He is still the man I loved

He is a true yogi. He wakes up early every morning and does all the asanas. He reads the Bhagavad Gita and the Upanishads every other day.

During sunset, he loves reading and re-reading Ramayana…

He loves our two daughters, Trishna and Harini. He teaches them language and arithmetic in his own inimitable style.

They were days when we used to go trekking up unbeaten paths, when we used to sing aloud on solitary beaches, sleep under the sweet moon, blow flying kisses to each other… when he used to write me a love letter every birthday.

We used to get wet in the first showers when the sun was still up.

Now, there are utensils to clean, school uniforms to wash, TV serials to watch, and the occasional relatives to visit.

We talk through glances and nods. Through monosyllables when required. We don’t have too much time. There is too much of work. Those bills to pay: the house loan, maintenance, the car loan, the school fees, their shoes and books, the bloody workbooks, and extra tuitions in Marathi.

Sometimes, I sit during my afternoon breaks while the kids take a nap and think to myself, “What if?”

But, anyways, life goes on. I manage.

He is still the man I loved. I loved.

Just a short story

“So you can join work from tomorrow. You will be a trainee here till three months and you will be paid a stipend of five thousand per month. Welcome to Techpark Software!” said Leena, HR Executive.

“Thank you! This job means a lot to me. I’ll come in at 9.30 tomorrow,” replied Meera.

Selvam overheard this final part from outside the interview cabin of his office. He was as happy as a hummingbird; he could fly backwards if he wanted to.

He could stand still in mid-air. He loved Meera the minute his eyes saw her sitting impatiently in the lobby. Restlessly putting the dupatta to it place and playing with the ends of her salwar where loose threads hung!

Her hair nicely oiled back and her deep black eyes with kajal mesmerized him. Selvam had always waited for this moment in life when he can tell his friends about a beautiful woman in office. Maybe, even in his life.

Selvam was the star employee for Techpark ever since he joined them. He had created and developed lots of crucial programs and security software, which were a hit among their clients. To top it, he was great in creating sales pitches and entertaining clients and colleagues.

But he was not great when dealing with women; he had a weakness. During conversations with women, he always got a bulge in his trousers. He was always anxious that they would eye that and never talk to him after that. He always hid behind his desk or a cubicle if he was talking to a female colleague or client.

It saved his professional life. But he dreaded love. He dreaded marriage for what if the in-laws made him talk in private with the bride-to-be. So he told his parents, “no marriage, amma… till I am settled, no marriage.”

All this changed when he saw Meera waiting at the lobby. Something struck a chord in his heart. For the only time, he never felt any physical attraction towards her. She was charming. Only charming. And he was as happy as a lonely sunset with no observer.

He now bought new shirts and trousers to make sure that she noticed him. But, aaaahh, Leena from HR informed him that Meera would be in induction for a couple of days before she hits the workfloor.

He waited as two days passed by. The third day arrived. Selvam was in office at 9 am.

He had finished all his assignments yesterday. Today, he was free. He wanted to talk to Meera during breaks or at lunch.

Meera entered the lobby and smiled at people. She had this mystery behind her where Selvam could never understand why she smiled the way she did.

Selvam marched up to her and introduced himself. “Hi! Good morning, nice to see you here. So finally you joined us, eh. Remember, we had met when you had come down for the interview? I had given you coffee from the machine?”

Meera apparently recognized him. She responded, “Oh yes. I do. During my induction, the VP said that Selvam is my mentor and trainer for the first two weeks while I learn my coding.”

Selvam exclaimed, “Why not? Yours truly is here. With pleasure. I am Selvam and you are?” “Oh you are Selvam. I did not expect you to be so young. Am impressed. Well, I am Meera.”

Selvam went on with work; coaching her whenever required. She was a smart student and a fast learner. He was upset that soon she may not need his assistance anymore.

And, magically, he never got the bulge again. He was cured of this mysterious ailment.

He kept an eye on Meera. Leena was his close friend so he got Meera’s details. She was Meera Iyer. She hailed from Madurai, this was her fourth job, she was a B.E. graduate, and was 30.

She loved making friends, traveling, reading, listening to Illayaraja, and sometimes also writing poetry.

Meera was very punctual at work. She came in at 9 and left dot at 6. No extended breaks. No nonsense.

Three months had passed. Meera and Selvam had become best friends. Together, they successfully executed a project too. The gossip-mongers in office had started talking about them because Meera never talked much to others.

Selvam was on cloud nine.

On a rainy August day, Meera was absent at work. She had not even called anybody or informed anybody the reason for her absence. Maybe, it is the rains, or maybe she is unwell, thought Selvam. However, he kept visiting the lobby every 15 minutes under some pretext or another.

As he was smoking outside the lobby, he noticed three old men walk in.

The receptionist led them to the CEO’s cabin. Selvam was passing by the reception and overheard one of the guy’s mention: “Meera… it’s about her.”

He was perplexed. What did these guys have to do with her? Were they her brothers? Had she run away from home? Was she married and were these guys her husband’s friends?

After half-an-hour, three guys walked out of the CEO’s cabin. They looked relieved.

Selvam knocked on the CEO’s door. “Please come in.”

“Arun, what happened? Who were these guys? I heard them mention something about Meera. I am her best friend here and I am concerned. Is there something I can do? I hope there is no problem.”

“Selvam, nothing to worry about. They were railway officials. Actually, Meera is married.”

Selvam’s heart stopped beating. His world went blank. Silence was all he heard.

“Are you ok, Selvam?” “I am fine, Arun. Go ahead.”

“Her husband is a taxi-driver in Madurai. He apparently troubles her a lot. So she finally left the town and came to Chennai seeking a better job and better life. She had only five thousand rupees with her, which she needed for food, clothes, and transport. The rest of the money she sends back home to her aged parents and a daughter who is in school.”

“Yeah, but why did railway officials come to meet you regarding her?”

“Because she has been living in the ladies waiting room at Chennai Central railway station for the past three months. They had tried to evict her but she refused to move out. Today, finally, they took her to the railway police station and got her ID, and dropped in here to inform us about her. So that is how all this came to light.”

“Will you help me in looking out for an alternative accommodation for her? A ladies hostel or something? We’ll pay the security deposit, and maybe, a part of her rent.”

“I will help you, Arun.” He remembered Meera’s first lines to Leena. And he thought he had a big problem.

- A fictitious story based on true events.

Interplay and intercourse

Thiruvannamalai… a place that haunts me. What brought me to this magnetic place?
My fate?
My destiny?
My curiosity?
My longing?
My seeking?

Or are these ours, not just mine?

Am I open enough to accept people who are closed?
Am I wise enough not to share what I think I know with people who don’t want to know?
Am I a teacher?
If I am, am I good enough?

What is life, if not an experience?
What good is it if I walk treaded paths? If I do, how do I leave a legacy behind? What about people related to me?

Do I have the right to follow my dreams at the cost of hurting or avoiding or neglecting their needs or wants or dreams?

Can we all co-exist? This question surely must have plagued all creative geniuses at some point in life. But, we know them because they followed their dreams.
What about all those people they hurt in the process of following their own dreams?
Could they not take them along?
Or, did they not want to go along their path?
Who is being selfish? The dreamers or their relatives?

I know I don’t owe anybody anything on earth but why the feeling to please them? To care for others?

What makes me a human? My heart? My thoughts? My actions? My soul? My religion? My god?

Are concepts more important than people? If they are, then these hardcore, fundamentalist terrorists are not at all bad people? Are they?

Who rules my life? Me or seven planets and the sun and the moon? Is this the interplay and the intercourse that I do not see?

If I rule, why bother about them? If they rule, why should I live?

Can I ask what is it that I want?
What is important to me?
Will I be truly happy without an impossible dream?
What is it that makes me a man?

Why do I love and guard that child inside?
Why do I sometimes crave to be a child again?
Why do I lust for women and girls?
Why do I fantasize? Why don’t I feel the need to stop?
Why do I love making love and love loving it when most masters have renounced it? When did they feel the need? Why don’t I feel the need?

What is it that I am still looking for?
Why do I feel lost in a crowd?
Why do I feel alone in a city?
Why do I love villages?

Why is that dream of a small, self-sufficient farmhouse with a well and a windmill nearby such an elusive dream? I know I am not doing anything towards it. What is holding me back?

Why are words so important to me?
Why this urge to write?

Why is life an interplay between two extremes for me?
What is the importance of intercourse?
What is churning inside me?
What is evolution? Knowing and writing, or knowing and not writing?

Why do we search for symbols where there are none?

Am I a pendulum? Can I be a compass?

Why don’t I feel the need to proclaim: “My God is better than yours.”?

Just like that...

There is a lot you want to do; but most of all do nothing. Just sit idle by the windmill, slowly turning.

Sit by a river, and paint the world go by in the air.

Look into the black sky and think about which star came from where.

Look at the woman who's reading this and wonder where she was when I was in my school.

But, I think there are lots of "us-es" who never live the lives we want. Where really the head is held high and the heart sings without fear.

Where people never lie.
Where we don't know what is the truth. Because that is all there is.

Where love is lived.
Where a kiss is not considered to be "what are you doing in front of children?"

Where all the flowers from here have gone. Can we, one fine day, march hand-in-hand into such a place?

When I call, will you join me? Or, will you stay back?
This one life!

What do you do to want to be the person whom you want to be?