बेजुबां

 

घसीट कर वो बछड़े को ले गए. इसलिए कि बेचारा बेजुबां था. जुबां होती तो कब की पोल खुल गई होती. यही कि गऊ माता और भैंस मौसी नहीं हैं. मेहज़ एक जरिया हैँ. पेट पालने का ही नहीं, उस से बहुत उच्च जीवन स्तर का. गाडी, बांग्ला, सैर सपाटा, समाज में सम्मान, दिखावा इत्यादि. इस सब की आहुति ये बेजुबां दे रहा है. बछड़ा गाय हुई तो उसी समय गरीब को माँ से दूर एक खूंटे के साथ तीन फीट जैसी लम्बी रस्सी से बाँध दिया जायेगा. इतनी दरियादिली! आख़िर गऊ माता जो है.उस बछड़े को देख देख कर दूध जो देगी, प्रतिदिन एक इंजेक्शन के बाद. ऐसा दर्द जो उसकी आत्मा हिला दे. बदकिस्मती से यदि बछड़ा बैल निकला तो उसको बीच सड़क पर मरने को छोड़ दिया जायेगा. गाड़ी बँगले के खर्च से इनके लिए चारा जो नहीं कोई खरीद पाता.आपने भी कई बार इनको सड़क पर हॉर्न बजाते हुए पार किया है. इतने छोटे और मासूम होते हैँ कि इन्हे मालूम ही नहीं होता कि सड़क के नियम क्या होते हैँ. बेचारे अनाथ जो हैँ. ऐसा बार बार जबरन गऊ माता को माता बनाया जाता है. इसी बात पर याद आया, भैंस के मांस का निर्यात करने वाले देशों में हम प्रमुख हैँ. क्यूंकि भैंस बेजुबां है, नहीं तो मौसी भेदभाव के बारे में पूछती. शायद ये भी बता देती कि सारी ज़िन्दगी तीन फीट लम्बी रस्सी से बंधकर इंजेक्शन का दर्द, भूसा भरे बछड़े के लिए रोते हुए बँधी हुई टांगों में दूध देना या कई घंटे कट कट कर मरना, उसको क्या अधिक पसंद है.

बकरों की तो पूछो ही मत! बेचारों का वाक्य “मैं “ पूरा ही नहीं हुआ. शायद ये बोलते कि “ मैं मरना नहीं चाहता हूं “. पर इस से पहले ही काट दिए जाते हैँ. वाक्य नहीं, बकरे. अजूबा ये कि इनको मारना भी धर्म के आधार पर तय किया जाता है. बारिश, मौसम, त्यौहार, दावत, खुशी के बहाने. और स्वाद के बहाने. उन 15 बेहतरीन मिनट के लिए, एक बेजुबां जान.

जेल में क़ैद बच्चे. मुर्गी के, सूअर के, अन्य जानवर के. सांस के लिए तड़पती मछली. और ना जाने क्या क्या. हमको दर्शन कराने, माल ढोने के लिए, ऊन के लिए, खाल के लिए …शायद ज़ुल्म की सूची बहुत लम्बी है.

अब हम इस प्रकार की बातों को पढ़ना नहीं चाहते. पर हम ये सब ख़ुद कर या पैसे देकर करवा सकते हैँ. क्यूंकि जानवरों के पास ज़बान नहीं. इनको कटते हुए देखना. उनकी जुबां तो है, हम सिर्फ उनकी चीख को सुनना नहीं चाहते. ये बेजुबां नहीं है. हम बेहरे हैँ और हमारी आत्मा भी.

मन का भगवान

 

कबीर का ध्यान अनवरत रूप से भगवान में ही लगा रहता था. उसकी निष्ठा और सादगी से प्रसन्न हो एक बार प्रभु ने उसे दर्शन दिए. बोले, “ मांगो क्या चाहते हो “. 

कबीर के समक्ष स्वयं प्रभु थे  परन्तु उसने ध्यान न दिया. भगवान ने पुनः वरदान देने की चेष्टा की. सुनते ही उसने बिना किसी संकोच या गंभीर सोच के तुरंत ही मांग लिया, “ हे प्रभु! आपको पूजने की सही विधि का ज्ञान दे दीजिये “. 

सुनकर भगवान के आंसू बहने लगे. भक्त की सरलता देखकर वे विस्मित थे. मुस्कराते हुए वे बोले, “ तू प्रत्येक दिन सुबह और सायं कुछ क्षण मेरे भजन सुना कर “. 

कबीर ने सुनकर मन में दोहराया. उसके असमंजस को देखकर भगवान को जिज्ञासा हुई. वे बोले, “ पूछो वत्स, क्या दुविधा है? “.

 निर्भीक भाव से कबीर बड़ी मासूमियत से बोला, “ भगवान, यदि दिन में दो बार भजन सुनूँगा तो क्या अपने मन के भगवान को क्या कुछ देर छोड़ दूँ? “

प्रभु अवाक थे, “ मन का भगवान क्या होता है? कुछ देर छोड़ने से क्या तात्पर्य है? “

मानो आज भगवान की परीक्षा सरल भक्त ले रहा था. कबीर बोला, “ प्रभु! आप तो दिन रात में बहने वाली धारा हैँ. मेरी सांस के साथ आपका ध्यान तैरता है. कभी रात को सोते हुए जाग जाता हूं तो भी आपका ही ध्यान आता है. ऐसे में यदि कुछ देर अलग से आपका भजन सुनना होगा तो अपना ध्यान तोड़ना होगा. बहाव से निकलकर किनारे पर बैठना होगा क्योंकि एक साथ दो स्थान पर ध्यान नहीं जा सकता. कुछ अनुचित कहा उसके लिए क्षमा चाहता हूँ, दुनियादारी से दूर रहा हूं इसलिए ये प्रश्न उठ रहे हैँ. अतः मन के भगवान को कुछ देर के लिए छोड़ना पड़ेगा. “

भगवान कुछ प्रतिक्रिया करते उस से पहले भोर होते ही आस पास के कई धार्मिक स्थल जाग गए और उनके नाम को चीखकर पुकारने लगे. ये दिखाने वाला भगवान था. कदाचित इस भगवान को जताने के लिए ऊँची वाणी में याद करना आवश्यक था. पत्थर पर बैठकर धारा का वर्णन करना था , पानी में भीगना नहीं था. किसी झुरमुट में झींगुर टर्रा रहे थे. कोयल अपने कंठ को तान रही थी. नदी कल-कल बह रही थी. प्रभु कान पर हाथ रखकर, दुनियादारी निभाते हुए कबीर को देखकर मुस्कराये और चल दिए. 

कबीर को अपना दोष पता नहीं चलने का पछतावा हो रहा था. उसके मन का भगवान तो मन का भाव भी जान जाता था.

The cleaning of rain

 

Rainwater is scientifically the purest form of natural water. However, my city becomes filthy when it rains . The yearning for rain in the sweltering heat transforms into dismay to find rain playing havoc with civic life .

The traffic becomes a nuisance with lack of drainage creating rivulets on crossings , below the flyovers , on service roads and everywhere. Somehow we could find feet to check if water exists on other cosmic bodies but could do little to harvest the drizzle and the heavy downpour on our own planet.

We could still live with flooded roads had not our fellow citizens found it fine to flout all traffic rules with utmost disdain , more prominently painfully during the rainy season. There is a license to cross the red signal and to drive in opposite lanes. Probably the absence of traffic police makes it very convenient to discard human prudence. It’s not only me first , it’s only and only me . The implementation of traffic rules is  also enforced  like a fortnightly drive rather than on a perpetual by default mode. You could go scot free despite driving in an opposite lane in your car in front of the police only because they will be only nabbing bikers without helmets on the day.

The battery rickshaws create their own rules, plying across any lane and driving anywhere. So do the delivery boys . The city busses too are not far behind . With the bad precedence set, others too find it somehow justified to replicate this anarchy. In absence of any shelter, poor bikers and pedestrians gather below any foot overbridge making it impossible to cross such places. As it is there are schools , stores , complexes , gymnasiums etc that get approvals to operate without any practical solution to the parking requirement of their clients. There is a frequent sight of at least one lane occupied by unauthorized parking on road itself.

Then the garbage that doesn’t get disposed off for days. The city becomes a dumping ground with filth gushing out all over. The water lines sometimes get burst with the infested water entering main stream easily . At many places water supplies get adversely impacted. Coleridge would never have thought of this sinister version when he famously penned down,“ water , water everywhere , and not a drop to drink “.

Rain is a blessing from the skies and a balm on scorching earth. Human folly somehow is adept in converting the boon into a bane . We recall having read in history that even Harappan civilization had a proper drainage system. Sadly, we have smothered the existing network, forget create new ones. With the pressure on natural resources being extremely high , it is only prudence towards using the resources which will allow life on the lap of mother earth. Cctv cameras can be installed on traffic signals with an online mode of fine payment to avoid the notorious settlement on the road. A pic of violation instance can be recorded for transparency.  Licensing to ensure adequate parking facilities on upfront basis. Drainage is to be made mandatory for any building,  flyover or township planning.

All said and done, courtesy begins at home. It is silly to assume that if we will not be caught while violating our life and that of others will be safe. Enforcement can be an exception and indicative, never universal.  The responsibility of guiding the new generation is ours. As a dad flouts all rules of road only to drop his son to school on time , the little one understands it is fine to replicate it someday . The onus is on us to start on time before it will be so late that we will miss reaching the destination despite all our crooked means. The day we decide to reach late as a penalty of starting late rather than press our accelerator recklessly,  the rain will become a soothing experience and a spectacular sight again.

Hope we return to that day soon .

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The care taker

 

 

The Master handed over keys to the new inhabitant Jeevan.

Jeevan was a young lad with no major impressions in life, almost like a blank canvass . The Master had ensured some basic items of sustenance,  furniture etc were available to the occupants .So Jeevan started his first phase with minimal consumption. However, one fine day he woke up amidst commotion outside his house. There were new neighbors who had shifted in the morning. Their lorry carried some ornamental  furniture and showpiece items that were being carried by many laborers and placed inside the house. The screeching sound overflowed into his silent abode. Jeevan sped off to  work. However  , he could not help but think of the new neighbors and their belongings.  By the time he returned in the evening their house glowed in full glory , replete with spectacular items basking under focus lights .

Jeevan groped as usual to switch on his lights on return . In the process he also stumbled upon some furniture in the dark. He opened the windows for some fresh air but the first thing he could clearly see was the neighboring house. He sat on the wonted cot to sip some water. Somehow he was restless tonight. The room appeared to be dull and dim. He tried to sleep the whole night but rather found himself calculating how much money he could spare so as to match those who had set new standards. He was not sure of how much more comfortable or useful the new items would be but it was a race now ! He decided that he would get adequate rest now only on upgrading the house.

So the next few days Jeevan spent in ppeeping into their house , feeling how  he was no match for them  and planning for the new items. Finally after a week he could avail an emergency loan and got some equally decorative furniture . Now he was an equal in the race.  All this while, notable to mention is that the neighbors were not even aware of this competition they had landed into with someone.  However, it will not be wrong to state that basically these decorative pieces were eventually to make a statement of their affluence and  class.

When finally  Jeevan excelled in his job he found there were more things to buy for which he would work harder for affording them. So eventually Jeevan was struck in a vicious cycle , unsure if he was enjoying these things or rather latter were making him work more ! By now Jeevan’ s house was decked up so well that it hardly could be identified by the raw form he had moved into.  However, sometimes Jeevan fondly remembered those days of freedom and leisure when he had more of life and less of things .

One day the inevitable happened. The Master ordered him to just leave the house in a few moments . Jeevan pleaded for some time to carry the furniture he had amassed with so much of hard work. The Master would not listen. He said these signs of prosperity were of no use and he would have to restore the original version only.

 Sadly there is no rewind that we have in life. We are caretakers only and need to return The keys someday. The house He gives to us needs to be taken care of. Life deserves to be rich and not look rich . The sooner we appreciate the better.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The note of a note

 

I happen to be a currency note , slightly high valued so that everyone holds me with a high esteem. If ever I fall on the ground there are multiple hands to pick me up and eager to keep it sith themselves only rather than return me to my original master . Actually , I have no master. For one , I usually change people very frequently  . Morever, everyone appears to be my happy slave only.  So perhaps the idea of having a single master for long generally never comes into equation.

 However  , sometimes people hoard me and pray the currency is not demonetized . In such instances I have a single master for a long period but then I stay imprisoned with many more notes  of my flock in such situations , hidden underground,  beneath the mattresses , behind idols, inside camouflaged safe units, stashed within old garments etc. The probability of some financial mishap and the fear of not being able to earn more in future makes people imprison me . Strange that the owners who have many of my kind are more worried than those who have a few of us. The latter let me go free much earlier and often more gleefully than their more opulent brethren. 

People generally exchange me in lieu of goods or services they get. Soemtimes they buy life too using me by getting both dead and alive animals to their home.  However , in some cases money is not what money does. There is a confession I want to make now to clear my soul as I near my crumpled days. I have been a cause of lot of infighting , deceipt, disruption,  dispute , greed and negativity . Sometimes people offer me when they do not want to leave a trace of their presence or do not want to disclose  having bought something. I have often seen people mislead others or bargain with each other with an intention to keep me in their custody , only to fear rest of their lives that I would leave them. Surprisingly  , if they have two currency notes of same  value still they prefer to retain the shiny , newer one . Though it doesn’t matter value wise . Why they do it is best known to them . To me it doesn’t matter who my master is and what he plans to do with me . 

 I have been the cause of prayers and have heard there is a special faith and devotion towards even Gods who shower a lot of wealth  on devotees. On many an instance my presence in the closet brings more friends and relatives together till the time they believe I am present ininside. On a more positive note, I make people work hard and strive to excel beyond their normal capability in a quest to bring me their wallet. This continues till the time they forget I am not an end in itself but only a means towards an end . But many forget what their life means till the time it is about to end.Ironically , they started to ruin life to earn me so that they could enjoy life more ..whatever it means !  Then they feel probably they missed out appreciating the journey in a devoted frenzy to reach an infinite end. Probably it is not infinite but a cipher. Life exists when nothing else does . Rest all is only a distraction.  So am I.

The pass code

 

 

It had been long  Kritika and Rohan  had been married after falling in love during their college days .  It was a long battle against parents on either side,  to some extent the revolt of young blood had united them more than the love. Eventually , the parents gave up and this was a victory to the couple . The trophy was finally in the showcase .

However , the spark of fresh love gradually got doused by daily chores and maintaining life work balance. The trophy was covered by dust of negligence and taking the other one for granted. Then the fights started, where the involvement of the spouse started causing irritation rather than affection.Slowly but surely the trophy had  moved from shelf to the catacomb. What a pity !

But the world around them was oblivious of discord.  We often mould public opinion by showing them what ought to be rather than what actually is . It is a dangerous platform to twist emotion , time, complexion , form, opulence and the like. A lonely and gloomy evening is masked by the most convincing smile on social media. A dear one can be conjured up  by blending his past images on the photograph clicked in the present. One can morph and alter images to appear better looking or muscular or slender . Some pauper can appear to be draped in the most expensive branded garments.  It is obvious that we can easily befool the world , though eventually there is a mirror that reflects inwards to show who is being tricked. It is like window shopping  with a shoe string budget. You generally end up regretting for not being able to buy so many items  rather than feel happy on what you could eventually afford to. The glamour of striking a perfect pose with only thirty two clicks available in a camera will always turn these unlimited options available  bland.

So, coming back to Kritika and Rohan , their friends and relatives would not know what was simmering beneath the surface. It was only social reputation that made the couple tolerate each other. As a mutual convenience they minimized interaction and started living in their respective cocoons .

When the lava does not erupt, there is  increased risk of an earthquake.  The stifled emotion and loneliness made them start looking for solace outside the marriage.  In fact they starting exploring options in an event of divorce . Both starting developing friends they shouldn’t have done and started spending time where they found more relief than the cobwebs at home. They would chat with these friends for hours together even at home to fill the emptiness.  Rohan and Kritika had in a a shortwhile established a justification of a parallel life , beyond the monotony of matrimony . Their phones that were used interchangeably during courtship were now secured by pass codes  even as they sensed mutual insecurity.  This pass code was applied more in their demeanor where they stopped trying to solve the complex algorithm and explore each other again.Time flew in this morbid equilibrium, the volcano was now a passive one. There was sheer callousness where even the cactus had dried up. The secret disloyalty of spouse had convinced each one more to retaliate in an equal measure.

One day, Rohit met with a terrible accident. His car had rammed into a truck moving in the opposite direction.  He was rushed to a hospital , crushed in his car and shards of glass puncturing all over his body. Some passerby had called Kritika and she came rushing to the hospital.  The doctors tried their level best to delay the inevitable . Rohan and Kritika knew these were a final few moments together. The hospital staff left them alone realizing it. They looked each other in the eye, words were failing and tears were overflowing.  Rohan folded his hands seeking forgiveness and Kritika knew not whether to forgive or to repent. Rohan finally heaved his last breath and mustered strength to utter his last words. Kritika was inconsolable. Rohan said “100520” . He wanted to die with a clear conscience.  Kritika realized this was the date they had first met. Incidentally this was the passcode of her phone. She was devastated . Incidentally she knew this was also the passcode of Rohan’s phone. What Rohan knew will always remain a secret . About the secret.

 

7.6.24

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Numah Lamina

 

There was a contagious thought that spread when everyone slept at a common hour in the wee hours one night. Before we venture into that, the current situation is a little different ans I take you into my weird story.

The civilization has  strangely evolved in a little barbaric form . Here the development of animals has outpaced that of humans . In fact , this has given the beasts a reason to rule over us .

It is a common sight to find men lift the heavy stuff , dragging with all their might and getting whipped by some bull even as they struggle . Their nosestrills bleed with mucus and veins throb on forehead owing to sheer physical stress. I forgot to add, some rope string also runs down from nose rings to ease control by the bull. Sometimes the men also release their shit when whipped under a tremendous weight. When they eventually reach home they are tied to a small stump . By now the men have given up and fear the consequences of uprooting the stump . Towards the evening often they are forced to copulate by their masters . The ladies are pricked with injections to improve milk produce.  But their infants are dragged away from their right and  kept afar from moaning moms. Then the mothers are milched for food of other beasts . Sometimes the machines slice a little deeper and some blood and puss also oozes out . But who bothers?!

 Some humans are also imprisoned in public cells that are called zoos. Animals line up to see humans closely . Some mischievous children aim stones , throw waste and food inside the bars. The humans react and question their fault for being in this plight , much to the jeer of animal kids. Some of thr humans are kept in small baskets or boxes of glass, from where they try to rush out , only to fall back . This strangely evokes a lot of fun among the beasts.

There is another form of imprisonment, when animals put humans in a smaller prison that are called cage. Then they keep the men and women in their own homes . Sometimes they forget to attend to the humans. The humans are often kept away from food to teach them a trick or to obey the command.

If by now you thought this is cruelty, wait for the next one. This is a slaughter house, a murder industry that is legalized and profitable . Any human that is loitering or is obsolete owing to disease or old age is dragged by hair ,ear, cheek , neck or  whatever comes to grip. People are then stuffed into a truck carrying heaps of them. If they do not climb the truck , they are beaten mercilessly,  often a rod shoved up from behind . Somehow or the other they are  battered into submission. Then they limp into the death vehicle with no choice. Even in this industry the small babies are a preferred delicacy . Their souls smashed , they get carried to a butchery The pain of departing from family and home is diluted immensely in next few hours only because of a barbaric torture that awaits eagerly. Turn by turn their limbs are tied by a rope that doesn’t give way despite immense force that tries to break loose. Then the ends of rope are pulled together to make us fall in front of a blade .

There are differences that God “ allows “ us humans to be murdered. Either stabbed in a flash or with every vein and sinew is slit just to puncture it delicately , drop by drop life oozes out of body . Interestingly , there is a difference of opinion on what is the acceptable mode of this murder and often animals Clash with each other to establish their belief. For humans it is a difference of a few minutes from eventual slaughter only.

Not to talk of tanneries,  labs , hospitals,  and every possible way the animals brutalize us for their benefit and comfort.

Our infants are the source of juicy leg pieces, sometimes they are said to be grown artificially ..but they have llife.

The numah lamina, or the reversed form of human animal, waits for this weird night to end . A dawn that begins with the free chirp of birds and animals free to start their day without the benevolent humans. The word human is more terrifying than brutal, somehow.

 

Delhi

23.31 hrs

21.4.24

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Key to an imaginary lock

 

There is a traffic signal where your  expensive car comes to a halt late night.  You are busy on a phone call from other stake holders and there is a terrible escalation in office. Noting that there are 180 seconds to the  green signal , you open the lunch pack to avoid resentment at home . As you respond to allegations on phone , the morsel gets struck in the windpipe and you start to cough. You open the water bottle and it spills over you. Then you realize there is also a constant tapping on your windscreen and a few poor children are begging, expecting a good contribution from the expensive car. Struck amidst all this,  you throw the food out and curse your situation driving car home. The children are jubilant while they pick the feast . The same food that irritated you . 

What has changed the situation?  Only the state of mind . One man’s trash is treasure for another.

How do we keep ourselves happy ? Someone responded that as expectations cause disappointment  which ultimately causes sorrow, we must lower our expectations.  But by doing so, most often we feel being let down by ourselves or compromising on life . Our ancient thought is also not to bother about the result and to just concentrate towards discharge of our duty . This appears to be too perfect and ideal to follow ..

How do we manage this critical piece in the modern and practical world ? This needs some basic discussion first.

So to begin with , what is happiness ? Happiness is a state of mind . If we can manage to keep our mind out of bother and in good shape , troubles will fail to have any impact on our happiness .Sometimes we admit that a particular person makes us lose our cool. So in one way, we have handed over the keys of our mental state to the particular person. Then he enjoys taking us for a ride while we suffer at our plight. Should we not be the chauffer of our mind ? So we will have to take our own responsibility and respond with prudence , which is more critical than proving others wrong. We will not bang our car on another being driven in a wrong lane only to prove our point. Our first aim is to keep our car safe. That is precisely what it implies to keep our calm amidst all turmoil and provocation. 

Finally, happiness is like the equilibrium of a balanced body.  To maintain the equilibrium,  the centre of gravity must be the lowest possible.  Same stands for mental equilibrium.  The happiness must flow from lowest and not highest point. For us , if a small own home meant happiness years bqck , then a larger one followed by a bungalow,  now we find that  happiness erodes. However, the pettier the pre condition to be happy is, the easier it is to be happy. It is like dancing , you do not bother how your moves appear , and if you really enjoy your dance the outcome will also be enchanting . The cause will bring about the effect and not vice versa. So I will be happy with being alive itself. That is in fact the lowest denominator wherein the resultant value of fraction will be higher . So, in a prefect situation if the denominator is next to nil, our happiness will be infinite.  

So the next time we feel sad, be thankful for your breath that is still up and running! There is no misery in the real world, we fabricate it by altering our prefect state of mind..that begins with childhood which also incidentally remain the best days of our life . This is the Key to a non existent and imaginary lock.

The brass plated razor

 

It was my 20^th birthday when I was a nobody graduating from Arts in a college which was a haven for folks who were not doing much in life. It was literally a refuge , like a deserted port one could barely shore up to in a storm. Such a port has no facilities  it is a mere space to live , that’s all. Nor do the “refugees” have the privilege to complain, for as it is there is a storm that keeps them away from the sea. So they compromise with life and survive with their mediocrity.

 

Coming back to my birthday,  one of my close friends gifted me with a razor. It was really rather a piece that was too good for me to use. I mean, it was an expensive razor with certain parts plated with brass. I kept  treasured it and kept it safely till the day I felt it was truly deserved for shaving myself. Two years later, I eventually landed on a job just after completion of graduation.  But it was “ just a clerk trainee “ that I was in a Pvt Bank , so the razor remained like an unused treasure. Within a month I had cleared another competition as an all India topper but still it was “just an executive assistant “ in an NBFC. So I was still not worthy , so it seemed .

As I had appeared in several competitive exams after graduating, their results had started to trickle. Finally the big day arrived after 5 months. I had cleared Bank PO in my first attempt and now I had arrived finally . During my next trip to home I excitedly dug into my treasure and unpacked the razor .

To my shock, the non plated parts of the razor had crumbled out of non use . I could not muster courage to throw it in garbage . This event had taught me a good lesson on life. Our life is a gift , just unwrap it and enjoy ! That one day of having sufficient time, perfect circumstances,  less stress etc will perhaps never come . So let’s enjoy life as a gift of God.

When dust is clean - A short story

There is a hand sanitizer in my pocket all the time . A few extra remain in my car for an emergency that so far has not happened . In addition to the sanitizer I keep a soap bar should it be needed . There is dirt and slime everywhere that I need to avoid. Tap Knobs , napkins  , soap dispensers are the biggest source of germs . They befool the trusting hand that touches them innocently . The wash room door that is touched on return also returns the germs to hand.  The only change in the entire effort is that the poor fool does not realize that his hands are dirty again. Then the lines on fingers . Dust settles in the hidden sweat between them. The cleaner grooves also get filled when fingers rub with each other . 

The sin begins right from pillow and bed sheet. They get washed in same machine with other clothes used all around. The same press that touches other garments also touches them. Then I use remote and switches . These had fallen down many a time on floor. Someone also wore slippers and shoes on floor. Where all they might have landed need no description.  The newspaper that lands in balcony . Even if the floor has been wiped clean how can I ensure the hands of vendor are clean ? Tea cups might pretend to be clean but how do we know what was touched by the hand before they were pulled off from the shelf. The painter who polished shelves once ....so am I actually sipping the germs off his dingy brush ? It’s a cruel world indeed as slowly the bacteria and algae invade our health.

I was returning from park today when a puddle existed in the adjacent park. Some children were playing cricket .

They used the ball, put hands in pockets which were full of keys , phones and paraphernalia that might find it’s way

into their pockets . A  boy left game and rushed to his cycle as his mom scolded him for having forgotten a packet of biscuits at the nearby grocer shop. There money exchanged hands and landed into our dear pockets eventually . So my wallet us full of the germs on the soil in this park. When stray and pet dogs find poles and bushes . Eeeeww! I was just thinking when the biggest scandal in our times occurred.  The ball that carried fatality of all kinds suddenly started getting bigger and bigger as it came towards me . It hit my hands first and then popped up to touch my lips . The staunchest among all Brahmins had today tasted meat . The unpardonable and unthinkable had happened.  Darn ! 

I barged into the park and started yelling at the children . They had spoilt years of my impeccable vigil. I did  not need any explanation.  In my fit of unbridled rage I toppled on a bat and splashed into the puddle.  This was ultimate sin ! My limbs and mind were shattered . Tiny faces encircled me in disbelief on what had happened within a matter of few moments. I overturned towards darkening sky only to see them giggle.  I broke into laughter ! I laughed till the time tears rolled to clean trail . A few hands leaned to assist. I pulled them down into the slush . The park overflowed with laughter .

The G-hosts - a short story

There was a new entrant today. A twelve year old Chutki was battered after being molested. She had  walked in utter shock through the village street to her hut. Her frock that was stitched by her mother was ripped off from her body. As the crowds gathered she tried to hide her body with the tattered garb . The loudest jeer came from old men. She silently reached threshold and knocked with her might. Chutki’s parents had locked their doors from within.  She bled all night to death. “ Another gift from man unkind “ , said Abbu, the most seasoned ghost. Then he called Nathu and Raju as they prayed for her as she paraded after her demise.

“I come from a small village where illiterate people won’t understand “ , Chutki said in a self consoling mode. She bumped into a stack of small unborn sisters, United by all faith , creed and economic disparities.  The gifts were  returned strangely before the umbilical ribbon was cut. They all giggled in unison. There were the boys waving at them. These were the ones left to choke in ventilators  .

More gifts from Man unkind. The worshippers were blown by those who believed in a different God . Then some were the parcels from malls ,theatres , concerts. The reason of death was still being investigated . Chutki looked perplexed. Abbu understood and said “ these are the repercussions of progress “. A hand fell on them. Chutki shrieked with fear! It was a chilled hand.  Maybe someone was crossing a foot over bridge when the stampede began. People stepped on him till his ribs broke and limbs came off. His lungs were punctured.  “ Crowd frenzy “, Abbu said. Nathu shouted ,” and pray what was the crowd doing when they watched the this man hammered to death ? Why were they making videos and clicking selfies ?”.

Zubeda and Ravi were murdered for their inter religion love. They were returned to same Creator though. A soldier

still had has salute on as he narrated his story of technical snag of fighter jet.  There was one killed for protection of some animal .Abbu also introduced her to a herd of farmers who could not tolerate man unkind any further. Then there was a lady with tools inserted all over her as she had pleaded for mercy from a pack of boys. Nathu told that whenever they needed to repair anything she was called for assistance as hardly a tool was missing in her. The members had apparently been extremely kind to them. The most interesting tale was of Raju who had committed suicide while playing a game . 

This was the land of untimely deaths . Thankfully the ghosts had shed all blood before checking in. Chutki looked from above in disbelief ,” which is the ghostland?”. Here the ghosts did not believe in any creed or religion. They cared for each other and shuddered at the ways of man unkind. The alive people of our world , though say they do not believe in ghosts. Strange , isn’t it ?