It was chilly. Far across the road, a blanket-wrapped watchman sat outside a building gate, warming himself on a small lump of burning wood. A car or two zoomed past every now and then. 23 of them had passed in the last couple of hours he recalled. 23 of them would pass every couple of seconds a few hours from now. A dog had suddenly started barking some distance away, as if trying to announce its sleeplessness to the entire world. An old man who was sleeping peacefully on a push cart by the footpath, shooed the envious dog away. He soon went back to sleep. The buildings looked like huge dark structures randomly dotted in yellow and white. Some people are still awake. He curiously wondered what was happening inside those white and yellow dots. Probably some had slept with lights on, some worked late, couples quarreled or made love; there was no way to know. He picked out another bidi from his pocket and lit it. The smoke rose in the air, and so did the warm hazy breath, till both merged in the winter air.
Jessica gazed out of her window, watching all this 7 stories below her. The coffee had done well to keep her awake, but that was hours ago. Perhaps it was something else; she didn’t know. She probably understood Antonio better now than she did seven years ago when she was in school. Her room lay beside the window sill, neat, uninhabited. The bed had starched bedsheets, as if no one had slept on them for ages; the lamp beside was dimmed adding to the silence of the room. An overturned copy of Shantaram was the only decoration on the table beside the bed. A framed photograph of a desolate beach hung on the wall above her bed. She watched as a dog, perhaps lost, perhaps just trying to fit into this world was trying to find some shelter for the night. It tried finding a place on a pile of dug up rubble by the roadside but was snarled away by another group of dogs. Animal nature. It then crossed the road, almost got itself killed under a speeding car in the process, and tried finding some peace under a push cart. The man sleeping on it shooed it away. Human nature.
The Western Express Highway lay deserted, never-ending and it had suddenly lost all its charm. Rahul could feel the vodka in his blood-one hell of a party it was. He loved the hustle bustle of day, the mad rush through overcrowded roads, the myriad noises which created some kind of a symphony. The nights turned lonely, a sudden void. He tried finding solace in the company of friends, spending the night in noisy places, subduing his senses in alcohol and waiting for the dark silence to break at dawn. It would be dawn soon he thought to himself. He barely noticed a dog crossing the road. Too late to press the brakes, he just sped past. The rearview mirror just showed dark shadows on the road under the dim street lamps. Did it manage to escape? He couldn’t tell. Maybe another soul just merged with the silent darkness.

Faith, Belief and God

God and man are tied together by the thread called Belief. An abstract term, its significance varied from person to person. Some, as I mentioned earlier associate it with God, while others with everything else. Many a times the answer to this question sought by an educated mind results in rationalisation on the altars of science; it results in a divide between the mind(brain) and the soul(heart). The brain, well versed in science and scientific reasoning finds and answer for everything to deny the very foundations of Belief. The heart on the other hand uses belief as a prop to keep going in the right direction. It is Belief in God that sustains a lost soul when he faces a dead end. The anecdote below would perhaps be the best way to convey the message.

Two criminals broke out of jail located in the middle of a desert. It was a hot summer noon and they had no idea where the nearest signs of civilisation were. One of the criminals was a scientist who swore by science and the other, a believer in God. They decided to walk and keep each other company till they reached safety. The walk in the hot sands was an ordeal that was sapping them of all their energy and the zeal of freedom. Yet they dragged along. Suddenly, the Believer started running, shouting, “Water! Water!” and the scientist on hearing these magic words, started running too. The Believer stopped after sometime, looking all around, bewildered on not finding the water. The scientist, puffing and panting caught up with him and pointed out,"You had seen a mirage.” They walked on, the exercise draining a lot out of them.

(I suppose, some of you would have already guessed where this is headed…)

Soon, the Believer saw water again and started running towards it. The Scientist called out behind him, ”That’s a mirage you fool. Stop this non-sense. You are tiring both of us. Just conserve your energy till we can get help.”

“No”, replied the Believer. ”We are being tested for our sins. Keep running and we shall find water.”

“Alright then”, retorted the scientist. “You go ahead. Keep running and get yourself killed. I will not give in to your foolishness any longer. Farewell!”

The Beilever kept following the ‘water’ which eluded him every time. But each time he convinced himself that it was God who was playing tricks with him and prodded on. He walked and ran and walked again. Till it was dark. Soon he saw light in the distance. He ran again and this time he found it was for real. It was a village. It was too dark then to go out looking for the Scientist so he decided to go in the morning. At the break of dawn, he took a camel and ventured out in search of the Scientist. He found the Scientist lying dead near about the same place where they had had parted.

So what is the moral of the story? Perhaps you would still remember the endless number of stories which shows a blind believer, who does not work hard in poor light. I could not agree more. Belief is not what stops one from working towards his goal, it is a source of energy. True Belief is one that helps one move on despite all atrocities and adversities in situations where rational thinking would suggest giving up. God is like that source of light at the end of the tunnel, which gives you the false impression that the tunnel is not dark and prods you to keep walking. In today’s world, Faith is a gift which keeps one in the path of 'Dharma' despite innumerable distractions and incentives to quit that path. It is this faith which therefore still holds the world together saving it from total chaos. So, finally what about God? Well, I believe and I keep the faith!

Karna

The entire night passed in a daze. Not a wink of sleep. Had he found a mother or lost one? He did not know. He felt like the waters in a lagoon; it knows not whether it belonged to the river or the sea. He wept all night. Kunti had asked him not to kill her sons, his half-brothers. If he did not, he would be betraying himself and his dear friend, a friend who had embraced him when all others had ostracised. I cannot spare Arjun were his last words to his mother as he turned away from her moist gaze. He had been deprived of her love and affection all his life; and now when he wanted to rest his head on her laps and weep, he could not. And he knew deep inside that she longed to clasp her long lost son, close to her bosom as well. He could not let emotions get the better of his ideals. So he walked away.
Hidden in all his agony, was a shimmer of joy. The Pandavs were his brothers. Arjun was his brother. Circumstances had forced him to take up arms against Arjun, but he adored him at heart. Deep down inside he knew he could not kill his younger brother. He stared at the starry skies and painted his thoughts on the wide spotted canvas. A young Karna playing with his five brothers-piling on each other, running around, flinging each other into the waters. The thoughts melted away into slumber.
It was the big day in the battle. Krsna knew it better than all. Arjun was to fight Karna. He knew that Arjun did not stand a chance. But only one man knew of what was to come-Karna. The chariots of the two great warriors stood face to face, about a couple of hundred yards apart. The soldiers stood by, no one moved a muscle. This was going to be etched in history in letters of gold. The charioteers snapped the reins of the horses, and the chariots jumped to life. Thousands of friends and foes watched. Arjun was said to be invincible, but they knew he had finally met his match. Karna on his part knew what he wanted to do but knew not how. He looked at Krsna, advancing towards him. He shut his eyes. Krsna, you know all. Give me all the courage I need. The chariot halted with a sudden jerk. Karna jumped off to find a wheel of his chariot stuck in a puddle. He looks up at Krsna, Arjun’s charioteer, a few yards away. Krsna smiled back as if to say I heard you. Karna kept his bow and quiver aside as he knelt by the wheel. He looked away as he tried with to pull up the wheel. And he waited. He waited and waited until he felt the sharp and heavy piece of iron pierce his heart. He fell to the ground, looked up at Arjun and smiled. In the numbing silence that followed in the battle field, Karna could hear the voices of his brothers, his mother Kunti, his friend Duryodhan. He was content-he had lived up to his Dharma towards his friend, mother and brother. The golden orb in the distance sunk below the horizon. Darkness embraced the battlefield as Karna shut his eyes for the eternal sleep.

The stained remnants of my
Sins remain unwashed.
Red, still fresh, bleeding
Through the wounds of my soul.

Flesh-
My immortal self, seethes
In its sweltering stench;
Provoking the orgy of emotions:
Draining all of me.

Osru jole bohiya jai,

Bedonai bhora klanto mon;

Shithil hoye shikol bedhe,

Nijeke keno rekheche gopon?

NH 44

The drive from Guwahati to Shillong, judging from my memories, has been quite pleasant. The ascent from the hot, humid plains to the hills through winding roads, the scent of cold misty air gushing in through the pulled down glass of the speeding vehicle, is an experience to behold. The leaves of trees keep growing smaller and smaller till spiky pine trees decorate the facade of the hills like green rippling curtains. One does come across human habitations, mainly small Khasi villages by the roadside, making a living out of business the commuting vehicles generate. The short statured, shawl clad, red-lipped betel leaf chewing inhabitants going about their daily business is a pleasant sight.Communicating has never been a problem. They speak their own unique dialect of Hindi, bearing the tone of their mother tongue; quite intelligible though.
About ten kilometers before entering Shillong, one drives along the most scenic stretch of the entire journey, along the Barapani reservoir. The placid waters, with the rays of the sun enmeshed, as if dancing with the ripples. Small islans jut out of the water here and there. One of the most picturesque spots one could encounter.
Sadly, things have changed now, as an aftermath of progress perhaps-the thrust towards development.Unknowingly, we are destroying the natural heritages that have lived on for ages. The four laning of the highway has led to excavations of the slopes running along the road. The amount of deforestation is simply heart rendering for anyone who has grown up plying these roads, admiring the beauty of the trees lining the driveway. The tiny hamlets that existed earlier have now been transformed into caverns of concrete. The carpet road which though a narrow one, was a pleasure to drive on, is replete with potholes.It has become nothing less than a nightmare. Adding to the woes are the traffic blockades being caused by the construction work. All in all, another jungle of concrete and malba is being created. Indeed, this is modernisation as some would call it, but i still prefer the same old drive that lingers on as a faint,fading memory.