail and finally found the bottle. He lunged to get the tablets quickly.

Seeing this, the driver Rajan, panicked even more. His eyes widened in horror as he saw Jayeshbhai reach for the tablets. He was trying to say something while struggling to free himself. The knots were so tight that his wrists bled as did his forehead – as if someone had slammed his head on a table. The ruptured veins were ample testimony.

With trembling hands Jayeshbhai popped 3 or 4 tablets while spilling some on the floor. The half filled water jar on the side table helped him wash down the tablets.

As Jayeshbhai regained a bit more consciousness he saw the driver, Rajan, who was supposed to deliver the bag, tied up and gagged. He was bleeding from his right temple and left nostril.

‘What happened to you …who did this to you’? Jayeshbhai asked dumbfounded and slightly groggy.

Rajan was panic stricken; his muffled screams as a result of the gag were getting louder.

‘Sssshhhhh’ – I will remove it – if you tell me the truth’ Jayeshbhai said coldly.

‘Was it Nehaben?’

Rajan was shaking violently, tears rolling down his eyes, which told a story of inexplicable fear.As Jayeshbai moved closer to Rajan , he moved his head so vigorously that the back of the head hit the corner of the table.

He passed out.

Jayeshbhai slapped Rajan’s face repeatedly trying to wake him up.

10.00PM

Just then Nehaben emerged from the pantry.

As she saw it – Jayeshbhai was holding Rajan, there was blood on his shirt and Rajan was bleeding, unconscious and probably dead. She froze for a moment. Her fists clenched the paper weight near the side table.

‘I-I didn’t do it’ Jayeshbhai said stammering.

There was an eerie silence between them. Each doubting the other’s motive and action.

The half opened bag lay in between them screaming for attention. They looked at each other without blinking even for a second. Pressure was building up in anticipation of the next action.

In a swift strike, Nehaben hit the paperweight on Jayeshbhai forehead. He slumped on the table groaning in pain. Nehaben was still shaking as she struggled to calm herself down.

Her only wish was to hijack the bag not kill Jayeshbhai.

She had planned to render Jayeshbhai unconscious switching his medication with Valium sleeping tablets. But something had gone wrong somewhere. As she bent down to arrange the bag, Jayeshbhai regained partial consciousness and hit her with the iron paper punch lying on the table. Nehaben collapsed unconscious on top of the bag.

Jayeshbhai unable to fight his consciousness slumped back to unconsciousness.

11.00PM

Still tied and gagged when Rajan opened his eyes and it was déjà vu.

Everything seemed exactly the same at 6.30PM, 7.30PM, 8.30PM, 9.30PM.and now it was 11.00PM – still no change. His head still hurt, he was tied, and Jayeshbhai and Nehaben lay unconscious in various positions.

How could he be waking up tied every hour and not remember how he got

into that situation.? Why was he tied, and who tied him?

Something was not right.

Slowly some bits n pieces of memory came back to Rajan.

All Rajan wished was to hijack the bag without anyone seeing it.

He had bought some powder from the travelling gypsies, which promised temporary loss of consciousness. That's all he would need to whisk away the bag.

As Jayeshbhai worked on the computer he quietly mixed the powder in his jar and went into the pantry to make sure he poured the rest of it in the water cooler.

Jayeshbhai had unwittingly drank the water from the jar – and immediately felt something was wrong.

He caught him near the water cooler and it led to a scuffle between them.

Rajan freaked out in nervousness and tried to run, forcing his way out.

Jayeshbhai latched on to him and in an effort to bring him down he banged Rajan’s head on the table. Blood rolled down Rajan’s temple and he slipped into unconsciousness. Jayeshbhai tied him up to the leg of the table and gagged his mouth with his handkerchief.

Nehaben had walked in just after that. Seeing Jayeshbhai in the act of hitting Rajan she panicked and started to scream for help. Unable to explain the situation to Nehaben, Jayeshbhai hit her hard and knocked her unconscious.

All Jayeshbhai wanted to do was to hijack the bag while Nehaben was away and the driver Rajan was inside the other room. That way he would face the least resistance to take the bag out.

His only wish was to take the bag and run away not hurt or kill anyone in the process.

But before he realized his plan, the effect of the substance was strong and Jayeshbhai slumped on to the floor hitting his head on the corner of the table.

11.50PM

Jayeshbhai, Nehaben and Rajan breathed their last in that lonely back office.

Such a sad thing isn’t it? Money does things to people.Like it did to Rajan who had come to me at 5PM today.

‘Can you give me some magic potion’Rajan asked.

‘What do you want it for?’

‘Well I can’t tell but I just wish some people to faint for some time, that’s all’.

What Rajan, did not know, was the fact that the powder I gave him, triggered a temporary amnesia and under stress it also magnified violent behavior. It also dried the throat in the process.

So every time they woke up feeling thirsty, they drank the same water, and again went into the effect.

All I needed to do then was to wait till all 3 of them were unconscious or dead.

I have the duffel bag with me, and the key to the secret chamber. I have the money.

I wish Jayeshbhai,Nehaben and Rajan eternal peace.

Gyanban Thoughts - This fictional thriller is inspired by the concept of Cube.The four pillars in this Cube were of Wish,Greed,Heist and Violence. Almost a story in itself - one leading to the other. The central idea being an exit-less loop.

How these 3 characters get entangled in a situation of their own creation. The fourth element, or character if you will, is deliberately kept anonymous.He is the one who narrates the story.

The story is woven around the effects of the dangerous Ketamine drug abuse.Ketamine comes in the form of a powder, pill or more commonly a liquid. The liquid comes in a small pharmaceutical bottle and is usually added to a beverage for consumption.

Behavioural and physical signs and symptoms of ketamine use:

Glassy-eyed stare

* Sharp breathing

* Tremors

* Mania

* Exultation

* Disorientation

* Confusion over simple tasks

The story also hints at the numerous so called ayurveda tents the gypsies put up in every city promising cure for every possible ailment , dream or wish. I had once visited one of these farcical tents and had a lengthy chat with one of the practitioners and learnt the variety of problems people bring up to them.Some of them originally started out as counselors,but then eventually moved into quick fixes for every day problems.

Let us wish for some common sense amongst people!

The Wishious Cycle.

image courtesy :fuller youth institute.

Revenir

When I was a nobody,

you walked in to be somebody,

my life was going no where,

don't know why you wanted to share,

love luck or money I had very few,

and you came out of the blue,

my night is long and I know why,

walk away or you'll just cry..

but you walked with me...

when I didnt have a penny,
those days were really funny
walking into a restaurant was easy,

it's the price list that made me queasy,

walked out quietly, head hung low,

promising some-day i 'll show,

standing in front of a big mall,

and eating by the road-stall

still you walked with me...

when i didn't have a job to pay bills,

those winters of silent chills,

that scooter without a back rest holder,

and you clutched on to my shoulder,

the ride long and winding,

getting lost and then finding,

but then one day when it broke down,

I was kicking but you didn't frown

and you walked with me...

the local trains were jammed,

you got jostled and rammed,

the rickshaws wouldn't oblige,

night shows and the fights,

the bus was always late,

getting a seat together wasn't my fate,

I stood hanging by the bar,

your eyes moist like twinkling star,

your soft smile and that little sob,

kept me going every day,

and you walked with me...

the day i decided to leave,

to make my dream weave,

the packings were silent,

the smiling goodbyes were diligent,

the tear drops asked me to stay,

the lips never parted,but the eyes gave it away,

the walk into the plane was long,

but I had to be strong,

away I went over the seven seas,

leaving behind my treasure of memories,

and you walked with me...

many moons had passed away,

I sat by the same subway,

as the trains rushed by,

the strangers asked me why,

I would've jumped on the track

but a hand held me back,

It rained hard that evening,

as I looked up in the sky,

I saw you crying and saying..

I ll always walk with you...

Gyanban thoughts - Revenir means come back in French.Often time we keep waiting for the right moment,only to realize later that the wonderful moments we spend together..were the ones to be cherished..sometimes in life we forget the price we have to pay for our dreams..