Trust

You don't earn it

You can't win it

You ought to build it

Bit by bit

Block by block

And you did it

I could see it 

I could feel it

Thought it was strong

To weather all storm

Yet I knew it

When you did it

You build it 

to break it

Bared my soul 

in your eyes

In your arms

I felt alive

So much to say

yet words are few

And I keep rehearsing 

all the night

of the times gone by

When I could see you

Yet I knew it

It was never mine

So why I feel pain

And cry at night

Like I lost something

which was always mine

Why am I lost

Why am I hurt

I did no wrong

I lost nothing

Why did I try

to help it survive

And prayed to die

When you break it

It was yours

when you build it

I could see it

and told you about it

Before you could begin it

Coz in the end

We all build it

To break it

Termites and Madness

Perhaps we had a fight... and in the eerie silence ...that I always dread... I lay down beside you ... snugged beside you...I don't know when I fall asleep...you are sleeping too...

You come to my dreams....dressed all white ..in a white jacket... you appear real..more real than the reality itself... and then I see some ghost behind you... white ghosts that have eaten our relationship like termites... slowly made it hollow...eating it all from the inside eating it slowly but surely..eating it all and leaving nothing but dust... they are all hazy..I couldn't identify any of them..

I find myself calling your name...you smile back...the way you used to smile - the smile of contentment, the smile of the warmth of sun. I turn around and spread my left arm to you you take a step closer to me...but wait WHO AM I HOLDING ON TO???

And then you turn to two dressed all white and then four.... I couldn't identify the real you... I call out your name "Isha.. Isha.." and all the four Isha answers...Where are you? I can't find you?

Who is the real you?

I realize it is a dream... I squeeze you to wake you up... you get up and are seated saying "baby what happened?" but then the"Isha sitting beside me doubles and then there are five Isha seated beside me... There is something wrong....

I say that I can't find the real you...You try to soothe me but there are four other Isha's trying to touch me as well...I don't like that...I don't like being soothed by someone else -only you. Panic starts in me...I shout like a mad,"Don't touch me! I want the real Isha to touch me.."

You shout back,"Stop pulling of your stunts... It's very late" I on the other hand see you multiply - the nine Isha's become twelve... and then some more!! I don't even bother to count.

I am in panic mode...I shout louder and louder to find the real you! I run out to escape from the fake Isha's. Perhaps the real Isha also runs out to get some help... One of the Isha's run across the street to the only house on the deserted area. She calls out a name...and bangs on the door... I follow her ...the door opens and another Isha walks out... dressed the same way the way you are in bed...

Horrified..I run out to the street the earlier deserted street are now walked by girls in black hoods and in pairs -perhaps they are streetwalkers. Just to get away from you I turn to them...

I see their face- they are identical twins!! I turn the other group of four... they are two pairs of identical twins....I look at the others... They all are identical twins!!!

I look at them in as much surprise as they look at me and then they all turn to Isha. I back away from them and see a group of people coming towards me...

When they come closer I realize they are all me - Ashwin.... And then I realize there are some more Ashwin gathered around me.

This must be a nightmare...and you wake up from nightmare if you call the God's name. I try that but things change for worse. I can't identify the real me!! As for Isha's just grow more in number -almost all wearing jackets and dressed in single colour.There are white Isha'a and red Isha. Isha in purple and Isha in blue.

I try to identify the real me - something that only I have- the bracelet that you gave me. Eyes and ears can fail but sense of touch remains. I remember the contours of the bracelet and I know that I am the real Ashwin. I try to identify you, by your bracelet.

After a dozen Isha I find the bracelet that the real Isha wears. I am relieved to find you...atleast I am pleased that I found my Isha. I hug u tight and just then an Isha comes and gives me her hand. Instinctively I touch and feel her bracelet - there is another real Isha....

And then I find everyone else is a real Isha and real Ashwin..

I am, hysterical and crying to find the real you..I need to end this nightmare... I sit down and pray - to chant a verse as another Ashwin tries to choke and pull me up. An Isha says... you know that your Isha won't hurt you. Your Isha wants you to go where these Isha want to take you. I am carried away by four Isha who hold on to my limb. As I hear an ambulance siren, I slowly begin to lose my consciousness.

When I regain my senses, I find no Isha or Ashwin...I am alone in a dark room. I am glad that my nightmare is over. I see no one! Relishing the feeling, I go out to the huge lawn. And damn there are Isha everywhere. Heck there is even a dog-Isha! There are also a few Ashwin.

I hear the voice of my father but cannot see him. I can hear him say, "I told him to take rest after his illness or he could go mad..." I hear Mom and you sob... I feel guilty to let them down... I need to know my real Isha. I feel guilty to not to be able to find the real you even if I am Mad!!!

I need to ask God for help. Prayer won't help! I need to meet him!

I grab a bunch of sticks and force it through my wind pipe...I am choking.. my eyes feel heavy....

I am panting for air...my eyes open....I am panting more than Dog...I am panting like I have been choked to death... I am panting for continuous ten minutes before my pants become human.. I turn my head... I am still in a dark room...

I see a small blue LED blinking...I realize it's a the LED of my Laptop....I dozed of in the night. With shivering hands I "wake up my computer" It's 4:28 AM.

I experienced the desperation of a mad man for almost two hours... I am ashamed of making light of the word before. I wish I hadn't used the term Mad so lightly ever.

I am still panting while I dial the Isha's number. I cut the call before a ring...She must be sleeping! And I don't want to hear , " Stop trying to pull one of your stunts!"

I think of calling her in the morning, no it will spoil her morning. I think of calling her in the evening but I will spoil her otherwise nice day. I can't tell her what I feel these days without picking up a fight. And I have already prepared and given her enough substance for another round of fights for today.

I realize the termites that have eaten away our relationship - the ghosts that I foresaw and could do nothing. She would hear none of it...Wish she would understand...Wish I could communicate to her as I used to... but I have to tell someone...

I have to let it go... I wipe the sweat off my forehead as I write this story... what should I call it... Ah ..."Termites and Madness"

PS: Chill Guys It is Fiction!

The Sailor: Part -5

Continued from Part1, Part 2, Part 3 and Part 4

"Disappointed " ... Disappointed he was that it had become dark... Disappointed he was that he had to return home... Disappointed he was that he was still alive... and disappointed he was, when he walked back in the dark, on that day...

She spoke a lot that day... She said anything and everything...and he loved her lips when she animatedly spoke "anywhich ways" ... he never told her that her lips were the most kissable thing on earth when they seductively moved to her "anywhich ways" ...

He could never remember what she said on that day... except for her "anywhich ways" ... and before he could come to his senses, the stars had come out in the sky and she was gone...

She was gone... just gone. How he had wished that he should have taken her number...her address... her college... her street... her colony... anything that could help him to find her.... anything but then again she was a witch ... and she had cast a spell over him.

However, she was his witch.. she was his Ansh... she knew him better. She had left him her number... well not exactly her number.. but her room-mate's number. Mobile were still expensive in those days...and they used to charge even for incoming... " anywhich ways" as Ansh would say... he had her number. She had written it down on his hand... She had written it down with a piece of coal.

There was a time when people used to write to their lovers with blood, later they preferred using pen, but this was Pune, the oxford of the East. Students at his time never carried a pen... but that does not stop anyone from loving. And she improvised... she took a piece of charcoal or coal from the nearby Hawker selling roasted maize and gave him his no. How naive he was ... that small act looked so cute...

Even when he remembered it today, a smile spread on the corner of his lips. It was a cute gesture indeed... if God shows sign from above then perhaps it was God's sign that the relationship was always written in black. God! how he loved her...how madly he was in love with her... those days were so wonderful....Being with her was so wonderful...

"Let's Go Home", he shouted at his dog. The young Alsatian followed his master in the dark alleys.

"Mental Fixation" - he muttered to himself "I guess that's the term they use in Psychology". perhaps something like that happened to him. "She was a mental fixation... she was my mental block...Damn she was.... She was the best thing that happened to me..."

He remembered that night... he came to his hostel and learnt how to sms... It was so tech-savvy thing then and he had texted Ansh for her address. How his classmate had voluntarily given him his mobile and the number of assurances that he would only SMS and not even pick a call. SMS in those days were free... and the bike he borrowed.

And the jump from the balcony on first floor... how he had sprained his ankle in the process... and then jumping the hostel boundary wall and a good 200 metre walk in the jungle to the dhabba...

and then he reached the bike... Students were not allowed to keep bikes in campus and Pune was not the concrete jungle then...

And then it was easy...Just reach at Ansh's PG.. climbing up the pipe to the third floor with a sprained ankle and no light...and just talk to Ansh sitting on the window ledge...

"I was a fool" , he muttered to himself I did everything that they show in movie... "Perhaps there can be no love story without the boy climbing up a pipe - atleast not an Indian love story!"

"Who knows even Prince Salim must have climbed up a pipe to meet his Anarkali! What do you say kid?", he chuckled at his own joke as he patted his companion...

And then it was time to bring his enfield to Pune. He ensured that nobody at his hostel rode pillion on his bike for which he parked at another shanty some two KM away fro his hostel. He even use to pay the Shanty-owner money to taker care of his bike .

Soon he became pro.. at eleven jump out of the balcony on first floor, climb over the barbed wired hostel boundary wall, move soundlessly for another 200 metre, run through the wild to reach the Shanty, reach Ansh's PG, sneak past the watchman, climb up the pipe to the third floor, tie the rope ladder from the bed, help Ansh to get down.. And then UP, UP and AWAY!!! for three and a half hour.

He used to sneak Ansh back in at 3:30, take the rope-ladder away as Ansh's PG was often checked, park the bike at the shanty, run two KM through the wild again, reach hostel by 5:oo, bribe the mess cook with "bidi" & cigarette walk past the sleeping watchman. Get ready, for the compulsory morning exercise and seven KM jog to stay fit !!! He was always the ideal student except he the "ideal" was now spent as "idle". As soon as the projector was switched on in the class, and lights dimmed he dozed.

Grades dipped but Love dripped everywhere....

"Karate made me tough...but love made me tougher..", he laughed at himself ... as he entered his house...