ek kalam ki sookhi syaahi

bade saalon pehle ek pyaari si ladki meri zindagi mein aaee thi...i was happily playing about...going to school...when she moved in next door...One find day..just like that...

Just passed out of college, all confident, a job with a top firm, a big bungalow rented on her own salary...

Though our first encounter was quite the anti climax...a smart assy comment she made...a bet i took up...changing her wild bush of a lawn into better than my own mom's in less than three months...

And in those three months we became pals...buddies...chuddy buddies...She used to walk into our home at any time, from the morning pooja to the dinner...un announced like it was her only...and I could do stay overs at her place any day...we would stay up late to watch movies together...we saw the whole of Hannibal Lecter series in one night...

Heck we even used to go on dates together...we had so much fun...she knew the bouncers at this pub so I was the only kid of my age who managed to get an entry into a disc...

That was 8th class...she was 21...

One day she asked me what will you do when you grow up...i looked up from my computer and told her i'm gonna be an engineer...build autos...better than dad does...

She smiled...no i think she laughed...she ruffled her hand through my hair...and said...i think you'll make a fine gardner...

that was 10th class...

One day she introduced me to this guy, and by the look in his eyes I knew she had found her man. They were still dating when I left for college to Pune.

She used to write to me every week, i preferred letters to phone, i've never liked phones. She married him, I finally met her family. She was looking regal that day.

I was working in Pune those days

Then one day the good news, she was pregnant. I knew that was what she had wanted the most in her life. I had been her kid for many years and now I was glad she was getting to do, getting to be what she had always wanted to be...a mom.

And then the call, there's always this call that you get once in your life that turn your world upside down. She told me, somehow you know I expected that call, I had been expecting that call since the day I first saw her in my house, standing in that blue salwaar kameez with small white floral print in her cute little white sandals...I knew that day that she would go away, that she didn't belong to this earth...

I took the next flight out back to Delhi. For the next month he and I took care of her. She delivered a fine little baby on 3rd March. Funnily she handed her over to me, that little bundle of joy. On the night of 3rd she went back to where she had come from.

He, me and the little her took off to his farmhouse near Chandigarh. He never remarried, I never married...when you've been touched by perfection, you don't somehow require anything more...ever. Our little bundle of joy is now a fin little lass of 5, as peppy and mischevious as her mom.

I'm still a software engineer but only by hobby...three landscape artist awards later, one wonders, why was god so kind on us to pay a visit in person

One rode past the cuckoo's nest

[Knocking on the door]

'The store's closed'

'Yes I know but I'm not here to really buy anything. I was just hoping to share a cup of coffee. Look I even brought the coffee '

She smiled through the closed door at the semi-stranger holding up the thermas cheerfully. It was hard to say no to a persistant guy, much less one who brought you coffee at the end of the day.

She let the stranger...well now that he has been introduced...Sahil, in. They had bumped into each other in the Metro, only figuratively though :P. She was happily sitting there on her seat next to the door and he was stuck somewhere in the middle of the coach. But from there he had noticed her, guys have a very sharp radar when it comes to such things. He wasn't very sure what about her caught his eye her straight falling hair like a black waterfall, or her eyes like a cat's full of energy and dreams, gleaming like green emerald, or her co-ordinated sense of dress.

Now if you know a girl or some common friend introduces you it becomes easy to well make an entrance. But how do you do it if you're in the middle of a metro coach in India, where lechorous men with corny lines have made it almost impossible for a normal sane guy to make his case, heightened risk being that given the skewed sex ratio its also almost certain that the girl you like is going to be...well not available. But anyways thats the second question the first was about making an intro. The step which even the handsomest, richest and smartest men can get wrong. But our protagonist (i desist from calling him hero for a certain reason) saw his opening and he blessed his luck for having roomie who was into fashion journalism.

And with his opening line repeating in his mind our novelist ( or aspiring to be one, really works as a journo with one of the dailies, does the crime beat, hates every bit of it) nudged his way to our dear lady (sweet girl, really hard working, but more about her later, right now the situation is quite tense, our chap is barely managing to break out into sweat).

Now when your are nudging your way across a crowded coach, you do cause some bit of a commotion, even if you try to be as soft as possible about it and a tiger making its way towards its prey (hey that rhymes) through high grass doesn't want to startle the prey. Luckily though our girl was on her ipod and busily sms-ing away (her boyfriend? perhaps, who knows, always presume its to her brother who she loves dearly) to notice all the commotion Mr. Sahil was causing.

So there he was standing in front of her ready with his now reheased over a hundred times the grand opening line. The problem though was how to get the lady's attention who was still on the ipod and sms (somethings can be a double edged sword). Well as god got to do his bit he did by letting a major station come, where more people got off than on. And the ensuing commotion made our lady to take of her earphones and look up. And just as the train started again and before missy could get back to her busy-ness the following things happened.

Sahil: 'A very nice adaptation from Valentino's fall line that they showed last month at Milan'

Now as dilli ki kudeeyaan are known, the reaction wasn't exactly as romantically inclined as our chap would like it.

Girl: 'and you're who' in a tone which meant bug off before the point of my shoe find how sensitive your balls are.

However, as stumped our chap was, he knew this was one of the few times he had seen someone pretty and had an opening line too. So willing to take the risk of his two most dear assets.

Sahil: 'Someone who knows what Valentino showed last month, someone who knows its a rather nice, infact nicer inspiration from the original, and someone who just can't help admit that its looking awfully nice on you'

The greatest of mountains move and even if outside this novel the scene next would've been the crying holding his crotch and making his way back in pain in this story the following happened.

Girl: Giggling, increasing in volume slowly till she reached the uncontrolable laughter stage 'ha ha ha ha'. Sahil managing a smile hoping the laughter was positive, that he was the undisputed conquerer of the first step in this bout.

'Ok i must admit it, that was a decently good opening hello, come have a seat'

Heaving a hidden sigh of relief our dear chap takes the seat next to her (readers note again god's hand here, morning rush hour seat in Metro, never seen).

Girl: 'This designer at the shop I work, Elvira's in CP, made this for me. How come you know this is from Valentino's, you're a designer or something?

Sahil: 'Ermm...no i'm a journo...my roomie is a fashion journo, so well. I'm Sahil by the way'

Girl: 'I'm Sarika, and looks like my station is coming up'

Sahil: (cursing the speed of the train before a realization dawned on him) Our station. I also get down here.

This is where the girl smiles back, understanding the guy's persistence but comes up with a disappointing line.

As they get off the train

Sarika: 'Am meeting my friends here, we share an auto to the shop'

Sahil: 'Oh ok, so do we meet again, for a coffee or something?'

Sarika: 'Hmmm, maybe lets see, I guess the conversation that started really didn't get a chance to take off and I would be real interested to see where it goes, but then again, going out with a stranger in Delhi, that would be real mad' And with a giggle she waved him bye as she turned right to meet up with her friends

And here we are, inside Elvira's a designer store, with our dear lady Sarika having saved our protagonist from a very embarassing ending to the second step by actually letting him in the shop (maybe she's a little mad, or too adventorous). Though you know with guys they can mess up even the best of situations and in the process making an ass of themselves, like spilling coffee on a very expensive dress...

Stranger in the city

"They put more ice than liquor in the LIT here, you would rather do well ordering the muggers' pitcher...very potent"

And that is how the conversation between the man in the green chequered shirt and the one in the Chelsea jersey started. Had one been there for hours or days one could have seen the Chelsea guy almost permanently fixated to this place for hours and days in the bar cum pool joint, so one guesses he knew about the drinks when he set out to make his recommendations. LIT btw is referring to the drink known in its long form as Long Island Iced Tea, though probably the only liquer the drink lacks is tea.

Why the Chelsea guy had made that comment to this chequered shirt man is quite unknown since of all the time that he had been here other than playing pool he had always kept to himself sitting at the barstool just observing the crowd.

It could have been that he want to pry the chap into ordering a pitcher, for having ordered it the chequered shirt guy realized that...well one pitcher of that stuff really wasnt doable by a singleton.

And so the two of them got down to demolishing it, together. And when they did, like most times when one finds himself in a train journey or a bar with a stranger one ends up sharing the most deeply personal things of one's life before coming to such trivial stuff such as exchanging names. so spoke the chequered shirt guy, of his girlfriend having ditched him, his dog having gotten run over and a bad appraisal all in one week. And though he had liked his girlfriend a lot and didn't care much for the dumb job he was in, he really missed his dog.

The dog had been his companion since college days, having found him lost in a park as a small pup with an injured leg, a fine little specimen of an alsatian, he had taken the shivering little thing to a vet and then to his hostel room and while the hostel didn't really allow dogs in the premises, most wardens would find themselves unable to resist a soft spot for a little whimpering pup. And that had been the saga of the two of them. The pup grew and the guy graduated and the two of them together adapted to a new city, the pup to his new colony and the guy to his job as a software coder.

At the half pitcher level the chequered guy talked about how he really didn't like his software job, how he had lofty goals of doing something meaningful when in college and now he really didn't know what he was doing other than being a small part of a huge system repairing one small piece of a gigantic machine.

Some of his best friends had also been ripped apart...having taken up jobs in different cities and here it was time to reband, though in a strange city all he had with him were his colleagues who seemed to suffer from the same gigantic machine syndrome, with weekends spent mostly catching up sleep or some other laundering of pay in silly things which after a while got boring.

Life would have become hell had he not met Sarita (finally some names). By a rare chance in a crowded country the two of them found themselves together and alone in a slowish lift for about five floors wherein she pointed out to him that his shoe laces were open, in response to which he managed to prove that girls can make a guy go very clumsy by dropping his files upon trying to lace them back, which evoked a light cackle from her and made her bend down to help him and then the exchanged names and rest is history. But alas the gigantic machine could not see its nuts and bolts getting together so they posted Sarita onsite for two years. It was a great move for her career but for a relationship only into its eighth month it was a death knell, they both knew it but played along till one day when she called and told him that she had started seeing someone else there.

After all of his sob story was over, he looked at the Chelsea guy probably expecting some comforting words to come out, but what happened was totally different after looking at him straight for like a whole minute that guy just burst out laughing...a laugh loud and resounding, for a moment it left him flustered and then he couldn't but help out laughing himself, almost as loudly as the the Chelsea guy.

And just like that the evening turned from one of mourning to one of laughter, from bitching about the boss or to some of the wierd things of his now ex, to the F1 season to the treks he had been to and on and on and on

They crashed at the chequered guy's one room flat ordered pizza...watched die hard series and conked out. Then next morning...or afternoon one should say late afternoon the Chelsea guy dragged him out of the house to another small apartment half way across town. The door opened to reveal a bunch of cronies similar to them huddled over maps, almost as if to plan a robbery, though they were into something a shade less exciting, trying to finalize on the destination of their next trek. The chequered (though he is now wearing a different shirt ) shirt guy didn't know when he started of as a stranger and when he became one of the gang. After an hour of deliberation on location, date and other such details everybody slunk out for lunch, some split up to head out elsewhere while in the remaining another deliberation as to where to head for lunch began only to be cut short by one member who was just getting of his cell to anounce that Ramesh had just set up his Nintendo Wii, not that one would begin to think how many of them there knew Ramesh, but they all knew the Wii and that quickly decided where they were to head.

Cramped up in a taxi with half of the gang...the other following in another...the chequered shirt guy smiled...wasn't it just yesterday that he felt a stranger to the city.

Burram Zohey

Burram Zohey was your ordinary killer, he took money, he asked for a pic, name and address and thats it, didn't bother you much more, infact you would prefer that you never saw him again, he didn't like to do repeat jobs. There was one thing different about him though, he planned his hits in such a way that they seemed like natural or accidental deaths and secondly he had never been arrested, infact nobody could ever recollect having known what he looked like. All that people could recollect was that he had a deep throated voice.

Zarina stepped out of her car, the valet holding the door open for her. A Prada cocktail dress that sat well on her sylvette figure. She had met Johnny Precada five days ago at the spa at the hotel they were putting up at. He was a budding entreprenuer and was all set to change the rules of the game in the telecom industry with the new tchnology that he and his team had invented. She was a risk consultant. She was taken in with his down to earth personality and he with the good insights this pretty lady had given to him as he stepped from being a lab boy to an entrepreneur. Johnny had sent her a handwritten invitation to his what you could call a launch party.

He noticed her entering into the main ball room, his eyes followed her even as he was engrossed in talks with the Secretary of defence, and other business magnates. He managed to excuse himself after ten minutes and stole his way to her. Her eyes met his, she broke away from the group she was talking with as he approached her.

"Evening, nice to see you here, you're looking fabulous."
"Hmmm, who would've known that a lab boy could look so stunning either" she said with her naughty smile.
"Care for a dance?"
"With such a gentleman, how could I refuse"

They danced to the old jazz tunes and they connected. After the third dance he suggested they take a break and she suggested that a little bit of food could do them good. They headed to the bouffet table, he held the plate, she piled on the stuff. Cheese pear canapes, roasted sweet potatoes, grilled bacon and some Fugu.

"You might want to be careful with that, it is not known to be very kind to people" He said as she put the Fugu on their plate.
"Don't worry i'm sure we can handle it, remember I only gave you the idea to put it on the menu, brings some life to the offerings" she quipped

They dug in on the food as they talked. He told her about the small town he lived in by the banks of the Mississipi river as a kid and she told him how she grew up on Alftred Hitchcock movies. She ate most of the bacon letting him greedily dig into the Fugu as they both discussed the good times they had as kids at the Disney land when they had gone there.

After dinner, they had some coffee and then she excused herself. She had to catch a flight out to London that night to meet with a client there.

"It was nice spending the evening with you, you are a charming gentleman"
"And you outdo me by leaps and bounds in that department" he complimented back.

She took a cab to the airport and took her flight to Londong. As she landed at Heathrow the lobby televisions were just breaking in news of the tragic death Johnny Precada. It seems he had asphyxiated after going heavy on the deadly Fugu dish. "It is said that this is probably one of the most treacherous of most dishes, and every year many people die not knowing how strong the poison can be. The poison paralyzes the muscles while the victim stays fully conscious, and eventually dies from asphyxiation. Mr. Precada had just launched his first entreprenuerial venture after the invention of his new wireless technology which was all set to change the way the telecom industry worked. With Mr. Precada having tragically passed away the world is already wondering what will happen to his new venture, speculations are rife thatAircom Corp will be looking at buying the firm out."

Zarina looked at the tv and smiled, Burram Zohey had delivered again.

what men want

They say that we women are one of the most intangible things, that to understand us is the impossible even for god what say about man. I really don't know about that, i think it is very easy to understand me or what i want, for what i want is one simple thing, i want Debyajeet.
Let me take you back about three months when debyajeet joined our office. Our is a entertainment production house, what that means is that all those silly serials that people see on tv, we make them. debyajeet had joined in as assistant creative director. I am an aspiring movie actress, but instead of desperately vying my luck in bollywood i first tried the easier option of getting into serials. A pretty face, a really hot body touched up wid a smooth voice and loads of attitude get you to a lot of places, serials is one of them.

Debya has no great looks or a hot body, that ways he is just ok, he is average and lanky, infact i so wish that he atleast had cute butts but no looks wise he was just about average though he has mischevious eyes, i think of his body that is about all that is really good, his eyes. But even when all the other actresses were busy crooning with the hunks, some of whom who could barely act, all i could do was gush over debya. I can't really put a finger to it but i guess in a world where everybody is a hunk and looks like hrithik roshan you start to value stuff deeper than that, that was debya for me. During the breaks While the other actors were playing the fool or hitting on us co-stars there he was sipping his coffee or puffing on his cigar and reading satyajit ray or this or that. After work he would stay back and play chess with the camera men, they would also include the other crew, people the other actors and all never hung about with. It was not like he isn't crazy like the other guys, u shud see when they play quake or nfs on their laptops, the taunts he gives, though probably one of the wittiest i've heard. Even the way he goes about the work, his energy and enthusiasm are like contagious, though sometimes he gets angry like anything but most of the times he's even patient with the dumbest of us, and its not like he's being patient but more like he understands that everybody can't see his vision in one go, he takes time and tries different ways of bringing home the detail, the point.

So that is me, a hot actress woefully infatuated wid my assistant creative producer. Now the only problem is that anybody else if they had the slightest inkling that i liked them would have gone to the temple and thanked their stars, but debya is like cold, as in he's really not interested in me. And its not like he's gay or anything, in our industry you get to know who is what, he had a girlfriend earlier, Rashi, a junior producer or something, she went abroad for studying movie making further never to return. And just in case you are thinking so here is a pretty girl after an intellectual guy and he doesn't like her so she must be really dumb. But the whole thing is i'm not, i was a topper at school, am well read, know a lot about world affairs and yet for the past three months all i have been getting is the cold shoulder and i am at my wits end to understand why, why o why? what is it that he wants.

About a month back it struck me, to u know try and find out the real person, see what life he lives and everything and i have become almost an amateur detective by now. He lives with a flatmate in friends colony, drives a black corsa sail, never goes to a temple or any religious place, every saturday he hits the bar in taj mansingh and flirts royally there with the waitresses, but i guess it all in good fun, seems the people there are his friends and all, cause he never got slapped by any waitress there even with but pinching and all and neither did he bring any home, ever. He buys books from crossword and also rents a few out from a library close by.

Heck i even managed to sneak into his place once when he wasn't there when the maid came pretending to be there to meet him. He maintains a mixture of tidiness and clumsiness. the room is clean and so is the table but the bed is like one big clutterhouse. He has a poster of an Aston Martin hung over his bead and one of bob dylan on the side wall. He reads a whole gamut of books including porn, some pretty kinky also, heck he even likes archaeology.

On one sunday he went to a home for the destitute kids, looked like he was sponsoring a kid, he did talk to him but i think he looked awkward, he hugged him and all, gave him gifts he had brought but never got really pally with him and the kid looked so like i want a friend, somebody who i can love and be family with; but i guess debya was the typical guy in his mid twenties not sure what to do with a kid.

But when he's so normal then what is it that he wants, why can't he accept me, what is so wrong with me.

Oh damn the lights have gone now, this happens so often in delhi i tell u its frustrating. Rat a tat tat, looks like somebody found this the perfect time to pay a visit.

"Wait am coming, hold on to your horses for a sec will please"

I manage to light a candle and get to the door, its debya, i'm not sure whether he's seeing a shocked faced, or a pleasantly surprised face or what, all i know is that i don't know what to say or do now.

He brings up a small bunch of roses, i grab them and also my senses "Hey, hi this is surprising, come in come in...the bloody electricity also had to go now"

He comes in in the dark "be careful follow my candlelight" ," here come have a seat" He ploughs down on the sofa "sorry for dropping in without a call, was passing by thought would pay a visit"

For three months i have been wanting him to pay a visit and this is how he comes, when there's no light, i haven't even waxed, damn don't even know if there is anything in the fridge to offer him. He cuts short my thoughts

"So what did you find out?"

"Find out, find out what?" for a moment i can't even connect to the question and then i realise what he's saying

"About me, for the past one month you have been following me more strongly than my shadow, what did you find out?"

"That you are like any other guy, same habits, same everything, Oh debya the whole unit knows i have a thing for you, even you can't be oblivious to that, then what is it that you don't like in me, am i not beautiful, am i not good to have a conversation with, what is it in me that you don't like?"

Even in the dark with just the glow of candlelight i could make out his face change expressions, it became even more serene than before. "I have always had this dream about setting up a school, finally after 5 years of saving and planning i have bought land in himachal, a nice little place in the hills. I will be quitting the job, Raunak will be taking over from next month; i move lock stock and barrel to Himachal by month end."

"Rashi couldn't understand why i would want to leave all of this to go there to set up a school, but thats just me, thats what i always wanted to do."

"You are beautiful and on top of that smart and intelligent, you have a promising career ahead, not as a tv star but in bollywood, the chopra banner is already showing a lot of interest in you, so now you know why i couldn't warm up to you, i couldn't deal with..."

That is as far as he got with his sentence for the sound of my slap on his cheeks resonated through the house..... and then i kissed him, "next time it would be less painful if u just asked you dumbo"...and then i got back to kissing him...and he drew me closer to him, tight in his grasp like i had always dreamt he would...

Yateem

Yateem was a special kid, ever since he had come to work in the same restaurant as him, the elderly Rakesh had taken a liking to the young fella. He had appeared one day out of nowhere, hungry, in tattered condition. He had just stood there outside gaping at the people chewing on there food, talking, enjoying, bitching everything, totally oblivious to his existence. Rahman bhai the aged propreitor of Rahman Eatery had from his high seat on the cash counter seen the young lad, an eyesore standing in front of his restaurant, but it must have been his lucky day that the old gentleman saw more than just a hungry boy, he also saw the fire in his belly reflected in his eye, a pride which did not let his hands rise to beg, he just stood there gaping at the food as if trying to fill his hunger from there itself.
Rahman beckoned Rakesh the supervisor and told him to see if he could find some work for the lad in the kitchen.
"Do you want food" he asked the boy
Surprisingly the kid moved his head for a no.
Rakesh understood "it's ok, you can work for it, take this knife and start chopping the onions" Ankit you show him how.
Ankit an older lad of 16 took him through the backdoor, got him washed up, gave him an apron and showed him how to cut onions into thin slices for the salad and fine choppings for the cooking."Like this, thin and be careful don't cut your, blood comes out, it hurts like hell and you'll probably get scared at its sight."
From the moment he got down to slicing his first onion he seemed a natural at it. The young lad got down to what he was told to and chopped and chopped, it seemed that the hunger in him instead of sapping him of energy gave him the kick to cut more and more. After finishing off a whole batch of onions Amit a younger lad of 8 handed him a plateful of rice and curry, the lad looked at Amit and then at Rakesh who with a waved his hand "yes yes have it, and be fast, there's more work to be done"
After a whole lot of peeling and chopping the day finally ended. When all the utensils had been washed and the windings up done they all sat down for a cup of tea; "So young lad where are you from?" Rakesh asked
The young kid didn't say anything but looked down nervously. "Tell me your name, which jhuggi u come from, what does your father do?"
"I, I, I have no father..."
"Arrey yeh to yateem hai" cried out Ankit
Rakesh realised there was something that troubled this kid, he had seen many cases before, he didn't want to push the kid any further. "Fine then you can stay with us" Meenu the little girl who used to wash the plates hugged him "yateem bhaiya" , not knowing in her innocence what she had said and with that the christening of the young lad took place.
That had been an year ago since then Yateem had grown, adapting well to his environs. The mornings began with all the kids running to the nearby municipal garden to bathe under the hose while the gardner was away tending to other parts of the garden, having a quick breakfast of poha or something with tea and then starting all the preparations, laying out tables, preparing curries and all, chopping veggies, chicken, mutton. If he had been good at chopping veggies there was nobody better than him when it came to cutting meat. He sliced the meat into chops at the right places and angles even Rahman kaka was impressed by his skill.
But it was not just this that endeared him to the others at the eatery. He was a lively fellow, no game of teen patti was complete without all witty comments on the cards and luck. He could drink two whole bottles of their local brew and yet throw darts with deadly accuracy. He was also kind infact the only thing that pissed of Rahman kaka was that he did not turn away any beggar coming for food, infact it really got him heated up and almost got Yateem a whacking but for the intervention of Rakesh, whose counsel Rahman heeded, who explained to him that on Yateem's instructions meenu would salvage leftovers from the plates before washing and it is this food that Yateem distributed. This not only shocked Rahman but also pleasantly surprised him.
This was Yateem an year into their lives, they didn't know where he came from and he didn't offer any explanations all they knew was that he was an honest, hardworking chap, with wit on his tongue and kindness in his heart. Rakesh really didn't know why but his eyes got moist thinking of this one year that had gone. Yateem was like a son he wished he had. He dried his moist eyes and started reading the newspaper and sipping the chai. Newspaper to him was as entertaining as the movies, you could find enough thrillers, melodramas in the stories, there was also talk abtout sex and astrology and all that at much cheaper price than that of a movie ticket. There was something about two young co-stars of a serial who had finally declared they were a couple long after all the world had said that they were a couple. Then there was this murder case in Delhi, the police it seems had while trying to solve another case stumbled across the remains of another chap. He had been chopped up into nice little pieces, stuffed into a gunny bag and burried in the jungle. The police had traced him to a jhuggi in delhi from the plastic covered ration card. He was a well to do butcher and used to lend out money to the other jhuggi dwellers. He used to stay alone with his young son of 10 years. It seems he had been sexually exploiting a woman who couldn't return the money she borrowed. Finally it seems she had comitted suicide. Two days later the butcher had gone missing, his son had come home that day but then he had gone missing too. That is where the trail got cold, the butcher's remains had been found but the son could not be traced. Suddenly it seemed for Rakesh that the air had gone cold and his breathing shallow. He folded his newspaper finished his last sip of tea and called out "Get moving you lazy buggers, we haven't got all day, look at the tablecloth why is it not aligned right, who washed these glasses the sewer looks cleaner than them" and as another day at Rahman Eatery had begun.

living with a loser

for all my life it seems that the only constant friend that god
bestowed on me had to be one who is a dumbass loser. I have shifted
stations (dad was in the army), changed schools, changed circle of
friends but he, he was my best friend, he would always tag along.
Now the thing about losers, you know people mis construe losers, the
ones who life hasn't really given anything, it is not fair to call
them losers, no that is the category of unfortunates, losers on the
other hand are those who have lost a full hand in poker just because
they didn't know how to call their hand, now those my dear friends
are losers.
So yes i was telling you about this buddy of mine. Now this chap, was
well not a very healthy kid, thin stickly but with loads of attitude.
I guess being thin and stickly makes you that way, You start feeling
afraid of everyone around, you feel you can't stick it up to others,
and then somewhere you forget that hey nobody is attacking you, its
just the fear of the possibility that makes you a sworn enemy of the
world. So you fight with what the world has given you, you shield
yourself with your brains and fast tongue.
Yet your shield is not strong enough, for at home their is a mother
who loves you, a pop who talks to you about life and logic, and you
have buddies who don't seem to care about your brains or your sharp
tongue.
But my dears, fear is one enemy who doesn't relent, he scares you
when you are on the stage, he scares you when you are off it. It
jolts you out of your comfort zone, when you are facing the cricket
ball you are afraid, you are afraid because the ball can hit you in
the face, you are afraid because you can't play well, it counts not
that your brains are well and strong, it counts that you can't sing.
And those worries make life less joyful for you, for what is a man
who is always afraid but a prisoner in his own prison.
To the world you seem smart and brainy, sometimes even witty, but you
guard from them your deepest fears and so they also see you as
reserved, awkward and snobbish.
And thus was my buddy, he wasn't very great looking but not very
unholy either, lanky built, smart but awkward and uncomfortable with
himself.
If one could put in the greatest tests that a man has to face in his
life, one would be to prove himself professionally, another to prove
himself socially, third to be a good father, fourth to find his own
self, but probably the most important of them all to find a woman for
himself, for in that one test all other five tests get incorporated.
But how can you win when you believe it to be morally impossible,
when you yourself believe to be a loser, the spirit dies and so does
the fight. You muse on life, people around you, you ponder on all the
rights and wrongs, but you find not a way to go forward for the hand
holding you back is your own.
And thus as you test your own heart and mind, what can you find but
loss, for the battle was lost years back, you just never admitted
defeat. So you cloak your defeat and keep waging the war, hoping
against hope to desperately win.
But my dear chap how long can you face away from the truth, one day
the wounds get deep enough and you feel tired, one day you lay down
your sword and say i give up.
And so one day this buddy of mine poured out his deepest secrets to
me.
'I give up old pal, it was never meant to be, i have the brains but
will never top, i am smart but will never be cool, yes i am witty and
fun but deep and intense too, yes i am desperate for a girl, i feel
lonely too, but i have nothing to offer just a heart like everyone
else...just like everyone else.'
...he smiles now more often...i think he's finally learning to lose
his fear...i think something worked like magic for him...think it was
these words...'but i have nothing to offer just a heart like everyone
else...just like everyone else.'