Abandoned.

She was born to a dead mother of one, and in a family once of four.

The skies rejoiced and it poured cats and dogs. Perhaps, the sign was brutally misread and she was chucked away. To a dustbin. For a rag picker.

She groaned all night and tears bubbled into hiccups. But Delhi was too deaf to pay head, inside the air-conditioned rooms of a typical humid June night. A few dogs sniffed but none bit. Humanity is not necessarily to be found in Humans, right?

She was supposed to die and ‘rest in peace’ (quite literally) but the sins committed in the last few births were too grave to be easily forgiven. Breathing shivered and jerked but did not stop.

Sun grew the next morning. From the usual East.
The rag picker was on duty. Earlier than usual.

The guy who managed crossing the ‘highly-under-surveillance’ border between India and Bangladesh was indeed bad at deeds but not at heart. His eyes swelled and some salty water trickled. Chills ran down his spine. Not everyone can bear the sight of an almost dead baby girl.

The decision was instantly taken and never altered. The girl now had a home.
The man who could not afford his bread would now breed an abandoned baby. A baby girl.
Savings were drained and loans taken but all medications timely met and necessities provided.

~~~

Mannat was an extremely brilliant child. ‘Child prodigy’ as the well-read quoted.
The dusky, brown-eyed was sent to a usual inferior Government school due to the obvious. Yes, she did bunk school at times faking a paining tummy; would also get after her Abbu’s life to take her along to the posh colonies where he went rag-picking but Abbu would never fulfil the desire.
Her princess would get all what she wants, sooner or later, but not THIS, Abbu used to assure himself.

Suns kept setting and bright mornings occurring, but never was a morning this bright.
Mannat was transferred to a Convent school on insistence of her teacher –who quite literally- envied the genius.

It did not take her innocent eyes to switch between questions like ‘How did I come to this world’ and ‘Abbu, will I succeed in becoming a Physicist?’’

The former questions were neatly ignored and the latter, crisply answered.

~~~



Present Day:

Mannat Khan did change her name from Mannat to Physicist Mannat Khan, and did earn enough to gift her 72 year old still-working-Abbu a mansion.
The girl, did kiss the sky.

Perhaps, far away an angry father whipped his lazy, jobless son for not being like the noble prize winner, Physicist Mannat Khan.

He cursed his stars for not blessing him with a child like Mannat.
The stars cursed back for abandoning the same a few years ago.

Breathe 'Life goes on' and survive.

Manas, 22. My brother.
My best friend, my most brutal enemy, my entertainer, my comedian, my happiness, my sadness, my evil possessive brother, my over-protective jerk, MINE.
It’s been three years now. Three long years now.

Let me begin by telling a few things about the monster.
He was the one who stood by me since I was brought to the world. Changing my diapers, cleaning my waste and feeding me milk. He is not me. A totally different person. He loves violence. He hates pink. He loves Biology. He works real hard. He is a total bore would never manage lighting up any one’s mood. He’d make me love him, even when he was all so annoying. He’d always be willing to help me out. He’d always fight with me, and get emotional points from Mumma. He’d be after my life to study. He never ‘let things be’ and always wants to ‘know’ the answer to every mystery (Perhaps, Google them and forcibly explain them to me) He’d always let me apply him lipstick and make ponies of his hair when I created a fuss out of small things and cried. He’d keep singing on his top note and makes rules like ‘no singing allowed at home’ for me. He’d always lend money to me and my friends for samosa at school. He’d always serve me food and take the larger share of maggi without any guilt. He held the power of annoying people to limits and never being sorry about it. He always loved me the most but would never accept.

10th June,2010.
We, (Mumma, HIM and me) reached the humungous building of the Manipal University. The glasses shining so bright, almost blinding our eyes. It seemed these people had a special thing for glasses. They have it all over the place. Showing it off. It also rained. So heavy, getting on my nerves. I took it as a metaphor. The Lord was also rejoicing with me. He too, was happy for my freedom. We went into the edifice, too many formalities and finally it got official; Manas Kinra was now a part of ‘Manipal College of Pharmaceutical Sciences’ and Simran Kinra was granted her long-wished liberty. We went to the beach to celebrate and the kid inside me was already planning the new map of my new room.
THAT night was the happiest of my entire, entire life.
That’s a guarantee, nothing beats that night.
Finally, I got my OWN room, my own space. One more wardrobe, all the baggy T-shirts. Topped with ‘ultimate freedom’ and the privilege of eating all the chocolates - alone.



15th July, 2010.
All the arrangements met. Packing done. Fees paid. The monster was ready to leave for his new world. My inner Goddess rejoiced and danced and singed on the top of her voice. The actor in me wrinkled the face with fake remorse and ‘pretended’ immense grief. Trying to look like ‘too sad for the loss’
We bid him a good-bye while the walls of my room waited to get scribbled with MY name. He went away. My mom’s favourite child was now 5148415113 miles away, in the hot weather of Manipal and her second favourite child, under her nose : unable to hide the glee.

2nd December, 2013.
The maggi is no more to-be-shared and fought for the larger part. The remote unarmed. Chocolates, to be savoured alone. No one questions ‘kahan ja rahi hai? Pehle mumma se phone karke pooch’
Nobody demands ‘tameez se baat karna seekho.’ No one lends money at school. No one imbibes unwanted knowledge. No one to fight with and no one to complain about. Nobody fights for the softer quilt. Nobody steals the chocolates. Nobody gives a cold look on talking to boys at school. No one listens to the dumb talks. No one gets mad for no reason. No one to pushes the swing high up in the air. No one ushers to the restroom at night. No one scolds for unnecessarily crying at mere cuts. No one to dance with in the rain. No one calls up mumma and complaints ‘yeh ladki batameezi kar rahi hai, mai maar dunga isse.’ No one insults calling ‘mattoe’ in public.

COLLEGE HAPPENED.
The unconditional love is lost. Mumma misses her child; the idiot kid misses her monster. Perhaps, what do they say?
Life goes on.

..She knew it would take forever.

21^st November, 2013.

“But, my career is more important. You distract me. High time we part. If destined, life will make us meet again’’ he snapped and she shook up with a sudden jerk. Breathing heavily, she cursed herself for poisoning her mind watching those Hindi-soaps lately.

“Thank God it was a dream. Kaustubh can never dump me. Never will” she thought splashing cold water on her face and walking back to bed.

*I unread message* the 8 inch long device blinked.

Her inner Goddess danced. She knew who it was. Adjusting herself under the cold blanket and mushy pillows she clicked ‘open’ giggling like a 16 year old teenager.
And, that was it. The universe halted to a pause. November was not cold anymore. Blanket, no more comforting.

The typical dewy-eyed was forced back to the sands of time.

20^th June, 2012.

Tanya was jogging on the tracks of Chinese Park with ‘It’s a beautiful world’ humming in her ears when this striking outline of a man passed across her talking on the phone. But something in the air was so exciting, something so magical when their eyes met and the humid air suddenly transformed into a magical, exciting one. Their eyes met for a nanosecond and the world collapsed.

He could feel the chill in his spine and dragons in his stomach.
She could smell the intoxicating fragrance which would take an eternity to expunge her brain cells.
He cursed himself for not wearing the Blue T-Shirt.
She cursed herself for not brushing her hair.

..And, they were no more into sight. The force separated them.

21 year old Tanya would drool metaphorically every night thinking about the nameless-guy.
But, time swept fast. The nerd had no time for love and hopes were given up. Faith lost.
Though she would still wish for HIM every day when she visited the Gurudwara.
Religion was brutally followed now.

2^nd January 2013, 8 p.m.

The red-nosed girl sneezed for the 5^th time struggling with her oregano in the infinite queue of Reliance Fresh when she heard a similar voice squeaking his name for the third time ‘K-A-U-S-T-U-B-H’ yes, yes! It’s ‘U-S-T’.
Her head pounded due the sudden rush of blood and she turned behind in reflex.
Faith was again misplaced.
Smiling to herself she pondered ‘Blue suits him’ and walked out of the store.
Oregano was no more an essential ingredient for her pizza.


For the first time in her well spent 21 years of life, Miss Tanya Tandon did not think of the ‘people’ and continued smiling liked an idiot on the street.

“I finally know his name.” She IM-ed her best friend well versed with the mystery of the nameless; now-with-a-name guy.

“Screw you. Get over the jerk” the reply came. Which was –without any second thought- ignored. And, deleted.

She finally had ‘good’ reason to switch on the mean machine on her table.
45 minutes was all it took to find HER Kaustubh among 84652136 other Kaustbh’s, as it seemed.
Ignoring her conscience which made her feel like a desperate witch, she sent a friend request.

It was accepted within second.
Within minutes, giggles shared.
Within hours digits exchanged.
Within days, relationship statuses changes.

There was something surreal about them. Nobody could ever refrain envying them. From the old uncle who visited the same park for yoga where they met; to the little kids who played cricket with Kaustubh when Tanya showed up late. (Everyday)

Perhaps, only until the last message.

(21^st November, 2013)

Far away from all what WAS, she was now undergoing the most horrifying shock of her life. Everything within her, numbed. No tears. No swears. She lay on the bed, silent. Nothing registered her mind. The echo of his message was terribly beating against her eardrums. She curled up squeezing her legs. She re-read;

“But, my career is more important. You distract me. High time we part. If destined, life will make us meet again’’

Tears flickered but did not fall.
The fighter inside her raged.
Tanya Tandon did not let her life pause.
She did not whine or complain.

“I want to get married” she declared next morning. Leaving her parents rejoice.
Arrangements were instantly completed. Everything set-up.

31^st December, 2013.

28 days was all it took for Miss Tanya Tandon to become Mrs. Tanya Raj Kapoor.
Everything was good again.

Though, somewhere in the dark deep  buried tales of the night, the fragrance still lingered and felt. She knew it would take forever for the fragrance to expunge her brain cells.

Desires.

Pungent smell of medicines. Sweating foreheads. Bitten nails. Shivering shoulders. Puppy glances. Restless legs.

They sat on a cold metal chair; they had finally managed to capture after a series of unfortunate events and unsuccessful attempts. It’s never easy to grab a chair when so many eyes are transfixed at it.

‘’Chai?’’ She offered.

But he was too busy to answer. Fighting the tears and resisting the temptation.

She shook him slightly and ‘get lost!’ he screamed, with a jerk.

“What’s wrong with this man?” She wondered and managed passing the crowd of murmurs; stumbling and falling.

Pranav and Priya were a newly-wed couple; unlike the newly-wed couples; who were anxiously waiting for an alleviating opposite the bench of the ICU room, Care Hospital.
Pranav’s mother was apparently hit by a motorcycle when went for grocery shopping a week back; perhaps, was supposed to show “signs of recovery” gaining back senses and responding to touch.

The couple had miraculously been able to leave their quarrels within the four walls and deal with the situation in co-ordination.  At least, until the last hour. But that was not all what bothered the lean, dusky and intense grey-eyed man.  Not just Priya and her recent annoying habits; or the obvious worry and stress for his “aai”; his soul hid something else. A deep, dark, unsaid secret.
For him, Life was too grim for levity.

His forehead did not only sweat tension, but desire.

“12 ki nahi! 10 ka rate hai!” fought the lady in sky-blue salwar kameez with the vendor, and saving two rupees started walking back to her husband. Or, ‘suffocation’, as she lately devised.
She boiled with rage and fury but had promised to stand by her lawfully accepted mother, and so she did. Also, if not she, WHO?
Fighting her own thoughts and embracing the difficulties with her smile, she took short steps back to the ICU. With a chai in her right hand for the suffocation.

Lost in her own world she was brought back to life by a man in green robe and a face mask.. “Must be a doctor”, she thought.

“Are you the one attending Saraswati?” he inquired.

“Yes, I am her daughter” she shot her words, now soaked in fear.

The face was invisible. Expressions, unread. It could be anything. She prepared herself for the most lamenting news.
“Your mother is safe now. Congratulations! She has finally started responding to us. Celebrate, celebrate!” he screamed and went.

She was filled with a sudden sense of accomplishment. No words in her dictionary could ever describe the feeling; the state of happiness she experienced. Forgetting all the grievances, she ran for Pranav; but he was nowhere to be seen.

She knew where he was and died a little inside. But anyhow, ran to the window and grabbed the man who appeared to be a shadow.

“Baby! Mumma has recovered. Our aai can go back home now!! Let’s go and see her, together” she chirped with a grin sufficient to make every person’s mood on the floor.

But, it was too late. Pranav had touched euphoria. Cocaine had already dried the sweat off his head. The desire was satisfied, and brain at rest.

With the crimson tip of his nose and dizzy blackening sight, he pushed her wife and yelled “WHO AAI?”

Suppressed

One day, the angels said to God : ''This world is gloomy, without a woman my Lord!'' So, He decided to make a female. But, nothing much was left after the creation of a male.
So, He gathered

The splendour of the moon.,

And softness from a parrot's plume.

Trembling from a grass,

Silence of a portrait,

Delicacy of a petal,

and elegance of a pearl !

Resolution from a rock,

And also, vanity from the peacock.

Astonishment from the mirror,

Fidelity from a sunflower,

Tears from the lie,

Timidity of a hare,

And strength of a mare !

Why was I, not born a boy?

When all of it was finally moulded into a figure, it was found to have eternal beauty, and brain, too - in full measure ! The Lord decided to call it a 'Woman', and sent her from Heaven, to Earth.
But, in this golden age, when she came over here, gender bias became her main fear.If her parents bought her to this world, why did they tend to become her destroyer?Slowly dying, mournfully crying..She sits under the vast blue skies.When a thought approaches her mind, and a scream approaches her heart..Why is she alone? Why so 'Suppressed' ?
Woe begone, and with a mind full of thoughts, she calls for her mother but, is eventually berated upon!
And she ponders, if Durga and Lakshmi  are worshipped as 'maa' why is she not at their par? With wits and scars, she screams but loud.. She had a wish to touch the clouds..And, in the end she dies with a tear in her eye, and a question in her mind..
''Why was I, not born a boy?''

Dear torture, I BID THEE ADIÓS!

[A note for the reader: This article was written for my friend who went through a heartbreak. Written in first person to avoid complexities. I hope you like it.]

Okay. I don’t really know where to start from, how to start and what to write BUT since it has to start, let’s give this start the name of start. [If you were expecting to find a fervent or languish piece of writing under this title, then I'm sorry to disappoint you.]

“It’s not working anymore’’, She said.
‘’That’s entirely your fault’’, He said.
‘’Oh. It’s always my fault! Why don’t you dump me then?’’ she cried.
‘’Oh! I’d love to. I LEAVE YOU, girl! You don’t deserve me’’ he stated, he smiled, a haughty smile and left.

And, she howled and screamed and wailed. This world is selfish. Everything around me is depressing. I’m worthless, useless. I’m full of anxiety, uneasiness, and stress. Nobody loves me. I have nothing to look forward to. These troubles have adamantly stood beside me all through my short-lived-life. Oh God! Why don’t you just send a truck which hits me when I walk by the pavement and KILL ME? She pondered, and slept.

Hey! I’m a 21st century teenager. My boyfriend just dumped me. I loved him, but eventually things didn’t set right, because of ME, my shortcomings, defects, flaws and errors. [That’s what HE has to say, at least] I don’t really deserve to exist! I have nothing to freaking exist for! I mean come on? How would I face the world without a boyfriend, a wardrobe; which is so oblivion of all the “in” clothes? And, then the unholy absence of gadgets like an Xbox, android-supporting-cell phone, [which supports FB, Whatsapp, Viber, G-Talk, Skype], an iPod, iPad, just fills the basics. But that’s not all! I have to excel in every field [that’s what most of my elders expect, at least] And then, this size zero age. Which means, shaking my ass off this bean bag and more of walking, running, jumping, gyming! And, if that does not fit the bill, dieting might also peep through! But wait! That’s not where I end. I have to look fab. I have to buy a zillion of dresses. Watch all the latest movies. Update myself with all the happenings and mis-happenings. Maintain my ‘image’ in the society. Counsel a defeated friend. Modernize myself. ‘Behave’ in front of guys by making sure that I don’t wear short clothes, for that might ‘tempt’ them. Excel in all walks of life. Take care of pados-ki-meena-aunty, delhi-waali-bua and every tom-dick-harry around me. Update my Facebook profile, get some new pictures [and also, at least a hundred likes] Phew! I try to rest. But the thought of not getting admitted in a respectable school with a ‘respectable’ subject, the thought of pleasing everyone around me, the thought of living up to everybody’s expectations, resides somewhere in my brain, standing like a monster giving me a sly grin.




According to the world and *bahar ke chaar log* who tend to align our lives, I have a perfect reason to kill myself. Create a shell around myself, stop socializing and become an irritating teenager. But hey! Wait. Mumma significantly spent a lot of shekels on my education. [Ignoring the fact, that it’s just been 12 years of schooling. Because, anyhow it does matter.] I’m not going to waste it all. Let me deal this with wisdom. It’s time to put all the “enlightments”, all the hey-don’t-give-up teachings, [by oh-so-learned teachers], the lectures teemed up with optimism, the preaching’s of those motivating and inspiring pictures on Facebook to EXECUTION.

YO! Dear pessimistic thoughts, NO! I’m not killing myself. Or, becoming that one annoying and creepy 15-year-old that yells at everybody around and blames *kismat* for every loss. Rather, I’m going to kill you! And every single hint of your mere presence. This, is the time, to LET IT GO. I mean, imagine! Imagine a life without these flings? These worries, these sorrows, the heartbreaks, these downs? Woah. NOW THAT IS DEPRESSING! Isn’t it? The mere thought of leading a worry-free life is, tormenting! And makes me realize, DUDE! How would I even feel and realize that I actually LIVE? Eh. “A tension free life” Where everything would be flowery, colorful, delightful, rejoiceful, and, and just ‘perfect’. Well, No thanks! For, *Life* is a synonym for complication, anyway! How can ‘I’ be spared? Moreover, why should I be spared? All this defines ME. Tells me, I’m normal. I’m living. Tells me, grief is a part and parcel of this beautiful journey! This has to happen. We need to be defeated. To be dejected. At last, we’re humans not robots!

Soooo, hey my loyal companion aka lamenting notions, why don’t we part? You aren’t of any worth, anyway. For the best, you’d just magnify the griefs, the pains and put me into a despondent and low-spirited state! And, I don’t let you do that just for the sake of that one lets-commit-suicide thought, which incidentally crossed my mind. I know you can forgive me for that! Even the most intellectual spooks have once through their lifetime, acknowledged these gruesome thoughts and have been moved by the emotion! So why not me? I can’t be flawless. I can’t walk matching shoulders with you. I won’t give up. I’ll never give up. I’ll stand up again. I’ll not let these worldly things overpower the heavenly things around me. I have faith in me. In my God, in my mom, and that’s enough! I can’t achieve the plethora of perfection. I’ll be ME.