A good writer strives for appreciation as much as he strives for constructive criticism; and how can he expect criticism and/or appreciation when his content is only out there for a select few? It is much more difficult to convey heartwarming and heart wrenching emotions through the tactical use of fundamental elements than resorting to serpentine words with equally esoteric contexts.
The antidote to pain is not happiness, neither is it love. You can gulp down all the alcohol in the world, pump your veins full of drugs and you'd still feel empty as the vacuum enveloping you.
Heroes are not hard to find, though there may not be cape-clad, mask-wearing bloodthirsty vigilantes around (god knows we need them!) but they do come in various shapes and sizes and in different ages as well.
If I cut myself tonight, would you feel the pain? Of course not! It’s a stupid thing to ask, really. How could you? Especially when we have not spoken a word to each other for over three years now? Separation has taught me well. I learned that heartache is a difficult thing to heal. It is better to focus the pain elsewhere. Because there are no pills for heartache. There are no bandages available to heal the invisible gaping wound. The only option left is ‘time’, and that doesn’t heal very fast. Sometimes, it doesn’t heal at all.
Someone grabbed me by my collar and my eyes met the same pair of eyes that gorged a part of my soul earlier- PS was the Coordinator in charge of the whole floor our class was. Though getting caned lashes were no good after an exhausting session, Dev got the exact same lashes as me and that made me somewhat happy. Beaten, broken and after four more classes and three strenuous hours later, Shilajeet and I decided the day called for some refreshments and refreshments meant chilled beer and a few fags.
Sheetal is from Jaisalmer, Rajasthan which was in a state of political and social turmoil. The agenda revolving the turmoil was women empowerment and education. The whole state was known to be the most male chauvinist state among all the Indian states. Sheetal worked against the status-quo and look at her state today! Running, as fast as she could from potential death bringers but she was not afraid for herself, a little maybe but what she feared most was the work which she did for the last five years, secretly arranging meetings, teaching women to read, rebel, and rise against all injustice meted out to them.
“Honey, your soup is ready”, said the kind old lady. Jonaki’s aunt was not her real kin, someone who too got involved in a prostitution ring and was in police custody. On the top of that, she herself was impoverished and penniless. Jonaki was soon picked up by a local NGO and within weeks, a meeting was set up with the elderly woman who decided to adopt her until Shiuli arrived. “This is tasty! This is chicken naa?” questioned Jonaki with delight, her eyes shining. “No this is a mushroom!” the lady retorted back, barely trying to hide the pseudo anger. She wanted to raise the little girl to be adept in all the city methods. “You’re excited about the meeting tomorrow, isn’t it?” the woman patted Jonaki’s back smiling.
A speeding car reminds me of perspective and I start pushing my cart at a slightly higher pace. But I could never reach that speed, even if I lighten my wobbly four wheeler of the love that I was selling, of the love that was already stale. Blame the rain.
I stared at her countenance unsure of what to do; she seemed to enjoy the food given to her. I look at the puppy which is now sitting under the exact seat where I was sitting, I give the poor creature some biscuits too and it happily obliges wiggling its tiny tail. I am happy! Moments later I hear the familiar whistling of a train, my train. It is time for me to go.
The white stick demanded to be smoked, it was luring me somehow and images of my father smoking one at the end of every day inspired me. Most sons try to impersonate their fathers, in matters good and bad, they are their heroes, after all.
I smoked one, the first drag parched my throat, a cough rose from my belly, but I desperately tried to suppress it.