Thought Detonation #24 – A ‘Flight’ with Colours

I came through a blogging contest called “Take flight with colours” which was organized by Indiblogger (www.Indiblogger.in) and HP (http://www.hp.com/in/laserjet). It asks us to think of something black and white which we would love to see in colour. Good thing is, it never said it must be limited to just one thing. How could a flight be restricted anyway? *Smile* A flight must have no restrictions; of time, space, meaning and vision. So I just sat down thinking and came up with this weird list. These are things I would love more if coloured.

I wish these white-washed walls of my cottage were a bit colourful, probably like wings of a butterfly. I love when the shades change when they flap them. I wish the blue ink my pen spills was a bit colourful, probably like G-Force visualization. I love the way it randomizes itself. I wish the cold pale water in my glass was a bit more colourful, probably like a young lady’s painted lips. Who would not love water droplets on colorful lips which change colour every day? I wish my wooden door was a bit more colourful, probably like an art gallery. I am tired of brown paint on brown wood. I wish a break-up was a bit colourful, probably like a first yes. How can you forget the feeling when whole world gets mute and only thing you hear is her voice …“Yes”. I wish my heart was a bit more colourful, probably like the feelings it holds. Feelings holding a million colours don’t quite fit in a pale heart. I wish the seas and oceans I see from a beach were a bit more colourful, probably like the youth I behold while I stand looking at it. Colours would defiantly add to the music and the hush only sounds of waves can create. Not to forget the thrill of watching it on a full moon night. I wish my purani jeans was a bit more colourful, probably like a hug from the old mate who gifted me that. If only I could spill all my colourful memories with pals on my jeans, I wouldn’t have wished this. Who can forget old mates, the selfless concern and love that they can create? I wish these skies were a bit more colourful, probably like syllables of urdu. I wonder how the world would look if all sounds change to colours. Could we actually ‘see’ what we utter? I wish the air around was a bit colourful. So a child’s innocence could be answered – “bhaiya, agar hawa hoti hai to dikthi kyu nahi?” I wish this city crowd was a bit more colourful, probably like their ‘clothes’. I wish pain was a bit colourful, probably like an artist’s colour pane. I wish music was a bit more colourful. So I could let my eyes ‘watch’ the “eargasms” created by dead sounds. I wish the uniforms of soldiers in a march-past were a bit more colourful, probably like belly dancing. It would have been such a treat to watch instead of enjoying potato chips. I wish the gun’s lead was a bit more colourful. I wish the hospital’s bed was more colourful, probably like a bed of flowers. Yet the only colour we see on hospital sheets is red. I wish if blood was a bit more colorful, probably like the first kiss. That is the only time when your ‘eyes are closed’, yet you see colours flared. Rest time it is all temporary darkness, if not for ever. I wish if dessert sands were a bit more colourful. I wish if the dry rain drops were a bit more colourful, probably like a fat wedding in Punjab. I wish the white plastic chairs lined outside a mortuary were a bit more colourful, probably like first love. When colours spill out and there are no mourning and no wet eyes. I wish the white mint in my pocket was a bit more colourful, probably like fireworks. I lose my freshness the moment I see pale mints. I wish silence between dead couples was a bit more colourful, probably like late night vodka they shared earlier. I wish shaking legs in anxiousness before interview was a bit more colourful, probably like tapping them on dance floor after being promoted. What can match the party you through when your salary is increased? I wish my daily routines were a bit more colourful, probably like pizzas on a weekend. I wish the dentist-in-white-coat was a bit more colourful, probably like a nurse-in-white-skirt. Now this white thing is so damn colourful. I wish fractured bones were a bit more colourful, probably like the touch of velvet, or maybe like a love letter. I wish ‘middle-noon sun’ was a bit more colourful, probably like ‘an early sunrise’. I wish the black tinted glass of my car was a bit more colourful, probably like dark chocolate. I wish my ‘colour-blind’ eyes were a bit more colourful, probably like an old women’s gossip. I wish my life was a bit more colourful, probably like picture post cards. Everything seems so perfect when still and colourful. I wish my blog was a bit more colourful, probably like long-dusty-bound-free-roads, but it is not…

PS : 1) The only thing I actually wish is if this monotonous world was a bit more colourful. Everything else is just a corollary.

2) And I did love to see Sri 420 (movie) in colour. Precisely, the song “mera joota hai japani...”

3) Each line has a double plank. Think about it…

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Thought Detonation #23 – Devotion

It has been nearly five years since Ryan’s last visit to a temple, or any other religious place. Today he found out why it was so, and why he never missed god in his life.

Dear diary,

I was sitting in a bus, DTC’s red AC bus to be precise. As usual I was busy with my thoughts. (When you manage a blog this serious, with no one else’s help, because you think they might interfere with what you actually wanted to say, you keep thinking all the time). Anyways, I was sitting in the DTC’s red AC bus. It was a cool morning and the tinted glass windows made it a treat to look at the skies above, a light brown colour sky with light yellow colour clouds. It seemed perfect like an edited photo, with perfect hue saturation. The bus, though a ‘new bus’ - like we call it, was now rickety. It doesn’t actually matter what you gift the people in metro cities. They just personalize it in their own ways. DTC had procured high end busses for Delhi roads, but Delhi roads are quickly turning them to blue-lines again. They were dented badly, thanks to the ex-blue-line drivers who now drove 60 lakhs of Indian tax-payers, apart from being government funded, with utmost devotion to god, sticking posters of lord Sai and Krishna all over their dashboard and non-authorized advertisements at other places. The conductor had drawn an arrow to point at his seat and had scribbled ‘Candacter Seet’ (Conductor’s seat) with a nail polish. So brilliant – a posh looking red TATA Marcopolo with red nail polish graffiti – so wow! Anyways I was in DTC’s red AC bus just sitting idle, thinking to kill my time. I feel so broken now-a-days that I don’t even care checking out girls. I barely open my eyes full; neither do I shut them completely while I sleep. So I guess I always stay in a ‘half sleepy’ mode. I have grown a little beard and I plan not to shave again in my whole life.

“Do you mind getting up?” a soft voice asked me from behind. I came to my senses, strained my eyes to open wide, managed to keep my equilibrium and turned around.
“Can you please get up? This is a ladies-seat.”
“You mean it is a seat reserved for ladies, right?” I got up with some difficulty and made way so she could move in. Maybe I should start eating from today. I was turning weak and I felt dizzy when I got up suddenly. I almost felt like I was blacking out. I had to move my feet a couple of times to keep balance.
“Bloody Drunkards” the cutie yelled and rested her bums on the seat. I smiled at her in pity.

So there I was – in DTC’s red AC bus, now standing because some trendy chick got me dislocated within 30 seconds and the bus was passing by a temple. The way my hottie prayed, I knew she was a Hindu. She joined both her hands and put them in front of her while she murmured some things. I liked to see her lips move. Not because she was a hottie, but because she was ‘my hottie’ now. I knew I was going to write about her stupidity tonight. It somehow made me constantly look at her and smile foolishly a couple of times whenever she looked me in eyes. I was making her quiet uncomfortable as she pulled her bag and half-hugged it, so I couldn’t stare at her ‘assets’. She looked at me again; she knew that I knew why she had done that. Now this was too much for me. I didn’t even look there once. It wasn’t my intention in the first place.

“Are you alright?” I startled her. She was too scared I guess. Tall brown guy, unshaved, heavy eyelids, shabby hair, dizzy and dead slow at his actions, and I am so good at scaring chicks – wow!
“Excuse me!!” She hugged her bag tighter.
“I asked if you are alright.”
“And what makes you presume I am not?”
“You think I am drunk?”

She kept silent and kept drifting in her seat to get away from me. I rested my hands on her arm-rest. I blew air on her face. Apart from my bad breath she couldn’t smell liquor. Well how could she? I hadn’t had a sip in ages.

“So you think I am drunk?”
“No. Not now. I thought…You couldn’t stand straight and you look…” she paused.
“I look like filth?” I smiled again, this time close to her face, “Guess what? Even my girlfriend is mad at me.”

So till now the scene is such – I am in this DTC’s red AC bus, I have a girlfriend and I am fluent in English. Though my hottie was stupid, but she wasn’t stupid enough to still think of me as a drunkard.

“Actually I am diagnosed to be suffering from chronic dengue. Some air-headed mosquito decided to new pinch me an early morning. Now I have some serious drop in my blood platelet levels. They say it has no cure except popping paracetamols and resting. So they will be admitting me today. I threw up every time I ate in last 4 days and I can’t sleep now-a-days due to this high fever”, I put my hand in front of her which she touched and was shocked.
“You are hot!!” She couldn’t control my temperatures I guess and shouted this loud enough to let the whole bus hear it. Many heads turned towards us with a look – ‘if he is hot then I gunned down Osama’.

“I am so sorry. You should have told me to let you sit. I am so stupid at times.” You see she admitted. Didn’t I tell you my hottie was stupid? She was about to get up to let me sit.
“AIIMS” (read-aims) the conductor shouted.
“Perfect timing baby. I am off here.” I just smiled at her, more important, she smiled back.
“I am really sorry for this. I had no clue or else I would have let you sit.”
“My girlfriend would love to meet you. I did write about you tonight if they let me use a laptop. You are not only stupid but blind.”

She was startled by my sudden unappealing choice of words but tried to smile half heartedly.
“Next time you grab your ladies-seat make sure the guy is not a drunkard. He could load you with enough curses to compensate for your 100 hand-joints.”

She understood what I was referring to. Joining hands in front of a temple is just not enough if you piss off someone who was as sick as me. I was bugging the lady a lot I guess. Moreover she was hot. Hot girls, generally, aren’t supposed to be bugged by guys.
“You know you are pretty, but like this DTC’s red AC bus; Marcopolo outside but blueline inside. It doesn’t matter however pretty you are in these metro cities, the city personalizes you to be cocky. Such is the similar analogy between chicks in busses.”
“I said I was sorry. Please don’t be angry.” She made a face which pulled out mother Teresa out of me.
“It’s cool. I am not angry at all. You are too much of a chick to make me angry.”

I got her smiling again and blushing. We had reached our stop and the automatic doors opened. I raised myself from leaning onto her and started to walk towards the door.

“Hey. Stop. Can I have a number, email id maybe?”
“Not too soon dear.” and I kept moving. She had risen from her seat and walked behind me. I got down from the bus but she didn’t. Of course it was my stop, not hers’.
“Hey. Wait. I don’t even know your name. Listen.”

The automatic doors shut and I winked at her. She stood near the gate and kept looking at me till the bus went out of my sight.

So there I was – Outside AIIMS ready to get admitted, in style.

PS : 1) I wonder how people in the bus might have thought her to be mad. She felt and ugly-sick guy hot and ran behind him to get his number. I totally love this thing about girls.

2) This is precisely the reason why I never visit religious places. I don’t deserve to be there. If I look inside, I am even more stupid that my hottie. Whenever I visited a temple (though it was a long time ago) I felt ashamed. I had abandoned my friends when they needed me most. I had compromised with my life to please a few people. I had done wrong to those less fortunate than me. I know I was not clean enough to be at a religious place. When I stood in front of god with my eyes closed, it made me feel ashamed. I didn’t want to replay all my bad memories in which my inability to act right had hurt people around me. It was painful and scary. I could have stood beside them if it were some other time. Everyone needed me at times when I was broke myself. I was too busy sorting out my own life when they needed me for support. How could I support them then? I had no way but to pretend, to be even more stupid than my hottie in bus today. She didn’t even know that she was offending. But I knew I was wronging the people I cared for, yet I did it for a few personal benefits. It’s all fucked up. It’s all messed. I guess its remorse. It does not matter how insightful you are, or how true are you to yourself, or how good hearted you are; this world just personalizes you to be betrayer. Such is a funny similar analogy between buses, chicks and life. All are bitches.

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Thought Detonation #22 – Hospital ‘Breakthrough’

It was a damn hot afternoon while Rohan and I waited for Ankita and Sakshi besides the subway. The worst part was we were in Rohan’s car - An all-angle-dented-Grey Santro.
“Dude you car sucks big time! I feel like peeing on its top to cool it down.”
“Why don’t you just stay shut up? It’s 48 degrees outside. How the fu*k do you expect the AC to work? We have just started, not even 10 minutes yet!”
“Well I hate your car. That’s it. It sucks really huge. Last time you blew up a tyre at Milakpur. I m glad I am still alive. I bet the patients in this hospital enjoy better cooling than us”, I said as I pointed to the five storey hospital building on the opposite side of the road.

Rohan raised an eyebrow. “You think you want to check out?” He smiled at me as he said this. I knew what he meant. We had lots of time to kill as we were waiting for girls and parking was not a problem as we were stuck in traffic. Traffic in Delhi moves with a speed of inches per hour. So it wasn’t any trouble. Rohan pulled over to the pavement and navigated through the pedestrians to park the car in the park beside. (Yes you can do that in my city.)

We got down and walked across the road. Traffic on both sides – like a zebra laid on road wherever you want. You can cross roads blindfold because you know no car would move. It’s just the reflected sunlight and heat that radiates off the car bonnets that almost dehydrates your face while you walk eight lanes. But we did it. As we were done crossing we realized that we actually stood near the subway.
“Dumb*ss, Why didn’t you tell me we had a subway built here?”
“Well even you were eyed enough to see it, weren’t you? Don’t give me reasons to make you donate your eyes at this hospital today.”
“You how stupid was this? It was like peeing a public urinal to aim at the phenyl balls.”
“Oh so you have done that as well?”
“Come-on everyone does that.”

So there we were – at the main entrance of hospital. It was a modern building covered all with glass.
“You know why they put glass on the building?”
“Umm…So you can comb your hair looking at it?” Rohan pulled out a comb from his pocket and started doing his hair.
“Hmm…No. Because they want to save the cost of plastering the outer wall.”
“Oh is it so? My bad.” Rohan made a face and slid back the comb in his pocket.

We went in and passed through the reception area unnoticed. As soon as we were in corridors we knew that we had gate-crashed the hospital successfully. We ran across the subsequent doors maneuvering between doctors, nurses, patients and assistants.
“Can you please let me run behind you?”
“And why so?”
“I feel like Rose running away from Jack this way. That way I would feel Jack chasing Rose.”
“Such a sucker!”

We arrived at the surgical ward. A place full of broken/cut-open/torn/stitched/mutilated people. One old folk turned towards us while in his bed and said, “Looking for someone?”
“Oh no! We are just hanging around”, I confused the oldie.

There was another middle-aged dude in his bed. “Son, can you please set the time and date in my phone? I just gave my phone to someone for making a call and he fiddled with the settings.”

“Nah its cool dude”, I took the phone and set date and time.
“Check out his memory. This guy looks a pimp”, prompted Rohan.
“You see that plastic bag hanging over there?”
“Yeah. What’s that used for? What’s that yellow fluid in there?”
“He pees in it.”
“What!! In a plactic bag?”
“Yup. Can you guess why?”
“Probably his shaft doesn’t work”
“Yup. So I am not wasting my time searching his memory.”

I returned the dude his phone with a wink. “Auntyji must be having a tough time with you”, clarified Rohan. We left him mesmerized and pondering over what we just said and moved out of the room. A little further in the gallery we came across a huge glass door. In fact, there were three successive glass doors one after the other and then there was a glass window. We peeped in through glass doors covering eyes with hands to avoid our own reflections in it and get a look of what was inside. A curtain was drawn on the glass window, so all we could see was a couple of shoes removed in front of us and many green colored apron kind of things, more of a convocation dress than an apron to be precise.
“Should we go in?” asked Rohan.
“Have you gone nuts? You know why there are successive glass doors here?”
“Nah. It’s like a lab of some sci-fi movie.”
“Dude all these consecutive sections are to sterilize any possible microbes on the visitors. I guess cancer patients are kept in this ward. They have nearly zero immunity. At times a simple fever can kill them. You see not even shoes are allowed inside and you need to change to these green clothes before entering”, I said as I pointed to the changing room on out left.
“That’s so sad. How do you know about it?”
“Read it somewhere, maybe online I guess.”

We were in midst of our knowledge exchange when a middle-aged dark man came out of the room. He was coming towards us. Initially we thought of just moving away but we didn’t. He came close to us and just the glass door was between him and us.
“Why are you here?”
“We are looking for our relative. Even he is admitted in this ward”, he didn’t look like the hospital staff so we could lie anything.
“Only my daughter lives in this ward. She is four years old. She is suffering from blood cancer since last two years. It was treated once but now it has reappeared. Doctors will be transplanting bone marrow from my elder daughter into her. So we are hoping she will survive”, he told us everything in one go. He wasn’t complaining or angry with us because we lied to him, or because we were sticking around. Probably he was too preoccupied to be angry with us. Rohan and I were feeling a bit uncomfortable. His mellow sadness flowed from his eyes to ours through the glass door.
“Can we see her, uncle?”
*pause*
“Sure beta. Just stay here while I ask Rajini to open the curtains”, he said to us and moved back inside.
I could see him telling his wife to slide the curtains so that we could see her daughter. She slid the curtains. A little girl in yellow dress was standing in her bed. She was jumping on it as she watched cartoons. Uncle moved to us again and said, “Only her mother is allowed to be with her. Even I can go just till the last door. They don’t allow me to enter the room.” She was still jumping and her mom pointed us to her. She turned to us and started waving her hand. She was saying something but we could not hear her. Her dad smiled back and waved. Rohan and I were perplexed and stood still as if we were frozen.
“How old is her elder sister?”
“She is thirteen. Doctors will be taking some bone marrow from her body.”

I actually never asked him the latter part; it just showed me how disturbed he was. But he never showed. He smiled fully and looked normal. Rohan and I were in sweat. The air conditioner was so perfect there, unlike in Rohan’s car - The all-angle-dented-Grey Santro, but still we were feeling restless and choked. The girl had blood cancer, was in captivity and would probably die. Reoccurred cancer is rarely treated perfectly again. Yet she was happy and nothing was stopping her from jumping in her bed. She was happy and she could show world that she was.

“Please give me way”, said uncle as he moved out of the glass door we were standing next to. He was carrying a toy set which had replicas of a doctor’s instrument.
“They didn’t allow her toys also. Now I am going to the sterilization facility to treat them. They will allow then.”

This was too much for us. It’s so sarcastic. She wanted to play with those toys. She would probably die in front of a doctor!
I couldn’t take it anymore. Rohan shook a bit as he suppressed his sob. We saw uncle move away from us and we looked at the girl for one last time.
“Let us get out of here.”

We went back to our car. This time we used the subway of course. We saw Ankita and Sakshi standing there.
“Where the fu*k have you both been?”
“Sakshi just get in and no f-words for next 20 minutes.”

We all got in the car and drove away.

PS : I hope that girl survives. I did love to see her grow older and never be in hospital again.

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Thought Detonation #21 - Nightmare

It was 19th of May, 2013. Lieutenant Abhay was first officer to the Naval Chief. He stood with the Admiral at the Howrah Bridge as they saw red flares flying from the Bay of Bengal into the skies above.

Lt. Abhay pulled out a reference “Sir, shooting a bright red flare during a sail…”
“Indicates distress and need of assistance.” The Admiral turned his face towards his first officer.

His look was grave. Like a father who received the news of his son’s death.
“This was our last destroyer. How many K-Class are still ready for sail? What is the army up to? Fix me on line with the centre.”

They had lost all their destroyers since last December at regular intervals. And this red flare today, put an end to their count. The Navy was crippled now. Lt. Abhay knew that he was alive only because he was first officer to the Admiral. Had he been a regular Naval Officer, he would have been firing that red flare.

Time wasn’t good. It was war, a different kind of war, with a different kind of species. They were trying to claim their authority over earth. These were closely associated with homo-sapiens but had nearly ten times their thinking power and surprisingly efficient mutation capabilities. Their enormous thinking power gave them extraordinary decision making capabilities and swiftness. They had taken to war against humans in last December. Since then the causality ratio had been traumatizing, 1: 11,49,876. UNO was dead. The joint military did not stand them for more than five days and went down in seas. That was when all nations pulled out from UN and decided to save their territories individually.

These were literati-sapiens (as called by homo-sapiens). They looked exactly similar to humans, with two arms, two legs, two eyes except for the fact that they had a swollen skull to accommodate their brain and their skin was sensitive to light and had taste buds. literati-sapiens had an exoskeleton structure, only .50 caliber sniper bullets could pierce them and yet it never killed them. Their essential organs were protected by a second layer of skeleton structure. We know it because military could manage to get two dead specimens of their type. Average weight was estimated to be 180 kilos and their physique was scaring. They had an average height of 7 feet. This species had striking similarities between each of the specimens. Their identification codes were sketched on each sample as simply looking at them could not help to distinguish between them. Moreover they did not have male or female sex. This meant they reproduced by cloning the daughter cells from a parent. Something like tissue culture. So each parent could actually breed to give a thousand more. They had incredible learning speed. Back in February when they got over the USS Arleigh Burke in midst of its sail, It took them an hour to reach the shore and it took US Navy next eight hours to evacuate the port of Virginia. They were lethal. They already had taken over half the world – most of the west and now most of Asia was under their control. Within their short activity period of six months, they knew 32 international languages, fluently and it took them seconds before they could decipher military communication signals. All nuclear power plants were taken over by them and most of the dams built were destroyed. The thermal stations weren’t a problem; they could shut them any day, if needed. They powered their own equipments with them. The gulf was under their control and oil production was down. ‘Still-independent countries’ were trying their best to produce enough energy for their military. Some countries had even taken to mass cycle-powered generators to charge submarine batteries. With no fuel, most of Indian warships were floating ducks. Russia had withdrawn all its naval assistance and now there were no nuclear powered vessels to guard the Indian coast. Global population was 2,654,557,800. Yes, the time wasn’t good indeed.

“Sir, the rail track on this Bridge has been checked and your train will be arriving in a few minutes. The centre has issued orders to relocate you and the three Vice Admirals to New Delhi. This train has been specially built for military and can withstand up to 1500 kg/cm2 of pressure which gives it ability to stay unaffected from mid-range rockets and grenades. However, if the train derails then you are advised to lock yourself in this chamber in carriage no.3 from the direction of motion”, said Abhay pointing at a shaded block on the blue print. The naval chief pushed the instructions away from himself, “That’s fine Lieutenant. I’ll go through it later.”

The train shuffled in and stopped right in middle of Howrah Bridge. It was in 1971 when a train ever ran on these tracks last time. The service was closed due to heavy traffic on Howrah Bridge. It’s so ironic that today there was not a single fellow on the Bridge. It was captured by the Navy and used as a depot. Losing that bridge would mean giving access of all Indian rivers to the enemy. Indian Navy just couldn’t afford loosing this bridge. Probably this was the reason Admiral himself had his shelter on the Bridge.

“Sir, and you are to transfer the charge to other senior officials at Kolkata. Your preferences maybe Rear Admiral Kaushav, Rear Admiral Sanjay Yadav, Rear Admiral Ramakant Swamy or Commodore SK Singh. I have got no instructions to accompany you to New Delhi so I will be staying here with the fleet.”

“What’s the news from Mumbai and Visakhapatnam?”

“Sir Mumbai can withstand the attacks for a couple of more days. They are deficient to resist Admiral Kuznetsov and Admiral Ushakov which were gained over by ‘them’ 12 days ago. There has been no evidence of ‘their’ capability to fly Sukhois yet. But they do have 8 Sukhois onboard which is a great threat. Cochin has been taken over yesterday 5pm IST and orders of mass evacuation have been issued. There is no data indicating the loss/causalities yet. However, safeguarding civilians remains our first priority. The Visakhapatnam port has been jammed. They sunk two of our submarines at the mouth of passage which have made it hazardous for our large ships to sails over. There is no clearance for heavy vessels to move out of the port but lighter C-Class vessels are trying their best to resist the attack while the debris is cleared.”

The admiral laid his hand on Abhay’s shoulder and got into the coach. He knew what that touch mean. Dr. Hasan Ali, scientific advisor to Prime Minister had called it a ‘natural event which was ought to happen someday’. Humans had claimed this world because of their intelligence, and now someone else is doing the same.

The Admiral got into the coach and the train began to move. Lieutenant Abhay stood there as he looked the train shuffle by. Getting the Admiral out of Kolkata meant India knew it was going to lose Kolkata soon. Abhay stood there as the train went away. He kept looking at the yellow cross (X) mark on the last coach which flashed blue light….

Hell!!!! Wait a minute! Trains flash a red light not blue! Damn!!!
I woke myself from sleep and got up in shock. I was in my bed.
“F*ck! What was that! Probably I need some water."

"All a writer’s heart wishes is readers. If you find this work interesting then do share it liberally within your network."

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