Friend from Uzbekistan

 Less than 10 minutes in my hands, i was rushing to my clinic on a bright summer day in St.Petersburg.  Waiting for the bus , i saw a lot of people ,their fashion , romance , life burdens and a tiny wave of seemingly polished energy.  There were a bunch of people among others who were talking so loudly ,mocking at each other ,hitting themselves to find their morning charm. I think most of other people around, found them discomfortable. Surprisingly one guy from the gang, told me “Namaste”-a hindi word for formal greetings. As i greeted him back ,he asked me “ Are you from india?” . I said Yes and asked him where he hail from ? He said “Uzbekistan ”.  After pausing for a selfie with his gang, i tried to excuse myself inorder to lighten the rise of xenophobia among others. 

I usually tries to talk with anybody who shows some interest to talk to me.  I consider one look ,one smile , one greeting and all as an open invitation to start a  conversation.  Sometimes , it works out very nicely and helps me earn new friends. But sometimes it fails and i set back . Anyway , it usually has a decent success rate. 

On the way, i met another guy who smiled at me while repairing some pipeline . His smile itself reflects the whole Tulip festivals of the city . Expressing his hectic work by his gait unconsciously, he hurried towards me and just spoke some random words like “India ” “Amitabh bachan” “Mithun chakrabarthy” and sang a popular Hindi song “Jimmy jimmy ”. By the way ,these are not just random words. These words contain history, social life and generations of love and affection towards bollywood and so to indians. To be frank , As i am from south india , i was not much relatable to these 90s bollywood culture. With the background of these words, He hugged me tightly and expressed his love as if he met an old childhood friend after decades. He didn't just hug me but also painted all the dirt from his worksite onto my dress as i tried to ease away from his wrap. 

As its my last day of work in St.Petersburg, i was very conscious to reach the clinic punctually. It was a happy but busy day as clients were wishing me “Happy journey ”. My colleagues arranged a nice farewell to me and offered some sweets. I also expressed my thanks to everyone and said Good bye to St.Petersburg.  

Arriving on Berlin , my new workplace, i was walking to my allotted apartment. The city seems totally strange as i dont know anyone and anything here . I didnt get any casual smiles, looks , and welcoming hand of help . Then i noticed two people who were repairing a pipeline and talking so loudly. I looked at them as they stood up and smiled . I ran to them and asked “where are you from ?” . They said “Uzbekistan ”.  I smiled like a child, hugged both of them and said “ I ......India” ....“Amitabh bachan”... “Mithun chakrabarthy”... “ Jimmy jimmy ” . We all laughed out so loudly as the whole streets looked at us.  I didn't bother whether i got dirty or not. 

The Last One

I was the last one...

So many times... I was the last one..

I was born on 31st December midnight as i may be one among the last baby of that year. But i never felt bad on that, as i am still considered to be a Newyear Gift to my family.

I was the last student who used to come to my class. So, my teacher always punish me by saying "Put all the lights and fans off after the final bell." Firstly i found that as a burden, but gradually by that way, i turned to someone more than a class leader.

I was very vigilant that i could omit so many of errors in my assignments. Do you know how? Its the same Simple reason... I was the last one who submit the works. 

I am the last one who leave the dining table. My friends used to call me a foody, and they used to make fun out of my verocious eating habit. But i was ok that i never allowed my table to waste any food.

I think we are made for each other. I hope that i am the last Boyfriend of my Last girlfriend. And so .. The only point i wish to say.... is the word "Last".

Yes .. last is a hope.. last is a wisdom..

Last is not out, its in.. Last is beautiful.

Its not always being the first is great. 

Its the last too ....

When the darkness is darkest.

when the storm is strong..

when the tides are tall..

When the Hopes are nil.

Its not about the first one who come and left that matters..

Its all about the last one who still standing...

Happy Lie.

Since i joined in this hospital as a Medical officer, i really missed my evening tea. Those sips were a part of my life, my energizer and my best listener. Each time i touch my lips on that tumbler, i used to murmur my thoughts and imprint my feeling on it. Sometimes my words may have tobaco stains.. sometimes not....

It was a usual day but an unusual moment when i was called by my senior doctor for an evening tea. I went along with him passively without any hesitations. He lighted a ciggarates and pointed me one but i was polite enough to say No that i still regret. 

He was a great man. He talked about his college life, his adventures, his life changing moments with rarest of the rare diseases, and few of his advices that i dont even remember. Inbetween i was asked about few opinions on hospital stuffs.  But i answered as if everything goes well and good. Meanwhile, a young man interrupted into our talk by asking .."Sir... You remember me? You treated my daughter few years back.." 

My sir went puzzled and tried few gestures of memory recollections and asked her name..

The man said " Akhila ..sir..  Five years back she had a Chest pain.. i brought her to you."  My sir smiled away and asked about his children and family.. There we had a brief conversation with that man as we both finished the tea.....

When we were walking back, sir told me, that man's story. I felt light to know His daughter is no more and he is just insane after her demise... 

I felt so bad and, watching me, my sir said..." We may face such situations.. We are always destined to tell bad stories to the people right..?, so,,,, sometimes its good to finish the story with a "Happy lie" instead of ending it with a sad truth... Sometimes we have only one option to choose instead of multiple choices that dont have answers...."

THE THIRD PLACE.

I believe that there will be a place for everyone of us, where we all will be on high. I don't mean somewhere we can get addictives.. Its more than that. It can be your friends house, public library, beach, theatre, pubs or even your own bedroom....The place where we all will never be taken for granted. Where we seek what's hidden inside us. Where we can truly find what's happiness..

Comparatively, its more easy for a boy to find his place as they enjoy more freedom. Some girls will find theirs, walking the paths less travelled by others. Some people can change any place to something they wish. They can find beauty in anywhere. And others will adjust and Pretend to be living within theirs. Whatever the scenario is ... We need that.. We have to find it. We just need a place.. a third place...

Am not talking about a place were you can find success and thus happiness as you might have bored off believing that success is the key to happiness. But that's wrong.. totally wrong.. Infact, happiness is the key to success.. But it doesn't matter whether you succeed or not.. You just find this place. This third place..

And when you start thinking about this,, deep to yourself, you may figure it out, the ultimate truth.. The truth that the hardest person to spend time with is yourself..

HIDE AND SEEK

''''On the island of Chios, Orion wooed Merope, daughter of the great  King named Oenopion, apparently without much success, for one night while fortified with wine he tried to ravish her. In punishment, Oenopion put out Orion’s eyes and banished him from the island. Orion headed north to the island of Lemnos where Hephaestus had his forge. Hephaestus took pity on the blind Orion and offered one of his assistants, Cedalion, to act SERVE as his eyes. Hoisting the youth on his shoulders, Orion headed east towards the sunrise, which an oracle had told him would restore his sight. As the Sun’s healing rays fell on his sightless eyes at dawn, Orion’s vision was miraculously relieved, But to stop orion from teasing the same girl, the king Oenopion put him on to the sky.'''-- """That's it dear , you are seeing now."""" Looking at that mysterious constellation in the sky, he completed his story with a gasp

Curiously  listening to the story, the baby girl leaned towards his bare chest and doubted -" so will this ORION tease me when i became an astronaut ???"""" . He said No and added-"  if he come through your way, you just shoot him down, ok.. "okaay- the baby girl became happy.. 

"Dad... was my mom a tennis player?? " the baby asked. He slid his head towards the photo shelf and reminisced the days when he played tennis with his wife. " yes, your mother was a wonderful tennis player, you can also have  a try". He advised her setting an example. 

"Dad,,, was my mother a horse rider???, the girl again proudly asked to know that her mother was good in all such. Childish curiosity elevated and set her mind cheerfully to remember her mother. She was not sad, may be she doesn't know how and why people got sad. Sadness at first takes the senses to train our emotions for acting horribly with few drips of water from eyes and some meaningless noises....

She answered Yes to herself without waiting for her fathers reply. "Dad, i know she was good in tennis, horse riding,  and was a good dancer too.. So tell me, what was her  favorite game???

The curtains of their bedroom window was bathing in the soft blending moonlight as he threw his eyes in an inclined trajectory. Amusing...He saw a star twinkling at him. When he was about to point that star to his daughter as he pondered its as his wife- her baby's unseen mother. But the star dimmed.. 

The baby once again asked " hey dad, tell me, what was my mothers favorite game???? 

Looking at the sky once again, he said, ""HIDE AND SEEK... That was your mothers favorite game...."""  

ANGEL

Just like a mechanical doll, i backpacked my handbag and paced to my bus-stop after hearing the bang of my college bell. Stepping few more feet ahead, i dipped my chin down as  i tried to stare away from that regular guy who simply looks at me every day. He never teased me for all this while, but his gaze itself is a horrible disturbance for me. Drifting away from his piercing look, i moved ahead like a Hollywood-star walks on Red carpet. It took nearly ten minutes for me to reach my bus-stop and i jumped into the bus. For gods sake, i got a window-seat as i  found a relief from the pain i used to feel amidst my shoulder blades.However, It was a happy evening as the sinking sun made the never-ending horizon more and more reddish.

When my bus took a sudden break to load the passengers, my eyes got stuck to a cute girl who just stepped-in with her mom. As my lap found vacant for that girl, her mother told me to take care of her child. I felt very very happy as usual as i am too fond of playing with children. She appears less than four years of age and i prefer to call her as an ANGEL for the rest of this story. She attired with a silvery white gown and wear a white, translucent scarf around her head. Black-lined eyelashes of her, gave me a marvelous contrast with her facial complexions. Everything about her made me happy except two things,,, first thing that she never smiled.....and the second thing that she never even yelled a word to me...

I tried to impress her with so many of my childish gestures that i usually use when i rejoice with children. But none of them worked on her. As the each and every attempt of mine was failing, passengers who were sitting aside of me, grinned and showed their devils glee. It was a great sarcasm for them though it was all my sinking ships in the sea of my ANGELS mind.

Slipping away from all those sarcastic laughs, i asked my angels name.. But she made me disappointing enough to put a spark to the next cracker of laughter in the bus.I asked her name one more time in a politely childish way. I asked again,,, three times ... four times..... It was good enough for thousand times... But she plunged me again into chaos that i reached down-to-earth to decide that i wont entertain any children ever in my life.I tried a chocolate. she took it and again sat simply,giving me a slight sense of gratitude and happiness.

As i am about to reach my home, i set myself ready to step down from the bus after giving my ANGEL back to her mother. When i stood for a while to drop myself down from the bus, i asked her name once again to her mother. She conveyed something to my ANGEL as my angel happily showed her fluttering hands on me in response... ohhhhh my god.....ANGEL....

I slumped down from the bus and  just stood for a while as the bus passed... My angel is still smile-fully  fluttering at me... But she don't talk to me, and she don't hear me.... Her mother waved her hands and conveyed few gestures to pole her vote of thanks...And she added one more gesture which made my cheeks wet..   Actually, my ANGEL could never talk to anybody... and she could never hear anybody....


  

THE GIRL WHO CRIED..

 I was knowing that was divine. An auspicious mix between the exudates of her mom and dad. The venue is a cavity about ten centimeter. Now i could see some threads , where untwining, segregating  independently and rejoined at last, i think they used to call them as chromosomes. Anyway , some beautiful threads among them which are ready to define her gender are visible like similar ones. How sweat you honey,,, ...... You will be the most beautiful girl on earth. i prayed out unknowingly with a gasp.                        

One of my challenging task on her is completed by myself with at most care. May be i being called as her father and mother but actually and absolutely not. May be they will guide her to me by pointing upon a church, temple or a mosque till she knows i am , the origin and annihilation built with all the wealth of infinite.                        

I went close to her and whispered as previous." Hey sweety, am sending you to the earth. - the actual heaven where i made people who can make you smile. Some of them will be more close to you as your family. Someone will complement you on time  and you will get paired up. Then i will again send others to love you and to look after you in your old age after your absolute union with that someone". After listening to my whisper, she took her ears off from me and went for getting nourishment from her mother.                        

WHAT.....???? Whats happening??? I listened carefully by getting into her soul. Now i can hear some  doctors voice from outside.  OHHHHH... Jerk off... Something is coming to her, clipped on her and i suddenly withdrew myself from her body after  for seeing longer.                        

 Surgical equipments directed by well- educated doctors are playing their role systematically and mechanically. How damn??? They are striking her, squeezing her and about to kill her. She cried , cried, and cried,and asked " Hi, mom; why are you simply obeying to kill me?  s there anything wrong with me?? I ma also beautiful like you,  please mom.... Give me a chance to love you. Don't you wanna know how much i have waited to sleep on your  side??? How dare you can eject out your breast milk simply without my affectionate lips??? please mom,, please,, allow me to live....                        

 "Hi dad... Three months i have waited to breath the same air as yours.. The first lesson of music i want to learn is your rhythmical heart beat by lying beside , keeping ears close to your warmed bare chest.. Don't you have the tender affection to kiss me??? Don't you wanna feel my love??? Please dad; don't kill me....... "                        

 "Hey... you;my family. i know ,you are so tired by searching one good name for me.. Don't you wanna play with me.. ??? I can't imagine the forthcoming festival-spots without you. Haven't you brought a toy-shop for me??  please... please.... Help me out safely..... "                        

: "Hi, the holy mother, earth.. How stupid you are??? Will you hate to have my footprints on you???                        

 Hmmmmmm..... aaahhhhhh...... There is dark now... having no reason.....                        

 I can see the spark ; which changed as  a flame. and washes way the darkness. she appeared with her childish smile by hiding her tears and sorrows. the only thing i can tell her that is SORRY. Then what else i can??? How should i face her??? What should i tell her??                        

NOTHING....                        

I just hold her hands with my flooded eyes, and embraced  her with all the affectionate feelings in this world and said " Sorry dear; you are mine. and i do promise that i will not give you to anyone; Some things are better left forgotten right????

THERE WAS NO ONE TO TELL HIM THAT HE CANT..

 People say writing is a lonely business.. but I think they all lie... writing is actually more than a canvas of a huge crowd. So when I touched my keypad, I asked myself.."why the hell I write..... """
But I got to know the fact that we all write because we feel something..

It doesn't matter how literate you are , how educated you are...if we can obey our feelings , we all can become writers.. I think so...and I feel it..

When I threw my sight through my window, I could see two boys , who were playing upon the ice floor.. its winter here, the time to play through-ball with ice cakes..
But thy were actually doing something else... I watched them closely, and enjoyed off being nostalgic at myself..

Abruptly, one boy disappeared...😳😳

What happened??🤔 I searched and zoomed my eyes into no wheree  except the periphery... but I couldn't see the boy, but only a crying friend of him captured my stare.. He cries for help, but didn't get anyone.. I should have gone thr to search his friend, but my paralytic limb offered a kind of resistance to my willls and wishes as I tried to twist mywheel chairr...😝😝

 Then, I saw an admirable incident.. I was heavily surprised to see the masculinity of that typing boy to break a thick branch of a pine tree and patted in the ice floor.. as the ice floor broke and parted away, I happily see the other boys hand from inside... it was quit dramatic and thrilling . But I was actually thinking " how can a boy of such a younger age could break that branch.. even the adults used to axe it for sizing...so how can he?? Is he magical??? A super human ???? 😇😇😇

I felt totally puzzled..but later I came to know the fact...

The boy was really younger than I thought.  He was not much masculine.. he dont have any magical powers.... but the matter of fact is THERE WAS NO ONE THERE TO TELL HIM THAT HE CANT BREAK THE BRANCH....😊😊😊

ITS JUST......

Hey friends..... for a long time , i didn't post anything in particular. I was totally out of my normal pitch and i lost my rhythm somewhere... But a couple of days before , when i was watching sherlock series on bbc, i got to know that "work is the best antidote for pain" So i decided to work as fast, as good as, and as smart as i can to keep myself away from sorrows.. I wish to write more ...i wish play.... i wish to read, and write.....So, this blog is just a start...

Actually , i don't have anything in my mind to write here. I simply sit in front of my pc and just typing.... You may (definitely) think what the hell i am doing... But if you had faced such a situation like me,,, you might have understood every stimulus trespassing my nerves..

Mmmmm...... I don't have anything to tell you... except a sorry for not publishing anything for the last few months... I know i am not at all a writer.. and i know that you are not at all curiously waiting for my next blogs. But i do feel myself as a writer, deep inside me, and that plunges my thoughts to write a sorry, respecting a hypothetically created genius inside me that yet to come up.......

CRIED OFF BEEN NOSTALGIC..

Though he describes , deject and debates on ayurvedic daily regimens , he personally shows his defiance to it. His punctuality so invites skepticism. May be he is ahead of normal daylight system. But he was prompt in doing his responsibilities.

So,, how do I start.???? To tell a story seems like searching for a grain from rocks. I think I should obey the time line down my memory lane. But I am not rubbing what I wrote about him above.

The story starts at few distances away from the main plot. At her home in 111 street, scarlet finished her dinner. She stares at some pillow-thick medical texts as she felt profuse sweating. Her body was convulsive and her eyes got swollen.. Felled on the ground she yelled and took a parchment from her valet and dialed for the name Dr.sloka. Her wrecking brain-functions ultimately results into a complete blackout as the phone receiver simply hung down.

The very next day, Dr.sloka under his semi-sleep got his morning coffee from his asistent Dr.Manthra. They both works on the same hospital own by himself where sloka is a rare guest.  "Good morning sir.. woke up. You are far ahead than normal wake up time." She smiled by insisting the word brahmamuhoortha.. Sqeeazing the eye lids like an act of visual adjustment , Dr.Sloka said “ what if  I have travelled on air from the other side of earth where sun set when I have started and reached here two hours before? What matters is life style, if it change thus everything . No one might have travelled like this when and before your text was commisioned neverthles,, thanks for your coffee dear..” Getting up from the bed he smacked on coffee and wentout . As he examined his scaffoldings , to see his own news from the newspaper, he saw his first patient named scarlet. Though she was lean and hungry looks, was trying to be energetic.

Sloka invited her to his consulting room and heard about her illness attentively. Sir," I am healthy but feeling  a sort of discomfort. With her anxious eyes she added, “ I am having some kind of hearing problems, I don’t have proper hunger as I feel bad on looking at food. It makes a tendency to vomit. I often feel chest pain on walking and headache usually."Lightening a cute smile, she narrated a story of her head ache like a chld and eventually cried off been nostalgic. She also complained about her recurrent fever as she shrugged her shoulder repeatedly . Her communication was resourceful; But not pointing to a particular diagnosis. Dr.Sloka asked manthra for an opinion as she was taking all the data systematically like a journalist who records a politicians speech. Manthra grouped  the signs and symptoms according to the bodily systems and extenuated a puzzled gesture. “ sir, its not Digetsive , its not strictly cardiac nor respiratory ……..” Dr.Sloka forced to stop her and asked Scarlet for medical reports if any..She gave an envelope of reports seemingly from her childhood till her present age of 35. After going through each report, sloka told her to wait for him at 8 o clock night in her own residence. ‘ Sir don’t you have  anything to give me??” scarlet asked for prescription.  “ no, I will give you when I come to your home today”.  Sloka excused and gave her a box of chocloates.She felt so happy receiving chocolates from a doctor al though she was diabetic. “will you eat all these?” Sloka sked.”  “No sir, I can give it to my friend crystal. She is my paying guest, is a doctor. “ I know, she can eat enogh chocolates as she is not diabetic at her age 35.” Sloka replied.

Amased by his reply scarlet asked how sloka knew about Crestal and even her age. “ nothing madam its not my intelligence. You had mistakenly kept her medical reports too within this envelope from which I noticed her name and age”

The consultaion lasts with chocolates as they all contributed their part to an official smile to disperse.When scarlet stepped out, curious manthra asked for the diagnosis. Throwing his mind deep into the thoughts, he told manthra to wait till they finish their dinner from scarlets home. He instructed manthra to trace a phone number that he already traced. It shocked her when she came to know that it's of scarlet.

111 street was very wake full at 8 o clock night. Dr.sloka and manthra  tapped on scarlets door as it opened punctually. Scarlet invited both of them directly to the dining table on which everything was  well arranged extravagantly like a lavish banquet. "Supper turns dinner if it's light. But you totally disobeyed the definitions madam." Sloka went humorous as manthra stood expressionless.

Finishing the dinner that stimulated each and every taste buds, Dr.Sloka seeks permission from scarlet to see her personal room. Scarlet showed her room but it appears to be a library of medical books that seems absurd. Breaking her pursed lips manthra asked " Where is CRESTAL"
"Who... ohhh... crystal.. my friend.. She may reach Here at night probably when I slept. She works in a near aside hospital." Scarlet replied reliably.
"Are all these books own by crestal??" Sloka asked to scarlet. "Yes sir. She don't have a bookshelf in her room . That's why.."
Having a wave of intelligence manthra questioned Dr.Sloka whether he didn't notice the information board at the gate where it's written Dr. Crestal. Mbbs.
"Yes...I do.. But..." Sloka confused.."Sir you might have unnoticed her consultation room in this home. That's why" manthra tried to console sloka if he appreciated her interruption as a disrespect. "Yes I do... But.."Sloka again gave a puzzled look. They both share something strange and together called out loud "scarlet...????"

At room aside, probably hired by crestal, scarlet was lying unconsciously. Manthra was so anxious and tensed but sloka remains absolutely normal. He checked her vital signs and wrote "meet me on morning'..Dr.sloka". Keeping the chart glued on the t.v screen, they both left the house but hide on a window side to watch scarlet.
After few minutes , scarlet woke up from fainting and wiped her sweats as she wore a lengthy apron of crestal to have a sense of comfort. Dr.manthra stepped back to the main door to assure primary medical attention to the fainted scarlet, but sloka refused as they both started back to their own apartment. On the way back , curious manthra though she was agitated on slokas decision to leave scarlet in a medical emergency, she asked "what happened ..what's this??? How can you ignore such a patient?? Are you mad???"
Hearing all such questions Sloka replied"yes.. But I am not"

The vistas of logical reasoning to diagnosis back ten years .. Sloka started "scarlet had told us a brief story of her head ache ,a kind of psychic intervention as her parents could not fund her to study medical science. It all restricted her passion and she was well challenged emotionally. She better tried to remember all this as an episode of head ache. You remember when she cried on it been nostalgic when she consulted us today.
Manthra, you have very well cross-checked all her signs and symptoms. But couldn't  find any system wise involvement as all of these were coupled , intermixed and complicated. She feels anorexia, nausea, but not digestive the cause is. She feels chest pain and exhaustion on walking but they have no cardiac nor respiratory etiology. From the time I saw her, she was week but trying to express herself as energetic. Though it's a Normal tendency of some patients to behave like that, she said she is healthy but having some diseases. She first smiled for explaining headache and then cried for the same. She shrugs her shoulder repeatedly and waving her sights with her anxious eyes. All these signs can clearly be seen on the explanation given for premonitory signs for vatika unmaada..

Dr.manthra with unsatisfactory mind asked again" still you said it's premonitary. Then what's the diagnosis???"
Sloka smiled and said" . When you are lost, you should find a way out or else you should make one. Our science allows to do so. As such a tenacities can present anything in a complicated way, we have to have a mainstay of poorvaroopas than the roopas. From the promontory signs itself, we have to infer (anumaana) the disease such that roopas can be unpredictable sometimes. See  though the night rain have etiology of cloud, it can be predicted from highly humid day time. Even if you cannot see clouds at night, starless sky signals the same let aside the fact that Stars don't have any etiological significance directly to effect rain. We are normally diagnosing the disease from its roopas  But in such a case like this, we have to rule out roopas too from poorvaroopas to diagnose rogas.
"So we have the diagnosis right?? Manthra smiled and asked " then why you told me that we  don't??"
Dr.sloka deaccelerated the car to stop and asked "where is crestal?? Can't she prescribe anything to her house owner??"He opened a bottle of water and poured it to his mouth and offered to manthra.
She thought of crestal but she couldn't ask anything to him except drinking some water.

Sloka took the lead again and said " you criticized my brain when we stepped out from the scarlets  residence. It's not me, not crestal ,not you is mad. It's scarlet. But I couldn't say much about crestal because she is just an impostor. Yes ... It's a case of dual personality. Her brain created her own variant named crestal. But it always be left something related in such cases. Here It's the name itself. CRESTAL is actually an anagram of alphabets from the word SCARLET..

"Are you telling me an imaginary story?? How could you frame all these???"Dr. Manthra doubtfuly interrogated. He reasonably replied" I have already told you the interpretation of poorvaroopas.that's just a philosophical exercise but when I analysed her medical reports I have seen some reports of Crestal. As my provisional diagnosis compelled me to search for the cause of her insanity, I considered her past and present. From the past, I knew that she was very passionate on medical profession. The passion captured her brain but couldn't find its realization. It exists within even after an episode of psychic perversions which she collectively grouped as head ache.
To know the present issues if any, I have traced the character of crestal and found that such person is not working in hospitals near aside, and no one has ever seen such a person. From both past and present I ruled out the fact that crestal is just an impostor developed by her own brain to satisfy its passion. She bought books, apron and even designed a consultation room. Her passionate implies
Impulses.
Manthras mind twinned with so much more nervous interconnections.
She asked excitedly."Yes I do believe. Then tell me how could you know that it's at 9 o clock crestal wakes up from within."
Dr.sloka mentioned manthras role to trace the anonymous call at 9 o clock. When she used to faint and wake as Crestsl. But missed call was not enough to fix depose that possibility. So I planned to watch the transition directly by telling her to arrange the dinner.
"Sir then satisfy Me by answering about glucose level. Scarlet is diabetic but crestal is not. I could understand the personality transition but it's happening within the same physique right?? So how can have the possibility of mismatched glucose level." Sharpening her ears, manthra asked..
Dr.sloka accepted the question interestingly and said "it doesn't matter what all diseases we have and what all signs it presents. What really matters is brain. I hope you know that insulin and glucagon secretions are in-turn monitored by brain. These hormones can influence the glucose level within minutes from its normalcy. Her brain does so because she was not diabetic when her passion captured her brain with a psychic shock. It  tries to make herself feel that it's she  excelled in medical profession. But it changed the name to crestal to have this medical professional hidden  away from the society. By waking up at night with an anagramic name crestal ,keeping the consultation timing on the notice board only after 9 o clock, these are just a away of escapism.Her brain does all these to keep the personality of crestal alive without being caught by the public."

Manthra felt suffocated with thoughts. Driving few more miles they reached their apartment. Before going to bed she asked "sir, how could you know the days of transition. Is it happening daily?? Feeling his heavy stomach Dr.sloka replied " I don't know. We shall have to take dinner few more times until we observe the transition to fix our diagnosis. They smiled as sloka walked away to his bed room. Running after him manthra curiously asked for his prescription. By keeping the door opened narrowly enough to see his face he said " Read on.....watch me next day.."

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..