TO DROWN THE REMINISCENCES OF YOUR WOODEN VOICE AND SWOLLEN FACE

From the pen APN

I thought and thought but could not get a conclusion on how I will express my feelings to you. I thought I will write a poem. Then I thought writing a story would be better........I was in a fix.  I silenced my mind. And my mind constructed your smiling gracious figure that flashed upon the mental eyes. Soon my heart started responding to that magical figure. Waves of love and strong feelings rose in my heart. And I enjoyed the joy of being washed away by the unknown waves of love........

In deep longing I phoned you. I wished to forget my existence in the melody of your sweet voice but you answered me most crudely. You spoke with checks and balances. And you killed the poet in me and you killed the writer in me........

Suddenly, the waves of love subsided and the songs of my tender thoughts receded. But I knew that they would appear once again with more maturity and beauty when the moon would shine and a lovely heart would come behind closed doors to hold my hands with closed eyes and inviting lips.

This time the waves would be bigger and the thoughts deeper to drown the reminiscences of your wooden voice and swollen face.     

An Old Bike

From the pen APN

Berhampur otherwise known as the silk city is now assuming a new shape which is dominated by concrete flyovers and the roads that are divided by iron railings implanted into cemented base. The roads, flyovers and such ancillary structures are constructed to accommodate the speed of the burgeoning town. It is indicative of the restless run of the modern man in a commercialized town.......

While driving a car through the roads I remembered my olden days when I used to ride a 1978 model Yezdi Roadking on the undivided roads in the late nights. The absence of traffic and my solitary journey on the roads at those nights still lingers in my mind. I was a student at that time......

In these 14 years many things have changed. The roads are no more as they used to be. Now riding an old modeled bike in the silence of night won’t fetch the same charm because things have changed a lot. Push-start bikes with four-stroke energy efficient engines, disk-brakes and ergonomic designs have changed the taste of people. Riding an antique bike with its high thumping sound is a lost sight. It causes now many onlookers to raise their eyebrows in surprise and confusion because the Gen-Next hardly knows the brand. Although Royal Enfield bikes continue a tradition in the same line, they come with a lot of improvisations and advancement. So, strictly speaking, the brand Yezdi is a dying cadre. However, it has enough strength and resilience to defy time. To bring the memories back I remodeled my old bike. It was a herculean task to arrange the spare parts of an obsolete bike.
Now the bike looks new and I have grown old but still my heart dances when I see the old friend standing before me in unparalleled beauty.

I told my wife to sit at the back so that we would go on a round together. But she turned her face and walked into the house. I could hear that she was muttering angrily, “I do not know in whose memory you renovated the ramshackle bike paying so exorbitantly.” She walked away peevishly. I could not stop my smile at her fury because her fury and her turning back were directed at some imaginary girl friend which I might have in my past.

Only I and my bike knew whether my wife was correct in her assumptions or not........

A mother goat’s last prayer

From the pen APN

“Now the sky is unclear. The air is dusty. The water is tasteless and the soil is barren. And this is so because man who walks upon earth is now hollow like scare crow.” said the mother goat to the kids. The kids could not understand what the word ‘HOLLOW’ really meant. Whether man is SELFISH or UNPRINCIPLED-The kids could not make out anything.

On the contrary, the kids were very happy with man because every day he would feed them on soft leaves of cabbage and fresh long green grass. Every day he would put the little goats on the weighing machine and then he would leave them again on the ground. The little goats would jump and play with gay abandon. They would bleat and then they would go near little plants to nibble young soft shoots. Man was more than a friend to them.  

One day, after weighing the goats, the man spotted the healthiest one and took that one with him. In the afternoon when the man returned, he was no more accompanied by the goat. But a blood soaked goat skin was visible in one hand and big bundles of green shoots were seen in the other hand. The man dumped those leafy shoots on the ground and the little goats happily started devouring the leaves.  

The mother goat knew that she and her family are meant for the hungry jaws of men. They are reared and raised so that they can be killed. Her eyes became teary but she knew that she had no stand before the mighty man who knows how to kill like a machine and who knows how to rob the nature of her resources and beauty.

One of the kids asked the doe (mother goat), “Why do you say that man is hollow?” The mother goat looked into the innocent eyes of her kid and told, “The man of this age carries in him the unfathomable emptiness of greed and selfishness. He is empty and hollow inside.”

The kid was confused and a little bit panicked at the appalling state of man. The kid asked anxiously, “Why has man become so empty inside?”

The mother goat explained to the little one that man has forgotten to live in harmony with Nature. Because of his greed the man is empty and the joy of his life is missing. She said, “Man cuts millions of trees, runs millions of industries, digs mines, pollutes water, kills many animals and sucks all the resources of nature, yet he is not happy. It is because his emptiness and greed grow every day.”

Blinking his eyes the kid asked, “Mother, what is Greed?”

The mother goat replied, “Greed may feed the senses but eats away the soul. Life on earth is a celebration of joy through sharing and caring but greed dries up the springs of life. ”

The sun was about to set in the west horizon. The sky was splattered in red with the last rays of the sinking sun. The goat skin, red in blood, was hanging on the walls of the man’s house. The mother goat was deeply hurt and shut her eyes in anguish. She was tearfully praying to God for her turn when she will also be thrown into the unquenchable flare of man’s greed. But she had a last wish that she should be taken to the abattoir before any of her kids.

A CLOUD THAT LOVED CHILDREN

From the pen APN

“When children smile the world smiles” said the floating cloud to the wind. And the cloud requested the wind to carry him to a suitable place where he can make children laugh, giggle and dance in joy. The wind swayed his head approvingly as a result the leaves of the trees nearby rustled merrily.  

The cloud had many rain drops in him but he did not like to pour his water on the village playground because it would make the playground unsuitable for children’s play. The cloud wanted all boys and girls to be the angel of joy and happiness. The cloud had resolved to bring smiles to many children. So he chose a dried pond nearby and told the West Wind, his friend, to carry him just above the dried pond. The cloud had thought that when his belly would burst and there would be a thunder storm, he would pour all the rain water into the dried pond.

The time came and the cloud burst. There was a terrible roll of thunder. With the rumbling of thunders the cloud emptied all the water into the pond lovingly thinking of the children. The rain drops fell into a pond and now the pond was full of water. The cloud was no more seen in the sky. It had welcomed death to fall into the pond in the form of rain drops. The cloud had embraced death peacefully dreaming happy children playing and swimming in a pond brimming with water.   

Next day the sun shined in the sky gloriously. The rippling waters of the pond reflected the golden sun-shine to the trees standing at the pond side. A group of children came to the pond dancing and hoping. Some of them dived into the water and sprinkled water on each other playfully. Some children swam in the water giggling and some other children floated paper boats in the pond. They all made the noise of joy and celebration. Many birds came from different directions and started chirping. A small flower plant which was withering a few days back now looked fresh and a few butterflies were seen hovering around it. In short, the place had just become heaven like with a new touch of life-giving water.

In that joyous atmosphere a big painted lady butterfly was chasing a small orange sulfur butterfly. They flew round and round for a while. A moment later the small orange sulfur butterfly sat on a nearby flower and sipped nectar. The nectar was sweeter than honey. The little butterfly asked the flower in surprise, “How could the nectar flowing in you be so sweet? It is so magical.” The flower replied, “My nectar is made from the waters of a cloud that loved children so much.” The flower looked at the pond where the children were merry-making and the flower continued,” The cloud had the last wish to make all children happy and that WISH had made this place heaven.” The butterfly was enchanted. Now it flew to the pond and out of curiosity sucked a little water from the pond. The water tasted like heaven. And the next moment the butterfly could realize

how deeply the cloud loved the children. The butterfly flew happily after drinking the sweet water of the pond. And while flying through the gentle wind the butterfly sang a song that told, “Mother Nature gives everything/ To see all her children smiling.”  

DROPPING OFF THE SHIELD OF INNOCENCE

(A mini-story)
From the pen APN

 She was a charming girl. She had grace and very beautiful smiles. She looked innocent. But as you know no girl on earth is innocent or remains innocent for long, she also denied remaining innocent any longer. Soon she cast off her innocence and proved that she also belongs to the common category. And she is no different from others. 

Few days back, I used to compliment her because I wanted to make her goodness shine more brightly. Slowly she gained more confidence and competence. She looked more beautiful and felt more brilliant. And one day she thought that by not valuing my appreciation she could cause me pain. 

Most girls do posses such dangerous traits to devalue their admirers’ worth. And I call this attitude the DROPPING OFF THE SHIELD OF INNOCENCE. Be aware of them. Never take such incidents to your heart. 

This evening she saw me and turned her face to other side engaging her eyes irrelevantly. I walked past her but she did not acknowledge my presence. I smiled at the folly of that girl because she miscalculated my worth. I am not what she understood me and she is not what I used to think.

I WILL SURELY FIND YOU STANDING BY MY SIDE.......

From the pen APN (Written on 10.02.2015) 

Tears in your eyes made me put my hands on your shoulder softly and silently. I could now feel the softness of your shoulder and the pain in your heart. My heart’s closeness to you demanded of me to hold you gently and stay with you. You were already silent with your face downward and eyes closed. So I closed my eyes too and prayed with all my heart in your silent presence.  

I wanted to connect myself with the creator who sat in the high skies and assured all the mortals that WHEN EVERYTHING IS LOST THE FUTURE STILL REMAINS.

Time was moving ahead like the beads of a rosary. In the depths of silence my whole world had come to a standstill. At the same time a new hope emerged from inside that proclaimed the daredevil’s word, “Together we can challenge the world.”Now I was imagining more vividly that   in your softness I had found the greatest strength of my life. Both of us sat prayerfully and imagined how a new world shines above this world where we were daily assassinated mentally, emotionally and spiritually. We thought to set out for that ideal world together.

The sun was slowly rising above the horizon. A new day was taking shape. I slowly got up still holding your palm from that dreamy state of mind. The wind blew our hair. You too got up looking into my eyes and we started walking together. The cold night had already passed away and the warmth of the golden sun had made the world exquisitely beautiful and sunny. Two birds were singing harmoniously sitting on a branch. Now you looked at me and told, “If I close my eyes I am not sure whether I shall open them again or not but I am sure of one thing that whenever I open my eyes I will surely find you standing by my side.” I smiled and looked high into the distant sky and uttered the word, “TATHASTU.”

N.B. ‘TATHASTU’ is a Sanskrit word that means, “Let it happen.” And is used while granting a boon.     

In praise of a calm face

In the calmness of her face the nagging pains of life are forgotten. In her modest smile the spring season is set around. And when she walks away I miss her as someone so close to my heart.

I know it very well that only for a short while I will walk with her while gently sharing her smiles, silences and her thoughtfully concerned expressions. But I will always hold her in my good opinion and the memory of being with her will be my greatest joy.

She understands what pains me. She slowly expresses that she cares for me. In her silent expressions she looks like a pink rose that is refreshed in the early morning’s dew drops.

Today she had combed her hair in a different style. But that style did not go well with her sweet face. I wanted to see her as she was in her first day. I wanted to see her as she was- unchanged and uncorrupted. But change is inevitable. She will change slowly and slowly and the pristine beauty will be mixed with the mud and impurities of the adult world.

By the time that happens I wish that I am at a farther distance from her and I remain ignorant of her change. And I am still lovingly lost in her purest of pure smiles, innocent looks and incomprehensible love.

A FATHER’S RAINBOW

From the pen APN

31^st December 2014, the last day of the year 2014 greeted me with a wonderful rainbow spread sky. The beauty of the sky was ethereal and majestic.  I came inside my room running & tried to wake my son up but he was reluctant to come with me. He is a 4 year old child. To me the innocent face of the sleeping child looks no less beautiful than the colorful rainbow. He did not get up. Perhaps he was dreaming a more pleasant dream so I left him sleeping for some more time.

I went outside again to view the beautiful rainbow. This time, I went to a nearby field so that the trees and raised concrete structures around me would not interfere in viewing the rainbow.   After a few minutes’ existence the rainbow disappeared but before its disappearance I had clicked a few photos so that I could show them to my sleeping son later, explaining what a rainbow was. Now I was returning home but at that time my son had already wakened up and stood expectantly at the veranda to view the rainbow.  

He asked me emphatically, “Where is the rainbow?”

I could not face such a demanding question. However, I had no other way out. Finally, I told that he was late and the rainbow had faded away.

Abandoning the comfort of blanket and sleep he had taken the pain to come out to see what a rainbow was. But his hopes were now dashed to the ground. The broken hopes of the child came down rolling in glistening tears. His voice was now chocking because he had missed an opportunity to see a rainbow. He had never seen a rainbow. Missing THE UNKNOWN and missing a potential new experience were too poignant for the child.  Tear drops and his pained facial expressions torn my heart. 

It was still raining softly but the sky had no rainbow. I felt awfully sorry. I looked at the sky in all directions to find a rainbow but there were no more rainbows. I took out my mobile as a last resort and showed the recently clicked photo of the rainbow on the miniature screen. The sobbing of the child stopped but the photo was no substitute for the magic of a real rainbow.

That night my family slept calmly and so did my child. I was lying on my couch ruminating over the day’s incident. Some faint memories took clearer form. I remembered how my father had once created a rainbow for me because I had insistently cried for a rainbow when I was a child.  He had arranged a big mirror and had placed the mirror at the bottom of a tub full of water to reflect the sunlight through the water. The reflected light while passing through the water produced the rainbow for which I was crying. He had created an artificial rainbow on the cleanly white-washed walls of our house. He even got the rainbow formed on my white shirt. I also remembered how the coloured bands of rainbow would shake when there was disturbance of the tub’s water.  

My father was great because he made me play with a live, pulsating rainbow that needed sunlight, mirror and water which were the real ingredients for forming a rainbow.  But I, as a father, ended my duty just by showing the image of a rainbow on the mufti-touch-sensitive-screen that understands commands like zooming-in and zooming-out.

It was late night. I switched off my mobile and threw it to a corner of my bed. My son was sleeping by my side. I looked at him and promised the sleeping child silently that tomorrow his papa would make a rainbow dance around him.