The Darkest Night: Why do I Write?

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I just want you to be happy. . .

I’d be gladder, if you are that with. . .

ME. . .

“Men do not bother Heaven, They never do . . .!” Those are my own words written while creating a cold blooded monster for a work I’m working on, and, I mean them, I do.

Humans are the people whose basic intention to live is not just served by the ‘need of breath’, but there is something other, which they crave for, they desperately search for, and I, name it as, “Happiness.”

People talk of good and bad, wise and unjust, Heaven and Hell. They want to do good deeds, they want to be wise, and finally. . . They want to be “Heaven”. Or simply, they just be wise and good to be in that milky-white, happy-clouded Heaven!!?

OK!! You say you don’t want Heaven or not even a penny in return, and you say that you do everything for “inner-peace” or “satisfaction”? Which is what I say is not indirectly, but directly linked to that “Happiness”. The very thing which “every human” crave for. . .

“And I’m craving, craving. . .

Craving something I can feel.

Where do I go, what do I need. . .

Is it ecstasy or is it real . . .?”

  • James Bay.

If you put the same question James Bay had put himself across, what do you answer to your “soul” . . .? What are “you” craving for? Ah, I don’t have any interest in your answer, I just wanna talk what I wanna talk, and I wanna talk to the one whom I wanna talk. They say this is what “your arrogance” is, yes I agree the next moment they utter the statement, but. . .

“Is this arrogance? Can somebody be arrogant at everyone?”

No. . . . Hm. . . . I can’t. . .

I can’t let this “someone” go as she wanted to. I want to stop and say “It’s okay. It’s okay even if we fight. It’s okay even if we cry. It’s okay even if we die. . .” Of course, I won’t let her die, that’s something different.

If you just leave because you don’t wanna fell sorry for me, just you can’t take our little “cute” fights anymore, and. . . . Ooh, I don’t wanna think of reasons and lift them why you wanna walk away. “I may not matter to you, but you do matter to me.”

“In this concrete jungle – you do know (If you don’t know, then know this now), you are alone without me idiot, and. . . I already am feeling I’m lost without you.”

Hey, what am I talking about actually? This is not the topic right? I started about something Heaven and Hell thing. Ah . . . Why the heck do I drift myself while writing about something? Ooh, on the first hand, “why do I write something?”

I don’t know. . . Just like many other kids (Kids, I say about myself and “you”). I can fell the heavy fall of thoughts getting dumped inside me and. . . . I just couldn’t compose all of them properly in a virtual vision and I’m trying to do that on a paper, and still. . . I’m a failure.

“I’m a failure damn it!!

And. . . .

I know that before this

      God’s Green Earth was ever created. . .”

If men do bother about “Heaven”, if they really do. . . Why do they fear death? Why do they crave to live? Why do “we” cry to die?

There are different reasons people say, “They fear of Hell and their sins,” “because humans actually don’t know what’s in there after life.” In this way, many more. . . But the apt thing I feel is. . .

“They can’t leave their loving ones alone and go somewhere alone, forever.”

Yes. . . That’s the true thing. . .

We do fear what is going to happen to our loving ones in our “absence,” and . . . . What we are going to be, in “their” absence. We may fight, cry, say sorry, feel regret for being with them, feel ashamed, be embarrassed, or . . . hated them at times. Still, we do cry and “fear” to be “alone”, without “them”.

If it is so my “Night”. . . If it is so. . .

“Come, just be with me even if you are facing the brightest of the suns, deadliest of the tides, destructive of the winds or. . . Darkest of the Nights. . .

Cause. Here.

I’m made only for you. . .

You are made. . . Only for me.”

Only for “ME”. . . My Darkest Night.

When I knew what your name truly meant, haha . . . You don’t know what I had felt. “I’m a guy who work in darkness. . . I’m glad, I’m going to work with it. . .”

For “ME”

Smile Please . . .!

BEST FRIEND

BEST FRIEND

Glad to be back after eight long months. . . . .!

Wicky

Hmm. . . My Grandpa Died: I didn’t cry.

Grand Pa

June 14th, 2012.

It’s the day my Grand pa’s dream fulfilled. He always wanted to have an own house in his Village. After great hard-ships, several combats, we’ve succeeded to fulfil his dream. That day is the happiest, important and the last day of his life.

“Nagabushana Nilayam” (House of Nagabushan) Our uncle read the Name carved on the building.

“Yes, that is my name,” said my Grand Pa, his voice weak and shivering, but ecstasy flowing through it. Today his voice is much more trembling. He is looking again and again towards His building, His dream.

For a middle-class family like us, those are very big dreams. We are people who just live on dreams and fights to get them true with as less trouble as possible. We (they) don’t have courage at least to think about their family falling into some trouble.

“At last you’ve made your fathers dream true.” One of my father’s friends said to my dad, and I was just standing beside him.

I expected pride in my father’s face, but no, no trace of pride was found. My father, with a weak smile turned towards his father, my grand pa. My father’s eyes were filled with moist, if you call them happy-tears, then that works. He was happy for his dad, and he just was happy for himself for getting succeeded in getting his father’s dream true. “A duty, which must be done by a genuine son,” So, there was no trace of pride in his eyes.

My Grand Pa, with his weak walk and breath, was walking and rushing all over, to all his family members, family friends, and friends of his old Village. He was some kind of ‘Unstoppable’.

He already was suffering from an Artery failure and was already twice stricken by major heart-attack. Doctors say; it is a miracle for some weak guy like him, surviving seven years after two major Heart-attacks.

“Babai (dad), cool down. Don’t rush. They all will be here all the night and tomorrow morning too. Don’t strain yourself dad.” My dad and my dad’s sister kept on warning him, how-ever, he denied their request. Yes, that is his house, his dream, his breath of course, how and why the fuck must he get his excitement down? But, it would be good, if it got down.

He wore a gleaming White Shirt and White dhoti and kept a mark of Vibhuti (Sacred Ash) on his forehead. He gathered all his old friends and his-aged family members, and started explaining how this house is important for him and his-father and to his next generation. Every time when I saw him smiling wide with glittering eyes, it made me tearful. “Grand pa, I love you.” I said this a thousand times in my heart. As if he heard my heart, he nodded at me every single time when I said these.

The night fell and we all were set up for a sleep. There is a tradition that they must not sleep in the warmed house for the first-night in there. So we kids arranged ourselves on the terrace of the house,, elders and the others divided themselves in different friends’ houses, and my Grand Pa planned to sleep in the house which is just beside ‘His-House’.

As it is a Village, ones’ house is everyone’s house! I swear you will love that environment. I can also swear, if you show up there, not even knowing who you are, they will feed your mouth by their own hands, showing the love which you can never imagine or find between these concrete jungles!

The last time when I saw my Grand Pa before sleeping is from the roof, he still was revelling his already-hundred-times-said-stories with the same weak breath and weak gestures, but he was exhibiting a furious energy. But his friends never complain; they will sit before him listening them for the hundredth one time! True friend’s yaa!

“Grand Pa became a child this day,” my sister, Usha said to me. She was one disciple of my Grand Pa for whom she can die too. Even Lord Hanuman cannot respect Lord Ram in such a way!

“Yes, he is. . .”

“What happened, say me I can take It.” asked my aunt, sister of my dad.

“No, nothing, just we admitted him in the hospital,” said Surayya Grand Pa. This old man, is the one who can be decorated by the ‘Gunnies Book of World Record’ for lifting innumerable dead bodies of his friends and family members. Just as Sachin Tendulkar sticks to one end of the crease and on the other end collapses all the team wickets, he stuck but all the friends and family members were leaving in peace. Still, he is a strong man, till the date. His breath too neither trembles nor shivers.

“Tell us Surayya, we can take it,” insisted my Grand Ma, who already was sobbing continuously.

He did not change his word, “Kamala (my Grand Ma), why will I lie about him at you? He is fine.”

It is mid night, we were suddenly awakened and said that my Grand Pa was suffocating and was taken to our town’s hospital by my mom, dad and other uncles, and we (me, Usha, aunt and my Grand Ma) too started to them. Surayya already went with my dad and mom, and he returned to take us to them.

Everything in the car was silent, except the tears flowing down my aunt’s and Grand Ma faces. I and my sister were in confusion, not trying to make any conclusions.

Everything was eerie, as if our home was conjured by an evil-super natural power.

The car was not going towards the hospital; it was going towards our home in our town.

“If he is in the hospital, why are we going to our home?” my aunt screamed, tears with fear flowing down her face. “Why Surayya, why are going to home, why are we not going to the hospital?”

Suddenly, Usha too broke out crying in confusion, making stupid conclusion in her mind. Grand Ma cry reached its peaks, she was sobbing. My breath was rising, gaining speed, and body was getting cold, and even eyes were getting dizzy.

“You are frightening the kids,” he shouted. “Nothing happened.”

“Then why are we. . .?” before my aunty could complete the statement, he motioned to be silent. Her words were dead in her mouth itself.

We were at the street’s end, and the house was crowded by people in white shirts, and everything was silent; silent as the darkest night itself.

Suddenly a huge cry, “Babai, don’t leave me, I will die as a lone. . .”

It is my dad! His cries were audible till the street end. My Grand Pa died! He died! Real, hm. . . . Really died!

Cries rose in our car, all the three ladies were crying to death. It is a death shock to us! A death giving shock!

Car stopped before the home and dad ran towards Usha furiously, “Usha, your Grand Pa died,” he screamed holding her. “He died leaving us alone. Leaving us. . .”

She broke into tears. Everyone ran into the house, falling and crying before the dead-Grand Pa, but me, I stood outside, I stood outside and did not cry.

Everyone was holding one another and was crying, but no one came to me. Then came my uncle, a man who often influences my thoughts and deeds. He held my shoulder tight and looked into my eyes. I know; my eyes were blank and as empty as a never-ending-pit.

Holding his hand tight, I stood with him all the night.

Till today, I did not cry for him. I don’t know why I didn’t cry that day, but I know why I didn’t cry till this day. . . May be because, I didn’t miss him. He always is here, I feel truly. He always is here appreciating my work, appreciating my good-sense, appreciating my travel on His pure and smiley Guidelines!

Bone Voyage Grand Pa!

Hmm. . . Exactly after two-years-seven-days, my Grand Ma too died!