Ice Queen

He's an astute observer of people.

He's usually never wrong.

He tells me, that I need to be loved by women,that I constantly crave their validation,  and so to gain that love and validation I will do anything they ask me.

I resented that.

I'm not like that.

I think.

I'm never sure...his eyes have a way of convincing you the absurdest of the lies he spouts out.

I tell him,"I don't even believe in love"

"So..who was she?", he asked.

"Who?",

"The one that broke your heart?",

"You won't believe me if I told you...", I said.

"Try me", he said.

"She was an imaginary woman of my creation...the perfect ice queen whose primary goal in life was to reject all men, while hoping and waiting for her Prince Charming."

I took a long breath before I could continue...I had to say it in a single breath, or else I would never be able to say it at all.

                       " I've placed this imaginary woman's mask on several women till date... and most of them have outright rejected it...but it fit one person very well, and it became her...no, not because she had all the qualities of my imaginary ice queen, but because I helped her bring it out slowly and gradually, until the mask got lost somewhere in the persona.

                          The objective of the entire exercise (futile as it may seem now) was to bring about a change in me (which it did in the end) but it had unintended(and tragic) consequences that it changed her as well.

                        I feel so ashamed of myself that I've stopped talking to her,distanced myself from her and hope that someday she might forgive me."

"It's too late to ask for forgiveness", he said,"she will hate you for the rest of her life".

"I know" I said.

My memories will haunt you

I finally found my story...

This poem has been in my head for more than a year now...and I knew that I had to resolve it, and the only way to do it was to write a story...but I never got the plot.

Today, in a flash, the plot presented itself to me...and I'm delirious with joy...that i can finally write what I intended to write.

How to Break Up for Good

Psychologists have been exploring the 'Crossing the Threshold' phenomenon for quite some time now.

The phenomenon of 'Going over the Threshold' occurs when a person who has  been in very intense and meaningful relationship with another person for an  extended period , suddenly breaks off all contact with the other individual ,  determined to never see or speak to him or her again.

This usually results from the other person crossing some line that is the last straw with respect to their relationship.

Unfulfilled expectations,broken promises,shattered trust et al.

How many thresholds have you crossed today?

How many expectations have you left unfulfilled?

 How many trusts shattered and promises broken?

          In order to congruently end the relationship 'for good', people somehow delete or reframe the many positive experiences that they shared with  the other persons.

In doing so, all the negative memories, attributes and habits that the person  had previously overlooked would come into the foreground of people's  awarenness, while the positive ones would recede into the background.

Suddenly the rose tinted shades become jaundiced.

And love turns to hate.

And hate solidifies into cold indifference.

This is what you  should do if you want to break up for good.

Trust me.

It works.

Quantum of Solace is a story of a relationship where the worst is brought out of a man, when he is denied that 'Quantum of Solace' that ought to be given to maintain his dignity as a functioning social being in a  society and by crossing the threshold by actions that  arouse his deepest fears and feral survival instincts.

I liked Ian Fleming's Quantum of Solace.(Not the movie)

The pdf attachment will tell you the rest of the story.

Hint: It is a love story.         

        NOT.

Attachment: Fleming, Ian - James Bond -Quantum Of Solace.pdf

Is currently writing a story about...

A ladies man, who has the power to seduce any women he wants.

He was born on March 8th.

He has a secret technique up his sleeve called the 'soul gaze of seduction', wherein he can look into your soul and make it stir deep within and hold you in a thrall.

Obviously, the story is a fantasy targeting male readers who have had the same level of success with women as the author.

The story is not autobiographical in any way.(but the author wishes it was)

(The picture of Homer Simpson is for illustrative purposes only.Niether Matt Groening nor Fox Broadcasting Company are affiliated with the aforementioned fictional story)

 

The Name's Joe .

Once upon a time there was a man called Joe
The name's Joe , He said to everyone, 'Average Joe'
What was truly unique about Average Joe was that he was truly average.
There was not single trait of his that was unique.
He was as average as anyone could be, impossibly average.
Unfortunately, everything was about to be changed.
Average Joe fell into the hands of an evil  media corporation(Are there any non-evil corporations?).They were ecstatic.
They had struck  oil in a gold mine.
No longer did they have to rely on market surveys and demographics and mind numbing data crunched out by statisticians.
They just had to ask Joe.
Because what was unique about joe was that he was average.

Hey Joe, what do like in a toothpaste ? Do you prefer minty freshness or sparkling white teeth ?
And Joe told them.

Hey Joe, how many times do you have sex last week?What positions do you prefer ?
And Joe told them.

Hey Joe,which colour suits this car better,pearl or oxblood ?
And Joe told them.

And what Joe told them was what the average joe wanted
.
Joe was truly the man of the masses.
He was the reflection of the society.
He was a walking goldmine of advertising data.
Thanks to Joe  many data analysis software became obsolete.
Number crunching was dead.
Market surveys were dead.
Statistics were dead.

The Name's Joe.
Just ask Joe.

All the unemployed statisticians were furious that an Average Joe had the temerity to steal their jobs and render them jobless.So they formed a secret cabal, an unholy nexus of statisticians that was intent on killing Joe and creating a new world order.(Of course their primary objective was to kill Joe , but creating a new world order solely run by statisticians seemed like a good idea too !)
They called themselves the Surly Statisticians or the 'SS'.

Statisticians did what they did best.
They calculated that he was ninety nine percent more likely to be killed by a car crash than win a lottery.
They also asked Joe.

Hey Joe, what do you think is more likely, you winning the lottery or being served to the homeless as roadkill ?
And Joe told them.

So they bought him a rigged lottery ticket, hoping that he would be killed when he tried to cash it.
That never happened.
Instead Joe ,like everyone else , forgot about the ticket, and lost it.
Joe was safe.
At least for now.

The SS was angry. No actually they were surly that their best laid plans went bust.

This is what led to the eventual downfall of Average Joe
Average Joe was getting rich thanks to  his hefty paychecks (from his work as a media consultant).
Average Joe was rich.

The SS began to notice that Joe was spewing out incorrect data.
Soon the quality of his information degraded to a point where it was labeled as a mere speculative opinion.
This was bad news.
                             Opinions were like assholes.Everybody had one.And a lot of shit came out of it.
Now everybody in the media business knew that Joe was no longer useful if what he gave was only opinions full of shit.
Poor Joe.
Average Joe was out.
The SS no longer wanted to kill Joe.

This is what led to the eventual downfall of Average Joe.
Average Joe was getting richer and falling farther away from the median.
He had ceased to be average.
He was no longer Average Joe.

He was Joe.
Just Joe.

Just another dude with plenty of opinions about the world.
 Opinions are like assholes...You probably have heard this before.
But at least the Surly Statisticians were relieved .
Within a few weeks all of them got their jobs back.
And Joe ?
Who cares.
He was no longer average.
He was unique just like the rest of us.

Nimath(english science fiction)

Nimath (n) : The events that take place after the end.

The last entry from the journal of Dr.Conrad Paguntalan Jr :-

One word keeps repeating itself in my head these days "Nimath"
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Have you ever noticed
              the antinomy
                                 in the dichotomy
That as days drag on
                          weeks fly past ,
Months trudge ahead
                         as years flit away
And when we say
                       that  times have changed,
        it is we
                   who have changed the most ?

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
     Is it normal that
      sometimes I feel like
                           A Fraud
                                A Fake
                 A Grand deciever
    caught in a giant sticky web
                        of self deception,
                                     A pretender
                   keeping a farcial facade
                                  in a parody of life ?

                                               Or that  I
                         Issue open challenges
              to the powers that might be
                                   to smite me,
     Make me cease from existence
                                       Curious ,
                                 Just to see,
               If it makes any sense
                             and if at all
                   any difference ?
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Nimath
the glassy glazed emptiness
Mapthaput
The sheer ridiculousness
nikhatborat
all these jactitatious perversions
cabigayongahindiapo
tubbatha boholified prostation of  everyone
antipode of the ultimate
nimath the only path
nimath the nilpotent
nimath the nihil
nimath the vacuous void
Its all nimath
there's nothing beyond
nothing above,
below ,ahead or behind
Nimath

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
(sidenote)
It is a well known fact that Dr Conrad Paguntalan Jr. the  eminent physicist and nobel laureate  commited suicide on 20/11/2184 by consuming 1nanogram of antimatter.It was also well known (atleast among the scientific community) that he was on the verge of a groundbreaking discovery , the final nail in the coffin of the Grand Unified Theory.
What he had managed to do, in layman's terms , was to look into ,through and beyond a singularity , or more commonly known  as a black hole .
What he found beyond , or what he made out of it is not known at this time , but it is widely believed that he had coined a term 'Nimath' for what he saw beyond the impossible.
Since this was the last journal entry was found beside his deceased body , we can conclude that this was his suicide note .
The unusual use of verse with compound Anglo-saxon and south east asian idiom  might hold the key to uncovering the secrets that he left behind (for unfortunately he had destroyed his experiment logs and all other journals.)
We as fellow scientists will endeavour our best to uncover what Dr.Paguntalan discovered but refused to share with the rest of the world( for whatever reasons .)
The world will sorely miss the sheer intellect of Dr.Paguntalan.
The scientific community will miss the genius scientific revolutionary.
I miss my best friend .
Goodbye Conrad,
May you find peace in Nimath.
(and yes Conrad , I'm the monkey , not you )

p.s.
Nimath (n) : The events that take place after the end.
(This is the best I could define nimath with the limited intellect that I possess)

Further reading :
What is a singularity ?
                                        In Physics and Mathematics, singularity is defined as a point at which a complex function is undefined because it is neither differentiable nor single-valued while the function is defined in every neighbourhood of the point. Specifically, a quantity which approaches infinity as another parameter goes to zero. Like 1/x when x approaches zero. In astronomy, singularity is a hypothetical region in space in which gravitational forces cause matter to be infinitely compressed and space and time to become infinitely distorted.

Imaginary

"I'm writing this new story in which the hero shaves off his pubic hair"

"But"

"Hush ! I'm talking.For many days his dick..."

"Penis !"

"Penis , dick,whatever looks entirely alien to him.Not that he hasn't seen aliens , but his dick looks like a hybrid chimera of a baby elephant trunk and a  turkey neck with wattles"

"But"

"I'm still talking.
So , He is very proud of his new accomplishment.Everyday he stands in front of the mirror and jumps up and down.He imagines that he is now a porn star like TT Boy or Peter North who have steel peckers that can ram endlessly into any orifice"

"But"

"Okay , go ahead, but you are very rude to be interrupting me this way "

"But , I thought angels didn't have any .."

"That's where you are wrong.Angels were built with precision and perfection.God did not build us out of his own image.That's a fallacy.In fact God first built the angels, sort of prototypes, who were perfect in every way .They have all the organs in perfect proportions"

"Hey ! I once saw about an angel with eight vaginas in HBO"

"Shut Up ! There are no angels with eight vaginas.After all we are talking about god here.He's not some mad scientist "

"But, I've heard of these girls in thailand with 'Vagina Dentata'.You know teeth inside their...you know what ...they can slice cucumbers, break razor blades and reduce cigars to mere stubs in three puffs with their you know whats.
                                                     Hey ! I remember a joke once I heard a friend say.You know , there is this man who is convinced of that his wifey's you know what has teeth and they will bite his thingie off if he tried to ...you know...consumnate his marriage and "

"Shut up ! How dare you utter vile jokes ! You are angering the Gods"

"But I thought you were an atheist that you don't believe in god "

"Hush,even  the great French mathematician Blaise Pascal reckoned that, however long the odds against God's existence might be, there is an even larger asymmetry in the penalty for guessing wrong. You'd better believe in God, because if you are right you stand to gain eternal
bliss and if you are wrong it won't make any difference anyway. On the other hand, if you don't believe in God and you turn out to be
wrong you get eternal damnation, whereas if you are right it makes no difference. On the face of it the decision is a no-brainer. So I have decided to Believe in God."

"So now you are a coward like Pascal"

"No there is more proof.Remember  the old man in Aldous Huxley's Point Counter Point who discovered a mathematical proof of the
existence of God.You know the formula, m over nought equals infinity, m being any positive number? Well, why not reduce the
equation to a simpler form by multiplying both sides by nought. In which case you have m equals infinity times
nought. That is to say that a positive number is the product of zero and infinity. Doesn't that demonstrate the
creation of the universe by an infinite power out of nothing?
Doesn't it? Doesn't It ?"

"Your'e losing it dude"

"Not really.We have from times immemorial attributed godlike qualities to often inanimate or intangible agents and sometimes counterintuitively to inferior animals.
J. Anderson Thomson, from his perspective as an evolutionary psychiatrist, points  to an
additional reason, the psychological bias that we all have towards personifying inanimate objects as agents. As Thomson says, we are
more inclined to mistake a shadow for a burglar than a burglar for a shadow. A false positive might be a waste of time. A false negative
could be fatal. He suggested that, in our ancestral past, our greatest challenge in our environment came from each other.
'The legacy of that is the default assumption, often fear, of human intention. We have a great deal of difficulty seeing anything
other than human causation.' We naturally generalized that to divine intention.We need god to cover up our basic inabilities in many areas .
Inability to understand the universe, inability to predict the outcome , inability to predict the future,inability to fight with the elements etc etc."

"We also need someone to relate to .Someone almost human , yet divine.Carl Sagan put it well: '. . . if by "God" one means the set of physical laws that govern the universe, then clearly thereis such a God. This God is emotionally unsatisfying . . . it does not make much sense to pray to the law of gravity."


"Okay , you convinced me .I too have decided to believe in god.So tell me more about your angel"

"Okay , now if you know a little about catholic mythology we have the four Choirs of Angelic Hosts, arrayed in nine orders: Seraphim, Cherubim, Thrones, Dominions, Virtues,Powers, Principalities, Archangels (heads of all hosts), and just plain old Angels, including our closest friends, the ever-watchful
Guardian Angels. What impresses me about Catholic mythology is partly its tasteless kitsch but mostly the airy nonchalance with
which these people make up the details as they go along. It is just shamelessly invented.

                            So my angel is a non-union angel.He is not affliliated with any god or religion.He is a loosley theistic angel.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Let's remind ourselves of the terminology. A theist believes in a supernatural intelligence who, in addition to his main work of creating the universe in the first place, is still around to oversee and influence the subsequent fate of his initial creation. In many theistic belief systems, the deity is intimately involved in human affairs. He
answers prayers; forgives or punishes sins; intervenes in the world by performing miracles; frets about good and bad deeds, and
knows when we do them (or even think of doing them). A deist, too, believes in a supernatural intelligence, but one whose activities
were confined to setting up the laws that govern the universe in the first place. The deist God never intervenes thereafter, and certainly
has no specific interest in human affairs. Pantheists don't believe in a supernatural God at all, but use the word God as a nonsupernatural
synonym for Nature, or for the Universe, or for the lawfulness that governs its workings. Deists differ from theists in
that their God does not answer prayers, is not interested in sins or confessions, does not read our thoughts and does not intervene
with capricious miracles. Deists differ from pantheists in that the deist God is some kind of cosmic intelligence, rather than
the pantheist's metaphoric or poetic synonym for the laws of the universe. Pantheism is sexed-up atheism. Deism is watered-down
theism.So angels have their place only in a theistic realm."

"What else is going on for your angel ?"

"Well , since he isn't associated with any religion , he is free to wear any kind of clothes.He chooses to wear a cowboy outfit  with the usual  ten-gallon, or broad-brimmed hat that shields his head from sun and rain, a kerchief pulled over the lower part of his face which protects it from dust, tight pants faced with leather chaps protect his legs from insects and brush, and boots with high heels prevent his feet from slipping out of the stirrups.He also carries a revolver and a lariat, or lasso, made fast to the saddle horn for roping cattle "

"I guess he calls himself John Wayne "
"Your'e right.God created him with a purpose, but never named him.So instead of having names like azipharael or hypnotael , he decided that John Wayne was much cooler"

"Hey, God did not forget to give him a name.I'm sure"
"Of course,God cannot forget.But he moves in mysterious ways .His mysterious ways have been suitably demonstrated by a hypothesis, which in a sentence explains why his word(gita, bible, koran) do not match with archaelogical proof. Or why dinosaurs are extinct , or why birds can fly "

"Or pigs cannot ! So what is this hypothesis ?"

"I'm coming to that.Let me go off tangent this once.I once had written about Capt.Dhoomketu, a celestial navigator, the master  onboard S.S Chandrayana who met god as  he left the Solar System.
Yes , Capt.Dhoomketu was delighted that God was indeed looking at them , at every one , every second , dealing out justice and destiny to every one .
God was called Rupert Murdoch.
He had a celestial Fox with him which was actually  a giant TV station.His Holiness Rupert Murdoch was the creator,producer and director and distributer of the 'HWEUGGHS UGHA1@KLAREEEJK ' which when translated  properly into any human language simply reads "The Earth Show'.Reality TV was good for business.
It had 6 billion channels and was growing rapidly !
On free channels , one could could watch the usual crap which dealt with lives of celebrities and sportstars , but if you really wanted the juicy tender meat , you could try Pay-per-view.You could choose any human you wanted and would be able to watch his or her life till the end (which was the unfortunate human's death).
Pay-Per-views were expensive* , but the elite and rich preferred a commoner's life to the empty vacuous life of a celebrity.
(* only 34 crudillions per human;Special Vernal Equinox Discount -buy two get one absolutely free ! Hurry Hurry .Offer Valid till stocks last)
Rupert Murdoch had an earthly counterpart , a human manifestation of the heavenly Rupert Murdoch.Earth Rupert Murdoch (henceforth known as ERM ) was the god of small things, viz Earth ,Moon,Mercury ,Venus, Mars (But not the little green men on Mars) and the asteroid belt (which he inetended to crash into earth on a later date) & moons of jupiter.(Capt.Dhoomketu now knew How Murdoch topped the forbes list almost every year)
Celestial Rupert Murdoch  was on the other hand theGod of all the other things within the solar system other than that owned by his subsidiary corporate entity ERM.

"Ha ha .Was that story supposed to be funny ?It bored me to tears.I think that for you everything is a farce."

                                         "Its true.Life is a tragicomical farce.Believe me, thats how it looks like when you are sufficiently detached from it .Kurt Vonnegut was the king of farce. His ' Breakfast of champions' is a perfect example.Once you read it you'll find that Kilgore Trout meets his maker i.e Kurt Vonnegut himself .There are references to shaved beavers and assholes throughout this one hell of a farce majeure.I was sufficiently inspired by his writings to write this angel story."

"Also , my angel masturbates a lot.I'll explain why in the story.(hint: He is trying to live.He is trying to kill himself.)He has different grips ...."

"But what about the God hypothesis ?"

"Oh Yeah , God hypothesis...it is covered in a sentence, but it explains a lot."

"This is it .The God Hypothesis.Write it down somewhere."

"Yeah , Yeah , Go on , tell me "

"Are you sure ?"

"I'm sure "

"Positive ?"

"Tell me the goddamned hypothesis, oops sorry god "

"Ok .Here it is "

"GOD IS INEFFABLE"

"What ?WTF ?Are you kidding me ?You mother#$%$^......."

Metaphor

Once, a famous teacher was returning home from an important lecture he had just delivered to a
group of esteemed colleagues, and was absorbed in the accolades he had received. His route took him
along a beach-side boardwalk where something caught his eye. A young boy on the beach was building the largest and most elaborate sand castle the teacher had ever seen. The child was respectfully
scooping the sand up in his hands, then patting it firmly yet gently into place. He had carefully created
towers and turrets, dug a moat, and raised flags, in total absorption.

When the boy completed his impressive work of art, he rested back on the sand, appearing to
admire his own work. Then, suddenly, he leapt forward, jumped on the castle, smashed it down,
spread it over the sand, and watched as wave after wave washed away any evidence of its existence. It
was as though the castle had never existed.

The teacher was shocked.
What a waste! Why should such an achievement be obliterated? Why would a creator destroy his own work?
He walked across the beach and asked the boy, “Why do youspend so much time and effort building such a huge and elaborate castle only to break it down?”

“My parents have asked me the same question,” confided the boy. “My mother sees something
very symbolic in it, but then that is my mother. She tells me that each grain of sand is like each aspect
of humanity. Together they can form something impressive but, when we forget about our relationships
with others and try to exist like a solitary grain of sand, something is destroyed in much
the same way that I destroy a castle, or that the ocean breaks it up into millions of pieces and disperses
it along the beach.

“My father says it is a way of learning about life. Nothing lasts forever. Like sand castles, everything
is created and destroyed, exists and vanishes, is impermanent. When we appreciate this we can
begin to enjoy the time that we have available. He says that building sand castles is a way that children
intuitively come to learn and understand these important lessons of life.

“For me?” asked the boy. “For me, I am just playing. I just want to enjoy what I am doing and
have fun.”

The lecturer untied his shoelaces and cast aside his footwear. He peeled off his socks and rolled up his trousers. He un-knotted his tie and sat down beside the boy, asking, “May I stay and play with you?

Fall Out (Valentine's Day special)

“I fell OUT of love. People think you can only fall INTO love. But you can also fall out of love,” said Jay.

“How?” I asked him.

This was the last time I'd see him.Two months later he moved to USA , got married and got settled.

Jay said “I thought about the time I went sailing. You see, I once went out  sailing and I saw a sunset. It was beautiful; we were the only boat on the sea, and all around there was nothing but water, water, water. Big water, lazy, and dark blue like a piece of candy. The sky was orange. And on the horizon was this huge red sun, and it was dipping down into the water like it was putting its own fire out. That sun was the biggest and most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my life. Anyway, I got out my camera and I took a picture of the sunset, and waited for the film to be developed, just picturing that big beautiful sun in my mind, and how great the pictures would be when they came back.

Then I got the pictures back.

What a disappointment!
Each photo was mostly water, and there was only a tiny red pinpoint for the sun. That wasn’t the way I had seen the
sunset in my mind!
I guess when you're out there in the emptiness and the waves, and there's only one object in all that empty space, your mind gets screwed up and you think that the object a lot bigger than it really is. Your mind magnifies the sun. Your perspective gets distorted. Since the sun is the only thing on the empty horizon, and there’s nothing to compare it to, it looks absolutely gigantic.”

“Well, what does all this have to do with Anita?” I asked.
“Oh yeah. I was having the coffee on the lawn, and I was falling down this mental hole-- hopelessly in love with Anita. And because she was the only thing on my mind, and there was no other feeling to compare her to, she seemed more important than anything or any person in the world.
See, when you're feeling empty, and there's only one person on your mind, she looks like the biggest, brightest star on the horizon.
But what if it’s all a perspective trick? An illusion.
A mental mind game?
What if you’re only obsessed with her because there’s nothing else on the emotional landscape to compare her to ?

Well anyway, while I'm having this coffee, this old friend named Tulsi comes up to me. Tulsi was a friend
of an old girlfriend of mine named Vijeta. So Tulsi and I do a little small talk and out of the blue Tulsi asks me if I made any chocolate chip cookies lately. Small talk, you know. So I say to Tulsi, 'No, not lately. Hey, how did you know that my hobby used to be making chocolate chip cookies?’
And Tulsi says, ‘Don't you remember? You used to make them for Vijeta. I got together with Vijeta and a
couple of girlfriends last weekend, and we got to talking about old times, and she mentioned that you always made the best chocolate chip cookies.’
Vijeta was my old girlfriend, my former lover before we broke up. At the mention of Vijeta's name, I felt
something hit me. An old familiar magic. I remembered Vijeta. I remembered her face, and the little curve of her
ear, and how we were lovers. It was like a door opening, because suddenly all these old feelings and memories that Ihad put away came flooding back.
After Tulsi left I started thinking about the old times with Vijeta and how much Vijeta and I had meant to each other in those days. And yes, I used to bake her cookies, and a lot of other stupid things like that.
And now in my head at that moment I started comparing my old feelings for Victoria with my recent feelings for Anita. And it was really strange. Because when there was only Anita, and I had nothing to compare my feelings about her to, then Anita seemed like the most important person in the world. But when I started comparing my feelings about Anita to my old feelings about Vijeta, then Anita suddenly didn't seem as important as before. In my thoughts, in my priorities, Anita’s importance began to slowly shrink from mountain to mole hill. I felt myself climbing out of a mental hole. I wasn't obsessed with Anita anymore-- she wasn't ‘the only person.’ She was just one of anumber of people I've felt strongly about. Anita was no longer this all-important goddess figure.
After I thought about Victoria I had my perspective back again.
Can you believe it?
 I actually fell OUT of love!

But that's the weird thing about it-- everyone knows you can fall in love, but few people know the trick to making yourself
to fall out of love.”

Jay claims that with practice, he keeps falling in and out of love these days.

Long Live Frogs(Valentine's Day Special)

“You never see it coming.” said my  friend Steve,when I questioned him about his surprise breakup with Patty.
“One minute you're going along like everything's fine, andthe next minute she says, “It's the last straw. It's over.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean women always pretend like men are the silent ones, the ones who never communicate-- when really
it's the other way around. Things were going great. I called her every night. As usual, we went out together every few
days in spite of my heavy work schedule. Sure, we had some minor disagreements but they came and they passed, and the situations didn't seem to be connected. As for me, I always forgave her. I was the one who apologized every time,
whether it was my fault or not.”
“How did it end?” I asked.
“Normally I work in San Diego, but I got assigned to a work site up nearSan Francisco for six months. It was a six-hour drive, but I drove back down every weekend to see Patty. The assignment ended, and I returned to San Diego.
Things went smoothly for about two months. Then, after we argued about a movie (of all things!), she sent me an email letter saying that in her view, each argument of our arguments had gotten worse and worse and this was the last straw and she wasn't going to take me back. I didn’t know what she was talking about. Sure, we had some arguments over the course of the five years that I’d known her, but they were nothing. I mean, like, we were arguing over stupid stuff like which restaurant we were going to. I didn’t think it meant any big deal.

She sent me the email on my birthday. The email message said 'do not read until after your birthday.’ Maybe she didn’t want to spoil my birthday. But I was too curious,so I read it. In so many words, the letter announced she was breaking up with me. It really spoiled my birthday.
After that I tried to call her-- I practically laid siege to her apartment, but Patty wouldn't speak to me. Later, one of her friends told me she had been hanging around with this other guy while I was away working those six months in San Francisco. And about a month after the breakup Patty comes up and says to me, 'I just want you to know I still think of you as a friend.
Let's just be friends.’ But it's all bull. The thing is, she never told me anything about how she felt. I thought each disagreement was forgiven and forgotten. Then she hits me with the bomb. Plus, she was seeing this guy Bill behind my back.”

Steve’s story was interesting, but his girlfriend Patty also happened to be a friend of mine. I asked Patty about the  same events and got her version of the story.
In Patty's view:
“Steve and I were having arguments. Each argument seemed to get worse and worse. After each argument we
broke up, but Steve always begged for forgiveness and I always took him back. But both of us silently knew the really big breakup was coming and it was just a matter of time.”
“Did you ever talk to him about it?” I asked.
“I never talked about it with him because I didn't want to aggravate the situation. Then Steve left for a six month project. I thought it would give both of us a little fresh air. But I was depressed a lot, so I spent a lot of time with an old friend, Bill. Bill really cheered me up; he was a really nice guy. Do you think it’s possible for a woman to be in love with two guys at the same time? Anyway, then one day the big break-up happened. Later I started going out withBill.”

I asked Patty, “How were you able to cope with the break up?”

“Getting a new boyfriend was the best medicine for me. Getting a new boyfriend helped me forget about Steve. But I still think about him sometimes, when I'm alone.”

I asked Steve how he managed to keep from getting depressed after the breakup.

“At first I was angry. But I wasn't angry at Patty. And I wanted to punch this scum Bill. Then I was depressed. I
started driving a lot. I figured if I drove far enough or fast enough the angry thoughts would leave me.”

“Did it work?”

“Yeah, it worked okay. But I got into a car wreck; you can't really drive too well when you're wrapped up in
your thoughts. Anyway, the insurance paid for the accident, but now my insurance rates have gone up.”

“Yeah.” I agreed. “Those insurance guys make a lot of money. So what finally happened?”

“While I was in the hospital my friends visited me and I talked to them a lot, to get things off my chest. In the
hospital I also saw a lot of people worse off than myself and I started to feel like my problems weren't as big as theirs. Like this one guy had cancer. And another guy had a lung problem. Too much smoking, I think. So I figured if I joined a volunteer group, I'd see lots of people with terrible problems, and I'd stop feeling sorry for myself because everyone else was even worse off. So I joined the ‘Amigos De Las Americas’ as a medical volunteer. You practice Spanish, giving first aid, and inoculations, and they send you to poor countries in the summer. It worked great.”

“You mean the volunteer work really took your mind off your problems?”

“Yeah. Even better than that, not only did I keep my mind off my problems, but I also helped a lot of people, and I met a lot of nice girls at Amigos. Really cheerful and adventurous types. I mean, it should be obvious that people who do volunteer work have good personalities and a lot of energy, but I never figured it would be a great place to meet
women. Yeah, I made a lot of good friends.”

“That's great, Steve,” I said. “Did you find any other ways of getting over your depression?”

“Well, the turning point of my depression was when I did something really crazy.”

“What?”

“There was this science professor who used to keep live frogs in an aquarium at the biology tab. He intended to
tie the frogs-- while they were still alive and awake-- towooden chopping boards, so that his biology students could dissect the frogs the next day, to see what was inside their bodies.
 I thought it was cruel, so that night I sneaked into the lab and stole all the frogs. Around midnight, I went down to a nearby river and let each frog go free, one by one. As I held each frog, I named each one after an old girlfriend before I let it go.

Goodbye, Geena. Goodbye Mary Anne. And so on.
The last frog was the largest and I held it the longest before letting it go. I named it Patty. It was very therapeutic. I felt a kind of catharsis come over me. A feeling of letting go.”
“Do you still miss Patty?” I asked him.
Steve said, “Oh man, Don't ask me that. Well, I'll live"
 
And I muttered  "Long live Frogs ...Long live Frogs...We don't need any princesses to rescue us "

Dateless Wonder

     So , you have fallen in  love with her.

       Ho -Hum.Let me yawn magnificently and display my profound lack of interest and boredom.
Were you waiting for the right time ?
And while biding your time , was your mind filled with fantasies where you foresaw a lovely future with her , where you were a stud superstar who impaled her with your mighty staff -making her moan and beg for more , like the girls in one of those movies you watch but are ashamed to admit ?

      So , what now , once you had gathered enough juice in your family jewels .
Were you man enough to approach her , your true love ?
Were you man enough to say - I love you ?

      I know your problem.You say to your shrink " Hey Doc , I don't need Prozac , I need a girlfriend" .
Grow up kiddo , we've all been there.
True love , Ha ! you just don't fall in love with any girl on the street and then tell me it is true love.

        So , tell me then...What did happen ? What were the outcomes you envisioned ?Did you think she'd scream in delight when you declared your undying love for her ?
Did quiet tears of happiness roll down her 'Oh-so-soft-and-sweet' cheeks when you dropped down on your knees and proclaimed your everlasting love ?
Or was she the cool type, who simply smiled back and asked you "what took you so long , moron ?"

        Wait , Don't tell me , you also had a worst case scenario , in which she kneed you in the groin (which is why you wore a cup , just in case ), called the cops and got a restraining order and a court injunction to castrate you.
           Wait , don't surprise me now...even your worst case scenario had a silver lining.Just before the cops castrated you , she realized that she loved you all along and then  she came back to you and made you hers forever.
But No , Now she must suffer a little , you decide .You won't mace her off course  ,or cal the cops .You will hurt her by making her wait .Ah...Isn't revenge sweet ?

      Well now , what really happened ? Let me hazard a guess.
Your family jewels are intact , you probably never went to the slammer either.
She probably wasn't the kind of girl who'd knee every guy who proposed to her .Phew ! What a relief !

But she neither got elated ,nor did she have any tears of joy , did she ?Tell me honestly - wasn't the look on her face a look of utter confusion ?Why was she so uncomfortable when you told her that she was the only girl that you've ever loved ?Wasn't this the part where she was supposed to feel extremely special ?Then why was she squirming , honestly , tell me .
Did you even notice that she was squirming ? I bet you didn't .Why did she give you the lame excuse that she was already in a relationship with someone else.C'mon you already knew that it was a lie.After all, you have been stalking her for the last three months.

And now what ? why isn't she answering your calls ?She's probably got caller Id, that bitch !So what about those SMSes ? No reply ! Hmmm...makes you wonder doesn't it ?What about emails , voicemails , instant messages? Nope , no luck whatsoever.
Sheesh ! Not a single reply , even after you sent her pictures  of those cute and cuddly photogenic kittens and puppies.Man ! She has a lump of coal for a heart , don't you think ?

  Well, since you've asked , let me give the synopsis .Considering your worst case scenario, you haven't done too bad.No swollen balls , no cops , no jail , no restraining order , well you get my point don't you ?
But considering your goals , you my man , suck big time.

And pray tell me , why have you come to me ?Wait , let me guess again.You want a wise man's counsel.I laugh at your bad luck. Ha ha ha , because you have come to the man who was once known as the 'dateless wonder'.

First let me tell you this.It is a disclaimer.I cannot read minds .But I guess , and I do it well.So lets hazard a guess as to what might have gone in your true love's head on that fateful and eventful day.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
        There she was , walking , minding her own business.Her mind's at turmoil.She's a good girl at heart , but lately she's had wicked thoughts and she now feels guilty.

She's also worried about her future, her career , her finances , her love life (not necessarily in that order ).
 In short , she's just your average girl, or so she thinks .

  And then you pop out of the woodwork .She sees you fumble.Mental Alarms bells ring - AAAAA-OOOOO-GAAAAA , AAAAA-OOOOO-GAAAAA , AAAAA-OOOOO-GAAAAA , AAAAA-OOOOO-GAAAAA .

Too late.Her bitch shield is up now.Its fight or flight mode.Nothing you say will make her agree.

       Aah, but its only you...she  now relaxes a bit , lets her guard down a little.,..and then what ? And then she hears a pathetic "I love you ".If only you were less pathetic.

'Love? You love me? Why ? Why do you love me ? OHMYGODHOWDOIGETOUTOFTHISMESS ?'

Alarms bells start ringing again.
AAAAA-OOOOO-GAAAAA , AAAAA-OOOOO-GAAAAA , AAAAA-OOOOO-GAAAAA , AAAAA-OOOOO-GAAAAA .
Panic sets in.

While you were fumbling through your three-page recitation of love , she was busy formulating an escape plan.
               You probably didn't notice it , but she was silently pleading you to stop.You would have understood , if only you read her eyes.It was embarrassing her.Her friends were snickering at her.She thought it was a prank , but slowly it dawned to her that it was not.Onlookers stared as they passed by.She didn't want any drama, no conflicts , and right now , if you read her eyes , you would see in them that the only thing she wanted was to disappear, but you are relentless.

        She gave you the first excuse that came to her mind.Not really .Her first excuse was that she was mourning because her cat morris died yesterday, but then she didn't have a cat , and you know that.

So is she in a relationship ?No , she feels horrible when she  lies , but she wants you to back-off respectfully-while still keeping your dignity in one piece.
But there you are , always missing the subtle hints.

           And then the calls, the Smses , the emails ( she's sick of those cutesy kittens )They irritate her , disrupt her , infuriate her and make her feel a deep sense hatred for you .

Here's a secret though.She's secretly flattered that someone out there was attracted towards her.Its not everyday that someone tells her that he loves her.

But here's the truth:She isn't feeling particularly attracted towards you.Sure , you think you are handsome (every one does) , rich hardworking and successful in your own way-but she doesn't feel the tingling in the small of her back whenever she sees you or when she thinks of you.
Her face does not flush when your near.When you touch -there is no spark.
There is zero chemistry-this she concludes after examining and analysing every interaction she has ever had with you .
In short , You do not make her feel -which is really important.

Ten years from now , she coldly calculates that if she still hasn't found true love -she might consider you.But as if now , she still has time on her side and there is still hope.

My dear and uninformed and uneducated friend .There is a way to find a way to a woman's heart.The way is difficult , convoluted and tricky  and you lose your way often.I'm not going to waste my time teaching you ways to win a woman's heart.Its not my battle anyway, but without attraction , she is bound to say no.

Son , luckily , you have come to the right person , if I think I know what you are about to do.I wouldn't recommend you taking the same path as I did for the same reasons.I was an escapist at that time , I realize that now.

Son, Swami PRabhupadananda was once called the 'Dateless wonder'.He too fell in love , then crashed and burned ,fled the country and became a monk in a country where he thought snake charmers and elephants roamed everywhere.
The dateless wonder would have advised you to take a similar path , to avoid heartache again, but I Swami Prabhupadanada have learnt a lot in the following years.I still talk in my american accent whenever I see someone from my native country-but I've changed.
Son , God may never approve my advice , but here's something painfully real- she'll never be yours.You've simply blown your chances by begging for love.But , there are plenty of fish in the ocean.So happy fishing  and may Lord Krshna be with you.Now chant hare rama hare krshna , hare hare krshna krshna ,rama rama krshna krshna, hare hare krshna krshna , rama rama krshna krshna...

E-Love

There was a girl I met over the internet who would only respond once in a while , making me wait as long as she wanted , for a reply , if any at all.At one point I decided to put a stop to it.I wrote her the following little story.

                                             "I know its hard for anyone to recognize when they meet the person they want to share thier lives with, especially with the overload of information and male congestion on the internet.But sometimes I think that mother nature provides food for every little bird in this world but that doesn't mean that it will drop it in its nest.People are the same way.There is someone out there for every one of us, but we will still have to go out there and find him or her.

With that in mind , I cannot help but look at the future and see a young woman asking her grandmother for advice in the matters of heart and love.You look at your own grand daughter with love in your eyes , speaking in a kind voice , recaling moments from your youth when you weren't sure whether your heart was melting for the right man .Then you smile and tell her to trust her own heart even if her mind says no , because there was a time when a young man was desperately trying to get your attention but for some reason could not find his way into your heart.Just before you decided to put an end to the misery , he wrote one compelling letter straight from the heart thats when you knew he was the man who deserved your love.Your mind was still not convinced but you decided to let things happen at least for the sake of finding out for sure .Though it wasn't immediate, your heart and mind surrendered to the power of love.Had i given up at first , we wouldn't be talking about matters of heart and love my dear girl , for that young man was none other than your grand daddy "

That one e-mail made her not want to miss out on such a perfect future.

Sleep Easy: Its Time for new beginnings

"I Hope you realize that you have got the most fabulous girl in this town " she said looking at him in jest.

"I know you are " he finally answered "I've spent many years meeting all kinds of girls, and out of all of them , I chose you "

It was true .He meant it.In his opinion , it was the most beautiful thing he had said in a long time.And after he spoke it , he realized it wasn't entirely accurate.If there was anything he had learned , it was that the man never chooses the woman.All he can do is give her an opportunity to choose him.

As he contemplated , she had drifted off.Her chest rose and dropped lightly. She was no longer awake.Sandman has claimed her for himself.She lay next to him .Serene .Content.

'She may die next morning ,or  I may die next morning' He thought as he thought of human existence and its bubble like impermanence.He realized that he must learn to die now.

To choose death now , so that he would never fear it.To relinquish any thoughts of his 'right ' to live.And the 'right' to her life.

The purpose of life was to exist, or so he believed.So , had he fulfilled his purpose? He's been with her for three months now.These were the best three months of his life so far.What future held for him , he did not know.What he knew was that he doesn't deserve her; not even for three minutes.God knew he didn't. But she believed otherwise , to his good fortune.

That night , he slept easy.He still didn't know if he would wake up the next morning, but he slept hoping that he could wake up early and watch her face glow as the first rays of the rising kissed her .

The Last Leg Lock

 

 

 

 

 

Morning rounds.

In the fifth floor of the hospital , in the west wing , I know that a man is sitting up in his bed waiting for me.Chavo Gutiriezz is sixty three, and he is diabetic .It is two weeks since I amputated his left leg just below the knee.I walk down the corridor but do not go straight into his room.Instead , I pause in the doorway.He is not yet aware of my presence , but gazes down at the place in the bed where his leg used to be , and now there is the collapsed leg of his pyjamas.He is totally absorbed , like an athlete appraising his own body.What is he thinking , I wonder.Is he dreaming of the outline of his toes ? Does he see , in its absence , his foot's incandescent ghost? Does his phantom limb still ache? Does he feel that I'm responsible for his loss ? Is he still angry with me?

I watch him from the doorway .Its a kind of spying.I know.

Chavo Gutiriezz is bald , totally-Michael Jordan bald.He is naked to the waist, so I can see his man-breasts.They are samoan breasts, something a sumo would proudly carry on him, the inverted triangles of wobbly adipose tissue from which the nipples swing , dark as garnets.

I've seen enough.Step into the light , Dr.Ramasamy , and reveal yourself I command myself.

"How did the night go Chavo ?"

He looks at me for a moment , "Shut the door" he says.I do , and move to the side of the bed.He takes my left hand in both of his gnarly , stubby rough hands , gazes at it , turns it over , then back , fondling , at last holding it up to his cheek .I do not withdraw from  the loving .After a while he relinquishes my hand , and looks up at me.

"How's the pain ?" I ask

He chooses to ignore the question , but continue looking at me.I know at once he has made his decision.

"You know Doc, you look so much like my son...my son who hasn't spoken to me in years"

"We latinos and you Indianos look a lot alike each other, Doc"

He sighs.The time has come .He must unburden himself.

"Ever heard of The Silver Bane?" he asks , now almost whispering , as if he was letting me on to a secret.

"What?"

"The Silver Bane "he says "You've never heard of him?"   

 "No"

"Ach ! , The Silver Bane ? C'mon doc , remember ..."

All at once , there is a recollection .It is dim , distant , but coming near.

"You mean the wrestler?"

Eagerly he nods , and his man-breasts heave sideways.At sixty three , he is grotesquely huge , with disproportionately longish arms.he looks like a Human-ape chimera.

He wants me to remember.

"Well yes ..." I say , still unsure.

"I saw him wrestle in montreal " I say , "a long , long time ago"

"Hah ! " he smiles triumphantly , "That was me " His smile continues to broaden , now almost ear to ear.

In my profession , patients under morphine and a host of other painkillers often confess to me.Sometimes  I meet   Napoleons, Einsteins and occasionally Ganeshas .But this ? Never !

"You ?" I try to smile , trying my best to hide my incredulity.

"You saw me !"

"No " I begin to say , but then Chavo , with  his longish arms , makes a one legged leap on the bed  leans from his bed and gets a large Brown envelope from his nightstand.

"Wait " He says , rummaging through what  I imagine are photos and newspaper clippings , but I slip away  down the memory lane.

It was almost fifteen years ago .I'm ten years old .Its my first time in montreal .The first thing you notice about Montreal is it is as cold as chennai (Madras in those days)  is hot .Canada embraced  an Indian family of four -A biochemistry professor , a housewife , and their two sons. And we in turn embraced Canada as our new home away from home.

We are out with Uncle Luc , our neighbour and his two sons , our best fiends , Ken and Matt.This is the first time we are going out with some one else other than our family.We are at Maple Leaf Arena , we sit high and near the centre .A ring stands alone in the centre.

It begins.

            The wrestlers circle.They grapple , they  apply choke holds and arm bars .A submission move ends the match.The wrestlers are replaced by another pair.At last it is the main event.The Silver Bane v/s The Spike.

On the cover of the program notes , there is a picture of spike training himself by sleeping on a bed of nails daily.The Spike feels no pain, it is explained , due to his practice taught by an ancient Indian Fakir.The Silver Bane's trademark is a Silver Luchador mask with rectangular slits for eyes and mouth.He is never seen without it , state the program .No one knows who the Silver Bane really is !

"Good " says Uncle Luc "Now you'll see something "

They come down separate aisles , both waving and hi-fiving the cheering crowds.

The Spike shows off his freshly inflicted wounds on his back , the one that he got from sleeping on beds of nails.The crowd booes.He is clearly a heel.

The Silver Bane is a lot smaller .He is short , has ape-ish arms , and pendulous man-breasts that move on their own accord , demonstrating inertia and its effects.He jumps on to the top rope and waves.The crowd roars .

The match begins before the bell is rung.Immediately Silver Bane is held in a vicious headlock but The Silver Bane throws The Spike onto the ropes .Spike is quick .Bouncing off the ropes , he delivers a bone crunching drop kick.The Silver Bane falls with a crack.Was it the sound of the breaking of a bone or was it the cracking of a board ? The Spike quickly lifts Silver Bane and gives him a german Suplex.Silver Bane is down , and The Spike pummels him on the ground.

The Spike goes for a tendon twisting ankle lock and then proceeds with a knee breaking leg lock ..It is visually apparent that it is painful.The Silver Bane does not hide his agony , instead pounds and slaps the floor with his hand , but does not submit .

"Thats not fair " I say "Hurting him like that "

"It's a submission move " Uncle Luc says "its fair"

"But its not fair " I say again .The man is in obvious agony .I can feel the pain.I begin to tremble.

And now , The Spike does something unspeakable.While holding onto the leg lock , he maneuvers himself near The Silver Bane's face , and with one hand , he bends and grasps the mask where it clings to The Silver Bane's head.

And he pulls.

He is going to strip it off ! Lay bare an ultimate carnal mystery ! Suddenly it is beyond mere physical violence.Now I am on my feet , shouting into the Maple Leaf Arena.

"Watch out " I yell "Stop him , please somebody stop him "

Uncle Luc simply chuckles.

Yet The Silver Bane hears me , I know it .And rallies from his bed of pain .He drags himself to the ropes and breaks off the submission hold.The crowd roars.

A quick huricanarana and the The Spike is down.Dazed and confused.A small package by the Silver Bane , and "One ! " Two !"Three !"

The crowd erupts.And I'm stunned to silence by the sudden turn of events .All this I remember as I stand at the bedside of Chavo Gutiriezz.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once again , I'm in the operating room.Its been two years since I amputated the left leg.Now Chavo' s right leg has become gangrenous.

I have already scrubbed .I stand to one side wearing my gown and my gloves.And...I'm masked.

Upon the table lies Chavo Gutiriezz , pinned in a bright fierce light .Spinal anesthesia has been administered.He is hooked on to a multitude of sensors that give constant feedback of his condition.He sleeps, his mouth stuck to a grimace.It seems to me that I have never seen such misery.

An orderly holds Chavo's leg up so that the intern  can paint it with antiseptic.

I still remember , fifteen years ago , he had miraculously escaped from a painful leg lock from the Spike.

"Its not fair" I say out aloud , but no one seems to hear me over  Beethoven playing in the operating room.And I step forward , to make sure that no one will ever put The Silver Bane in a leg lock submission, Forever.

I want It.

Once in her eight month , the doctor had shot her a look across her table.She was a different doctor, more empathetic.She said , "If you don't want this baby , I know plenty of people who do"

"I want it " she lied.

She's read classics.She's read Mills and Boons (some might say they are classics in their own respect , but let us not digress).

She knows what a strong woman , a heroine of a novel would do.

She knows how the plot is supposed to turn out.

Basically she has two choices.One , she could invest all her hopes for her own future in this ambiguous mass of tissue -this foetus , her child.My child , it was always my dream to climb to  the stars.Now tears of joy spring at the sight of your overwhelming success.

The very thought made her sick , sick enough to retch , or maybe it was morning sickness.

Or two , she could abandon the baby and her husband and become really successful and really  evil.Haw haw , she tried to initiate an evil guffaw , but failed.

The second option was far more attractive , but none of her heroines from her worn out novels hadn't done it.None of the real persons whom she knew had done it.And , though an attractive option , she really didn't believe in it.

What , then ? What choice was left her ?

Just like the heroines she had admired , she knew what had to be done.She had to be strong.Strong for her would be husband , strong for her in laws , strong for her mother , strong for her child , strong -for Herself.

Answers were not clear, but a path was hazily forming.The baby would come first, and then all her dreams.She would not abandon her dreams , neither her child.Somehow she would make it all work , somehow.

She often wondered if she was really lying when she said , I want it ?

She decided she was not.

So , once again , Azra looks at her swollen belly and decides to narrate once again.She's been telling her child stories.She's told it everything-her  discovery of pregnancy , her confrontations , her confessions, her past , her present and her yet -undecided future.

She looked at the distended belly and said "I didn't lie " and smiled "I wanted you "

"I'll always love you , its a promise"

The End.

A Wire Hanger

We fought , screamed and cried all night.

"Pregnant before marriage ! , Hai rabba !"

"what about your future?"

"we should have never let you out of the house" mom kept on lamenting.

We both cried that night.

It was , for me a release  of all the pent up emotions.

I didn't cry because karan was worried.I had to be strong.

Then I didn't cry because I was numb.

"What about an abortion ?" mom asked , acting brave .

Why ? The thought had never entered her mind before.

Her Pregnancy seemingly drained her , leaving holes in her memory , voids filled with nothingness , and white noise.

What she knew about abortions , pregnancy or about the act of intercourse was passed around by the other girls in the dormitory , often in hushed voices.

"Ticklish men are extra virgin " One would whisper.

"The first time is always the most painful " another would warn.

"A warm coke , shaken up , is a proven spermicide" giggled another friend , pretending to shake an imaginary coke bottle and put it in her.

" A wire hanger , opened up (sharpened up , somebody had said) , some turpentine and two spoons of sugar and lots of vodka..." someone was describing a method of aborting a foetus in a grave hushed voice.

She hated vodka.She also knows about the girl who attempted this method of abortion and bled to death.

This is suicide , and she knew it .Doctors would be an alternative , but what if it was too late?

 

Somehow , she couldn't muster enough courage.

She wanted to live .She was only twenty-one.

So she forgot about it , till this day , until her mother had brought it up , flooding back unwanted memories.

 

To be continued

Azra

I , Azra Shaukat Rahman , am the only child of Late.Shaukat rahman and Nasreen.

I have introduce myself sometime , otherwise , you'll end up listening to a story by a nameless face, a ghost.Ghosts have no power , and I don't want to be a ghost.I'm alive.

A hazy recollection of my past reveals broken memories-scattered events  , shattered conversations and battered images.

Mom would often say "I wish I was never born a woman" or "I wish you were never born" .Those days I thought she hated me.No , she didn't .She hated being a woman, bound by her religion and bound by her country.

I wish I could understand , but we never talked about it.

Didn't she love me ? Yes she did.

She made sure that I grew up a boy.I didn't ask why , though I wish I did.No dolls , no earrings , no necklaces or anything girly.Instead of skirts and salwars, I was made to wear T-shirts and loose pyjamas.Does this have anything to do with the story ? No . I had to say this to someone who is listening to me , Thats all.

So , for all practical purposes , I was  a boy.

But there were signs that I was not going to remain a boy for long.

"Azra's getting a butt on her just like a girl" remarked Meher , my thirteen year old cousin , when were being bathed together.

"Next thing you know, she'll be  mooning in the mirror and wanting to pluck her eyebrows and colour her lips "

"No way" I said defiantly , yet a bit unsure.

I grew up outside the kitchen , playing with plastic guns with other boys.Yet after thirteen , after the  first time I bled , I was no longer allowed to be with the boys.

I was not a boy.

Then what was I?

"You're  your mama's boy , big and strong, and always dependable" mom would reassure.Sadly the oe person who could save this from happening to me , dad , was too consumed by maintaining a struggling business and coping with alcoholism.

Shaukat Rahman, my dad , was in my life , mostly invisible and tragically irrelevant.

But now I knew.I was a woman.

I would have balked at the Idea that pregnancy would make me complete and hence I was a "Complete Woman"

But at least , I was a woman.

To be continued

OOBE

"Mom , I'm pregnant"-

Again , numbness descends mercifully.

I'm outside myself, hovering above , close to the seep-stained ceiling, watching mom gasp.

Right now, i'm much too miserable to wonder what she sees when she looks at me: her only daughter , the bookish nerd ,the constant daydreamer , the chubby bespectacled mess with large manly feet with splayed toes.The boy/girl who metamorphosed overnight into an almost beautiful (marriage material -mom would have said) girl.

She might look at me and find a girl , who is too miserable to look at her mother in the face , which otherwise might see in her mother's eyes the years of blight and disappointment.

But I do hear what she says:  "Oh , Azra , No !"

To be continued

Its Christmas.

 

Its christmas.A week long vacation gives us a brief respite from mumbai's heat.Mumbai is always hot.Karan always jokes  that mumbai has three seasons i.e "Hot " , Hotter" and "Hottest".He always got me to chuckle on that one , now I don't know why .

I'm back in  Ahmedabad.Mom , who is Begum Nasreen or more properly Nasreen shaukat rahman is doing the laundry.She's been doing it the same way for the last seventeen years :Soak all whites and colours separately , overnight in hot sudsy water.Then , on sunday , take the clothes out of the buckets with a special wooden stick(mom was allergic to detergent) and then transfer the clothes into our rusty Videocon Semi-automatic along with the sudsy water. And I used to help out , with whatever I could do.

A powerful bonding ritual I've been doing for the last 14 years with mom , looking at mom , lost in one of her long silent episodes.Lost in herself.

I too would lose myself , in the middle of playing with soap bubbles....

 

I know I have to tell her that I'm pregnant.

She's talking about college and how lucky I am to be getting college education.

With a twinge of sadness she recounts her past , where women didn't normally pursue education after high school.In fact , high school education would be a privilege to many girls in those days.As a woman , in those days , one's role was limited to being a housewife and wasting money on a housewife's education was not the done thing.

My mom herself was from a village in Bihar , called Begasurai.Married off at sixteen to a city boy who owned a halwai (* sweets shop) in a big city called Ahmedabad had forced her to abandon her innocence and come in terms with the harsh realities of city life.

My mother a strong woman on her own , wanted me to make my mark in this world.She resented the fact that her english was broken .So she made me learn english .I was introduced to T.S.Eliot as well as Mills and Boons.(she wanted me to be exposed to everything , the good and also the generic crap)

English was my first love , but in college I chose to pursue Commerce.India , was booming.I wanted to ride the boom , but more importantly I wanted to be with Karan.We ended up going to the same college for MBA.

But the near future held no college , no graduation , no degree.

I was knocked out of the running by the application of a faulty condom theory.

"Mom" I blurt "I'm Pregnant "

To be continued

Hello?

Why get married at twenty-one ? Why?

Why , when my education is incomplete?

Why?

"Because it is the right thing to do" He tells me , "It is the only thing to do"

"We'll have to tell the folks " He insists "They'll want to know"

Its easy for him.Karan singh , whose parents who live in chandigarh are open minded , forward , modern people.

And then there's the thing about him not being pregnant.

Yet , he is petrified.Instead of calling , he sends them a lengthy E-mail which goes on beating around the bush.The next day they call him , I bet anxiously.I can imagine them gasping at the email that their son has knocked up some girl.

"They want to talk to you" he says finally "   Then  , "Come on !"

I take the phone .Silence.Electric hum greets me. 

I manage to whisper a strangled "Hello?"

"Well ! I guess This is finally the end of college for you !" A serious voice.

But the voice  turns supportive.The future-mother-in law says that whats done is done and she'll be there to help us in any way she can.

This was easy .The hard part is yet to come.

To be continued