ENTROPY/CHAOS

(Order - Act I)

The child/WIND

Sitting down on the floor

Fresh and filled with energy, as the clock struck six,

Not a trace of exhaustion from the tedious school hours visible

The 7 year old poured out the contents -

Building blocks they were, from the pouch..

Slowly segregating the smaller and the larger pieces

She started joining them..

As the pieces attached themselves

Suddenly her mind wavered

Like a wind wandering undecided

And she removed the attached pieces

Only to join them differently

Stacking them one above the other in an order 

Slowly building her own home!

The woman/WATER

As she finished folding the dresses

That had till then been tortured by the sun's heat

She entered the kitchen

Her mind calculating the hours left for the day

And the tasks to be completed..

Being a skilled one at household chores

Taught by 8 years of marriage

Her thoughts seemed clear

Clearer than the undisturbed lake..

Happy with herself, she opened the tap

And scrubbing the utensils one by one 

She started washing them, delighted 

Her plans were getting executed one by one as usual!

The ant/EARTH

Having finished feasting on the cockroach

That was dead and turned upright

The colony started making its way

Toward the ant-hill that lay at the corner of the garden..

Marching slowly forward

One behind the other

Like a well-organized republic day parade

Little doubt in why they were called super-organisms

Having learned to share their labors among themselves

The most planned of all species, the ants..

9 in number they were

And they covered every inch, not fumbling but solid and stable

As solid as the ground below them

To keep marching towards the ant-hill

In a straight line, completely ordered!

The man/FIRE

Getting down from the bus

He walked slowly towards his home

His lunch-bag in one hand, umbrella in the other

And the executive-bag on his shoulder..

A few meters away, hiding behind an abandoned old van

Stood the villain, holding a knife in his hand

The face of his victim flashing again on his mind

Having seen the man walking on the road, gotten down from the bus

The hatred in his heart started burning

Like the fire that was set to the garbage heap at a corner

Which was the only source that lit up the street..

He had been waiting for this, 10 long months

Since he had been sent to prison

By that very same man walking towards him

Not accepting a bribe offered by this villain

And showing the law his good side

Making the villain bad and his family detested..

And now was his chance

In that empty street, lit only by a single flame

And as he saw the man at a few feet's distance

He jumped out of his hiding place

And held out the knife towards the man

Waiting to execute his well laid out plan!

(Order - Act II)

God/SKY

Waving his hand, God cleared the sky

That was being filled with large black rain clouds

Looking below at the world, he smirked

Fully filled with buildings

It seemed to have adopted its own design and order

Unlike the one that God had designed..

'What have they done?' he asked his attendant

'Probably the result of your own statement' the attendant replied

And God looked at him, his eyebrows raised

"I am God almighty. Be fruitful and multiply.

A nation and a company of nations shall come of thee." the attendant quoted

Verse number 11 from Genesis of the Bible..

The number 11 caught God's attention and he laughed

'They have created a lot of fables with this one - 11' he said

And the attendant agreed

'In 11, the 1 stands for the greater force, the Lord,

And the sum, 2, suggests the duality or the balance quotient of the Lord

- This is how Hinduism signifies it' the attendant completed..

The God remained silent 

Anger building up within him

Like the clouds that were building up ready to burst

'How dare they set me a balance quotient?

These humans set themselves order and balance

And they now are trying to include me in this petty game of theirs.

I will show them what imbalance and chaos and disorder is!'

He said and stared angrily at the world below him!

(Disorder - an act within the 'Order' act II)

Life/ENTROPY

The child placed the last block at the top

The woman washed her last plate, waiting to add it to the shelf

The ants were nearing the ant-hill, their line undisturbed

The man stood shocked at the sight before him

The villain was readying his mind to plunge the knife

God was waiting to unleash his anger upon the ordered world

And in a second it all happened!

(Disorder - Act I)

A very strong wind blew its way through the window

And the 'building-block' home came falling down..

Tears flowing out of her little eyes at the fallen home

The girl rushed towards her mom at the kitchen

Screaming and crying, surprising her mom

Who having washed the last plate, rotated the tap to close it

During which it broke out loose, water spraying and splashing all around..

Shocked, the mom tried filling the hole with her hand

During which the water sprayed in an inclined angle

Falling out the window, over the colony of ants..

The line shattered as the huge droplets started falling like atomic bombs

And the ants scattered all around, a few rushing toward the ant-hill..

As the fastest ant reached the ant-hill, the ground started shaking

And the mom in the kitchen, trying to stop the water flowing

While consoling her crying daughter, realized it too..

She grabbed her daughter and leaving the kitchen, 

She hurried towards the door

As she crossed the hall, she saw their family photo-frame fallen down

And as she glanced at it for a moment while hurrying out,

She wondered where her husband was..

(Disorder - Act II)

The man, as he stared at the knife held before him

Felt the ground trembling beneath his feet..

As he looked below, the villain standing before him also bent

And in that fraction, the man pounced on the villain

Hitting him with the umbrella

Unexpected by the villain, making the knife slip from his hand..

The villain hit him back and as the man fell back

The villain bent down to pick the knife which kicked by the man

Went flying far from his reach..

As the villain rushed forward, landed a blow on his face

The umbrella being the culprit

And the man jumped to the ground

Which was still shaking, to pick the knife..

And as he grabbed it, the villain had stood up again

Seeing the knife in the man's hand

He was hesitant for a moment..

They stood looking at each other

The villain now weaponless and the man holding the knife

When the fire that was burning went off.. 

Knowing this was his chance, the villain jumped at him

Only to feel steel piercing his skin

And as the pain hit his brain, he let out a scream

A scream that seemed a mere whisper

Before the thunder that roared that moment..

As the villain slowly fell down, the man 

Shocked at what he had done, looked around

Darkness was what he saw, not a single human

And pulling out the knife, the man started running towards his home

His mind, blank, and his feet trembling along with the ground..

(Disorder - Act III)

From the end of the street, he had seen the collapsed buildings

A result of the quake that had shaken the ground

Increasing in its magnitude with every step he had run towards his home..

And as he reached his home

A heavy downpour had started..

The rain slapped over his face, flowing down with his tears

As he saw his home that had collapsed

But it was not the pile of fallen bricks he cared about..

He pushed open the gate

And entered in when struck a lightning

Showing him the two things he loved the most in the world

Standing in his garden, the daughter and the mother holding hands

And he let out a scream of relief..

Hearing which, the women rushed towards him 

And he hugged them like he had never before

And there, before the collapsed home, stood united a family..

(Order - Act III)

A week later, as the family woke up 

From a small tent in the refugee camp 

The speakers at the camp blared

'Our world has faced one of its worst disasters in the human history.

It is going to take us very long to return to our normal lives.

But never lose hope. We, the surviving leaders of all the nations have

Come together and have devised a well thought-out plan.

Let this be the beginning of a more united world.' the voice ended

And the family held each other closely, their hope rekindled..

'A plan again? Don't the humans ever realize their mistakes?

When would they possibly understand

That order and balance are mere illusions?'

God wondered out loud to his attendant..

'They would never.' the attendant replied

God remained silent..

'They would never because they are humans'

The attendant emphasized this time

And God looked at him confused

'Then, how is it that they overcome every obstacle

Only to appear stronger than before every time?'

He asked out loud..

And the attendant smiled

He knew the answer but he knew that it might anger God

And so letting God ponder over it in length

The attendant kept the answer to himself.

Love!

The muted screams

An image of a man in an orange suit, kneeling on the ground with a masked man behind him, dressed in black, was the first thing that caught my attention as I opened 'The Hindu' today. I was completely shaken as I read the news report in detail, online. 

It was not very long ago that I read an article written by a cameraman - Mohamed Badr - of Al Jazeera, who covered the Egyptian war in length. The article was about how his intention to capture a photograph as a tear-gas shell was thrown by the Egyptian military on a group of protestants had gone completely wrong and he had been captured by the Egyptian military and had been imprisoned for seven months. It was a very moving article in which he had mentioned how depressing it was to be left to suffer in an Egyptian prison while his wife gave birth to his son.

Journalists/Photojournalists all over the world have faced/face/will keep facing very similar threats and to a greater probability, very tragic deaths. 

Any person who admires journalism would not easily forget how Marie Colvin lost the sight in her left eye covering the Sri Lankan war or worse - how she lost her life covering the Syrian war. And having remembered Colvin, how could one miss Rémi Ochlik who was killed in the same tragic bombing?

What about the Libyan war that robbed the world of two great photojournalists in Chris Hondros and Tim Hetherington?

If we pause for a moment and think as to why these people agreed/agree to continue in a profession that endangered/endangers their lives every moment, we would be dumbfounded by the reason. 

These people had laid down/continue to lay down their lives so that we could be informed of the atrocities and inhumanities being carried out at the distant corners of the world.

These people had laid down/continue to lay down their lives to tell us the truest of stories about the human race and its potential to annihilate itself.

And what do we do? 

We never even care to give a glance to such reports written by the journalists, amidst the everyday-occurring-war, living with the fear of where the next bomb would land and pictures captured by the photojournalists, amidst the blood splattered bodies and brick shattered buildings, standing with the fear of whom the next bullet would target.

And why would we?

Our own petty problems in colleges and homes and organizations seem more important to us than hundreds of people dying in a middle-east nation and I would not blame anybody.

It is the way we are brought up and it is the way we are encouraged to exist in our society. 

Indifference and ignorance have become two of our most defining characteristics.

And it is a pity that the journalists/photojournalists living in the war zones believe that their accounts and reports are acting as a voice of the innocent people being killed everyday in the name of freedom. 

It is time that we send them an article for a change and call them back to come and lead a life as monotonous as ours instead of living every day as if it were the last one.

At least, they would be spared the cost that they are forced to pay for being the voice of every unheard common man caught in the middle of a war no way meaningful to him.

Writer, by love...

"The earth turned to bring us closer.
It turned on itself and in us , until it finally brought us together in this dream."

When in love, every love scene in a film, every romantic song composed and every line in a poem about love seems written just for our heart rotating around that so powerful universal emotion.

Neuroscience says that love is just the result of over secretion of 'Dopamine' by the A-10 cells - a phenomenon that generally occurs while taking in cocaine (no wonder then that most of us feel ourselves flying above the ground when in love). But the feeling of love, when it occurs, does not seem like just the result of an over-expression of a group of cells. It seems something more, sometimes even everything in life and rightly so. No other human emotion seems so singular and so powerful in its expression that it makes a hero out of a coward and a romantic out of a ruffian. The sense of belonging, the intensive possessiveness, the inexplicable helplessness - a human could never possibly become one without going through these.

'Love makes a poet out of everyone it touches', they say. I still find my poetry quite appalling but it did definitely make an average writer out of me.

There are a very few moments that occur in life that remain etched in our memory. Many many beautiful moments get lost by our terribly weak retentive capacity. When in love, for some reason, every second that passes in the company of the loved one seems special and every day that is spent in the romantic relationship seems to be begging you to record it. It never strikes you as you write down every single memorable moment as to what would these memories mean if the romance never works out. The mind just seems in a hurry to capture those greater-than-life happenings and it is only that which matters then.

When things go well, the written pieces seem priceless. But when read on a day - a day of a memorable occasion (love creates many of these) or the birthday of the loved one perhaps - a day well beyond the end of things, they shatter your heart. 

You start wondering as to how could so beautiful a thing become so cruel that even a happy moment in the past could cause only suffocation. And a feeling of anger overtakes the mind for having foolishly recorded all those moments to be torn apart later.

What did I gain from those pieces? Not happiness. Not warmth. A writer, perhaps.

But the realization only seems to make it worse. Would writing ever become a substitute for love?

The meaningless text messages exchanged then seem more meaningful than the Russian literature read to enhance the ethnicity of writing now. The completely absurd arguments argued then seem more pleasing than the constant nagging of ideas in the brain now. Staring continuously at the mobile screen and jumping out in joy at the beep sound of a message received then seems more preferable than the occasional visits to the dash-board of this blog with the tiny bursts of happiness when the page-view count increases now.

Who would want to write at the cost of love? What has writing given me that love could not have?

As all these thoughts accumulate together to form an emotional rain cloud ready to burst, you feel so desperate and devastated that you want to let the cloud burst and let it pour.

And then you realize - you do have a chance to pour it out. 

By writing.

And a tiny helpless smile appears on your face.

Love works in mysterious ways. More so does life!

The rainy aftermath

Puddles of water all around, water droplets all over the leaves, birds so beautifully ruffling their feathers to dry their bodies, the scent of the mud so strong that it would break our civilized lives to pieces - a walk in the morning after a rainy night is one of the best encounters a man could have with nature.

Nothing ever symbolizes the human mind more lucidly than the ripples that keep forming and deforming in a puddle with every droplet that falls from the leaves of the tree above it. 

No wonder that the 'rain' and its aftermath is one of the most favorite subjects of most writers or any creative person for that matter.

....And a FRIEND indeed....

Being a writer (!) gives you the privilege of making yourself emotionally stable by allowing yourself to enter a cocoon and also gives you an opportunity to make yourself vulnerable by baring your soul. And it is at these moments that you look into your soul and as you give a glance to the life that you have lived and the path you have travelled, you come across a lot of people you want to thank and you come across a lot of people you want to thrash. Fortunately, I belong to the group of people who have more entries in the former category.

Family members obviously occupy the top positions (which they have to) and as you come a bit down to the section of friends, you look at the list and wonder why the hell they did everything that they ever did for you.

This post is for one such friend of mine who, to my utmost happiness, occupies a position above all my family members. And to underline his value, my life requires a rewind.

****

When I started attending school as a kindergarten kid, making a huge fuss every morning all the way from my home to my school and then creating a ruckus at my school gate not willing to enter the school compound but was forcibly taken inside by our school security guard, there was only one person I liked in my entire school then – My kindergarten class teacher! I never really spoke with anyone at class and whenever I opened my mouth, the words were meant only for my class teacher.

Two grades later, I opened up a bit and within the blink of an eye, I became part of a gang of two girls and three boys. It was an age where unwanted fears had not begun filling up our minds or for that matter, our parent’s minds and we spent most of the time pinching each other, hitting one another and when opportunities presented themselves, even biting one another. We did not have relationship problems or parental misunderstandings to share back then and we were content with sharing our woes of an eraser gone missing or an action figure broken by accident.

Slowly as life moved forward and our trousers got replaced by pants, I found myself among a new set of people with my older gang disintegrating with the departure of two friends from our school. And the new gang no less fun than the older one, was a bit different as we had not only started attaining maturity at a physical level but also at an emotional level. Still, the movie-discussions-in-whispers during class hours, consoling one another for marks less scored in unit tests, teasing one another with very silly names like ‘mulla-mandri’ for instance and my most favourite – pulling the white ribbon tied to the well-folded hair of my very dear friend and earning the flaming furious look from her as she tied it again – all these made up my every single day of those pre-teen years of schooling.

About 3 years later, after we had had our first experience of a board exam, I found myself in a completely different surrounding. The occasional weekend visit to friends’ homes, visiting the movie theatre at least thrice a month, making fun of every girl that passed by, entering every shop in a mall and exiting it hours later empty-handed, standing at the KFC and McD counters and emptying our purses to find that we were four or five rupees short of paying the bill, taking very personally every attack on any of our friends by other students – we were a gang which represented any typical school gang of North Chennai. There was no place for girls but whenever any guy from our gang even slightly developed a liking for a girl, we made sure that the girl never ever spoke to the guy again – we were that good a set of friends.

And as things kept going at a breakneck speed, everything came to a sudden halt as I found myself leaving to an unknown town 300 kilometres away from Chennai to pursue my B.Tech degree, leaving every single friend of mine behind, however close they were at that time. I entered college not knowing whether I would get a set of friends as good as the ones at school (just like any other boy/girl) and was surprised to find a more fascinating and amazing set of friends (just like any other boy/girl). The journey with my new set of friends hasn’t ended and I wish that it would never end though the bunks and the canteen-lunches and the long-hours-of-useless-chats would end next year.

****

I wondered for a moment after I typed the above part as to whether I was typing a piece about my friend or a piece about myself and my journey till college. But I know that the above part is important to understand the value of this guy in my life.

This guy never belonged to any of those gangs I mentioned above.

He was never a part of my first gang where we were all united by our innocence. He was never a part of my second gang where we were all united by our adolescence. He was never a part of my third gang where we were all united by our ebullience. And at present, he is not a part of my college gang where we are all united by our benevolence.

But he has been the most important person in my life ever since he walked into my fifth grade class at school, 10 years back.

The two of us were (and still are) never really the type to hang out together. A few days back when I had gone home, I searched all the folders in my laptop, my desktop computer and all over my entire photo collection for photos that had just the two of us. And the number of photographs I found out as a result of our 10 year long friendship – One!

Most of my cherished memories of school life are filled with lots of friends and this guy never really is in prominence in any of those memories. But not once do I think about school without remembering his face.

We have had fights. We have had arguments - some very long ones and some very silly ones. We have had several misunderstandings. And we have had long periods of time when we have never really spoken to each other. But whatever might have been the case, one text message would suffice and we would get back on track.

Whenever I face a crisis in my life, he is the first person I text to. Whenever I finish writing a story, he is the first person I mail to. Whenever I come across an appreciation or a laurel or a moment worth remembering, he is the first person I share it with.

I have thought about it often and have dismissed it as a possible proof for the ‘opposite poles attract’ law but for some reason, most of the friends in my friend-circle have exactly contrasting opinions, in comparison to me, with respect to most of the things – films, books, science and life in general. Though this would seem great most of the time for it would start a lot of debates, there have been many a time where I have wanted to share something intellectual or discuss rather than debate about art or sometimes even love and if there is someone I turned to in the past or would still turn to among my friends at these situations, it would definitely be this guy.

Whenever you share a few incidents from your life to other people, they start judging you and they start jumping to conclusions about who you are with the very few details they know about you. And this is one reason that I love this guy because he is someone who never ever judges me even for a moment though he is the only guy – the only person – who knows everything there is to know about me, be it on the academic side or the artistic side or the familial side or the romantic side.

A writer fails whenever he admits that he is unable to describe a particular moment or a feeling or a relationship for that matter. And I keep failing every time I try to describe our friendship.

How could you possibly describe a friendship between two friends where the two friends rarely hang out with one another but know everything there is to know about one another’s life?

How could you possibly describe a friendship between two friends where the two friends have their own close group of friends but whenever they want to share something very personally, resort to one another?

I couldn’t. And I also wouldn’t. I know that I would be failing as a writer but I wouldn’t care because for ten years, I have won as a friend.

Today, for his 22nd birthday, I decided that I would write a long and heart-wrenching piece about him and post it at midnight. As I started typing, I realized one thing – He has been the most difficult topic I have ever written on. I was under the assumption that words would flow like a river on its way to the sea but it has not been so. It has taken me 4 long hours to write this very simple piece. I wondered why.

And I got the answer as I read the piece again. I found that it did not have any interesting plot to hold one’s attention. I found that it did not have any exaggeration or fictionalization to make it entertaining. I found that this has been the most ordinary piece I have written till now, not offering any emotional feeling to the reader, be it a smile or a tear or a tinge of anger. And as I wondered again as to why this was so, I got the answer.

This has been one of the most honest pieces (third most honest, to be exact) of writing I have written till now.

And I felt happy when I realized it. I also felt happy when I read this piece again because it exactly represents our friendship – simple yet solid, ordinary yet emotional, boring yet absorbing and most importantly, honest and heartfelt.

My dear friend, I don’t know where you would rank this among all the other gifts I have given you. But to me, this is the truest and the purest gift from my side.

Hope you liked it!

And of course, Happy Birthday!

P.S.: I have already mentioned it once in the piece but I need to say it again. As I proof-read the piece, to my horrifying surprise, I found that the piece contains more lines about me than about you to whom this piece is dedicated to. I guess I made a mistake. I decided to write about you and ended up writing more about myself. Perhaps, for my birthday, I will try writing about myself. I am sure it would contain more lines about you!! 

O Captain! My Captain!

To my dear captain Robin Williams,

I have been astonished by Robert de Niro's dedication. I have been fascinated by Morgan Freeman's underplayed portrayals. I have been dumbfounded by Sean Penn's versatility. But never have I respected or revered an actor more than you in all these years that I have spent watching innumerable films.

You might not be considered to be as serious an actor as Al Pacino or Robert deNiro. You might not have won three Academy awards as Daniel Day Lewis did. But you are one actor without whom Hollywood would have had a very large void (like it has now) and you are one artist without whom this world would have been less cheerful (like it is now).

But I am no way qualified to talk about your laurels or your achievements. All I could possibly do is pour out how much you, through your films, have changed my life.

Patch Adams, I would say, is one of your most underrated films. 

Many people have the occurrences of certain incidents that bring about a change in their lives. But a very simple dialogue of yours in the film, as you address the Medical Board brought about a very drastic change in my life. 

"What is wrong with death sir? What are we so mortally afraid of? Why can't we treat death with a certain amount of dignity and integrity and decency and God forbid, even humor. Death is not the enemy gentlemen. If we are gonna fight a disease, lets fight one of the most terrible diseases of all - Indifference.
Every human being has an impact on another. Why don't we want that in a patient-doctor relationship? When you treat a disease - you win, you lose. But when you treat a person, you win, no matter what is the outcome!"

Being at a point in life when a romantic partner seemed more necessary than the happenings in the outer world, this dialogue and every statement before and after this, struck me like a lightning. I was not a doctor but I did not have to be one to understand what real love meant. I realized the mistake I was doing trying to focus all my love towards one person when there were hundreds and thousands who begged for an ounce of care. If not for this great film, I would have still remained a very selfish person who cared only about himself and his own welfare. I might have even possibly entered in a relationship but I would never have got the irreplaceable memories of playing with many of God's forsaken angels. 

I thank you for that.

Dead Poet's Society - Of the several reasons that led me to take up writing seriously, this film of yours is one that is very important.

"We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. Medicine, law, business, engineering - these are noble pursuits and are necessary to sustain life. But poetry - beauty, romance, love - these are what we stay alive for. 
To quote from Whitman: O me, O life of the questions of these recurring. Of the endless trains of the faithless.Of cities filled with the foolish. What good amid these, O me, O life?
Answer: That you are here. That life exists and identity. That the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. That the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be?"

This memorable scene and every word you utter in this scene shook me up from my very long slumber and pushed me ahead to contribute a verse to this ever-expanding universal poem of life. The life I started leading - filled with meaning and passion - starkly different to the purposeless and mundane life I had been leading, was a result of every single statement of yours from this timeless epic. 

I thank you for that.

Good Will Hunting - A film which taught me that experience was more important than imagination and living was more important than dreaming.

"Now, if I probably ask you about war, you would probably throw Shakespeare at me, right? 'Once more into the breach, dear friends!' But you have never been near one. You have never held your best friend's head in your lap and watch him gasp his last breath, looking at you for hope. If I ask you about love, you would probably quote me a sonnet. But you have never looked at a woman and been totally vulnerable. You have never come across a woman who could level you with her eyes. 
You are an orphan, right? Do you think I would know the first thing about how hard your life has been, how you feel just because I have read Oliver Twist? I can't learn anything about you that I can read in some f***ing book! "

There was a time I thought I could understand the human race and its happenings from the countless books available. But you changed my mind. And I stopped reading. 
I started living.  
And I understood.
Standing at a mountain cliff and looking down below could only be experienced. Holding an orphan child and watching it laugh without a care in the world could only be experienced. Sitting besides an old helpless woman and patiently listen to her cheerfully recalling her adolescent days could only be experienced. 

I thank you for that. 

Good Morning, Vietnam - A film that showed me entertaining people and making them smile was important, even if it sometimes came at the cost of your otherwise-useless pride.
Mrs. Doubtfire - A film that showed me what sacrifice really meant.
Awakenings - A film that showed me what perseverance really meant.
And the list would go on and on.

I read today about various actors, filmmakers and comedians paying tributes to you, mentioning how much you had touched upon their lives and the life of every single person around you, both as a comic artist and as an actor. 

I just want you to know that of the lives of thousands you touched upon with your gentle soul, this 20 year old boy from India is also one.

I read in the reports that you had encountered asphyxiation and the reports claimed that it was a suicide that you had committed.
But don't you worry, my captain, about the rubbish reports that might try to portray you a coward unable to survive depression.

Because they would never know how courageous a man you were!
They would never understand the courage required to make oneself a clown and entertain people!
They would never understand the courage required to cover one's miseries to make a million people smile!
And they would definitely never understand the courage required to love every single person equally and selflessly!

After I glanced upon the headline - "Robin Williams dead" - today morning, my heart skipped many a beat. And as I looked at the picture that accompanied the report - the 'park scene' from Good Will Hunting - I couldn't control the tears that flowed down.
But I quickly wiped them and consoled myself.

I decided firmly that I would not cry. Because if I cried, you would have failed in your purpose of making everyone smile.

And so, my dear captain, I am not going to cry. I am not going to allow the fact that you are dead to register in my head. Instead, I am going to try to smile watching your countless memorable scenes from your extraordinary films. And I am going to live my entire life in the warmth of those scenes.

They would suffice till the day when I would meet you up there at Heaven (I pray that it exists at least for your sake), probably and possibly if I toil hard my entire life trying to be at least one percent the person you were.

Leg-less ghosts, Einstein and Genomics

"Whoa! How big a lock hanging from the door! What would probably happen if I hit the examiner on his head with it?"
"How could someone possibly carry a pink colored bag?"
"What would be the dinner at the hostel mess today? Try remembering from the menu! Try hard!"
"How could Nazriya agree to marry someone like Fahad though he is a good actor? She definitely deserves someone younger and with more hair, perhaps!"
"Wow! The girl sitting nearby seems to be good at drawing. She also seems good looking. Why don't I borrow her eraser? I could return it with a smile and start up a conversation later probably. Do it! Don't do it! Do it! No! Do it! What would she think? It's just an eraser! Do it! No! Do it! Oh darn! She has completed the exam!"

These were a few among the hundred thoughts that were occupying my mind as I sat in the exam hall today, completely clueless to the bullet that had been fired at me in the form of 'Genomics and Proteomics' question paper.

I generally find many people panicking the moment they realise that they are not aware of the answers for the questions asked in the question paper. I honestly find this reaction of people baffling. It might sound weird but my happiest moment after receiving any question paper would definitely be the moment when I realise that I don't know most of the questions, let alone answers, that have been asked in the question paper which occurs very often in my case. 

The reason I get excited - I can think about anything I want in the exam hall, without a single person questioning me, because exam halls are meant for that, aren't they? 

Normally, at any other place, when I keep staring pointlessly thinking about some random thought, people always question me as to what I am thinking about. And when I reply that it is just some useless thought, they never agree. Should a person always think only meaningful thoughts? Most of the thoughts that crowd my head are completely random and meaningless. And I enjoy it most of the time. Thinking about Samantha and moving to Siddharth and travelling to Surya's 'Michael' via Aayutha Ezhuthu and jumping to a student revolution in the political arena and reaching communism to finally end at Che Guevara - doesn't the train ride of the mind seem fascinating?

A similar train of thought blew my mind as I sat in the exam hall today. As I looked at the question - 'Explain in detail about the human genome and its contents' - my mind began to wander imagining how I would feel if I came to know about the diseases that I would be facing 20 years later if my genome sequence could be completely examined and analysed. And for some inexplicable reason, my thought process shifted to AIDS (completely weird, right?) and as I kept thinking about AIDS, the train automatically reached the station of Matthew McConaughey. As a few scenes of his fantastic acting as an AIDS affected electrician in Dallas Buyers Club ran past my mind, 'True Detective' stuck me like a lighting bolt. And as I kept recollecting some of Matthew McConaughey's thought-provoking dialogues in the series, the thoughts came to a halt at the 'M-Brane theory' explained by him in a fabulous scene. For a few minutes as my mind kept circling round and round the 'M-Brane theory', it suddenly took a leap to the 'Superstring theory' and as I thought about the 4 fundamental forces, the thought process gradually shifted to the 'Space-Time continuum' and Einstein's statement hit me - "Gravity is the glitch in the space-time continuum". As the statement kept reverberating, along came Matthew McConaughey's dialogue from the series - "Souls in the other dimension generally see time as a flattened parameter and not a linear one as it is supposed to be" and as these two statements combined along with the Space-Time continuum and the Superstring theory, an unexpected revelation hit me. If gravity was the glitch in the Space-Time continuum and souls in the other dimension could view time as a flattened parameter, could the Space-time conundrum be resolved probably for the other dimension and most importantly, was the 'gravity-glitch-in-the-continuum' the reason behind our Tamil filmmakers showing ghosts without legs in most of the horror films??!!!!

My mind went blank for a moment. And as the thoughts started crowding again, I thought about the revelation I had had and thought about its magnitude. After a moment of self-appreciation, I couldn't help but let out a hearty laugh. What a scientific explanation for the 'ghosts-without-legs' phenomenon!

And as I controlled myself from laughing out loud in the exam hall, I looked down at my answer sheet. It was filled up to halfway with an answer for a two-mark question. I read the answer I had written. And I couldn't control myself from letting out a chuckle.
The answer seemed absurd than my thought process!
For a moment I thought about how my professor would feel when he corrected my answer sheet and an endearing warmth filled my heart.

And I placed my pen on the answer sheet to write down another absurd answer. But I stopped. Who cared about the answer? 
I started my thought process again. I wanted to see if I could probably get the answer as to why Tamil filmmakers placed a mole on the actor's face when they wanted him in disguise!

The thought process is still in motion.

The Marina breeze

It was the first visit to the beach for the breeze

Having always been blowing over the faces of forlorn sailors

And soothing the occasional dolphins that jumped out in delight

And having helped seagulls fly island after island

This was the first time in months it was visiting land

And with uncontrollable delight the breeze raced past the waves

And landed at the shore of the Marina beach!

It was stupefied for a moment

Looking at the sea of people it saw, larger than the Marina

But it quickly cheered itself

The more the people, the more happiness it could spread...

And as it slowly searched for its first encounter,

Its glance fell upon a bunch of three girls building a sand castle!

Clad in brightly colored skirts,

Heads adorned with little jasmine flowers

They were filling their tiny hands full of sand

And were building their own castle on the path of becoming princesses..

Seeing this, the breeze grinned

Who would be better suited to be blown upon by it than these darlings?

And it blew across them, carrying the scent of the jasmine with it

But blowing apart their carefully built castle

Making one of the girls cry, as two others sat down dejected!

Greatly saddened by its act, the breeze slowly searched around...

His two fingers were slowly playing hide and seek with hers

Their chuckles, as their fingers met, adding to their bonding

And slowly his fingers encircled hers and her smile subsided

A tinge of fear and her eyes looked around, telling him of their presence

Amongst hundreds of unknown strangers 

But he didn't care, he was a man, after all

And pulling her closer, as she blushed, he smiled a wicked smile

Filled with unbridled romance...

Why not add an artist's touch to the romance?

The breeze thought and blew in their direction..

As the man bent forward, the girl pulled herself back suddenly

Her eyes flickering constantly like a dying bulb

Sand grains had been blown into her eyes

And she began rubbing her eyes

Leaving the man punch his fist in the sand

Shouting, "Of all moments, should the breeze blow only now?!"

The breeze had always loved love

And so now, it was heart-broken by what it had done

But it was not going to give up!

Standing behind a row of oil dripping bajji's

Sentenced to death by hanging

She stood, her hands dipped in the flour, shouting

About the price of the bajji, to a customer..

Finally as the customer paid up, she took out the chilly fully covered by flour

And lowered it slowly into the burning oil

Like a ship lowered for it's first ride in the sea

And as the group of chillies swam in the oil

Like a school of golden fish

She pulled out the saree fold inserted in her waist

And wiped the sweat on her forehead...

Filled with enthusiasm, the breeze blew

With the good intention of comforting a woman in perspiration

But alas! As it crossed her shop, it was met with her loud shout

"Intha paazhaa ponna kaathu elaa bajji'yum aara vechiruthu!!"

(This breeze cools down every bajji that is hot!)

What did I do wrong?

The breeze thought to itself and slowly loitered around

Filled with sorrow, when it caught sight of them!

Their skin dark but their faces bright

Their attire poor but their smiles rich

Their bodies small but their hearts big

Were playing a gang of boys

Deftly tugging at the strings of their kites

Running around the beach without a care

Sharing their joy and merry to everyone around...

There could come possibly no harm with these boys

It would only add to their celebrations

Thought the breeze and blew their way

Turning and twisting as it passed their kites

But slowly it stopped as it found the shouts of the boys faint 

And as it looked at the grim faces of the boys staring up

It looked at the havoc it had caused

The strings of the kites had entwined themselves with one another

Tangled like Rapunzel's hair!

Devastated to the most, the breeze blew towards the shore

Deciding to return to the ocean!

But it was then it saw the old man

Walking slowly, taking care that nothing lay on his way

Waving his hand to anyone who passed by

His face lit up by a young smile

And his eyes winking at any old lady who crossed him

To their utter shock and to his utter delight...

The breeze felt rejuvenated looking at this and it swiftly blew

But as it touched his bespectacled face,

The old man quickly raised his face upwards,

His nose slightly tingling, his eyelids automatically closing

And finally it happened - a loud sneeze!

"No one needs me. No one feels happy when I blow. I am useless!"

The breeze told itself and started its journey back to the shore

As it reached the waves rushing back to the ocean

It turned and looked once again at the people on the shore

Sadness was all it felt

And telling the waves that it understood now

Why they never stayed on the shore but returned immediately

It accompanied them back to the ocean!

About 10 minutes later,

As the sun slowly paved way for the moon

As the birds returned in flocks to their nests

As the families started readying themselves to leave

As the shopkeepers turned on the lights at their shops

Was heard a voice on the shore

With a tinge of melancholy,

"You can't find a breeze blowing even at the beach nowadays!"