Promises of life

Surrender,
for there is no choice,
my dear friend.

Games she
played didn't work
wins got lost.

But now we
know what stakes are
left dear friend.

The saga
called life doesnt make
or break you.

Its how you
and I kept promises
all untied.

This haiku is on prompt "Betrayal" through Haiku Heights.  
The theme I have chosen is betrayal of life.

It took sometime...

Image courtesy Fotolia

"But they all look the same to me. How do you know which one?" Pooja was very confused seeing the never ending blue rimmed houses on the sides of the lane. She had not eaten since morning and her father was going berserk making her walk for so long.

Why did we have to come all the way to Capetown only to see her? Why was she so important? Her thoughts just couldn't stop hitting her mind throughout. But her dad looked far from such aberrations, he was pacing about the street with such infused vigour.

The woman had to be someone special,Pooja concluded in her mind.

"It should be right around this corner," she heard her father speak a million times.

"Papa can I please sit for a while, I am very tired," she pleaded.

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He had finally relented. He made Pooja sit on the side bench and continued with his desperate search. Desperate. Eight years back also he had felt the same. And today probably he would see the not so befitting end to the story. The story will end that he was completely sure of but whether the pain attached with it would, he wasn't. Who was he fooling, he thought, the pain would never end.

"The house here they don't seem to have numbers. Could you please help us track this address," he   asked a bystander.

"Yes of course. This is Maria's house, right around that corner. You missed a lane," the stranger replied smilingly.

Maria. The name itself brought a hint of sad smile to his face. After so long he would meet her. What would he say? What would she say? He knew now that the destination was not far, he in fact could see the door to the mentioned house. He settled his hair and began walking backwards to pick up Pooja. After all it was because of her she had come all along to Capetown. That is what he would want to say to himself, deep down he knew that Pooja was only an excuse. He had been wanting to make this trip since a long time. But the situations and courage never supported him.

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"Papa where have we come?" Pooja asked him innocently.

He couldn't react. He only continued to watch the door in front. No name, no number nothing. Not even a keyhole and yet he could somewhere feel the person on the other side. He didn't know whether it was his heart or his own senses that were calling out to her but without so much as a knock the door flew open.

She looked pale, her eyes had lost the shine they held eight years back. But it was the warmth in her skin, the softness of her expression which years and misery could not affect.

Maria moved her gaze from him to Pooja. She went on watching her with such a heartfelt emotion that almost anyone could judge what that child meant to her. Pooja was only two months old when Maria came with her to him. They had been in love but due to family pressures and lack of conviction he couldn't fulfill his long forlorn promises.

"Papa I am thirsty," Pooja began to talk a little frantically.

Maria quickly picked her up and in that subtle fashion followed him inside.

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"I am sorry if I troubled you. But after mother passed away I have been feeling a bit lonely. I only wanted to meet her," Maria spoke, sitting at the oval dining table she continued to look at Pooja playing outside.

He didn't reply.

For a while neither spoke.

"Maria, Rekha left me last month. She walked out of the marriage. And today I am here not just to make you meet Pooja but to start over new. Something I should have done eight years back," he replied soberly.

She didn't speak or react because inside in her hearts were emotions she had long forgotten she could feel. And she knew that to finally realise it was happening would take some time.

This post has been written for Write Tribe

Chaar log dekhnge to kya kahenge

We must have heard these words from our parents and relatives at least a million times while growing up.

“Chaar log dekhnge to kya kahenge".

These four people changed our whole society. The way we think,the way we grow or the way we should not grow.

These four people are responsible for our evolution, what we want or what we should want.

Now lets quickly capitulate what these four people are looking for:

1)      You cannot sleep till 10:00 AM because “Chaar log dekhnge to kya kahenge.

2)      You cannot dress as you want because “Chaar log dekhnge to kya kahenge.

3)      You should take bath everyday because “Chaar log dekhnge to kya kahenge. I really don’t know why somebody will want to see me while I am in shower.

4)      You cannot remain bachelor for long time or say till you turn 26 and onwards because “Chaar log dekhnge to kya kahenge.

5)      You should only become a Dr. or Engineer otherwise “Chaar log dekhnge to kya kahenge.

6)      You cannot go for an inter caste marriage because “Chaar log dekhnge to kya kahenge.

7)      You should try to be look more fair otherwise “Chaar log dekhnge to kya kahenge.

8)      You should come in top 3 in your school or “Chaar log dekhnge to kya kahenge.

Even after marriage these four people didn’t leave you.

First three points are common as above. There is not much of a difference when it comes to mother and wife.

Rest other points are

1)      We cannot travel on bikes otherwise “Chaar log dekhnge to kya kahenge”.

2)      We should travel at least twice every year or “Chaar log dekhnge to kya kahenge”.

3)      We need to always look our happy best or “Chaar log dekhnge to kya kahenge”.

4)      We need to remain within a certain waist diameter or “Chaar log dekhnge to kya kahenge”.

These four people are responsible for what I am today. I never saw these 4 people in my life, who are they where did they come from and where did they go. These questions troubled my mind from childhood.

After all the troubles I went through as a kid to search for these four people really made my life hell. Scarred me forever. I still search for these “Chaar log” even on facebook.

They are like my pseudo parents as they have always been silently telling me what I should do what I should have become what I want.

 And for long I suffered, but like all Hindi movie hero I started my quest. The quest of finding his lost parents, kumbh mein bichde bhai..... (background music please.) 

Yes I am a big fan of all kind of Hindi movies (Any certificate and grade) ask my wife.

After two decades of searching I finally could not find these four guys. I used all my engineering, analytical and managerial skills in my pursuit.

Keeping in mind their ever elusive nature and their secrecy they can be considered be spies, special agents or much better secret service (my personal favourite KGB).  

The article is written by husband dearest who can be contacted on twitter at Vikas_Agarwal18 

                                     Shri Shri Vikas Baba

For more articles by baba please check:Mr. No. Bond in School

                                                      The first cyber mistake

                                                                          An ISO 9001:2008 certified marriage

Maya

Did they even know why I wanted to buy that dress? I guess not. They did not know Maya. And because they did not know Maya they could not understand why I desperately wanted to buy that one particular dress.

"Sir the issue is with size. We can probably show you in another colour if you like?" the salesperson spoke in his most obsequious voice.

He of course could not judge the seriousness of my choice. I wasn't just buying any dress I was buying the dress. A dress she wanted for her fourth birthday. Today is her fifth birthday. Next year there would be sixth, if of course she wants to see it. Why am I talking like this? It is not in her hands, in fact I think there can be nothing in her hands. Her soft pale dainty hands, they lie so lifeless on the bed.

Her fourth birthday. I had wanted to buy her a dress. But had little money to do so. All my money had gone into stock market and investments and my poor girl went on crying but I couldn't buy her a dress.

Now exactly one year after I am going to buy that dress.

I began to talk more animatedly with the store manager. I wanted to explain how desperate I was to buy that one dress. How could he know? Why would he understand me? Perhaps if I told him the reason, he also must be having kids at home. Maybe then my crazy behavior would make some sense.

"My daughter slipped into coma last year same day. I was busy working on my laptop and my wife was in the kitchen when she walked out on the road unaccompanied. The truck was speeding at around sixty an hour and well we were lucky she survived. But severe brain damage," I stopped speaking because no matter how dispassionately I was narrating, the words were affecting me into choking of throat.

The store manager showed no hint of emotions and somewhere in my mind I began to see the futility of my act.

"This dress is what she wanted last year. I didn't have enough cash at that time. Today I have brought all. I only want that dress," I knew that deep inside my head the events were not going to change with my speech. But I didn't want to return with a feeling that I didn't try.

I could still remember that day as vividly as it had happened yesterday.

"Papa please can we get that dress. It matches with my new Barbie's clothes. I have this doll party to attend next week," she had spoke so sweetly, her eyes twinkling with excitement. All of four she never imagined that things could be refused. She was away from the cycles of dejection, hopelessness. Her life was all about happiness and love.

My words must have killed a part of her heart that day. "We are not going to buy it, no matter how many times you say please. Have we got it?" How could I speak so harshly to her? If God gave me another chance I would never let that happen ever again. I promise. These words too I had repeated at least a hundred times each day since that incident.

"We are left with one piece it has been booked by someone. But now we will have to give you. Please try to understand we are not as cruel as we look,"the store manager replied with such softness that it instilled a glimmer of smile on my face.

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I watched her lie on that bed, white sheet with white painted walls in the background. I could hardly believe she is my child. My Maya, always chirpy always happy today she is lying on that bed so lifeless, motionless.

"Her vitals are improving. Everything now seems to be fine with her. Yet the comatose is not getting over. We are trying Mr. Sharma, with all our might. She is a child, her recovery is much faster than us. Don't lose hope," I heard the doctor speak through the trance. I was not surprised to hear him, he had pretty much encircled around these words all through the year changing a syllable hear and there but keeping the meaning intact. It meant there had been no improvement in her.

But I will not give up. I will not let my child slip out of my life. She is all I am left with. Radhika, my wife left the house a couple of months back. Not because she doesn't love me or because she wants her life back. She is pregnant. With our second child and we all felt that its better she moves to a happier surrounding for a while. The thought of pregnancy did make her happy, but for me it brought little or no hope. I wanted Maya back. No child could take her place for me.

"She is fine. No you don't have to come back. I will manage. How is your health?" Radhika called in that instant for the regular update. I kept the call time to bare minimum not discussing the downsides much.

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"Oh its her birthday today!" The nurse exclaimed watching the colourful decorations in the hospital room.

"Yes. Her fifth birthday. She loved celebrating birthdays not just hers of everyone. She said its like God asks you to be especially happy on that day and its our duty to abide," I spoke smilingly, placing the heartshaped cake on the side table.

The nurse didn't reply and a part of me didn't want to look up to know why. From experience I could say she was crying. It made me uncomfortable. I know I am in pain and no I am not comfortable parting with it. I deserve it, I don't need self pity. I am being punished for what I did.

"Papa please can we buy that dress," she had gone on repeating it the whole day and I had dismissed her each time.

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"Happy Birthday to you," I sung the song softly into her ears all day. I wanted to make every second on that day special. I asked the nurse to make her wear the new dress. There was huge pomp and show. We brought all the kids from the various wards of the hospital to come and wish her.

"But she doesn't speak?" They would all ask so innocently.

To some we would say, "she is under spell like snow white waiting for her prince" to others we would say, " she is wanting to make fun of you and so she is acting." But they all enjoyed the gathering. We played, had fun exchanging plentiful of gifts and soon it was night time.

I had to go back to change and get new clothes for next day. So I asked the nurse to take care of her while I went.

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It was almost twelve by the time I returned. It had even begun to rain. It was only March, such sudden showers often make people sick. I thought to myself. Lost in thoughts and ducked under the rain I reached the hospital.

They were all waiting for me outside. Each and every single staff member was standing outside with an expression that spoke much. My heart sank still I continued to provide hope to myself. I went on muttering "she is alright" "she is alright". My steps brought me rather swiftly to her bed.

"Papa you bought the dress for me. I love you," she thronged her arms around me.

I didn't know what to say and suddenly I found myself crying. I realised that probably the cycle was now complete. My punishment was over, my girl was back with me.

"I love you too. Promise me you will never leave me and go," I finally found my voice.

"Where did I go? I was right here. I was sleeping that's what you thought. But I saw you each day bringing in food and chocolates for me. I want them all now, I will eat," she replied happily.

For the life of me I could never understand how she knew all of that. We had all assumed she was in comatose condition but then that was the least of my problems now.

Bond and Blonde- When I grow up

Comic number 6:

Please click on the picture if need better clarity :)

Bond and Blonde is a recently initiated series of comic strips on the blog.

Just in case you have missed the past four please find them here (would help understand the theme as well):

Bond and Blonde 1- Woman on Top
Bond and Blonde 2- Don't spread rumours
Bond and Blonde 3- Settling down
Bond and Blonde 4- Quite close to the truth
Bond and Blonde 5- The right direction