I have never been sad so far my life,

I have known true love my entire life,

I had my family to make me feel safe,

I have no regrets and I was no housewife,

I was brave and carried a penknife,

I have had miracles in my life,

I have known God and I am no lowlife,

I had dreams that came true in rife,

I have had friends, who changed my life,

I have had foes, and enjoyed the strife,

I lived each day and had a nightlife,

I had much fun and led a wildlife,

I knew back then that it is so short, this life,

And that was why I decided to live, my life!

After office, I had to attend a small house warming party at Anita’s, a colleague. I took the office bus to Thirumala, and then an auto for 40 bucks to her new home, at the end of a twisted, untared road, through the darkness of rubber trees. I had fun, though I had a little trouble finding the place. Anita was glowing with happiness,  her son in her lap, her new home fragrant with agarbathi. The house is grand and costed her almost 40 lakhs. I gave her the beautiful Lord Krishna figurine I bought, as a gift.

I was hungry, and had party food, outside in the veranda. It was excellent, though I was being constantly bitten by mosquitoes. They hummed happily, coming out of their rubber tree hiding places for the feast. I hate mosquitoes. It was 7pm and while having dessert, I decided to take an auto back to the junction, from where it’s easy to take a bus home. Goodbyes were said and just as I was about to leave, the entourage from our office showed up. I had to stay back, after being offered a lift, to the city, from where I can get an auto easy. A few grueling minutes in the company of the boastful snobs might help me save my 100 bucks. I waited, to let them finish greeting and eating.

 I was getting uncomfortable and it was too late by then to leave on my own. To me, I either prefer the company of my best friends, or solitude. I do not entertain near strangers, where none of them know what to say, and everyone prays for rescue. But they seem to enjoy the party. They were friends. I hardly know them. They are from a different department, in a different building, and we say ‘hai’ when we occasionally run into each other. (Not that I have close friends in my building or my department for that matter.) I would not have bothered to come for the party, but Anita is a close acquaintance. We have lunch together.

Finally when they decided to leave, the rest of their troupe arrived, and delayed me more. They were talking all at once in brocken Malayalam, which made me smile in irritation. I was getting bored and imagined, holding a machine gun and spraying bullets at them. Thankfully, one among them (I don’t know her) suggested we leave early since her son will be waiting. It will be half an hour drive with them to the city. All the way they commented on the roads, their husbands, the traffic, the new trainees, who don’t take matter seriously, and this and that. I noticed that all along, they were complaining about one thing or the other, at the same time they sounded awfully happy and satisfied.They would start with how their husband is not helpful in kitchen, how untidy their 10 year old son is, how less (!!) their salary is and how the city is never going to get a well organized solution to the increasing traffic and so on, in a very passionate way. I felt that they all are secretly happy that they had something they can quetch about. Sadly I joined them, trying to fit in. I was just happy to get a free ride and was hoping that I will get a reasonable auto at this hour. Soon I was dropped off, and I gleefully went looking for an auto.

The only auto in the stand was waiting. It looked empty from a distance, in the dark. When I got near I saw that it had some luggage in it, which smelled of stale milk, and was waiting for an old lady. I know the thin old woman; she runs a small tea stall in Pattom Juction. The tea stall has been there as far as I can remember. I used to buy ‘employment news’ from her. She doesn’t know me. I was about to leave, when she called me and offered a ride to Naina gardens, justifying herself that she is going that way and that she has a daughter my age. I started to feel better.  She carried a few more plastic milma boxes and got into the auto. I adjusted myself in, after her. On the way I told her how I got late. She responded with care. Those strangers made me feel at ease. She said, “Its ok, we can leave you  home.” I politely refused and said that a ride to the Naina Gardens will be good enough, from where my home is at a walk able distance. Then she started having conversations with the auto driver, an elderly man. The auto driver was telling her, how he managed to get a few paint buckets for their home. He said to me “We need buckets to collect rain water for the plants, and I need to bath twice a day no matter what.”  “Yeah, it’s so hot these days”, I responded, he smiled. She said that according to the radio, we will have our monsoons in 3 days. He replied “That explains the heat”. From their coversation, I discovered that the driver is her brother, and he comes to pick her up every night, after her shop is closed, after he is done with his auto driving. They conversed with utmost easiness about their home. I felt content at the sincerity with which they talked about their small world. How his son is looking for a new plumbing job for the past few weeks. How her daughter is taking tuitions, while studying for a degree.

They were not complaining, they were more than grateful, with what they have. They were glad that they are ready for the rains, with extra buckets and plastic sheets. They were glad that they still have the health and heart to work hard for their children. Sitting in that dingy auto, close to that frail old woman, amidst the milk cans, tins, cardboard boxes, buckets and plastic packages, I listened and waited for the belated monsoons with them. In the middle of their conversation somewhere, they dropped me of, smiling, refusing the money I offered.

When I reached home, there were tears of happiness in my eyes and I did’nt know what it is that I was happy about.

Her family and friends came to the station to say good bye, she couldn’t look at her mothers face, concerned with an awkward smile that she gives when she attempts to hold back tears.  It has always surprised her how her parents were immensely supportive of her decisions. All of her friends complain about, how bugging their parents are. Every time she used to make a decision, she mentally pictures a fight with her parents; and how with bombastic dialogues she would convince them. But she never had to do that. They would give opinions and advice, but leave the decision making  to her. It was to ‘the others’ that she always had to explain and fight to win. Strangers, who wants to know, why she took BA English? Why she couldn’t do MA? Why her brother is going for BTech? Why she doesn’t have a two wheeler? Why she is unmarried? She used to lie. Nowadays she tell them the truth; with an ’I don’t give a rat’s ass’ expression. They don’t matter to her, the same as she doesn’t matter to them.

She had no wonderful childhood to boast about. Though there were happy and memorable moments. She was intricate. She always felt, she grew up fast. But at times she moans to be a child once again. She yearns to be a small girl. With invisible wings and the confidence that she can fly. To have a light heart. To see the world in all its silliness. So her childhood might not have been disastrous. But she had to grow up.

She had the most wonderful days when she was in college. It was a girl’s college. It was there that she nurtured friends for her life. From the ordinary existence at home, she found herself in the vast empire of friendship. She found people for whom she mattered and they mattered to her. She had the most fun those three years, when she was in college. There were 8 of them, best friends. They became an unruly gang. She surprised herself and found that she was capable of loving them more than anyone else. Each day was an adventure. That was the time, when she used to pray at nights for the mornings to come, so that she can go back to college and her friends. That was the time when she was silly and prayed for an endless college life. That was the time she promised her self that if she dies, her soul would wander around the college. She didn’t want to leave the place even after death. But that was then.

Those three years, she has had laughters that would last for a lifetime. Later she would blame her felicitous college life, for all her miseries. She should not have been soo happy. Now, whenever she feels happy, she awaits the sadness that might fall to make it even.

But still when she sees herself, in pain, she would go to her old campus, to re-live those three years, in a moment. It always surprised her how easy and at home she felt, while there. There she can be who she really is. She doesn’t have to put on an effort and act like someone else. Someone whom she herself would detest.

The excitement she had when she got her first job was soon subdued by the job itself. It was hectic. The people, more than the job.  She found real people – the cunning prevaricators. It shocked her how inhumanely selfish people can be. They were busy to make friends or acquaintances. She didn’t want new friends either. She already had them. If they all were here, things would’ve been different. She would’ve been different. She found herself capable of hating people so much, that she could stab them over and over again if given an opportunity and a knife. To them she was this young new girl, who knows nothing. But soon things would change.

Sadly, she is one among them now – a dodger. But she has not lost herself, completely.

 She still have her friends to remind her, who she was. They all have changed. Some got married and have babies. Some stayed longer in college and have good jobs, and are awaiting marriage. They understood her. They never questioned her. They liked her for who she is. They made it a point to be together, no matter what. They were careful to plan meetings and picnics, often, to remind themselves, what they were once. And when they come together, they can be dangerously unpredictable.

She was happy that she still had them. Good friends – was all that she earned in the 25 years of her life.

Now she is about to leave everything. She hugged her friends tight, and unable to control herself, she cried.

While the train started moving slowly, she still has her doubts, about her decision. As she waved goodbye, she hoped, this is just a phase of life, a new beginning. And for something to begin, some thing has to end.

Years later, while returning home, she would cry over what she had lost.

It was afterwards, that it occurred to me that my parents might not approve a 2^nd stud. “It’s up to you to get their approval” she said. I was sure I could get it easily and we decided to get together next Sat. Shy showed us her collection of 2^nd studs, when we told her we are also planning for the same. Her collections of tiny earrings, in beautiful designs and colored stones enthralled us. “ Is is painful?” I asked. “No” she said assuredly. I wouldn’t take her word. She just had a baby, and it was a natural delivery. Her degree of tolerance of pain might have changed after the labour. “Does it hurt?” I asked again, later. “NO di!” she shouted smiling, rocking her baby.

We prayed for the next Saturday to come early. The first thing I did as soon as I reached office on Monday is to disable the proxy settings that prevents us from mailing to the outside world and mail Gopi, informing her about the get together, telling her about our decision. She replied, exited.

 The week went slower than usual. I discovered deplorably that I miscalculated Wednesday for Thursday. It was feverish, to wait. It was the same with Divi and Gopi. Gopi, reminded that it would be better if Divi don’t get much exited. Every time we plan something big, Divi gets charged up. She hardly sleeps and later complains about headache. Last time she had fever. I was afraid it was going to be me this time.

On Friday, I mailed them our plan. The plan will be altered later on. For then, it was “I will go early to the doctors with a friend from work. I was supposed to introduce her to the doctor or else I would have bailed out. Later we would go to buy jeans for Divi and get our ears pierced.” Gopi informed she had no special plans, other than seeing us scream while getting out ears pierced. She just said that it would be easy for her if we meet early, and then accompany me to the doctor’s. We decided on that, for the timebeing. She was exited to wear her new black skirt. I will wear jeans and Divi a patiala salwar. That was settled.

Since the plan was altered more than twice, Gopi, agreed that she will call and update the final plan to Divi as soon as “she can catch a breath”.

I skipped the Friday night movie, unable to concentrate. I called Divi, who was expecting Gopi’s call. We waited for the next morning, completely aware that the day would come and pass in a wink, giving another gem stone of a day in our memories.

After all, that’s what life is worth.

Elsa sat down in her leaning chair, that she has now conveniently moved to the kitchen, near to the kitchen table, and sitting there she can see the whole back yard and the road leading from Lenin’s Bent, through the Ebony Street, to her front door. She loved these soft evenings, sitting in the chair, sipping tea, looking at the lonely road, watching sunset.

Her husband, Justin left her soon after marriage. He had problems in his business and with his life, and he left her, one morning, with out a word. He never discussed his distress with her, and she never asked. They had sort of grown apart during the wedding. She was asleep and remembers him, kissing her and saying that he is leaving early. He never came back; she didn’t flip out or went to the police or informed her distant family. She sort of figured it out long before he left, that she is going to be all alone. She was not surprised, she didn’t cry.Later she found his letter near the bedside lamp. She felt numb and some easiness.

Now for the past couple of years, her mom, Mrs. Ivanhoe is staying with her. It would have been difficult for her, all by herself; to manage everything on her own. She runs a small nursery, where she farms the most beautiful Orchids and roses. She is doing well now. Elsa is beautiful in her own way, of elusiveness. She can be in a room, for hours with nobody noticing that she is there. At the same time, she is capable of making her presence felt to a selected few. Elsa had a few boy friends, after Justin. But none of them stayed long enough. She would loose interest in them, before she even knows.

Of late she has been having this weird feeling that something’s about to happen. Something is about to change her life. Things go pretty slow and silent in Ebony Street, and this sudden tickle down her spine, was making her restless. She try to think to make out what it is that’s bothering her. To find out what should she expect? That evening, sitting there by the kitchen window, enjoying the yellow sunset, she saw a car coming crossing the Bent, through the Ebony Street. Her heart pounded a bit. Who can that be? She has not seen that car in the village so far. They never have any visitors. She waited for her doorbell to ring, and her mother to open the door. It never did. She sighed, ‘There goes another day of my life’.

Why do they can’t stop smiling at me, even if I wear a frown?

My life in no way is a slap stick play; still what do they see funny in me?

When I am being me, they think I am raw and ask me what’s wrong with me.

When I act nice, they think I’m stupid, and ask me if I am about to cry.

What are they smiling at ?

I am not dumb, may be I think too much,

I have had a tough time; I wish I could smile back.

I do not enjoy being with them but for now I’ll ignore me and laugh with them.

I am being me and I never liked them.”

Like the discovery of a treasure map,

 Hidden in some secret chamber of my grandfather’s old desk, to happen,

Then, me and my brother would gear up, like children on a picnic trip,

And we will have our own treasure hunt,

I am awaiting a miracle to happen,

Like the existence of a gremlin invisible to others, to happen,

 Then we would play pranks on people,

And would laugh and roll over until our stomachs hurt,

I am awaiting a miracle to happen,

Like the disclosure that my pet puppy can talk, to happen,

How fun it would be to talk to a dog, to know the speech of the animal folk,

See how the very thoughts itself are scintillating,

That’s how I want to feel every moment in life, exciting,

I would take nothing more, perhaps,

And I don’t see the same marvel in love or wedlock,

I am not among them;

I would take nothing less, perplexed,

I do not want to complicate things more,

I would rather search for my treasure map and set out,

 Or just wait for my tricky gremlin to fall out,

And pray for my pet puppy to blab out.

 ‘Coz I am waiting for my miracle to happen,

That some thing, round the bend to happen!!”

Do angels watch out for us?

Who has the answers? Whom should we ask?

Why are we here? What should we do? Whom should we listen to?

Are we alive? Why should we die? Is there a soul? Are there ghosts?

Who has the answers? How long has it been?

What are we afraid of? God? Demon?

What if there is no God to forgive and no devils to care?

Who are we afraid of? People? Society?

Why should we be, if there is no almighty?

What if we set our minds free, break the laws and dare to be ourselves?

Why don’t we write new rules for our lives?

Then who has the answers?

Now I do, for me!”

Especially arranged marriages.

 I surprisingly discovered that men are keen to get married after a certain age. They would fool around for sometime with their lives, and then suddenly they realize that they are mature enough to have a family, and decide to marry. They either fall in ‘true love’ or make their parents give matrimonial advertisings. They skim around to get to know girls, they wouldn’t mind to have for life. I know them from a distance. I can sense them by their looks. They have it written all over them ‘I am ready now!’ They give me a chilled spine.  For them I have my huge ‘Stay Away’ hoarding ready.

Most women are happy, being single. Women are always scared of the hectic roles that she will have to act out after marriage and if given an option, you will find out that most girls will prefer to be alone, than with a husband. But sadly, in this place, at this time, they don’t have any other option. But if given one, most of them will never go for a husband. On the other hand they’d love to be a mother.

I am of the opinion that you don’t need a husband to have a child. As long as we Indians nurture the idea of legitimacy and illegitimacy, women, will have to succumb to the society’s will of a ceremony called marriage, before childbirth. Hopefully, to a few other Indian women, sperm banks are not a far dream.  Till then our only alternative is single parent adoption. That too has complications. I am just acting to be neat here. I think I won’t need any of these because I simply don’t believe in lawful virtue imposed by the society. My formula for a child of my own would be my perfect man plus true love, subtract marriage. 

Men on the other hand, want wife, and children. They want a wife, to give them children, and to free them from the cumbersome exercise of bringing them up. Cunning! Things more or less never change for them.  But marriage changes a woman drastically. First and foremost, she gives up on herself. She stops dreaming and living for herself. All her dreams and ambitions, circle around her husband and children. And somehow she says she is happy and I know a few who actually are.  I wonder how that is possible. I was always selfish. Since no one else is there to take care of me, I decided to take good care of myself. I prioritized me before everyone, and assured that I am happy always, and never bothered who gets hurt.

 Do you expect a selfish person like me to be a wife? No way.

I would not mind being a bride. Dressed up in red, with all the jewellery and the make up. To be the centre of attention, for a day. Who wouldn’t want that?

 It’s being the wife for the rest of your life, from that day, that I dislike. Being with a man, sharing a bed, a room for the rest of my life is that I detest. I snarl away from the very thought.

Yes, there must be something wrong with me. I can see that.