Me Feels

The world will get down to its knees, time will freeze and yeah that would be my day. I’ve fought for the weak, I have seen for the blind, I have heard for the deaf, I have run for the lame except for myself and it’s for sure that my day will come or more precisely my day has to come. No matter how long my wait is going to be, my day will come. I can wait until the rivers run dry, until the summer vanishes from the seasons and until the earth turns into dust. I have paid enough for my day and in no way I am letting my devotions go to a waste. I am very well prepared to get my payback and I am even ready to fight the almighty till the smallest drop of energy lasts, until he/she admits that I am the most desired candidate for the best boon. I am ready to fight the best archer until he has no arrows left in his quiver and I am ready to fight all the warriors until they run out of their weapons till their arsenal is completely emptied. If I deserve something good, I am ready to snatch it from the greedy ones who just don’t want to let my good off of their hands. No matter how tight they hold what belongs to me, I’ll get it at any cost for I am the deserver. I am not asking for what I am not worthy of and I know quite well how to get what belongs to me.

“Hey, have you seen him off lately? Where has he vanished?” One of the several guys sitting around the dining table in a cozy restaurant called loudly.

The other lad replies, “yeah I too haven’t seen or heard of him for the last couple of months, I wonder where and what might he been doing?’

“A little I know about his is that he had been a good friend of mine and a helpful one as well. He lived by his own orthodox principles and rules which is why he never got out of the box. He never saw anything or bothered to see anything beyond his own horizon. He had his own life, a unique approach of dealing with his self pro-claimed outsiders and was a lonely psycho” says another.

“However at times, he used to be the most amicable person in our circle. Sometimes he was very amusing and a terribly short tempered guy on most occasions. We all know him as a crazy maniac, don’t we? Someday we would hear about his suicide” giggles another one.

The most talkative one speaks, “I think he has left for abroad or he might be possibly be back to his village where he had a dream to catch. Or he might just have detained himself within four walls in some corner of the city, lying flat on the floor and gazing at the ceiling and weaving silly and weird thoughts. I had caught him in such acts several times. It was really funny the way he looked at the ceiling, putting one of his arms on his chest and the other ticking his chin. He even used to mutter ambiguous sentences and pat on his head.”

The last one speaks, “But there must be something which bugs him so bad. He never shares his troubles and thought so that makes him a nerd. He is supposed to be frank with us and share his feelings so as to ease his troubles away, but he doesn’t do that. I really feel pity on him.”

“Do you guys know anything about his romance?” inquires one of them.

The one with fair acquaintance replies, “He used to say that he never had a girlfriend but he is in love with a girl. He also said that if he ever had to marry, it had to be that girl and if not, he would remain a bachelor for his entire life.”

As the talk got more focused towards the character they were talking about, a lot of things were revealed. Everything from the character’s past to the present was gossiped.

Then I approached them because their voices seemed to be too familiar to me. Ah! They were my lines, I waved at them, patting one of them on his shoulder. Astonishingly, he says, “Hey where had you been dude? We were just talking about you.”

You know folks? I already dislike the term called cry. I hate this word so much. In the first place the word itself is error according to English Grammar. The word is made up of three consonants and in English no word is supposed to be composed, without containing a single vowel in it. Yet I have been hearing, reading, writing this term since I learned English.

Can you bear someone cry in anguish? Let us assume a cry of a small child, its mouth wide agape, tears rolling down its cheeks, trying to show its innocence, pain, dissatisfaction and the likes. Tears falls when someone is terribly hurt and thus seeing someone cry is a torment because you can see or feel the crier being hurt.

Not only in sadness or grief, tears falls on almost all occasions, this damn tears fall in happiness and bliss as well. Tears and cry intervene in all sorts of ways one can stumble upon.

Yesterday it was somehow a similar experience of mine when tears almost ran down my cheeks. And it was not for a saddening incident, but it was tears of joy, excitement and a perfect ecstasy. Surprises, they come in many forms, yesterday it struck me in the sweetest of ways. The one who brought me such happiness should not be any lesser than any goddesses. Humans have worshipped and have trusted the gods, the trust and belief which I lack. But as the world accepts the almighty thing, I now should refer yesterday’s incidence related to gods and the goddesses in one way or the other. Because, it was a mighty blow and the mighty blow could have only been generated by the almighty. Thus the one who brought tears in my eyes is to be regarded as none other than the almighty. Co-incidentally, her name resembles the goddess.

I hate to cry and I discourage the criers, but there’s always an exception. You can cry and yes I repeat, you can cry your heart one even when you’re the happiest existing creature in this nature.

The last time when I cried tears of joy was while watching the Oprah Winfrey Show and it had been years since I hadn’t cried. And yesterday you did it. Thank you so much and congratulations for your success in bringing tears of joy in my eyes. Thank you

The match featured Manchester United against an unknown or more precisely unrecognized team, at least to me because, (I’ll reveal it in the later part for not recognizing the opponent). Manchester United was one man down with only ten players in the field. I was among the spectators seated in the front row where I could easily and clearly see Rooney, Van Der Sar, Ferdinand and others.

I don’t remember who it was but he dribbled the ball past several defenders and into the opponent’s D-box where he was eventually brought down. The referee blew his whistle and pointed to the penalty spot. Manchester United

had now a chance to go one nil up and the team mates started whispering to each other so as to decide who is to take the kick. Ryan Giggs placed the ball on the spot. The penalty spot was very well visible and I found myself in the ground dressed in red jersey and white shorts amidst Manchester United

players. The pitch then did not look like one of those in Europe but it rather looked like a local football ground, less grassy and much stony. I was then thinking of taking the penalty kick as there was no Ronaldo who always stepped up whenever Manchester United was granted a penalty. I had in mind that Ronaldo is no more playing for Manchester United and he’s already been transferred to Real Madrid in a whopping sum of money which left the world of football in awe.

I thought to myself, I would kick the ball in the right corner and I also thought I would kick the ball so hard that if the keeper dived to the right direction, my pace would beat him, I could even visualize the ball kissing the back of the net with a swift and spongy touch. At the same time, I was also wondering if I could successfully convert the spot kick and then I took a long deep breathe to control the hysteria caused by nervousness. But at that very moment,

Ferdinand came running towards me, dashing me aside to stop me from taking the kick. Every other team mates also thought, I would not be able to convert the spot kick, though I was confident in myself. Other

team mates whom I don’t clearly remember agreed to Ferdinand and I was denied to take the kick. After a mutual consent everyone opted for Ryan Giggs to take the penalty kick.

The whistle blew;

Ryan Giggs drew a couple of steps back and positioned himself. He started his gallop and finally kicked the ball. To a great astonishment, he kicked the ball way up above the goal post and thus missed the golden

opportunity of leading the score table.

After that I don’t remember anything, because my sleep was disrupted and I was dreaming.

At least I played for the Red Devils, doesn’t matter to me if I only played in my dreams but, I pla

yed football with the likes of Ferdinand, Rooney and Giggs for Manchester United. I don’t even realize if it was a Champions League or a Barklay

s Premier League of F.A. Cup or Carling Cup, but I am sure, it was English county.

At an art conference, Joe meets Deliah. Joe is a painter who has been painting since his early childhood and he has already impressed people around, with his spectacular work. Deliah is a music lover and has received several accolades with her talents, within her circle and relatives.

After their first meeting, the love towards their respective art was responsible for binding them together. After sometimes they get married. Both of them had come away from home to pursue their career in their respective fields and thus a new life begins.

They both were enrolled in institutions where the class fee was extremely high. Hardships started squeezing them. The flat they were staying was the cheapest and the smallest, yet they were happy about their love towards art and towards each other as well. House keeping became tougher and tougher as the days progressed. The time was almost there when they both had to boycott their career and work to earn money instead.

One fine day, Deliah comes home elated. She tells Joe that she has got a pupil, a twelve year old daughter of General Pinkey. Three classes a week at five dollars a class. She was mnore than happy that she would earn fifteen dollars a week and with this earning, Joe could continue his art classes. She did not want Joe to quit his course and she also knew how bad it would be if one has to give up something that is adored the most or more precisely dreams. Hearing this, Joe did not feel as happy as Deliah because, he did not want his wife to sell her knowledge just to help him achieve his goals. After some conversation, Joe finally agrees to continue with his classes while his wife worked.

Joe on the other hand tells Deliah that he has been working on a paint which he hopes to sell it at a good price. Deliah keeps praying for her husband that his picture would be bought by a rich idiot at the best possible price.

One Friday, Deliah brings her pay and spreads them over the floor. In that very moment, Joe lays seventeen and a half dollar on the floor right beside the fifteen dollars. He says that a wealthy man from Peoria liked his painting so much that he instantly paid cash for the painting and more interestingly he has already ordered another one by the weekend. Joe and Deliah never had that much of money in a week so they decide to have a jazzy dinner that night.

Next weekend, Joe comes home a bit earlier, washes his hands and places eighteen dollar bills on the floor, waiting for Deliah. After about half an hour or so, Deliah shows up at the door with a bandage on her arm. He carefully inspects the bandage which is smoothly oiled. Joe gets worried, askes her what had happened. Deliah starts her sotry. She says that the daughter of the General insisted her to see their rabbits. While feeding the rabbit, one of them bit her hand. The servants then immediately medicated the wound by wrapping cotton dipped in oil for temporary relief. She also assures Joe that everything is fine and it had already stopped hurting.

At this point, Joe is shocked, “Don’t lie deliah”, he says as he draws her to the couch.
Deliah replies, “At around five”

Joe asks her, “At what time did the rabbit bite you? What have you been doing for the last two weeks?”

Deliah’s eyes fill with tears, and starts telling him the truth.

“Joe, I lied about the pupil and General Pinkey. I just work at the laundry and while ironing, I burnt my hands. I did not want you to quit your classes and with no other options left, I started working in that laundry. General Pinkey is a total fiction and I always had hard times making up stories. And if I hadn’t worked, you couldn’t have sold your painting to the man from Peoria. Are you angry with me Joe? Would you get mad at me for lying?”

Then Joe replies, “Deli, there is no one as such from Peoria. Today at five, a girl came rushing downstairs towards our hall for some help. She said that someone’s terribly hurt so I hurried myself and dipped a piece of cloth in the oil telling her to use this method for instant relief. I have been firing the engine in that laundry for the last two weeks.”

Both the general Pinkey and the wealthy man from Peoria are our creations but neither music nor painting. They both laugh and Joe says, “When one loves art, no service seems…”

But Deliah stops him with her hands on his lips. “No”, says she, “just when one loves”.

One day she return home a bit later than usual. At home, her mom and her brother, both of them are indulged in their own chores after dinner. The mother as always is tensed as she had been scolding her daughter to be home in time when the whole nation is at chaos with political turmoil. Then the daughter arrives. As soon as she stands her bike, she seemed to be sobbing; her mother reached out to her shoulders and asked what had happened.

She cried out louder this time and said that a robber snatched her handbag from her bike. She also said that she hadn’t been feeling well which is why she was riding at a very low speed. The thug on the other hand could have seen the opportunity and was able to make up with her bag. She said that her bag contained her mobile phone, diaries and a couple of thousand rupees bills. The mom started consoling her, after all there was nothing else she could do at the moment.

The brother on the other hand started shouting at her sister for roaming around late. “This wouldn’t have happened if only you came home early” and etcetera were the sentences the brother had been growling. The brother then leaves to his room and heads for the bed. However, he too could not get to sleep, thinking about the felon. He too was really mad at the crook and if in any way he was to encounter the scumbag, he would have chewed him to death.

The rage against the crook was directly reflected back to his own sister. He did not even speak softly to his sister. He was really mad at, god know what. The brother then repents over the incidence, the way he treated his sister. After a long time, he recalls the incidence and writes them in his blog.

I may sound pathetic and frustrated when I talk about the reaction of the world (a part of the world would be more precise) during the MJ’s funeral procession. They had (whoever “they” may be) had organized a commemoration at Staptles Centre and that was just too weird of the world and the so called well wishers. The song called “We are the word” performed by the choir simply kindled sympathy towards the world in me. Yes in fact you are the world; you are one hell of a pathetic world.

When MJ’s life was made a living hell by many people around the world, there was no one who stood by him. Everybody was making fun of MJ through this way or the other. The tabloids were busy collecting news on who is going to wage a legal war against MJ, the paparazzi were waiting for the perfect time to capture MJ’s face without any make ups and all in all, he had been tormented by his own so called well wishers. When he was financially dead, someone showed up to his rescue only to meet his own selfish motive and later even sued MJ with his own so called violence of terms and conditions.

Now the whole world is paying tribute to Late MJ with fake tears only to prove to the world that they cared. Starting a new topic about MJ on almost all the world’s most popular networking community sites has been very frequent and ironically this happened only after the demise of MJ. Had this thing been there before MJ left the world, he would have got tremendous support and he might as well have lived a bit longer. Showing respect towards someone only after the demise is just pathetic and the world is just too busy or more precisely the world avoids and ignores their so called loved ones while they are alive.

If you care for anyone, it would be better to show them the love that you have, immediately and not after everything is gone. I never was a die-hard fan of MJ, but I enjoyed watching his videos and in particular listening to the song, “heal the world” which is a genuine message to the world, always fancied me and I am shattered a little but I won’t act like the filthy world. The respect and love that I have towards MJ is within me and I don’t need to show to the world, fake tears, animated and simulated sentiments on my face.

However I always stand tall and salute to the people who really cared for MJ.

“May his soul rest in peace”

Yet no new mails. The day has already kicked off in a bad note and a vindictive one. Making this day a fair one seems to be way out of question. However there’s still an opportunity of trying to make the best out of the worst.

I decided to take the longest route to my workplace in order to get rid of the monotonous home to work and vice versa routine and to avoid the nostalgia which I feel while riding along the river of Tinkune, though it has got nothing to do with the person who is always in my mind. I reached to the place where I usually maneuvered and I thought I would not turn right, but the clouds of dust on the other side left me no choice other than to take the usual route. Anyway I headed to my old route.

Next, I decided to slip into one of the gullies where I had never been to. I badly wanted to lose myself in the city of concrete. At some corners, I felt I was completely lost, but one way or the other, the paths would take me to the place where I was destined to. Soon after some nuisance left and right turns, wondering, confused, bewildered, startled I stumbled against the very old and usual black topped road. Damn! I was supposed to lose myself in the maize but sadly did not happen.

Humming songs while riding is my habit and this morning,

“Hey Mrs. Robinson,

Jesus loves you more than you will know

hey hey hey”

was playing loudly through my speakers made of teeth, tongue and throat. Right now in my office, I am listening to Rob Zombie to refresh my mind.

Every day has its dawn and so does the night. Probably, the evening would be something to cheer about which I am looking forward to with a very, yes a very high expectation. If not, I can only imagine myself staring at the sight right in front of my eyes while my mind keeps itself busy with disgusting and suicidal thoughts. “A morbid start and a sinister endeavor”

A tiger is watching a herd of deer at a nearby green. The whole scene is as calm as a sea. The herbivores are feeding on grass at peace while the carnivore is waiting for the perfect time to pound upon the herbivores as it had been days since the last deer fell prey to it. The cubs can also be seen waiting for its sire to bring food for their starving stomach. The adult looks at the cubs and slowly turns its head toward the herd of vegetarians.

In the herd of herbivores, a deer is struggling to give birth to a fawn. Finally it succeeds. The young fawn drops flat on the ground, the mother deer caresses it. It is one of the nature’s mysteries as we can call it, just after a couple of minutes of birth; the young fawns are ready to leap on its limbs. It’s a very uncommon supernatural power that deer posses. Now the fawn is ready to jump, run and leap through the bushes and can run along its sire.

The tiger now takes its position and with a quick glance starts the run. Before the deer knew what was coming, they see a tiger running towards them only some yards away. All the deer run for their life. The newly born fawn starts running away from its predator while the mother stays close to it, still running and seemed like it to be guarding its offspring. The tiger has already got one at its end and it’s the same young fawn that just came to life. After a couple of minutes of hustling chase, the tiger is able to jab the fawn at the back limbs. The fawn falls on the ground. Finally the tiger has got something to feed on, for itself as well as its cubs. The mother deer looks at its fawn being fed to the carnivore from a safe distant. Its eyes seem to be wet, its face full of sympathy and watches the whole scene hopelessly.

The tiger then drags the dead fawn to its cubs. All the cubs indulge themselves to a delicious feast.

Before the tiger and the cubs could quench their thirst with the fresh blood of the fawn, a pack of hyenas appear out of nowhere. Hyenas are parasites; they don’t hunt on their own. The single tiger could not defend against a pack of irritating hyenas and thus the hyenas get success in chasing away the tiger and its cubs leaving the prey for them. A little distant away, the hungry cubs and the tigress watch the hyenas feasting on the fawn. The tigress then slowly tilts its head towards its starving cubs and waits for another herd of deer. Its eyes seem to be wet, its face full of sympathy and watches the whole scene hopelessly.

After a couple of minutes there was a flock of vultures which did the same thing as the hyenas did to the tiger, chased them away and started feasting upon the dead fawn.

I watch in amazement, the whole thing on the discovery television channel. “A tough law of nature”, I whispered to myself with a big sigh.

budhanilkantha, narayanthan

On Friday, I stepped out of the office premises a bit earlier. I was very disturbed with my mind full of disgusting thoughts. In these situations, I always visit Narayanthan. On my way home which lies almost in between the shrine and my workplace, I was wondering if I could take someone with me. Finding a company would somehow be a difficult task and thus a lone travel was certain.

Luckily, one of my best Dais was there in the chowk as usual, chatting with other fellow. I had never asked him to give me company despite the fact that we are intimate friends, we respect each other though he is as old as my uncles. “Hello! Sunil dai, hmm, are you free?” I asked. “Why? Of course I am” was the reply. “I was thinking of going to Budhanilkantha, so if you would like to come? We’ll just go to the temple with no formal homage and then we’ll have a sip of tea and return. It won’t take long, dai”, I said. He seemed to be thinking of something and apparently nodded his head expressing a positive move. I was really glad with his acceptance and privileged at the same time to have such a good man accompanying me. I know one thing for sure that he is the only person who can cheer me up and make me laugh my heart out when I am deprived of happiness and joy.

So we rode to the shrine. In the middle of the journey, he talked a lot about the Gods, music, humanity and politics as well. I always enjoy his talks because he talks in my kind. The most important attribute of him which fancies me is his action while talking. For instance, when he talks about running away, he acts like Tom And Jerry, when he talks about anger, his facial as well as physical expression changes immediately, when he talks about money, he brings both his palms right in front of his face and rubs his fore fingers against his thumbs and apart from these, there are many other actions which I can’t recall at the moment.

When we were riding, he initiated a talk about money. He told me that people usually ignore and forget “Narayan” and only worship “Laxmi” the goddess of wealth for the sake of fortune. People are just crazy only for money, and right at this very moment, he brought his palms right in front of my face rubbing his fore fingers and thumbs while straddling at the back of my motorcycle and obstructing my sight. I found it very amusing not with his words but with his action however I suppressed my laughter and pretended as if nothing was hilarious.

Soon we reached the shrine; we lit a couple of lights and headed for something to eat as I was starving at the heights. While we waited for the food, he revealed to me his top secrets of his life and insisted to keep them secret. I learned a lot of newer things about him. I only knew him as a good human being and a good musician.

Sometimes ago, he had sung his own composition to me, I found, moreover I took that particular composition similar to one of my top favorites by Cat Stevens called “Katmandu”. I requested him to complete the song as soon as possible. He had even told me that he would give this song to a cheap time singer of our locality who gained a lot of popularity in a short time, the idea which I never liked. I urged him to do this song on his own. Few days later, he came up to me and said, “Samundra Vai”, with all wrinkled forehead, “I have decided to do the song by myself, and I will compose another one for the Biman (I personally respecting anonymity here)” Since then, I had developed a different mentality towards this dai just because he gave a consideration to my words of wisdom.

And while returning home from Narayanthan, he made me laugh to the fullest, not with the nonsense talks though, he inspired me to move along with difficulties and so many things that I took them by heart. Thus the visit to the shrine was some way or the other, enlightenment.