written in solitude(the realization)

It was an eerie feeling... walking in the middle of the crowd but yet he felt so lonely.............an inexplicable feeling.sizzling lights were all around him decorating the streets ,a baul song coming out of the speaker along with the bustling noises of the crowd that followed, while he passed in between them,he recalled the moment when he was sitting in the park exactly one hour back.











He was there sitting on the grasses along with thousand others who joined in to sit under the moon enjoying the cool breeze of the open stadia.He was smoking his sixth cigarette in a row wondering about his lungs.Seven of his Friends were with him who talked among each other while he looked into their faces."its a habit of being alone in a crowd I have inherited from the past ........ I don't blame me for that anymore"-he realized.With nothing to do he gazed at his watch, which was a given to him as a present from someone special.......it was three am in the morning.He took a glimpse of the people around him ..."not many" -he said to himself,but when he was about to withdraw his rolling eyes from the crowd , his eyes caught a known face... a face he knew since a long time,there she was smiling at him......... he stood up and went towards her







she was a friend and his partner for a long time in his college days. Someday during the summers of the last year she realized they could not make it through.She went for a break up and went for an another guy whom she considered more worthy than him in every aspect.He never blamed her for this after all he knew he was a vagabond and sometimes blunt and not caring...







But there she standing in front of him.... he went towards her .....hugged her for one last time... smiled to his new found partner and before his moist eyes could fail holding his tears any longer,he waved her good bye..



He is a good man he realized "perhaps more better than me. I considered him to be my competitor for all these days but on that very moment I felt like a father who had given away his beloved to some one other."he whispered to himself.

he moved out of the place and started walking......taking the wrong roads and wrong turns .today he didn't wanted to return home....he wanted to walk ....... in quest of solace.....

The morning sun was about to rise ,all the sky has turned red while he walked lost in the middle of the road ,he has been a traveller all his life time,he knew all this life that there is nothing called a destination, all roads in this world links to another,so there is no point in relaxing in the middle of the path and call it home ,but at this very point he wanted to settle his tired body,he took refuge in the local roadside tea stall .........."why is the sky crying like me??"he wondered.

and there was no answer he could find.....

sometimes after... the morning sun rose clearing the red sky ......

he looked up towards the road that looked long ..... disappearing into the thin fog ,leading to somewhere he doesn't even know........he saw no end to it .....

He went up and started walking on the path ........not knowing where will it lead to, but he was not afraid ,neither was he alone any longer.........

He has found the answer what he was searching for.... he smiled to himself and took his stride .....while his eyes remained moist...

It was Sunday and as usual the morning alarm rang .But he was already awake from midnight .All the night it had been raining very hard and through the window, in the dark of the night he could hear the raging wind, and see the silhouette of the trees bending and submitting themselves to the unruly wind .

The daybreak was late than usual with wet leaves scattered all over the balcony. It was seven in the morning when the alarum broke his passive disturbance
She was his friend ,even something more than that he believed ...she was his love to whom he was never able to confess.

It had been years since then, with no contact with her what so ever but still her dreams were as fresh as the morning dew without which he never had a night.

All the night he had been thinking of her-when he met for the first time in school ............ eight years back............an unforgetable saga of memories followed .His half sleepy eyes were wide open while a tired mind reconciled the events.

It was yesterday when he met her again while he was on his way to college. She was engaged and waiting to be married soon .They refreshed some nostalgic moments which they shared together.She left with a promise to call him sometimes after.

At 8:00 in the evening a known noise disturbed his day dreaming.He grasped his breath and attended the call.It was her.She wanted to meet him for the one last time before she leaves the town,he agreed.
It was nine in the morning and he was sitting in the local cafe.... a big clock hung in front of him constantly reminded him of the time. "She will come come in a few minutes.." he said to myself, "I know her well its been her habit since school days ,she was never on time and I always used to wait for her, be it in front of school or any place else."...he thought
The clock reminded him again that its been an hour since then and the cup of coffee with which he was sitting had already turned cold.Time passed slowly,and painfully, when he realized that it was already noon.

His phone rang soon afterward and he attended the call .It was her voice,she could not make it to the cafe as she was busy, she said.She is leaving for her home on today evening and two months hence she will be married and leaving the country.No hopes for returning to this town for the next seven years. Asked him to attend the marriage.The invitation card will be send by post she said.

Written in solitude (the open window)

The rain had drenched the city streets,could see that from the window.Could not see any soul on the streets except a few walking hurriedly down the lane with their hands deep dug into their pockets.The cafe by the road side is still open,but without any customer in it.Under the dark clumsy cloud the destitute is still begging for alms while hurried pedestrians pass by.


The untamed wind splashes drops of water onto my face,the cup of coffee in my hand by now has already started tasting salty.The book on quantum mechanics that lay on my left side is almost wet.I was reading the book half an hour ago until a sudden gust of wind blew within my hair and did its part.........Heisenberg's uncertainty principle written on page 27 is seen as a trace from the page which lay open in front of me,it read" h is uncertainty principle".On my right lay an empty cigarette packet,and on far left a shelf ,with an empty beer bottle in it.I don't know why I have kept this bottle ,is it here to commemorate my past? did I knew about my present on the day when I kept this bottle? that on some lonely day the bottle will remind me that today I am living in my past with no present and an uncertain future..........





Some yards from here is an eight storey ed mansion which has lately became my companion during these solitary days.A series of open window lies in front of me,through which I can see the interior.On one I see a newly wed wife serving her husband a hot cup of drink as her husband had just returned home.The husband accepts this with a warm smile .On another I see a middle age couple quarrelling for some reason while their toddler kid cries sitting in between them.on the next window I see an elderly couple watching television together when a sudden disturbance brought their disposition.On the next moment I see the elderly woman talking and smiling over the telephone while her husband looks on her face eagerly to catch hold the phone.
In front of me is an open window which was shut for the last six months since the day i started looking into other people's life through their windows. "I don't know for what reason the window is open today......." I thought to myself ................through the window I see a modest but a well knit room, a garlanded picture of some one, bottles of medicine and some cheap plastic toys.A beautiful woman enters the room with a man and locks the door from inside .Her attire contradicted the status which I perceived beforehand on seeing the modest decor of the room.she looked both gorgeous and divine.


The man hands over a bundle of currency to this women and they both smiled at each others faces.The lights were turned off and for the next twenty minutes there was complete darkness inside the room .The lights were on again , I saw both of them leaving.Hours after an another man arrives and the same old thing followed,but this time it was nearly half an hour before I saw the face of bulb again.The man leaves slamming the door hard.The woman sat on the bed idle,without any movement.An unexpected thunder bolt rips the sky apart but was not able to make this stone carved woman move.Minutes later she stood up from bed, went near the garlanded picture and wept.She wipes off her tear goes to the other room and unlocks the door, a sweet little kid comes out of the room and embraces the woman, she takes him in her arms and brings him near the window.For a while she wents out of my vision and returns shortly with a bottle of medicine which she tenderly puts into the toddler's mouth.....................................

By now it is raining hard and all windows closed except one- of mine.

given below is a short story which is purely fictional.







"I am the last survivor of the suryavanshi family of rajputs" said Mr.surya to his servant lying in a broken armchair with a smoking pipe in his old trembling hand which looked vintage by its appearance. The smoke which looked like an ascending snake curled up and disappeared into thin air while his servant-bholu looked upon him sitting in the mattress which lay in the ground.The house of master surya(that what bholu called him) looked shabby,there were faded paints ,fallen plasters and a porous roof.The room which resembled more a cell rather than a"living place" had in its decor a flower pot with plastic roses on it,a torn mattress which looked like a rag,a trunk and a single bed.The only odd thing among all was a neat white bed cover.Bholu had been serving his master since he was a boy of eleven and when he used to beg near the roadside temple.Master surya a somewhat pious man by nature visited this temple frequently and on seeing this innocent soul his paternal instincts came into being,it was then and now bholu had became a member of this small family.
"Remember when i die you will be sitting on a pot of gold"said master surya to bholu.Bholu had been listening to all this right from the day since he was brought here,bholu tried several times to enquire about this, but the master never said aword.Only thing that the master talked to bholu was about his family and his ancestors

"I am the last survivor of the suryavanshi family of rajput,it is our ancestor whose name you will find in history books...I can recall something...I was only a child when I left my palace..."-said master surya, a eighty year old man with long gray hair and a black moustache.By nature a soft spoken man who resembled the remnant and the falling dynasty of rajputs.Master surya's ancestors ruled places of rajasthan till the independence of India,it was only after then master surya left his palace with his father.Since then decades passed and few years back with his all money exhausted, master surya moved to this shabby house and was living by a income which came by selling the antiquity inherited by his ancestors which master surya's father managed to take out of the palace secretly.Master surya never revealed this "secret" to bholu,as he never considered it worthy,nor this was an act of virtue to him. Disclosing this shameful secret would only bring scorn and hatred from the community.











The night fell when bholu's deep sleep was broken ,bholu heard a broken voice calling for him,it was his master's.Bholu rushed towards his master.Master surya lying in his bed and exasperating held bholu's hand and said:

"my son bholu I have kept a secret away from you..you can recall I always used to say that when I die to you will be in pot of gold......"

yes replied bholu

"my son it was a plate of which I talked about and it is in the trunk ...it was with our family since very old times and not one which I have now but a set of them"

"plate" replied bholu

"yes a plate but no ordinary one, it was the plate on which the king dined ,the plate was used to protect the king from consuming poison in the form of toxicated food,when toxicated food be placed on this plate it turns green,there by indicating the presence of poison.....you sell this plate and you will get enough money to spend all your lifetime...." telling this to bholu master surya took his last breathe.

Bholu took the plate to the antiquity shop,the owner examined the plate,by pouring scorpion poison over it,to bholus surprise nothing happened.Bholu was paid a few bucks by the owner who on bholus request bought the plate "this plate is nearly 200 years old and rusty,and no such colour changing properties.......only a three thousand rupees and not a single penny more....all foolish claims" laughed away the shop owner bholu felt as he was tricked by his master.On returning home bholu saw the flower pot with plastic roses on it , there by giving an impulsive angry blow he shattered the china clay into pieces.




somewhere in western India :

"A team of bright archaeologists unearths a set of utensils unknown to the scholars by now.The material was rusted and was sent for chemical analysis.The utensil was perhaps used by the kings for his dinner purposes.It is a sort of a poison detector,and it changes its colour to green on reacting with a variety of poisons,however a thick rusting nullifies its property.............................."-The local daily reported on its headline.