Rajrupa Gupta's Blog, page 9
August 14, 2013
Kentucky Quest - I
Amidst the hills and forests of South-West Kentucky lies a
cave – the Mammoth Cave. Running almost 400 miles long it is easily the world’s
longest cave system. A separate world on its own, the cave has been of service
to the humans for as long as six thousand years. It has been historically used
as storm shelter, burial ground, tuberculosis hospital, food reservoir, mine
and tourist attraction. But since 1941, i.e. after its incorporation as a
National Park its only purpose lies in preserving its own ecosystem and
entertaining the horde of tourists that flock every day.
With the aim of making most of the quickly receding
summer, last Saturday we made it there after a four hour drive amidst the rain.
We were stuck by the natural beauty of the place. Millions of deciduous trees,
made a little greener by the rain closed in on us as we drove through the neat
asphalt made a little blacker by the rain.
The park sprawls over a lavish 52,830 acres of area which
includes several small springs, rivers – underground and not, hiking and bike
trails, and camping grounds. Apart from that there are several guided tours of
the cave itself.
When we reached the place at around 10 o’clock in the
morning, it was already bustling with people. Many of the tours were already full
but we were lucky to get on to the one o’clock tour which filled up right
after.
The rain had stopped so we decided to roam about
ourselves for the time being. We descended a long flight of steps through the
historic entrance of the cave where the season never changes. Inside the cave,
it’s always 12 degree Celsius. The cave is dimly lit by electric bulbs – the only
source of light in the cave. We learnt that there is a river that flows under
the cave ground. It is home to several species of fish and shrimp. But due to the
absolute darkness they don’t have eyes and they are translucent. We saw few
pictures of those fishes – they look eerie.
Beyond the lit corridor there are several pathways that
plunge into absolute darkness here and there on both sides but they are out of
reach to tourists. Maybe one of these pathways leads to the place where Floyd
Collins (one of the earliest explorers) died! I came to know about the tragic
story of Floyd Collins while talking to an elderly couple who have lived in
Kentucky for three generations now. They also sang to me a song that
illustrates the sad story in a lyrical form.
Next it was the time for the guided tour of the newentrance! We took a bus ride to the opposite side of the park and entered the
cave through what looked like an entry to a bomb chamber. We had to take a
steep flight of 280 stairs to go 250 meter under the ground. The stairs got so
narrow that at some points we had to cross sideways as the width of our body didn’t
fit! As we descended I marvelled at the nature’s wonder and at the human capability
too.
It was amazing how the cave had formed from water seeping
through limestone. We crossed the young cave, where it was still being formed
from water passing through the stones, we crossed the middle aged cave where it
was already fully formed and was wider and then we reached the old cave where
beautiful stalactites and stalagmites have given the cave an impression of
frozen waterfall! They call it frozen Niagra.
But what fascinated me more was the human capability to
install an intricate metal staircase through these narrow passages where anyone
can hardly stand straight!
When we reached the great hall that separated the young
and middle-aged cave, the ranger who was our tour guide switched off all the
lights to give us a glimpse of absolute darkness. It was nothing like I have
ever seen before. No matter how much time you give to adjust your eyes, you
still can’t see anything. And then she illuminated one cigarette lighter. And it
was enough to see everything in the vast hall: we could see every detail of the
stone walls, every hair on the next person’s body! It was an amazing
experience.
We completed our tour in little less than three hours. Itwas already afternoon and the campers were setting their camps up behind the
thick woods. Delicious smells wafted our way from their bar-be-ques. We took a
trail that led to a river called Green River. The trail was a deserted narrow
gravel road with thick trees on both sides. We met few deer along the way and a
few abandoned cabins. This made me finally understand why Americans made so
many spooky movies, because of so many readily available perfect locations!
The river was again a beautiful sight; people went rowing
in the river in their own canoes. Some rented them! People like us.
As much as we were enjoying the adventure, it started
raining again. It must have decided that it had given us enough breathers for
the day. So we had no choice but to return to the hotel we had booked.
As soon as we got into the car, everyone was suddenly very
tired and in a hurry to get back to the warmth of the hotel room. We drove
seven miles to our hotel in an angry downpour.
After we had bathed and dried ourselves up, we sat on the
recliners at the veranda with cups of hot cocoa and called it a day! It was
exhausting but a fulfilling adventure nevertheless!
Love,
© copyright 2012 – All rights reserved
Riot of Random
August 6, 2013
Clinomania!
Having
learnt the word Clinomania and that it’s a legitimate condition of a human
body, I am not shying away from using it anywhere and everywhere I can. In the last two days of its existence in my life
its usage has grown by leaps and bounds. I am dishing this word to everyone who
dares to try to get me out of my bed.
It
gives me a two-way advantage:
First
it gives me a pleasure to know that extreme addiction to one’s bed is more than
just laziness, it’s a condition, and it’s called Clinomania. And I am
Clinomaniac. Sounds better right? The hibernated feeling of guilt for being too
lazy is gone and I already feel a little elevated in my position.
Second,
when people around me tell me that I am just a plain old lazy person, I can
answer right back on their faces: I am not lazy, I am suffering from
Clinomania. The way most of them look at me tells me clearly that they have
never heard of it. Their displeasure instantly transforms into concern, the
underestimation gives away to overestimation and oh boy, how I smirk behind
their backs.
So
far for these two days I have been able to use this word successfully as oars
to smoothly sail my boat of extreme laziness through all the normal hardships
it has to go through.
As
I look forward to many more such days, I thought of sharing this with you all, with
the hope, you know, it might just come handy to someone who likes to be a couch
potato, just like me!
Love,
Riot of Random
learnt the word Clinomania and that it’s a legitimate condition of a human
body, I am not shying away from using it anywhere and everywhere I can. In the last two days of its existence in my life
its usage has grown by leaps and bounds. I am dishing this word to everyone who
dares to try to get me out of my bed.
It
gives me a two-way advantage:
First
it gives me a pleasure to know that extreme addiction to one’s bed is more than
just laziness, it’s a condition, and it’s called Clinomania. And I am
Clinomaniac. Sounds better right? The hibernated feeling of guilt for being too
lazy is gone and I already feel a little elevated in my position.
Second,
when people around me tell me that I am just a plain old lazy person, I can
answer right back on their faces: I am not lazy, I am suffering from
Clinomania. The way most of them look at me tells me clearly that they have
never heard of it. Their displeasure instantly transforms into concern, the
underestimation gives away to overestimation and oh boy, how I smirk behind
their backs.
So
far for these two days I have been able to use this word successfully as oars
to smoothly sail my boat of extreme laziness through all the normal hardships
it has to go through.
As
I look forward to many more such days, I thought of sharing this with you all, with
the hope, you know, it might just come handy to someone who likes to be a couch
potato, just like me!
Love,
© copyright 2012 – All rights reserved
Riot of Random
July 29, 2013
It's a girl - the three deadliest words in the world!
Evan Grae Davis speaks
at TEDxGateway about the new word called gendercide and its implications. As I watch,
I start to feel nauseated.
A
woman somewhere in South India smiles and enacts how she killed eight of her
new-borns just because she was a girl. She has no sign of remorse when she
shows the home made graveyard where she buried all eight of them. Makes you shiver. Does it not? But it’s
hardly unique. Chances are - you are all too familiar with different versions
of the same story.
If you are girl (I know you
didn’t have any control over it), then you are a criminal and you deserve to be
punished. If you were lucky not to be killed when you were but a foetus, or a little
girl, if you were not given less food, education or playtime compared to your
brother, if you were not raped, abused, if you somehow made it to getting
married then also your dowry has to be adequate, else, you may never rest in
peace in your husband’s house, may even die a dowry death.
In our country sons are assets
and daughters are liabilities. Quite literally. For when a daughter is born,
parents have to start saving right away, for the dowry of her marriage. A son,
on the other hand, is valued; because he will, after all, be the pension of old
age and also there will be a probability of earning a huge sum through the
dowry.
As
a result “it’s a girl” are considered the three deadliest words. And, right
now, 200 millions of women are missing in India and China. That’s eight zeroes
after two. Can you even begin to fathom the enormity of the number? Well, here’s
a staggering statistic from Evan Grae Davis
to help you understand: 200 million is more than all of the deaths of World War
l, World War ll and all the major battles of the 20th century combined. It’s
more than the number of people killed in all of the major genocides of the 20th
century combined.
Do
you now understand what a sinner our society is? But gendercide is only the
peak of the iceberg. As more number of girls are killed, the highly skewed sex
ratio triggers many other crimes: human trafficking being the most important of
them. Couples don’t want daughters but they want daughters-in-law to produce
them yet another male heir. Hence millions of girls are abducted each year,
often in their childhood and sold to other families as their future daughters-in-law.
In India there are several villages where there hasn’t been a single female
birth in generations. Horrific!
What is the reason behind this brutality?
Many
would argue education. But is it really? We have women stationed in every position
imaginable. From the highest posts in the democracy to the grass root level
social worker. Some others would argue poverty. But then again, we have so many
incidents of influential families not wanting girl children and forcing their
daughters-in-law to abort.
What
is it then? According to me it’s the deep sense of patriarchy rooted in our
psyche for many centuries. It’s the belief that girls are simply not good
enough, no matter what they might achieve.
And
greed! We Indians may preach ourselves as peaceful and simple human beings, but
our greed knows no bar! We can do anything for money. We can even kill our
daughters in order to save us the dowry money.
And
the farce of the law system. We have a law present for everything! Child
marriage is banned, dowry is illegal, sex determination of foetus is unlawful.
But who cares? Neither the common people, nor the law enforcers.
And
the greed again. To a point that it eclipses all sense of morality. Doctors are
happy to tell the sex of the foetus in exchange of a large sum of money and
conveniently ignore the fact that it may lead to abortion. Police is least
bothered to investigate a suspicious death of the young daughter-in-law of a
family if no monetary gain is promised. An IAS officer doesn’t mind to boast
that his position entitles him to a huge dowry.
In
all, it becomes a vicious cycle. As the sex ratio continues to be more skewed,
crimes like rapes grow in number. As these crimes grow in number, parents
become more apathetic towards having a girl child. And it goes on. No one addresses
the real problem. The whole nation sleeps through when the worst form of
violence takes away the lives of millions of women.
What can we do?
Honestly?
Everything. It’s not much being asked for. We all are just becoming animals under our
humanoid masks. Anything that doesn’t disturb our interests doesn’t bother us. If
we could only identify more with the form we wear in our daily lives we could
stop this barbarity easily.
We
are human after all, the most superior species on the earth. Why can’t we be humanitarian?
Why can’t we be a little more conscientious? Why can’t we be outrageous? Why don’t
we resist? Why do we let it happen? Why the parents or the husband have no fear
of consequences when they kill? Where is their humanity? Why even the police
refuse to do their duty? Why the doctors, the human gods, play with lives for
money? Why even the neighbours or the relatives of such heinous criminals do
nothing? Why, even the men are so indifferent to this issue? Why all such awareness events have 99% women attendees? Just because they don’t want any trouble in their peaceful lives?
As
Rita Banerji points out, if we could just accept our responsibility in having
allowed things to go horribly wrong, half the battle would be won. To me, even
having to justify that women shouldn’t be killed feels inhuman. And sometimes I
tend to feel guilty about not being able to solve all the problems myself. I feel
guilty of having the privileges I have while my own kind is being systematically
annihilated from the face of the earth. But
then, I reason, I can do only what I can do. And so do all of us. We can take
our discussions out of our kitty parties to a larger number of people. All of
us have numerous acquaintances of all classes: the positive of being in India. We
can talk to all of them, we can try to understand their notions, try to make
them see the horrors of it too. The next time we see dowry being asked, we can
put a stop to it. The next time we see our maid’s daughter giving proxy for her
by cutting the school, we can put a stop to it. If we just could be happy with
whatever we have and not greed for more, we can put a stop to the horror. If we
suspect something wrong in any of the household we know, instead of letting
them be, we can confront them. If we each do our own small shares, whatever we
can, it would still have a huge impact.
If
we all do it, and succeed, and then the people whom we spoke to, do it to more
people and succeed- the chain reaction would be enough to eradicate the
horrible curse of gendercide off our lives. If we could just curb our wants a
little, we can be a normal balanced society. Give our daughters a better future
and give our sons a better life too.
So
let’s join hand in hand and make the three deadly words, “it’s a girl” full of
joy, just the way it is supposed to be.
Love,
Riot of Random
at TEDxGateway about the new word called gendercide and its implications. As I watch,
I start to feel nauseated.
A
woman somewhere in South India smiles and enacts how she killed eight of her
new-borns just because she was a girl. She has no sign of remorse when she
shows the home made graveyard where she buried all eight of them. Makes you shiver. Does it not? But it’s
hardly unique. Chances are - you are all too familiar with different versions
of the same story.
If you are girl (I know you
didn’t have any control over it), then you are a criminal and you deserve to be
punished. If you were lucky not to be killed when you were but a foetus, or a little
girl, if you were not given less food, education or playtime compared to your
brother, if you were not raped, abused, if you somehow made it to getting
married then also your dowry has to be adequate, else, you may never rest in
peace in your husband’s house, may even die a dowry death.
In our country sons are assets
and daughters are liabilities. Quite literally. For when a daughter is born,
parents have to start saving right away, for the dowry of her marriage. A son,
on the other hand, is valued; because he will, after all, be the pension of old
age and also there will be a probability of earning a huge sum through the
dowry.
As
a result “it’s a girl” are considered the three deadliest words. And, right
now, 200 millions of women are missing in India and China. That’s eight zeroes
after two. Can you even begin to fathom the enormity of the number? Well, here’s
a staggering statistic from Evan Grae Davis
to help you understand: 200 million is more than all of the deaths of World War
l, World War ll and all the major battles of the 20th century combined. It’s
more than the number of people killed in all of the major genocides of the 20th
century combined.
Do
you now understand what a sinner our society is? But gendercide is only the
peak of the iceberg. As more number of girls are killed, the highly skewed sex
ratio triggers many other crimes: human trafficking being the most important of
them. Couples don’t want daughters but they want daughters-in-law to produce
them yet another male heir. Hence millions of girls are abducted each year,
often in their childhood and sold to other families as their future daughters-in-law.
In India there are several villages where there hasn’t been a single female
birth in generations. Horrific!
What is the reason behind this brutality?
Many
would argue education. But is it really? We have women stationed in every position
imaginable. From the highest posts in the democracy to the grass root level
social worker. Some others would argue poverty. But then again, we have so many
incidents of influential families not wanting girl children and forcing their
daughters-in-law to abort.
What
is it then? According to me it’s the deep sense of patriarchy rooted in our
psyche for many centuries. It’s the belief that girls are simply not good
enough, no matter what they might achieve.
And
greed! We Indians may preach ourselves as peaceful and simple human beings, but
our greed knows no bar! We can do anything for money. We can even kill our
daughters in order to save us the dowry money.
And
the farce of the law system. We have a law present for everything! Child
marriage is banned, dowry is illegal, sex determination of foetus is unlawful.
But who cares? Neither the common people, nor the law enforcers.
And
the greed again. To a point that it eclipses all sense of morality. Doctors are
happy to tell the sex of the foetus in exchange of a large sum of money and
conveniently ignore the fact that it may lead to abortion. Police is least
bothered to investigate a suspicious death of the young daughter-in-law of a
family if no monetary gain is promised. An IAS officer doesn’t mind to boast
that his position entitles him to a huge dowry.
In
all, it becomes a vicious cycle. As the sex ratio continues to be more skewed,
crimes like rapes grow in number. As these crimes grow in number, parents
become more apathetic towards having a girl child. And it goes on. No one addresses
the real problem. The whole nation sleeps through when the worst form of
violence takes away the lives of millions of women.
What can we do?
Honestly?
Everything. It’s not much being asked for. We all are just becoming animals under our
humanoid masks. Anything that doesn’t disturb our interests doesn’t bother us. If
we could only identify more with the form we wear in our daily lives we could
stop this barbarity easily.
We
are human after all, the most superior species on the earth. Why can’t we be humanitarian?
Why can’t we be a little more conscientious? Why can’t we be outrageous? Why don’t
we resist? Why do we let it happen? Why the parents or the husband have no fear
of consequences when they kill? Where is their humanity? Why even the police
refuse to do their duty? Why the doctors, the human gods, play with lives for
money? Why even the neighbours or the relatives of such heinous criminals do
nothing? Why, even the men are so indifferent to this issue? Why all such awareness events have 99% women attendees? Just because they don’t want any trouble in their peaceful lives?
As
Rita Banerji points out, if we could just accept our responsibility in having
allowed things to go horribly wrong, half the battle would be won. To me, even
having to justify that women shouldn’t be killed feels inhuman. And sometimes I
tend to feel guilty about not being able to solve all the problems myself. I feel
guilty of having the privileges I have while my own kind is being systematically
annihilated from the face of the earth. But
then, I reason, I can do only what I can do. And so do all of us. We can take
our discussions out of our kitty parties to a larger number of people. All of
us have numerous acquaintances of all classes: the positive of being in India. We
can talk to all of them, we can try to understand their notions, try to make
them see the horrors of it too. The next time we see dowry being asked, we can
put a stop to it. The next time we see our maid’s daughter giving proxy for her
by cutting the school, we can put a stop to it. If we just could be happy with
whatever we have and not greed for more, we can put a stop to the horror. If we
suspect something wrong in any of the household we know, instead of letting
them be, we can confront them. If we each do our own small shares, whatever we
can, it would still have a huge impact.
If
we all do it, and succeed, and then the people whom we spoke to, do it to more
people and succeed- the chain reaction would be enough to eradicate the
horrible curse of gendercide off our lives. If we could just curb our wants a
little, we can be a normal balanced society. Give our daughters a better future
and give our sons a better life too.
So
let’s join hand in hand and make the three deadly words, “it’s a girl” full of
joy, just the way it is supposed to be.
Love,
This post is written as part of Indiblogger's IdeaCaravan in association with Franklin Templeton Asset Management (India) Pvt. Ltd. Franklin Templeton Investments partnered the TEDxGateway Mumbai in December 2012. Watch the speakers narrate their riveting stories of innovation on www.ftideacaravan.com.
© copyright 2012 – All rights reserved
Riot of Random
July 25, 2013
Acute Shortage of Managers! Are You Vying?
A Silicon India daily dose in my inbox
told me that there is an acute shortage of IT managers. Such was my shock that I
almost suffered a heart attack. With over a hundred thousands of vacancies, my worst fear has
come true. The corporate IT hierarchy is finally going to look like a diamond
instead of an inverted tree.
Anyway,
now that there is such a huge demand, supply should be there too. And if you,
by any chance, are aspiring to fulfill one of those positions then here’s a
guide you may follow:
1) Don’t
be scared to apply if you haven’t been to any management
institution. If you are old enough and know how to scroll through a PowerPoint
slideshow, you are ok. Oh, memorizing few terminologies used to make a basic spread
sheet (MS Excel) would be preferable.
2) Once
on the job, stop working, start delegating. You have the liberty to present the
techies with the vaguest/stupidest idea you googled and ask them to make
castles out of it
3) While
the techies are at it, you are entitled for a leisurely break. But god forbid
anyone whom you catch sneaking a break
4) After
returning from the break, send an email asking for the status and keep sending
them once in every half hour or between breaks (whichever is sooner)
5) Meanwhile,
call some of the trainees, who were spared from the wrath of your ideas, and
give them the task of making you a report that you have to present to your
boss. Here the MS Excel terminologies that you memorized before applying to
your position will come in handy to intimidate the poor engineering graduates
6) At
the end of the day take credit for these works
7) But
always blame others if anything goes wrong
8) Call
meetings and say mumbo jumbos that make no sense to anyone. Chances are the more jargon you use, the bigger promotions you get
9) Don’t
feel threatened by the technical architects who know their work better than you
do. You are their manager after all. Develop a sadist attitude around them. It
always helps. Considering them as humans is the biggest mistake you can ever
make
10) Become used to the privileges. You are
the manager. Your subordinates must show you respect everywhere. Even outside the
office when you are not their managers
If you think you have it in you, then hurry up and grab the opportunity of a lifetime to make a living out of bullying others and yet be considered as white collared!
Love,
© copyright 2012 – All rights reserved
Riot of Random
July 21, 2013
The Perfect Road Trip - Till the End of the Road
Every now and then life gets
complicated and you need to escape. Even though nobody needs an excuse to
escape, sometimes it serves as the right incentive. Whether you are just
bored or your mother-in-law is visiting or your craving for adventure is really
getting strong, a road trip is the answer to everything that can be your excuse
to get away. You can carry your curiosity and sense of adventure with you and
the let the diversion en route add to the sensation.
My idea of a perfect road trip is
pretty simple: the Himalayas, my husband and his camera and a sturdy SUV.
Mountains fascinate me, especially the Himalayas. If I have time for a trip, I
always inadvertently end up planning a trip around the rocky terrain of the
Himalayas. My favourite is the North East India – not much explored yet, thus
provides an unspoiled charm.
Yet, this time was more special, for
we went, just the two of us, first time ever, to explore the majestic
mountains, just the way we would like. We started from the city of Gangtok in
Sikkim. We were going to drive north wards. We were going to go as far as we
could drive. We were going to literally go till the end of the road.
Immediately after we started the
scenery began to change. The city soon gave way to the dense green of Deodar
and Pine on one side of the road and solid rocky structure of the mountain on
the other. White prayer flags that lined the road lent a mystic charm to the atmosphere.
The fresh mountain air filled our
lungs. Probably it was the reason why we were so terribly hungry within a couple
of hours into our journey. We stopped at a roadside joint – a small home
actually, where the family sold momos. We loaded ourselves with the tastiest momos
I had ever had and set on the road again. Lunch was also similarly served by
another family. It was a simple meal of rice, dal and cabbage curry but yet we
felt we had tasted nothing better.
As we drove further the road became
narrower and the evening was already descending. It had rained the previous day
but the cloud still hovered around us. It was chilly and it made no sense to
keep driving in the dark. So we stopped to stay the night in the only village we
spotted and asked around for accommodation. It turned out, almost all the
houses in the village provided tourist accommodation for a nominal charge.
Our host, Mr. Shiring provided us with
hot water, warm blankets and dinner of steaming rice and home cooked chicken.
Next morning we started the second
half of our journey at 5. It was still dark. The road ahead was fully covered
with snow and we could spot the track of only a single vehicle before us. As we
drove on, the raw beauty of the nature mesmerized us.
We passed several hairpin curves. We crossed
an army camp.
As we drove steadily upward, we
spotted the Yumthang peak of the mountain turning golden with the first
sunrays. It was a breath taking sight.
We crossed the Yumthang valley covered in fog and
went on. We kept driving until suddenly we reached a plateau and there was no
further motor-able road to go on. We had reached the zero point. Here we met a
group of three friends from the only other vehicle whose tracks we had followed.
The cloud had cleared and it was a
bright sunny morning. We took in the rocky, naked beauty of the mountain as
much as we could. There we were, at the end of the world, where nobody sane
came. After a while when the snow melted and the rocks started to heat up, we
started our journey down.
The veil of the thick fog that had
covered the Yumthang valley on our way up had lifted now leaving the vast
expanse of the valley sprawl ahead of us.
As we stopped there for photography,
we spotted few public convenience cottages. But no one was there, because
apparently, it was off season.
As we proceeded even downward, we
skipped stopping for meals and ate our own supply of food that we had carried
with us.
We had had the adventure we were
looking for, and, now was the time to get back. But apparently the surprises
were not over. A few hours down the way, we suddenly heard sounds of
explosions. It grew louder as we went. We took it to be the sound of dynamites
being used to open up the mountain to make way. But it turned out to be a landslide!
The road was completely blocked and we
stood there idle for six hours. The road wasn’t wide enough to turn back and
was closed ahead to move forward! A beeline of vehicles formed behind us as the
cranes cleaned up the road.
When we finally reached Gangtok it was
well after 11 in the night. We were tired, exhausted and famished. Yet we were
strangely satisfied. We had spent two days in the heart of the nature and we had met some wonderful people who lived in perfect harmony with the nature and to whom guests were indeed synonymous with God. It was the best road trip I had ever taken.
It was one of those road trips where
nature’s sights and sounds keep you so busy and wide eyed that you forget to
put the music player in your car on. It was that ultimate road trip that ended
with the road itself and then began with it. It was the road trip that would
always define itself as perfect in my head in terms of companion, route and
destination. It was the road trip that would always be special because it gave
me memories I would like to relive again and again and yet again.
Love,
This post is written for "The Perfect Road Trip" contest in Indiblogger sponsored by Ambi Pur. To know more about them please visit, facebook.com/AmbiPurIndia
© copyright 2012 – All rights reserved
Riot of Random
July 20, 2013
Of Blushes and Accidents!
This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.
Wham! A deafening sound of crunched metal. Followed by a
whoosh. Even before I can react, my head is bumped against the front seat. The
car jolts to a stop. A black veil descends and I lose my consciousness.
Probably
only a few seconds. Cannot be more than that. Because when I open my eyes, I am
still on my seat. The cab driver struggles with the air bag. A SUV stands in
front of the cab with a dimpled rear. My head hurts and makes me dizzy. It all vaguely
comes back to me. It was all because of me. I can’t help but blame myself. If only
I’d behaved like a sensible human being. But I should probably start at the
beginning.
***
I’d had
a very bad day. The non-consequential work related stuff but enough to make me
irritable by the time it was over. I
decided to go ahead with my long due grocery shopping with the hope of getting
at least some things done. I called the local taxi service and booked my ride.
The taxi
driver who came to pick me up was a young guy with a very handsome face. He
smiled and greeted me with a cheerful, “Hello sunshine”, when I reached for the
door.
I wastoo distracted to properly respond. So I merely grunted something. He scowled a
little at me but kept silent otherwise. A little while later he started talking
again. He told me that he was a student of history at the University of Chicago
and had read a lot about India and was very fond of Indians. Though pleasantly
surprised I was still very far from feeling any better about it. Yet again, I grunted
in affirmative and went back to looking outside the window. He continued his
small talk while I vaguely wondered why he was flirting with me. I definitely didn’t
look like a wealthy customer to tip him generously.
But he
caught me completely off guard by what he said next, “You are very pretty.”
I was
taken aback. After all, it wasn’t every day that I received compliments from
handsome white men! Why, these days I rarely got any real compliment from even my
husband. Only except maybe when I was really dressed up, he hardly noticed how I
looked anymore. So in spite of everything I felt good! And I blushed!
“Oh, you
just blushed. Didn’t you?” exclaimed he, his eyes fixed on the rear view mirror.
I smiled
embarrassedly. It was very awkward.
He
whirled back from his seat and said, “You really are very pretty. Will you go
on a lunch date with me? I have an hour’s break in class. I work nights so cant
invite you for dinner. Please don’t say your daddy won’t allow.”
It was
the second shock in two minutes. Till now, I had known such drama to be
possible only in movies. It was a little unnerving to experience it in real
life. Words failed me as I looked at him. But then it struck me. Such a nice
guy he was. Sensing that my day hadn’t been so good he was just trying to cheer
me up. I was so touched by his kind behaviour.
I smiled
and thanked him and said that I was sufficiently cheered up now. But he
insisted that he was serious about the lunch date and wasn’t merely trying to
cheer me up. Feeling a little perplexed I told him, in that case I was sorry
but I was married.
He took
both of his hands off the steering wheel in mock frustration and at that
precise moment a silver SUV came in front of us. I screamed to draw his notice but
before he could do anything, we had hit the car.
***
“Can I drop
you off here?” the cab driver asks.
“What?”
I ask, still feeling a little dizzy.
“Your
store’s round the corner. You could walk. It will take me some time to get done
with the police reports and other formalities.”
I feel
really bad for him. “Of course I can walk but are you sure you can handle?”
“Absolutely.
Don’t worry. You carry on.” He assures.
I start
walking. He calls back and says, “Don’t forget the lunch date. Your husband won’t
mind, I am sure. After all, you broke my car.”
And I blush again, in spite of everything and the dizziness.
Moral of the story: Never encourage/engage your driver in
nonsense talks. You may not be lucky like me to survive without a scratch. And if
you still do, be ready to pay the price. Again, you may not be lucky like me to
get away with a lunch date with a handsome guy.
Love,
© copyright 2012 – All rights reserved
Riot of Random
July 18, 2013
Falling in Love!
Love, o love! A
simple plan of four letters conveys such a powerful emotion. Love comes in all
shapes and sizes, it comes to all. Even with so much hatred all around, there’s
no escape from love. From your mother’s love for you to your love for shoes,
you can’t really say that love eludes you.
But of course, no
love compares with Falling-in-Love. Even
though falling is a derogatory word
in itself, nothing’s so belittling about it.
It is in fact a high that even the drug “ecstasy” can’t give. And
irrespective of how much you are surrounded by all different kinds of love of
varying degrees, a little part of yours will always pine to experience that
glorified fall, even though your last
fall wasn’t that great and left you
little bruised.
Such a mystery it is,
that the entire population of the World’s poets and song writers are still
unable to solve it even after dedicating their whole lives to this purpose. It’s
a tough nut that even science can’t crack!
It’s highly
delusional as well. Those who have actually fallen are under the conviction
that the feeling is unique to them and no one else in the world ever has
experienced such an elevated emotion, even though, quite possibly the person
sitting next to them is going through the same stupor. They look around them
and the whole world seems to converge in their beloved. The hot summer may feel
like first monsoon while the winter may seem unbearably hot depending on the
degree of closeness with their beloved. For some far goners the moon may even
resemble the face of their beloved. Even bigger things, like jumping mountains,
swimming seas, slaying dragons start to seem logical.
Those who haven’t
fallen yet, but are willing to fall, are delusional that not falling is the
root cause of all their problems. They believe, once they fall, the world will
magically correct itself. They dream of riding on a horse back to the smoky
horizon with the Prince Charming or the Princess Enchanting and that everything
would be happy ever after. Well, in modern times riding maybe replaced by
driving a sleek car but you get the idea.
But that’s not the
only side effect. “The fall” may even bring about some physical and
characteristic changes. For example, someone who was never able to memorize
“Twinkle, twinkle, little star” in school, may suddenly find himself reciting
Keats flawlessly. A cool dude may suddenly start preferring star gazing to club
hopping.
Muscles around the
jaw may become permanently flexed and it may seem extremely difficult to close
the mouth to keep the teeth from showing. In most cases though, it’s the cranial
nerve that suffers the most. Often, it fails to intercept a perfectly normal
visual information and distorts it with a rosy tint. Physical pain may even
occur at the thought of a minute’s separation.
Yet perhaps the
biggest side effect of “the fall” is the green monster that makes a permanent
nest in the lovestruck’s heart. Even the oh-so-powerful
gods are rendered powerless before it. History is the witness of the many such
tales of jealousy and arrows. A simple text message in your beloved’s phone can
prove sufficient to let the monster loose.
Some other baggage
like negligence of other people around, reduced reasoning and, disregard of one’s
duties are also possible.
Scary Huh! But in
spite of all these, nothing has yet been discovered/invented that could deter
people from falling in love and save the world all the pain. But don’t let my
rant do it to you, for trust me it’s a beautiful thing: that heady rush of
newly found love. It’s worth all the side effects it comes with. Go ahead and
fall in love. As hard as you can. Because it’s a beautiful feeling.
Love,
P.S: This post is based on observations I am often making on the streets of the city. It seems everyone is madly in love and they keep doing crazy things fully oblivious to the world around them. It’s fascinating to watch. And sometimes my husband and I share a fond smile when we spot something similar from the olden days when we were newly in love.
Riot of Random
simple plan of four letters conveys such a powerful emotion. Love comes in all
shapes and sizes, it comes to all. Even with so much hatred all around, there’s
no escape from love. From your mother’s love for you to your love for shoes,
you can’t really say that love eludes you.
But of course, no
love compares with Falling-in-Love. Even
though falling is a derogatory word
in itself, nothing’s so belittling about it.
It is in fact a high that even the drug “ecstasy” can’t give. And
irrespective of how much you are surrounded by all different kinds of love of
varying degrees, a little part of yours will always pine to experience that
glorified fall, even though your last
fall wasn’t that great and left you
little bruised.
Such a mystery it is,
that the entire population of the World’s poets and song writers are still
unable to solve it even after dedicating their whole lives to this purpose. It’s
a tough nut that even science can’t crack!
It’s highly
delusional as well. Those who have actually fallen are under the conviction
that the feeling is unique to them and no one else in the world ever has
experienced such an elevated emotion, even though, quite possibly the person
sitting next to them is going through the same stupor. They look around them
and the whole world seems to converge in their beloved. The hot summer may feel
like first monsoon while the winter may seem unbearably hot depending on the
degree of closeness with their beloved. For some far goners the moon may even
resemble the face of their beloved. Even bigger things, like jumping mountains,
swimming seas, slaying dragons start to seem logical.
Those who haven’t
fallen yet, but are willing to fall, are delusional that not falling is the
root cause of all their problems. They believe, once they fall, the world will
magically correct itself. They dream of riding on a horse back to the smoky
horizon with the Prince Charming or the Princess Enchanting and that everything
would be happy ever after. Well, in modern times riding maybe replaced by
driving a sleek car but you get the idea.
But that’s not the
only side effect. “The fall” may even bring about some physical and
characteristic changes. For example, someone who was never able to memorize
“Twinkle, twinkle, little star” in school, may suddenly find himself reciting
Keats flawlessly. A cool dude may suddenly start preferring star gazing to club
hopping.
Muscles around the
jaw may become permanently flexed and it may seem extremely difficult to close
the mouth to keep the teeth from showing. In most cases though, it’s the cranial
nerve that suffers the most. Often, it fails to intercept a perfectly normal
visual information and distorts it with a rosy tint. Physical pain may even
occur at the thought of a minute’s separation.
Yet perhaps the
biggest side effect of “the fall” is the green monster that makes a permanent
nest in the lovestruck’s heart. Even the oh-so-powerful
gods are rendered powerless before it. History is the witness of the many such
tales of jealousy and arrows. A simple text message in your beloved’s phone can
prove sufficient to let the monster loose.
Some other baggage
like negligence of other people around, reduced reasoning and, disregard of one’s
duties are also possible.
Scary Huh! But in
spite of all these, nothing has yet been discovered/invented that could deter
people from falling in love and save the world all the pain. But don’t let my
rant do it to you, for trust me it’s a beautiful thing: that heady rush of
newly found love. It’s worth all the side effects it comes with. Go ahead and
fall in love. As hard as you can. Because it’s a beautiful feeling.
Love,
P.S: This post is based on observations I am often making on the streets of the city. It seems everyone is madly in love and they keep doing crazy things fully oblivious to the world around them. It’s fascinating to watch. And sometimes my husband and I share a fond smile when we spot something similar from the olden days when we were newly in love.
© copyright 2012 – All rights reserved
Riot of Random
July 10, 2013
Lootera loots my heart!
I am not a big fan of movies. I like so few of them! Evenfewer inspires me to actually write about it. So when I went to watch Lootera,
in a deserted theatre with only two other present as the audience, little did I
know that it was going to be one of them.
For
those, who haven’t seen it yet, please do as soon as you can. I had read O’Henry’s
The Last Leaf as part of my XII th English course. Lootera’s conclusion is
based on the story. If you are too tired of Bollywood’s run-of-the-mill
melodrama, this one will give you a nice break. With subtleties of a period
romance this one is no doubt one of best films ever made in Bollywood.
All great literatures are simple stories actually. Their
greatness lies in the way their author tells them. It took me Lootera to
understand that movies were no exception. The film has a thin plotline of the clichéd
story of a rich and educated girl falling for an unworthy guy, the inevitable
hurt and the final redemption. It has, in fact, become a bitter lemon from too
much squeezing. But yet all it took was the director’s vision to make it one of
the best films I have ever watched.
It was a
nice revelation. Really. Without any of the Bollywood’s signature over the top
melodrama, glam and glitz this film tugs nicely at heart. It’s not effortless
but well worth the effort.
I had never known a Bollywood film to be so subtle in the
tête-à-tête of its two protagonists. They never sing songs running around the
trees (mind you there were plenty of trees available) changing costumes in
every paragraph of the song. Instead they converse. In their conversation too,
there is no romance, yet it is there, hovering before them, poised, and waiting
to happen. And you can feel it. Indeed, silently expressed emotions ARE the USP
of the film.
It was also surprisingly pleasant that two people who are
still green in their years and so far have been seen only in typical Bollywood
shaking and dancing taking up the challenges these roles had to offer. If you
want to know about how they have done justice to their roles, how beautiful the
sets were and how authentic the period recreation was, there are many more
reviews available from more credible sources. I won’t waste your time here.
My rambling is different. After this film I am hopeful
again for mainstream Indian Cinema. Previously this type of filmmaking would
have been easily termed as Art Film. No “hero” or “heroine” would have taken up
such projects. It feels great to see educated, intelligent filmmaking being
accepted in mainstream Bollywood. It’s refreshing that producers like Balaji, who
normally produce films like Golmaal, are coming forward to take up such
projects! It’s wonderful that young actors are preferring serious acting more than
glamorous heroism. It seems finally after 100 years Bollywood has found its
direction. It's true that it will take time for the audience, which has been fed so much on crap, to come around, but at least it's started!
Love,
© copyright 2012 – All rights reserved
Riot of Random
July 1, 2013
A Desi Girl in Videsh (Living in America) - III
Solitude!
I come from India - a land which is
home to 1.2 Billion people. I lived in a city - a place where roadside
aesthetics are the families who live there with their swollen-belly children
and bare-ribs dogs. I had a small home – an apartment where even the closed
doors couldn’t block out the various types of sounds that rose from the passing
traffic. Why, I even became uncommonly skilled to identify the vehicle just by
listening to its honk. I lived by myself but was never alone for a single
second.
Now I have come to a country which is
three times as large as India but has a population of only 300 million. Now I
live in a city where red and white tulips adorn the sidewalk. The only sound
that enters even through the open windows is quacking of ducks that live in the
lake behind.
When I moved to the US, I brought my
third world disposition along with me. The first world notion was very new and I
was bombarded with one cultural shock after another. The most shocking part of
it probably was the complete absence of noise. The chaotic cacophony of various
sounds on which my daily survival dwelt on was now gone. Instead it was
replaced by such an absolute silence that I had, quite a few times in the
beginning, taken a sudden conscious look around me, just to ensure that
everything was indeed fine and in place.
In India I could not dream of getting
a step in an escalator in a mall to myself entirely; here sometimes I am uncomfortably
aware of standing alone on an entire escalator in the train station. Inside the
train people speak but with a surprising ability to keep the silence untouched.
On the streets of Chicago downtown cabs sometimes honk half-heartedly at a
careless pedestrian but not with Indian drivers’ alarming urgency and respectfully
stop and wait for him to clear the road.
It’s
only now that I have slowly started being accustomed with the silence. Its only
now that I have started appreciating the greenery of my neighbourhood, the
meticulousness of the jogger’s park, the picturesque sidewalk by the clean
green Chicago River in the Michigan Ave (Amazingly, I don’t see any maintenance
crew ever, yet, everything continues to be immaculately kept).
I
sometimes take a long solitary walk in the jogger’s park. Sometimes I just sit by the river watching the rowers rowing
their narrow canoes. It seems perfectly ok to be sitting or walking alone
without any company in total silence. It feels almost meditative. And I feel
alone well. I feel luxuriously immersed in doings of my own choice. I feel
aware so fully of my own presence rather than of the absence of others.
And
thus after long last, the desi girl in me found the way to solitude! It’s
through the silence of videsh.
Love,
Riot of Random
I come from India - a land which is
home to 1.2 Billion people. I lived in a city - a place where roadside
aesthetics are the families who live there with their swollen-belly children
and bare-ribs dogs. I had a small home – an apartment where even the closed
doors couldn’t block out the various types of sounds that rose from the passing
traffic. Why, I even became uncommonly skilled to identify the vehicle just by
listening to its honk. I lived by myself but was never alone for a single
second.
Now I have come to a country which is
three times as large as India but has a population of only 300 million. Now I
live in a city where red and white tulips adorn the sidewalk. The only sound
that enters even through the open windows is quacking of ducks that live in the
lake behind.
When I moved to the US, I brought my
third world disposition along with me. The first world notion was very new and I
was bombarded with one cultural shock after another. The most shocking part of
it probably was the complete absence of noise. The chaotic cacophony of various
sounds on which my daily survival dwelt on was now gone. Instead it was
replaced by such an absolute silence that I had, quite a few times in the
beginning, taken a sudden conscious look around me, just to ensure that
everything was indeed fine and in place.
In India I could not dream of getting
a step in an escalator in a mall to myself entirely; here sometimes I am uncomfortably
aware of standing alone on an entire escalator in the train station. Inside the
train people speak but with a surprising ability to keep the silence untouched.
On the streets of Chicago downtown cabs sometimes honk half-heartedly at a
careless pedestrian but not with Indian drivers’ alarming urgency and respectfully
stop and wait for him to clear the road.
It’s
only now that I have slowly started being accustomed with the silence. Its only
now that I have started appreciating the greenery of my neighbourhood, the
meticulousness of the jogger’s park, the picturesque sidewalk by the clean
green Chicago River in the Michigan Ave (Amazingly, I don’t see any maintenance
crew ever, yet, everything continues to be immaculately kept).
I
sometimes take a long solitary walk in the jogger’s park. Sometimes I just sit by the river watching the rowers rowing
their narrow canoes. It seems perfectly ok to be sitting or walking alone
without any company in total silence. It feels almost meditative. And I feel
alone well. I feel luxuriously immersed in doings of my own choice. I feel
aware so fully of my own presence rather than of the absence of others.
And
thus after long last, the desi girl in me found the way to solitude! It’s
through the silence of videsh.
Love,
© copyright 2012 – All rights reserved
Riot of Random
June 24, 2013
A Dark Tale - A Story - Part II
This is the concluding part. You can read the first part of the story here.
Rani woke up from the splashes of rain on her
skin and the sound of loud thundering. She didn’t know what time it was but
judging by how little rested she felt it shouldn’t be dawn yet. The room was
dark; the power was out. She sat up and looked outside the open window.
A tropical storm was blowing in full force. She
had always liked storms but something didn’t feel right about this one. The
lightning was so frequent that the sky looked a permanent blinding white. A
baby was crying somewhere, no, wait, that was the wind blowing through the
Eucalyptus trees. It was raining but not very hard. A dog, no, rather a few of
them were crying pitifully. But there was another sound, it rose quickly but
steadily. Soon within seconds it was the loudest sound of all – the sound of
the wind and the thunder were drowned by the deafening water waves crashing
against the banks.
Bewildered, Rani looked at her roommate Mads
wanting to wake her up. But she was up already. She had a strange look on her
face as she stared outside the window. Her eyes were vacant and her face white.
“They are out there, aren’t they?” she said in a hoarse tone.
“What? What are you talking about?”, Rani
rebuked her for saying out loud in precise words what she was feeling inside,
“Come help me close the window.”
But the window wouldn’t close. No matter how
hard they both tried to pull it shut, it just didn’t budge. Suddenly lightning
struck a Eucalyptus just outside the window and the rain-wet tree started burning.
A couple of seconds later the lightning struck again. A different tree this
time. A heart wrenching cry followed, most probably from the other side of the
lake.
“Let’s go out and see what others are doing?
Shall we?” Rani’s choked voice came out in gasps. They both jumped off their
beds and wrenched the door open. Rashmi stood outside looking pale.
“Did you hear it too? I was not sure whether
to wake you up or not. It sounds so silly to be afraid of a storm.” Rashmi was
alone in her room tonight, her roommate wouldn’t return till tomorrow.
The three of them went to the common room on
the third floor to find half the population of their first year hostel present
there. “Did you hear the woman cry?” few of them were discussing.
So they heard it, they heard it too. And they
too thought the cry was not normal. Rani proceeded gingerly to the closed
window. If she could only open the window once she would be able to see the
lake, she would be able to see why it was so loud tonight. This room provided a
magnificent view of the lake.
“Are you out of your mind? Don’t open the
window. Everyone is terrified here.” Mads shouted at her. She had taken refuge
at the furthest corner of the room on a low cane stool. But Rani had to see,
she had to see the lake. It must be a fascinating sight, she thought, given the
deafening sound of the waves. She ignored the next few feeble protests as well.
A few other girls, overcome by curiosity followed her. Rani pushed the window
open.
It was an amazing sight. Even more farfetched
than she had imagined. The lake looked nothing less than a vast sea. Huge white
foamy waves rose and fell and made a sound unbelievably loud. It was an eerie
sight, dangerous but somehow beautiful too. For everyone seemed to have been
hypnotized. No one moved, no one spoke.
And then it happened.
It was as if the nature turned off a switch. The
blinding white of the sky went black. Not gradually, instantly. And at that
very moment Rani felt an irresistible urge to visit the lake. Even though she
knew in her head that it was dangerous, insane even, but it was as if something
was pulling her, a bond so strong that she couldn’t ignore even if she wanted
to. She started retreating slowly from the window, quickly calculating the
easiest exit: the main gate will be locked. The rear gate will probably be
locked too. The roof, yes the roof, if she could go up to the roof and then
jump from there- yes that’s it.
“Where are you going?” Mads asked sceptically.
She hadn’t moved from her stool.
“Going back to sleep. I am feeling very
tired.” Rani murmured and walked out. She climbed the stairs to the roof,
climbed the stairs to the high water tank. As she stood swaying in the storm there,
happiness filled her. She could see pinpricks of lights glowing in the dark on
the other side of the lake. She could hear a faint sound of chanting between
the waves. A woman cried, there, again, a heart wrenching cry, asking out for
help. She must help her, but the lake was so beautiful, what could she do, how
could she leave it be? She took another step forward to the edge of the tank.
So beautiful, so beautiful, she must go, she must go to the lake, she mustn’t let
go of this opportunity now, she must jump, but the woman, she needed help, wasn’t
there anyone to help her? But she mustn’t think about her. The chant was
growing louder, or was it the lake receding? There wasn’t much time to waste. There
was a loud thud, a thump and then a splash. The unknown woman pleaded for help
once again. Rani jumped.
***
Years later, even today, when Rani thought
about it, she still shuddered. She had been found that night (thanks to Mads),
unconscious, miraculously unhurt except minor bruises and a deep cut along her left
brow and knee, probably due to the soft mud and rotting leaves bed. She couldn’t
explain why she was there and how she turned up there. All she remembered were
the woman crying for help and the chanting.
During her four years in college, teachers
and students always maintained an almost imperceptible distance, for she caught
them many times looking at her when they thought she didn’t know. Mads almost
never left her alone, for Rani’s parents had requested so. Rani tried to convince
herself that the day had never happened but the two burnt Eucalyptus continued
to stand unperturbed and undisturbed by the many storms and rains that followed
in the next four years as the omnipresent proof of the reality of the night. She
visited the village on the other side of the lake many times, looking for an
explanation. But when she asked questions, the villagers only looked at her
with a strange scandalous stare but never talked.
Love,
Riot of Random
Rani woke up from the splashes of rain on her
skin and the sound of loud thundering. She didn’t know what time it was but
judging by how little rested she felt it shouldn’t be dawn yet. The room was
dark; the power was out. She sat up and looked outside the open window.
A tropical storm was blowing in full force. She
had always liked storms but something didn’t feel right about this one. The
lightning was so frequent that the sky looked a permanent blinding white. A
baby was crying somewhere, no, wait, that was the wind blowing through the
Eucalyptus trees. It was raining but not very hard. A dog, no, rather a few of
them were crying pitifully. But there was another sound, it rose quickly but
steadily. Soon within seconds it was the loudest sound of all – the sound of
the wind and the thunder were drowned by the deafening water waves crashing
against the banks.
Bewildered, Rani looked at her roommate Mads
wanting to wake her up. But she was up already. She had a strange look on her
face as she stared outside the window. Her eyes were vacant and her face white.
“They are out there, aren’t they?” she said in a hoarse tone.
“What? What are you talking about?”, Rani
rebuked her for saying out loud in precise words what she was feeling inside,
“Come help me close the window.”
But the window wouldn’t close. No matter how
hard they both tried to pull it shut, it just didn’t budge. Suddenly lightning
struck a Eucalyptus just outside the window and the rain-wet tree started burning.
A couple of seconds later the lightning struck again. A different tree this
time. A heart wrenching cry followed, most probably from the other side of the
lake.
“Let’s go out and see what others are doing?
Shall we?” Rani’s choked voice came out in gasps. They both jumped off their
beds and wrenched the door open. Rashmi stood outside looking pale.
“Did you hear it too? I was not sure whether
to wake you up or not. It sounds so silly to be afraid of a storm.” Rashmi was
alone in her room tonight, her roommate wouldn’t return till tomorrow.
The three of them went to the common room on
the third floor to find half the population of their first year hostel present
there. “Did you hear the woman cry?” few of them were discussing.
So they heard it, they heard it too. And they
too thought the cry was not normal. Rani proceeded gingerly to the closed
window. If she could only open the window once she would be able to see the
lake, she would be able to see why it was so loud tonight. This room provided a
magnificent view of the lake.
“Are you out of your mind? Don’t open the
window. Everyone is terrified here.” Mads shouted at her. She had taken refuge
at the furthest corner of the room on a low cane stool. But Rani had to see,
she had to see the lake. It must be a fascinating sight, she thought, given the
deafening sound of the waves. She ignored the next few feeble protests as well.
A few other girls, overcome by curiosity followed her. Rani pushed the window
open.
It was an amazing sight. Even more farfetched
than she had imagined. The lake looked nothing less than a vast sea. Huge white
foamy waves rose and fell and made a sound unbelievably loud. It was an eerie
sight, dangerous but somehow beautiful too. For everyone seemed to have been
hypnotized. No one moved, no one spoke.
And then it happened.
It was as if the nature turned off a switch. The
blinding white of the sky went black. Not gradually, instantly. And at that
very moment Rani felt an irresistible urge to visit the lake. Even though she
knew in her head that it was dangerous, insane even, but it was as if something
was pulling her, a bond so strong that she couldn’t ignore even if she wanted
to. She started retreating slowly from the window, quickly calculating the
easiest exit: the main gate will be locked. The rear gate will probably be
locked too. The roof, yes the roof, if she could go up to the roof and then
jump from there- yes that’s it.
“Where are you going?” Mads asked sceptically.
She hadn’t moved from her stool.
“Going back to sleep. I am feeling very
tired.” Rani murmured and walked out. She climbed the stairs to the roof,
climbed the stairs to the high water tank. As she stood swaying in the storm there,
happiness filled her. She could see pinpricks of lights glowing in the dark on
the other side of the lake. She could hear a faint sound of chanting between
the waves. A woman cried, there, again, a heart wrenching cry, asking out for
help. She must help her, but the lake was so beautiful, what could she do, how
could she leave it be? She took another step forward to the edge of the tank.
So beautiful, so beautiful, she must go, she must go to the lake, she mustn’t let
go of this opportunity now, she must jump, but the woman, she needed help, wasn’t
there anyone to help her? But she mustn’t think about her. The chant was
growing louder, or was it the lake receding? There wasn’t much time to waste. There
was a loud thud, a thump and then a splash. The unknown woman pleaded for help
once again. Rani jumped.
***
Years later, even today, when Rani thought
about it, she still shuddered. She had been found that night (thanks to Mads),
unconscious, miraculously unhurt except minor bruises and a deep cut along her left
brow and knee, probably due to the soft mud and rotting leaves bed. She couldn’t
explain why she was there and how she turned up there. All she remembered were
the woman crying for help and the chanting.
During her four years in college, teachers
and students always maintained an almost imperceptible distance, for she caught
them many times looking at her when they thought she didn’t know. Mads almost
never left her alone, for Rani’s parents had requested so. Rani tried to convince
herself that the day had never happened but the two burnt Eucalyptus continued
to stand unperturbed and undisturbed by the many storms and rains that followed
in the next four years as the omnipresent proof of the reality of the night. She
visited the village on the other side of the lake many times, looking for an
explanation. But when she asked questions, the villagers only looked at her
with a strange scandalous stare but never talked.
Love,
© copyright 2012 – All rights reserved
Riot of Random
