The Rendezvous

Certain things ought to be impulsive in life. Certain journeys ought to be taken impulsively. Certain phone calls should be made at an instant from the heart. Certain words ought to be said impulsively. Certain moments ought to be lived impulsively. Otherwise friend, where is the fun!! Huh!!

The journey
-----------

Many a times I have regretted certain decisions I have made in life. In fact I think my love life has been a comedy of errors. I have always been a ‘One-woman’ man...every 2 years since I was 21. I have had a spate of breakups. Well, sometimes she wasn’t good enough and most of the times I wasn’t. Every time it happened, it took me a while to recuperate. Some girls showed promise; some just flirted away to glory while I got carried away, while some just wanted to move on because they got bored. Well I warned them. And yet after every breakup, the one relationship I can never forget was when I was in school. Well, trust me, it was the purest of them all. Now it gets more mushier.

I cannot forget those feelings. We hardly spoke and yet we did. We chatted on the phone and yet could never muster courage to have a 5 minutes conversation face-to-face. Shyness I guess. They were conversations of loud heartbeats and mumbling voices. Tara was her name. I was in my 11th. We were studying in State school inside the Tata Campus in Jamshedpur. She lived there. Her father was a professor there. My father was a central govt. employee then and we were on the run always. I cannot forget the last day in the school. We were moving away to Trivandrum, my hometown. I managed to tell her that I liked her a lot. She did too. The smile on her face, I cannot forget. Well she promised to write and so did I.

We moved and she wrote. I never did. I got engrossed in my life. I never wrote back and then she faded away from my memories. A guy who was just learning to shave had learnt it was time to move on. I called her on her birthday and told her it would be my last call.

After a long time again, Jamshedpur summons. A client meet and a hidden desire. I decided to give Tara a call. I had known her number all these years and yet I could never call. I called her. The phone rang twice.

‘Hello’, said a faintly familiar voice

‘Tara, its me. Vinay. How are you?’

A long pause and an eerie silence. It was as if she was waiting for my call all these years.

‘Hi Vinay. How have you been?’

‘Good. I am working in Calcutta with TCS. What about you?’

‘Well. I am working in the state school. I teach English’

I was excited to hear that. But I did not know what to say.

‘Thats great’.

‘So how come, a call after years?’

‘Well I am sorry for not calling. In fact, I am sorry for many things. I was coming to Jamshedpur this weekend, so i thought I could meet you.

‘Hmm. Well let me see. I have some plans but I can surely take some time out. Give me a call before you leave’.

Memories Galore
----------------

She was waiting for me near the cafe coffee day near the Tata foundation hospital. She looked stunning and had changed a lot. Her hair and she was so skinny then.

A warm handshake and we were off chatting. I knew though at some point I had to tell her why I wanted to meet her.

‘Tara, I had your number all these years. I somehow could not muster courage to call you. I had broken your heart and you liked me so much. You kept it going whereas I just gave up. I have been in many relationships and today I am single and yet I have this tingling pain which keeps resurfacing. The pain of breaking your heart. I am here to say sorry for everything. We were kids and yet that something between us was the most beautiful I have ever felt. I am sorry.’

Wow!! That was right out of bollywood. She looked at me and smiled. I just hoped that she would not laugh it was because it was kiddish in a way.

‘I forgive you’, she said. ‘I say that because I was hurt and that too for many years and I got over it. But hey!! No hard feelings any more. Honestly, I was looking for a guy with moustache. I never expected you’, she said laughing out loud.

‘You have changed too, you look beautiful. You single??’ ,I asked pinching myself hard after that. What an idiot I was. Somehow hoping though that she would be.

‘Well, I am engaged. My marriage is slated to happen next month’, she said.

I was a little taken aback. I was a little disappointed too. I wasn’t expecting it.

‘Oh! thats great. Congratulations!!!’

‘Thanks’.

‘Should I show you around the school? Interested?’, she asked.

‘Yep’.

We took a long walk. Somehow we pretty easily discussed the places where we had sat and spoken. The basketball court where I would deliberately sit close, to where she would sit with her friend, to eat. The bus stop, where I would always say bye to her before leaving for home. The arts class, where I would sing aloud so that she could hear and smile. The Labs where I tried my best to team up with her but never got a chance.

I remember the roads where one fine day I managed to walk back with her on a rainy day. I missed it all. The innocence.

Well, it was time to leave and I said goodbye knowing well that I would never meet her again. The heart did feel heavy for a while. I had done what I had come to do. Somehow though, I felt a lot more lonelier than ever. Probably it was a mix of Tara and the nostalgia of school days.

I sat for a while at the bus stop after she left. I looked around. The sun was setting and the smell of the Ashoka trees rose. Something had not changed. I smiled and realised that it was good that I had come here.

Certain things ought to be impulsive in life. Certain journeys ought to be taken impulsively. Certain phone calls should be made at an instant from the heart. Certain words ought to be said impulsively. Certain moments ought to be lived impulsively. Otherwise friend, where is the fun!! Huh!!

V.V.Vikram

The Hangman from Tibbar

Dedicated to all the extraordinary and weird professions in the world.


The Hangman From Tibbar

---------------------------------------

I walk back home everyday. Over the years I have taken a liking to the narrow muddy road that takes me back home. In fact, given a choice I would just walk the rest of my life. Just me and the road to ourselves. The condition of the roads in Gurdaspur has improved over the years. Yet, this road has remained the same over years. Covered with trees, the walk on this one during monsoons is a sheer delight for a loner like me. By the way, my name is Chander Singh and I work as the Hangman in Gurdaspur Jail.

FLASHBACK

---------

As a 3 year old, I remember my father taking me to the Jail at times. He worked there. I was intrigued and thrilled whenever I went there. A massive structure, the Jail gave me an eerie feeling. I would immediately dream of dark dungeons, princes, swords and the villains of course. I always wanted to go in but my dad never took me in. I would sit with the two scary Guards outside. I always wondered what my dad did in the jail. My dad was a six footer. He had a typical villainous look that would scare the hell out of kids during nights when he got back home. With a large dark mole on his cheek, he was a monster. I pitied the convicts.

As a youngster I remember, noone would come to my house. Moms would warn their kids not to play with me. The colony never acknowledged our presence. It was as if I was living in a dead society bustling with people. My father was a quiet person. He would come back home, call for my mother to lay out the food. He would eat, kiss me goodnight on the forehead and promptly sleep.

I had no friends. None at all. In fact, after a while in my life I realised that I had stopped yearning for them. I got used to things this way I guess. It was a normal day and I got back from school when I saw a huge crowd gathered in front of my house. I saw the all the ladies sitting together and weeping. There was a murmur amongst the men standing to one side. As I went in, I saw the corpses of my father and mother. Both covered in a white cloth, the one my mom used to lay the food upon. I did not cry. I was shocked and lost. I was told that the house had been robbed and that the robbers killed both my parents. It was the first time in years that I had spoken so much. People came upto me and consoled me. Some I knew but most I did not.

After a month or so, I was paid a visit by the Jailer of Gurdaspur. He offered me the post of my dad and said I could join whenever I was interested.

THE JAIL AND HOME

-----------------

It was not as scary as I thought it would be. Of course, I was just a kid then. But the eeriness was still there. The walls were built of Huge dark stones which added to the spookiness. As I entered the jailer's room, I saw a couple of convicts being handcuffed and taken away. They looked at me as if they were ready to commit another crime.

"So Chander, ready to step into your father's shoes?"

"Honestly sir, I want to thank you from my heart first but also I shall confess that I have no idea what my father did in the jail. What did he do?"

"Ahem. Well, let me put it bluntly. Your father was a hangman. He helped executing convicts. He put them to death."

For a moment, my world turned upside down. I was shocked, aghast and disturbed. So many things came to my mind. My father's behaviour which I now undertood. His reluctance and apprehensions.

"You okay son?", asked the jailer.

"Sir, I think I shall return and let you know"

The walk back home on the muddy path was a mammoth task. With so much running through my mind, I cared the least for the puddles that had formed. By the time, I reached home I had soiled my pants. I just sat in a corner and wondered what to do.

'JALLAD'

--------

It had been three years since I had been a hangman. I had killed many with these very hands. They wept, they pleaded even though they were guilty and yet I had no choice but to do what I had to. I had become insane. I had the license to kill they said and laughed, the guards in the jail. Every journey back home was a journey of guilt. The pangs of conscience were unbearable. Noone would talk to me in the colony. Things had come back to square one, the day I had said yes to the jailer. Kids called me the boogey-man. Some called me 'Jallad' and some called me the 'Ruthless Murderer of Tibbar'. Tibbar was the place where the jail was located. Girls shyed away from me. But I did not stop, I kept killing them.

'The Terrorist of Kupwara'

-------------------------

Tibbar was on the border of India and Pakistan and many convicts brought to the Gurdaspur Jail were captured terrorists. Many notorios and many not so notorious. They were beaten everyday. Some were beaten to death. As a hangman, I know for a fact that all the executions I have done have not been legal.Some are killed and reported to media as died due to stress. Some are beaten to death and then hanged and later the bodies thrown back into their cells. They are the suicide cases by the way.

A young terrorist was beaten the same way. A young boy forced into becoming a terrorist. He was beaten to death almost. He did not reveal any information about his terrorist ring because he actually did not know anything. He would cry at nights and the wailing would be heard across cells. One fine day, I was summoned by the jailer. He told me that they had planned the execution of the Kupwara terrorist and it would happen at 12.30 am midnight. I never questioned him. At 9.30 pm I went this cell. I heard a brawl. They had stripped him naked and were battering him with a fat stick. He was bleeding and I knew would soon collapse.

After finishing their merciless assault, the guards left, leaving the almost-dying terrorist. I helped him take a bath and helped him change his clothes. I whispered into his years about the midnight plan. He stated weeping with whatever energy he had. He held my feet and shouted that he was innocent. For once I found my heart melting and I think I my eyes did become wet for a second.

At around 12.15, he came into the courtyard with the jailer and two cards. I covered his head with the black hood. He was crying and shouting loud that he wanted to see his mom and younger sister one last time. It was then for a second that I realized that I was the Satan from hell without doubt. I pulled the lever and down he went.

Nemesis

-------

Thats my story. Nothing much at all. I am an ordinary man in an extraordinary profession. By the way, only yesterday I got to know that I am suffering from Tuberculosis and I am in my last stages of life. Its been 20 years as a hangman. I have killed many and now its come around for me. My jail mates tell me that no hangman has died a normal death. I went to the jailer yesterday and told him that I had a wish. I told him that I wanted to be hanged as well. He smiled and said that all Hangmen of Tibbar had asked for the same till date. He said it was guilt.

V.V.Vikram

SHAME

This story is a fictional piece entirely and is not written with any intentions to hurt anyone's sentiments. The message is simple...anger and hatred kills. People in the process of venting anger and hatred do not realise that the same could change the life of the victim drastically. It could inflict him with wounds that would remain unhealed for life.


SHAME

I

--

"Keep your mouth shut and if I get to know that you are trying to mess around, we will cut you into pieces and hang your circumcised phallus right in front of your house. Understand, you mother fucking bastard? Your clan is a bunch of unchaste pigs"

Manu, the local leader in Aligarh was listening to the profanities and was quite embarrassed. Abdul, the boy being yelled at was after all a 10 year old kid. He had seen too much though, there wasn’t an iota of doubt in that. Yet, surprisingly, he found it cruel. Guruji was trying to scare this kid who was probably himself shaken up by what he had witnessed.

"Take this son of a bitch away and keep an eye on him. Manu, meet me after you deal with this kid", he said in a loud voice just to scare the little one a wee bit more.

Manu held Abdul's hand tightly and took him out. He somehow did not want to be harsh but he knew their clan too well. They were not what they seemed. Yet this guy was just a kid and Manu could see both fear and helplessness in Abdul's eyes."You say a word boy and you die. Understand? Do not tell your friends or they die too." He handed him to the other guys and told them to take him home.

Abdul had the address written on a piece of paper which had become soggy from sweat. He was scared. He could not understand what was happening. It was just morning then and now the night had set in. What would he say to his uncle and aunt as to where he was all the while and they would be worried more so knowing what had happened to the train he had arrived in. The whole of Aligarh had been shaken up and he knew what had happened.

II

--

Manu was tired and exhausted. He had returned home after 16 hours. He had sneaked out of the house in the morning while his mom was asleep. It had been a big day for him or probably the biggest. He had won the trust of his Guruji. Guruji was the leader of the Hindu sabha in Aligarh and was one of the most respected leaders in India. He was also the mentor for the Chief Minister of the UP who was representing a party dedicated to Hindu Ideologies and ways of life. The party had faced criticism for this but the vote bank was dependent on them, the ideologies. The elections were scheduled for the next month and with dwindling popularity and anti-incumbency, Guruji was summoned by the CM.

The plan was to turn Aligarh upside down. A day that would change the lives of many. Manu had led from the front. Guruji gave him the responsibility to carry out the task and he did so with ease. Except that Abdul remained.

III

----

Abdul had eaten and was too tired to even think and yet he could not sleep. His aunty cried when she saw him. He did not utter a word and just told them that he had lost the address somewhere in the train. He wondered if he would ever be able to forget what he saw. Suddenly he felt older. He was 10 years old and yet what he saw and what he experienced was rarely what a 10 year old would see or feel.

The one face he could never forget was that of the 65 year old woman who was going home the first time after her grandson was born. She told Abdul that he had been christened "Vikas" after her late husband. He also remembered her face when she was stabbed twice and then pushed into her lower side berth seat in the train.

He remembered the old man who was coming from a village all the way to get treatment for leukemia. He was giving a last shot at life. They chopped off his fingers and legs and then stabbed him right through his heart.

And the little one he was playing with. They were a little more graceful with her. They put a hand tight on her mouth and did not let her breathe. She died in seconds.

Why did they spare him? Everyone except for him was killed on that train by the hooligans. He remembered when one of them raised his sword on him.

Manu shouted," Leave that one. It will go against the plan. Only murder the Hindus. Let this mother fucker be spared. Anyways we will kill them in hordes after tomorrow. Let’s take him away with us quietly. Let Guruji deal with him"

Abdul wondered what plan he was talking about???

IV

----

Manu still hadn’t slept. He had joined the Sabha, 5 years back as worker and today he was the leader in Aligarh. Over years he learnt about Hindutva and had developed a certain hatred toward the Green clan. He realised that Hindus were too docile and patient and the Muslims had taken advantage of it all the

while. Terrorists they were, no doubts.

The plan had gone off well. They had killed all the Hindus in the train. Now, it would only be a matter of hours when the anti-muslim sentiment would spring up and lead to the much desired riots. The CM had promised that he would keep the police forces in the state at bay when it happened. The Muslims would be butchered and the votes will go to the government. Guruji had a way to think out of the box.

V

--

The riots broke out early in the morning. It was the news flash about 8 muslim goons butchering all the hindus in a train bogie at Aligarh, that made Abdul go into a shock. He realised what had happened and why he had been spared. He knew the truth and yet he knew the consequences.

The riots lasted a week. Abdul, his uncle and aunt hid inside their room with little food and water. They would be woken up by loud door banging during midnights. Stones would be pelted and fire sticks would be thrown in. Abdul could hear women screaming, men being tortured to death. Processions were led out where all muslims where forced to go around their colonies naked shouting "hare ram, hare krishna".

The muslims too killed many Hindus. The same was done with their women and children. Abdul was aghast at what was happening. He had come to spend the summer and what he was witnessing everyday was changing his life.

2 months later....

------------------

Abdul returned to his village. He had still not told anyone what he saw on that dreadful day. He had become more silent and calm. There were nights when he would wake up with a jerk, drenched in sweat. He would question the sanity of people and the heights to which they could stoop to be in power.

The only part that he felt good about was that he had not developed a hatred for any clan because of the entire episode. Both the clans had been affected. He also thought about how some incidents change you for life and make you a little more mature.

-V.V.VIKRAM

Fly Away

Written with the thought that we today seldom care about others values and feelings and live in our own world. When time passes we realise they were important, but they are gone.

Make others feel important in life. It gives immense pleasure to see them smile.



Fly Away
----------


Gone with the wind have I somewhere,
I flutter like that thin feather,
Restless yet agile, I wander everywhere,
I will burn like a rock when I hit the land.


Will you lift me then, will you?
Or will you abandon me to myself,
I will fly away again into the skies,
Waiting for that someone to reedem himself.

Do not call me then, as this gust breathes life,
I will then only listen to the Wind gods,
I shall be blown away forever to lands unknown,
Do not call me then, as freedom would encapsulate me.

I shall then listen to noone,
And then you shall look for me,
Alas! I would be not seen anywhere,
Why did thou not look for me when I was there?

Now I would mean more to them,
In the city of windmills, where there is love,
You loved Thyself so much, you let go off me,
Now I shall be loved forever,
Do not call me now as the gust breathes life

V.V.Vikram

The Paradox called Love

There is a famous couplet of Ghalib which I adore:

Mohabbat mein nahi hai fark jeene aur marne ka,
Usi ko dekh kar jeete hain, jis kaafir pe dum nikle

It means that in love there is no difference between life and death because the person you yearn to live with is the same person you can die for.

There cannot be a bigger paradox than love. These lines in honour of that very paradox.


How does one tell as to why he feels lonely?
The one who was yours once is now someone else's,
If this is what the world is about, why is it so?
If this is the way things happen, why are they so?

Once you extended your arms and i reached out to them,
In your heart then resided my heartbeat,
If such was the proximity then why is there a distance today?

Noone has ever come out of a heartbreak,
And yet we knock the door of love again,
Why does he up there rekindle hopes when it hurts and it pains?

Whether you call it a relation of hope or that of sadness,
This relation of love is something we are born with,
When the relation is so rooted, then how come it breaks?

V.V.Vikram

CATHARSIS

Another attempt....

It’s been over a month now, but the grief has not gone. It lingers around like a small fly that tries to find ways to get back its most coveted sweet-meat. I come back from work and quickly pass by that tiny room which was planned with love and anticipation.

I called for her twice. It had become a habit, this. She would ridicule me for calling her name unconsciously so many times. I loved that infectious smile. I was missing it these days, terribly. I kept my laptop bag at the corner of my bed and walked towards the balcony. It was the balcony really that made us buy the house. We lived on the 16th floor and to be honest the world could not have been more picturesque from that balcony. We had spent almost a day and roamed around like nomads searching for that perfect swing for the balcony. We just sat there at nights talking about us and the people around. At times we just stared far away into spaces searching for images and struck unrealistic conversations, which were at times imbecile. At times we just caressed each other and ended up making love.

She sat there. Her lugs curled up and her hands folded around her legs. She was absolutely static, only to move once to fiddle with her hair and push it back behind her ears. She had not observed me nor did she sense me. I had been observing her for five minutes now. I could not even imagine what she might have been feeling all this while.

I went across and stood in front of her. I put my warm hands on her cheeks. My huge palm covering her entire cheek. She always loved it. This time though, just a wry smile acknowledging my presence.

"Did you eat?", she asked.

"Had a sandwich on my way back. I am pretty full. What about you Anjali? Please do not do this to yourself. You look famished." Such an oddity that. In the past few months she had always been eating that much extra to keep herself fit and fine.

"I am fine. Just not hungry. How was your day?"

"Hectic as usual. Calls and meetings galore. I may have to go to London next month. I want you to come along." Half way, I knew she had already turned a deaf ear. Lost again in her world, she was staring away at the sky, orange in colour, covered with grey clouds. It was as if the clouds were trying their best to cover up the mess made by the sun. The clouds moving about in all directions to cover up the patches of the orange sky.

As I stared deeper, I remembered the day when he had to leave for the conference to Los Angeles. It was my boss who had to go. He fell sick the last moment and I had to replace him as the company could not afford to lose the client. I still remember that morning when a blue taxi pulled in to pick me up. It was the last time I had seen her pregnant. I did not want to leave her. She waved and then immediately kept her hand on the womb as if telling the little one inside to wave as well.

The moment I landed I got a page saying things had gone wrong. I apologized to my boss and rushed back. It was the most awful journey of my life. I sobbed uncontrollably like a child.

She was just lying to a side. Her eyes said it all. She looked at me and cried hysterically and apologised. I just hugged her tightly grieving the loss. I felt sad for her. How much we had planned it. We had wanted it badly and quickly too. The doctors said that she had a weak uterus. The worst was yet to come. They warned that a pregnancy again would endanger both hers and the baby's life.

As I stood there, my hands still on her cheeks, I felt my thumb getting wet. She could not be consoled. I had tried it many a times but she was inconsolable. I kissed her forehead and and then kissed her cheeks. We had stayed away from each other all these days. She started sobbing uncontrollably now. I took her in my arms and hugged her tightly.

"I am sorry Siddharth. I know how much you wanted it. I failed you. I am sorry."

At that very moment, my eyes just welled up. I hugged her even tightly. I suddenly realised that I loved her so much. That one moment, I felt like a young lover who was willing to go against the world for his love.

"Anjali, lets adopt". It was something both of us had thought of but this was the moment that really made me feel that it was the right thing for her, for myself and for our future. She came out of the embrace and looked at me in the eyes. Her baby-like face all swollen up. She gave me a small peck on my lips, smiled and embraced me again.

We went back to the dining room. We had a low-lying table and we always ate sitting on the low lying cushions. The low hanging lamp giving enough light for us to come back to normal. We spoke, we laughed and went back to the balcony. I sat on the swing and she sat on my lap.

"Now that we are adopting, should we have a girl or a boy?", just hoping that she would say 'Girl'.

"We will call her Riya", she said. I smiled at her.

We caressed each other and under the clouded skies of Delhi, we made love.

When God Called....

Another attempt at writing a short story....

WHEN GOD CALLED
---------------



I was in a deep slumber, when my phone rang. It was 2.30 am and for that one moment I wished I had Iron hands which could just crush the phone into frickin pieces. I woke up stunned and looked at the ringing screen. The name that flashed was a little shocking, it said 'GOD Calling'. But because i wasnt in proper senses, i decided not to think and pick up the phone. Yet in a span of some three seconds before I picked up and said a Hello, I realised that the only name that came close was 'Lord', my Tamilian Friend Aravaind's nickname which was stored.

After a groggy and agitated 'Hello' I asked, "who is this"?

"I am god, my son", said the queer voiced person.

"So am I", I said jokingly, trying not to sound rude and also parallely getting into my database and doing a look up on all the voices my mind could recognise. The response came back in .00000000000000000000009 seconds. No results found.

"I have no clue who this is. So who is it?", the inquisitiveness meter now rising a little from zero towards 0.5.

"I am who I told you I am. The sole bearer of all in this universe. I am God himself"

What crap I thought. The mind is an amazing machine. In fact it is phenomenal. Zillion thoughts running parallely. I was visualising the start of the T.V. epic Mahabharat where a baritonic voice saying "Main...Something...hoon". Chetan Bhagat's book came to my mind. I visualised plush "heavenly" meadows. Anyways I came back to senses and decided to get to business.

"Dood I am sleepy, no patience or mind to guess or figure out, please tell me who it is", I tried putting it across very softly.

"Okay, my son I know you would not believe me but I am God and this is real".

For the first time in my life I actually pinched myself just to check that I was not dreaming. I still knew it was a prank.

Like a small kid, I asked for evidence, rather a sign that verified his authenticity.

"What about levitating you?? Would you mind if I took you off your bed??"

Uh-oh!!, what if this was for real. I looked at my roomies and they slept like they had'nt heard a thing.

"Well okay, I am not scared and all", I said a little disbelievingly and a little shaken up.

And then the unimaginable thing happened. I slowly rose like Emily Rose. And then this thought that what if her name was Emily Slept, would she have risen??

Anyways, I was above everyone now. I did not even feel anything (like chords and strings). Luckily enough i came down before my mind zonked out of nervousness.

I quickly spoke into the mouthpiece. "Okay I believe you Mr. God, but why are you here and why me?"

"Look son, off late there are too many things happening. There are these usual devotees of mine who keep praying to me, then there these irregular ones who pray to me as per convenience and now in these recessional times, their numbers have increased. I am overloaded with work. I work 24*7 these days. So i needed to share my problems with someone."

That was a weird explanation I thought to my question. It sounded more like a ten liner stolen from Bruce Almighty.

" I have a question though", I asked. "How do you decide on whose problems to solve first, now that i know you exist, how do you do it? Is ther like an algorithm or a queuing systen based on certain categories and is there a priority handling system? How do you multitask with zillions of threads running parallely?"

"So many questions and that too complicated ones. Well, there are many people to share my burden. At the moment, Jesus is handling the USA and LATAM. Allah handles the EMEA region and I along with Krishna and Nanak and Buddha handle APAC because it is highly populated. We keep switching roles".

"That is a lot of work", I said. "Less people, downsizing up there also huh??", I smirked.

"Well, we have put a few people on sabbatical. Jesus has been threatening to leave us for a while because he has been handling a geography with the highest lay-offs and he has not slept for months now. I am worried about him."


It had been 5 minutes into the conversation. I was feeling so many things at the same time but then I thought not to think too much into it as I got this feeling that early morning I would not be remembering a thing (Hoping that this guy would surely use the memory erasing torch like the one in MIB).

"So why me?", I asked

" Well, no specifics here. You are a nice person. Even though you are one of those who pray to me diligently as per convenience, I like the fact that you still say your bed time prayes and sleep at 25. Also, the fact that as long as you were in a relationship, you always prayed for her well being as well. I found it..arrgh..what is that word you people use..ahem..cute...yes I found it cute"

Now I was a little embarassed. Okay I did say my prayers still. But why cute?? That was a girly thing to say. I wondered why he said that.

"Okay, but there are many like me I am sure, so why me?"

"Why do you think so much you bloke? Just be happy that it is you.", he sounded irritated now. "The problem with you is that you think helluva lot. Be cool."

"Hey, by the way, Thanks a ton for getting me the job opportunity. I was quite not myself when I was jobless", I said thankingly.

"That is okay. But be focussed. Do not lose it. You have the potential but you have too many other things on mind". he said with wry smile that I could sense.

"Yep, I know. Do you think I am getting too desperate about this singledom??", I asked.

"You are doing fine. Its just that you think about it too much. Also, the fact that there seems to be this dilemna about arranged marriage that you have and of course your parents."

"Yep, I think so too. Hey, tell me will I get a nice girl? You know what kind I want right?",I asked, somehow sounding like an MCP.

"Yeah, yeah. Just wait and watch"

"So what about you, do you guys marry and all. I mean are you allowed to date?", I asked sarcastically.

"Well, they all come back here dont they son. So, I flirt around too a bit. But then honestly, there is not much time that I have. The IT infrastructrure gets a little slow here at times. So slow processors bundled with loads of work, makes dating a difficult task."

" It just occurred to me. Do you do this often with may people??", I asked a little inquisitively.

"Well you would be surprised but you are the first one. The lucky one I should say.By the way I really liked your work on Polaris Day. Good job. You are a very good guy, but I still have a suggestion. Try not to become a man of success, rather be a man of value. So do not strive to impress others and make an impact. Impress yourself and eventually things will fall in place."

Some gyaan. But essential one at that I thought knowing myself.

"I have this huge doubt", i said. "Is it true that everything is pre-written and stuff and that all has been decided beforehand??", I asked.

"Well that is a tricky question. It is not true. My existence is a truth. Yet, I never appear because I want life to be a journey unknown to people so that they enjoy it. I have the powers to set things straight yet I never use them as I want you all to sort things out for yourselves. Yes there are times when truth and righteousness prevail, that is when i come in but even then it is Karma in action and hey Karma is not a bitch by the way. She is the bitch and the angel. Sadly enough, because people tend to remember all the bad things always thats happened to them, she remains a bitch."

"Okay, and what about my chances of being a writer?? Would I be able to complete my book?", the best question I had asked, yet i knew what was coming, the way he was answering questions.

"Well, you need to keep writing for that. To be honest, you are not confident about that yourself. The day you really think you are ready to write a book, noone can stop you. Not even me. I think it is quite late now. I have to get back to my shift. You sleep well. Catching a bus at 7.15 aint easy kiddo"

"Yeah, it was nice meeting you though. There is so much to ask and talk about. Hey, just one last question. Do you drink??", I asked.

"Haha. Yes we all do. I love Old monk and its sad you do not get any in Chennai."

Before I could say something, the call ended. Th next morning, surprisingly I remembered everything and I looked at my roomies still sleeping. Would anyone believe me if i told them? Why should I, after all I was the special one.

-Vikram