Carpe Diem

“Really mom, who designs such stuff?” Varun asked pointing to the MRI machine as he came out of the scan room. “Engineers, and you will become one someday,” Sunita said to her twelve-year old son, trying to fake a smile on her pale to death face. “Huh! Mom I am too cool for that,” Varun said imitating the posture of a rapper. Sunita ruffled his hair and said, “just wait here, ok. I will just check on the doctor.” She went inside the room from which he has just come.  

The doctor was sitting near the computer screen with a grim expression. “Please tell me it’s not as bad as I think it is,” she whimpered. The doctor gave her a furtive glance. “Look Mrs. Mehra, I think it’s time that you tell Varun about his brain tumor.” The tears which were hiding in the corner of her eyes broke loose. “Just console yourself Mrs. Mehra. It has been over a year since diagnosis. It’s an achievement in itself. I mean, you also know no one expected more than ten months for him. But now, the tumor has grown way too big. It can be any moment that….”

“Just shut up! Don’t you dare complete that sentence!” she interrupted. “I am not going to tell him. It will break him. The regular chemotherapy sessions are already taking a toll on him. I just don’t want him to live in fear of death,” she said sobbing. “Aren’t we all living in fear of death Mrs. Mehra? Anyways, it is just my opinion. Just make sure that he doesn’t do some intense physical work or do any such thing which could put a pressure on his head.” Sunita just nodded and dried her cheeks and started walking towards the door. “And one more thing…..there is no need for anymore chemotherapy sessions. We can’t do anything more,” the doctor snapped from behind.

“Mom….what does carpe diem means?” Varun asked looking outside the car window as they drove back home. Doctor’s words were ringing in her ears. She was blankly staring at the bald head of her child. She remembered how he always hated going to the barber’s shop for hair-cut. She looked at his emancipated limbs and remembered how he would come home late in evening, covered all in mud from playing football. He loved football but he loved athletics more. He would always win a medal in the athletics’ meet in his school. She remembered how he would always flunk in one or two subjects and she would scold him and he would smile throughout her chiding. “Mom!!” He waved his hand in front of her eyes. She came back to the harsh reality! That naughty beautiful kid with flowing jet black hair was no more. “Some year it has been!” She thought and a tear rolled down her eyes. “I asked you what does carpe diem mean? I saw it on a banner. You haven’t spoken a word since we came out of hospital. Will you care to tell me why do I have to go for health checkups so often? I am so sick of asking this question,” he put his mother in the spot. “Oh it’s nothing dear…..it’s just for those headaches you have you know…..and carpe diem….I guess it means to seize the day,” she said furtively. Varun just gave a nod. He wasn’t satisfied, yet he remained silent. Then he remembered something and his usual excitement was back on his face. “Ohh I forgot to tell you one thing….you know my history teacher….we had history midterm last week and guess what I left the copy blank….I mean I didn’t even know a single answer but guess what…..she gave me an 8/10.”

“Ohh that’s great!” she again faked a smile, trying so hard not to choke on her own tears.

“What….you aren’t mad that I left the copy blank?”

“Why would I be….you scored decent marks.”

“And you know….the same happened with my English and maths mid-term too. I attempted questions of about 3-4 marks and teachers gave me full 10/10. You should have watched the look on that geek Rahul’s face. He scored a 9,” he smirked, “and you know that Shrey….he has been teasing me for my bald head. I told him it’s my Lex Luthor look. I swear one day I am going to punch him on his face if he continues to tease me like that.” He continued telling her stories from his school and she kept on smiling and ruffling his hair but her mind was still clogged by thoughts that she didn’t want there. Varun was just about two years old when her husband died. Since then every breath she has taken, she has taken for Varun. She just could not imagine a life without him.

“Mom, can I go today for a small football match?” he asked in the most adorable way he could. “No way! You yourself said you didn’t write anything in those exams. Don’t you have to study?” Her heart almost broke saying this. At that moment, she would have given anything in this world to see her son play for just one time because it was the only thing that made him really happy. She knew how suffocated he felt by staying in the house whole day. But she just couldn’t allow him, because doctors have said that any physical effort could prove fatal. “But mom I haven’t event touched football since I don’t even remember when….”

“You don’t have to argue with me…..what I have said is final.”

“Ok fine….I will do what you say…..just let me participate in athletics’ meet next week…”

“Out of question…..your grades are so poor….you just cant play or….”

“Mom….I will only participate in 100m race. It gets over in about 10 seconds. What harm it will do to my studies?”

“No means a no!”

“Why are you behaving like this mom? It’s like I am in a home arrest or something. You don’t let me go out to play. You don’t let me participate in any co-curricular. It’s just home to school then home then doctor then sleep and repeat. You weren’t like this. I can’t even breath properly in this house. It’s like I am dying every second. I don’t know what’s wrong but I think you don’t love me anymore.”

The cab stopped in front of their house. Varun got out of the car, slammed the door behind him and ran into the house. She paid the cab driver and slowly trotted inside. She stopped in front of his room. He was just lying there on his bed, staring at the rotating fan. She thought of talking to him but then stopped. She didn’t have anything to say. She slowly walked in her room with heavy steps. Slumped on her bed, grabbed a pillow and covered her face with it and then screamed into it with all her force. She has been restraining those tears throughout the cab drive but now she couldn’t control anymore. She grabbed Varun’s photo, put her close to her heart and said, “I love you dear…..I love you more than anything else in this world. I am so sorry for being such a jerk around you. But what can I do dear….what can I do? I am so selfish…I just can’t see you die. I want to postpone it as much as I can.” The pillow was completely drenched from her tears. She looked at the ceiling. “Why my little son? What wrong has he done? The day my son die will be the day I stop believing in you.” Humans have a tendency to blame God for every pain that they suffer. An embodiment of their imagination, what magic can he do!!

*After a week*

Sunita poured the hot milk in glass, put it in a tray and called, “Varun….just wake up you lazy bone.” When there was no response she took the tray, and went to his room and was shocked as she entered the room. Varun was not in his bed. It was Sunday, the school was off, he was supposed to be in the bed. “Varun!!” she shouted repeatedly but still there was no response. She checked the bathroom, the terrace and everywhere else in the house but he was nowhere to be found. She went outside to check in the park but there were no kids there. She checked her neighbour’s house but he couldn't be found. Everyone was trying to relax her, asking her not to worry but she was continuously crying. There was little any word could do to reduce her worries. Suddenly she remembered, it was athletics’ meet that day. At that point she only hoped that she doesn’t find him in the 100m race also. One of her neighbours offered her a ride to school and as she reached there she rushed to the ground where the events were going on. As she reached the stands she saw the athletes ready at the starting line and there was Varun on third number. She started running towards him to stop him but then she saw a big smile on his face and then something stopped her from inside. The whistle blew and all the athletes just whizzed off. The entire crowd was clapping and cheering. Then suddenly, when he would have completed about only one third of the race, Varun fell. A loud shrill scream came out of Sunita’s mouth. There was silence in the entire ground. The coach came running towards him but Varun gestured him to stop. His competitors were already beyond the finish line. “All I want is to complete the race!” Varun said in a stern voice. 

  

Then he stood up, gathered all his strength and started running. His head was throbbing like never before, the pain was unbearable. He thought of the past one year, how he couldn’t play anything the whole year. He felt the cold morning breeze as it whizzed past his bald head. He laughed. He laughed like he had never laughed in this past one year. He felt as if he was flowing with the wind. The pain was also slowly alleviating. The red finish line was coming nearer every second. Soon, he could only see the red color of the finish line under his feet and then there was all black. He felt free.

Sunita saw her son fall at the finish line. He completed the race. She ran to him. She was crying like no woman has ever cried in the history before. The coach also came running to him. He checked his pulse and with a blank expression looked at Sunita. “Wake up Varun….see you have completed the race…wake up champion…see everyone is cheering you,” tears were running down profusely from her eyes. “Mrs. Mehra I don’t think he is waking up,” the coach said. Sunita slapped him. “You knew everything….yet you allowed him to run! How could you do this?” She said. “Mrs. Mehra…..your son was a true champion. He gave me this letter before the race and asked me to give it to you after the race.” Sunita took the letter and read:

“Dear mom,

I know you would be mad at me and I am sorry. I may not be the smartest kid in class but I am not so dumb also. You not allowing me to play was the normal stuff but teachers giving me spare marks, you not being mad at me flunking exams and yes not to forget those tiring ‘checkups’ at hospital every week. I know I am dying.

I could have followed your instructions and stayed in house and probably would have lived for another week or month. But I didn’t want my last moments to be lying on bed eating pills. I didn’t want you to regret that you couldn’t watch me play again. C’mon mom I know you love when I race or play football.

So, smile mom. I know that I might die today and if I do, I will die happy. You told me the meaning of carpe diem…..and I want to live by that phrase at least for the last day of my life and I want you to live by it for the rest of your life.

Carpe diem mom.

Your love,

Varun”

A tight slap

Ojha’s white safari shone a little more, his golden chain sparkled a bit more, the smug grin on his face was a bit more complacent as he entered his house after parking his Ford. Sure, his grandeur was questionable considering the fact that he was a babu in Lucknow Nagar Nigam. “Sushma cook butter chicken for today,” he said as he entered his living room. A corpulent woman with huge love handles dangling above her waist came out of the room drying her hand with the anchal of her saree. “What’s so special today?” she asked with an anticipative grin. “Nothing much. You might remember Jankipuram wale Verma ji, right? He got the plot he was asking for and I got what I was asking for.” Smiling from ear to ear, he took out a jewelry case from his briefcase. “Pure gold!” He exclaimed. His wife opened her mouth in awe. “This time Goddess Laxshmi has been extra benevolent. Wait I will put it in the puja ghar first so that her blessings remain on us.” Saying this she went away to her Puja ghar.

“Sunny…..come here.” Ojha called for his son. After a while his son came with lethargic footsteps. “What Papa….I was studying,” he said trying hard not to yawn. “Ok then, go and study I will give this iPhone to someone else,” he winked. In a second Sunny’s demeanor changed and he beamed up. He snatched the phone from his hand. “You are the best papa in the world,” he said as he slumped down on the sofa in excitement. Ojha ruffled up his son’s hair and said, “I am going to change. Ask your mother to keep the briefcase safely, there is some cash in it.” Saying this he went away. After a while Sunny also got up and went back to his room.

An eight-year-old boy was watching all this from the corner of the room. Wearing only a ragged t-shirt that came up to his knees, he was cleaning the floor. His curious eyes were watching the ecstasy of Sunny and Sushma on receiving a gift. He hasn’t received a gift in his life. He wondered whether receiving a gift is really that satisfying. He thought of the things that satisfied him and only a full stomach before going to sleep came to his mind.  With heavy steps, he moved towards the briefcase. His eyes burned on seeing so many hundred rupees notes inside the briefcase. He looked around, no one was there. He again remembered those happy faces of his employers on receiving the gifts. He thought of giving a gift to his mother. Probably, she also has never got a gift in her life. He just imagined her happiness and almost automatically his hands went inside the briefcase. Just then a big blow startled him and then one more. He fell down like a broken twig. It took him a minute to realize it was Ojha slapping him. “Chor sala!” He screamed. The slap was so brutal that the boy’s cheeks were bleeding. He couldn’t lift himself up because of shock. “Just hand him to police now,” Sushma came rushing to the scene on hearing the noise. She also slapped her several times. Ojha lifted him up, looked him in his eyes with a fierce gaze. “Will you do it again?” he asked. The boy didn’t blink his eyes. His gaze was as fierce as his. “Not if you don’t.” His voice was crisp. Slap!! “What do you mean?” Ojha screamed, now in complete rage. “How was my stealing different from what you do? Probably, only in the sense that I got caught!” The boy replied coldly. Ojha and his wife both stood there stunned. The boy has slapped them without raising his hand.

Not Placed

“When is the list coming?” Zaid asked with utmost anxiousness. “Chill bro…..it will come. If 9 pointers like you start worrying like this then what should 7 pointers like us do,” his department’s Training and Placement Representative (TPR) quipped. He put down the phone and slumped down on his bed in his 10ft X 10ft hostel room. It was his fifteenth interview and he didn’t want it to become his fifteenth rejection. He stared blankly at the wall that he had painted with a colorful graffiti depicting the four years of an average engineering student in India. “This time I answered all the questions correctly, I can’t be rejected,” he murmured to himself. “But so I did in previous fourteen interviews,” he sighed.

His introspection session was interrupted by a beep of his smartphone. It was a whatsapp message in his department group. An image. Suddenly his breath became heavy, his heart started pounding heavily on his rib cage. The moment of truth was in front of him, again. Apprehensively, he opened the message. It was a short list with three names and none of them was his. The TPR was placed though. “Seems like a 9 pointer like me should start worrying now,” he thought. What went wrong? His mind started rewinding his entire academic life. A topper since class 1^st, he had always been the apple of eyes for his parents as well as teachers. Almost everyone was impressed by his eidetic memory, particularly his drawing teacher. He once drew the thronged square of city with sheer perfection without even looking at anything; all those people’s expression, those car brands, those shop positions were there in his head. No wonder such a brain cracked the toughest engineering entrance and made into the most reputed engineering college of country. He was already a celebrity in his family. He was the Sharma ji’s son for all his cousins. Everyone was proud of him, even he was complacent about his achievements. He enjoyed all those praise, that feeling of superiority over others who weren’t as smart as him. Even in college no one could match his beautifully wired brain, he started by topping in first semester and no one could dethrone him from that position. He had never tasted defeat…..not until now.

“First time for everything eh?” he looked in the mirror. “Loser!” his reflection derided him. He couldn’t see himself in mirror. “So now you know how it feels,” it was his cousin staring back at him from the mirror. “I think I expected too much from you. You can’t even bag a job,” his cousin got transformed into his father. His husky voice echoed in his ears. “Stop!” he pulled his hair. “Loser!” his reflection smirked. “I said STOP!” he screamed and punched on the mirror. “What went wrong? What went wrong?” His head was throbbing. There were voices screaming under his skull.

Blood oozed from his knuckle and a few drops landed on a page lying on floor. Suddenly the voices got muffled. His eyes saw a peculiar pattern in those drops. He picked up the paper and moved his finger over the paper joining the droplets in lines. In a matter of seconds, the droplets took form of a ballerina with arms stretched like wings. He looked at it for a while. A satisfying smile came up on his face but then suddenly those voices again erupted in his mind. “What went wrong?” His gaze was fixed at the caricature of a boy with graduation robes in his graffiti. “What went wrong?” He again stared blankly at the graffiti; and the answer stared back to him in oblivion.  

On the river bank

“A man in suit…..that’s new,” the old man said in his quivering voice as he sat beside Rohit. A whiff of cheap cigarette emanated from Rohit’s breath as he looked at the kurta clad scrawny old man. “What’s new about it?” he asked indifferently. “In dark nights like this…..beside this ever flowing river, I have seen people, a lot of them. Beggars with empty stomachs, sadhus with no home, wanderers who were lost, people with urns brimmed with ashes of the demised……..and this benevolent bank embraces all of them. But you seem like none of them,” the old man said. Rohit looked at him and then at the dark clouds that had muffled the full moon completely. There was ubiquitous silence, nothing but the gentle flow of river was audible. It was odd; the frogs weren’t croaking, the crickets weren’t chirping, the owls weren’t hooting and Rohit wasn’t speaking. “If not anything else……you can at least tell me your name,” this time the old man nudged him.

Rohit was irked now. If that had been another day, Rohit and the old man would have been pals by now. But that day was different. He wanted to shut him away from everything……just like the moon had shut itself from earth behind the clouds. He wanted to yell at the old man and wanted him to leave……but at that moment he didn’t have enough strength for yet another outburst, so he just replied with a lump in his throat. “Rohit…..my name is Rohit.” The old man put his arms over his shoulders affectionately. “You seem troubled young man….what’s troubling you.”

Maybe it was the eerie silence or the haunting darkness or maybe it was that affectionate gesture, the type of which he hadn’t received since the day he submerged his father’s ashes in the same river which was flowing in front of him, that made him break down after three long arduous months. He had faced everything but this was the first time that his eyes finally vented out the pain of failure. “I am a big bad failure….. I don’t know why I should live anymore,” he sobbed inconsolably.

   

“But what happened?”

“It all started three months back….. I lost the contract….the shares fell…. I lost my father….. I couldn’t pay my employees…..finally I had to close my company….. I got bankrupt and today…..they auctioned my house. There is nothing new about me mister…..rather I am some part of all the people you’ve met here.” His voice was almost incomprehensible because of the continuous sobs. A slight breeze passed over the land ruffling his airs. The old man looked patiently at the young man’s tears joining the river in its flow. “So you have come here to end your life?” The old man asked. “No…..but now I intend to.” Rohit wasn’t sobbing anymore, his voice was rather hollow. He stood up abruptly and just then his wallet slipped from his pocket, stumbled down the smooth pebbles and went splashing into the water. Rohit immediately jumped into the river and after a lot of searching finally came back with his wallet.

“How much money is there in your wallet?”

“Five hundred something….why?”

“You have lost all your fortune …..what difference a loss a few more five hundred bucks would have made that you strived so hard to get it back.”

“It wasn’t for the money….it was for this,” he showed him his wallet. There was a drenched photo of a cute little girl with sparkling black eyes and rosy cheeks. “She is my daughter…..four years now. She now lives with her mother since I got bankrupt. This is the last photo I have of her.” The old man laughed. Rohit looked at him in dismay. “What is there to laugh?”

“I am laughing at the irony dear. You said you are bankrupt yet your wallet is so rich!!”

Rohit was stunned for a while. The river now reflected the lunar light as the moon had broken away from the shackles of cloud. “My daughter used to chide me for making her search the entire house for my spects while those pair of glasses rested in the pocket of my kurta. If she were here…..she would have chided you too. Most often the things we are searching for are right there under our nose…..but our eyes couldn’t see them. You have a reason young man….a reason to live….a treasure to keep.” The old man also stood up, patted Rohit on his back and began trotting away. “Hey thanks mister….that was some good advice… I needed it. Who are you?” Rohit asked.

“Just someone who is not as rich as you are.” 

A room full of cakes !!

“Fixing up a car to drive in it again

Searching for the water hoping for the rain

Up and up, up and up”

I have been absent from my blog since past several months and once again Coldplay inspired me to write. Up & up released a few days back and you just can’t hear its lyrics and not pick up your lazy ass from that couch. I can associate a number of reasons for not writing an article in past two or perhaps three months- classes, exams, relationship problems and many more; but the truth is, they all will be nothing but vague excuses. I have been busy in guilty pleasures and have been procrastinating almost everything- my writing, my reading even my CAT preparations. I now even feel guilty in calling writing my passion.

There was a man who loved cakes. But in his village there was no one who could make cakes. So the man travelled vast stretches of deserts, scaled gigantous mountains, swam over monstrous tides to reach a room. The room was filled with vanilla flavored cakes but the man liked chocolate flavored cakes. The room had an exit door but it was locked. There was no key to the locked door but that door was made up of a material which became soft on hitting. The more he hit, the softer it became. But once he stopped hitting, it became hard again. Now the man had two options, either he could live the rest of his life eating vanilla cakes or he could keep on smashing the door till it became soft enough to break.

“You can say what is, or fight for it

Close your mind or take a risk”

Aren’t we all like that man? Aren’t we all trapped in a room with vanilla cakes? We all have struggled in our past to reach the point at which we are now. But we aren’t satisfied with what we have gained, we want more, we want something better, we want chocolate cakes. Most of us chose to eat the easily available vanilla cake for the rest of our lives. But when the stars rise and the eyes close, chocolate cakes always come floating in the dream. Many of us start hitting the door and the door becomes soft but after sometime we think why not eat vanilla cakes, moreover who knows even after breaking the door we will get chocolate cake and hence we pause and the door becomes hard again.

The world has so many more unsuccessful men than successful men because not everyone has the perseverance to break the door. For me that door is CAT exam, for someone else it may be GATE exam or some startup idea or some tournament or anything. We have to keep on hitting the door till it breaks open. Yes, the future is uncertain and that is the beauty of it. We don’t know that behind that door lies chocolate cake or not but if we don’t break it, we would never know. We succumb to drudgery so easily that we fail to appreciate the magnificence of risk.

The key point is to understand that to achieve greatness we have to continue trying because the moment we stop, everything starts getting undone. And this is what I am trying to explain myself. We just can’t bask in our old victories; we have to create new ones so that old ones don’t get tainted by the name of luck. Life, as they say, is a journey. And I believe it should only end in the flow of holy ganges. Till then don’t stop and eat only vanilla cakes…….go on break the door!!    

Something Super

When I was a kid, I wanted to be a superhero-flying around in cape, saving people, fighting aliens and stuff like that. Then life happened and my ambitions veered. Since then I have thought of myriad things that I could become-president, pilot, cartoonist and what not. Finally, I am pursuing engineering and still I don’t know what I want to become. But one thing I know for sure now-what I don’t want to be the rest of my life; a mechanical engineer.

In spite of this, the dream of becoming a superhero never quite eluded my mind. I have always admired them, haven’t we all? At the end of the day, we all want to be a hero, if not superhero, in the eyes of whom we love. I have always been an avid follower of comics and their characters and what I have discovered is that even after all those powers that these superheroes have, they have limits; even after all that ultimate strength, they are vulnerable’ even after all that speed; they have barriers. Their anecdotes are not legendary because of everything super that they have but because they could bear pain without breaking. Take any of the hero, the villain is always stronger and more resourceful. Flash is the fastest man alive yet Dr. Zoom is faster than him, Wonder Woman is a decorated warrior yet Cheetah is better at fighting than her, Green Arrow is the best archer but there is Merlyn who aims better than him, Thor has Loki, Batman has Joker, even Superman has a nemesis who is stronger than he is-Doomsday.

You might be wondering why I am rambling all this here. There are people who keep on asking me why follow something that can never be true, something that is so far from reality. This is an answer to them. I don’t follow these characters with superhuman powers because I am in awe of their extraordinary fictional feats or because I need an escape from reality but because they inspire me to never lose hope. Just before the previous semester, I got an all-time low SGPA and a dwindling CGPA ensued. It was the beginning of pre-final year and such a setback was not at all expected. And when I thought I couldn’t get back in the race I remembered a story. Once Dr. Hurt, Black Glove and Joker ganged up and poisoned Bruce Wayne and then buried him alive beside his father’s grave. They beat up Alfred, and burnt down the bat-cave. They literally took everything from him. Doesn’t it look like a dead end? But he was Batman….guess what he did? He bench-pressed the coffin lid through 600 pounds of lose dirt and literally set himself free from his own grave and then kicked the hell out of those idiots. I tried showing the same perseverance and after one semester I scored my all-time high SGPA. Though I may not have saved humanity by doing this but at least I fought my villains.

Wonder woman once said, “I have no idea where I am going to be tomorrow but I accept the fact that tomorrow will come. And I am going to rise to meet it.” Every night I tell myself the same thing. These heroes have taught me the real meaning of silver lining. They have taught me that you can never accomplish anything without facing adversity. Peter Parker saw his uncle Ben die to become spiderman, Bruce Wayne witnessed the murder of his parents to become Batman, Martian Manhunter watched his entire race getting wiped out, even Tony Stark was captured in a war before he built his armor. No matter how gifted you are, there is someone better than you trying to pull you down. You have to be focused, you have to constantly train, you have to persevere to outsmart your opponent.

Almost all of them have extraordinary powers but my favorite one is their superhuman will to adhere to the path of righteousness. Even though they have all the power in the world, yet they don’t kill people. Even scumbags like Lex Luthor, Manderin or Joker. This teaches me the power of self-restraint, the power to stick to your principles. All it would take Thor a swing of hammer to kill Loki, yet he allows him to live. I live in a hostel and there a number of distractions here, distractions which can prove fatal in the long run like the distraction of drugs and alcohol. Almost all of my friends take them, I refrain myself from doing so because once you step in the swamp, you either drown or come out really-really dirty. Again, I don’t save the world by choosing not to smoke weed but I know I save the trust of my mother who believed in me when she sent me away from her that her son would follow the moral code that she had taught me since I could learn.

You really don’t need to have superpowers to be a superhero. And also you don’t have to save the city to be a superhero. As Batman said-a hero can be anyone. Yes, indeed a hero can be anyone. If you are fighting the devil of procrastination and doing your work on time, then also you are a hero. If you can keep a promise you gave to someone then also you are a hero. If you can dream something and achieve it then also you are a hero. Don’t we all have that inner desire to gain some super power? And the truth is……we all have that power within us to turn us into a hero……we all have something super within us and we don’t have to wear capes to let it come out.

Symbiotic Beings

For years he was wandering in solitude. He was in solitude, not loneliness….there’s a difference. He wasn’t searching for anything to complete him; he was complete on his own; rather he was looking for his complement. He was cynical or perhaps skeptic. He was constantly asked to be mature that’s why he shoved that kid in him at the back of his conscience. Still, no matter how hard he subdued; that kid erupted in his manners now and then. This made him even more conscious about his outward appearance. He always questioned why he was doing so? Was it because someone close to him left him just because he was too childish or was it because he wanted to come out of that ‘youngest kid in the family’ image?

In India life’s tough if you are a girl or if you are short. Unfortunately, she was both. She wasn’t the girl you would find every day, after all, how many girls you know bet on when Kohli will get out in the ongoing cricket match? While other girls pondered over distinguishing their favorite color between magenta red and crimson red, she very candidly said “screw it!! I don’t have a favorite color”. She was different, not different as in you wouldn’t forget her face once you saw her in the crowd-she was too short to be seen in the crowd; but different intrinsically. She wasn’t the girl you would remember for her artificially painted beautiful face. That doesn’t mean she was not beautiful. She was beautiful. Beautiful in a way you can’t see. Beautiful in a way you can only perceive. She was beautiful deep down to her soul.

You see, she wasn’t a regular girl. She was an amalgamation of stones and feathers. At one time she would run a 7km marathon and win, and at other she would faint by walking two steps. Her innocent face hid a universe of unexplored pain in which no one was allowed to peek in. She had problems, but she wasn’t a damsel in distress. She didn’t want anyone to solve them for her, she only wanted someone to understand her quirks. The best thing about her was, she was a mummy; not those cursed corpses they rant about in folk lore. Like a mummy preserves the body organs, she preserved the childhood. She loved children and became one herself when she was around them. That’s why she was the answer to all his questions.

She complemented him and he was the astronaut of her space. They were the perfect symbiotic beings the nature ever produced. They still are.