Into the Silent Night

Up, sweating and still not found
The source of that mysterious sound
I shudder to the eerie night
And chug down water for some respite.

I berate my little beating heart
The coward it is that beats so fast
My courage now i rise to test
With my heart smashing against my chest.

And then in a corner dimly-lit
I get a faint glimpse of it
The night its ally and its cloak
Was it to this that i disturbingly awoke?

The rest of its form unseen
Its feline eyes staring back at me
I jump right out off bed
A reflex out of sheer dread.

I stare at its form revealed
That lay in the dark so long concealed
I realize what i stare at
Is a terrifying jet black cat!

And then all terror, panic seize
As i hear the rustling leaves
and the trees knocking the window panes
Driving me with fear insane!

But my nightmare just seems to begin
As my ready instincts kick in
For the cat lunges now at me
As i struggle hard to break free.

The window panes break open
As a gust of wind rushes in
And as i wrestle with the cat
I am hit on my head so bad.

I slump like a body dead
Clutching my split head
I lie in a pool of dark blood
That pours out like a flood.

I feel the presence of imminent death
As i count my fading breath
My vision blurs, i lose all sight
I go into the silent night.

I wake up with a sudden start
And carefully check for damaged parts
I see no cats and no blood stains
I see no wounds and i feel no pain.

But i have left something behind
Something i can't return to find
I woke up free, I feel so light
For i am sure i was DEAD THAT NIGHT!

School is a place to study

'Excuse me,is this the way to Hari Lal's house,' a well dressed man asked a farmer who was busy on his farm.
'Yes this is the way,' snapped the irritable farmer who seemed to have been engrossed in his thoughts, now deeply disturbed.
'What have you got to do with him? Are you another bank officer?,' the farmer asked suspiciously.
'Oh no, i am here to see one of his daughters. You see her name is...'
'Bitiya, isn't it. Why have you come here to see that troublesome girl,' the farmer asked his curiosity risen.
'You know Bitiya? Wow! Actually i have come to see her for...'
'Of course i know Bitiya and her two sisters, Chanda and Rajjo,' growled the irritated farmer. 'First the bank hounds us and now you.'

The man understood that the farmer was deeply worried about something.

'Well, i am here to see Bitiya and her family. It is a decision they have to make and since i have met you, her father, maybe we can discuss this in doors.'

'Ah so you realized i am the father of that little troublemaker now did you.'
'Why, what has she done,' the curiosity of the stranger now piqued.

'Well i have three daughters as you know. The youngest is Bitiya. The first two are so responsible and this one, what can i say. The first two know their responsibilities towards our family. They know the financial condition of their father and help in every way they can and on the other hand that girl is engrossed in her own world. She is stubborn just like her mother and...' suddenly the farmer fell mum.

The stranger still couldn't understand. 

'Well, Sir, I am here to discuss about... 

'Discuss about what? I don't even know where you come from? Who sent you here?'

'Sir, the village school headmaster directed me here.'

'Oh now i get it. You are from that rotten school. That building is the one which is the cause of all my troubles. I sent all the three girls there and one is enough to give me trouble for the rest of my days.'

'Oh, which class do Chanda and Rajjo study in? The headmaster never mentioned anything about them!'

'Which class do they study in,' the farmer asked back echoing the stranger's question.'They do not go to any class there. They help in preparing and serving the mid-day meals. Helps in a little earning and they get to eat a proper meal also.'

The stranger now stood stunned on his spot, his brow furrowed.

'If those two work over there, then what does Bitiya do?'

The farmer laughed out of scorn.

'She doesn't do a thing out there. Not a bit of work. That is the trouble. She STUDIES out there.
Up until now the Village Panchayat was handling the expenses of her studies. Said she was bright. What is the use? She passed her tenth standard with flying colours and now awaits for further studies. She has been badgering me to send the other two also to the school for studies. Who will handle all that?Now she thinks she will go higher up and touch the sky. She doesn't realize that her dreams have got limits.' 

On not getting any response from the stranger, the farmer snapped.

'I have been yapping about like a mad man. What were you here to discuss?'

The stranger smiled and answered.

'Sir, you daughter is very well aware of your limits. Fortunately she is not aware of her own. She had written a scholarship exam two months back and has passed with as you described "flying colours"!'

It was the farmer's turn to stand stunned.

'Sir, you sent your daughter to school for the right reason. School is a place to study.'

A Father's Pride

Men are but creatures who flaunt little emotion
and whatever little they do flaunt is their Pride

                                      -Saying by Anonymous


Now that I look back I hardly remember him showing much emotion. An occasional nod or a smile was all I received. His face was very hard to judge. It was a stern mask that refused to divulge the man inside.
        When i was very young, i won a fancy dress competition at school and my mother gushed with pride clicking pictures and pointing out to everyone that i was her daughter making me suitably embarrassed. As we reached home, my mother found my father had come from his office early and was reading the morning newspaper. 
          'See, Aisha has won the fancy dress competition at school. All her teacher's were praising her,' she said forcibly handing out the certificate to him. He spared it a glance, turned to me and gave me a curt nod signalling his acknowledgement and went back to reading the newspaper. I was too young to understand but over time i would realise that all my achievements would only earn me this rare nod and nothing more.
              I would usually stand first in my class and academically was way ahead of my peers. My mother would proudly declare that day a celebration. I would turn expectantly to my father and after having handed him my report card would wait for his face to light up, the pat on my back and the words that would make complete my day. But then again, he would go through my grades, look up to me, his face cold. He would mumble some words that sounded like positive grunts and go back to what he was doing. At times i would feel like crying and at times i would be furious. I would yell around in my room and my mother would come to comfort me. He seemed a distant stranger who provided for my needs, nothing more, nothing less. 
              I had decided that i would make him appreciate me and so took to extra-curricular activities and sports. I excelled in them too and went onto win medals. My mother amongst the other parents would shed tears of joy and wave out to me. But my father was never present in any of these events and all i do remember was my eyes searching for his happy face and clapping hands amongst the many unknown faces. It never felt enough and i strived harder. My mother had explained to me that my father had always been like this and so would never change. Did that mean that my expectations meant nothing to him?
               Everyone i came across said that my father was a very proud man, a stone who was so firm that it was impossible to move him. I had been convinced that i should have made him proud enough. But it seemed his daughter was enough. I decided to finally quit for the first time in my life. I was sixteen then. 
                But my mother never gave up and strived to bring us closer. So one Sunday, she declared that she needed some vegetables from the market and i was to take my father for it. He did not put up no resistance and mechanically agreed.
                As we walked to the market not a word passed between us and as we reached it, he walked to another part of it and vanished into the bustling crowd. I sighed thinking of my mother's efforts again having gone in vain. As i started picking the vegetables, i felt someone repeated brush against me and at first ignored it. But as it continued on, i turned around to find two boys slightly older than me ogling me and passing lewd comments. one pointed at me and another giggled. 
                  I marched across to them and soon an argument began. Before i could do some thing, one of the boys shoved me around as the onlookers did nothing. The boys started walking away, when i threw a vegetable at them and started beating one of them, much to the horror of the other. He foul mouthed me and ran away leaving his friend to me. 
                   And then i saw him. My father was running behind the other with everything he had got and ended up catching him also! What followed was a thrashing so sound, that finally the crowd had to intervene and pulled my father back lest he kill the guy. My father's face was a contorted mask of rage that day as he wildly tried to break away from the crowds' clutches.
                   The words that he uttered after that would surely ring in my ears for the rest of my life. 'Nobody messes with my daughter. She is enough for both of you scum. Damn you, she is my pride you get it. And nobody messes with MY PRIDE!!!! 
  
               

The Smiling Camel

The Smiling Camel

The fellow of the desert tribes

The treasures of the merchant old

Its tracks imprinted ever onto

The desert sands of mounting gold

For miles and days it goes on

Into the capricious desert far

With little food and drink to have

Under the Sun and under the stars

Its eyes against the desert winds

To them the mirages unseen

Unwavering from its line of sight

Its senses strong and ever so keen

On its back the fortunes of deserts lie

A group called a caravan

In the desert it is the

Best friend of a man

The desert tests this hardy beast

And the fellow travellers along with it

Those who survive for another day

A testament of true gut and grit

It is the means, it is refuge

The ship of the desert it is

Its hump is its source of life

Refilled at every oasis

The burning sand under its feat

It goes on for miles and miles

And still it weathers the desert heat

With what appears to be a giant smile!

And the miracle was done!

He felt his slender throbbing legs

As fear coursed through all the four

His screaming senses pointing at

The approaching danger furthermore

He was but a few weeks old

A little fawn yet very agile

New to this World so large

Unaware of the capricious Wild

All stood still in the tall grass

To move he did not dare

His neck now craned to his right

To the danger now more aware

The afternoon Sun beat down on him

As he tried to look around

And then he caught the change in green

A shade of very hairy brown

Out lunged a mighty beast

The pride’s great alpha male

The little fawn had darted now

With a giant lion on his tail

Swift as an arrow, against the wind

On his nimble feet flying away

In hot pursuit the lion was

Top predator versus little prey

The lion inched bit by bit

Within his grasp the agile fawn

In his monstrous jaws the little thing

Would disappear now forever gone

With a final leap upon the fawn

He dug deep his dagger claws

He landed in a cloud of dust

In which his prey was completely lost

The fawn would live for another day

As he was the victorious one

He reached the herd and moved on

And thus the miracle was done

  

The biggest twist of the mobile age!

            This was when i was nineteen. I was addicted to Whatsapp, hooked to Facebook and forever in front of the television watching football.
             So my parents took urgent measures to curb this. My cell was taken away, the internet was banned and the cable was cut. Doomsday was upon me and i couldn't do a thing about it. 
             After a week of surviving hell, a ray of hope finally presented itself. My parents and our neighbours, the Sharmas had been invited to a marriage function. I was appointed babysitter to look after the Sharmas' two year old son, Vivek. And thank my stars, the neighbours insisted that i come over to their house to look after him. My rehab was coming to an end for a day and coincidently Barcelona were playing Real Madrid. NIRVANA!
             After they left, i sat comfortably in front of the T.V. and put on the sports channel. As i settled down to see my favourite team play, i looked around to make sure that Vivek was fine. 
             But the little guy was no where to be seen. I searched the entire house but there was no clue as to where he was. As i emerged in the hall again, the pesky little trouble-maker shot out from below the sofa with the precious remote in his hand. The channel had been changed to a depressing Saas-Bahu serial in which the mother-in-law was plotting the end of her daughter-in-law. 'DAMN,' i muttered under my breath and ran around the house chasing mini Usain Bolt. I was soon panting as the stupid Bahu on T.V. was running from goons out to kill her. The match was to begin at 10 p.m. and it was already 10:15p.m. And in a desperate attempt, i lunged at him but caught empty air. But the channel had once again been changed to the sports channel in which it seemed Barcelona was dominating the game. I breathed a sigh of relief and sat down once again when the brat materialised again making faces and taunting and changing the channel to a kids show. I bore it and expected him to settle down in front of the T.V. But instead he switched off the T.V. and threw the remote. I watched my precious break in front of my eyes.
              I thought i heard a snigger from him and once again it was a game a cat and mouse. I had forgotten all about the match and this was about my honour. I had lost my cell phone, my unlimited access to the internet and T.V. and now Vivek, the innocent kid that he was, had broken the T.V. remote which had taken away with it the last shred of my sanity.
              I do not know how long it went on but eventually i did catch him when he slipped on some of the water he had flung on my face in the wash room.
              Now as i stood victoriously over him, he started bawling his lungs out threatening to awaken everyone in the building. My ears tore open and the next hour was spent in dancing around like a lunatic, offering to play with all the soft toys he had and even inviting him to ride me like a horse. But he did not stop and i cursed my immaturity. As i thought nothing worse could happen, the bell rang and i froze on the spot. After a moment or two, gingerly opened the door allowing the Sharmas a full view of their wailing child. I expected a deadly barrage of verbal scoldings from them but to my shock and the biggest twist in this story, his father calmly walked up to Vivek and handed him his smartphone. The kid immediately shut up and started playing games on it.
             My parents showed no surprise and waited to take me back home.
'WHAT THE ...,' i muttered as i was dragged back home with Vivek playing angry birds on the phone.    
                

I miss my School

I waited for the bell to ring

and for the next class to begin
But the boredom ceased to end
So students failed to attend

P.T. classes were such fun
Down to play we would run
Playing football with my friends
Under the raging afternoon Sun

Physics, Chem and Bio would
 threaten my report's score
Social Sciences would eat my head
While the Maths was such a bore

But languages were fun to learn
for the teacher was not so stern
And marks she would throw at us
So willingly without a fuss

For the annual day we would wait
In an auditorium ornate
With performances worth the prize
And proud tears in our parents eyes

The sports day was a rush
With sports events in the slush
We would make our houses proud
As our mates cheered out aloud

The march past rumbled the ground
Screaming students on the stands abound
And the medals and the victory stand
With grinning faces covered with sand

And the terminal exams would come
Difficult for many,easy for some
'I am failing this time man'
And many would use means under-hand

The rankers' names on the board
for in exams they mighty scored
The others with their jealous eyes
But congratulated in disguise

Then the boards along with standard tenth
torturing us to a length
And tuitions classes full year
Our 'futures' would be decided here

Those days were the longest known
and then suddenly we were grown
The time came for separate ways
was this the end of days?

But these times in our hearts will be
Those evergreen memories
I miss my awesome school
and even some of its strict rules