Infinite Darkness.

Sometimes I sit down to think, if I'm satisfied with my living

If my life would have differed, If God was a little forgiving?

I ask Him why I should be happy, when all my dreams he tore

Why should I be satisfied, when I know I could have had more?

I stand up in anger from my chair, wanting to try if I could sense

my way around my room for once, even if it was false pretence.

I was clumsy, disorganised... like a bird who's wings never flapped

But I was desperate, to shake off the feeling... of knowing I'm handicapped.

Every day I wished I was born, with a pair of eyes to glimpse

at all the things I've heard about, away from this eternal eclipse.

God knows how many times I think, about all the closed choices

about never before seen colours, the faces behind all these voices.

I try to envision being able to walk, without having to use this cane

I try to perceive what It'd be like, to look at nights kissed by the rain.

I wonder if I'll ever be able to see, all the food and drinks I savour

If I'd be able to do things on my own, instead of asking for favours.

The heart cries for this and more, not a single day can I breathe

God punish me if I'm lying, or if this has any undertone of greed.

But you know what puzzles me? Sometimes I think I'm blessed.

That I don't have to see my own kin, when they are sad or depressed.

It’s because I can't see I think, I've appreciated everything double fold

I'm happy hearing the rain, feeling the sun on my skin when I'm cold.

I'm grateful that I can't observe, all that is the Devil's property

The ugly face of terrorism or war, and the sadness that is poverty.

Sometimes I confuse myself too... What is it that I'd rather hold?

The ability to open my eyes at last, or keep them as they are... closed?

There's a rift inside to what I want, am I with this blindness, gifted?

Or perhaps I'm learning to live, until this infinite darkness is lifted.

Act of Random Kindness

There are numerous times in every person’s life when a friend, dear or distant, does something out of the blue- a call or a text message, a small note in your bag... that just lifts your heart. That small act of kindness leaves an imprint much stronger than anyone anticipates, a memory among memories, which keeps the bond of friendship ever so fresh and strong. But imagine yourself in a situation where you are struggling (and I mean big time), struggling to hold focus, to motivate yourself, to put yourself back together. You choose to keep these facts hidden from the people dear to you, afraid... that it might evoke needless sympathy and worries, which in turn will hurt you more. Then you realise, that the people closest to you are stuck in their own lives...  entangled in the fine and sticky webs they spun around themselves. Who, or what then, do you look forward to?

I was walking back from college at 8:30 P.M on a Wednesday night, another tiring 12 hour workday which started at 8 in the morning. A gruelling 2 hour football game had been preceded by 6 hours of work, without the help of breakfast or lunch to fuel the body which was by now, violently complaining for food. To make matters worse, it had started raining... and just this morning, fooled by a harsh sunny day I had removed my raincoat from my bag. Bravo Shamir... Bravo.

So here I was, literally dragging my feet in the rain, head bowed with the tiring routine when I heard a voice say “You need a lift son?”

I looked up, and saw an old man on a run-down moped from the early 1800’s I think... The kind of gift I expected from my sister for my birthday. I smiled, (very very appreciatively) and said “No thank you sir, I just have to walk about 600 metres to the bus stop. Please do carry on, thank you so much.” (I think the look of disgust on my face when I said 600 metres said it all).

But he shook his head and gave a patronising nod. “You won’t get too far in the rain in shorts and a torn football jersey. Hop on, I’ll be passing the bus stop on my way home.”

I looked at my right sleeve and true as he said, there was a big hole. The cold rainwater had been irritatingly giving me mini chills, so finally giving in, I gratefully agreed.

In the 10 minutes that the ride took, we swapped names, and a little bit of info on where we worked and where we lived. Seeing the bus stop in proximity, he stopped and then bade me a good night. I shook his hand with a new found respect for a complete stranger, a warm, genuine admiration for his random act of kindness.

The rest of the trip was a 50 minute-8 km trip in torrential downpour, but I wasn’t bothered. A little humanity from a fellow human being had filled my mind with a resolve that the world had a lot of unseen kindness to give. The best part is, I didn’t even have to find it... it walked up straight to me. Where my close friends had failed to see I needed a small dose of the “feel-good” pill, a stranger had unconsciously injected it in me. That’s the power of a random act of kindness... something that inspires me even today to do the little things... even when they seem they aren’t needed, hoping that I cheer someone else up in the process. In times of peril a little empathy, from anywhere, goes a long way... 

Miserable Monday

How I wished, the German class would just end soon,

I’m sleepy, it’s already 4:30 in the afternoon.

Boredom reached its limits; I knew I could have died,

Just as the German teacher said his 400th”Tut mir lied”.

And then I heard the magical words, from his mouth,

“German is over, now you can go out”

Pumped with energy, filled with desire,

I ran out of class like my ass was on fire.

And as I reached outside, my feet automatically stopped

I could swear my eyes from their sockets, almost popped

I saw her right there, skin as white as milk

The hair flowing down, like fine threads of silk

A thing of beauty, she glided through the street

I adjusted my path, to make sure we would meet,

I looked up then, into those beautiful eyes

With the glow and warmth of a firefly’s

And slowly but surely her head turned around

For the second time, my feet were stuck to the ground,

“Excuse me” she said”where’s the academic block?”

“Just continue straight” (Wow! She actually talked?!)

“Thank you so much” she said, with a smile so quaint

I smiled back stupidly, trying not to faint,

“Haha, you’re so cute”, she cheerily obliged

And I turned as red as a baboon’s backside.

And then fate stepped in, and took a turn for the worse

A cruel game of life, my luck turned to curse.

He came up smoothly, gave her a kiss on the cheek

And then I discovered, I had no words to speak

It was like I swallowed, a jar full of salt

What the hell did I do? Was it my fault?

The spot where he kissed her, turned a rosy red

“Madam, do you even remember anything I said?!”

It was like straight from Titanic, just different you see

She was Kate Winslet, Leornado was me,

And just as I tried to climb the floating door,

She stamped on my face, I reached the ocean floor.

“What are you thinking?” the guy suddenly said

“How to bang an iron rod, right on your head”

“Bye” she said demurely, smiling with grace

I was stranded in cold, the blood left my face

She was 23, and that was the scene

And I was a demented nutcase, only 17

It wouldn’t have worked, I sadly grinned,

To her anyway, I was a fart in the wind.

I bowed my head, gracious in defeat

Well at least I still am, single and complete.

Random Memories

It seems like so much time has passed, since I sat down to write what I feel

About you, my life or anything else, of all things with which I have to deal.

It’s been 3 months since you moved away, and every single day it seems so long

I’m sure you don’t feel the same way do you? But it’s really hard to stay this strong.

Every day for 8 months I’ve stood quietly, waiting for some miracle to fall into place

And everyday I’ve felt the same disappointment, of my dreams shot far into space.

You stay unaware of all of my efforts, and every second it’s constantly pinching

I’m coming apart at the seams right now, not a day passes without me flinching.

It doesn’t help that you pay no heed at all, to everything that I would put on the line

And how I treasure you the most out of things, which I could never really say were mine.

Try stepping into my shoes for a while, switch places with me for at least a while

I’ll wear your size 6 shoes for a day too, and then we’d both try and walk a mile.

You’ll see how you run through my mind all day, how every dream of mine has to have you

How staying so far away is damn tough on me, seconds spent NOT thinking about you are few.

How reading your text messages makes me smile, more generously than anything else

How looking at your pictures mesmerises me, enchanted like I’m under some spells.

But there’s the painful part which exceeds the good, that’ll show you how much it stings

When every dedicated try goes unnoticed, how you get pissed with the smallest of things.

You’d come to know how nervous I am, when I call you hoping you’d pick up and answer

You’ll see how it feels to be ignored, how frustration engulfs every part of you like cancer.

You’d probably learn how patient I've been, and then you can say if you can blindly follow,

Someone who doesn’t love you back at all, and be the one with all the pride to swallow.

I know we can’t exchange our places, but if you could just try closing your eyes to see

If you’d be willing to do this for YOUR love, maybe then you’d give ONE chance to me.

What’s the point of writing this anyway... You never read anything I write,

You won’t read this either but if you do... I hope you see how hard I fight.  

Discovering the Dark

A lot of people will probably agree when I say this, everyone’s personality is dominated by particular traits, prominently and clearly outlining how a person is, how he/she behaves and how their mindset is. But there are sides to everyone’s personalities, which remain dormant... waiting to be triggered by a word, a person, an incident, a situation. A calm and composed person will probably experience something which will force him/her to remove every bit of the built up anger and impatience, something unnatural to his/her usual self. Similarly, a happy-go-lucky person will go through a phase where he/she feels lonely and left out in spite of being surrounded by infinite known faces. People deep in depression learn how to rise from the ashes, the experience teaches them how to deal with the worse case scenarios life is capable of embracing. In my opinion, discovering and loving these sides lying in the dark, is critically important. Knowing yourself completely, finding out things which may disappoint or surprise you is something that makes you versatile, it’s only that when we spend time in the dark that we learn to respect the light.

My attempt at discovering the dark started one day with a simple conversation with a friend. She had just been reading the collection of my funny poems, when she asked me “Have you ever tried writing serious stuff?” I replied in the affirmative, saying I had tried hard but come up with very little stuff that made sense. Writing on personal experience was hard, things became repetitive and I sort of knew that only close friends would understand who or what I was talking about. Being spontaneous and nonsensically funny came easily to me, all I had to do was say the first thing that came to my mind. But her question forced me to re-consider, and I sat down to write something which would test my ability to be versatile, to write on something which would evoke the 1^st of the potent “3-L” emotions Love, Lust and Laughter.

I decided to try and transform a story into a tragedy, one which everyone could read and understand. There were many problems, something which took a whole lot of time to rectify. Capturing the protagonist’s accurate feelings was vital, I did not want to leave out any emotion, that would have been disrespectful to say the least .I wanted to keep it fairly simple, knowing that complicated words would mean too much was lost in translation. Writing something detailed and long, would probably make readers lose interest at a point.. 2 days of thinking and a lot of rewriting later, I came up with this-

I woke up that morning, just couldn't stop smiling,

“I'm gonna meet her today! The excitement was piling.”

This was the first time I'd see her, I'd only heard her on the phone

Endless conversations, girlish charm.. She'd had me fully blown.

"I'll see you tomorrow love.. Would 10 O'clock be fine?"

She said in a voice more intoxicating than wine.

I happily agreed.. I didn't sleep through the night

What will I say to her? Will everything be all right?

As the questions just went on, the night slowly faded

and as the clock ticked time, I felt increasingly elated.

I wore my best attire, stepped out into the sun's rays

So this was how it felt being in love.. I was totally dazed!

I reached the place we talked about, all that was left was the waiting

As I turned around, I saw her in the distance.. the one who I was dating.

She was on the other side of the street, exactly like the pictures I'd seen

She wasn't pretty or cute, but to my world she was the queen.

As her eyes finally met mine, I felt my heart was just struck

And as I blinked ever so slowly, I heard the horn of a truck.

The truck swerved out of control, it hit her body which bended

The echoes of her last scream, even today haven't ended.

I ran to where she lay destroyed, where her soul was so cruelly taken

I refused to believe she was gone,. Hoped that suddenly I'd awaken

I held her for the first time in my arm, knowing it would be the last time too

My hands were shaking, my feet were quaking, I just didn't know what to do

My eyes went numb, the tears wouldn't stop.. Her blood was on my skin

Half of me was too shocked to speak, half was ripped from within

The people started crowding around, A sea of insensitive whispers

All I needed was time alone with he, I prayed they would just disperse.

I closed her eyes, kissed her forehead, the cold skin froze my lips

They told me gently "It's no use now", and firmly tightened their grips.

I shouted and fought, like a savage beast.. every part of me grew wild

for a moment I was like a mother, separated from her infant child.

Her petite body lay on the red pavement.. not moving, ever so still

The sight of her so lifelessly limp, immediately snapped my will.

At that instant, I couldn't take no more, all I remember was falling

My mind went blank, knees gave away, my name people were calling

Later that night among all the grief.. I told myself I'd be brave

I picked my jacket, pulled it on.. then headed towards her grave

The light rain hid my tears, told me even the Gods were crying

She came and left so effortlessly, and now, even my soul was dying.

The seconds turned to minutes and then to hours..I just didn't want to leave

The fact that you were somewhere else now, was just too hard to believe.

I looked up at the sky, trying to find some...any kind of response from you

Trying to calm the urge to come to where you were, which ever so madly grew.

Your voice on the phone, so mesmerising, always kept me breathing

Now all that was left was this huge hole inside.. leaving me lost and seething.

I'll never know how it would have felt, to hug, to hold, or kiss you

But there is one thing I'll never forget, is how it feels to miss you.

4 long hours later, I gently stood back up, on her grave I left a rose

Hoping that how much I'm going through, wherever she is she knows

I went home, fell on my bed.. read her messages so subtle and clever..

The only memories I have left of her, which I'd keep with me forever.

It's been years since that fateful day.. but the memories still haunt.

If I'd not told you to meet me that day, would things still be this gaunt?

All I can do is ask questions, whose answers will remain a mystery

And I remain, a broken man.. with a dark, unforgettable history..

The response I received was really good, people congratulated me for trying something different. The fact that I was able to dig deep and find inspiration was even more satisfying. Thats why it’s something I’ve come to firmly believe in- “If you can’t make your light side any better, then polish your dark side.”

Learning the Hard Way

Have you ever woken up one fine morning, feeling something was amiss? Like a feeling in your gut that things were going to go wrong... horrendously wrong?  I remember an incident where I got up from sleep with the exact same kind of clairvoyant feeling. Little did I know that ignoring it, would be like jumping head first into an empty swimming pool.

It was the 27^th of November I think. I woke up knowing I had an exam and as my usual efficient self, I had barely managed to push past the index page of my textbook.  I mean come on... Social studies? Like, seriously? How’s History going help me? Why should I remember stuff that happened 200 years before I was born? Geography too, I DON’T want to remember which country produces the most coconuts, or which region has the most number of chimpanzees (I swear I’ve seen enough already, not to mention I look at one when I stare into the mirror every day). The only reason I DO want to know where the deepest ocean is to know where I’d be able to safely drown my Hindi teacher without being traced...  that is not the aim of geography is it? Yeah and Civics too? A deeper understanding tells us Civics points to anything “civilised”. Do I look civilised from ANY angle? As my good friend Nalin puts it, “My hair looks like an upside down pineapple.” I don’t give a flying crap about being civilised. I don’t give a flying crap about Social Studies. Hell, I don’t give a flying crap about any kind of studies in general . Sadly, the education system prevails, and I had to bang my airtight head and force myself to read.

But exams are exams right? Sad thing, but true everywhere you go. So I took my school bag and dumped everything but books into my bag (to make it seem heavy to my Mom and teachers). Nonchalantly, I walked to school, trying to memorize all the dates and places which I never seemed to remember. As I reached the classroom and sat down, I noticed an odd thing. Everyone was sitting quietly, head bent over notebooks, furiously scribbling away. Feeling a little out of place, I asked a guy (he was in the different section) “What is it with people writing so much today?”

He looked towards me like I had dropped from Mars and said “How else would you practice Maths?”

Wait wait wait! MATHS? Did I miss something here?? Frantic like a man suffering from massive loose motion, I started to sweat. “We have MATHS today?” (I didn’t want to hear the answer.)

“Yeah man, why?” He gazed even more cautiously at me.

“Nothing, thanks man” I muttered.

 First thought which passed my mind- I’m dead. If there was one subject I always feared, it was Maths. It brought out the worse in me, I swear if I was a boxer and I imagined my opponent’s face to be my Maths textbook, I would smash even Mike Tyson’s face to Jupiter. I never understood Maths, and found it pretty illogical right from the beginning. (from my perspective) I mean when I was young, the teacher told me 1+6 was 7. Next day, she told me 2+5 was 7. Third day 3+4 was 7, I mean “WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM YOU CONFUSED WOMAN?! Can’t you make up your mind like every normal person??”

And here I was, sitting with my mouth open on my desk. I was going to face my worst nightmare and I wasn’t even ready. I looked up, and prayed that either of two possibilities would happen- 1) One of the peons would come to invigilate or 2) The paper was set by the Maths teacher’s two year old son. (Even then I doubted if I’d pass).

A minute later, a booming voice with a Haryanvi accent shouted “GET IN!” and a crown of people stormed in like someone was distributing free Plasma TVs. My worst fear was now confirmed, the invigilator was Mr Jeetinder, a tough, unmovable Chemistry teacher who was also in-charge of training all NCC Cadets *gulp*. The guy knew me well because I met him during school team practice every evening, but he was not giving me any favours in the exam hall, I was sure.

The room was perfectly silent as he started distributing the papers, and he flashed me a momentary smile of recognition before throwing my question paper on my desk.  I slowly turned the paper around and started browsing from the top. Question 1 to 10 were 1 mark ones, so were pretty easy. 10 marks confirmed, I sighed thankfully and moved on to the next page. THAT is where I almost pooped my pants. Question 11- “Nah”, Question 12- “No way”, Question 13- “is that even in the textbook?” Before I knew it, I ran out of questions. Maths... My downfall, yet again. Why do they have to set such stupid questions huh? Why? “From the figure above with given angles, prove the above figure is a triangle”. Well like duh! The figure has three sides, three angles and it DEFINITELY LOOKS like a triangle. Why should I prove it? WHY?

“Using a suitable identity, prove the following:” Suitable identity you say? What does that even mean? Would my school identity card do?? Huh?! I prayed for somebody to save me, before I got angry enough to swallow the question paper and die of choking. The questions seemed to be getting ridiculous. “Find the value of x”. After you break up, your ex has no value, hence x= 0. 3 Marks for that? Bravo Shamir Reuben... Bravo...

1 and a half hours later, my answer sheet was taken from me. It looked like C.T scan of my skull, it was mostly empty. Mr Jeetinder asked “So much of unused space on your paper? Any specific reason?”

“Yes Sir, I hope to score an extra 5 marks for neatness.”

As I got out of the exam hall, I felt betrayed. I stayed up all night... well, watching a movie. But I wasted 1 hour on studying Social Studies. One HOUR. All that effort down the drain. When the results came out, I leant an important lesson n Maths- Integers. My marks had forced my teacher to teach me the concept of negative numbers.

But life goes on. Since that day, I swear when I have a bad feeling... I puff out my chest and go outside, knowing whatever comes my way would be a test (and an entertaining read for anyone reading about it when I pen it down). Not to mention that I learn something from incidents like this, I ALWAYS write down the timetable now, and I do study maths, for hours... 1/4^th hours ½ hours... Whatever. HOURS is what matters. And I do make it a point to be lazy only on some days... days beginning only with the letter T. Tuesday, Thursday... Thaturday, Thunday, Today, Tomorrow. Can’t help it, inbuilt in my system. But jokes apart, I’m more attentive now. Worse things can always happen, and I swear I have had enough for one lifetime.

Perfecting the Bicycle Kick

Well, the following incident is something that I hold close to my heart, perhaps the only instance where my super laziness has been engulfed and consumed by a rare fire of perseverance. It happened just a few years back, and being a guy just into my teens, a rush of blood was all it took to pump an overdose of adrenaline into a brainless kid like me. A young teen aged guy is attracted to anything that catches the fancy of people around him, I was no different. I racked my brains to think of something that I could do which would atleast force heads to look my way. That was hard to come by as a guy in 10^th, I wasn’t a heart throb like Edward Cullen, and physique wise I looked more like a pregnant Shakira than compared to muscular guys like Bruce Lee or Cristiano Ronaldo. So tough situation, you see? But I was desperate.

Ronaldo: The Perfect Body

So one fine night, I was watching TV (no prizes for guessing what I was watching- Saturday night football). Simultaneously doing the only bit of exercise I ever did back then (when my hand used to stretch for the bowl of popcorn). I saw a Aston Villa player, (Gabriel Agbonlahor I think), perform a perfect bicycle kick. And THERE my mind instantly clicked. 

To people not used to football terminology, a bicycle kick is a special maneuver (also called an overhead kick) where the player does a half somersault and kicks the ball when it is in mid air (usually at a level near the player’s head). It requires a fair amount of flexibility, and an even commendable amount of guts, both which were fairly unknown to me. I was as flexible as an iron rod and except my intestines, nothing inside me came even close to be termed "guts".

I did play football, undoubtedly. But the fact was that I was a goalkeeper, who literally moved as much in one game as my grandmother does in one day. So I wasn't really fit… Oh come on! I can’t even lie when I’m typing! Ok I was fit, replace the “i” with the “a” and bingo, "fat" is the word (Amazing what difference one letter makes). So yeah, all this was daunting for a move generally performed by active players. But I was still determined to give it a good try.

Next morning, I set my alarm for 5:30. Naturally…  I woke up at 7. I grabbed the football lying under the table, put my football shoes and went out to the dining room to fill a bottle of water. BIG mistake. Dad was casually sipping a cup of tea and saw me up at 7 A.M with a FOOTBALL on a SUNDAY MORNING. Instantly he looked at me as if he saw the King of Spain building sand castles on the roadside.

“And WHERE sir are YOU off to?” he inquired.

“Football practice, dad.” (I wanted to rush out, real bad)

“Oh that’s good you got your lazy bum off the bed for a change. Off you go then.”

Whew. Disaster averted. If he’d known I was going to try to do an acrobatic kick, he would have laughed like he inhaled a crate of laughing gas. Both of us knew it took me a few minutes to move my flabby thighs from point A to B, leave alone take a jump of at least 2 feet off the ground (pre-requisite and required for a bicycle kick).  But what the hell? I had nothing to lose.

I reached the football ground, and I was relieved to see no one there. I didn’t want to make a fool of myself in front of hundreds, I’d rather die alone in a mishap and have my body found later. Grabbing the ball in my hand, it was time to start. Problem 1 had arrived. Where to start??

I decided to let fate lead the way, and decided to practice only the jump and the landing first. Keeping the ball aside, I took a deep breath and jumped. Mid-air my worse fears were realized, nothing about my jump was correct. I was barely half a foot off the ground, and the extra fat was NOT gonna make my landing soft. It was slow motion, super slow… and with a crack I landed on my back, the grass anything but comforting. My head had hit the ground like a coconut smashed on the ground by people during religious Hindu ceremonies. I could read the headlines in tomorrow’s papers “Fat teen kid’s bicycle landing creates 2 feet crater in football ground”, “People in Assam experience bomb scare as fat kid shows stupidity” and “6.5 Richter scale earthquakes all over India, source unknown and dangerous”. Damn that hurt.

Second and third tries were no better, try number 5 (first with the ball) took the cake. I threw the ball 2 feet up, and decided to go straight away for the kick. The timing was horrendous, I jumped 2 seconds before the ball reached the head level.  I landed flat on my back, and in pain… my back had almost cracked this time around. I looked up at the sky and noticed 3 things that chilled my spine.

1)      Ball was still in the air.

2)      It was 2 feet from me, right above my crotch.

3)      My legs were spread out in separate directions.

What happened next, I leave to the imagination. If there was ever a moment where I realized I was a fool, I can’t remember any better than this. How I walked back home, I don’t remember, but I did make it alive. 3 days it was before I could muster courage to start again, all the cuts and grass burns were little reminders of my childish foolishness. The next 2 weeks went in practicing hard, and you know what? Slowly, I saw myself getting better, my jumps getting higher, my timing growing immaculate. The injuries kept happening, I almost dislocated a shoulder, battered my elbows to a point where they would bleed a lot, but their extent of damage slowly reduced as I came to know what exactly I was doing wrong.

And then just one day, 2 and a half weeks of bum-cracking later- Voila!(Yup that's me, performing the bicycle kick).

Bicycle kick: All about having a  "ball"

I guess somethings really are worth waiting for. I’m not someone who works super hard with passion, but this was perhaps one of my fondest memories of trying ever so hard to achieve something I really wanted. It took time, and tested every bit of my childish immaturity and impatience, but in the end, everything comes together I guess. That is the power of human dedication, once the mind locks on to something, it goes to any lengths to get it. This is just something I personally went through, I can confidently tell you, I came out a stronger person.