I am commonly cold

It's cold.

My hair vaguely resembled straws of salt and pepper, neatly parted to my right. I normally ignore the greys despite my age, but today it stood out almost yelling its likeliness to my mood. The lump in my oesophagus felt like an irritated insect gnawing away at my throat, making it itch. The insect's wrath was felt by my head and eyes, the former aching and the latter watering. My lips were dry and the constant pounding itch pushed my tired legs into the bathroom. My hands cupped the water from the basin and in a swift movement washed it down my throat.

Insects hate water.

As I spat out the gargle, the pain subsided for a mere moment only to itch its way back with renewed vigour and rage. The insect was angered by the sudden gush, and I was paying the price.

I rushed now to the stove and waited with my droopy watery eyes and aching head for the water to heat. As it reached boiling point, I put my numb finger in the water only to find no feeling of warmth. yet, I poured it out into a glass and drank.

Slowly this time. The insect mustn't know.

As the soothing warm water caressed my inner pipes like molten lava, I felt my head letting go of its binds and my eyes sipping in the water. My lips were salivating and the dryness in my throat was gone. As the lava reached my guts, I felt the insect in me burn like a piece of paper subject to the wrath of the sun.

But it lived. The insect lived.

lava wasn't strong enough. The insect had me in its grasp. Although I told myself not to fall prey to its itch and demands, I found my hands go for the refrigerator and take out an ice cold bottle of water.

H2 WOE.

The insect was screaming now. In joy, as it anticipated the bacteria from the icy chills of the bottle to join it. It was to be fed. Like a parasite that it was, it had strayed into a much stronger being and made him fall to his knees.

As I sat kneeling beside the fridge, I felt my head burst again with heat. My throat dry and my eyes watery.

The Insect had won.

It's cold. And I hate parasites.

"Fuelling" The Fire

You had stock on 30th June, I said. I was in what I refer to as - the Auditor's element!

Diesel prices had just been slashed, bulk orders were on the rise and clients like mine, needed wholesale purchases in these times of global slow down. Yet, my client chose to buy 100.2 Lac Lts from the open market. A clear Rs.5 extra spent per Litre of diesel purchased.

I repeated myself to the finance executive, who looked lost and a little tired. His eyes sunk in, and his shoulders drooped. Poor creatures these finance guys, having to take a lot of flake from all quarters. It was 9 pm. His mind was probably on the canteen that was about to close in the township. Slowly his lips showed signs of movement and he murmured something that sounded like I'll get back to you. My subsequent smile must have zapped out the last bit of energy in him. Sensing this, I pursed my lips and decided to call it a day.

I took the long walk back to the township, with my finance friend for company. He still looked battered, as if the staff bus had just run over him!

Something bothering you? I asked. My theatre arsenal also possessed the gift of camouflaging my intentions. Yes, the devil was at work and there was that wee bit of sarcasm in my otherwise concern oriented question. He looked up suddenly and gazed at me for a couple of seconds and then returned to staring at the more comforting ground. The stone he kicked whacked the gate of the factory and woke the security on duty. The grumpy old watch was miffed and made no bones in showing his anger on my companion. The harsh words from the security guard further dampened my friend's non - existent spirits. His face lost colour and he vaguely resembled a grey lizard with no agility.

I don't understand what I am doing wrong yaar, He said, his voice barely audible despite the cold silence of the night. I smiled the smile that was meant for comfort, but I was certain he took the gesture to be one of victory. Realizing this, I took a more open handed approach. If you're worrying about the diesel, don't bother, the stores department are to answer that, not you.

But I am the one making the payment na?!, he said nearly in tears. At this point, I felt he was taking too much on to himself. Let's not jump to conclusions shall we? It's a valid point I have got. And everyone involved will have to be pulled up. Why are you buying and consuming diesel when the same is with you? Why are you buying diesel on retail instead of bulk? These are not answers a finance guy can give. I then smiled the comfort smile and this time it DID comfort him for a second, he then returned to brooding.

Well, you're a finance guy. And these questions came to you didn't they?! Yet they did not strike my brain yaar. I'm an idiot. I didn't quite get why he was being so hard on himself. Yes I had just stopped over 50 lakhs being paid in excess, but that seriously did not warrant such sorrow.

You are being to hard on yourself, I said. The devil at work was laughing. Here I was, 20, and barely a finance guy, and there he was 26, qualified and married, yet he refers to me as a finance guy.

The rest of the walk was sullen, yet a little more cheerful than before. We bid ourselves goodbye on reaching my room. I smiled to myself as I watched him walk towards his room in the opposite direction, occasionally blowing out air from his mouth is a huff and clicking his fingers in sheer agitation. I walked in to find my room neatly decked by the housekeeper. The aberrations in his performance seemed to have ceased since I had found out he had been nicking the company's gasoline.

As I changed into my night wear and lay down on my warm bed, my cell phone beeped an incoming text message. My friend, the finance executive, thanked me for my "comforting" words.

I laughed. The devil too was laughing. The devil wanted me to reply the truth, but good sense prevailed and I sent a thanks. The truth? Well, what my friend the finance guy failed to understand - was that he wouldn't have required any comforting words, let alone from the person responsible for his present predicament.

The world has gone mad

It's a strange world we live in.

One of the safest places to sleep is besieged by cowardly boys calling themselves men.
The busiest railway station witnesses a massacre by "men" who enter by sea.
One of them caught, not known how many dead, not known how many still alive, where they be!
One cannot but help laugh at the prospect of their strength being only ten.

It's a strange world we live in.

The country that divided brothers 60 years ago, now decide to flee back to their soil
leaving the still blind and angry brothers to fight in turmoil.
For them, it was a game then, one of their many ploys
They don't realize it is a game now, played by boys.
They run now in the name of terror,
have they any idea their scars will remain forever?
Yet, shamelessly we ask them to stay,
like everything is all ok.
From the same country we demanded a "Quit"
now we beg them to send back their playing unit.

It's a strange world we live in.

Television channels had a field day.
They thought they had things at bay.
Oblivious to the fact that they could be hindering the rescue.
They turned deaf, running after survivors for an interview.

It's a strange world we live in.

Politicians played their vote bank cards,
they think they are scholars or even bards!
Their mouths reek of insensitivity,
they treat people with such triviality.
Jokers they are in this kingdom of falling cards,
leading this nation like a bunch of retards.
No respect given to the fallen soldiers,
now their heads roll like boulders!

It's a strange world we live in.

Where do we start on the people of this country!
They feel anger, betrayal, hurt and sorrow,
but they forget, they are the one's who build tomorrow,
yet they go up in arms against the system THEY set,
like a crying baby when its demands aren't met.

It's a strange world we live in.

It's a world where no one is a hero and there is everyone to blame.
To be in such a state is to be in a state of shame.
Pointing fingers everywhere, like we're all so brave,
The man the nation calls her father,
must be crying in his grave.

It's a strange world we live in.
And it's gone mad.
But now is not the time to give in.
THAT would be really sad.

Operation WS 32 - cut the enemy to size

The camouflaged attire I adorned didn't really speak volumes of my calibre as a fighter. It was just proof.... proof I was fighting something. I wore the thick shirt with relative ease. It was tighter than what I expected it would be. It cut my shoulders and was stuffy at the chest and neck. My pant was still unbuttoned. I had it on though, almost. It was the button that was bordering around being a nuisance. I tugged at the zip hard, trying to make it cross the "Line of control". But it remained insurgent to my wishes, like the refugee oblivious to the greener other side. I fought and fought and fought for god knows how long. It wouldn't budge. The battle was very nearly lost.

Sensing defeat my fingers caught hold of the button and its hole. The enemy had to be scuffed. It's what it deserved. And I was the undertaker. But the button was a coward, not wishing the hole to be strung around it's neck. The distance it had to cover to get to its hole was large, larger than ever. The mountanious trip to the gallows was a hard journey, and not surprisingly, much like the zip, the button too didn't budge. It was a refugee in another's camp, but this time, not oblivious to the fact there was peace at the other end. I t knew, yet had no choice.

But my hands didn't let go. They continued their constant onslaught of the button, and much likea forever troubled resident of an already troubled nation, it broke away and fell to the ground. There it fell, cut off from it's original position only because it couldn't cross the mountain inbetween.

I then saw the real enemy.

The mountain in between grew as the misunderstood button fell to the ground. It just kept growing. It was breathing like it was alive. But you could see that it was not active. THAT land was the enemy. The enemy that was left to grow in between by an inactive and lazy mind.

Now I had to mend it. Otherwise it would continue to grow like a bottomless pit in the middle of the atlantic.

And then it came to me. Operation WS (Waist Size) 32 (inches). The Brainstorm of an idea to rid my body of no man's land. Then there would be no conflicts. A world protected by a process stronger than the protection of a pant zip.....

Losing weight.

I had to cut the enemy to size and this was my only choice. It had its many advantages.

But for a fighter like me... the biggest would be.... the opportunity to "stand at ease".

One meaningful journey

Muniguda

I had such familiarity in going to unfamiliar places. So, Muniguda didn't seem too intimidating. The train I was on was anything but an Express. I wasn't complaining anyway, there was no one around to complain to. I couldn't sleep. I had already slept the night and most of the day. The late evening chill pinched my cheeks as I put my face out of the coach door. I could see only what darkness himself could see. The occasional railway line lamps did not add any light to the journey, but it did give hope that the world still existed!

A chirpy, plump railway caterer smiled his way up to me. I returned the smile and asked him what he wanted. "Thats what I wanted to ask you", he said, with near perfect English. I say near perfect as his Telugu accent could not be missed. I laughed and said a tea would suffice. He hopped back to the pantry along with his well kept tummy and I returned to my gazing at nothing. I don't know how long I gazed, but my glasses did turn all hazy. There was a pat on my shoulder and the whale of a pantry guy was back. He had a cup of tea on a tray he held and I took it gratefully.

"Are you a student?"

The loud yet expected voice of the pantry official overshot the chugging of the train. He was still smiling though. I nodded in reply, it made life easier, nodding, amidst the pleasant noise. "My son was a student once", he said, holding the support as his tummy chugged along with the train.

"Oh is he done with studying now?"

"No...... he is just done."

At first I did not understand what he was trying to say, but only after his smile disappeared did I realize what he meant. Before I could apologize, he smiled again and with tears in his eyes spoke with great pride;

" My son was in the army. He fought terrorists, much the like the ones who were in Mumbai. I am sure he saved loads of people, but I don't know, I don't know what happened to him. I have been here in this train for 25 yrs now, and done nothing useful, except give this nation a son who could save it from turmoil. You are probably wondering how I speak English so well, well, that too was thanks to my son."

His smile was wider than ever, I felt like crying but his genuine love for his dead son had made my senses go numb. I didn't gaze at the darkness anymore, I started now gazing at the wide man with an even wider smile speaking proudly about his dead son.

After an awkward but pleasant conversation with the man, I placed my empty tea cup back on his tray with currency. He smiled again and bobbed his way to the next compartment. Before he was out of sight he turned back and said;

"Sorry for the disturbance, but I thought I should tell you that. Younger generation holds the key. This nation depends on youth. Good bye. Muniguda is next station. All the best for your audit."

All I could do is smile. There was a bunch of politicians sitting in the berth nearest to the doors. As I heard them laughing, drinking and smoking oblivious to the rules and regulations of train journeys, my body seethed with anger. There they sat, not concerned with the law they need to be enforcing on other people. Occasionally, one goon would go into orchestra mode and his many chamchas went into bouts of "Wah"s.

I tried not paying attention to them, as my station drew nearer. My phone beeped a message. It was my colleague at Lanjigarh. Muniguda station was not a safe option as naxalites had started off a violent strike at that province. Again I was reminded about the chubby caterer and his son. had he told me the truth? He seemed to be. His voice resounded with pride and passion. And there I was, finding solace by just staring into darkness as I had nothing better to do. Who would give him solace? Who will give meaning to his life now?

The answer then came to me.

He had already found his meaning.

His life now was now about giving meaning to all young blood boarding this train.

Ambodala was to be my stop said the subsequent message. The politicians were becoming unbearable. They were passing comments on women young enough to be their daughters. As I walked past the the corridor to give them a reproachful look, the whale of a waiter returned and gave that curved smile that calmed my seething young blood.

"Don't get down at Muniguda. Big strike. Naxalites are involved babu. Don't get involved in that. Precaution better than cure! ok andi?"

I smiled back and I guess he got the message. He then saw me staring at the politicians, who were oblivious to our presence.

"They are politicians babu. They will do like that only. You don't bother about them and all. Ambodala only 5 minutes away from Muniguda. Get out and be calm." He bobbed back waving his pudgy hand at me.

Ambodala came. And almost immediately went. But the two minutes went like 2 days. I got out with bag and baggage onto the ground. It was bare, it was cold and it was midnight. An old shrivelled station master raised a flag, its colour lost in the darkness, to signal the end of the two minutes. I heard a string of 'Wah"s.

But I couldn't possibly waste time thinking about them. They had no job.

As the whale of the waiter would say "they will be like that only"

I had a job to do. And I had to do it well.

I smiled as I walked back alone to the gate, as the train chugged the other way, there in the distance at the coach door, the pudgy pantry waved me a bye and then gave me a big thumbs up.

And even darkness himself couldn't hide the smile written all over his face.

There...and back again

I lay down on my cold bed. It was well past midnight. I was not scared, yet I was shivering like a mouse in the dirty claws of a savage like cat. Nothing could stop it. My teeth chattered away like a machine making the only sound in the empty room.

The cat's grip became tighter almost vice like as it squeezed the life out the mouse like soul on the cold bed. It wasn't the chill in the wind. I was immune to that. It couldn't be the water from the bath. What could it be?! I couldn't feel blood, that comforted me. Then.....

My head burst.

I was in a place very close to my heart.... open.... smelling of rich wood furnishings and lights. The stage was naked and one could see a rusted old nail dead centre. The place was empty except for a solitary chair in the middle of the audience. Someone was sitting on it with his back to me. I moved cautiously toward the person and when I saw who it was I let out a short scream no one else could hear.

I saw myself standing in front of me, taller, slimmer and a lot more likable than my usual self. I could have sworn my twin's skin tone was a shade lighter. It wasn't because of the lights on him, one could sense a divine glow. I certainly did.

Who are you?

Who do you want me to be?

That settled it. He was definitely more intelligent.

What am I doing here?

Do you want to be here?

uhh.... ya... I know this place... but what do you mean?

Do you want to be here? He repeated with a smile I could have never sported.

Well... yes....no... well.... why am I here?

That's a better question.

I scanned him too quickly. I was not able to stop my eyes from ogling at myself. Who was he? He wasn't me. But he was. WHAT WAS GOING ON???

You want to be here don't you?

Don't you realize you have been shooting only questions?

Yes. Didn't you realize? - he shot back. I didn't expect it. It hit me hard. Very Hard. What did he mean by that? He had given me his first answer but only to follow it up with a slap on the face kind of question. Did he really want me to answer that?

I don't always question..... I said, not too sure of myself.

He smiled again. I wish I could do that, I thought.

You love this place don't you?

Yes.

You want to be here now and forever?

Yes.

You want to be left alone here?

Not always.

Good one. You want them to come too?

Them?

Them.

Yes.

Do you like it where you are?

I can't answer that.

Why not?

I don't want to.

You can't or you don't want to?.. make up your mind.

I DO NT WANT TO , I screamed. The voice carried and bounced off the walls.

You want to be there too don't you?

Yes. I do.

Even though you don't have to?

No... I have to.

But you don't want to?

I.... have to... so... I want to.

Is that even possible?

It is.

You think so?

Yes.

He smiled again. I could feel tears falling down my cheeks. But I wasn't crying. What was going on?

Then it hit me again. My head was bursting. It had woken up.

I knew. And then I said;

I know who you are.

What?

WHO ARE YOU?

I am you.

No you are not. You are not me.

Says who. He was frowning now. He looked tough to crack. I felt the shiver again. Now I knew what it was. It wasn't the bed or the wind. It was him.... it was me... and it was just the two of us.

Then who am I?

You are nobody.

WHAT? His eyes grew bigger than usual and they tore through my skin almost burning me. His eyebrows sharpened and he lost the divinity he first possessed.

I stood firm. Not moving an inch. Looking back, eyes and brow steady and looking him in the eye. I knew I was burning. But I dare not let him know he was winning.

I want to be here. Yes.

THEN COME. COME HERE FOR GOOD. He was screaming. His voice resounding between the four walls and the place was now no longer empty. Millions of faceless Shadows stood facing us. One half of the million shadows laughed at me and the other half's faceless expressions showed signs of worry and love. But I didn't pay them too much attention. This was unreal. And he wasn't me.

I have to go back... because I want to.

NO YOU DON"T. His sharp eyes were now red, and his teeth grew into fangs. He no longer sported the smile, and he was dark. Darker than the shadows around him.

I don't need you. I need me.

YOU NEED ME. YOU ARE LOSING YOURSELF THERE.

No I am not. I will lose myself here.

YOU LOVE THIS PLACE.

I'll LOVE IT MORE IF I DON"T STAY HERE.

YOU ARE A FOOL.

SAYS WHO? SAYS WHO? SAYS A PERSON WHO DOESN'T KNOW WHO HE IS!

That did it. My teeth were chattering because of my screaming. There was a scream, a scream that was making my head burst again, and he was turning into something. Something crude and disgusting. He was going back to being himself. My head continued to burst as he transformed. I yelled and my throat hurt. I then shut my eyes tight and ran....ran, not looking where I was going. I jumped the stairs leading to the stage and stopped just before I placed my foot on the rusted iron nail. I was not myself. I was hurting. He...it..whatever...was doing something to me. He was still going all hazy... with no physical form to his credit.

YOU CAN"T TAKE THE PAIN. YOU CAN"T. TAKE THIS WAY. It's easier!!!!

I shut my eyes again. Looked in his direction.

YOU ARE WRONG.

The nail near my foot grew thrice as long and gave itself a golden handle. There was no rust anymore. I bent down, picked it up and without thinking threw it at my other self.

It all went dark. And I could feel the mist again.

But I was shivering no more.

I had won.

For now.

Roar

Come.... Hear the roar!

There he goes, fearless, without a thought

written on his head are lines showing signs of worry

Yet, no thoughts one could read, sorry.

Did he find joy in this?

He has his target set... he cannot miss

Its about time... come... hear the roar!

His brow was like a bow, with eyes as sharp as arrows

And when they meet in perfect unison...

It'll come... the roar... the roar will come

The air kisses and his long flowing mane dances like the fire

Along the way, it caresses his face, is wood, burning it.

Victory is in sight, the arrows and eyes are one

The task shall be done, his brows and face agree

Looking,

Waiting,

Then... there she goes!!!!!

Now we wait

Now we wait... it'll come!

And there he screams

with a blend of joy and pain

with a tinge of sorrow and gain

the enemy has been SLAIN!

His roar resounds not for the victory

He doesn't know he has won

He screams..

for he has done what had to be done!

He will find joy in this...

But not now... not now

But come it will when he knows not

Yet here he screams, like there is no present or past

No thought telling him how long it will last!

Come... you have heard the roar!