Raoul - 14

Earlier

Masud sat languidly in the chair opposite to Raoul and Lyana, the only sign of life he was showing was his ever shifting eyes which appeared to be in a hurry to absorb every sight. Raoul had always found it annoying, but today when he wanted to reach the matter's crux he found it infuriating. Lyana could sense the unease in Raoul.

To lighten the situation, she asked if Masud would like to have something and as soon as the words were out, she regretted saying them, knowing that Masud could never turn down a freebie even if it was the need of the hour.

 Masud ordered for nasi goreng istimewa, fried rice served with lightly fried egg, cucumber slices and kerupuk along with a cup of regular coffee (Lyana thought it was a strange combination for the hour). As soon as the dish arrived he dug into it with large spoonfuls.

 
Raoul found it difficult to control himself any longer, slamming the table loud enough for it to rattle, he asked Masud if he knew anything about the robbery at the Museum. Masud looked at Raoul, blinking his eyes, all colour draining from his face. Masud was never a pleasing face to look at, with the colour gone, he appeared corpse-like, choking on his food. He reached for the glass of water midst the sputtering. Raoul reiterated his question to Masud.

Masud told Raoul that he was not sure as to what he was talking about. Raoul lunged forward, covering the small table in one small movement and said, "I am asking this one last time. Don't force me to call the cops and turn you over to them. Might just put some sense into your brain."

Masud looked placidly at him, slowly chewing on the food in his mouth, all the while reminding Raoul of a cud-chewing cow. He said agonizingly slowly, "Alright, I might just know something about what you are talking. And, no, I was not directly involved. Yes, I did borrow sis's car. Had given to a couple of buddies for a few hours. Them might have been the ones you are talking about."

Raoul felt like wringing his neck with his bare hands, may be that would make him speak faster and more intelligent. To think, he had been a student at the best university at one time.

We just do not care enough...

Different countries.... two incidents...

In the first, a troubled man shot 20 kids, kids who had yet to live a life... in a school soon after he had given a similar fate to his mother. A mother who probably felt safe knowing that she had a gun at her home, safe in the knowledge that she could protect herself and her family from the 'evil'.

Little did she know that the 'evil' she so feared was lying dormant in her own hearth, waiting, waiting very patiently with a bated breath, for the time when her son would be the one to assimilate it and become the harbinger of 'evil' and death.

She had always felt safe but that day was a cursed one wherein her son took the gun and listened to the voices in his head. The voices which whisper to all of us, coaxing us to pay deference to them, to be one with them. Most of us are able to curb these voices and make a rationale decision.

Unfortunately, Adam Lanza was not able to ignore the voices in his head and believing these to be true, did what he thought was the best.... Rest we all know

He  had become a manikin to a malice which had spread in the society, a keen desire to possess a gun, a desire which was fueled by the hunger to earn more profits. The shootout led to many a candle-light vigils, many responses on the social media, sharing of the horrific images in order to sensitize the masses. There were demands for change in the gun laws

Another country.... a girl raped, tortured and thrown off a moving bus. A nation awakens, its youth getting together to speak out against the terrible crime committed against the humanity. They still are rallied as I write, braving the cold and the apathy of the government which after a month finds itself at sea about how to handle the situation.

A government which did not find the courage to address the nation on an issue which appears to have shaken the masses out of a deep slumber. A government which is headed by people who treat the many of the issues being faced by  the nation as 'chalta hai'

But does all of this make a difference to the people after the 'dust' has settled, when the people have left the place of vigil, have gone back to the mundane, to the false sense of safety which comes after a time of turbulence.

The question to ask is, 'Was it the first shootout or was it the first incidence where a woman had been shamed by the ones who were supposed to protect her'? The answer is a loud NO. It was not the first time and it would not be the last.

Many a time such incidences have occurred in the past and might happen in the future too.

The vigil of the masses have moved and scared the ruling regimes across the nations and across the sands of time, from the French Revolution to the recent upheaval in the Arab nations, causing a shift in the power structures. Masses lamentably are easily lulled into a false sense of security. The awakened multitude needs to accept its responsibility for the choices it allows people in power to make on its behalf.

The responsibility which would weigh heavy on all of us, forcing us to be proactive. 

Anger

Anger... extremely harsh.. acrid
emotions which cause acrimony
aggravate, annoy antagonise and make the blood boil
Antagonises friends to foes
Belligerent attitude, blue in the face expression, teeth chattering, bristling hair
Bitter taste of the mouth, burning brow, caustic words
Choleric conversations, churlish intonations
Coldness of heart, enraged utterances
Foaming at the mouth, frustrated with challenges
Hopping mad, infuriated ventings
Livid with outrage 
Rancorous, smoldering, vitriolic, wroth spiel

Soul

Pain.... refuses to go away
everyday is a new struggle
struggle to stay ahead
ahead of the pain
pain which debilitates
debilitates every breath
breaths which are labored and few
every breath which brings a hope for relief
leaves mocking the heart
heart which grows despondent
despondency which takes root in the bones
and grows
grows stronger embracing the soul in its cold shroud
eyes of the soul which look at the slow death from without
a sense of separation
so complete

A restless night

It was a pleasant autumn night with stars shining, a gentle breeze whispering to the leaves in the trees, trying to wake them up. She had finished with her work for the day and having slipped into her favorite pair of pyjamas  was looking forward to a well rested night. She had a busy day ahead.

Looking wistfully outside the kitchen window at the darkness, she wished it had been a weekend. This weekend was going to be relaxed for her, with her family going away. She could not accompany them due to her office work; any other time she would have felt, but of late a sense of disconnection had creeped into her.

She sighed, picked up her coffee mug and moved towards the bedroom. Her husband and son had already slipped into a world of oblivion through sleep. She envied them; the ease with which they could sleep, while she just could not sleep even with the prescribed drugs (she had long forgotten where these were lying).

Opening at the bookmarked page, she lost herself in the book. It was a soft romantic, not quite to her taste but since she had picked it up at a friend's place and had to reach the end, she settled down to read the next few chapters, before drifting off to sleep.

Finding herself dozing off, she thought she must be tired today, switched off the lights and embraced the much-awaited sleep.

She was soon dreaming of places long forgotten. Her dreams had always been vivid, with such minute details that often it seemed that she was physically present. In her dreams she visited far off places, places which seemed to have been obliterated from human memories, waiting to be rediscovered, to be visited again. Waiting, shrouded in mystery like a ghost.

She reached the gates of a big city with huge gates which were being guarded by soldiers, who were friendly and let her enter. Smiling benignly at them, she moved on exploring the houses, chatting up with the merchant and vendors in the market. They all seemed to know her and called out to her by her name. She was not surprised, this was often-stance in her dreams.

She entered a palatial house, the owner of which was not present and seemed to be waiting for a rightful owner. Gliding across the halls, she noticed that she was dressed as the lady of the house in long flowing peach colored gown. It was extremely flattering with an empire waist and a gorgeous flowing skirt. The neckline was in the shape of a V with a matching rosette. There was see-through caplet in the matching shades which made the gown more alluring. She stood and admired herself, all the real life flaws having been removed.

As soon as she started to feel hungry, servant appeared with a tray full of food of her liking. She sat down to a sumptuous and decadent meal, which started with juicy fruits and finished with the choices of sweetmeats. Having gorged herself with food, she felted sated and drifted off to sleep.

She was deep in her dream sleep when she felt someone standing near her. She felt a chill run down her spine, tried to open her eyes, but they seemed to have been fused shut. She turned over, the feeling having passed, she settled back into her dream sleep. She felt a talon like finger moving towards her face, tried to move but found herself unable to move. She struggled to move away from the hand.

The finger became a long nail which moved agonisingly slowly across her face, seeming to be caressing her. She was repulsed but failed to do anything. She wreathed away.

The talon like finger was replaced with a leathery feeling tongue, when she woke up and found herself back in the safety of her room, with her son and husband sleeping soundly. She felt the spot in the centre of her forehead tingling and her breath shallow and hard, as if she had been running a mile. She touched her forehead to calm herself, came back with a sweaty palm. She closed her eyes, as soon as the lids closed, they flew open, when she saw a man dressed in yellow with a sinister smile on his face which had a scar running across from just below the centre of the eye to the other side of the chin.

Her heart jumped trying to escape from her chest. It was too real to be just another dream. She sat up, scared to close her eyes, fearing the sinister smile. She stayed up for some time and just as she closed her eyes, there he was leaning against the same tree, waiting for her, mocking her, knowing that soon she would close her eyes.

She tried to get her mind away from the nightmare, and tried to immerse herself in the novel. The leery lopsided smile seemed to jump at her from the pages; she could feel the impatience of the owner of the smile at being denied an entry to the place she was at. He seemed to be hanging just outside the boundary of awareness.

Try as hard as she could, she found herself surrendering to the sleep. He was there, yellow teeth breaking into a smile with drool flowing from the corner of his mouth. He looked at her with his black beady eyes, shuffling closer to her. This time she was ready, so ready for this.

She thought of a dagger which appeared in her hand. He seemed to be aware of her thoughts, snickered at her feeble attempt and wished the dagger away. She felt helpless, and tried to run away to the safety of her room, back to the safety of knowing of her world.

She stepped back, found herself frozen to the spot, looking in horror at the fast approaching figure of her nightmare. She knew there was no escape this time, realising how many times he had followed her across her so many dreams, always on the outside, waiting for a chance when her guard was down.

She prayed that something would wake her up from this nightmare and closed her eyes.

Raoul - Part 13

Earlier

The car stopped in front of a sad building which at one time had had a proud facade. Raoul and Lyana stepped out with trepidation  an ominous boding telling them that there was something amiss. They shared a nervous look, moved towards the entrance of the building  The building had once been pristine white but the vagaries of time had peeled off the colour and now it stood lamenting its own loss, reaching a point of no concern.

They looked at each other and with an almost imperceptible nod, moved inside the building. The interior was dark; took some time for their eyes to adjust to the darkness. Raoul moved with caution holding on to Lyana's hand instinctively. They could hear people breathing at the fringes of the light, a muffled cough, whimpering, but were not able to see any recognisable human form. Lyana clutched on to Raoul's hand, cursing herself for acting brave and trying to protect a cousin who had been given upon by everyone. They reached the suspiciously rickety looking stairs , shuffling through the long corridor in near darkness.

As they climbed the stairs, Raoul cursed under his breath for having listened and agreed (!?!) to Lyana's idea of trying to discover the truth from her cousin. He muttered, 'This is what you get from trying to reach the truth. When will you learn, Raoul.. when will you learn!! All these years should have made me wiser, but do I ever learn!?'

Lyana pressed on his hand, tugged at him, pointing towards a room which had a threadbare door protecting whatever was inside. Raoul looked at Lyana who motioned with her head that her cousin was supposed to be in the room. Raoul knocked on the door or what was left of the door. Getting no answer from inside, Raoul pushed the door which opened with a creak and fell down with a huge thud making the whole building quiver and shake to the foundations.

Peering within the room, Raoul called out for door, 'Masud, are you there? This is Raoul and Lyana'. There was a small voice from one corner of the room, 'I am here. Its nice to be visited by you. Instead of coming you should have asked me to come over.' As the sentences formed, a figure seemed to detach itself from the dark and form into what seemed to be Masud. Raoul found his hand being pumped vigorously By Masud. Skipping over the niceties, Raoul asked him to accompany them to a barista in the neighbourhood.

.... to be continued... 

Faith in God

My relation with God has been strange and tumultuous at times but one which started as a child. I remember holding on to my Nani's hand on cold foggy mornings and walking through the long meandering dusty fields, with her chanting the bhajan in her lilting voice. I was awestruck by the fragrance of sandalwood and the bhabhoot which was made by the constantly burning kund in front of a huge idol of Lord Shiva, sitting with his third eye closed and his one hand raised to bless. His face had a serene look which always gave me a reassurance that everything was going to be okay.

I looked forward to going to Nani's house not only because it meant that I had the time of my life with cousins but also due to visits to temple. With time the hand holding on to my hand changed from that if Nani to Mamu to finally Mami but every time I went I was reassured with the smile of benevolence and I came back feeling bliss.

As I grew up, my mother ensured that things went on smoothly with me reading  everyday for a few of the kids of our neighbourhood (I am sure they must have been wondering if I was indeed as sane as I seemed), most of them a few years younger to me from the mythology books. It was something I enjoyed and helped in making my belief stronger in a greater force over looking at the welfare of everyone.

The relation between me and Him soured not much later as I felt that I had been abandoned by Him. I was unable to understand as to how someone who is supposed to be benevolent be immune and non-responsive to so many fervent appeals for help. I decided if He did not want to be on my side, well, I too did not want to be in the same corner. I continued visiting temple but never again did I talk to Him there; for that I waited till the nightfall when I had a daily conversation which actually often started with a Hello and went on with my ramblings for quite some time. He never replied so I came to the decision that He did not exist. Blasphemous.... May be but at the time it made perfect sense.

The distance grew but there was always a hope that He was nearby; how else could I rationalize the sanity at the end of the days. There were many an instances of an 'out of skin' experience which could not be explained and at such times I just sent a prayer hoping it would be heard if not answered.

There was a time when I lost faith and stopped all communications and was uncomfortable around people who believed and still held onto their faith. I looked at such people with a visible disdain. After fighting against the faith one night (I have a habit of analyzing the day gone before sleeping) it just dawned on me that all these years He had been by my side, in the form of family, friends and myself. Often I had gone to the edge of the precipice when things had seemed bleak and every time there had been a helping hand, a shoulder to lean on, a thought which had come as a support.

Though still not able to visit the places of worship on a regular basis, it has become second nature for me to talk to Him regularly. It is good to feel that you have God backing you all the way.