The Silhouette in the Dreams

Part-III

Meanwhile, their conversation continues...

“What? I mean, how? How is it possible? You are no God, you are just a man!” said Azad, perplexed.

“Oh! Have you not been listening to what I have been saying? I am a dream trader; I have the body of a man, and the knowledge of a God. I am not your daily trader! I trade dreams. I appear only to those whose dreams amuse me, or rather, thrill me. Then I fulfill their dream, if I deem them worthy of it. This is who I am, and I offered the same to your father, but he refused! He said he will not challenge his fate, and vowed to go on with his life. The moment he made that decision, his universe split and that propelled him to a new dimension, and then the things happened as they were meant to, leading him to his grave.”, said Drotha, still maintaining the smile on his upper lip.

Azad was totally confused now; with the talk of universe and fate, and Drotha being some kind of supernatural being. What he actually wanted to know was about his father, for he had no interest in the heroics of Drotha and his fables. He was a kid, and the only thing that makes a kid happy is the sight of his parents or in this case, the story of his dad. Everything else Drotha said was secondary to him.  The only word that resonated in his ears was, “...your father...”.

“What of my father? What does this have anything to do with him?” asked Azad in a steady tone.

“He has everything to do with this! The decision he took that night is the reason that you’re standing here today! Heck, you wouldn't even have existed today if he didn't go to the factory that night. You see kid, with every decision we take, even the minutest ones, our universe changes. Things occur differently, very differently sometimes. This is the logic behind all things, and these very small decisions reflect on our future. These small decisions shape up our life and our dreams. The reason why we are able to realize our dreams is because of this. I make that possible. I make sure that one takes the right decision at every turn, so that he/she can realize his/her dream. That is what I do and that is what I offer you today, out of my admiration for your father” said Drotha, in one go.

“I don’t understand a thing mister, I - -”, Azad was cut in between by Drotha, who now seemed to lose his calm once again.

“See kid, let me show you what I mean using an example. Do you see that stone over there?”

“Yes”, replies Azad.

“Now, there are two cases here; either you pick up the stone or you don’t. If you don’t pick up the stone then its fine, your life will go as it should. But if you pick up the stone, then your universe changes, it takes a different route. Once you have the stone, either you throw the stone, or you keep it for yourself. If you’re keeping it for yourself, then it’s again well and good, but if you decide to throw it, then your universe changes again! This time, once the stone has been thrown, either it will fall on the ground, or on someone. If it falls on the ground then it’s again well and fine, but if it falls on someone, then again your universe changes. Now, if it falls on some old guy it's fine, he will shout and maybe curse you, but if it falls on some animal, or say an angry man, then it will come for you. It may attack you, and you may die and there goes your life and along with it your dreams; which you haven’t realized yet. But as of now you stand there, and the stone stays there. Nothing happens unless you pick that stone up. Do you understand it now? Within minutes you could have been dead, if all your actions took the wrong turn. This is what I do. As I said earlier, I help you take the right decisions for you, and help you in fulfilling your dreams. Do you understand?”, said Drotha, satisfied with the explanation he gave.  

“Yeah, I think I do, but help me understanding something...” said Azad.

“Yes, go on”, said Drotha. 

“You want to help me out of the fondness that you have for my father, right? But mother says, no one shows kindness without expecting something in return. So how come you are different?” asked a puzzled Azad.

“Well, I am no different than man, I have my needs. And your mother is a wise lady I must say; this is the ultimate truth about life. Well, to the point now; firstly, I am a dream trader, so I trade dreams. Yours for someone else’s. You see, I can’t give everything that a man desires. I fulfill the dreams of few and not of most. It has to be in balance, like everything in this world, there needs to be conservation of it. So in simple words, I can’t fulfill your dreams if I fulfill the dreams of other people, it has to be you or the others, not both. So, you bring me what others desire, their dreams, and I shall take their dreams and convert it into yours. Secondly, the more I help you out, the more you lose your soul. Am I somewhat clear, boy?”, asked Drotha.

“Wait, does that mean that if I tell you what my friend dreams of, then you're going to destroy his dream in order to fulfill mine? Is that it?”, asked Azad in a low tone now.

“Well, you make it sound so cold. I will just make sure that he makes all the wrong choices, which will split his universe, and I shall use that to make sure you make the right choices. You know - conservation!”, said Drotha.

“And the talk about soul?”, asked a bewildered Azad.

“Well, soul is the most fundamental characterization of oneself. It is what you are, your definition. In short, you will lose strands of humanity from your soul, along with few other things. Now, that won’t make you weak physically, but internally, you might end up weak. But when you will have so much of success at your disposal, what is the need of a soul? You won’t need it, kid.”, said Drotha.

Azad was finally getting it, he understood the trade now, and it was simple. You give with one hand, and take with the other. This is what it was about, all this time. Now, he understood why his father had to look the other way. Although his father was poor, he was not covetous. He was not someone who held all these materialistic things close to his heart. He was a simple man, of simple needs; all he needed was a three time meal, a roof over his head and a cloth to put on. That is what differentiated him from the others.

And it was now on Azad. His father had prepared him for everything, but not this day, not this moment. His father always wanted him to be independent, and maybe that's why, he never told Azad of this day. What was he to do? There was an expanse of success at one end and the sick, poor and old life at the other end. He was at the crossroads of life. One decision, and his life could change drastically. The dreams that he had seen, and his father had seen for him were within reach now. He was so close to it, and perhaps the closest he will ever come to realizing it. But it was his decision. The words of Drotha now resonated in his ears now, “…for every decision you make, your universe splits into two…”

It was his moment, the stage was set. The thoughts were Azad’s, but they couldn't materialized on Azad's lips. Azad’s thought of train was now running faster than he can keep up with. He was thoroughly confused.

Finally, Azad spoke, “Can I tell you about my decision tomorrow?”.

“Sure, why not. I will be waiting here, but don’t be late!” said Drotha, smilingly.

And said that, Azad turned and started walking towards his home. With his head held down and fist clutched, he slowly ambled away with thoughts in his head.

The End.

The Silhouette in the Dreams

PART-II – 14 Years Later

The stage was the same, the characters somewhat different and the story still going on. Azad was now in class 9; rising up the ranks of the education table. Kamala was now a house maid and used to work in 4 houses. It has been 3 years since Harish passed away. He never was going to live much, after that terrible accident that twisted his fate and his body. Kamala was now 41 years old but looked more like a 60+ woman, life wasn’t too kind to her. Well, kindness was never something she expected from anyone, be it man or god. She knew it was always going to be every –man-for-himself and so there she is; still sweating down more than she can, so that she can provide Azad with his education and food. He was a bright student of his class, always somehow managed to keep his place in the top three. Harish would surely have been happy today, had he been still alive.
 

This particular day will stand out in Azad’s life; because this is the day his life will be changed forever; just like it changed Harish’s life; on that very day of the fireworks accident. The reason he was not angry on gods for abandoning him on that day was that he knew it would happen. He knew when and where it would happen, and he also knew he had to get injured that night, for if he didn’t, his universe would have taken a different route. There would have been a lot of possible changes in his life, if he didn’t go to the factory that night; the very first change being that he would have lived to see this day. Now, how did he know?

The Three-Legged man.       

                                                        

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

It was a pale summer evening, and Azad was returning from his school. The wind had died down, and the leaves didn't move much, nature wasn't too kind that day. Azad was walking through the forest, when he suddenly heard a rustling sound behind him. The sound that is made when someone walks silently over the fallen leaves on the ground.

“Is your name Azad, young boy?”, called out a hoarse and cracked voice.

Azad turned around and saw an old man holding a walking stick, clothed shabbily with his ears pointing out, and a perverse nose. Long nails protruded out with food stuck in between them, and a broken nail here and a torn out shoe there, creamy colored teeth and lengthy hair tied at the back to form a ponytail.

Azad starts trembling on his feet at the sight of the old man, and with a shaky voice he squealed, “Who seeks him?”

“Ah, that must mean you are Azad! Lovely to meet you, son. I am Drotha, a dream-trader. Or, also known as the three-legged man!”

Azad was now even more muddled; he kept looking at the old guy with his gleaming brown eyes as he tried to make out what this guy was saying. Finally, he spoke, “Where is your third leg? I want to see it.”

“Oh my, you are interested in my third leg more than the fact that I am a dream trader?” asked Drotha.

“Yes” said Azad firmly; slowly gaining his confidence now.

“Well son, you are looking at it. Everyone looks at it, and yet somehow cares to ignore it. Now, if you don’t see what is lying in front of you, is it my fault? Or, is it yours?” said Drotha, now showcasing a smile on his wicked face.

“Do you always talk in riddles, sir? Or do you not know how to answer straight?” said Azad, now holding the upper hand in the conversation, and beaming with confidence.

“You rat! You dare talk to me like that?! You little sarcastic, stupid fool!” says Drotha, now spitting venom from his mouth, and his feet quaking which is calmed by the walking stick. Azad studies Drotha from head to toe, and spots it. With a broad smile on his face, Azad exhilarates, “The stick! You don’t have a third leg, it’s the stick, and it acts as your third leg. That’s it!”

Drotha was still angry, but amused at the child’s observation. But his amusement was short lived, he started again at Azad, “I scold you and you ignore what I have to say? I am the dream trader! Do you know how many people would die to see me? Do you? Obviously, you don’t, you ignorant fool!”

“If they die, then what is the point of seeing you?” said Azad, half-willingly.

“Oh! You have got a sharp tongue kid; I’ll give you that. Why don’t you ask your father that? Oh, wait, you can’t because he’s dead! Do you even know why I am here? He asked me to meet you when you would be 15 years of age, but now it seems like a mistake for I can’t stand a conceited boy” and said that he turned to leave, and just then Azad shouted, “Wait! What do you know of my father? I am sorry sir, I didn’t want to sound that way, I was just being cautious. Please tell me about my father, and how do you know him?” Azad was now almost on the verge of emotional breakdown hearing his father’s name; the one person he admired more than his mother, the one who taught him to dream, and everything else in between.

“Ah, now you want to say sorry and seek answers? Where did that smart tongue of yours go? Answer me!”, said Drotha, in a wicked voice.

“I am sorry, sir Drotha. I won’t say anything anymore, please just tell me more about my father.”, said a sobbing Azad.

“Well, I am still angry at you, but out of admiration for your father and to save my time, I will answer you. But promise me you will behave yourself!” said Drotha in a commanding tone.

“Yes sir, I do.”

“Very well then, I met your father on the day of the firework accident, he was so full of life and dreams, I liked his self-belief, you know” said Drotha.

“The Accident?”, asked a bewildered Azad.

“Yeah, the one your father encountered before you were born, he had told you about that, right?” asked Drotha.

“Yes, he did. But he never mentioned you, or any like of yours, sir.”, said Azad. 

“Of course he didn’t. You know, he knew there would be an accident that night, before it even happened. But you know the funny thing, boy? I warned him about it, but he still went anyway. ” said Drotha, and smiled again.


To be continued... 

The Silhouette in the Dreams

                                                                  Part-I

His brown eyes seemed bigger now, the lush pink glaze has now died out, his tooth has started to dig its way out of his gums but his clothes still reeked of the sharp-tasting smell of sulphur and sulphates. His crib was in a sordid condition, the edge of it broken at one end, the hinges creaked, whose sound would be audible with every jolt that his mother gave him, yet he lay there with his staggering eyes fixed on the ceiling above. The room had only one window to its left side and a door, the door also creaked with every movement and all this was included in an area of 10 square meters. It was his house, if that is what houses looked like. He was just 8 months in this world and already life had given up on him. Milk was his staple food and the water was so dirty that before boiling the water, she had to cleanse it using ground-earth techniques and yet it was insalubrious.

But, what could she have possibly done? With her husband working on a meager income at a local fireworks factory and the state still deserting their demands, there was very little hope to cling on to. Her youth had already eluded her, with the fine cracks in the hands and feet pretty noticeable, the skin had started to sag down forming an ill-looking persona of her; the tattered red sari, which was knitted at multiple places only added to her ill-looking charm and she hadn’t mentioned it to her husband but she had already started seeing things bit hazily, and she was only 27.She was one among many mothers who cursed themselves for bringing their children in this wretched world, because cursing was the only thing that they could afford to spend without thinking about the consequences.

His father, Harish, was a quiet person, rather beat-down with this work of his. He had been a part of this for a long time, for Harish’s father was into the same business. A look at his eyes, and you would see the calmness that lingered around. His voice was cracked but it still held the depth of his calmness. Needless to say, he was in a much worse condition than Kamala, his wife. With only one eye remaining -or whatever remained of it- he was practically a handicap; losing his eye in a work mishap that left many workers without limbs, where he was considered lucky, lucky enough to have his vision disabled rather than limbs. That night he thanked his lucky stars for keeping him alive while others cursed theirs for keeping them alive. In his younger days, he was a child whose hopes were free like the kites in the sky, he dreamt of building a palace out of his hopes and he wanted the world to know about him, about his story and about his family but fate had other plans. Time crippled his thoughts, brought an arsenal of distresses to break his castle but they were not enough, so time did what it did best, took away the remaining time from his father’s life-clock and then hell rained over. Without a job, he and his mother were left to rot, the people they knew shut their doors on their face and what remained of him was his will to fight, his will to not succumb to the pressure and so he found a job somehow, in the same factory where his father worked and slowly and slowly, he traded his dreams for his mother and their livelihood and then the fate smiled, satisfied with the job. He didn’t want the same thing for his son, Azad. He wanted him to dream, to achieve what he dreamed and then guide the others. He wanted him to believe in himself and that there is a place beyond this horizon of sulphur dust. He wanted him to be free, free to dream without the fear of being toppled over and so he named him, Azad.

                                                                     *-*-*-*-*

“The dal tastes good today, what did you put in it Kamala?”

“Sulphur, I think, you want some more, Harish?”

“Ah, why such a harsh tongue Kamala? I know you are not happy with what I provide but do we have an option here?” said a calm and composed Harish.

“I am sorry, I was just thinking about Azad here. I don’t think he deserves such fate as ours. We must’ve sinned in our previous lifetime to get thrown in a life like this, don’t you think?” said Kamala, wiping the tears from her eyes.

“Now, don’t cry. Let us cherish what we have got. We at least have a roof over our head and manage a two-time meal, plus if we had sinned in our previous life, do you think, god would have been so kind to give us an angel in disguise? On the contrary, I think he wants to see, if we can appreciate what he has given us. I tell you kamala, Azad will fly one day, so high and so fast that even the clouds would have to look up and the wind will have to chase him. It’s in his name, Kamala.”

“You always keep on saying things like this, and even you know how shallow that sounds! We are two now and we eat so less. What do you think will happen when Azad grows up, hah?” asked Kamala with vehement.

“He will eat from my share.” said a smiling Harish.

“And if he eats from your share, then what will you eat? And if you won’t eat then how will you live and if you won’t live then who will provide for us?” said a teary-eyed Kamala and the droplets of the tears flow down her cheek and fall on the ground with the sound of each drop hitting the ground audible, such was the silence in the air.

Harish cleared his throat and tried to conceal the redness in his eyes and then in his usual self says, “Let’s be grateful for what we have today and not think of the future, for you never know what it holds for us. For, every tear that you have shed today in sadness, I promise, you will be shedding more in happiness when Azad gets older and achieves the greatness that he is entitled to. No one can take that away from him, not you, not me, not god.”

She wipes down her tears and pours herself some water and then begins to eat. With every bite off of the chapatti, she looks at her son-Azad-felling sad and determined at the same moment and they sit there completing the meal while the moon-light bursts in the room through the window and falls directly on Azad’s face, who is still looking at the ceiling, making imaginary gestures in the air using his hands and squealing in happiness sometimes, while his mother keeps looking at him and his father eats in silence, thinking, thinking about what he said and how much he actually meant.

The light goes out in an hour or so and Harish cries; the first time since his mother passed away; he forgot what the tears tasted like, so he let the drops flow and reach his lips and slowly he passes into the unconsciousness of the sleep. He remembers something, rather someone whom he had met years ago; the three-legged man......

To be continued...............

Hope & Despair

I dreamed a dream set in the backdrop of reality  

I told myself not to trust the broken symphony

There were things that were meant for me    

There were stories which could be recited only by me

The fallacies have made me the way I am now               

I wanted to feel it differently; painless and slow

You are my light bearer in this gloomy night

Under these countless stars and white moonlight

I try to gaze towards the end of the creek

But my vision is bleak and my heart is weak

I am succumbing to the fear of losing you

But, I know our paths are always meant to skew

I'll let you go today, hoping to meet you halfway

So, adieu fellow traveler, we shall meet again in time,

When the moon starts to shine and the sun starts to bow

Under that twilight; my love for you, I shall show.

-          

One for You!

One for you!

Spell out your dreams to me,

for I am credulous;

spell out your aspirations to me,

for I am here to make you believe;

spell out your heartache’s to me,

for I will point you towards the greener side;

spell out your glee to me,

for I am here to proliferate it;

or maybe just tell me why you thrive for everything,

for I may provide you with something; confidence;

for I am what you make of me,

for I am how you hone me,

I am and I will be always there for you,

You just need to stop worrying and have faith in me,

for I am your heart and I do more than just pump the blood!

And My Heart Echoed

And My Heart Echoed

My fingers were itching to let go, to let them dive into the pool of the keys on my keyboard. It’s been a long time, since I wrote apiece. There are infinite reasons for this but the main reason is that my inspiration, my muse, the one who constantly nudged me to propel myself into the realms of writing was no longer around. She had dispersed somewhere with someone. Maybe the dreams that this “someone” had shown her were more boisterous than mine. Maybe he painted her another sky or just maybe, she was tired of those elusive dreams that I had shown her. Either way, the common remainder was me.

It’s been a couple of months now ; I feel sober, not love drunk like I was before. But, I will surely miss her presence. She was a natural aphrodisiac, her presence made me ecstatic. No, not in a vulgar way but in the same way as ones lover makes him/her feel. And now, all her thoughts just disparage at me. Few might call me a glib liar but now that she is really gone, I have nothing left to hide and no one to fear.

To begin with, she never really was mine; right from the start. It was just me, my feelings and my dreams. Though there was a time, when we did have something but I never really cared to give it that much attention.
So, here I am baring myself, accepting what I should have ages ago, immaculately. The present self does feel like an old friend who was ousted, long ago. The songs have now started to tickle my senses, the lyrics drilling a hole in my hard-shelled head. I am still waiting for that day when my thoughts will be my own and not of her. I am waiting on the day.

My soul is now mine for the taking, though still a part of it wants to crawl back to her, jump over the walls that she built between us, pierce through the confusions and reach those little strands of paradise, which once, we had shared.

“You were the one I saw coming and now I’m just confused who it really was and now I’m at the crossroads wondering which way to go and I have tried to run before and now I’m not running anymore.”


NOTE – Before someone draws some conclusion, the title is not plagiarized. Loved that book, so morphed the heading. :P :P :P

Cliche!

Cliche!

I’m searching for a new meaning
beyond your visible living
In the name of love,
lot has been entrusted,
In the name of love,
lot has been done
and a lot has been wasted.

Beyond the emptiness,
beyond the silence
I hope to reach a place,
where your presence will not be felt
where your existence will not bother me
where your life will never intersect mine
where we become more than just independent.

I always thought you to be the special one
one, who swept the ground off my feet
one, who made my heart skip its multiple beats
one, who gave a new meaning to my life
one, who taught me, it’s good to have hope.

But, a lot has been done in the name of love
let’s not add another reason to everything that we’re not.