INBREEDING DEPRESSION.

I couldn’t see everything. Heavy raindrops refracted the light rays away, which brought a cloudy mask over my vision.  Blond streams of light from a near aside street lamp made the droplets golden. Though there is rain, i felt a sense of silence and realized that silence is a highly subjective phenomenon.

Decades seemed flashes on my mind as it can transcend through time more easily. The journey of my mind gets adapted to the chills on my nerves induced by the cool breeze. I don’t know how far i stood there, but i gradually came to reality when the clouds were all squeezed away.

Am i happy or sad??? What matters is what we believe.  So I preferred to believe that I am simply emotionless. I wish to have the presence of my wife beside me. For all these days, I never missed her much because she gave all her soul to her daughter before she left me. I was leaving through her words with our beautiful daughter..

My wife always used to tell me “life is too short...” I couldn’t realize her completely on that. But she proved her statement when she has gone out of this world very early. I still remember when we decided to leave our life together. I still remember the days when I stopped calling myself an orphan. I can’t forget the day she gave me a girl child just before she closed her eyes forever.

Now, when the decades roll down, I found my wife through our daughter. She keeps saying the same words that she is mature enough and no more a child. That’s a strange sentence and a difficult fact for a father to hear and believe. She too proved that she is rightfully mature, may be that the same reason I could see her more colourfully... but she too left me so unceremoniously.

I don’t know whether I am running out from her or not. But I chose to believe that she was running away from me.

Deep inside a bunch of shrubs, I hide myself as an ambulance carrying my daughter’s lifeless body passed aside me .And without crossing my fingers, I prayed for not getting any evidences of me on the dark shades of challenges against her virginity..  

WHITE SHADES...

Far beyond the shades of long green trees, she was walking by counting the beeds of rosary. Cursed and curved on the test of time, striated face and white shades of hair procliams her old age. Her dried cheecks and its creases invited tears from sunken eyes. It drained out as if her heart pumps tears with every elevated beats of agony.Shivering has turned into a normal physiology now....
                                    
                                   Miles away, well trained surgeons occluded a body which has only traces of life and expectancy. Is it waiting for somebpody else to come?? But purposeless waiting recalled the past deeds that god even failed to restrict the uncontrolled multiplication of his pulmunory units of life. It all smoked away the abilty to breath, to live...
                                   This is the best place . The place where every human will be treated equally regardless of what they are. The same place where everybody pray to god down from the heart. But its neither temple, church, nor a mosque.. but a hospital.
                              
                                  The old lady got into, and saw only a circle of surgeons on a screen. Though operating ones life, they seemed strainless and simple.Experience might have made such situations habitual to them. Stood at still and getting cold, she glued her eyes to the screen. Her Sunken eyes turn swollen and tearless. From no where, a deep sense of cold made her to see some red lights. It was blinking as if god is grimacing at her. She starred on it without allowing her eye lashes to touch each other. Surgeons were hurry seeking help from some instruments. Suddenly, but silently, she could hear some whispers that speaks " sorry .. sorry that i could not allow my addictions to keep anything else to give you. am going, let me........"
 Swollen eyes again flushed out as it got a severe puncture. It flowed down as surgeoons disperesed and left the body lifeless.

Wiping her tears with a gasp, she stepped out. Squeezed some petals of red roses, she threw it away and said " once i loved you so much... "

A BED TIME STORY

Sleep. We all do it, with our eyes closed, lying on a bed. But I just thought of someone who does more with it. Those who work on it. Those who spent more with it than sleeping. Their eyes may be closed occasionally. They may sweat, weep, cry, in fact they finds their breads from it.. Those who are named by the society as prostitutes.

I decided to go after them. It was my job because I am a journalist. That’s what I chose to be.

 I hate this profession even though I was so thrilled and cherished for it until I realized that I am just a property of someone. Now I think the business of journalism is to hide and destroy the truth.  My company pays me for not expressing my thoughts, actually I may be kicked out off the job if I obey my mind and express it through word. What I need to do here is to sit and obey. Yes. I prefer to call myself as an intellectual prostitute.

                                        I traced and found some one for my story. She was beautiful, energetic, and appears to be young. I had not to go for a night club nor to the other sin cities to satisfy my need. I just got her from the roadside. We both smiled at each other. She was so passionately looking at me as if we both knew each other ages before. I think her boot-heels were higher than my standard. Yes. She gained my attention, but not respect.

We suddenly became friends. I don’t know if I call her as my friend is right or wrong??? She seems more familiar and communicative. But I did not ask about her history because I was hesitant to hear the same stories of disrupted wedlock, fake boyfriend, rape, or may be other predictable fables.

                        Walking on streets, she told me more about myself. How could she know all this? She was well known about my job, professional ethics, academics and some of my qualities that are even forgetful for me. I was totally surprised. Is it my fame? Or unpopularity? I was describing by a prostitute to whom I did not meet before. Honestly, I didn’t have such an  experience with any women. Then how??? I could not think much about it as she was talking my ears off. Are these prostitutes all good blabbers??? I could have suggested them another respectful job that demands fluency and vocabulary. Anyway, she was so happy meeting me. I would like to treat her as a princess like all men treat women like a princess only if they can be used as a prostitute.

                         Did she fall in love with me? I really doubted.  Or is this her real professionalism? I could not judge it as reality was the distance between me and her. Me too was sufficiently infatuated, attracted or better to say seduced. Suddenly she stopped as I noticed a deep breath with her eyes closed. Oh my god? Am I entering into more trouble?  Yes . It was. She asked me to say that three beautiful words. Although I failed to rule out what it is, she helped me to say what she wish to hear from me. I love you. I repeated what she told. "Did  all the prostitutes see the movie  Pretty women?"

When I said, she jumped and danced like a little girl. Its true that these type of girls are too aggressive. I hate it and uttered myself ‘ its better not to priorities anyone to whom you are just an option.’

Anyway, all my ethics were diluted by hormones came out of lust. I just obeyed it as she cried and bleed on bed.

It’s hard to explain how one falls in love with someone. Its hard to know the way how love comes. It may be from roadside, parks, beaches, classrooms, office and may be without even eyesight. Anyhow I am happy with her.its good to say , we are happy with each other.

Actually, You and me, our dirty and prejudice mind made my wife a prostitute. But she was not. She was my reader who was anxious and excited to meet me when we first met on streets. May be one of the best readers of mine. For ever.......

FOUR WIVES

Bond......James Bond..... I proudly gave out  a biog as i hold a  shot glass of Vodka Martini. I am not  an alcoholic, but i used to drink with my friends occasionally. Celebrations , no matter how important it is, we used to do cheers. As i just told, It was a party. Party for my friends heartbreak. While narrating his own story my friend told that the hardest part is not when she told that she don't love him, but it was when she called him Bro. 

WOW. Here comes April rain.  Its not about a shower on broiling summer days. But An April Rain is actually a refreshing version of Vodka Martini. The only addition is a splash of lime, which adds a delicate touch to the easy cocktail. It was my last one before i said good night to my best friends. I really don't know whether i can call them best friends or not. They may not, as they only shares liquor bills and cigarettes  with me. Only few of them shares what they really are, just like one of  my friend did by now. Hope you got me, But i am sure that i am not much bad as you thought.

I am a good biker, i hope so. The only quality i think i have is that i can ride bike even when i am in booze. My friends always appreciate my skill. Expressing the same once again, i reached my apartment. 'Noddy blinkums', i said to myself when i closed my eyes.

I was little bit skeptical on reality as i failed to realize whether i am dreaming or not or in future. Its confusing However i am happy now. Happy that i have four wives .

My first wife is beautiful. I gave most preference to her. I decorated her admirably so that others should feel jealous upon her. She was more close to me, apparently. 

My second wife is not bad. she is good redundantly. She gave everything i wish.  When i am standing with her i could attain a tremendous amount of energy. 

My third wife was not much beautiful, but i like her a lot.She used to be with me when ever i face hard times. She is my greatest listener and adviser.Remaining all always listen me to reply but she just listen me to understand. She is the one who have great trust and expectations on me. My last wife is not much good. She is just my wife. She will be with me always but i used to irritate her often. I can understand what she talks, I cant obey her while chasing my wishes. She is only something to me.

There It happened. The million dollar question. When i was Lying on my bed, with a debilitating disease, i asked my wives who will be with me when i die.

First wife, as i expected expressed her polite reply by admitting that she will definitely leave me alone. Second wife was too renegade than i expected. Its not her fault, its just a personal expression of choosing someone better than me if i passed away. My third princess showed something more promising. I don't know what she told is right or wrong, but i prefer to believe her words that she will follow me till my cremation. Then i asked the same question to my least lovely lady .  I never call her princess, honey, queen and so on. I never much considered her as my wife.So i don't know why she told that she will be with me every where i go, for every time. 

I was shocked totally, thus woke up from the sleep. I was puzzled on countless questions and crosswords. I did not ask who are those wives ,but i changed as What are those wives? 

I resolved, and realized that it was my own soul, my fourth wives. First one was my own body, who leaves me when i die. Second was my wealth who goes to someone else if i got over on grave ,and the third was my family and friends who might have been following me till my memorial park.

Addictions. It was the force inside me hurting my fourth wife, my soul. So i say  sorry to you dear,my real wife, princess, honey,queen and most precious thing. I quit hurting you.

DISPROPORTION

I am simple.So i could not understand what economic statistics they were discussing and arguing about on the t.v. But i am glade that they have reduced petrol outlay. While getting the most delicious morning coffee from my mother, i knew that one of my old friend came back abroad he works.We were the best childhood friends.But, the time might have made something on both of us.

De-clutching my bike allowed me to move freely. It took only five minutes to reach his home.Like a pre-planned meeting, he was waiting for me just outside on the garden.I prefer to take his hang around for me even though it was not.We smiled and hugged at each other.

Friendly repartee changed eventually sad and drove both us to our old pool steps.I asked my friend-" Why you came back before what you had told me earlier?How you lost that job? Couldn't you try for a better one staying there itself? I asked so many question even if I didn't know whether i am hurting him?"But i just made an attempt to evacuate my mind.His answer was actually another question."from yesterday onwards,how much money you are paying less for petrol? He asked and slowly tried to explain the reason why he became unemployed. I could not understand it completely but what i realized is the fact that the fall of demand for the petroleum products and their price drop in international market plunged economic stability of gulf countries and their capitalist power into chaos.Here we are happy when the government reduced the price for petrol but it makes lots of keralites jobless. Foreign currency from them contributes what we exchange with those whom come to us praising Kerala-gods own country.  Price reduction actually effects in retrograde  when we think little more deep into the truths. Honestly ,i don't know  much about it,but i believed what he told.

To have a little pep up , we decided to go some where out . Moving some more distance,we took a halt. Its only 6:30 and a snowy morning. Hot coffee from a roadside tea stall got extra sweetened with cigar puffs.Its been so long that i smoked a complete cigarettes. We had spent roughly half an hour and decided to get back. But i could not understand why the payment in that tea stall did not fall when petrol price reduced. Once they actually hiked price for every food item by saying its all directly effects petroleum. But  they are not ready to drew and think the same in reverse. When i questioned about it, the old man smile-fully argued and proudly told- "tea is not a petroleum product "

Suddenly my eyes got glued on a news paper column. It shows-"fee concession to   students on government roadway transport".

I once again praised those who governs me politically because i was not aware about the conspiracy that its indirectly meant to attract all the full-tickets to private bus corporate'.

Economics. It can be found every where.Because our society is addicted with corporate statism .We all experience it unknowingly. Only skepticism fall on our head. It made me out of control as we both slipped down on the road from my bike. Fortunately me and my friend got only some scratches but not in deep with fractures. We poured some cold water on it and smiled at each other.As Our bike has got some damage , we drove it to a nearby workshop and took an auto-taxi to reach back home.

It took only minimum charge to carry us back home.Stepping down from the seats,i gave his charge to the taxi driver and walked away. But when he called me back,i thought i might have left something forgotten.Or, will he demand for extra charge??I asked my friend. But surprisingly,the auto driver didn't ask for any extra payment, instead he gave some money back. I was totally astonished and asked why?? He proudly said -"we reduced our charges  proportionally  with the Petrol-price fall, without waiting anybody to question and command on us."

If the people are proportionate and ready to accept the changes and correct themselves,then what is the need of our government is a big question to be answered. But where ever this disproportion occurs, there comes the need  of someone to govern us. Someone who is really genuine. Someone who is incorruptible,peaceful,impartial and just good...

WILL YOU SPIT ON MY GRAVE?

I am laying. I can see some medical things around me, an air condition outlet, and a door just in-front with a mirror image of ICU. What happened?? I am just starving for oxygen. Each time i breath, my lungs tell its story of excruciating agony. May be pain is the only thing makes me to realize that i am still alive.

                          Whenever my brain gets a bit of oxygen, it reminds me off her. Her words saying -" please don't smoke". Now its helping me to get my dried eyes wet. Cigars were favoring me to feel thrilled, because it was my best friend. A friend who made me to kill the curse of loneliness. Did it weigh more than her love?? Yes..my experience proves that it did.

Keeping my head over the slightly elevated pillow, i threw my eyesight to the glass door in-front. I can see my parents, my friends, but not her. Not the one i wish to see now. I waved my hands to make them feel that i am okay.But they are not responding. Why?? Do they hate me this much?? I once again waved my hands and got similar reply. But i did not feel bad about them after realizing that my hands were not at all obeying my cerebral commands. 

                                I hate myself when i am breathing out as i am not sure whether i can catch-hold of air on my next attempt to inhale. But one thing i like is the helplessness of my tears as it fails to lubricate my exhaustion.

                                     Now i wish to hear my/our favorite song that she used to sing for me daily. Sometimes more than once a day.Can i hear it once again? Is there anyone to fix this ear phone for me?? Don't they know that there will always be an untold story behind everyone's favorite songs?We always hear music when we are happy,and we will unknowingly listen to its lyrics when we are sad.

               She will come,definitely. But she may be slower than my death knell. My doctors says that i can live ahead if i pass my surgery. Its not only meant to remove blackish parts of my lungs, but  actually purifies my soul. She may be praying. Will she?? For this in-obedient lover?? Yes. She will. I am sure that i can move myself through this 48 hours. With her thousand threads of prayers and love, i think i can defeat my mountains of addictions. 

And i will come to you dear...

Then ,give me a chance to love you again...Please...

I MISS YOU MOM

I slept late and woke up too late as usual. My phone signaled Red in its battery pot as it might have tried maximally to wake me up by alarming the time. On a quick succession, I jumped up from the bed, brushed, showered and tried getting  ready like an Autobot in transformer movie. Everything was fast except my shirt. “hey mom..?how many times I told you not to button up my shirt after ironing ???” I cursed her. unlocking each button seemed to be a precisely performed cardiac surgery. I thought I need to stitch a line of  welkers to avoid this buttoning. Welkers suits better. I think its more convenient for the way I am.

After buttoning my shirt, I called my mom again for my tiff-in. She ran up to me and gave my lunch. But i didn't mind. Actually I could not. Because I was much angry. I had told her so many times not to button up my shirt. But she wont hear. I am not forcing her to do what I said. I just need to avoid her favors as it make my life more complicated.When I ran out and jumped into my bicycle,she was saying something. She was saying something. I didn't bother listening to it as I knew that it would be the same dialogues- “Go slow..Take care…Eat well Study well…” etc…

Change is an outcome of time, realized  when I count the number of years passed as an eye-blink. Almost all interventions of a woman in my life is  substituted with my better half who is still sleeping in my bedroom when I am ironing my shirt now. Of coarse she loves me. But the problem is, may be love have lots of dimensions…

Anyhow, I realize that those buttoned shirts from my mother were actually a blanket of care, love and affection. she used to keep her offered embryonic layers of all finer things around me. How mad was I when I thought it all as restrictions. I definitely miss all those  things.. I really miss you mom…………

I' VE A GOOD FRIEND

It appears to be a snowy day when I met her at first. I sensed through so many angles of imagination and creativity. It all made me to grasp the beautiful sensations altogether. Delusions, illusions and hallucinations. Am I boozed??No. I was just got jailed in her borstal baselessly.

                                   She was just awesome, quite enough to make me ebullient. Spectacles over her eyes refracts blue coloured cornea making a partial reflection to spread the bluish traces over the glasses. Her waist length hair was just creased up, carving a bundle of it to left simply.

                                  Like a tragic love story of a sincere lover, we both falled in love with respect to the gravity in mutual understanding .  But it all turned upright when I knew that my best friend hates my girlfriend. Its true. Girls are always a magnet of danger.

My friend used to  advice  me  by saying so many rude comments about her. It was intolerably painful. Why he is doing this to me??Why he confines my dream of being with my girl. Did I do anything against him?? No...may he be jealous?? Not at ll..  Every such question pierced my heart trying to hurt her she who rests there safely.

                                  Meanwhile on a bad day, my friend outsmarted my tolerance and showed his vulgarism at its top. It was not just an irritation but was an insult to my relation. I did not think before I acted, but I could only judge myself when I saw his cheeks marked bruises and ears bleed. I shivered not expecting the reverse punch. I was afraid and sad that I lost one of my best relations.

Calling my girl turned more dramatic and reasonfull now. I did so as not to narrate my heroic punch. I just said what  happened.  she asked me “why” and then modified herself silent but I could hear some wheeze. What I told her might have changed my laconic girl melancholic..At last she asked “can we meet somewhere??” I said yes. That’s what I exactly want..

                                Unusual to our normal meet ups, she came late today. She was so desperate more than me. Actually I was expecting some appeasing words from here. But she made me to do the reverse. I like that. Girls always have a way of complicating things.

                                She started talking about my friend. Not just a few words. A lot.. lot more than I known about him for the last three years. Finally she winced to say that its him, challenged her purity of womanhood years before. She wiped her tears of sorrows out   with an admirable emotional intelligence as she turned around and left.

I picked my phone to dial my friend. I should say my apologies for that punch. Should I?? He was actually forced himself to act like a villain between our relations.  But it was for me. For checking me out from carrying over his mistake. I think he is still a good friend.

 I thought about that sincere girl. How good she is?? Quite Beautiful...Now I think virginity is not physical..