Fidelity

The streets were being washed early in the morning. The very old part of this city was silent, calm and resting in peace. It seemed like the British left us independent just the day before. The normal bourgeoisie segment of people would cherish their freedom but the intellectual and rather pessimistic will see the glass half empty. He will analyse the sense of prior dependency and the utopian dream fulfilment which seemingly leads to a disaster. How pathetic will the government be? Yes! We can run the nation and give its long lost glory back but first we need to draft a massive constitution, a charter... more like a rule book. Oh yes! We’re democratic. This will and forever be a free country. Free from the shackles of tyranny and dictatorship. The people’s voice will be the government’s voice. We will draft a massive rule book in order to maintain what we are promising to our citizens. We will choose from an elite class of adept personalities, each a pioneer in their own field to draft and sign the rule book. This very book will be our constitution.

Finally the constitution becomes centric and salient. Subsequently it gets amended several times to fit in to the dynamic society. In the mean time the seat of the government is shaken and stirred by many protagonists and rebels. A steady government is a myth in democracy and a full fledged reality in autocracy and monopoly. The government becomes too greedy in its pursuits and restricts the flow of any healthy investment. For a shocking period of forty years the government blocks up the country. It stores every penny in its escritoire.

Then all of a sudden a change in breeze takes over the supreme democratic leaders and it opens its markets to the world, very slowly but consistently. We finally start to trade not just with goods in exchange of money, but money in exchange of money.

But it was too late. We were late in every sphere in history. We have taken too much time to get independent, and too much time to create value. We have maintained the continuum. Today when I walk through this really old and marvellous historic part of the city, I realize that nothing has really changed but the attitude of people. The once so patriotic and a substantially astral race of people, have lost their dream somewhere in between their bread and butter. They have learnt to compromise and escape and embrace the democratic hypocrisy with sullen faces and battered hearts.

Over Observant

Oh how despicable is the sight of life

The stage it sets out for you

The inches and yards it calibrates

Puts a full cooked meal, to be eaten

But errands to be completed before

Leaves you with a solemn sense of security

That your one touch can turn things to gold

With mere contemplation and inner scrutiny

For no one, not even your soul

Is ready to ameliorate the burns of friction

Between the prepared and underprepared

Settling you in a tight leash

Controlled by your palate so bourgeois

Behold and Beware

For how despicable the sight of life can be

THE FURY OF ONE’S MIND

The fury of one’s mind

Blinded by the innocence, of

The incandescent eyes, speechless and lulled

The cold blood racing through the loins

Filling her desolate anima so forlorn

Every inch of movement, swiftly monitored

Under the penchant of the lustrous envy

The fury of one’s mind

Taken aback by the apathetic civilization

Prejudice sown and harvested as staple

That the dwellers are obtuse and indifferent

However expecting a contrary adoration

For their pompous self gratification

Living with dignity, a handful of years

The fury of one’s mind

With a rage lacking definition

At a mere cost of lucidity in life

Their eminence gaining a greater relevance

Yet they enterprise to outclass their clones

With a vigour never to be seen again

And a breathless mutiny as a proof of evolution

The fury of one’s mind

You can be honest here

Hello... said the girl from the corner of the bus stop. She was at some distance. I could only read her lips from that far. She even waved at me to make sure I was noticing her. What is it about her? Why should I notice her anyway? The apparent answer would be that I am a boy and she is a pretty girl. That’s all. The story begins right here. It’s not very often that you see a girl in commotion of the street zombies running to and fro, especially at a bus stop, waving at you, trying to talk to you. Pretty or not pretty. However this girl seemed pretty interested. Odd events will always give you dilemmas and doubts as to what can be the possible outcomes of such events.

I moved toward the girl and presented a smile in appreciation of her picking me, out of the massive crowd to have a chat or ask for a favour or whatever the reason is. On my way of taking ten more steps so as to commence my conversation, I was wondering what to say or ask. A million things came to my mind and they fought with each other like electrons. I needed a fixation and with all the data in my head, I came up with something stupid... “I saw you waving at me...Hi”. She wore the same smile and looked on the ground. “Do need something? I mean can I help you with something?” She giggled with an intention to mock my attitude. I faked a giggle with a further intention to mock my attitude. “No, I don’t need any help” she said. Then a reasonable question came in my mind and I took a shot, “Do I know you in any case? I am really sorry I don’t seem to remember you very well then” she laughed this time. “Of course you don’t know me, neither do I know you” she said.

I started wondering the real deal here. Several things started bugging me such as “crazy chick” “whore” or “slutty chick”, those dirty little connotations, which can be use literally and metaphorically. Then again, something very unconventional bumped into my head. I started wondering that, maybe this chick is simply trying to build a conversation. Maybe she is looking for a friend. Maybe she needs someone to talk to about something. The idea was very unconventional since the time and place was quite a turn off as a conversation starter. Finally after a pregnant pause I said “Hi again... my name is Jethalal and I work in XYZ company and bla bla”.

“Nice to meet you Jethalal, my name is Parinita, but Jethalal... do you possess common sense”? Somehow I was not offended by that. I replied with a smile “may be, but I really shouldn’t judge myself should I?” “Well of course you should, how will you ever grow up if you can’t judge yourself? We all need to assess who we are in the end of the day”. She replied hastily. “Well I’m not married, guess that proves that I have common sense” I said with a little smirk on my face.

Funnily she didn’t loathe my anti-marriage attitude and to add to my humour she said “Good one”.

Meanwhile the bus came down, she had to go. She suddenly held my hand and asked me to drop her home. I said that I really have to get back home early since I have better things to do. She said “Oh screw that...you won’t regret this. Come along it’ll be fun”. I went along.

We were quite on the bus. The journey was uninteresting and boring. Lots of people were looking at us, thinking as if we were an angry married couple. Some of them were even murmuring things and giggling at us. I couldn’t see why. Then I noticed that the girl was too hot and good looking for a man like me. Why would a pretty girl go out with a weird guy called ‘Jethalal’? For some strange reason, the girl held my hand and gave me comforting smiles every time anybody laughed at me.

We reached the stop. Nobody other than us got down from the bus. I started panicking a little, since this was all too weird for me. There were many alleys one leading to the other then finally she brought me to a river side. I had never known that side of the city, until that day.

It was quite and vacant. Some slum boys were taking a dip in the river. The sun almost drowned in the horizon. The bank was covered with old buildings in British architecture. By the look and design I comprehended that they used to be factories or barracks, all now in half ruins. The birds were returning home after their day of wandering about the skies of the indifferent city. The golden light of the sun hit the river, the world seemed to be in sepia and everything looked so arcane and mystical.

“It’s a beautiful place” I said to the girl. She said,” I don't live here though, I just brought you here so that we could talk” “talk about what?” I said...

“Nothing... just tell me everything you feel about me. You can be honest here” she replied, keeping her hand softly on my chest, her hair flying all over my face under the breeze and the sweet intonation of the golden river.