I was walking to home after class in evening, after buying things needed at home.
I was tired and all I wanted is to get to home as soon as possible.
The evening was getting darker and suddenly in front of me a bus came to a halt from which the conductor was helping a blind man to climb down it.
I casually watched while increasing my pace to home.
It was getting darker and the place I need to reach is far.
I walked faster and reached farther but something in my mind nagged me to turn my head and I saw the old man was getting hit by the small pillars on the pavement.
“Someone will help him,” I thought. I waited for few seconds but everybody was busy. I was hesistant but instincts kicked in and I walked towards him.
I took his hands and said, ‘uncle, where do you want to go?” I was tensed a little as if he asks me to help him cross the road, I’d be struggling, like a lot in crossing that road which had heavy traffic.
“There is a tea shop at the bus stop near the junction. I go there everyday at this time, I thought someone would help me but…” his word trailed off into a plethora of thoughts, silence prevailing between us.
“I will…I will take you there, uncle,” I smiled him and ushered him there.
He went after asking my name and all. He was smiling and more over I felt that pride over myslef, the courage to come out of my shell and be that someone for an unknown entity in this universe!
“Don’t cry like girls. You are a boy”, said my friend to her brother when he was crying hard due to his break up.
Stop saying that ‘men don’t cry’ thing. Would you suppress your laugh when you hear jokes? If it isn’t normal then why suppressing someone’s tears just due to their gender is considered normal!!
Tears have got reservation due to gender!!
“You are weak even if having a huge body. Are you even a man?”, said a girl to my cousin when herefused to fight with a boy.
Stop comparing masculinity with the ability to fight. If he doesn’t wanna fight let him. Just because he is a man, he is not supposed to fight every time.
“He is a guy and he still acts like a kid. He is really immature and irresponsible”, said my friend to me when her boyfriend acted childish in front of her.
Just because they are men, they are not entitled to act tough everywhere. There are times when they feel comfortable to be a child, at least in front of the person whom they love most. Cherish it and if you could, resonate the same without placing the hurdles of society standard for him!!
When we can blame menstruation for our mood change, when we are provided with reserved seats, female helpline, their voices, tears and pain are confined to their body owing to their gender!!
I saw a man who was mentally ill, muttering something, walking opposite to me. He was crippled and harmless.
Fear started crawling down my spine. I knew he won’t harm me yet scary thoughts fluttered around in my mind, making my hands sweat, profusely.
Clenching my fist, I walked with firm steps, faking my braveness! I..Am…I mean..I…Was..Brave….
Our distance reduced and my fear was enlarged enough to engulf me. He came near me. Stood in front of me. My way was blocked.
My heartbeats resembled a drum, playing profoundly, producing a symphony of scream which was jailed by my adrenaline hormone, rushing through nerves like an ambulance, to make me sprint! Alert! Danger!
My feet were frozen. All those speeches to face the problem, evaporated into thin air, condensed and rained down, washing away my fake bravery!
To my surprise, he laughed at me with all his heart and then continued walking. “What a stupid,kid”, he might have thought.
I was taken aback by his gesture. Turned my head to ensure that he had walked far, I sprinted towards home, opened the door and shut it loudly, panting heavily.
He was a successful student once but became mentally ill at some point of his life.
Now he has become a burden to his family. He never harmed anyone but was lost in his own sane world with an unchained mind, wandering around.
He was left alone. I can sympathize for him but deep down in my heart, I can feel the tremor of being alone.
Infact everybody are alone, some embrace their solitude while standing in the crowd, some quit, some scream, yet nobody acknowledges it.
Why? Because bleeding souls are invisible!!
Everybody’s lives flow with the time, just like machines, forgetting to live and starts existing, being a prisoner of fate!!
Morning rays slid the curtain of darkness in my eyes or was it her memories in disguise? I don’t know….She is no more in my life….
I slowly slid the blanket, sat on bed, the moment I wanted to be that naughty hair strands of her, just to be touched eternally by her fingers, the moment I grabbed her hand tightly, when she wanted to leave me, whirled around, producing a cyclone of her memories!
Why isn’t it tearing me apart? I wondered. Alas! I had already tore apart and left to bleed by her glance once!
The day I saw her on the staircase, giggling, a spark ignited in my deserted mind.
I know, I am short tempered, I don’t deserve a girl like her, still losing her stings my heart, but my heart had dumped me for her, so I guess, only thing I am left with is my soul!
“Let’s breakup”, I didn’t know that a person can die just by words, no poison, no gun, just words!
“Should I text him?”, Engulfed by thoughts, she wandered through the street.
Every time her fingers gave the wings for her thoughts, backspace button sliced them down.
She recalled herself, yelling at him to hold her hands tightly, to not let her go..why those words chose to be the prisoners of my vocal chord? She wondered.
Somehow she was standing at a shop near his apartment looking towards his empty balcony, the same place where they became Jack and Rose!
“Hey”, she mustured the courage to text.
No reply. 10 minutes later. She saw blue tick mark..Still..No reply…
“You know she got her babies through IVF!” Said the lady at the function.
“Mm,” the other one was nodding.
“You know that’s not even the amazing thing, sometimes we can’t even trust these ‘IVF walas’, we wouldn’t even know whose babies they might be!” Both ladies laughed as if they’ve solved a solution to crack IAS!
They were talking about a lady in her 40s and was a family friend of ours.
She couldn’t conceive for almost 5 years after her marriage but both husband and wife never gave up and tried every treatment possible.
Now after eternal misery, she has finally got her twin babies who were healthy and lovely.
The ladies were talking about this and what makes them pure evil is the way they find spaces to fill in their toxicity.
“Hi, umm, do you..Do you know the full form of IVF?” I asked, infiltrating their happiness.
“Yeah, they give babies, right?” The lady replied, wiggling her eyebrows.
“Right!” I smirked and walked away from them.
Why should I respect her?
Why in the hell should I respect a female?
Did she made that decision to become a female in her mother’s womb? No, right! It’s the process.
It’s the process every human being pass through to have a gender.
Now whats the logic in respecting someone for something that they aren’t in control to decide by themselves!
And to why should I respect such evilness when there are many who actually deserve the respect irrespective of gender!
“Sister, tie my hair with these ribbons, I love it so much.” As the little girl was getting ready for school, sun rays which seeped in through the window, embraced her.
She had elder brothers and sisters. Being the youngest child, she was everyone’s sweetheart.
Few weeks ago school has started after summer vacation. She went to a nursery or more like a daycare as there were no one to look after her as her parents had to work in farms.
Plump rose cheeks, little pair of eyes which brimmed with curiosity and a smile . Eldest sister tied her hair at two sides of her head with ribbons.
The eldest sister had to work owing to the family condition at that time. Though she didn’t had the luxury to fill her stomach, she didn’t forget to buy her little sister a cute bag and pencil box.
That day was a usual day, where she was sent nursery by her mom.
The evening was full with clouds slithering through the sky. Rain drops were pelted towards earth, blanketing it with coldness, water gushing out of them embracing the farms and rivers.
The little girl waited for her mom, with eyes glinting in happiness.
Seconds increased, so does her fear. Without anyone seeing, she slipped through the crowd as she knew a shortcut route to home.
The cute little feet tapped the ground in a rhythm syncing with the chain of rain drops, soon she trudged along the shore of a small river, although the rain made it nasty enough that her cute little eyes only saw the beauty of it but not the treachery.
Her feet slipped, and the river swallowed her, leaving a trail of slippers and her new school bag.
Her cries. Unheard.
Her tears. Unseen.
Hearing the way my mom’s younger sister’s death from my mom’s elder sister, I was left awestruck with tears looming in my dark brown eyes, unable to forget the cute little girl she had painted in my mind, leaving a trail of blood drops writhing me in agony.
The end of the lane which thrust out a signboard of the village was shrouded in darkness. The moon was peeping out unleashing its glow over the earth. I drove past in my car, alone, focusing on the road which started to get muddy and had lost the lustre of smoothness like the highway had.
It was approaching 10 p.m. which a glance through the corner of my eyes confirmed. I slowly pulled down the window shield, taking in the breath of fresh air, the aroma that was predominantly held as a heritage by the village, making my long curly hair strands flutter, partly hiding my vision. After tucking them under my ears, I heaved a sigh.
“I shall take a temporary stop at any nearby lodge,” telling that to myself, I slowed down the vehicle, and my gaze fell on a man, who was clad in a thick black blanket throwing suspicious glances at me.
“Hey, are there any lodges nearby?” I asked.
I heard a snicker, followed by a smirk, “Lady, what are you doing here at night? You should be at home!”, I could sense the twinge of astonishment laced with arrogance in his coarse voice.
“I guess, that shouldn’t be bothering you! You have an answer?” I asked returning his smirk, forcing to reek off equal stubbornness.
“Mm, no, there isn’t any. But there is a tea stall few metres from here,” he told.
“Thanks”, tearing off my gaze away from him, I gripped the steering wheel, revved the engine, and sped off.
There was no need to explain to him that I was a tourist, which was inviting danger towards me. Lost in thoughts, I drove.
I saw a whiteboard lit in neon colours, it read-‘Nighthouse Tea Stall’. I pulled off my car opposite to it, and as soon as I opened the door after adjusting my kurti, I saw a boy smiling at me.
“Welcome to our tea stall, sister.”
“Thank you, kid. But what are you doing here at night? You should be at home,” I said, smiling at him.
“Nah, this is my father’s tea stall, I help him during vacations. Sometimes I hold the board so that the passengers can see and visit our place,” he was grinning, as he stood near me. “What would you like to have?”
“Let me reach the stall, and sit, shall I?” Giggling, I replied.
“Hehe, it’s to prepare food fast and fresh, like my father always says that customers are our God! Today’s special is hot bread.”
“Ok, kiddo, I’d like tea and bread, do you guys make bread here, or just order from outside?” I asked curiously.
“We serve what we make, hygiene is also important,” he replied, grinning.
“That’s great. I will sit on the chair outside.”
We crossed the road and he rushed inside, as I sat on the chair, gazing at the throngs of people at the place, who were leaving the stall while inhaling the aroma of tea floating in the air around me.
The leaves of the banyan tree opposite to the stall under which I had parked my car was swaying in the cool breeze that was kissing them in affection. There was this tingling deep down my mind, once where there was chaos, there was peace now with everything that happened in my life.
I saw a man with a lean physique walking with a trembling torso, come near me. He sat down beside me with a plastered grin, enough to make anyone feel creepy.
To be honest I was uncomfortable not because of his appearance but due to his murmurings. He was constantly looking at the banyan tree. Following the direction of his gaze, my eyes squinted at the well near the tree, which was now in ruins, a thing I had missed earlier.
“Hello, what’d you like to order?” A boy’s voice pulled me out of the trance.
“Hey, I have already ordered, thank you,” I smiled and replied.
“Okay then.” He moved to another customer.
My eyes again fell on the man, who had stopped now and his mumblings had collapsed into the abyss of silence.
“What are you looking at?”, intrigued, I asked him.
“Oh, you don’t know?” he replied.
“It’s an old tale, wanna hear? Everybody knows that. So I was searching for someone new to say it. I love telling stories.” He grinned.
“Years ago, a little boy went missing. Everyone started searching. His friends said that they were playing hide and seek, and one friend remembered that he saw the boy heading towards the tea stall but nobody had seen him here.” The man sighed.
“You should’ve reported that to the police.” I said, sounding wary.
“The police won’t even come to our place, let alone reporting,” I could see the fury his eyes dripped.
“They won’t come here because of the infamous haunted story circulating about our village of hearing noises late at night which wouldn’t be coming from a known source. Everyone ended the search after a few weeks. His family started forgetting him. Then one day an old man of the village said in reference to the village haunting that he had heard cries from a well. As he had hearing problems everyone ignored him. Only the missing boy’s friend followed the lead and searched each and every well of the village,” the man breathed a long sigh, “he finally found a skeleton in that well, which was covered with a big rusting iron lid.”
“Oh my!” Deeply shaken, my thoughts abruptly stopped.
“Later investigations proved that the boy must’ve slipped into the well accidentally and somebody might’ve closed the lid unknowingly, which only applies if the boy was unconscious due to the fall,” he closed his eyes, pausing for a moment.
“Here is your order,” the boy who came earlier when I sat here, had brought me tea and bread.
“Where is the kid whom I had given the order?” I asked, looking inside the stall. The stall was deserted, leaving me and the boy alone. As I was immersed in the story I had forgotten about time.
“Kid? There is no kid here! Only me and the owner of this tea stall work here.”
Instantly the man near me stood up and strolled away, wrapping the blanket he had in his polythene cover. That took me by surprise, as it rendered the flash of the man I saw before coming here. Although I hadn’t seen his face clearly, the blanket had white stripes, which I identified.
“Who’s that man?” I asked the boy.
“Oh, him, he comes here every day, and looks at that well for some time where his son died,” the boy replied.
“Somebody called Raj Pradhan, that man’s rival had taken revenge by taking his child’s life. He always says that the lid was intentionally closed. Who knows the truth!” Shrugging the boy went inside the tea stall.
My throat was parched, words got stuck in the haze where I found myself drowning as I recalled few childhood memories where my mother used to tell me stories of children who went missing in a playful way that I adored much.
Hastily, I put aside the tea glass and sprinted across the road, but a force suddenly grabbed me and dragged me towards the well. As my gaze traveled from the small legs to the dreary face of the little boy, a shudder ran across my spine, chilling my nerves.
“Leave..” I was numb. My voice acted as if it never existed. My eyes were clenched tightly, but I didn’t leave forcing my release from his grip. But everything went in vain, as I was being pushed into the well, and the last thing I remember was the moonlight before the iron lid closed.
A glint in the eyes of the man sliced through the darkness as he hastened his steps. An identity card from Wipro industries dangled on the dashboard of her car, it read-’Sonya Pradhan’!
It has been a constant worry about exams and other tests whether one would remember everything they have mugged up.
Nobody actually knows how our brain works and end up forgetting things they have studied.
That actually leads to an external dilemma of students, ‘How to increase your memory power?’
1.Revise, revise and revise – The more you revise the more you remember. Imagine going to a new place. After the journey how much would you remember? May be some but what about the place where you have been frequently visiting? Maybe you might remember everything. That’s the exact technique behind revising the points frequently.
2. Study consistently – You can’t just open the book 1 hour before the exam and expect to know everything. You need to get familiarised with the topics.
3. Eat food that feed brain not the ones that declare war with brain – Junk food have been proven to decrease your brain activity. Rather eat fruits, nut especially almonds and vegetables to have high memory power.