The winner

The winner

She strutted down the sidewalk with her head held up high with confidence, scorning the world around her; ordaining herself the queen of all the mere mortals that walk the earth. She sneered at that girl, that frivolous creature who always has her head in the clouds. The venom throbbed through her veins and she seethed with anger as she thought about the moment that was about to come.
The day she had been waiting for all her life.

The end.

She wasn’t going to endure it any longer, the torture she went through every time those people played with a dilemma in their inconsequential minds. She knew that witch had unimaginable power, she wove a foggy veil with her magic and covered their eyes with it so they wouldn’t see where they were headed. She cajoled and cooed as she pulled these gullible airheads by the hand and lead them down a false colorful path.

She looked up and she saw her waiting. In an open place, with no witnesses. Absolutely nobody. She had her face turned to the sky, with an oblivious smile playing on her lips. She had an aura of serenity enveloping her, was she really a witch? For a split second, she felt almost sorry for this pretty being. She caught herself before she turned around and headed back. NO! She was not going to fall into the trap that so many others fell into. She was not one of those senseless human beings. She held her ground and walked toward her carefully. She wondered how her magic would work on her. Would she be lead down the false path too? Would she let herself be walked down that path?

***

She turned around and faced her, as her smile spread wider across her heart shaped face. Her voice was like a song, perfect to make any person believe every word she was saying. Her eyes twinkled as she saw her friend after what seemed like ages. She was happy that she wanted to meet her. But it was an odd place to be meeting. She would rather have met at a fair or a park, somewhere colorful and full of life, because this space was so devoid of every joy known to her.

She looked at her pitch black hair which was clumped, unwashed and disheveled. Her eyes showed no sign of emotion and her skin looked aged, as if she’d endured every single trouble this world had to offer her. She felt sorry for her friend. She wanted to reach out and give her a comforting hug. She wanted to tell her that it was going to be okay. But she didn’t move. She just quietly smiled and hoped it would convey everything that she wanted to tell her.

The beginning.

She contemplated holding out a hand so she could show her a new world rather than the dreary one she was living in. Perhaps if she said something now, it would change her situation right now. It might be a new beginning for her. She pondered over using her magic to start an idea she had been playing with her head. Perhaps, if she just spoke! Her beautiful pale pink lips quivered as she whispered, “Hello… I hope…”

***

It was done. Quick and easy. Ha! No more… No more…

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First Patient

First Patient

She lay there on her stomach, motionless. She didn't even flinch when six people crowded around her, whispering in eager tones. I suspected her to have scoliosis, but I wasn't sure. She had very pale skin, rubbery almost, with absolutely no blood running through her vessels. I detected nail polish on her fingers, which she probably tried unsuccessfully to remove because it looked patchy. I took a step forward but the stench emanating from her was unbearable. I covered my nose and peered over to her other side. I tried to bend her hand, but it was locked down. Rigor mortis. There she was, dead.

I still don't understand the concept of donating your body to science so inexperienced medical students can poke and prod you. It's a very noble thing to do, I think. Here I was, about to cut through a human being, who gave herself up to me so I could learn. I thought about what kind of a life she would have lead. She probably was just like me. She probably laughed, cried, ate and slept. She probably had a family who is grieving her loss as I write this.

But I will confess, even though I thought of all of this, when I was actually cutting through her, she didn't feel human at all. It felt like I was cutting through a mannequin, as crude as it sounds. She wasn't alive, her body had been preserved which made her skin appear pruney, she was surrounded with embalming fluid, and her muscles and skin were completely devoid of blood. When I held her brain in my hand, I was in awe. This thing that fit in my hand was what made her function everyday. What made her limbs move, what made her think and feel, and love. Yet, it felt like another one of my 8th grade dissection's through a lamb's brain. It didn't feel like I was cutting through a human.

Maybe this approach is good in a way. They're teaching us to work under pressure, to work quickly and efficiently. If I get caught up in wondering what kind of life she lead, what she was like, I probably wouldn't have learned anything. I would've been stuck in a web of contradicting emotions. I pushed them all aside and focused on the science, which helped me appreciate the intricate workings of the human body.

I suppose it'll only get harder. I try not to think about what lies ahead in my clinical years. A seminar today showed me the ups and downs of what I might face later on. Watching people suffer from pain, watching people waiting for death to come whisk them away and possibly even being the one to tell their loved ones of their loss. But it also showed the beautiful side of medicine. Where I will witness the joy on a mother's face, listen to a newborns first cry and possibly even watch the child grow.

I look forward to traveling down this path and so I begin this journey with my first patient... Who is teaching me a lot, scientifically and emotionally. I will forever be indebted to her for allowing me an opportunity to learn and gain insight into the workings of the human body... and in helping me discover myself...

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Going on 22

Going on 22

He was so hard to read. His face expressions, his demeanor, his subtle mysterious smile... Everything bout him was so hard to decipher. His words were all I could go on. He said he liked the gift. He said he liked the strawberries and creme. He said he didn't like the cold black coffee. He said he liked NYC. He said he loved the hudson. And that's just it... The ONLY thing I could decipher was his love for the Hudson river. I could literally SEE the peacefulness wash over his face when he told me how his friends and him would waste away entire evenings sitting in front of the Hudson river. and thats bout it...

It was completely opposite to me. No squeals of excitement, no hyperness, no constant high pitched babbling... nothing. it was more of a deep, low, smoothly flowing murmur, a nod of acquiscence here and there; acknowleding his likes.A crooked suave grin with his chin lifted upward to display humor or lightheartedness, or a fleeting powerful glance when our gazes met like he was about to dive into my eyes and come out a victorious warrior with a prize of figuring me out... it was ALL of that. The whole mysterious aura around him was impenetrable. He did talk bout his life, his pets, his home but the calm look never left his face. All I had were his words to go on...

It was perfect. It kept me on my toes... kept me thinking. Kept me wanting to observe him. Whenever he would look down to take a sip of his bitter black coffee, or whenever he bent down to pick up the strawberries and creme, I would quickly run my eyes from top to bottom. Tryin to take in his dark blue cotton shirt unbuttoned at the collar, his blue, slightly faded jeans, and his brown shoes.

I observed the way he sat, completely confident. Fearless. Especially when he sat across from me in Starbucks. A cool posture. A slight slouch that every young person has nowadays, but he seemed to hold himself up with a subtle sort of composure. I saw how his muscles flexed in his arms when he picked up his backpack. His eyes were small, not expressive at all. But whenever he was trying to remember somethin, he would roll them, and part his lips a bit, thinking hard...

His smile... I have no idea how to even start to describe it. I couldn't understand it at ALL. It was crooked, lopsided, very handsome... The grin... always the grin. Never a hearty laugh. I haven't heard him laugh at all. Maybe give me a small chuckle, but not laugh. And it makes it even more mysterious. Makes me think, "To wht extent did he feel tht humor? The small chuckle doesn't tell me anything". Or maybe he just didn't find anything that amusing to give a hearty laugh. Or maybe my conclusions are all wrong...

I enjoyed every minute... Listening, laughing and talking. I spent the entire time trying to figure him out. I couldn't... Maybe I was trying too hard. Maybe I just can't figure people out. Maybe nothing I just said has anything to do with him.

So many maybe's... So many possibilities...

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"Truth is stranger than fiction, but it is because fiction is obliged to stick to possibilities. Truth isn't."
~Mark Twain

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On the sidewalk

On the sidewalk

The scorching heat burnt through the flimsy soles of my rubber slippers as I ran down the footpath, with my eyes on the traffic light.
“Please…turn…red… Please…turn…red,” I whispered to myself, as my breath came out in short gasps.

Ah, yes. The cars lurched to a stop, but the small motorbikes were still trying to make their way through the gaps. It would have been much easier if I could have simply gone to the center of the junction and spread my straw mat in the middle, but I figured that would be too much of a risk.
I could hear the small tinkle of bells as my sister ran behind me, trying to lug the sticks and hoops that I ordered her to carry.

It saddened me sometimes to think that she had to do this too. But as usual, I just brushed it aside. This is my life and I should be thankful to God for what he has given me. People were surely worse off than me, were they not? At least we weren’t scrounging through the garbage for a meal. At least we earned our money through our talent instead of blindly begging.

We had honor, did we not? But who would recognize our honor? Would that lady recognize it? She, who was sitting in the air conditioned car, laughing and smiling like she didn’t have even a single worry.

Let alone honor… Would she recognize my pain? The pain I had buried inside of me. The pain I carried with me as I cooked dinner at night under the single oil lamp that burnt in our hut. The pain I carried with me as I watched my mother come home from working an entire day at the construction site, carrying bulks of sand that her delicate frame could not possibly support. The pain I carried as twisted and turned in my sleep because the coldness of the floor, seeping in and freezing every bone in my body. The pain I carried as I woke up the next morning, every morning, to walk barefoot to the water pump, hoping that we would have water at least today.

Ah, yes, the pain would be there… Always. Through every single one of my actions. It was screaming to the world, “Help me…” but yet, everybody around me just failed to hear it. Even amidst the millions of people on the road watching my tricks, the scream was barely a whisper.

I signaled to my sister to stop right next to a shiny black car. A Benz, was it? Yes, I think that’s what it was. I heard the shop keeper talk bout the car the other day when it passed him on the road. He said that only very rich people could afford something like that, so maybe if I performed in front of them, I would get more money.

It was an absurd thought, because it was exactly those kind of people that scorned us away. They looked down upon us as if we were some sort of filthy creatures that shouldn’t even exist in this world. But I was determined, just the same. Maybe this time…

I took the mat from my sister and spread it across the sidewalk. I stepped backward and took glanced at my surroundings. I heaved a deep sigh and tried to swallow back the hot tears that were forming. Nobody was even paying the slightest attention. They were just waiting for the light to turn green so they could zoom past us, continue with their lives and leave us with nothing but dust.

Was that person in that expensive car paying attention? I couldn’t tell because the windows of the car were tinted black, hiding the passenger, a barrier that separated the rich from the poor.

I slipped off my rubber slippers and stood barefoot, ignoring the heat frying the soles of my feet. My bangles clinked against each other as I started sprinting toward the mat at full speed. As soon as my right foot landed on the mat, I pushed myself off the ground, while the straw from the mat dug into my heels.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the car rotating. Everything was turning. Upside down. I was making the world turn upside down, with the simple act of a cartwheel. Over and over again. With another cartwheel. And now a flip. And now a backward flip. I could feel the blood rush into my head, my fingers starting to turn numb, but I didn’t stop. Out of my blurry eyes, I could see that my sister was starting her balancing act on the thin rope. That was my cue to end with a bang. To flip perfectly, delicately and graciously onto the edge of the rope stand, so I could join my sister on the rope. And I succeeded.

I would be truly happy to tell you that everybody on the road started applauding. I would love to tell you that my little bag that day was filled with so many coins and notes that it wouldn’t even fit in our hands. But I would be lying. There was no applause. Nobody bothered to give us even a one rupee coin.

This was it… I had to spread out my palms in front of those people and beg. Beg for them to acknowledge what I had just done. Beg them to give me something that was worth the tricks I just performed. Beg.

And within seconds, the light turned green, they zoomed past us, continued with their lives and left us with twenty rupees…

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"To the Future Forest"

"To the Future Forest"

Lately, thoughts about the future have been plaguing my mind. The constant worrying about grades, about whether I will end up with a decent job to pay off my loans, and just the path of life in general... And as usual, to stop worrying too much, I started to clean up to get my mind off things. I was looking through my old things today and have succeeded in making myself nostalgic... Pictures of when I was young, signatures of old school mates, old birthday cards, books that I don't read anymore (Baby sitters club!) and most important of all, my writings...

I found a story that I wrote when I was 10 years old, and it brought a smile to my face... The title I thought was fitting for the mood I am in right now and it was quite amusing that I came across it 10 years later... I had absolutely no idea that I wrote this story. It was hidden behind another story in my folder and it fell out while I was taking out the original one to read. So I would like to share it with everybody, because I figured it would be a good change to my blog... A story by a 10 year old, instead of all the other confusing writings by a 20 year old... I laughed at my ideas of the future, the setting and my writing style that I had when I was 10 years old. It definitely brightened up my day...
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"Fluffy, Fluffy!" I screamed.
"Yes, Yes. I'm coming! God, you don't have to scream your head off like that," answered Fluffy.
"Well, what do you expect me to do?" I questioned Fluffy.
"You could have just called me sweetly!" she exclaimed.
"Nancy, Nancy..." called my mom from downstairs. "Who is it you're talking to?"
"Nobody mom," I replied, "Just... Just... talking to myself".

Oh hello! I didn't realize you were here! Anyway, my name is Nancy and I'm going to the future. Yes, to the future. Not to the past. You see, my friend Sally, she invented a new time machine and she asked me if I could come and we could both travel to the future. I know it sounds weird, but its true.
Oh, and I completely forgot to tell you about my Teddy Bear, Fluffy. Now, you better not faint because I am going to tell you something which I've never told anyone before. Ready? Okay. My Teddy Bear can talk. I know what you're thinking. Teddy Bears can't talk. Well, let me tell you that they really do!
Anyway, back to the scene. I grabbed Fluffy by the hand and ran to my mom. I informed her that I was going to Sally's house. I ran to Sally and she was cleaning the time machine. It looked sort of like a big apple. We jumped into the time machine and Sally pressed the year 3000. I was astonished. I didn't know it would go that far. Then she asked me, "Which place do you want to go to?"
I replied, "Um... Lets go to the forest."
Then suddenly, the machine started jumping and wiggling about. Then ZAP! A lightning flashed, and the next thing we knew, we were in the forest. We quickly jumped out of the machine. The forest was just like a park. But there were lots of trees. There were benches and a cute nice waterfall. People were flying on little jet sort of things to places. Sally started to wander off. I tried to keep up with her, but she was too fast for me. So Fluffly and I were the only ones left.
"Lets explore a bit," Fluffy said.
So we started heading North (or was it South? I should tell you that I'm not that good in Geography and my sense of direction is quite poor).
"Oh, look!" Fluffy exclaimed.
She ran over to a flower with many colors on it. We picked a bunch of them for ourselves and we continued walking. We saw a lot of things like weeds in red color and leaves in blue color.
"Wow!" I said to Fluffy, "Things sure have changed in the future."
It was turning dark and Sally didn't return.
"I wonder where she went?" I asked Fluffy.
Fluffy replied in a scared voice, "What if she left us here and went back? What if she got lost? Or what if she got eaten by dinosaurs?"
"Don't be silly," I replied, "There are no dinosaurs here. They're only in the past. And besides, Sally would never leave us here."
Just then, we heard a growl. I immediately stopped talking. I didn't move an inch. A lion's paw stepped out from the bushes. I got up and held Fluffy tight in my hands. The lion came out. It sure looked hungry. I turned around and started running. The lion started following me. I ran and ran, until I was at the edge of a cliff. The lion came closer and closer. I stepped back. The lion opened its mouth to eat me and ZAP! Another lightning flashed yet again, and I was back in the time machine and Sally was right beside me.
"Thanks a lot!" I said angrily to Sally.
"Don't mention it," answered Sally, laughing.

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Riches

Riches

A lone figure, she stood leaning against the stalwart tree that gave her solace and support ever since she was little child. A delicate, beautiful girl she was, with dark, almond shaped eyes carefully lined with kohl, her oiled hair neatly braided into a perfect plait with jasmine flowers entwined and a flimsy white veil covering her head. Her plain glass bangles and anklets tinkled with her slightest movement, echoing into the empty night sky.

The glimmer of the moon fell upon her soft face and the wind whispered into her ear, “Dream…”
She smiled to herself, closed her eyes and let her dreams transform her world.

There was the princess, sitting majestically on the royal swing in the garden, with two maids on either side, simply waiting for her command. Her exquisite saree trailed on the ground as she swayed back and forth on the swing. Golden bangles shimmered on her wrist, silver anklets adorned her feet and, in place of a while veil, was an intricately woven kashmiri shawl covering her head. She could hear the faint trickle of water from the large marble fountain across the garden, while the sound of trumpets echoed into the warm summer air, announcing the arrival of the queen.

She knew what the queen would say now. She remembered those words that were repeated to her whenever she managed to drift of into a world of her own.

“Silly girl, riches do not buy you happiness!”

And she was jolted out of her fantasy, as she stared at her mother. She quickly picked up the bucket filled with water, and ran towards home, with one quick glance at the moon. There would always be a tomorrow… To dream…
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(The painting of the woman was done by Raja Ravi Verma. I absolutely adore his paintings, and I hope, whenever you have the time, you will be able to take a look at his amazing artwork).

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A Play of Five Seconds

A Play of Five Seconds

A glimpse was all it took, for her to recognize that the play had begun. Petite memoir marionettes danced away on the soft plump cushion of her brain, probing her, forcing her to remember the previous shows. Surprised, she stood, failing to grasp the swiftness of events that formed before her eyes.

Five seconds were simply not enough.

There stood the lead actor, who was oblivious to the entire world before him, performing his role with such confidence and poise that she was left dumbfounded. He knew people admired him, yearned to emulate him. He had created a completely different ground for himself that set him apart from the rest; for he knew where his destination lay and what road he was to follow. She was amazed at this self-assurance, and she watched every single wave and flick of the actor, making careful notes in the corner of her mind.

Yet, there was no applause for such a short play. No record that it ever took place. It was on an unknown stage, performed in front of an unconscious audience, under one watchful eye…

It was simply a play of five seconds.

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The Ultimate Deception

The Ultimate Deception

A couple of weeks ago, I was looking through my folder and I found a story that I wrote for my 9th grade english class. I don't remember what we had to write our stories on, and I don't remember the circumstances under which I made up this story called "The Ultimate Deception". But I guess nostalgia overtook my senses, and has forced me to put it up here on my blog. Hope you enjoy it...
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An eerie silence enveloped the house. The stairs groaned under my sneakers, while I stealthily treaded upstairs. My pulse quickened and my heart began to race. The only thing I could hear was the faint jingle of change in my pocket and the soft rustle of my pants. Where could he be? He should be at home by now.
I walked toward his bedroom and pushed open the door slowly. Everything was normal. I rushed toward my room and shoved the door open. Nothing was normal. Clothes were strewn across the floor. The lampshade was tilted and the bulb broken. Papers and folders were scattered everywhere. My throat was desiccated and arbitrary thoughts swiveled through my mind. What happened? Where was he? Did somebody kidnap him?
I hurried downstairs toward the phone. I picked it up and punched moms’ office number. It took me five seconds to realize that the phone had no dial tone. I smacked it down hard and picked it up again, half hoping that the firm hit would miraculously make it work. I was losing my train of thought and I had no idea what to do. I sprinted across the hall and up the stairs to my bedroom. I ran hysterically around the room searching for traces—of what? I looked under my bed, behind the desk and then I suddenly turned toward the closet. It was slightly open and a pale blue piece of cloth was protruding from the gap. I held out my hand and touched the knob. The cold feel of it was like an electrifying shock.
“Oh, please no…” I whispered to myself. I tugged the door open and suddenly froze before a grotesque sight.
He stood perfectly straight against the closet wall. His eyes were rolled far into his head. His face was pale and his lips were parted slightly. The left hand hung lifelessly while the other hand was twisted into a monstrous shape. Blood trickled out of a slit in his pale blue shirt and onto the floor where a glistening knife lay innocently smeared with blood.
A weak whimper escaped my throat while I stood rooted to the ground. Tears sprung into my eyes and blurred my vision when he suddenly dropped to the ground clenching his stomach and laughing shrilly.
“Oh, my camera… I should’ve… your face…so funny…you thought…I really… dead?” he gasped. Random words were flying out of his mouth while he cackled madly.
“Ray, if you don’t get out of my bedroom this instant then you’re really going to be dead!” I screamed, lunging forward to grab him. He ducked swiftly and ran out of the room flailing his arms wildly over his head like a barbarian.
I looked around the room and let out a long sigh. Why in world did I have to get stuck with such a brother? I was trapped in this world of immaturity forever. Everyday, the walls seem to be closing in inch-by-inch, till that day when I was probably going to snap under the pressure of his brainless shenanigans.
That was the first time that Ray pulled the ‘dead guy’ prank. The second time he did it was when he didn’t come home past his curfew and mom sent me looking for him…
I peddled across our deserted lane when, toward the end of the street, I stopped abruptly.
He was lying in a pool of blood right before my eyes. I dropped my bicycle and was about to run towards him, when I stopped myself.
“Ray! Stop it, okay? This is not the time to play one of your dimwitted pranks!”
No reply.
“Look, it’s nearly 9:00. We have to go home. Mom’s really worried!’ No reply.
I could feel the cold aura around him. I knelt down and shook him, making sure I rattled every organ inside his body.
No reply.
“Ray…” I whispered. I put my finger under his nose to detect any sign of breathing.
Nothing.
I pulled his chest to my ear, knowing that I’d definitely hear the sound of his heart.
Nothing.
“Ray, this is enough! Get up Ray!” I knew he wasn’t going to get up this time. I knew he wasn’t going start laughing or giggling. I knew he was dead.
I held him close, rocking him back and forth like he was little baby. Tears flowed down like a river and I screamed for help. The last thing I remember was a blur of blue and red lights flashing constantly and the soft murmurs of people who surrounded me…
The police said he slipped on the ice and probably swerved and hit the curb with his head. The doctors said he probably would’ve been saved if he wore a helmet. The neighbors said he was too young to die like that. I didn’t say anything.
It was just a matter of wearing a helmet, but he didn’t. He thought that he was the ‘cool’ guy if he didn’t wear a helmet. He thought that he was the ‘stunt master’ if he did dangerous tricks on his bike. He was just like any other kid.
Now, I walk toward his bedroom and push open the door slowly. Everything is normal. I rush toward my room and shove the door open. Nothing is normal. The clothes are neatly folded in the closet. The lampshade is upright and the bulb is not broken. The papers and folders are carefully stacked on top of each other on the desk. My throat is desiccated and imperative questions swivel through my mind. Why, Ray? Why didn’t you wear a helmet? If only you did. If only…

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