Kids are kids...?

 Well...kids are kids....

How do I begin....where...it's too late now...doesn't really matter...

It Was a few months ago...I had just moved into my new society. Pretty decent location, and a much more populated setup than my last one.

I had managed to rent a 25th floor apartment, I needed the view, a kind of a solace that it provided was much needed, since being single again after a long marriage could be pretty stressful. 

Regular society...lacked no amenity...was nothing extravagant...but pretty normal scenes played out on a daily basis...delivery guys, house helps moved around...security doing their regular rounds...and kids busy adding a warm element to all the mundaneness of life...

I generally came back home around seven. Though sometimes it got late, especially after a night out with my office chappies. 

One of the evenings, around 7ish, as I entered the lobby of my tower, my attention was drawn to a little girl by the staircase...she sat on the floor with her legs propped up and with a her chin on her knees...her doll lay next to her and her water bottle held in her hands...pretty little thing was she in her blue frock...all of 8 or 9....and I just wondered as to why was she not with rest of the kids. Well kids are kids. A young man sat next to her, talking to her gently. "Must be family.", I thought as I moved on.  

A couple of days later...and this time around 1030 at night...I got back after one of those regular weekend pubbing session with my colleagues...a bit of light headed state of mind had me pretty happy and chilled out...

As I entered the lobby, I saw that pretty little kid again, at the same spot....same dress, same doll and the same bottle...a sense of deja-vu prevailed as I approached her...

I sat down next to her, grabbing her attention as she looked at me...and I could see she had been crying. "What is it child..why are you so here...don't you want to go back home. Its late, won't your parents be worried", I asked. "They don't love me any more..they keep shouting at me, I think they hate me...", Her words surprised me. "Am sure they don't...come on..what's your floor", I asked trying to know a bit more. 

"Its on 20th floor...I cant go up alone...Mummy has told me not to use the lift alone". 

"...and your mom is right...come on...I will leave you there", I said...taking her hand. 

She stood up, morosely, as if being forced to do that. I tried to cheer her up a bit. " That a nice bottle, what do you have in there. Am sure its something other than water." I said.

"Its that orange squash...the one in the ad on kids channel...I make it myself..You want to take a sip".

" You are a smart kid...yes sure...I would love to", I smiled, seeing the excitement rise in her eyes as she felt appreciated. I took a sip, returning the bottle to her. "Have it, I don't want it". I smiled back and continued to sip till I emptied the bottle.

We entered the lift. She looked at the me, as if hesitant to be in that closed space with a stranger. " Don't worry child...We will be at your place in a jiffy...you don't have to be scared". 

" Its not that...", she said as the lift started the ascent. " How long have you been in the building...I guess you are not aware."

I looked at her quizzically, " What don't I know?" . "Last year, there was an incident in this lift. The cable was of poor quality and broke. The lift crashed  from the 20th floor. One kid died in the lift due to the impact." She looked at me, a weird look coming in her eyes. I felt a weakness in my knees as I anticipated the answer. "That kid was me..and my head was in a pool of blood when they found me...exactly at the spot where you are standing." 

I froze, confused, whether to believe the story of a little kid who might be telling the truth, or be scared of the fact that a young kid could have such a vivid imagination. As I wondered so, she spoke again, " Are you scared of me Uncle? Just because am dead, it doesn't mean am going to hurt you." The question was pretty apt actually. Even if she was a ghost, she really didn't do anything, personally, to scare me. 

The sound of the ding at the floor brought me back to my senses. As the doors slid open, she walked out, and stopped. Looking at me in anticipation, she asked, "Are you not walking me to my house?" 

I walked out, partly reluctantly, and partly out of curiosity. I had to know. So we walked, as she delicately held my hand. She said, "I so wanted to be a movie director, you know? What would you like to do with your life, if you knew you had little time left?" 

"I don't know...may be write a book...", I said.

As we reached the door of her flat, I realized that it was slightly open. She opened it and motioned me inside. As I peeped in, I could see a couple sitting at the dining table, with two empty glasses in front of them. Their faces bore a grim and deeply hurt look. "Understandable...for someone who has lost a child...", I thought to myself. As I moved in further, I saw two people on the couch, bearing a weirdly angry and brooding look. One of them was the young man I had seen with the kid a few days back.

As I approached the parents, they looked up at me, confused. "Hi, I live on the 25th floor...I don't know how to say this...but your daughter got me here."    

"Our daughter?..."

"Yeah...I know its weird, and I know she is dead...and maybe you can't see her...but she is here and she is scared. She told me to walk her to this flat. She is standing next to me.", I said pointing to her as I looked at them.

"This girl...the one next to you?" , the father asked, a wondering look coming over his face that quickly started turning to anger.

"You can see her?", I started saying. A strange sense of relief coming over me with the realization that I don't see dead people. 

"Yes..that evil thing is standing right next to you.", the mother said, her voice brimming with subdued anger. 

 " Its ok. She is just a kid. Kids have an active imagination.", I said, surprised at the vehement abhorrence in the mother's tone. 

And then the father lost his cool completely. "She is the incarnation of the devil. We regret the day she was born. We are the once who unleashed this curse on the world...and there is nothing we can do about it..."

"Now hold on...", I said, coming in between the father and the girl. "She is just a kid, you don't..."

"She is not a kid...", he cut me off, screaming. "She is evil. Two weeks ago, she poisoned and killed us with the orange squash that she makes. The glasses are still on the table and our bodies are still in the bathroom, where we died, vomiting and choking. But that  was not enough. She has murdered these two young men in the last week, getting them up here with the very same excuse that she has given you. Their bodies are turning blue in the other bathroom and bedroom. An I guess its too late for you too now..."

A cold sensation crept all over my body as I felt a heaviness fill my chest. I looked at her and found her staring back at me with anticipation, a smile building up in the corner of her lips. "Do you feel it yet?", she asked, as I felt my breath weakening and froth starting to build in my mouth. My strength drained out of me as I tried to vomit the poison out, my vision fading as I slumped heavily on the floor. I tried to reach out and grab her, giving up as I realized the futility of the effort. I finally succumbed to the feeling, dying a slow and painful death.  

Lakshadweep ...revisited

The tan has still not come off completely and the images are still fresh as new. Lakshadweep was more than a travel. It was more than a mere undertaking. Lakshadweep was a revelation, an exposure to the wonders of nature. The revelation that place like such existed and was far more fabulous than any image or film may bring them out to be. They displayed that creations of nature were too phenomenal to be imagined or even replicated by man. These isles were testimony to the fact that our country abounds in all kinds of natural wonders. All we need to do was to realise their true worth and be proud that they are a part of our great country. If only they were given their due and were developed more passionately!!

Another major revelation was obviously the populace who inhabited these islands. The people who lived a life so limited and yet were so satisfied. This was an island of contentment and completeness and this was the real hidden treasure that this island possessed. This was a land of pristine beauty and innocent interactions. People unscathed and untouched by the tribulations that mar the minds of humans who survive in a chaotic world so obsessed with materialistic gains. The minds of the masses seemingly as tranquil and calm as the sea that surrounded these islands. They were still learning the cunning ways of the world as their exposure improved courtesy the television and interaction with outsiders, but they still could not compete.

It was my good fortune to get an opportunity as such to see the various facets of these beautiful islands and its interesting inhabitants. I have heard stories of the Atlantis and Utopia and I do not know if they ever existed, but when I look back at my voyage to the Lakshadweep somewhere deep inside I would like to believe that they did. 

PURANI YAADEIN : NTS SONG AS PERFORMED ON 21 FEB 09

PURANI BAATEIN, WOH SAARI BAATEIN
JOH YAAD AATI HAIN, PASSING OUT KE BAAD
WOH NTS MEIN GUZAARE LAMHEY
WOH MEETHEEN YAADEIN, WOH KHATTEY KHAYAAL
WOH KISSE AKSAR JOH YAAD AATE HAIN
AUR KAR JAATE HAIN HAMEIN BEKARAAR.
WOH CLASSES MEIN MUSHKIL SE JAAGNA
WOH AIRNAV, ASTRO AUR MAPS AND CHARTS
WOH ACP KE FUNDE SAMAJHNA
AVIONICS KE SHOCKS JORDAAR
WOH DLTPO BOARD PE LIKHNA
WOH SOCHNA BAATEIN FUTURE KI YAAR.

BUS YAADEIN YAADEIN ..YAADEIN REH JAATI HAIN
KUCH CHOTI CHOTI BAATIEN REH JAATI HAIN
BUS YAADEIN………

WOH RAATON KO JAAGNA
WOH KARNA COMPLETE APNA MAPS AND CHARTS
WOH BRIEFING HALL MEIN BOARD BANANA
WOH CHALK GHIS KAR KARNA TIMEPASS
KADAKTI SARDI MEIN ATC JAANA
AANKHON KA MILNA AIRHOSTESS KE SAATH
WOH UNKI BEAUTY DOOR SE DEKHNA
PAHUNCHNA BRIEFING HALL, BRIEFING KE BAAD
WOH KARNA FLYING JOSH SE BHAR KAR
LAGAA KAR DIL…LAGAA KAR JAAN….

BUS YAADEIN YAADEIN ..YAADEIN REH JAATI HAIN
KUCH CHOTI CHOTI BAATIEN REH JAATI HAIN
BUS YAADEIN………

WOH KARNA PLANNING DIN DHALNE PAR
WOH SOCHNA LAMBA MEIN LAGI KYA HAI AAJ
WOH UNIVERSAL KA BADA SA BURGER
PERSIS KI BIRYANI, GOKUL KI CHAAT
WOH PICTURE DEKHNE VIMAL MEIN JAANA
SEETEE BAJAANA, ZOR SE YAAR
WOH AGLI SEAT PAR CNI KA HONA
WOH GIRTE PADTE DILLI DARBAAR
WOH FCM MEIN YAARON KI MASTI
WOH CHUP CHUP KE CIGERETTE AUR BAR

BUS YAADEIN YAADEIN ..YAADEIN REH JAATI HAIN
KUCH CHOTI CHOTI BAATIEN REH JAATI HAIN
BUS YAADEIN………

AISA YAADON KA AAJ SAMAA HAIN
INKI KHAATIR HUM JOH YAHAAN HAIN
KAHAAN WOH CLASSES
KAHAAN WOH YAAR
WOH MASTI KE DIN
AUR WOH PYAAR
WOH FCM MEIN GUZAARE LAMHEY
WOH MEETHEEN YAADEIN
WOH KHATTEY KHAYAAL

BUS YAADEIN YAADEIN ..YAADEIN REH JAATI HAIN
KUCH CHOTI CHOTI BAATIEN REH JAATI HAIN
BUS YAADEIN………

WRITTEN BY
SQN LDR SUMIT KAPOOR
SQN LDR VIVEK TRIPATHI

SINGERS
SQN LDR PRATEEK GODIYAL
SQN LDR SUMIT KAPOOR
SQN LDR VIVEK TRIPATHI

ENACTED BY
SQN LDR TUSHAR PANT
SQN LDR ANKUSH SAHAY
FLT LT HARI OM DUBEY
FG OFFR NIKHIL NIRANJAN

SO WHY VAISHNO DEVI ?....An Excerpt

So why Vaishno Devi…!! As I said earlier I am not an atheist, but logic does play some role in my approach to life. That holds good as I contemplate about this place. Geologically, what is Vaishno Devi? A geologist walking into this cave would claim that this was a fine example of rock formations, may be stalactites and stalagmites, situated at the top of the mountain. In another country, this place might have been perceived in a very different manner, may be as a tourist spot referred by Nat Geo. But then, this is India! Years ago a sage of repute would have made a journey to this location to detach from the world and meditate. Unlike the geologist, he would have perceived this place as the marvel of Mata Vaishno Devi. He saw the three goddesses in the rock formations here. And so it must have come to be known far and wide.

Perceptions may vary, but perceptions are not what make this place exceptional. There exists a much stronger power, a power above religion, above spirituality and a power above divinity…For here exists the power of FAITH. A force that can make ordinary humans do extraordinary deeds, a force that strengthens the basic human character to such a level that surpasses the need of any other ability in any form. It is not physical fitness or stamina that matters any more, otherwise how does one explain my mother’s achievement in making it to the top and back…on foot. And she was not the only one. In fact I witnessed a vast number of older ones making this trip. These were the average typical Indians, but there was nothing typical about them here. For here they all, young and old, out grew themselves. They were here to rekindle their faith. They were here to because they wanted to believe that they believed in that Almighty God. This gave them the strength to face the tough times in their lives with an invigorated conviction.

It was not a miracle that many went back and overcame their tribulations. I assume that it was the change in approach towards them that made them easier to overcome. And this came with the faith that Mata was up there watching them. If they could make this climb, they could climb over their difficulties and Mata Vaishno Devi would ensure that in their lives. Thus in a way, making this journey acted on the person’s self confidence and esteem, may be at a subconscious level. But it did have an impact.

I HAVE LIVED NOW!!!

I have lived now, i have taken it all,
It all belongs to me
I have tasted the wine and the meat and never regretted at all.
You can call me evil, you can call me weak,
You will still fear me,
Earth shall not go to the meek.

I live for tomorrow,
Its all his grace
I share the pain and sorrow,
Of holiness I speak.
I care for one and all,
and fight my demons alone.
I have seen it all and won.

We are the saint and sinner, all wrapped in me.
They make me complete.
A little of this to be a good man,
a little of that to live in this world.
No black or white would ever stay
Grey it is all, shades of grey.

A CIGARETTE IS A LOVE STORY

You pick it up and you like it...the complete thing...it belongs to you, you know!! You want it all for yourself. And as you light it up, you light up that flame. The warmth kind of beckons you to a stimulating yonder you have been to before. It’s a great feeling I swear, Oh yes it is!! You feel that newness in it when you put it to your lips and take it in like you drank from her sweet lips the first time. The warmth flows inside you as it did when you held her close. You smell it in every breath just like her intoxicating perfume that had driven you wild. The flame smolders in your hand and the heat reminds you of her in your arms.

But somewhere deep inside a thought, a doubt engulfs you. Is it right? Do you really want it that way? No...You dont care...it doesn’t matter! And you shun those deliberations aside and try to focus on the present, only on that stub of smoke kissing your lips like your beloved and you it in like you had taken her...like you have always done. It is a great feeling; you live for this moment… oh yes!! Like you had been waiting for it to happen and it did. It fills up your senses and lightens you up just like her thoughts. Something snaps in you and tells you of that profound sense of belonging to each other…just the way it was when she was near you.

But as the cigarette burns, you realize its not going to last. It will end…burn out…extinguish, just like love always does. And there won’t be much that you will be able to do except throw that stub away like you tried to do with her memories. You will try to avoid it, keep away from it like you tried keeping away from her…or any thing that reminded you of her.

Come on, you know you are not capable of that …are you? How long would you resist my friend! Before long you will open up that pack again like you tried to start a new chapter in your life after her. And as you look at it, hold it in your hand; you are reminded of the time when you had sworn that you would not light up another. But still you do! It is like getting involved, falling in love all over again.

But somewhere deep inside, that first cigarette still burns, just like your first love. You can’t get rid of that …ever! It seethes slowly...hurts. Or is it that you really never want to get it out of your system. You like the memory of the time when it all started.

But it’s a new cigarette now, a new love again. Oh yes a cigarette is like a love story.

Or is it that a love story is like a cigarette!!