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Chaos - Short Story #4

My grandfather was quite an eccentric man. He was full of stories and I was very fond of him. He was a lepidoterologist, someone who studies butterflies and he spent a lot of his time in a butterfly farm. He would sit for hours and stare at these exotic insects. "You know, butterflies were actually called flutterby", he would say filling his pipe with tobacco. He called me Nehu, a more affectionate form of my name, Neha. I was his favourite grandchild too, also because I was the only girl child in the family. I had two elder brothers and my cousins were all males too. My grandfather fought a lot for my rights. His wife expired when she was in her 40's. He wanted me to study and get a good job, go abroad and was against marriage at an early age. It is quite surprising for someone from an older generation to have this ideology. My own parents were narrow minded, not my grandfather, he was a very practical man.  

He died a month ago, he was hospitalised as he had complained of chest pain. When I went to visit him, things had turned worse, he was losing memory and his pulse was dropping. He smiled slightly as he saw me. I was in tears, he motioned for me to come closer and whispered in a frail voice, "Remember, butterflies taste with their feet", he let out a faint chuckle. My grandfather told me a lot of facts. Mostly of how he served the British Army in WWII but they were also other random things. But this was out of the ordinary. He struggled to tell me this as if it was very important. Seemed as if he was waiting for me to tell this. He died in a matter of minutes after my visit. Those were also his last words. He had lived for 80 long years. 

His death depressed me a lot. I was already battling depression because I had finished my higher studies and was looking for a job. My degree in engineering seemed futile. I had been job hunting for over an year now To make things worse, my parents were looking for a boy and trying to get me married. This is the plight of any Indian girl my age, and to be frank, 25 is too young to get married. I missed my grandfather, he would disagree with my parents and would have stood by me. I did not want to get married to someone my parents chose and end up a housewife. 

His death was just the beginning of strange things to happen. It must have been two weeks after his death, I was returning home from an interview which my parents knew nothing of. I was waiting for the bus when I got a call from an unknown number. "Hello, this is Amitabh Bachan from Kaun Banega Crorepati" said the familiar voice. I was perplexed. "Oh, Hello, Oh my God, hello...how are you Sir?" I stammered. "I'm doing great Miss Neha, your friend, Nitu is on the hot seat with me and she is on her last life line. She is one question away from winning One crore Rupees! The next voice you will hear is Nitu's, you have 30 seconds, good luck!" he said. My bus came, I walked away one hand holding the phone tightly to my ear and the other plugging my other ear. "Neha", came Nitu's voice, "Where do butterflies have their taste sensors? A. Tongue, B. Proboscis, C. Wings, D. Feet." Before she could repeat the question, I knew the answer. " D. Feet, It's the feet!" I replied. Nitu was repeating her question again, apparently she was too nervous and did not hear me. "Feet, feet", I screamed. "Are you sure?" came her voice and with that the call snapped. I just stood there still holding the phone. Some curious bystanders were looking at me, after all I was screaming into the phone. I waited for my bus, my heart beating fast. I was hoping she answered correctly, Nitu had informed me about her selection last week. I never knew she had made it to the hot seat.

What came to mind immediately was the hospital scene. My grandfather. Was this a coincidence? I had a million questions in my head. My bus arrived and I boarded it. I called my friends and let them know about Nitu. I was waiting for her to call. I reached home and told my parents. They were surprised too. My phone rang, it was Nitu. "Hello" I said, "I won, I won Neha. Oh my God, I won!!!" she screamed. That was a night to remember.

The next morning, my inbox was flooded with Nitu's messages. She could not stop thanking me. She came home in the afternoon with some Gulab jamuns. She gave me an anaconda hug and started to describe the whole event. I was happy for her and she was on cloud nine. I couldn't stop thinking of my grandfather. If not for him, I would not have known the answer. Somethings in life don't have an explanation.

Three weeks would have passed. A cold war was on at home, I was not speaking to my parents due to their constant compulsion to get married. An argument led to a fight. I was fighting the urge to run away from home. Truth is I had nowhere to go. At least not until I got a job. Nitu's arrival one morning kind of defused the situation. She was beaming with a huge smile on her face. "Neha, I have a surprise for you, come out with me" she said. For a moment I thought she got me a job. A good job offer or an interview. I had not heard back from my gazillion interviews. None were successful. "What is it Nitu?", I asked. "I have a little something for you, a token of gratitude!", she replied. I followed her to the porch. On my parking spot was standing a brand new car, decorated with a ribbon and a bouquet. It was a 'Tata Nano'. "Nitu, your new car! wow! looks stunning" I said. "No, dum dum, not my car. It's for you" she replied laughing. "What??” I was shocked. “Why? You shouldn't have" I said feeling a bit uneasy. "Shut up Neha" she said, "I owe you at least this much". She gave me a hug and my parents arrived to look. They were talking with Nitu telling her it was unnecessary. But Nitu was stubborn, she insisted it was out of her happiness and said we had to accept it no matter what. I stood there not knowing what to do. It was an awkward situation. Had I really done anything to deserve this? "Come lets go for a ride, here are the keys" she said. I just wanted her to be happy and obliged. We drove around our colony and parked at a coffee shop. I tried to convince her to take the car back, she wouldn't listen. I gave up and we talked for hours.

A month or two slipped away. So now I had a car for myself, thanks to Nitu. My family already owned a Ford and now parking got a bit more cramped in our porch. My happiness was short lived. My parents were leaving photos of eligible grooms on my bed now. We were still not on talking terms. All my interviews yielded with a negative result and I was getting fed up with life. If this continued, I would eventually get married and sulk for the rest of my life. I thought of my grandfather. "Women need to be empowered. My Nehu will work and be independent", he would say. I shed a silent tear and tried to read a book but could not focus. Later in the evening, a friend of mine urged me to go out with her for a movie. I agreed. After some shopping and a movie, I dropped my friend where she lived and was on the way back home. It was after nine and the streets were getting emptier. Then it happened.

I was entering the main road from a cut road turning right, my signal was green. I did not see the speeding car approach, the car jumped the red signal at high speed and headed straight for me. I turned my head just in time to see it coming and right away I stepped on the gas. Too late. The impact was unavoidable. I closed my eyes, I heard a loud crash, the shattering of glass and I remember my body being thrown to the other side. I lost my consciousness.

I woke up in the hospital. My left leg was in a cast. My left shoulder was bandaged and the arm in a sling. I had a dislocated shoulder, fractured arm and a fractured leg. The doctors had inserted a steel rod in my leg which they said they would remove once the bones healed. Luckily my head suffered only minor bruises. I learnt what happened. The speeding car collided just inches away from the driver seat hitting the rear passenger door, because I had stepped up on the gas, the impact threw me from my seat to the other end of the car. My car swiveled and stopped in the middle of the intersection badly damaged. The speeding car after colliding with mine, did not stop until it hit the signal post. The sole occupant of the car died. His head hit the steering wheel killing him on the spot. People who witnessed the event said I was lucky to be alive.

Another month passed. I was on complete bed rest. Mom and dad did not mention a word about marriage. Nitu visited me often and was always in tears. She felt guilty. I consoled her telling her it was not her fault until one day I got fed up and screamed at her, "You are not responsible Nitu, I was driving. Now don't ever raise this topic again". The screaming seemed to have some effect on her. A few more weeks passed, I was healing well and the doctor said I would be ready in a month or so. The cast on my leg remained. My damaged car was beyond repair, it was sent for scrap and the insurance money was claimed. 

Hope came in the form of a telephone call. I was asked to attend an interview the following week. I lost count of how many interviews I had attended. Some companies never returned a call, some sent me a letter saying I was not selected and wished me luck. Some sent a letter saying I was unsuccessful but said they had saved my application in the database in case a similar opportunity arises in the future. I prepared hard for my upcoming interview, my first after the accident. The post was not quite relevant to what I had studied, but with some training, I could still do it. 

The day came, I boarded a taxi my dad had arranged. With crutches and a cast I was slow to get in. Clearly my dad was unhappy with me attending this interview, but he didn't show. Maybe because he thought this attempt too would be in vain. 

There were quite a few candidates waiting. My turn came and I slowly walked with crutches in one hand a folder in the other. There were two people sitting behind a desk browsing through papers. The usual formal greeting took place and I took a seat. They introduced themselves, one was the Chief HR Officer and the other was the COO himself. They asked me nothing about my leg. Were they too busy too notice? They went straight to some questions, asked me a little about my background, work experience, which I had none except for an internship I had done in the US. After taking notes and shuffling through papers the HR person spoke, "You know your CV is slightly off for this kind of a job". That exact minute, I lost all hope. But I still went on, "Sir, I believe some training will seriously help me get on track". The COO cut me off with another question, "What happened to you leg?" he asked. I told them everything, keeping it as brief as possible. Both men looked at each other. The COO's eyes were watery and looked as if he was about to cry. The other guy, patted his back and offered him some tissues. I was quite surprised. My story is that sad? Well, I'm alive, I mean its not that bad for a fully grown man to get emotional. The COO spoke, "My son died in that accident. He was drunk that night, that fateful night claimed his life, I thank God that the other victim, yourself, was spared". 

I had no words. I did not know what to say. "I'm sorry", I managed to say. The COO was in tears now. The other man was silent just staring at the desk. He spoke again, "My son made a mistake, you had to pay. The least I can do is get you a job here, we already have an eligible candidate, but for once let me ditch company rules and give way to my conscience. I'm sure we can train you in a couple of months and fit you in. You can expect an appointment letter soon. All the best". Saying this, he got up and left the room. The HRO got up and we shook hands. I felt weird. Happy and sad. Both at the same time. Is that even possible?

When I told my parents they were stunned and in disbelief. Most parents would have been happy for me. Not mine. Now they had to find a better groom for me, someone on par with my job. Grandfather would have been so happy. I missed him the most. My appointment letter arrived after three days. I joined the following week. My salary was more than that of what my dad and brothers earned combined. I don't remember feeling happier. 

A few months passed. One day at work, during lunch, I was sitting on the lawn with my colleague eating my home made chapatthi. We were seriously discussing about an upcoming event that we were supposed to organise. Suddenly a big butterfly with bright orange wings flew by from nowhere and sat on my fingers. It just sat there, opened its wings wide, closed them, opened them again and took off. I stood up and looked for it, trying to track it, but it was nowhere to be seen. 

My grandfather believed in the chaos theory. "It's not a theory dear, not to me. It's an effect" he had said. "These butterflies hold keys to all future events that unfold, such beautiful creatures". The old man who used to sit on a bench, smoking his pipe, gazing at those butterflies in the farm as if they were telling him something is no more. All that is left of him are memories. I'm not the only one who misses him, those butterflies miss him too.

   

Elevator - Short Story #3

My flat was on the second floor of an old 10-storey building. I am 16 years old now. Back when I was really young, my building was quite okay. But then it started to get infested with cockroaches, the pipes leaked, the paint started wearing off and there was this dampness in every room and I don’t know why. My mom has been urging my dad to move out to a better place. Poor dad, he’s been waiting for his promotion for the past two years. “Soon things will change”, would always be his optimistic reply to my mom’s constant nagging. I didn't really mind. Half the time, I was in school, then tuition  and then by the time I came home, I’d be dead tired. I would have dinner and go straight to bed. I was even getting used to the cockroaches. Initially I used to swat them with my slippers, as days passed I began to shove them away from me only to find them returning 5 minutes later. 

My building had two lifts in the lobby and a staircase. The stairs don’t have a single bulb lit in them and they are never used by anyone. I've never been to the terrace or any floor higher than the 2^nd for quite a long time. There is a reason for this.

When I was 6 years old, I wandered off from the lobby and entered a vacant lift. I pressed 2, but the lift did not stop at two, it went straight to 10 and opened. I stepped out for a moment. If my parents had found out I had gone all the way up without an adult, I’d get nice spankings. I was just standing there on the corridor, when an old woman opened her main door and came out. She wore an apron and seemed normal to me. She walked towards me and smiled. Pinching my cheeks, she asked for my name. I gladly gave it. She invited me in to her house and told me she had just finished baking a banana cake. And I could really smell banana from her house, like those banana bubble gums. It was a strong smell and it filled my nose. I told her I should be going back to my mom, she refused to let me go and shoved me into her house and locked the door. “I will take you to mommy, try my banana cake small boy.” The house had no furniture and that seemed strange. But this smell of banana was overwhelming and I was starting to feel sick.

What happened after changed my life. The woman removed her apron, threw it on the floor. I was facing her back ready to follow her into the kitchen. She turned back, her face expressing anger, eyes fiery red and from nowhere she seemed to have a thousand wrinkles on her face. She caught me by my neck and tightened her grip. “How many times have I told you, how many times?” she was screaming at me. “You won’t let me rest huh? You won’t let an old lady sleep huh?” I was gasping for breath and tears started rolling down my cheeks. “You need to be punished, you young disrespectful brat.” I fainted. That was my first blackout ever.

When I woke up, mom and dad were standing next to me. I was in a hospital. A huge but scary teddy bear holding a heart was sitting next to me. Mom was in tears and dad was consoling her. I felt fine until mom saw me and kissed me all over my face.

Years passed and I almost forgot about my childhood incident. A teenager has other issues to worry about. But I made sure I never visited the 10^th floor again. I never found out what happened the other day. Life went on.

Then it all came back. It was a Sunday evening and I was returning after a date with my girlfriend. I pushed the call button and waited thinking about my first kiss. The lift opened, I stepped in and pushed 2. I was smiling and I was in love. Things changed so quickly. The lift didn't stop at 2. I realized this when a something in me went ‘RED ALERT MODE’. It was taking too long for the lift to reach 2^nd floor. When I looked up, it was 4, then 5 and I kept pressing 2, then ‘STOP’ button, nothing happened.

6…

7…

I pressed the Emergency bell, nothing at all. My adrenaline kicked in and so did some sense. I pressed 9.

8…

The 9^th floor button was lit. I was praying. “Oh please stop at 9, stop at 9.”

9…

Didn't stop,

10 and then a ping sound.

I was sweating and scared to death. All my childhood memories of the event came back. The corridor had no lights. Not a single one and it was pitch black. I pressed 2. Kept pushing the button, the damned lift doors would not close. Looked like the lift broke down. The doors were wide open as if asking me to step out.

Then I heard a door open. And the corridor filled with a familiar smell. Banana. My heart was thumping hard. I knew it was a matter of seconds before I had to see what I didn't want to see.

I got an idea, when you are in danger, your brain works at super sonic speed. The staircase door was just next to the lift, all I had to do was get out and turn right and head straight for the stair doors.

I had no time to think anymore, by impulse, I stepped out and as I was about to open the stair doors hoping it would be unlocked, I got a glimpse of a shadowy figure approaching. Even in the dark, I knew exactly what it was. The banana smell was even stronger now.

I pushed open the stair doors, more darkness. But I ran, ran all the way down. Sprinting the stairs hoping I wouldn't crash down fracturing a leg. I took several flight of stairs at once. I ran till I was gasping for breath. I had run all the way to ground floor in a matter of minutes. Did not realize I had passed the second floor.

I was so relieved to see light, to see people staring at me with a concerned look. I had no balls to take the lift to my floor again. I was panting and no words came out.  Took a few breaths. Struggling for words, I told the watchman who looked pale now to get my dad from the house.

In two minutes both dad and mom were down looking severely upset and shocked. They were asking me what was wrong. I was in tears now, “Please, just take me home.. take me home.” A crowd had gathered by now.

This time I was accompanied by my parents and the watchman who had no idea what was going on? Once at home, I gulped down a bottle of water. My mom was in tears now and dad was demanding an explanation. In my head, I was thinking no one would believe what I had to say. I kept quiet. I told them I was feeling fine now and wanted to rest. “I just got scared, I will speak tomorrow. I need to sleep.” Dad was not convinced, “Did you have a fight? Did anyone get hurt? Tell me, what happened?” I assured him everything was fine now, “I need to rest, please, I need privacy.” Saying this, I went to my room and locked from the inside. I heard a lot of murmuring outside.

I went to bed and fell asleep. The next morning at breakfast I told them what happened. Both mom and dad were just staring at me the whole time. Never said a single word. I was dreading they would now take me to a psychiatrist. I didn't go to school that day. I didn't step out of my house. In the evening when dad came home, he told us we were shifting to a new house in two days.

I never boarded the lift alone. Even while moving my stuff. My new house is a villa. No lifts. Just two floors. A few months later I overheard a conversation between mom and dad. “The old hag had died the night when we found him unconscious”, said dad. “I don’t want to talk about it, our son had nothing to do with her death”, mom was sulking. “He may have discovered the body, that’s why he fainted. He’s just scared. This is all past tense now. Don’t ever let him know.” My dad replied, “Like I have any desire to tell him, why would I traumatize him. It’s all over now.”

I didn't sleep for a few nights. The last I heard about the building was when my dad informed it had been torn down. “Rest in Peace, Bitch.” That’s all I thought of.

Annoying things to do on a plane

Bored on a long flight? I came up with some ideas to annoy people on a flight. Word of advice: Try them at your own risk..

1. After take-off, distribute candies to passenger and tell them "today is my happy birthday."

2. While taxiing, speak into your wrist watch pretending it is a radio and say things like, "Captain, you're clear for take off...roger that...over."

3. Push the call button, raise your hand and wait. When the air hostess arrives, tell her you need to pee. 

4. While flying, wave outside the window and signal the 'call me' sign.

5. Take books/newspaper from your co passenger seat, but don't touch yours and don't allow anyone to do so.

6. Dig your nose and offer your co passenger your boogies.

7. Ask for a finger bowl after your in-flight meal.

8. If the kids get crayons or toys from the cabin crew, sternly demand one for your yourself.

9. Get out of your seat and do push-ups.

10. Walk up to the toilet, spend ten minutes in there, come out, walk half way to your seat and run back screaming "I forgot to flush!!"

11. Go to random passengers and tell them you own the airline.

12. Fall asleep in the toilet.

13. Half way through flight, take your bags from the storage above and wait near the exit door. When asked, tell the crew you want to be the first to get off.

14. Make origami ducks and hand them over to passengers.

15. After touch down, clap your hands and shout, "Hallelujah.. Praise be to the Lord!!!"

The Battle for Life

I always used to wonder what’s the most difficult situation I've been in? Have you ever been in one? What’s the saddest moment of your life? I recently went through one.

A young uncle of mine was diagnosed with cancer a few months ago. For the sake of privacy I won’t be revealing a lot of details, including what type of cancer. Even though it was a stage 3 cancer, the doctors were quite hopeful it could be cured. I have seen people suffering from cancer, battling for their life and recover from the verge of death. We were quite positive that this could be cured.

He received treatment at a private hospital in the city.  Although a famous hospital, he had to travel to another hospital frequently to receive chemotherapy and radiation. Since the cancer was in the abdominal region, his kidneys needed to be in check, so a diagnosis was done in another kidney-dedicated hospital. This was kind of messed up to be honest.

After a month of chemo and radiation, the updated test results showed no improvements. That’s when it was decided to shift him to a different hospital in another city quite far. Now this was a famous and reputed hospital, one of the best in the whole nation and people visited from various countries for treatment. The main reason for shifting was done in order to receive all kinds of treatment under one roof and get ultimately get cured.

It was a pain to take him all the way there. And to get him admitted was another issue. One had to go through a long process of acquiring appointments and waiting in queues. Being a cancer patient, he was admitted in casualty ward, the doctors ran tests and dismissed saying, “there is a problem, but it is not emergency”. So obviously he had to meet a few doctors before they would admit him. Now he was in deep pain and the first appointment with the doctor was available only after 3 days. Multiple appointments were made with other doctors too, like the surgeon, urologist, radiologist etc, which extended to the following weeks. If he were not getting admitted soon, things would turn pretty bad. Eventually, a small group of us including his father and wife waited for the appointment day. I must say here that his wife showed exceptional courage and stayed very positive all the way, she was 100 percent sure he would be cured and was most hopeful. We stayed in a lodge opposite to the hospital. I don’t have the strength to describe the tedious process of waiting. It was horrible.

 On the exact day of appointment no. 1, his token number was 16, which meant the doctor had to see 15 patients before him. He waited with the agonising pain. But with a few strings to pull in the administration, and a request made to the nurse, we were able to see the doctor early. When the doctor uttered the words, “get admitted and cancel the remaining appointments”, we were so happy. Really really happy because once you are admitted, the doctors take care of everything and you don’t need to wait for further appointments and consultations.

I left the hospital a day later back to my place hopeful that everything will be taken care of, constantly keeping in touch with him and his wife. He went through various tests and scans and minor procedures as other health issues cropped up. A week later, it was informed that he had a block in the intestine and he needed surgery. He was vomiting severely as he could not excrete because of the block. Now imagine for yourself when I say ‘vomit, because he could not excrete’, it is difficult for me to type here and I pray no human should suffer this kind of a situation.

He was also on morphine, which is a narcotic drug and this made him drowsy and lose consciousness. The doctors recommended an immediate surgery to remove the block. Again we were all hopeful. The actual treatment for cancer, which was chemo, had not begun yet. This block had to be removed first.

I spoke to him and my aunt the night before surgery. The surgery was performed late in the evening. He was back in his room next morning. We were looking forward to start the chemo soon. But things took a drastic turn. The following afternoon, his pulse rate reduced and he developed breathing problem. The doctors were informed of this difficulty and they had to take him to the ICU (Intensive Care Unit).

What happened next was for the worst. The cancer had spread to other parts and the tumor was bigger now, causing obstruction in the intestine. Because of the block, he could not urinate. The kidneys failed. Dialysis was an option to flush out impurities, but his blood pressure was too low to perform dialysis. He slipped into unconsciousness. He was sedated heavily. This was on for two days without improvement. Medication increased. The doctors told his wife to summon his children so they can see him as things were now getting out of control and anything could happen.

The family and relatives were in complete shock. Traumatised. I saw him in the ICU. His life was hanging on a thread supported by a ventilator. Tubes in his nose, pipe in his mouth, the man had no idea what he was going through. He had not woken up for two days now; his life was on with the help of a machine.

The visiting hours in the ICU were only for an hour in the morning and an hour in the evening. We were allowed in very small groups to see him. His two young kids and wife were pleading, calling his name, shoving him asking him to wake up and see. Standing by his side and desperately trying to get a response, hoping his blood pressure and pulse would increase with each call. No. Nothing happened.

I had asked earlier, ‘What’s the saddest moment of your life?’

It’s ‘helplessness.’ To see his family stand by him and try everything they had in them to just get this man open his eyes was the most saddest thing I've ever seen. He was talking and fine two days ago, here he was now struggling for breath, body turning blue, face looked like life was creeping out. The image was unbearable.

I stood there, watching the scene, crying uncontrollably. My heart wept. This was one last chance to save him, if he woke up and the BP increased, there were chances to save his life. But he did not respond. He would raise his eyebrows or turn his head slightly once or twice with repeated pleading trying to wake him. This would give us hope, but the doctor said it was because he comes in and out of sedation and responds slightly to his name being called. But that too lasted for a split second. It got worse.

All his relatives tried their best; I too called him, asking him to wake up, telling him he’s cured, asking him to wake up so we could go home. Nothing. He was suffering. He was fighting for his life. The doctors told it was just a matter of hours. The urine was bound to infect the blood; multiple organ failure or lead to cardiac arrest would lead to death.

We were all devastated, especially the family. Yet we waited for a miracle. I had no words to console his wife. Battling tears we all waited. It was a heart gruelling situation.

 He died the following evening losing his battle for life.

He never got a chance to see his kids before death. On the way to the ICU three days ago, my aunt had to run a quick errand, by the time she returned, the doctors had taken him in. Missed him by a minute. She did not speak to him properly, nor did my uncle get a chance to see her after that. What sort of cruelty is this? Never did anyone imagine things would turn this bad.

Initially I used to pray for his full recovery. Then when he was in ICU, I prayed for his blood pressure to increase, even though his kidneys had failed and nothing could be done. When the doctors gave up, I prayed that he would just open his eyes and see his wife and kids one last time, before death. None of this happened.

I don’t remember God answering most of my prayers. I remember praying like mad asking God to help pass me in exams and get admissions in colleges. But when I look back, I realise it was bound to happen. I am not an atheist yet nor am I agnostic. Fine, forget me; I may not be the perfect devotee. But my uncle’s father (my grandfather) had immense faith in God. His career was in a temple most of his life praying for everyone’s welfare. Never missed a prayer. Yet he had to go through the torture of losing his son. My uncle too kept saying, “God will save me, nothing will happen to me”. His wife and kids prayed day and night with firm optimism. Yet this is the same God that could not grant a wish. If you have to suffer for your karma, then why do they say everything happens according to God’s will? I agree death is inevitable. Could God not even grant a small wish? If his life was meant to go, let it go. But could God not bring him to his senses one last time, even if it was for 5 seconds, so he could see his wife and kids one last time? They pleaded and begged. Where was God?

Time goes on. Life moves on. The funeral took place, a lot of mourning, a lot of wailing and crying. I watched his last rites being performed. I saw one last time the lifeless body go all the way into the electric crematorium. The doors shut and all that came out was ashes.

Is it wrong to be angry with God? Is it wrong to question his act? Put aside karma, I agree we suffer for our acts and in my life I've readily accepted mine whether I like it or not. But the fact that it had to end so drastically makes it hard for me to cope. Oh God, he could have just opened his eyes for a moment to see his family standing there. It would have given them solace. Why does he never hear us? I know I am overreacting. But I can’t come to terms with the fact that in the end everything was way too unpleasant. But this thing called ‘acceptance’ kicks in once again I look up to God. Why is there so much pain? Only if we had the answers. At the end of the day it is us who pacify ourselves and move on with life.

The Dream - Short Story #2

I have this recurring nightmare. I am in an old house, and it has a balcony with black grills. Now this balcony is weird because it is inward facing, it faces inwards to a room. So basically I am standing on this balcony facing the walls of the room and below is the floor of the room. It is always dark in this room and there is faint light coming from somewhere. All of a sudden, I see this man who is standing below. I can't see him properly, but he is lending out his hand, almost seems as if he's asking me to step down. But I refuse and look away and that's when I wake up and I feel relieved.

Last night I had this dream again, when the man gave me his hand, I try to look away, but I give my hand to him and I know I just did the most stupid thing. As soon as I give my hand, as I think I will be pulled down to doom, I feel myself pulling him up. So now he's climbing up rather than me going down. That's when I woke up screaming, sweat strained.

My dad immediately appears and says, "It's okay, it's okay. Just a bad dream. I am here now." Even though it's dark, reassured my dad is there, I fall asleep, dad pats my forehead gently whispering, "I'm with you... I'm with you now."

Next morning when I go down for breakfast and the main door clicks open. Standing there is my dad looking worn out in a suit. I ask him, "Where are you coming from? Thanks for last night, I freaked out." He replies, "What are you talking about? I left you an SMS...I was on night duty last night, nobody was home except you."

Secrets - Short Story #1

I love secrets. The feeling is amazing. Absolutely amazing to know something that others don't know. Especially when all others are dying to find out, okay maybe not 'dying' but curious to find out the reason or in need of an explanation for something that has baffled them. Well, there are two types of secrets. One, no one knows of its existence and the second, you don't know who? when? where? what? why? and how?

If I were to tell you that a pirate belonging to the 16th century buried his treasure chest in an island and died without telling anyone, then it's a lost case. No one in the damn world would be aware of that. That's the first kind of secret. The second one for instance is, your dad told you a secret but your mom is desperate to find out what he told you. Your mom knows something fishy is going on, but can't guess. Shhh! It's a secret. Maybe they are planning a birthday party! Or maybe the CIA has some classified information on how a famous terrorist actually died, but the general public don't.

Me personally, I like the first kind of secret. It makes me feel powerful to know that I am the bearer of information. Information that no one knows of. Information so powerful that could attract immense attraction. It is god like. Except I don't believe in god. And that is why I haven't capitalised god.

I possess a secret. It all started when I was taken to a psychiatric clinic for my erratic behaviour. My parents thought I was abnormal. I don't blame them, they just listened to what my school had to say. After 6 months of therapy, the psychiatrist informed my parents that I had Histrionic personality disorder. I didn't even know what it meant back then. But when I did, I had to prove everyone wrong. Everyone. Those bullies in school, my family, my teachers, my fake friends. Just everyone.

So, three years ago, I had the chance to possess my own secret. It started off as an accident but then, much to my amusement it turned out to be one of the best kept secret. But then, as time passes, a secret loses its charm, why? because nothing comes out of it. Even I cannot feel happy knowing that I know something but that 'something' fades out from your life.

So I found a way to keep the secret alive.

How?

by exposing it.

How?

by blogging it........... right here.

By saying that, it does not mean it's not a secret anymore. It still is because I create a blog among millions of other blogs, and this particular blog remains a secret, I don't give anyone the address nor tell anyone of it's existence. Of-course someone may stumble upon this blog accidentally, but I doubt they will read this and even if they, they would dismiss it as utter crap. You see, that's the beauty.

I am happy that I am living dangerously now. I am saying this because, the secret I possess is not ordinary. It is dangerous.

                                                                      §§§

 CASE ZERO:

Three years ago, when my brother's wife had just given birth to a premature baby, the ill-fated baby was kept on a ventilator. I had gone to visit them at the hospital. I had the chance to visit the ward where numerous babies were set to a ventilator and I stood seeing from behind a glass panel all those little beings sleeping. The nurse in charge stepped out for I don't know why. So I sneaked in trying to find the name tag of the mother wrapped on the baby's tiny wrist. When I found the right one, I stood watching. I don't know what came over me, but I found the ventilator switch and decided to turn it off to see what happened. I turned it off. I left the room. In a few hours time, we got the bad news. The next day, a nurse and a duty doctor were arrested from the hospital. It made the headlines.

CASE SIX:

The yearly science fair was conducted late june in our school. Every room was packed with parents, teachers and kids. I was in the chemistry lab when a small kid came up to me asking for the water dispenser. I gave him the glass beaker which was kept across the table filled with something water like. I told him it was water and asked him to drink it up. As I left the room, I could hear a loud scream followed by more screaming, I fled the scene chuckling. No one had the faintest memory of me being in the room nor did anyone question me. The kid had died, apparently it was sulfuric acid in the beaker.

CASE THIRTY NINE, FORTY THREE:

This is my favourite case. It is because I made a brilliant execution here. I never liked the neighbour next door. Don't ask me why, but I detested him. His appearance made me puke. So I wanted to send him away forever. Cleverly though. I broke into his flat one night (he had given us their spare key for safe keeping) without anyone's knowledge while he was sound asleep. Turned on the gas in the kitchen, took the main key from the key hanger and set fire to the curtains with the help of a lighter, at first it burnt slowly, as the fire started to burn, I ran out and locked from outside. No one saw me, I went back to my flat and waited. My parents were out of town. I waited until I could smell smoke. Then the fire alarm rang. In a few minutes, I heard sirens. Then it was all chaos. The next day they found two charred bodies, a male and a female. I thought he was divorced. Yeah, but who cares.

                                                                       §§§

That's end of part one. In part two I shall narrate five more cases. My ambition is to cover cases from zero to ninety-nine. As the case number gets higher, I know its going to be harder, but I have to keep this secret alive. I have to.