Celebrating beauty

"I am not beautiful" flashed on the screen. I stared at it for a while. I was amused, a little moved by this heartfelt declaration. Who was this girl, I wondered who opened up, what she thought was her flaw to a Perfect Stranger on Chat.

Chats- yes! My lifeline to relationships .It was at that time when India was slowly opening its eyes to the internet. Computer owners were few. Internet service providers minted money through cyber cafes that mushroomed at every junction in cities. Cyber cafe became synonyms with chats for bachelors like me who used to get instant gratification of virtual friends with the blessing of No Strings Attached. So after working my best for 6 week days I made a beeline to the nearest cyber cafe. Every Sunday avoiding the disapproving glances of regular Church goers, I, headed towards my 'Church'

Yahoo messenger had picked up very well and I could see the rise in the number of online chats. Many were available online and the moment you login they rush into your space to know your ASL (age, sex, location) the first preference being sex. The rest were negotiable. I been no different enjoyed chatting with the sweeter gender. It was during such times when she came along. I promptly typed "ASL please" and she said--- I am not beautiful. I pride myself on my ability for one liners which by now I know have such immense effect on the target especially soft ones. I said "beauty lies in the heart of the beholder" My changed one liner hit the bulls eye and thus opened the door to her heart .There was no stopping us now.

We started with chats on Sundays. I used to wait for weekends. We chatted for long. It was as if we could talk about anything under the sun. Soon we were writing mails. In all the talks, the fact that warmed me was her caring nature. She could love almost everything. I just could not get enough of her. I saved up enough, borrowed, begged and finally manage to buy a computer with internet service. My indulgence was turning into a very costly affair. But no one has ever complained after eating the apple though paradise was lost. My excitement knew no bounds as once a week was turning into a daily activity. She was a joy to talk to. She never failed to make me feel at the top of the world. Her simple but serene way of living, thinking behaving made me more attached than attracted to her every day. We communicated a lot and letter our hearts do the talking. We soon exchanged phone numbers. She became very close, I had as on not seen her. Somehow she felt very familiar even though it was a virtual relation.

I made up my mind to meet her and landed in her city. I endured all the cost with the hope of getting to be with her, meet her, and see her. She in her usual exuberance expressed her joy in having me in her city but politely refused to meet me. Two days in a nearby hotel and she did not even let me have a glimpse of her. Very God fearing and obedient she did not want to hurt her parents. After a few sightseeing I returned back to my city but never got to see her. Somehow I was not angry, disappointed maybe but respected her decision. After my return I continued with our virtual affair. She texted, she called, she mailed and I patiently waited for her move, it was safer than my initiative. I used to sleep into the night   with my phone so as not miss her calls. Hilarious as it may seem, in the morning I usually found myself clutching the alarm clock to my ears, not sure how it ended up there.  One of the reasons could be that it might have rung and I subconsciously put it to my ears. I was all of 26. People might smirk at my foolishness but then childishness has no age.

Life was good, job, wages carefree life food, drinks and entertainment. Then tsunami struck...It struck the southern coast of India and while people were reeling under its effect, a personal tsunami struck me. “Why don't you talk about our marriage to my parents”? Sweet as usual but my ears felt hot, I went completely blank my carefree bubble just burst "you could speak to my mom" she continued. I suddenly feigned an incomplete job and cut the call. I sat thinking. I was not afraid of relationship I was afraid of commitment. I did not believe I had the courage to stand by committed relations. It was impossible to keep my 'wanderlust' in control. I loved to wander in the territory of love. I never let her know but even if she was the heroine of my story I had character actors secretly stacked away to fill in the gaps when she was not available. I just could not let go a good chance to have fun. Now this was bad. Who marries at 26 or ever for that matter?

Next day she called as usual. I was back to my chirpy mood but was weary of the possibility of the M word popping out. What puzzled me was she never spoke about it again. After a week or so she casually give me the landline number of her residence I took the cue. Not to dishearten her I called her home that weekend. I introduced myself to her parents. I spoke of everything but marriage. Then it became and occasionally affair, if I could not get her personally I would call her home and have a chat with her mother. Her mother was equally talkative and kept me entertained .a simple lady with lots to say.

Soon my girl realized that I was only beating about the bush with no serious intentions. She asked me once more if I considered marriage. I soberly justified with the age factor, asked her to wait. She got the message. Suddenly I was caught up with lot of official work. She too became busy. Before long the once strong communication started fading and dwindled to a stop. To pick up the threads once again after a long time, called her residence. Her mother pleasant and loving informed me "she's getting married" In the end she added "son never call back again" I understood a mother's heart and obliged. After the call I found myself smiling.

I felt free. A forced commitment would have led to unhappiness for all ...And a person as good as her definitely deserved someone better I blessed her with my whole heart and when I received the invite, sent her a loving message with a gift. I celebrated that night. I drank to her marriage and fulfilment. With her happy memories locked away, I resumed my wanderings

Years later like a gentle breeze she drifted into my life once again. She still had the power to soothe me .Her voice caressed me .In her gentle and caring voice she enquired about me. She had a son and a second child soon to come, then. She was happy in her life, I realized. she deserved to be. I never let her know but she was the most beautiful soul I had ever known

That night I celebrated.

I drank

I drank to her beauty.

The obedient me

One of the fleeting memories of my childhood---- I on the Guava tree with my younger sibling for company. I can still hear my mom calling out for me not out of love but frustration. Guava tree never fascinated me but the safety of its tallest branch did. I could commit any waywardness and still manage the getaway. Sometimes I gave in. After every incident I promised my round faced red flushed up mother to be ever obedient to her. A promise she knew I would never keep at least not till I grew up. She soon lost hope but her instructions and patronizing   remained. I too never lost hope on myself I listened to disobey. My obedience to myself is how I justified it. I listened only to myself.

My unique trait fetched me many friends. They all found me very entertaining, especially my one liners. They used to be amused by it. But not for long. It irked them when I never listened to anything they said. Every relation they said, needed consideration understanding and obedience but all their words fell on my deaf ears. I was not ready to act or say anything against what I felt was right. So I never listened to anyone of them. After one such argument with friends over certain condition where there was a unanimous Yes towards a certain solution. I was 'outstanding' with a No. Somewhere 'Myself,' did not like to agree so I disagreed. They called me selfish....I immediately retorted 'He who does not belong to self belongs to none’. My friends took my one liner too seriously, I was indeed left with none. And I got a new mantle....Rude…!

It is really surprising how I still retain my job. As far as I remember I have never been a ’Yes boss'. On the contrary it was more of often a No. My boss too tried to reform me. Gentle reminders and reprimands climaxed to memos. Still I fanatically listened only to me. Soon he realized, either his way or mine, as long as the job was getting done it shouldn't be a matter of concern and soon I was left victoriously alone...But not before he suggested me to the office counsellor.

I won't say life is a smooth ride. My obedience to self has landed me in problems and wrong decisions. I don't repent nor had blame, after all every act of mine stemmed from self-love. Speaking of love I did manage to impress a girl even with this temperament. I might have shown her a very sober side of me else there is no other reason for her to commit. She decided to marry me at her own risk. Maybe she fell for the age old tradition that the wife can make the husband listen to her .So armed with this wifely knowledge she tried her best .Here I have to accept that it was always done with good intentions. It was for a better or healthier me more disciplined and fit. I patiently listened to everything she had to say and then smiled the very smile she fell for. Only this time she was exasperated, she realized that this was a smile that sealed the topic with a 'No- I won't listen to you' she gave up and let me have my way and I am back to obeying myself.

Then I met someone just like me -- obedient. She was crazy enough to like my disobedience. Birds of same feather applied here and we were friends. Soon chats and calls enlivened our friendship. She became my special someone.....Wish could say all this.

Yaa.... Absolutely special.....She was the counsellor for special needs in our office to whom my boss had directed me to....

And so I and my 'special someone' started our sessions..... I was back to being me. I never listened to any of her instructions. I tried my winning smile with her. She promptly laughed back. It was my turn to be exasperated. Whatever she asked of me I disobeyed and her smile told me she was loving it. She loved it when I did not listen to her. This was cheating. She was taking away my glory. The satisfaction that I felt when I proved that I only listened to self, used to dim in her bright smile. She continued instructing and directing my course and my fav retort in her case was 'when do I listen to u'.

This went on for 6 months. She seemed to enjoy my case. She neither gave up like my mother nor leave like my friends. She didn't ignore or reform either. She simply accepted my disobedience. Each session burnt a hole in my pocket but she never gave up. It was as if she wanted me to disobey. I soon realized my disobedience was her gain. Someone really loved my disobedience.

I was fooled. Not to cover down I faced her, accused her of not treating me properly...... Nothing was working, I complained..... Only I was losing out on money. I huffed and puffed all I could.

She kept a calm, smiled and said, “how will it work"

..."when did u listen to me?"

What to Write When I have Nothing to Write about....

It's said.. First the storm.. Then the lull and then come the aftermath.

I am in a pleasant aftermath. The idea of my hobby had taken my friends and relatives by a storm and forced them to see me in a new light. I still can't understand what hit them the most the fact that I have stories to tell where they could be potential character or that I can manage to write well. After initial uprising of enthusiasm, awe, shocks and wonder they all settled into a lull, accepted my new 'avtar'  and  let me be me. My sceptical friend stopped correcting my grammar and usage while my philosopher friends stopped searching for conceptual meanings in my text.

I needed to write again! How could I? I hate writing and currently I could not think of one subject of liking. Subjects come to me spontaneously and specially when I’m on my bike. I start my bike and go for a ride and its then when I start getting ideas. It's here where all the thoughts consolidate to give me a more created hand. If we ignore the two traffic tickets, irritated drivers and the penalty I have had to pay for breaking traffic rules, I can say my rides have been profitable – creatively.

So today I started my bike, checked for license and helmet.. all in place, even the fuel tank showed promise so I started my bike ready to ride through my ideas my creative balloon got a prick when my wife called out to give me an errand of picking up the ironed clothes from the laundry on my way back." it's absolutely necessary" she warned "I have a function to attend". I responsibly nodded and carried on with my thought process but my mind refuse to give me any respite. I was totally conscious about my surroundings. I tried to go into my dream world but to no avail and still not speck of ideas on the canvas of my mind.

I passed a playground and saw children playing. I enjoy sports. How about writing on them? Presently the whole nation was swaying to the beats of IPL matches, nobody would be interested in reading about them. Moreover Dhoni and Tendulkar already have books and movies to their credit. I am not a great fan of cricket and if at all I did watch a match my eyes would always be riveted to the cheerleaders. The only eye candy of the match that never held any fascination for me. If it was football the scene would have been different. Nothing could keep me away from my side of the sofa, with my eyes on the screen and my favourite and unhealthy snack. When you taste buds are stimulated, health takes a backseat. I pondered for a while. I could write about health, eating habits, diet, exercise and mental wellbeing. My excitement on my new topic did not last long as the mobile beeped reminding the appointment date with my doctor. With the doctors and hospitals making quiet a fortune through my health insurance, I was definitely not a candidate to advocate health.

Then what? How about sticking to my hobby horse ....love, relations, girlfriends ...... I could express myself very well on last. I had quite a few ones to talk about. 'Girlfriends' -an interesting topic indeed. Everyone would surely agree to it.. Everyone except my better half….. so I nipped the  idea at the bud. I smartly don't take such risks. I was already 20 minutes into my thoughts and still no story had taken shape. Story ideas right now for me resembled my stocks at the share market--in depreciation, so can't write about share market too. How about some patronizing speech. The Easter month is still on. I could write on some inspiring life quotes, debate on vices and virtues.  Unfortunately for me, I have jumbled up the 'V's. How?... let's leave it for a later topic.

So with no ideas and so nothing to write I took a U turn towards home. I was standing at the traffic signal when I received a message from a colleague. Coincidentally she too was asking about my next topic. I asked her for her suggestion....  'Life after death' her suggestion remained unacknowledged, the signal had turned green. Now my mind was completely blank. Whatever half-baked ideas had been formulated also vanished. Who thinks of death? Philosophers maybe.... I should consult them. I had no clue on the subject. I have barely understood life during life and life in death, quiet ignorant about it. Life I have heard are the choices we make. MCQs have always been my worst nightmare, so this topic itself was a question of life and death for me...

I could see my house now. I rode into my parking. For a change, I realized, I had ridden safely. Didn't as usual get caught on the wrong side of law.

I smiled...

 'Life is good'

 I saw her standing at the door with a smile. Wow... it's going to be a lovely Sunday ahead. My smile grew bigger....

‘Life is beautiful’

"‘Darling, where's the laundry?”

My smile froze...

Finished.....

Life after death ...........to be continued.

***

"To my love Binoy" – My First Love Letter

"Hey chubby cheeks!!!!! Wait for me" I turned to find a class mate .He came up to me, pulled my cheeks, put his hand over my shoulders and we walked to school.

Short and stout, round actually with chubby cheeks dimpled chin... I was the cutie pie of the class and as the nursery rhyme goes the teachers' pet too. No wonder, I was made the monitor of the class. I sat on the first bench not because of my position though, it was the only place from where I could see the board without standing up. All the boys and girls were my pals. The girls loved me, smiled at me, laughed at my jokes, played with me but that's the end of the story. Maybe I was too cute for them to be interested in me and as for the guys, none of them considered me a threat to them, so with bittersweet emotions I watched girls and boys passing on love letters to each other confessing their love.

Love letters that was the only medium to proclaim your love! It was considered as the ultimate verdict of a serious relationship. Obviously I was never a recipient and to top it I was the official postman. I did get to read a few of them and I used to be carried away by the sweet, tough promises and till death do us part quotes. Sometimes I did wish that I would get one.

So it was a shocking surprise, one day, when I found a letter addressed to me. The half yearly exams were going on, the seating arrangement was such that it was a mix of 8th standard and 10th standard. After a disastrous attempt at the history paper that day where I could still not answer why Shah Jahan had built Taj Mahal, when lo and behold it lay there right at the foot of my desk. A pink sheet with words "To my love Binoy"

  More out of disbelief than excitement my hands trembled. The first thing I did was to put it into my chest pocket. As if in trance I walked home. Throughout the way the faces of the 21 girls in my class played before me. I wondered 'Who'. I did not want to open my 'Puzzle' and solve the mystery. I speculated on some, some of them I wished would be, some I hoped not, with yet others I was sure would never be. I removed the letter from the pocket in the secrecy of my room. I once again read my name, spelt it, yes it was for me. My joy, my shock, my bewilderment, knew no bounds when I read the name of the sender.

The most sought after girl in my class had considered me. The last image I had of her was her fair and smooth hands caressing the cheek of a boy who had mustered up courage to propose her .Only, he was left howling and with a red mark on his cheek as a souvenir. I again read her name. Yes it was she and it was for me. She had turned down many and yet today she wrote to me? I started to read it, made no sense on the first reading but slowly words sunk in. An adjective and a verb caught my selective mind...'sweet and like' she found me sweet enough to like me. My emotions are still unexplainable. The top of the world emotion. She had not concealed any of her feelings she was even ready to die if I did not reciprocate to her. It made me feel like a knight in shining armour. I felt taller than my 4 feet 10 inches. I was no ordinary boy now. I was an young adult and asserted myself, felt great and important, read the letter again the same feelings surged up. I could not wait to barge about my achievement... After all the cutie pie had stolen the show right from under the nose of the smarties.

There was spring in my feet the next day to school. That I had forgotten my lunch bag at home made my parents realize that my mind was elsewhere. The moment I entered the class I saw her. Today it was different. I actually stared at her. She stared back and smiled .Wow I could die hundred times for a rewind. I tried to read her smile. What did she want to say? My eyes were on her throughout the day... well actually part of the day, the rest of the day I was standing out as punishment for my offence......not concentrating in class and  just smiling away to glory.

Well no one knew my secret. In the snack break my friends rallied around me, wanted to know the reason of my strange behaviour. With elan I told them my predicament. They completely disbelieved me. I showed them the evidence then they hero worshiped me. They wanted to know how I had managed it after all. After receiving my felicitations with fake modesty I was still smiling when one of them asked "now what" It sounded alien to me. I have not decided. Yet it was a fact ...'what next’.

I was coaxed by my friends to approach her. They promised me moral support by being around when I approached her.

The historic moment took place that evening. She and her friends were coming back from music class. Music..... She was learning to sing. How did she know I loved songs.....? I got a soul mate feeling. Everything was so blissful...  she approaching me.... smiling right from the moment her eyes met mine... she was even wearing my favourite colour...  Yellow. What more could have I asked for? The setting was perfect. She asked me something, I did not respond, did not listen, and only heard her sweet voice. She called out my name. I must have only gapped at her for she was now showing irritation. I just held out her letter, she stared at it. Her lovely face was very expressive, only this time the expressions were not right. Her pretty face flushed red "where did you get it".

I still don't know if I had heard it right then but I replied and as realization struck her she laughed. It made no sense ... where I had imagined a sweet, shy, confessing rendezvous... It turned out to be a far cry. Something was not right. In between her giggles she told me "it’s not for you, but the other Binoy of 10th standard”. My pack of cards came tumbling down... Why did I feel the waves of disappointment wash away my castle of love? She had the audacity to pull my cheek then, I moved away. She said I was not 'interesting' in that sense. This was like adding insult to injury. I challenged her. I promised to get a love letter of my own. I stood rooted while she took her letter and without a backward glance walked away.

I smartly tackled my friends into believing that I had rejected her..." She's not my kind", I said...And left them open-mouthed.

Later I tried to cajole a few girls to write me a love letter..... None yet … Times changed, today I have my love beside me but no love letter ....Mine was technological.

But even today ....in solitude, When I think back ....I have still not got over the euphoria of possession of a love letter.....Though not mine.

I still wait for One….

Every Love story is Different.... Mine is Unique.

My love is like a red rose that is newly sprung in June 

My love is like the melody that is sweetly played in tune.

How completely has Robert Burns described my feelings for my love!! Yes I have a love story....

For me it was love at first sight. Four years ago one sunny day she looked up at me and smiled and I knew she was mine for life. She didn't speak much on our first meeting. It was a silent conversation where I heard whatever she said with her eyes while I kept confessing my love for her. I was a visitor to her place so even before we could get acquainted it was time to leave. I left her with a promise to be back soon. It took me another year to get back. Rat race to earn bread and butter was a hindrance to our meeting.

I visited her home the next time. After engaging in polite but impatient conversations with her parents I asked for her. I saw her then clad in white dress... an angelic beauty. My heart skipped beat. This time she spoke I was so mesmerized by her presence that none of her talks made any sense, only I knew I felt elated after the entire conversation. I just couldn't wait another year to know if she loved me as much. I put up my question "do you love me" I was greeted with the warmest smile but shyly she looked away. I read the love in her eyes. Her lovely face and inviting smile was what kept me going another year.

I visited my hometown again the next vacation. My parents noticed that I seldom seemed interested in being with them. They realized that I now had a love interest. They were amused but never interfered. I called on her. She had grown more beautiful she coyly stood with her mother while we kept up formal conversation. Finally I got to speak with her. She didn't trust her words I feel for she expressed more than she talked. Where ever her words failed her pleasant giggles compensated. They were the sweetest music like the notes that flowed from a lover's violin. That year when I took my leave she boldly came up to me. Held my hand, brought my cheek close to her and kissed me. I was presently surprised. Suddenly shy, she ran back to her house, for me I was in seventh heaven. The best kiss ever.

I was back at her doorstep once again the following vacation. This time I was determined to spend my entire vacation wooing her. I found her an equally willing companion. Our mindsets matched if I was naughty she was naughtier. If I laughed she laughed louder. My one kiss would be acknowledged by a shower of hugs and kisses, she was never shy. We were on date every other day, crept out of our homes, made our own plans, we could not see beyond ourselves. We were a rowdy duo. Often she was scolded by her mother but the mischievous glint in her eyes sealed our pact for the next adventure.

Annual visits to my hometown became more frequent. Every holiday - be it Christmas, Easter or summer, found an eager me rushing up to her threshold to behold her. The latest vacation was the best. We walked hand in hand through the little garden she owned. She showed her plants to me. She animated the best when she spoke to her flowers. Her garden looked like Eden ....nature at its best but then everything is always Beautiful when she's around. We went swimming one day, said I would teach her to swim she jumped straight into the river, my life went for a toss right in front of me. I jumped in and pulled her out. I scolded her and she innocently justified." I trust you I knew you would save me" I held her close never to let go she literally rode on my shoulders while she learnt. Very soon she took to swimming as fish to water. Never once did she flinch. Her faith in me was steadfast. Overwhelmed with my Love for her, I carried her in my arms. Her smooth arms encircled my neck. She had her face very close to mine and lovingly played with my French beard, her face very close to mine... kiss was always inevitable. Ultimately her parents realized our love for each other and gave in. That never bothered us again even my strict and cautious parents who found their son careless had nothing to say. So with obstacles removed we continued our affair.

The last days of this vacation was very emotional. We knew we had to part and yet we wanted to be together forever. She used to cry every time we bid good bye and this time was no different. Her soft cheeks were wet with tears which I slowly kissed away assuring her to be back soon. Usually she used to see me off. This time she was not free, she had work in the morning while my train was in the afternoon, so I offered to drive her to her destination and I did. We stood at the gate hugging each other. Soon we became aware of people watching us. Finally she was persuaded to go.

 So.......

I put her water bottle around the neck, patted her back, straightened her id card, tousled her hair and shoved her gently into her nursery school gate. The school bell rang and I saw her disappearing into her kind.

Its four years now but our long distant love still stands strong.

My niece... Jissa Maria... my love.... the girl who captivated my heart and made me hers’ forever turned 4 on March 3rd on the same date I was born.

...........and this is my love story

Unmatched relations…

Meditation the newest mantra in this world of chaos .This mandatory ritual of our work place was supposed to make us more stress free (most probably it was to bear them). 20 minutes of sheer waste that's what I thought of it. I could productively use this time to download a music or play a game or WhatsApp. Why waste it on a thought less mind. After all isn't an empty mind devil's workshop? This thought amused me and I really wanted to know whether a devil resides in my mind so I closed my eyes to meet it.

It could be because of a casual remark by a colleague about women's day or a conversation I had heard before....my mind shifted to the many women in my life. My mother, sisters, sister like, girlfriends, wife. Everyone made their appearance on the reel of my mind and like a slow motion movie did their roles to perfection and left. My mind went blank. We have relations hence we love them, I wondered would these women have cared for me if I was not related to them.

Today on the eve of women's day I would like to fondly remember the two very special female relation who are more than just relations to me both have a hand at making me more healthy. Because of one I quit smoking and the other one brought down my habit of drinking. The irony here is that I started with these vices also because of women .At the age of 20 I lost my first love (that is if school days don't count). She disappeared as suddenly as she had appeared. I replaced her with drinks. The second one brought with her a series of mysterious tales to the extent that I wondered whether she was real. To reduce this tension I took to smoking. Soon smoking, drinking and I became inseparable.

I used to smoke in my quarters, my neighbour was a very pleasant lady living with her family. Whenever she would pass my door to her flat I could see her twitching her nose. The strong smell of cigarette bothered her. A casual acquaintance became a small friendship when she brought me a cup of tea after a tiring day. One day she gifted me a cigarette lighter. She openly made it clear that she knew I smoke. I justified saying that it was only few in number. Her tone was reprimanding, her voice gentle, her expressions caring and her attitude loving. I quit smoking. I had fallen for her genuine advice.

My second experience is in relation with my drinking. I made friends with a family near my work place. They were a family of four I used to call the gentleman my elder brother and addressed the lady as my sister. It was easy for the bachelor me to get along a new place with people of my own community. Soon we became good friends. Drinking became a pleasurable activity and soon an addiction. From having a bottle at a time to making a complete fool of myself I used to wander in-n-out from sense to senselessness and back. I don't remember how many times but it was always this family friends of mine who used to make me comfortable. After my mother I found her to be the most hospitable person I ever met. She never argued or advised me to quit drinking but she was always there to look after and care for me after it. Be it a cup of coffee after the hangover or gentle words of love and kindness she was always there when I needed her. I have not quit drinking but today I don't drink as much as I used to because I know nobody will care as much as she did.

The office bell rang signalling that the 20 minutes of meditation was up. I am more peaceful today. I realize the power of women. They are inborn with a caring nature. They care irrespective of a named 'relation'. I salute all women for their tireless, caring contribution to our society.

Happy women's day

My Younger Brother is Elder to me

The number game.

Hey guys I am back!!!! This time I have a riddle for you. I am born on 3rd of March while my brother is born on 1st of March ... Who do you think is the older one?

First of March..... Right??? My brother of course.... I knew it but it was difficult to make my family understand. They say it’s me. Come on, is it logical?  Third coming before First….. And this convincing had not started recently. From the earliest memory I have, when I was in the first grade to my 5^th, I have tried hard to convince. My brother's birthday cake came first then mine so how is it possible that I am the older one is my question.

I asked my mother, I was 8 then. She was the safer bet compared to my father for I was sure I wouldn't get a whack but even she did not have an answer, I think, but she smiled ... My Sherlock Holmes mind tried to decipher her smile. Was she hiding something? Another birthday passed and I was none the wiser. My hundred dollar doubt still continued. Why was I not the younger one? Now my stubbornness to prove my point had another perspective. The younger ones are the pampered lot. I have seen it among my cousins and even in my home. Only at our house my parents had got there numbering wrong. Third March comes after first. A casual remark from a relative ignited a spark "They look so similar, they could just pass for twins"... yes that's the answer... Our height weight and physique matched because we were twins.

 The study of science brought in some disappointing revelation. How could my mother give birth on 1st and then also on 3rd. So 'twins'..... No we were not. Then what was the surprise elemental. Being staunch Christians we children were taught Bible and prayers. We knew we could turn to God to solve a dilemma. As a 9 year old child, I regularly studied the bible. During one of the discourse, I had an enlightenment. 'I am a divine birth'  like my God above... that could  explain, my mother giving birth to me on 3rd after her 'normal' child on 1st. I felt elated... Yes that could be a possibility. So what if nobody called my mother Mary ...my father was Joseph.

Armed with my new information I was ready to face my demons. I have an answer to how my mother could give birth in a span of two days..... But my basic doubt still persisted..... How am I the elder one?

That was then, 3 decades earlier 31 years to be exact. Another March 3rd is fast approaching. I still muse over those childlike days when numbers never mattered. There was no logic in years. Innocent questions were asked and concluded innocently. I wonder whether children today would have such queries because if they do I have the answer now. I would say "it's all in the mind....it's a number game called years"

My brother who is elder to me by a date is younger to me by 3 years. Happy birthday dear brother and me too!!!!!

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Cheating...... Present Continuous

Trrringgg...... damn the alarm clock. I fumbled up to the off button and turned it off. Alarm clocks cheat you .You are forced to leave your dreams. I wanted to be away from reality for some more time. I glared at it .It confirmed the authentic time, unafraid. I was 10 minutes late for my morning walk. Being a punctual person I did not want to get up after the expected time so decided not to exercise. After all punctuality is a preferred value. I shouldn't cheat on that, should I?

I had around 45 minutes till my next task. I better not waste my time. I turned over, slid under the covers and promptly went back to my dreams couldn't cheat my dreams, could I?

'Shaving ‘day only added to the trauma of time management .I guess I did it yesterday or was it the day before. I ran my finger on my cheek and the short stables told a different story. I am not lazy, somebody has remarked that I have a careless carefree look. So now I have a French beard....I shave...what if ..  it's just half the face. I shouldn't cheat with my looks.

My punctuality has stood the test of time. I have never been caught late. I was always punctual else absent which was 75% of the time. The one thing I Pride myself is about my stint in various organisations I have worked. All of them needed me, they have never kicked me out, I have left because they did not deserve me. I couldn't cheat myself I justified. For me the grass was always greener on the other side Be it work or relation I was forever waiting for the grass to turn green I went out with 4 parallely and was never able to decide which one and  waited for the next one. I can't believe all of them left ... I mean How could they!!! I cheated myself into believing that the next one will bring the spring. Finally now I am growing my own greenery... I cheat with watering though!!!!

At least my friends are real. 500 of them from 12 countries but still faceless. In their Pursuit the faces around me, the real ones, dwindled and became faceless as Facebook. As the number of faces on my Facebook increased, the faces around me decreased but I still held on to 'Faceless Ness', I wouldn't cheat my friends, the virtual ones.

God is witness to the fact that I have never entered the church late. It is either on time or never. Churches have their own   time table unmindful of people like me. It even clashed with my Sunday movie show time. I had to take a stand. I decided to switch God. Internet became my new God. I religiously bowed my head on the alter.. You see.... internet never asked me to be on time so there was no cheating.

Another challenge was my doctor and health. I always go by what I have learnt. Being a very selective listener I only hear what applies to me..... laughter is the best medicine.... then why trouble yourself to a doctor... laugh your way to health. Experience tells me that the best laugh is after you are drunk, time-tested, tried and succeeded method I was so right to replace my doctor with the drinks I drank and laughed and I got rid of everything sadness, stress, troubles and finally friends and money.....but I still laugh to be healthy.

It is said 'where you are in life today is a result of series of decisions you have taken throughout' so here I am today, handling all life situations honestly and not cheating my way in life. I believe very few in the world can be as upright as me.

I hate writing but here I write

  "You're English is good" someone replied to the naughty one liner I had sent across on a chat. Here I was waiting for a similar repartee from my latest love interest and the only thing she had to say was that my English is good.

"Why don't you try your hand at writing" she continued.

I am open to light flirting but surely not Advisors .I concluded the chat with a customary thanks ....not interested anymore. Females have this unique capability of thrusting their opinions, advices suggestions, compliments all rolled into one and expecting it to be obeyed.

 I comply but only in the opposite direction. I cannot write, I hate to write .Choosing philosophical words adding a dose of psychology and flowery language is what we call literature. I am plain lazy. Who does it? Other than the likes of Shakespeare or Wordsworth, I can’t, I won't. I believe, to be a good writer, or let's just leave the epithet out, to be a writer we need to be a reader. I am a reader but my reading habits start with Facebook and ends on WhatsApp. Then who can I attribute my good English to.

Looking back I recollect my schooling. Definitely my teachers had a hand in my vocabulary .I tried to place myself back in my school days. I saw the little boy of 10 reading in the library after school hours. Hmmmm.....I guess I used to read. I was all independent by the age of fifteen. A new state, new language and hostel changed the reader into a more action oriented person. Reading was long forgotten but not the words. Furthermore it has always been my words and not my actions which has saved me in many life situations.

My first love letter was rejected so I presume I did not write well. The same love letter was used by my friend as well, still rejection I gave up writing. Speech is better I concluded. I struck gold when I realised my potential of using words to woo. My first flirt, my first job, my first love all came to me without Much Ado ....courtesy my perfect timing of the much needed vocabulary.

The world of Technology brought in many more features for entities like me. I learnt computers and here I opened the Treasure house of dreams and all the possibilities with it. Typing become faster, to the extent that I could think and type in sync. It was more authentic not made up at all. I did not stop for a moment to think.... words just flowed. I became a chat master. Lazy, but still open to a good chat. I even learnt to use emoticons suitably. I still Pride myself on 4 live Windows and a perfect chat accuracy and none have ever realise my multitasking.

Eventually I realised I am not a writer but a typer (typist to be accurate)... I can type well but I cannot write well. I can sit with a pen in my hand for hours and never put a word across. Words fail me when my tool is a pen and the same words brim and spill all over on Chat sessions. Small compliments, motivations, reinforcements took the toll on me and I wanted a bigger platform to perform my music ....writing, rather typing. This new interest propelled me to be a blogger. I unleashed the creativity in me. I am a lover of beauty, anything beautiful excites me. So I designed a beautiful blog page for me. And now hope creativity is at its best. Friends, loved ones, wished me well, in my endeavour to find the perfect place for my vocabulary. What can I tell them ... just this…?

 I hate to write but here I write.