THE LAST TRAIN.

The last train reluctantly left the platform.

A sparse number of the nocturnals were occupying the seats. The night scenario was entirely different. The people were lounging with their feet up on the opposite seats. Their was an eerie silence in the compartment. It looked as if the train had purged all its occupants. There was a spright in the pace of the light train.

The day time sloth pace with the packed up sardines in a tin can seemed like a faded memory.

A group of small frail, clean shaven bow tie clad boys were frolicking in the compartment. They were the attendants at a recently concluded wedding reception. They looked happy and satiated. They had a full meal today. Besides, they were carrying tiffins for their starving family, back home eagerly waiting for their supper meal. The hosts had liberally tipped them in a tipsy state. They eagerly awaited the next wedding in town. The early morning school beckoned them but they were least interested.

I saw another couple of aged waiters who somehow seemed upset. They were working in a sleazy seedy bar which used to generate a lot of income for them. The new government had clamped down this business. The bar hardly drew any customers. Their once beaming smiley faces looked distraught. They were looking for an alternative. An escape route.

I saw a bespectacled gentleman scribbling on some papers using his dirt laden briefcase for support. He was a clerk who worked shifts to make his ends meet. The bulk of work would mean unfinished targets. He was as busy as a student preparing for his exams. The pen which he used to scratch his ears, would be licked by him in case it didn't write. The work would be carried home, a decrepit old chawl where the pack of copulating dogs would hound him throughout the night.

A few tired inebriated workers returning from the 2nd shift looked uninteresting as they were fast asleep in the train. The cool breeze near the window seats was their only air conditioned comfort in life. Their clothes too bore marks of grime and sweat. They would wash them in the night and reuse them all over again tomorrow. A sleeping solitary beggar was too tired to ask for small change. He had to conserve energy for tomorrow.

She sat in the corner wearing a black skirt, dazzling all of us with her cheap jewellery and dark exposed legs. She was spic and span at this odd hour of the night. Maybe, she wanted to work all the night. Her outlandish lipstick and kohl lined eyes with the rouged cheeks would never fail to elicit customers. She hid her pock scarred face from the crowd gazing at the never ending tracks. Her life too, was just passing by.

They were such class of people who lived for today. They would never know about their charted course in life and an unplanned future.

The last train carried them nowhere.

THE ANGRY OLD MAN.

The beatings used to intensify at the night times.You could hear the ear piercing shrieks of the old lady. She had endured this beast of a man for a decade, but now her osteoporotic bones and the lean muscles were giving way. She used to hide the marks with the folds of her 9 yard sari but now did not care about them. She could not understand the gradual change in his behavioral pattern.

Her children had left her at the mercy of the dreaded husband. They had no other option also. Their new brides would never put up with such atrocities. They would have been petrified at the sight of such violence. Their mother let them go hesitatingly. It was her fate. She would face it all alone.

It was the early 70s, There were a few doctors in the entire town but no one could understand the reason behind the anger of this brutal person. He would be irritated all the time and on the slightest pretext would go berserk. After the beatings, he would bang his head against the wall. His forehead was angry red. Through out the day, he would be as meek as a lamb, sleeping like an innocent baby. He hardly used to interact with his family leave aside the rest of the world. The Sunset used to trigger his inexplicable outbursts.

He was branded as a psychotic. The doctors left him alone at the mercy of the almighty.

His wife died pretty soon. It was a natural death.

The angry man was left to fend for himself which drove him further to self destruction.

He died on the road after a minor vehicular accident.

As per as the existing protocols, his death being unnatural hence was subjected to an autopsy.

They found a big apple sized tumour occupying nearly a half of his brain. It had eroded his brain completely. The cancerous tissue had driven him to sociopathic behavior.

It was a slow growing tumour.

Everybody misunderstood the angry old man.

His children cried for him at the funeral for the very first time in their lives.

LET THEM PLAY.

Last year was a very busy and a tense year for my daughter Chaitra.
She would wake up at 7 am and sleepily accompany me to the Tennis Court to play. At 8 am Mansi would pick her up and after a shower and breakfast would take her to the Grammar Class for an hour or so. At the stroke of 10 am, The stern tuition teacher would arrive and would spend a lengthy hour with her. At 12 noon, a yellow coloured bus would pick her up to School.
The weight and volume of her school bag always amazed me. So much of knowledge stuffed in one rucksack! My daughter's drooping shoulders were of concern to me.
After a tiring day at school, She would be off to her Abacus classes in the evening to learn Maths.
At night time, she would be bone tired and go off to sleep.
Of course, the Karate, Vocabulary and the Dance classes would be squeezed during the week ends.
The play park in my campus looked so desolate.
The empty slides and see saws would often bleed my heart.
I put my foot down. I could not bear my daughter's rigorous daily schedule.
We parents had no right in connivance with the teaching fraternity to rob the fun filled carefree lives of our children.
I made a decision which would give my daughter her childhood back.
I took her off every available class much to the displeasure of my wife.
She would just go to school.
She would become what she was destined to.
She woke up at her own sweet time when her dreams would cease.
She played in the play park, giggling with the swings and the slides.
I could see the smile on her face again.
I let her decide her future. She had to still grow up.
Let the children play !

GOOD MORNINGS.

Prithvy, my son wakes me up daily morning with his pleasant hugs and wet licky kisses and sometimes,razor sharp tooth bites. He makes monosyllabic sounds which sound like music to my ears. He is an early riser but lazes around in the bed with me till 8am as Mansi goes to the gym at 7am.
Chaitra has become big and sleeps in her own room. She is becoming independent now.
As soon as Mansi comes, I rush to dress up for my tennis sessions. During this period, Prithvy watches me with a keen eye but quietly.When I wear my cap, Prithvy goes berserk. he quits his feeds and just starts bawling and shrieking. He wants to come with me.He crawls up to me and pleads with his eyes to take him along. I give in and take him in my arms.
He becomes pacified and starts smiling waving his arms in joy. He plants an extra kiss on my ever ready cheeks. He fidgets with my cap as I take him down the elevator. He bangs his small arms against the steel doors of the elevator as he is not able to contain his joy.
We have a small play park in our campus, I promptly sit on the swing, taking him in my lap and swing slowly. All the time, he watches me smiling and in amazement. His day is made. I also make him sit on the mini slide and see him scared, not letting go of the side railings. We literally slide him manually on the slide. After some time, his care taker maid comes down with the pram and takes over from me.
I wave him good bye.
He does not cry this time.
He is satiated now.
I can see a twinkle in his eyes.
Maybe, he knows, that daddy may come home at unpredictable times when he is sleeping.
He has started getting acclimatized to his daddy's work schedule.
The morning is his rightful share of time.
This morning bonding will be the platform of a symbiotic father son relationship in the years to come.
So,when my tennis coach asks me the reason for my late arrival to the court, I smile and don't say a word.
I adjust my fidgeted cap and play along.

SORE BOTTOMS.

The serpentine queue was stretching outside the gates of the theatre. The people were jostling to get a foot hold in the ticket line. There was a separate line for the ladies who had swarmed upon the theatre with their kids in tow. Their lips were glossy with outrageous shades of lipstick. A scuffle soon broke out in the front as soon as the houseful board was put at the window. The crowd was livid but left grumbling to try their luck another day. Some had come to see the movie for the second time while most of them had lost count. This was the block buster of the century and people did not mind seeing this spectacle over and over again. The hanky tied black marketeers would rub their itchy fingers in glee. Their pockets would swell then.
It was the late 70s and movies ruled the roost then. The television and the computers were yet to enter our uncomplicated lives.
The theatre was a decrepit one, paan stains dominated the lobby outside. The seats were of hard leather which used to hurt our small bums. Springs used to jut out of the seats and Bugs used to lurk in every crevice,waiting to suck our blood. There were a couple of fans in the balcony which used to blow sweat filled winds at us. We were lucky to get fan seats. The poor viewers in the stall would sweat it out often using vernacular newspapers to fan them. The balcony crowd used to throw the litter at the stall crowds, fights would ensue then. The ones with the choicest abuses won. The fight would sometimes spill outside the theatre too.
The foyer outside the screen used to attract our attention more than the movie. Soggy wafers and Crisp wadas-samosas used to be displayed in a dirty glass shelf illuminated under a powerful halogen yellow lamp. There were no micro waves back then. A small box of ice cream candies elicited the maximum rush. The parents would buy for their nagging children and the lover would buy a solitary candy which would be licked by him and his female friend in the dark confines. Some people would smoke in the corridors, blowing rings in the stale humid air.
I could not understand the mystery of the corner seats. The couples would be so cooing busy in themselves and would hardly watch the movie. I would stare them at frequent intervals, much to my parents' disapproval.
But as soon as the hit song would start playing, We would stand on our seats, remove our shirts and dance with joy. Our appreciative parents would clap then. Few would dance in the aisles spraying 25 paise coins in the air which would jingle on the hard non carpet laid hard cement floor. It was real fun then. Catcalls and Whistles would accompany every hit song.
The tickets were priced at 1.1 Rupees for the stall and 2.2 Rupees for the elite balcony. It was a princely sum those days. A 5 rupee note would suffice for a small family. As soon as the movie would end, people would walk out slowly to their homes. Some would yawn. The elite would hail a rickshaw and their fat family would barely fit in the small vehicle. The sputtering rickshaw reluctantly, took them home.
We would go home and scratch our itchy bottoms. A soothing lotion would be applied to treat the bug bites.
As soon as the next movie hit our theatre, we all would be excited and raring to go again.
The movies were our only escape from bitter middle class reality lives.

Yesterday, I went to see a movie with my family in a state of the art multiplex. The entire bill came out to nearly 2000 Rupees !!. I was shell shocked and my mind flash backed to my childhood days.
When I came home, My bottom did not itch this time.
It hurt.
No lotion could sooth it.

TERMINAL THOUGHTS.

A sense of emptiness grips the soul.
You feel lonely, despite the crowds gathered around you.
Yet, you feel a sense of loss and unbelonging.
Your stifled voice has no energy left.
Your mind is racing but the thoughts are blank.
You realise the futility of life.
Your entire life flashes before your eyes in a fast forward manner.
You wish for some more time.
Just a little more to do the undone things, to undo the done things.
How you wish, you could have spent more time with your family.
You feel the lights hurting your eyes.
You feel sympathy for your now exhausted care takers.
You silently curse the doctors for prolonging your agony, artificially.
You no longer feel the pain of the needles and tubes puncturing your fragile body.
You see the winged angels coming towards you.
A flash of light. The terminal gasp for breath. The doctors try in vain, to revive you.
Your soul is liberated, You are free now.
The light soul carries nothing, except memories.
You embrace the Almighty God.
Welcome to Heaven.
Good Bye Mother Earth.