A letter to nobody


Dear Nobody,
My mind is filled with so many questions that I thought I better spit them out. You might not be able to come up with answers to them, or maybe to some you could. In either case there is no harm in trying. So, here I begin…
Why do Delhi girls wear their dupattas like terrorists, covering their head and face? Is it because they are trying to scare people off or because they are trying to get mixed in the crowd like dust? Is it because it lends them some invisible anonymity or because they don’t like how they look?
Why is it that sex is associated with nights? Why only when you spend the night out it also means you must have done that? Is it not possible to make out during the day time? Then why is there such a big hullabaloo about being out at night?
Why is it that people get shocked when a girl is out at night? Why is it that the ‘night’ is owned by men? Why is it that good girls (I find these words offensive, but I am making an exception right now) can’t walk alone on the road at night? Why restrict our lives to the days and retire at night?
Why do people keep pets? Why don’t they keep other people? Hungry people, poor people, old people, orphans….there are so many breeds to choose from.
Why is it that the very birds which we write poetry about irritate us no end when they start living in our air conditioner?
Why aren’t there windows anymore? I shall not even mention the ventilators.
Life is full of sound and fury and has no meaning. Every one has heard that. Then how come everyone is chasing something or other always? Well this is not making sense anymore. I shall stop here and now. Thanks for listening my dear Nobody.

Stories in 55 Words



55 # 4
“Lovely my dear… pretty earrings” complimented someone. A smile touched Amina’s lips but didn’t reach her eyes. She ignored the guilty drone inside her head. All she wanted was to look beautiful. That day too she wanted the earrings. No reason, no excuse. She didn’t have the money to buy, so she just took it.

55 # 5
Today I retire. I have been drinking since morning. I am not unhappy. Good retirement benefits always help. They have found a successor for me. I am not unhappy. People don’t respect my job. But my father did it and my grandfather too.  I am not unhappy. I will be hanging the last man today.

Stories in 55 Words

55 # 3.
“Isabel you cannot leave” says Aaron weeping. “What will I do without you dear? It’s all because of the work. When things are not under control I just lose my temper.” Isabel remembers the numerous times he had got drunk and spoken like this. Yet like every time she replies “I know… I know boss”.

Stories in 55 Words

55 # 1.

I didn’t know I would find her address like this. Four years after I came back. Not in any yellow pages. Not even from uncle. I found it on the temple steps. On one of the worn-out marbles steps. “Pridarshini Rai, 6.10.1985 - 16.03.2009, 41 Mandi Road, Madhopur, Madhya Pradesh.” I was a year late.

55 # 2.
When she slept like a child with her mouth slightly open, it evoked certain tenderness in you. A sudden urge to protect her. She resembled someone, maybe my cousin, maybe someone else. She is stirring awake now. I better hurry up with another doze of camphor and make that ransom call to her bastard father.

Infinity

Like the stars
Who shine at a distant a horizon
Like you yearn for them knowing well
You can never reach them
I love you
Accepting with heavy heart
That this distance is important
That pining for you is just
A trivial part of loving you
It can never encompass
The emotions that have been travelled
And that this endless tale will be experienced
With the knowledge that
Far away in the distant
You are shinning with glory
With simply your memory
My life is infinity.

Hangover

Your thoughts, your words
Your lopsided smile, your tears
Your silence, your banter
Your fact, your fiction
Your ego, your stubbornness
Your touch, your dreams
Your eyes and the mole within
Your presence, your absence
I am living with all of them.

Glimpses of Lansdowne


The view from the cab


Ting Tong


Leisure


Leafy way


The nest


A visitor


Living on the edge


The winding way


A stolen shot


Once upon a bridge

Hope


Stooped by the little burdens
I walk ahead
Finding my way down new paths
If I stumble, I shall get up
If I am lost, I shall find a way
But the truth is...
I will keep looking back for your shadow
And wonder
If your eyes are still on me?
I wish not to meet you again
But only that
Hope will keep me going.

How To Watch Your Brother Die

(A moving piece I happened to stumble upon)

When the call comes, be calm.
Say to your wife, "My brother is dying. I have to fly
to California."
try not to be shocked that he already looks like
a cadaver.
Say to the young man sitting by your brother's side,
"I'm his brother."
Try not to be shocked when the young man says,
"I'm his lover. Thanks for coming."

Listen to the doctor with a steel face on.
Sign the necessary forms.
Tell the doctor you will take care of everything.
Wonder why doctors are so remote.

Watch the lover's eyes as they stare into
your brother's eyes as they stare into
space.
Wonder what they see there.
Remember the time he was jealous and
opened your eyebrow with a sharp stick.
Forgive him out loud
even if he can't
understand you.
Realize the scar will be
all that's left of him.

Over coffee in the hospital cafeteria
say to the lover, "You're an extremely good-looking
young man."
Hear him say,
"I never thought I was good enough looking to
deserve your brother."

Watch the tears well up in his eyes. Say,
"I'm sorry. I don't know what it means to be
the lover of another man."
Hear him say,
"Its just like a wife, only the commitment is
deeper because the odds against you are so much
greater."
Say nothing, but
take his hand like a brother's.

Drive to Mexico for unproven drugs that might
help him live longer.
Explain what they are to the border guard.
Fill with rage when he informs you,
"You can't bring those across."
Begin to grow loud.
Feel the lover's hand on your arm
restraining you. See in the guard's eye
how much a man can hate another man.
Say to the lover, "How can you stand it?"
Hear him say, "You get used to it."
Think of one of your children getting used to
another man's hatred.

Call your wife on the telephone. Tell her,
"He hasn't much time.
I'll be home soon." Before you hang up say,
"How could anyone's commitment be deeper than
a husband and a wife?" Hear her say,
"Please. I don't want to know all the details."

When he slips into an irrevocable coma,
hold his lover in your arms while he sobs,
no longer strong. Wonder how much longer
you will be able to be strong.
Feel how it feels to hold a man in your arms
whose arms are used to holding men.
Offer God anything to bring your brother back.
Know you have nothing God could possible want.
Curse God, but do not
abandon Him.

Stare at the face of the funeral director
when he tells you he will not
embalm the body for fear of
contamination. Let him see in your eyes
how much a man can hate another man.

Stand beside a casket covered in flowers,
white flowers. Say,
"thank you for coming," to each of seven hundred men
who file past in tears, some of them
holding hands. Know that your brother's life
was not what you imagined. Overhear two
mourners say, "I wonder who'll be next?" and
"I don't care anymore,
as long as it isn't you."

Arrange to take an early flight home.
His lover will drive you to the airport.
When your flight is announced say,
awkwardly, "If I can do anything, please
let me know." Do not flinch when he says,
"Forgive yourself for not wanting to know him
after he told you. He did."
Stop and let it soak in. Say,
"He forgave me, or he knew himself?"
"Both," the lover will say, not knowing what else
to do. Hold him like a brother while he
kisses you on the cheek. Think that
you haven't been kissed by a man since
your father died. Think,
"This is no moment to be strong."

Fly first class and drink Scotch. Stroke
your split eyebrow with a finger and
think of your brother alive. Smile
at the memory and think
how your children will feel in your arms
warm and friendly and without challenge.

Michael Lassell

Another night



The wait was long

Hide and seek

The moon was being naughty