Worn ‘n’ Torn

Day 1:

The other day, I was leaving office. Back at the parking lot I looked at my Motorbike; old, worn and tired…kind of like the person who drives it. Since it is from a previous era, there is no push start buttons to your aid. Just the old school kick start.

While making my way through the traffic, I couldn’t help but think:

‘I wonder what must be on it’s mind? Will it be happy with itself in comparison with other motorbikes around? sure couldn’t be’

‘The newer bikes could run a riot around this one. They will achieve in less than 4000 rpm, what my bike won’t be able to at redline. What still keeps this motorbike running other than the fuel I pour in?’

I must admit it looks decent,the body is still in good shape especially the paint. It looks classic with it’s old school naked bike styling. I haven’t done much to ruin its look.

‘But how long just with your looks? Not fast, not really efficient, just an average motorbike.’

Would the motorbike feel itself useless, if it had a soul… I wondered. Times have changed so have many things.

‘No one cares for how much of a head-turner you were once upon a time. That time is clearly over. It feels today though that you have no real value apart from a few people looking at you once in a while. You are being over-taken left right and center by bigger, better and more desirable motorbikes.’

‘Knowing all this how do you put yourself on the road every single day. Just literally to be mocked and over-taken by well-equipped , better sounding and better looking motorbikes. How do you manage son? Isn’t it an inch by inch death?’

Day 2:

It rained heavily in the past 3 hours and there is no signs of rains stopping for another couple of hours. I was moving alongside the slow traffic. The water was ankle deep and didn’t concern me at this point.

Moving further, water level rose and soon it reached knee level. This concerned me a little but I chose not to stop. The engine is still clear of water, so is the exhaust.

In just a matter of minutes, the water level rose from knee level to hip level. Cars stopped, other motorcycles stopped by the side. I could see those motorcycles almost submerged in the water. My logic was to open the throttle and not let water in the exhaust, since the exhaust was below water level. Stupid logic, but at that time it occurred to me as a bright idea. Did the motorbike stop? Yes at the last stretch of water logged street it did. Did it start again? Yes. It limped with me on our way back home.

Day 3:

The motorbike was still alive. It worked as if if nothing happened yesterday. It kept running and it still does.


 

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Journey home…

The constant cruise, neither too slow to make anyone whine nor too fast to miss out the little details of outside through the door. A gentle breath of wind, neither too strong to put you in discomfort nor too soft to go unnoticed. The melodramatic nature, greeting me with sun not too harsh or droplets of rain depending on when I am traveling.  Irrespective of my travel dates, the view outside is always green and smells pleasant scent , reminding me this is how Kerala smells.

The last leg of train journey to my little town has been my personal favorite for more than past twenty years. A flash of remembrance I long to wander through alone, more than staying in Kerala. Somethings are better unchanged.

Mystic Mysteries

 

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I like staying mysterious. Nobody could or would ever claim that they knew me and my thoughts in its entirety. I would never let that happen. I’ll only share with them what is necessary. That is how it is. My undisclosed facts are my guards. Some times I let one down but never two together, no chance. We all love to protect our self, I’m no different.

I hold quite a few secrets within me. All safely locked up deep within my heart. Exponentially deep, more than those woods. They will stay with me and disappear with me. But none shall learn about it. If you have filled my ears with your heart, you can count on me. I can be trusted for I will not be the laughing with others; talking about you behind your back. That’s not my trait. I’d like to be different from others.

In short, I’m mysterious yet trustworthy and you know it.

Nature


(Fiction)

View outside my window

Success; for the society, should be something like being well-settled, owning beautiful cars and showing off their riches…for my near ones, should be financial freedom, do whatever you want without being concerned about money…for me, being in peace. Success is similar to the view from my window.

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Some see it as a few fallen dry leaves and others waiting to fall. Some others see it as a place where snakes crawl around, others simply dismiss it as a jungle.


 

Decisions – End of the road!

(Fiction)


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I sat in my shady room of a distant guest house not knowing what next. The ceiling fan above squeaked as it rotated in slow pace.

In my younger days, I used to run faster than this ceiling fan. I thought.

It’s late night or rather early morning. I could go out but that wouldn’t cure my thoughts. The streets wouldn’t be empty. The street leading to Baga Beach is never empty. There was something else that concerned me. Those thoughts have been within me for a good number of years. Somehow I have learnt to live with it, knowing that someday or the other they will be a source of constant trouble in my life.

Later on I left my room for the more vibrant street. The street was lively. Plenty of happy, beautiful, peaceful and smiling faces to look at. The steady pace of the crowd tagged me along. I walked with the crowd, looking at the various shops, lights…. green, amber, blue.

Where the street ended, the sands started. The crowd had already dispersed on the way. I was once again alone to walk those sands. Soon I stood a few feet away from the beach. There is this thing about standing on the shore of a beach. You hear the waves and that’s it. The sound is constant. The sound is special. It directly appeals to the soul. It’s music, relaxing and you can lose yourself in thoughts for hours together.

But it is also a realization. Realization that this is the end of the road you traveled. This is all that road can take you. There is nothing more you can do, no further you can go. You have taken all the effort to reach here and this is where the effort ends. Basically it’s a realization that you cannot go beyond this. All you see is the vast water body and a horizon. All you are left with is a question,

What next?

The sooner you find an answer, the sooner you can get back and start working on the next best thing you think is worthy of your time. If you do not have an answer, you stay there thinking about the ways to best handle the situations going back. You will be lucky if at all you can find an answer because the road leads no further. There is no going forward from here in search of answers.

A beach visit; can be a pleasant memory for most, but a journey to nothing for some.


(Subject in the image and inspiration for the post: A dear friend)

Dart board and the blank stare

Standing in darkness I couldn’t help but wonder, what next?

I couldn’t confirm for a fact whether I stood in a room or a dark alley way … but the only reality then was darkness.

I waved my hands in the air as I moved around. My hands fell upon a small box which had what I felt were darts. A few of them. The box was solid, I could feel it but whether it was placed on a table or if it was supported in some other sort was beyond me. I picked up the darts and aimed at infinity. I didn’t know what else to do. I shot the first dart, it left my hands and then vanished into darkness. It was unsettling to not know what I was aiming for, where the dart-board was. So much uncertainty.

Photo courtesy: Google search, credit to respective owner

Thinking if I change directions and try again, I might find the target I picked up the next dart and threw it in the direction which I felt would find the target. Another dart lost for nothing, but the urge to find the target still remained. I picked up yet another dart and I failed to find the target again. Disappointed but somehow the whole process got me addicted to it. Who ever said failure was addictive? or the urge to try and find the target was?

I carried on firing darts in all the possible directions but to my dismay none had hit the board. Obviously I had to rely on my ears, eyes were useless in this given situation. But once the dart left my hand, it was opportunity missed as usual. Half a dozen of darts and no result.

I move forward waving my hands, not in search of light but in search of more darts…


 

A night at the beach

(The post contains use of strong words and lots of BS… Disclaimer)


Quarter past midnight and we were still lying on the shore of a fancy beach in Goa, eyes wide open but unable to move an inch. Probably nervous breakdown from all the spirit that entered our system. We were surrounded by darkness but lights from the bar, which was the only hope if sea decided to play a prank. Me and two other childhood friends, Goa, alcohol, beach…After drinking like a fish, I am more than glad to quote a few bits from the midnight musings of three drunk men.

‘We fucked up our lives, didn’t we?’  I asked.

‘Royally’ the one to my right replied

‘This is life, we have too much expectations. We are bound to fuck up’  the one to my left replied

We knew each other so well from school days, so much that we shared our thoughts, dreams, fears and sorrows with each other.

‘You guys know what, I was wondering… how the hell can we be in a position that we are today? Not knowing what next, no concrete aims in life… we are a fucking joke!’  I commented.

‘Three and a half decades wasted and still counting’ the voice from the right

‘Life is uncertain, that’s how it is. We all live in a hope’ the voice from the left

Me, ‘That’s very hopeful indeed. Remember in school we used to say….wait till college and I’ll enjoy my life. Then college happened and it sucked sweaty donkey’s balls and we were hopeful that once we land ourselves into a job, our world will change. Around a decade of working and life has never been more pathetic. Now what? Wait for after life I guess? or next life maybe?’

‘Next life, we won’t get human birth, that’s guaranteed.’ the one to my right replied

‘At least we have a job and we earn to support ourselves. Not everyone is lucky to have a job in life.’ the one to my left said.

‘The spark is missing in our lives. Hence we make it to the millions, millions who don’t know what to live for, millions who think being slave is fine. I would rather be dead and gone for ever instead of living like that. Forever in the realms of memories. Memories that fade away with time. Time that waits for no man or no machine. Men and machine who share this world to themselves. A world that favors rich. Rich that make the millions of common people look like morons. The millions who don’t know what to live for……. 

See, life is a vicious circle.’

The next morning I was woken up by a life guard who was doing rounds at the beach. I looked besides, no one to be found. I wondered if they left without me, or were they with me last night at all? I don’t know….

I picked myself up and walked back. All I needed was a spark.

Years later, I still wander in search of a spark plug…


(Fiction)