Category Archives: Short Stories

The Burden Of Time

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                I had been working on that presentation for hours.I was supposed to be out there somewhere on The Burden of timethe beach enjoying my weekend but I was chained to my laptop instead.

Deadlines really suck.

 I often wonder whether god was also under the influence of deadlines while he was creating this world. I am sure he was. We all can see the mistakes he has made.

The worst of it was designing  an over smart species called Humans. As soon as our asses landed on this earth we made a fascinating invention called ‘TIME’. Then there were stone ages, BCs, ADs etc. etc. Everything was still under control until Mr. Benjamin Franklin, one fine day, came up with a million dollar concept of ‘Time is money’. And everyone knows what happens when we say the word  ‘money’  in front of any Human, our extra large tongue starts hanging out of our mouth in greed.

Great thinkers kept on developing this concept to maximize the profit until they came up with an idea of ‘Deadlines’.

 Yeah, you got it right. The sequence of mistakes that led to the development of ‘Deadline concept’ was initiated by God.  And there is no point arguing with the almighty because he is never interested in talking about his mistakes. No one does that.

My frustration was driving me nuts in order to take a break I walked out into my balcony. The view of the street was awesome. Hundreds of vehicles were lined up in every direction. Blaring sounds of horns were being generated from everywhere. Everyone seemed to be in a hurry. Poor victims of deadline.

Indifferent to all this chaos, a dog couple were busy making love on the foot walk. They probably found the sound of horns quite arousing. The pleasure of this kind of street romance can only be witnessed in developing countries. In developed countries dogs are either trained to keep personal things personal or are locked away from the human civilization. I felt envy of that dog; at least some creatures in some countries can make love without bothering about deadlines. I remembered what happened last night when I went to my girl with an application of love making.

 “Why the fuck in the world, we need to fuck every night? Don’t you remember we have to go to the fucking office tomorrow? “My desires probably pissed her off.

“We can do it quick” I made another feeble attempt. We are Men and that one thing in our pants doesn’t let us give up that easily.

But sadly nothing worked.. “We did it yesterday, remember?” She reminded me of her benevolence.

I never understand why women consider sex as a favor to men..

 Bored of the regular chaotic view of the street I turned my eyes up towards the sky. It was twilight; the sun was right above the horizon spawning a mesmerizing view of sunset…The Sun was devouring what was left of a hot day to quench its thirst before the nightfall. Natures another masterpiece painting was on display right there. I don’t think I took a single breath for many minutes. The amazing cocktail of orange and red colors spread over the horizon has healing effects. Soon all my frustrations were long gone replaced by a feeling of utter calmness. Unlike the people in the street, the sun was not at all in hurry. No deadlines to add speed to his natural defined movement. It reminded me of a quote by Bonnie Friedman

 “An unhurried sense of time is in itself a form of wealth….”

 Every beautiful creation of nature maintains an extremely slow speed. A seed does not turn out into a gigantic tree overnight; it is in harmony with the rule of development set by the nature. On the other hand, all destructions caused by nature are quick whether its an earthquake,flood or cyclone anything. The nature has a simple rule, slow for growth and quick for destruction. We humans are also a natural being and are no exception to this ordinance. Sadly, in our hunger for growth and richness we have lost track of real happiness. We are always in rush for something and this hurried sense of time robs us of our mental peace.

Adding on to our anxiety, this sense of hurry is speeding us to an early end.

 Living in the same apartment for last two years, I don’t remember when was the last time I came out in the balcony to watch sunset. We are so busy in our lives that we don’t bother to pause and appreciate the beauty that nature is offering us with. Believe it or not it is a lot more healing than we can imagine. By doing so we come in harmony with the nature and the rule of growth and healing starts working on us too.

 It is not only the rush that time burdens us with. There are two aspects of time which are always messing up with our thought process-The grief of the past and the worries of the future. If we analyze our sources of unhappiness they are always linked to these two factors. We have actually stopped living in the present. One of John Lennon’s composed songs has a beautiful line in it..

 “Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans….”

 This is the 21st century and world around has gone a hell lot faster. It is almost impossible to completely unburden ourselves from the burden of time but we can still do something to take nature on our side sometimes. Let’s disconnect ourselves from the hustle of life as often as possible. Look around for the gifts that nature has readily offered us all the time. And in these moments of disconnect, forget what happened in the past and stop planning for the future. Be in the present watching sunset or sensing the cold wind or feeling the laughter of loved ones. In these moments don’t judge, don’t grieve don’t get excited just feel the calmness of nature bringing tranquility in our heart mind and soul.

“We have to get back to the beauty of just being alive in this present moment….”

                                                                                                                                   Mary Mcdonnell





I Would Have Done It

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The FIFA world cup has always been celebrated as some festival round the globe. During these world cup aeons, everyone you I would have done itmeet in the street appears to be implanted with an extra dose of excitement.

“How are you doing today Mr. Samuel?” I asked an acquaintance the other day.

“Great! Germany defeated South Korea in the semi final. Trust me final is going to be awesome.” He replied.

 Isn’t it great? You don’t have to waste time watching news channels to get the updates. Ask anything to anybody on the street and you will find out world cup updates appended to the original answer.


My 14 year old Son Dylan has also joined this club and was exceptionally enthusiastic while he watched the final match between Germany and Brazil on the TV. I have never seen him this excited about anything before. The world cup of 2002 has somehow managed to aggrandize his interest in football.


“Have you done your homework Dylan?”

“No Mom. See Ronaldo is heading for his second goal.” Like I said, no matter what is the question you always get the updates.


The Second goal from Ronaldo filled the crowd that gathered at the International stadium of Yokohama, with an unimaginable exuberance. Enormous applaud in response appeared loud enough to be heard from miles away.

 Ronaldo’s scores led Brazil into victory. When the Brazilian team captain Cafu held the golden cup high up in the air, some 2.7 million paper cranes flew down from the sky. Dylan was running all over in the house with his arms wide spread in imitation of some flying bird. When tired with his crusade of happiness display he finally comes to me in the kitchen and said


“Mother, I want to play football. I want to play it like Ronaldo.”

This was not the first time when he was sharing his childish dreams with me.

“But last month you wanted to be a doctor like Miss Lauane?”

“I was wrong; I want to be a football player. I am sure this time.” He replied in irritation and went out of the kitchen.

Kids don’t like it when you question their decisions. They Just can’t accept that their parents can be smarter than them.

The next day when he got back from school, he was carrying a few posters of Ronaldo with him. Next hour of his day was completely utilized in lodging those posters in the best possible places on the walls of his room.

Whenever I visited his room after that, I found him staring at those posters. This really got me concerned for his developing sexual orientation.


Dylan’s inclination towards football kept on increasing with time. He brought a new football for himself the other month.


“From where did you get the money?” I asked

“I saved it from my pocket money” he replied while his nose went up in pride.


I am a single mother with income just enough to pay the monthly bills. This was really surprising for me that Dylan sacrificed his daily ice cream for his newly developed passion. On top of it he decided not to bother his overburdened mother and took matters into his own hands.

I too felt proud of him.

Dylan was kind of loner. Initially he started playing alone in our courtyard but soon I had to force him out because of increasing complaints of broken windows from the neighbors.

A couple of weeks later I heard that he has been playing football with a couple of his brand-new friends in a barren land outside the city. The neighborhood was not safe and I got a little skeptical of his new friends.

He came back very late one evening.

“What are you up to Dylan. What have you been doing with those slum boys?” I asked in anger pulling his hand forcefully towards me.

“I have been playing football mom, what’s wrong in that.” He replied in agitation

“They are not good company son; you should immediately stop hanging out with them.” I ordered him.

“Why don’t you enroll me in to some football training school then? I know you can’t do that with your pathetic earning. So Just let me do it my way.” he replied in anger and rushed towards his room.

“What is so important with this football thing? Why can’t you just focus on your studies?” I shouted. Humiliation by own son has pinched me hard.

“I want to play for Brazil one day ” He replied in a voice equally high in pitch and smashed the door of his room from inside.

The path to his dream was being hurdled because of my incapability. I felt guilty of not being a good mother, the only thing which I always wanted to do right.

 Next day, I visited all the training schools in the town but the fees were too high for me to bear. I felt helpless. I decided to get an additional job. Till I don’t have the money, I had no choice but to let Dylan find his own ways.


Weeks passed, I didn’t get any additional jobs but I started working extra hours so that I could save for his training school fee. In a few months I would have easily made it but life had different plans for us.

One evening Dylan got into a fight with those Slum boys and the old friends congregated to teach odd man out a lesson. They broke one of his legs and along with that few deep injuries were visible on different parts of his body. I lodged a police complaint but nothing happened. Those boys somehow got invisible as if they never existed.

My son remained unconscious for next two days. I kept praying to god for his recovery.


“They shouldn’t have broken my leg. You never do that to a football player.” This was the first sentence which came out of his mouth as soon as he regained his senses.


 “Don’t worry, it will get better.” I hugged him


Hospital bills further burdened me with huge debts. Enrolling him for football training did not appear possible for me in the near future.


His left leg remained plastered for around a month .During his ‘plastered leg’ period he remained confined to his room and that too staring at the poster of his role model most of the times. Once the plaster was removed he became restless. Doctor has restricted him from giving any kind of exertion on that leg for another six months. His itch for playing football was driving him nuts. Soon he found out a way to get rid of his tingling. Dylan started visiting a famous football club after school. He was not allowed in there but he used to watch those highly skilled players getting trained from outside the ground.


His too much talks about football at the school might have attracted like minded students. By the end of fourth month there were dozens of students from his school who started to give him company during his visit to the football club.


“Mom, I need some money.” Dylan asked as soon as I opened the door for him.

“What for?” I asked in bewilderment.

“We are planning to turn that barren land outside our town into a playground.” He replied with excitement.

“Who are ‘We’ here?”  I got scared with the reminder of what happened to him on that ground.

“Me and a few of my friends from the school.” hinted of my fear he tried assuring me.

“You can’t do that honey, that is government property” I tried to usher him to practicality.

“So what? We are not going for forceful possession of that property. We are just turning it into something useful and in return we will use it for a couple of hours every day.”

I could have debated more but seeing him this happy was convincing enough for me to let practicality go to hell.


The boys started their project playground from the very next day. They did most of the work themselves but whenever required they also hired resources using collected money.

Their efforts were not going unnoticed as soon many people from proximity started helping them in all possible ways. In no time their project playground became mission for that whole underdeveloped locality of the town. The playground was ready in one month and in the process my 15 year old son has earned a lot of popularity for his name.


That playground became second home for that team of 16 boys including Dylan. They still use to visit outside of football clubs to learn the training methods and implemented those tricks by themselves in their own created playground. When poverty limited them from hiring a coach they replied on its face by saying “we don’t need one, we can self train ourselves”.


Time was with wings and one year passed in no time. During last one year, inspired by Dylan and team, many such teams were formed in different localities of the town. That playground became their place to compete. I got a chance to watch Dylan play couple of times and I must say he has trained himself quite well.


All these teams were small unorganized groups of underprivileged kids.Being and playing there was not leading Dylan towards his dream. He wanted to get in to the system


“I want to create a football team for my School mother” He revealed his future plans to me one evening.

“But your school is a low budget school Dylan; they only focus on academics’. I don’t think they are up for supporting any sports team for the school” I worded my worries.

“I know mother but this is possible. Our team has become quite popular in the school. I think we can convince the management. I am giving the school an opportunity to get popular with us, they better not refute it” He replied with a smile and then winked.


Dylan was right the popularity of his team did the trick for them. The Dylan’s school not only opened a sports division but also registered themselves for the inter-School football tournament.

They started training hard for it.


In the qualifying match itself, Dylan scored three goals and led his team to victory. It was complete one man show. The tournament continued for one month and Dylan and his team won 6 out of 7 matches. Although defeated in the finals Dylan has fulfilled his promise of creating name not only for himself but for his school as well.

Based on his performance he got scholarship offers from some very good colleges of  Sao Paulo and Rio de Janeiro. Dylan was heading for bigger platforms.


It was his last match for the school. He was well ahead of his nearest opponent. Entire crowd stood up in excitement. The goal was inevitable.


It felt really good when I heard the crowd cheering aloud my son’s name. Just before the final shot towards the goal, something happened. Dylan left the ball and sat down in the field with his both hands pushing against his forehead and a few seconds later he lost his senses.


“Dylan has a tumor in his brain. He does not have much time left. It is hardly a matter of two three months.” Doctors declared after examining him.

I was in real shock.

“But doctor, He has never informed me of any pain or something” I was barely able to speak.

“He might have been ignoring it mam. It’s too late now. I am really sorry.”  I sat there on the floor trying hard to accept the devastating news.


It was two and half months later. We were at the hospital. Dylan was all pinned up with different medical instrument throughout his body. I was sitting right beside him watching him sleep.

He opens up his eyes and looking directly into my eyes spoke out in a very weak voice ” I would have done it mother.”

I turned my face away from him to hide my tears and replied “I know son, you definitely have” . Once my tears were under control I turned towards him


His eyes were wide open. He was gone. My son was dead.



I was in his room, staring at his belongings in desire to feel his virtual closeness. I started searching for anything that could make me feel his presence.  There was a diary in his drawer. As I turned the first page, his intentions were boldly written over there in his own handwriting


                                            “Winners never quit and quitters never win”   .


There is only one basic mantra behind any great success


                                                “Find out your passion and stick to it no matter what…”







A Fruitful Anger

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His sword glittered in the sunlight when he stood there, fearless, with his 26 warriors standing against Anger final the enemy force of above 500.


The gallant solders of Keshari tribe believed in their leader, the great Aarya. A brave fighter and a strategic leader. Keshari was a small tribe of around 200 people migrated in to Himalayas from Gandhara.

Under the leadership of Aarya, the tribe not only survived the invasions of ruthless neighbor tribes but also established themselves as a flourishing community. They fought three battles since their arrivals and the victories bannered Kesharis as “the unconquerable”.

The Mathnag tribes abandoned their lands in Himalayas after being defeated twice by Kesharis.

The Bhjangas were however the biggest tribe in those lands and were not ready to give up even after their defeat in the first battles with Kesharis. Neither were they living confined in to their own lands. Their leader Varana was a ruthless and ambitious man. Since their last defeat in the battle with Kesharis, Bhajangas has attacked and conquered many small tribes and grew in strength significantly.

Confident in their huge strength, Varana marched towards the Kesharis land to seek the long desired revenge. The news of the approaching enemy reached the ears of Araya soon enough.


“He has an army of more than five hundred. We are badly outnumbered this time.”  Bhairav, the second man to Araya, speaks out his worries.

“What do you suggest Bhairav” Araya asked advise from his best friend.

“We should first secure females, children and aged people and then let’s go and give them a warm welcome” Araya found himself smiling at the audacity of his commander in chief.


In few hours all the natives of Kesharis were secured in to different caves scattered around in the mountain. Twenty six of the best men were selected for the battle and rest were to remain guarding the tribe and in worst case take them to some safe place.


Soon the land of Kesharis was vacated except for 26 warriors and the family of Araya. This included his wife Vilochana and son shiva. Vilochana has refused to hide and decided to eye witness the battle from a high ground.


“Promise me father that you will win and come back to us soon” nine year old Shiva spoke out in his utterly innocent voice.


Araya sat down on his knees and hugged his son.


“I can’t promise this son but I promise one thing that your father will be remembered for many centuries to come” Aryan whispered into ears of his Son. Then he stood up and turned towards his warriors and roared


“Live or die, win or defeat .Doesn’t matter. But we promise in the name of our ancestors that this land will not forget the name of the tigers of Kesharis for several centuries to come”


The roaring of Araya was replicated in the clamors of his 26 warriors. These commotions were easily overheard by the natives of Kesharis hidden in the caves and it tickled their hearts with a feeling of proud.


Araya along with his warriors marched towards the approaching army while Vilochana along with his son started climbing the mountain to gain high ground.


Vilochana could see handful of his army standing against the huge force of Bhjangas on the bank of river Mandakni.


Araya and his warriors were bare above their waist but wore Lion skin below their waistline to the knees. They were trained to fight with swords in both hands.


“Attack” Vilochana heard a faded sound of Araya from miles away and then saw his men storming in to the ocean of enemy.


It was a combat of one against twenty but swords in the skilled hands of Keshari warriors were making victory difficult for the Bhajanga fighters.


Araya’s swords were replicating the speed of light. One moment it was piercing through chest of one and in the next cutting the head of another. When finished with the bunch of engaged Bhajangas, he circled his head to a get an idea of the situation. Only few of his men were still standing rest were all down but a smile appeared on his face when he realized that they have slaughtered more than half of the enemy.

He gathered rest of his strength and rushed towards Varana to engage him.


Vilochana could see only few half naked men standing in the battle field. Rest of all her men was dead.

“Can you see that brave man fighting with so many Bhajangas alone?” She asked her son pointing in the direction of the battle field.

“Yes mother” Shiva replied in bewilderment.

“He is your father” 

“How could you recognize him from such distance” The boy asked innocently.

“I just Can” she replied as tears rolled down her chick but the proud heart flashed a little smile on her face.


Araya was completely surrounded by Bhajangas. He has been fighting for hours now and his badly injured body was no more capable in matching his mental strength. He blinked for once to avoid a drop of blood from getting in to his eyes. This moment of deviation was long enough, dozens of swords pierced through different parts of his body. HIs last growl drilled into the hills of Keshari like a thunder.

Vilochana covered the eyes of her son and exhaled the pain in loud screams

The greatest son of Keshari was butchered on his own land.


“I promise that Kesharis will rise again and this time it will be the biggest empire world has ever known” Vilochana assured Araya before setting his ravaged body in to fire. Her eyes have turned red holding extreme anger and pain.


Next day tribe started their journey towards south in their search for a new home, a place far and far away. They kept walking for weeks and weeks till the peaks of Himalaya’s vanished from their sight.

Vast land spread across the boundary of Nagarjuna forest became their new home.

Vilochana was the new leader. She was clever, brave and most importantly she was in rage. Anger is a source of huge energy. She never allowed that energy to fade away.


Setting up a colony near the forest was a dangerous thing to do but Vilochana took the decision based on the fact that forest is always a vast source of resources.

Trees were cut to create boundaries that could keep wild animals away. Houses and guarding posts were constructed. In no time the barren land besides Nagarjuna turned in to a secured colony.

Teams were prepared and sent in search for smaller nomadic tribes who can easily be incorporated in to Keshari. Over the years Keshari kept on growing its strength.


All these times Vilochana never rested in peace. It was her anger that was fueling her clout. All she wanted was to grow Keshari tribe in to big empire.

Under the influence of her mother, Shiva was growing in to a great warrior and leader. He with his handful of men aided many small tribes against ruthless attacks and integrated all them into Keshari. Soon the stories of his bravery started getting popular in the far far lands.


Twenty years passed in no time. Finally it was time for Shiva to take leadership responsibility of the empire. The Ceremony was being conducted in a huge ground. All natives of Keshari were assembled there to see their beloved Shiva.


“Mother, we are ready. This is the time; we should attack and burn those Bhjangas with our 20 years of rage.” Shiva speaks to his mother during the celebration.

Vilochana turned towards his son to get a glance of his face. He resembled his father. After few minutes of stare she took his hand in to hers.


“Come with me” she requests shiva by pulling him to walk with her.

Shiva starts following her mother. She took her up of a nearby hill.


While they sat on the peak of the hill, Vilochana spoke to his Son.

“Do you remember the view from that mountain of the day when your father died?”

“Yes mother”.

“What did you saw that day” asked Vilochana

“I saw my father and his warriors being ravaged by Bhjangas” he replied while his eyes got red in anger with the remembrance of the past.

“Now sitting at this hill, look down at our tribe. What do you see now?” She asked pointing down towards the colony

“I see a well established empire. Thousands of people are living happily inside those secured walls” Shiva replied in bewilderment.

“Twenty years back what you saw from that mountain brought me rage. But now what you see from the peak of this hill is the outcome of that rage. I used all my anger in building this empire.

I am not angry anymore.” She replied with a smile.


“Anger is a powerful feeling.  It can be used for both construction and destruction.

Avoiding it is quite difficult but how to use it, is always a choice we have”



The Little Contribution

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She was too old, may be in her 90s or so. Upper half of her body was naturally bent and stopped, Making a little differencerendering it inoperative in its normal back and forth movement. It appeared as if some invisible weights have been placed permanently upon them. Wrinkles on her face resembled some crushed paper left unattended for long.  From last few weeks I have been regularly seeing her pass the road adjoining my house. She used to go somewhere every morning and returned back in about an hour and half. A long stick lodged in her weak hand was preventing her body from falling under the influence of its own weight.


I was new in town and have been seeing her bypass since the second day of my stay. Gradually I got curious to this daily ritual of her. One fine day my curiosity got the best of me and I decided to follow her.

It was 6:30 in the morning when I saw her appear on the adjoining road. I wore my shoes and with the day’s newspaper still in my hand I started following her. She appeared intending to walk as fast as possible but her weak legs were incompetent in aiding her beyond the turtle speed. It took her almost half an hour to walk a distance of mere 300 meters. Walking such small distance was nothing for me but it must have been hell lot tiring for a person of her age.


She took halt at a bench outside of a small park. Even being in the neighborhood I have never been to this place in my last few weeks of stay in the locality. It was kind of a dreggy place cluttered with trash barrels implanted randomly all over the place. I guessed it to be the place where the garbage from proximity is being dumped.

The old lady sat comfortably on the bench lodging her belongings beside her. To my surprise, few street dogs came running towards her and started circling the bench.

 She took out some packets of food from her pack and started throwing it towards the dogs. Soon all the dogs got busy with the served meal. The lady then covered her hand with gloves and started cleaning their bodies with help of a dog comb, one at a time. Dogs were enjoying her company. They never left her alone in her total half an hour of stay.


“Good morning Mam” I called for her when she was heading back.

Unable to turn her neck she about-faced to manage a sight of my face.

“You are talking to me Son?” She inquired in her exceedingly weak voice.

“Yes mam, If you don’t mind I have a question for you” I requested

“Why not, go ahead” she responded in bewilderment.

“I live in the neighborhood and have seen you walking back and forth every morning. This got me curious and I followed you today.” I paused to analyze her reaction.

“No problem son. Just tell me what you want to know” She comforted me with a motherly tone of voice.

“I just saw you feeding and cleaning those street dogs. I just wanted to know why?”

She gazed at the newspaper which I was holding in my hand and replied.

“You read newspaper Kid”

“Yes I do”

“Then you must be reading news of some rich people donating in to orphanage or old age homes or something like that, quite often? She asked.

“Not very often but yes I do get to see such news sometimes.” I replied

“I am doing the same thing Son” The old lady started walking again after finishing her statement.

“I don’t understand. Those millionaires make heavy donation that can make lots of difference. Sorry to say but I don’t see your contribution of much use and all the pain you take in walking this long is unnecessary.” I questioned her again.

“Only if those dogs could speak, they would have told you what difference I make in their respective worlds. It is not the money but the intention that is important.” She replied

“What is there for you in this?” I was still confused.

“I feel Satisfied. When I go for sleep in the night it feels good that today I made a difference in lives of few creatures with my little contribution. I brought happiness in their lives.

Try it for yourself sometime son, these little contribution generates a wonderful feeling inside you. A feeling that can heal even the greatest wounds of your heart and mind that are difficult to cure otherwise. Try spreading happiness within your abilities and it will eventually return to you multiplied”


The old lady kept moving and soon vanished in the clump of buildings. I stood there alone thinking “What little contribution do I make in spreading happiness in the world?”


                             “Some pursue happiness – others create it.”

The Slaves of Conditioning

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1861, Richmond, Virginia. I was on my way to the main street market when a recently lodged poster caught my attention


                         Slaves of conditioning1      


I have known Dr. Thomas for my entire life. We both were born in similar mediocre type families and our parents used to be neighbors .That is all in past, now he owns of a large agricultural farm in west Virginia and has more than hundred slaves working for him. I am still a shop owner running my ancestral business. I don’t keep slaves because of two reasons. First I don’t like the concept on moral grounds and secondly making slave out of a human being is not my cup of cake.

Purchasing a Negro and creating a slave out of him are two entirely different things. Any average earning man, with a couple of hundred bucks in his pocket, can bid in street side auctions to get hold of a Negro. Purchasing a human being does not practically make you his owner. His normal human tendency to resist is required to be undermined brutally so that a mere thought of disobeying can scare the shit out of him. This is a time taking procedure and is based on four human emotions. This includes fear, Loyalty, inferiority and hate. When making a slave the first thing you do is to build in fear. Second, you teach the slave to have loyalty or love only to his master. Thirdly, you teach them to feel inferior by always showing the master in a position of authority. Lastly, you brainwash them to loath anything connected to their own culture and history.


I have been to Thomas’s farm couple of times and seen how they break the Negros into a different mental life. Negar men are stripped naked and bitten to almost death in front of Negar women. This destroys the Male image of the Negars in front of their fellow women and scared to hell mother transfer same mentality to their offspring. Slave women are also stripped of cloths and are abused in front of male negars. This kills the protective male image of the negars, not only in his own eyes but in the eyes of fellow women too. There are many several tricks which are being used to generate fear in the slaves. Negars get into the mentality that they are inferior beings and can only be protected if he remains loyal to whites.


On my way back home I heard some noise from back of my wagon. I pulled the horses to halt and jumped out of the wagon with a gun in my hand.

Getting to the rare side, I pointed the barrel towards the wagon and shouted in warning.

“Come out or I will shoot” 

“Don’t shoot, please don’t.” A voice terribly in pain responded

I uncovered the shade of the wagon partially with the barrel of the gun. A black man wrapped in blood drenched cloths was hiding at the rare corner of the vehicle.

“Who are you? What are you doing in my wagon?”

 I enquired. His trembling body and wide open eyes were clearly exhibiting his fear. I wondered what he is more scared of, the gun or the white color of my skin.

“Please help” This was all he could speak. The mark on his forearm bears affirmation of him being a slave of Dr. Thomas. Probably, the one who escaped his brutal tyranny.

Returning him to Thomas was easy 100 bucks for me but I felt pity on the poor soul and decided otherwise.

“Stay Put boy, I will get you some medical help.”

I covered the wagon completely making the inside view impossible for all curious eyes which I might encounter in my remaining journey.


His back was covered with marks of horsewhip .It could have been easily confused for his real skin texture. I washed him clean and applied herbs on his wounds. He remained almost unconscious for next two days. However, I somehow managed to push some food through his throat occasionally.

On the third day he came back to his senses.


“How are you feeling today boy?” I asked seeing him awake

“I am much better sir. Thank you for all your help” He was still scared and never dared to make eye contact.

“So what is your story? I know for sure that you are a slave of Mr. Thomas and have escaped the farm 4 days ago.” Hearing this made his body tremble again.

“Don’t worry, you are safe here. Just tell me your story.” I tried comforting him with calm voice.


“My real name is Abias. I was 19 when me and my father were seized by professed kidnappers from my village in Africa, while we were planting yams, and sold for slaves. After passing through several hands and I ended up at Mr. Thomas farm. I have not heard of my father since our Ship landed on the coast of America.” He started with shuddering voice


I felt sympathy for the poor boy.


“On my very first day at farm, Mr. Thomas belts me with horsewhip.”

“What wrong have you done?” I asked.

“Nothing wrong, he just beat me for no reason and he kept on doing it till I collapsed.” He replied with a flat tone of voice as if it was some normal routine of his life.

“I have been there for 5 years and every day was like walking through hell. I was afraid to run, I hated my life and I have nothing else to hold on to except the farm.” His replied, this time looking in to my eyes.


“So why did you leave now” I inquired again.


“I got tired of being afraid all the time. I realized that my only attachment, the farm, is not doing any good to me except earning miserable food.” His voice got firm and cold.

“Still deciding to act against your master was not a wise thing to do. This can get you killed.” I tried to make him understand his mistake.

“I am also a Human being and I am not inferior to any other of the same species. I have hated my life enough for various reasons but sitting and crying over things won’t change anything. I want to live a beautiful life as every other human being and for that reconstruction; I will have to act beyond my fears. This is the reason why ran.”  Confidence in his voice was broadening with every subsequent sentence.


He was right. Better dead than living on condition framed or manipulated by others. If I would have gathered this courage to overcome my fears, couple of years back, I must have been doing better than Dr. Thomas now.


Most of us are slaves of our own conditioning. As slaves are conditioned by their masters similarly life experiences condition every free man. The tools of conditioning remain the same-Fear, Love, inferiority and hate.


A potential Entrepreneur keeps working as an office clerk for his entire life because he was afraid of failure. There might be many factors that might have conditioned those fears in to him. Might be, his earlier attempts failed or family and friends might have demoralized him with their judgmental views. The reasons for enslavement doesn’t change the fact that he didn’t lived the life he desired.. Only if he would not have been enslaved by those fears, he must have done something better with his life. To break these fears we need to have courage to act beyond them as this slave has done.




Loyalty and Love is another important factor that restrains us from letting things go. Sometime life gets stuck just because we are conditioned by loyalty and love. We keep holding to something even though it is not doing any good to our lives. It is similar to as if your house is on fire and you are not ready to leave it because you love it. It is eventually going to burn you to ashes. Abias here broke his love and attachments for the farm to live a better life.


Then come the feeling of inferiority. This makes us vulnerable to those who are comparatively confident. Enslaved by inferiority we generally get manipulated by others and become pawn in their hands. Eventually we end up aiding others in fulfilling their dreams instead of living our own desired life. I remember how Thomas used to manipulate me to do his silly works in our childhood. I used to give up my plans to work on his.


Similar to Love sometimes we don’t let go our feeling of hatred. We sought to take revenge from someone who did something bad to us. Sometimes we even hate our own life for various reasons. In first case, we are more focused on destroying someone else life than constructing our own while in the later case we keep crying over things instead of really acting. Enslaved by hatred we are always on the path of downfall. It is wise of Abias that he is neither planning to take revenge from Thomas nor hating his present pathetic life. Rather he is planning to leave everything behind focusing only on the dream of living a better life ahead.


“What are you thinking sir” Abias voice pulled me back from my land of wondering thoughts.

“Nothing. You are a brave man Abias” I complemented him with a pat on his back.

“But I can’t allow you to stay here for long. It is against the law and I can be charged for this” I told him about my compulsion.

“No worries sir, I will be gone soon” He replied


Few days later Abias left and during his way out he promised me that he will send me a letter once his dreams are accomplished.


Time was with wings and six years passed in no time. Even after eye witnessing the daring and inspirational act by Abias, I never managed to gather enough courage to act towards my dreams and remained to exist as a mediocre shopkeeper. It was some afternoon of 1867 when postman delivered me a letter.




There was a picture of Abias and his family along with the letter. He was smiling genuinely in the photograph. A smile that was well earned…………..


“Fear and inferiority are the passion of slaves. Free men are with mind to think and courage to act”

Nurturing the Jackfruit

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Sound of the thunder drummed in to my ears hard enough to bring me back from the sleep. It wasNurturing the jackfruit3 middle of the night and rain at this time of the year was quite unexpected. Cacophony of the rain hitting leaves was shoving my imagination towards the presence of some monstrosity in the vicinity. The terrified mind axiomatically led my arms to search for Anish to hold on .

But his side of the bed was vacant. The reminder of the reality brought in the pain that immediately overpowered all senses of horror. Anish was gone, he is dead. That car accident last week took him away from me forever.


The coldness in the weather outside was magnifying the need of his absent warmth. The sleep never touched my eyes after that. Probably it too has abandoned me for the night and god knows for how many million more nights to come. For rest of the night I remained eyewitness to every passing second on the wall clock. Like the pendulum of the clock my thoughts kept hoping between beautiful memories of past and cruel realization of the present.


Singing of the birds drew my awareness to the fading darkness in the world outside. I gathered my tired strength to pull myself up and somehow managed my unwillingly soul to get to the window.

The morning was as beautiful as ever exception being the view to eye was not reaching to the heart today.

The Jackfruit tree in the courtyard has gave birth to its first bunch of flower of the season. Uniquely these flowers have popped out in one thinner stem of the tree. Anish hated Jackfruit.


In few weeks all the lives around moved on to their regular but not me. I was stuck in the past like forever. I started living most of the time alone. Casual friends stopped checking after few attempts and closed ones tried for little longer. Every morning I stood by the window to feel the beauty of the rising sun but all I could see was the attached memories. The Jackfruit flowers have turned in to small fruit.


Time passed and the Jackfruit kept on getting bigger. The attached stem of the tree has bent considerably because of its weight.


My mother hasn’t given up on me yet. She kept on making calls trying to make me understand that I need to let things go. After several unsuccessful attempts she finally decided to pay me a visit.

It was end of the summer and almost six month had passed since Anish was gone. I and my mother were sitting in my courtyard.


“I can’t forget him mom, his memories are in everything around” I tried explaining the pain.

“I understand your pain Anjali, I too lost your father early. But child, If I would have been still holding on to it I won’t have been able to grow you up this well.” she tried making me understand with a motherly hug

“How is it possible?” I asked with tears rolling down from my eyes.


A huge sound of something falling and hitting the ground drew our attention. The jackfruit has broken down a part the containing stem out of the tree.


Mother kept staring at that fall location for few minutes. She then spoke with extremely calm voice.


“Stop nurturing the Jackfruit Anjali” 


“What?” I asked trying to make sense of what she just said.


“Your pain is like that Jackfruit and your life is the attached stem. By repeatedly thinking about how your life would have been, if Anish was still alive, you are nurturing your pain. You are making it bigger and heavier every passing day” She cleared her point then gazed in to my eyes and continued.

“Rather you should nurture the stem, your life, by imagining how he would have wanted you to live your life. And turn those imaginations in to reality.”


“He wanted to open a Kids school for me. He knew that I love children. “I realized I was smiling.


My mother separated the jackfruit from the stem and brought it to me.


“It is really heavy” she giggled.


I took the fruit and threw it out of the boundary..


“I don’t need it, Anish hated Jackfruit” I replied with a smile which immediately replicated itself on my mother’s face.



“One problem with gazing too frequently into the past is that we may turn around to find the future has run out on us.”    -Michael Cibenko


                         “Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened.” :-)


The Negativity Chain

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It is highly annoying when we get stuck in some traffic Jam for longer than expected.Negativity chain

I experienced one such frustrating situation this morning. I was stuck in midtown Manhattan traffic for almost 20 minutes.

“No wonder why average drivers in New york city is delayed by 44 hours yearly because of these traffic congestion” I shouted with frustration.

“Really? Wow, it’s amazing, isn’t it? By the way, from where in hell you get this kind of data?” Paul asked with a sarcastic smile glued to his witty face.

“Urban mobility report 2010” I replied completely ignoring his wit.

“Great, so how does this thing work? We have to report our 20 minutes delay to them or they themselves will contact us.” Jack was getting wittier.

“You asshole, I am pissed off with these mother F__rs and you son of a bitch is making fun….” I ushered him in to my rich thesaurus of slangs.

“Calm down man, I just googled, this ‘hourly delay thing’. It has reduced by several hours this year. Thank God we are not in 2010” He interrupted almost laughingly.

“Bastard, these C____k suckers are driving me nuts and you are still….”I continued

Slangs are wonderful anger killer.

But to my surprise Paul’s emotion appeared immune to all extant traffic calamities around.

Neither fluent flow of slangs was making any impact on his happy smiley face.

 Rather, he played his favorite song in the stereo and cloned the car seat in to some luxury lounger.

Within few minutes I could hear his snoring competing against the earsplitting horns of vehicle in the vicinity. 

Finally the traffic got cleared and we reached office delayed by almost an hour.

Emotions somewhat follow “Newton’s First Law of Motion”

“An emotion in existence remains in existence, unless acted upon by another emotion with equivalent or greater intensity”.


My frustration accompanied me in to my office.

The receptionist, Ana, greeted me with a beautiful smile but I upset her with some disgusting comment on her dressing sense. I have no Idea why I did that.

Few minutes later I overheard Ana fighting with his boyfriend over phone. I assumed it was me who incepted her negative emotion in motion.

Next unlucky person whose path crossed with mine was my colleague, Jack


“Where have you been?” Jack asked as he and his smile entered my cabin.


When your mood is off the track you get irritated with almost everything without fair reasons.


I almost pushed him towards the window to give him the best possible view of the traffic.

“See that herd of rapidly increasing automobiles in the city roads? I picnic there every day before coming to office.” I replied in the worst possible tone of voice.

Jack drifted my hand from his back and moved out of my cabin in rage. His smile has vanished.

On his way out he bumped in to the hurried office clerk and rewarded him with some motherly slang.

The upset face of the clerk after that was clear display of the fact that he loves his mother very much.


The day was not getting any better and I wanted it to be over ASAP

In the following hours at work I had serious argument with my Boss. This could have been surely avoided if I would have been in to my calmer avtar.

It was still an hour to go when Ana called me on my intercom.

Ana:  Hello Boss

Me:   Yes Ana

Ana:  My boyfriend, sandy, met with an accident and has been admitted in to hospital. I need to leave now.

Me:   I am so sorry. How did this happen?

Ana:  I had a fight with him in the morning. He left the house angrily and his bike got hit by a Car

        It’s my entire fault, if I would not have fought with him, he would have been ok. I feel really guilty.


And she starts crying.


Me: Ana stop crying. It’s not your fault. You rush to him now. Everything will be fine.

Ana: Thank you Boss.  She hanged the phone


Feeling of guilt over powered my previous feeling of frustration.

I was the one who spoiled Ana’s mood and which further got transferred to sandy and from there may be to car driver and so on..

Oh God! I, kind of incepted a chain reaction of unhappiness Just because I could not overcome my frustration of traffic Jam.


My interaction with Jack and my Boss was also weird enough to trigger their frustration. In short, multiple such chain of negativity has been initiated by me since this morning. And God knows how many lives might have been affected due to this today.


My Last hour in the office was guilt oriented. All these feelings of frustration, anger and guilt has meshed enough with my head today.

By the end of the day I felt extremely tired and exhausted

It’s true, negativity drains you out.


We were on our way back home; Paul still appeared as fresh and happy as he was in the morning.


“What happen? You look sick” Paul asked


I told him the whole story.

Paul remained thoughtful for few seconds and then he spoke


“All negative emotions whether it is anger, stress or frustration are rooted to a single self generated cause “expectations”.

“What do you mean?” I asked with puzzled expression. This kind of statement was never expected from a person like Paul.

“Let’s analyze your day since morning. You got pissed off in the morning because you have expected traffic to be less congested. Ana got upset because she has expected better response from you in return of her smile. Sandy might have expected some romance over phone. All of you got upset because your expectations were not met.”

He was absolutely right. All stress and frustration comes from unmet expectations.

“But expectation is a normal human tendency. How can anybody live without expecting anything from the world around?” I kept my point.

“I am not asking you to stop expecting. I just want you to do a favor to yourself “Paul replied turning his face towards me.

“What could that be?” I questioned curiously.

“Do yourself a favor of being mentally ready that your expectation might not be met.”

This way when your expectations are met you will feel happy about it.

But when they are not, it would not make any difference as you were already prepared for this.

No unhappiness will ever be initiated by you and all negativity chain triggered somewhere else will end up after reaching you.” He replied.

“Can you explain with some practical example?” I wanted clearer picture of his theory.

Example is right here brother. Your morning experience with traffic Jam has made you used to it.

   We are again stuck in traffic Jam since last 30 minutes and you haven’t referred to urban mobility report yet.” 

We laughed…


“Don’t wait for practical incidents to teach you that your respective expectation cannot be met all the time. Rather be mentally ready that things might not turn out as expected”    —Upsohigh

The Praying and the beggars

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My wife believes in God and that’s the reason why I often get chance to visit temples to offer my prayers to the almighty. I being a human being, my feelings attached with the prayers intensify when I am in some kind of pain or if I desperately desire something. Else it’s just a formal Hello. It happThe Praying and the beggarsens with most of us I guess.

I am a kind of “Happy forever type” so for most of the time my visit to temple implies short conversation with god like-

“Hi god, How are you today? I am good. Thanks for the rain last night. It was awesome”

But my wife always has listed agendas which are to be brought to discussion with the lord. In short she spends hell lot of time interacting with the gods. So once my small chit chat with god is over I get ample time to look around, while my better half remains busy debating over our life’s problem with the almighty.

In my first few months of almost every day visit to the temple I realized that every temple has a fixed group of devotee apart from few exceptional ones. These exceptional are variable and appear only and only if life has kicked hard on their ass or else they need god to manipulate some results before it gets public.

Apart from these two groups of devotee there are Pujaris, who are considered closer to the god than normal breed of people and usually act as mediator between the two. In bigger temples, each god has devoted Pujari. These devoted pujaris are kind of specialist in specific gods. They can help you with methods and mantras that are mandatory to please their categorical gods. Not to be surprised, this can cost you a fortune. However, I prefer praying on my own.

Then there is the most neglected group of people ‘the beggars’. They generally sit on temple stairs with each pieces of their asset circled around them. These are the belongings which they somehow managed to gather from the garbage around. There are many specific characteristics of these people which often lead you to treat them as untouchables. These peculiar attributes include nose chocking foul smell, age old untidy rags wrapped around them etc. These rags, if lucky enough, barely manage to hide their most private parts. I have seen haunted female devotees, rocketing down the temple stairs to avoid unexpected eye catch to the uncovered ones.

It was Sunday and it being a holiday I was quite sure that my wife would be taking extra long to explain her grieves to the god today. It is like, all pending problems which were not reported to God on weekdays, on account of time constrain, were added in weekend prayers. 

As every other day, I completed greeting all available 27 gods and sub gods, spread around one kilometer radius of the temple, in few minutes and then sat on the temple doorstep.

I prefer this place for waiting as it can entertain you with both inside and outside views of the temple.

A devotee caught my attention, his eyes were closed and hands were folded in prayer. He has been a regular visitor since last couple of days. Tears were rolling out of his eyes; no doubt he was in pain. After few minutes he started switching prayer positions in pursuit of the best one to please the god. After thirty minutes of continuous effort he finally got assured that all methods of prayer known to him has been covered. He offered donation in the donation box and then final statement came out of his mouth

“Ohh God please help me out of this andI will offer 101 coconuts in return” 

And he left

While he was leaving the temple, one beggar got in to his way.  He was starved thin and was probably bath deprived for months. He was begging for few pennies that could help him fill his stomach. In his effort to get his motive fulfilled, the beggar first caught the devotee’s leg and then tried resting forehead on his leg. No matter how hard the person tried to ignore him, the beggar kept on switching his begging positions.

It was surprising, how things changed from inside the temple to outside. The one who was begging before god inside was portraying god himself for a lesser privileged man outside. Tears have changed eyes and prayers were replaced by begging.

No matter how hard the beggar tried, it didn’t leave any impact on the devotee. He completely ignored the beggar and moved ahead.

I could not help myself and called for the devotee aloud

“Hello Mr “

The man turned towards me and replied in surprise with his index figure pointed towards his chest.


“Yup You” I stepped down the stairs to get closer to him.

In my way I passed the beggar who has now started to offer his prayers to me. Displeased with his one god he has decided to check with another one.

“This beggar seems really hungry, why didn’t you help him with few coins?”  Devotee got shocked by unexpected question and so did the beggar.

Devotee hesitated for a second and then said directing his index finger towards the beggar

“If I would help him today, he will never learn to earn by himself and will keep on begging forever. “

He finished it quick and got moving again.

“Nice thought man, but what if god is thinking the same in response of your prayers which you have been offering to him since last couple of days.” I shouted from behind.

I don’t know what are you trying to convey Mr., but I don’t have time for this. “He replied without even bothering to look back.

“Imagine yourself to be the beggar and the God to be a devotee. He is not taking away your pain because he wants you to learn from it. He wants you to fight it and get stronger in the process.

Life is too long brother and begging to the gods can’t help you forever. Don’t make him feel ashamed of his own creation. God designed us to fight not to see our sorry face all the time.” I explained myself in an increased tone of voice.

He stopped and stood there motionless for couple of seconds with his back still facing towards me.

Then he turned to throw a smile of gratitude at me and moved on.

As I turned back, my wife was standing right behind me, smiling. I looked for beggar but I could not find him.

We still visit temple regularly but surprisingly, I have never seen that devotee or the beggar around after that day.

Most importantly, my wife’s interacting period with God has decreased manifolds 😛


“Some of God’s greatest gifts are unanswered prayers.”

                                                                                                        – Garth Brooks

The Kid’s Belief

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The kid has made numerous attempts to climb on that bench but so far the success was none.

He was young or can say ‘too young’. I guessed him to be 5yrs or less in age but his adherence to845274_jace the task have won attention of almost every adult present in that Park. He has been trying to climb that bench for an hour now. All external help, in between, was denied efficaciously by him. Helping hands with beautiful faces were pushed away and ugly ones were vilified with scared runs.

 To satisfy my urge of seeing the cute warrior’s face, I walked closer to him.  He was a sweet little kid in shorts and blue check shirt. His tiny and chubby appearance resembled the cutest soft toy one can ever imagine. But his actions were far away from matching his looks.  He was determined to get what he wants and ignored all physical limitation which his age was trying to put on to him. His endeavor caught attention of few eyes first but slowly and gradually Entire Park crowded around him to cheer him up in his venture.

 Dare in his actions were intensifying with each ensuing attempts. This time he walked little further to facilitate a longer run-up.

With his eyes wide open and gaze fixed at the left edge of the bench he ran in acceleration. While his tiny legs still paddling against the ground he hits the brink with both his hands pushing the surface hard enough to set his lower body float towards the bench.

I was amazed to see the guts of the 5 year old but the guts lacked skills which consequentially led his back to smash directly in to the backrest of the bench. He was definitely hurt but it appeared as if he has done the job this time.

Sadly, before his body could gain the grip on the surface, inclination slopped him down back to the ground. People rushed towards him but I stopped them.

 Don’t know why but I wanted him to stand by his own and he did stand again, tears were running out of his eyes this time but still crying was non-vocal.845272_jace

He moved away from the bench and sat on the ground facing his undefeated enemy. In his last attempt he has damaged the left side of the old bench a bit. He remained there for few minutes continuously gazing at the bench, tears still rolling down his cheeks.

Then something amazing happened, the kid stood up, wiped out his tears and lurched towards the bench again. A smile appeared on his face which got widened when he reached the right side of the bench. In his entire efforts he has been completely focused on the left portion while he ignored a tree which has rooted itself just beside the right corner. With the help of its rough stem he easily climbed the bench almost effortlessly.

Mare shift of his focus from left side of the bench to the right side, the task which seemed impossible even after tremendous effort turned out be a duck soup.

          Is it not the childish thing which we adults often do?  Most of the times we get so biased with some goals or people in our lives that we start considering it as the only way to success or happiness and even if it does not give up desired results, we don’t let it go. The reason being simple “we believe in it”.

               “With concentrated focus on our believes we lose liberty to think beyond” 


Complete Acceptance

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“Listen to me Susan” Jack screamed but his voice failed to strike my wrathful mind. Ignoring thoughts of all consequences, I scampered out of the door slamming it hard behind my back.

 It was raining outside and I had no homely shelter to look forward for. Sensing mental feebleness, my legs itself lurched in the direction of sun set. Haunting memories of beautiful past flashed before my eyes introducing me to my new alien existence.

Rain calmed my anger down but failed to stop the immense pain of broken heart that took over subsequently. Tears started to roll out of my eyes and soon matched the rhythm of the rain. I desperately wanted that rain to turn up in to some flood and wipe me out of this life. Darkness embraced the city and so did the chilling wind but the freezing temperature outside felt much comfortable than the heat of burning pain inside.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have just been cleared to land at the Cancun airport, please make sure that your seat belts……” flight announcement pulled me back to the present. I am on my way to Holbox Island.

Separated from the mainland of Mexico by shallow lagoon, Holbox is an island of secluded beaches. I desperately wanted to get away from everything and from everywhere. By the time I reached my pre-booked hotel room at the Island it was already dark. Sleep was miles away from my eyes and even the exhausting journey of six hours failed to make me feel hungry. Not sure of what to do next, I decided to take an alcohol escape. I poured vodka in to my glass, making double sure that it goes above extra large benchmark, and stepped out in to the beautiful entresol attached to my window. The sound of sea waves and the alcohol together tuned my thoughts back to the past.

“I am seeing someone”. Jack’s this statement that evening turned my world upside down. The news paralyzed me like Death adder bite. I remained inactive as my mind had never designed any reaction for this situation ever.

We have been married since last so many years, everything appeared so normal, what made this happen? My left over sense kept on searching for reasonable reasons to justify his action, but in lack of any, it turned in to a bitter rage.

“And for how long this is been happening?” I asked keeping my tone as calm as possible.

“Over six months now.” He replied looking away from me.

“You Son of a ……….” Hatred filled my heart. Since last six months I have been living a life filled with his fake emotions. A feeling of humiliation incepted burning sensation in every drop of blood running through my veins.

“Listen Susan, it all happened. It was completely out of control.”  He came up with a lame excuse.

“And what about hiding it from me, was that out of control too? “  I screamed.

“I didn’t want to hurt you.” He came up with another bullshit.


“You know what, this conversation we are having here is just a situation for you. You might have prepared long for it and with the end of it you will be free to live your new dream life.

Come and look from my side Jack, with end of this conversation I would be losing everything. You ruined me, you bastard. I am getting out of here.  May your soul rot in hell…?”

“Listen to me Susan” Jack screamed but his voice failed to strike my wrathful mind. Ignoring thoughts of all consequences, I scampered out of the door slamming it hard behind my back…

It has been over a year now but I am still stuck there. That incident turned me in to a loner. I started avoiding people and soon all my friends were long gone. Life became purposeless and in lack of motivated efforts my career got stuck like forever. Alcohol and sex became the alternatives for real happiness which never lasted for more than the activity itself. In short, I have been in hell.

Alcohol had captured my senses completely.

Jack once said to me “amazing girl like you is hard to find. “ Was it for true or was just the outcome of preceded intimate moments. Doesn’t matter now, does it? He is long gone, and right now he might be sharing similar moments with someone else.

I looked towards the watch it was 5:30 am, beginning of twilight.

” Amazing girl like me is hard to find”.

 I didn’t wanted to be found too. I tossed my empty glass and jumped out of the mezzanine towards the beach. Something started pulling me towards the shore. I kept on walking till the cold water of the sea touched my feet. I remembered, how Jack used to hold me tight in the sea, knowing that I get scared in deep waters.

Tears filled my eyes. Today I am not afraid of anything. I started walking again, water level kept on increasing, feeling of coldness rolling over from my toes to knees and finally to my neck. Uncomfortable to walk further, I started swimming as fast as fast possible and soon the sea shore was out of my sight. Finally I was tired, tired of everything. I wanted to sleep. Throwing a final gaze at the horizon my heart whispered in to my mind

“Let’s quit.”

I surrendered myself into the arms of deep sea. It felt as if I am throwing myself on to the bed after a long tiring day. A giant wave turned me upside down and pushed me deep in to the sea. My eyes were closed but I could feel my body getting away from the surface of water.

“Why are you upset dad?” I asked

“I lost my Job Susan” dad replied in a low sounding voice.

“Why did you lose your job?”  I inquired again.

“It is their organization, they can do whatever they like to do with their employees” he replied in frustration.

“Don’t worry dad, when I will grow up I will buy you a new organization.” I promised my dad hugging him tight.

He laughed loud and hugged me back “In that case I will have to take  good care of you till you grow up”  he replied and kissed me on my forehead.


A memory of my early childhood suddenly flashed before my eyes backed by images of all those people who ever cared for me.

What the hell I was thinking, just because life closed one door for me I stopped caring about everything else in life. Possibility of making all my dreams true was right there, above that surface of water, in the real world, and with every passing second I was getting away from it.

I opened my eyes, it was dark, probably I was too deep in to the water or maybe sun is not yet up completely. I started swimming towards the surface. I needed air to breath; collecting my leftover strength I pushed myself harder. In approximately a minute of effort I saw the light piercing through the surface of water. Few seconds more and it will be over.

A gigantic wave pushed me down just before I could reach the surface and then parade of waves followed. Lack of oxygen started to wipe me of my senses.

“Is this over?”

 “God I completely accept my life as it is, please give me one last chance, I promise I would not waste single moment of it grieving over past.”  With this prayer I felt as if some huge burden has been removed from over my head.

I fainted with a last sight of a pair of hand pulling me out of the water.

“You alright?” I heard a manly voice coming from some distance

“You alright?” or probably it’s being generated just above my face.I opened my eyes, I was on the beach with a  handsome man busy giving CPR to me.

It seems as if god has given me little more than what I prayed for.

“Yeah I am alright now, thank you“ I replied with a smile.

“We were on the same flight.” He said.

Oh really, wow , sorry I didn’t see you..I replied surprisingly

See how pain can blind you to opportunities around 😛

 “You cannot heal unless and until you accept your situation completely. Life is precious, just don’t mesh it up”. Stop knocking at closed doors, look around , there are many more doors not yet explored.” –  upsohigh

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