You and I

I recall our past and I predict our future
My imaginations are clearer than my memories
Perhaps our future resembles a sad song
Their lyrics are easier to remember than the lines of a happy song..
Who were you and I?
Who will we be?
I was a leaking fountain pen smiling at you, my half-filled ink bottle
I will be an overused toothbrush longing for you, my flattened out toothpaste
I was a half-bitten eraser caring for you, my uneven pencil stroke
I will be a broken lock looking out for you, my lost key
I was a punctured tire kissing you, my empty dead-end road
I will be an ineffective malware multiplying for you, my uninstalled antivirus
I was an unwilling raindrop falling for you, my hole-filled umbrella
I will be a damaged brain aching for you, my obsolete X-ray machine
I was a forced smile showing up for you, my silent single teardrop
I will be a friendless childhood waiting for you, my loveless adulthood
Who were you and I?
Who will we be?
We were always meant to be together
Not for our purposes, only for our affection
But we are yet to be understood
Like a comedian's pain, like a celebrity's loneliness
Let us wait for our time
Let us wait for my predicted future
I see it clearer than our past
I will become a slow suicide uniting with you, my premature birth.

Understanding old age - II

After the visit of any family friend or relative to my home, a sweet box would rest at the center of the dining table as a token of their love. My mom and I would stand waiting for the disappearance of the guest beyond the main gate of the apartment after which, we would immediately pounce upon the sweet box. Irrespective of the kind of the sweet, there would always be a fight. And the fights only worsened if the sweets were either rasgullas or kaju katlis.
"You are a mother! You should sacrifice for your son - not snatch from him" I would shout. "I am a mother who has raised her son to be independent. So get your own sweet" she would retort and hurriedly stuff a sweet in her mouth.
A cold-war atmosphere would prevail at home till the sweet box turned empty. The sweets would go decreasing in number but either of us would not know when the other person ate the sweets in question. The most important mission would always be the final sweet - Achieving victory would mean fooling the other person with a closed-and-intact empty sweet box.

During my visit to home last weekend, I noticed a sweet box, filled with assorted milk sweets, resting on the dining table. The day progressed but I did not find the sweets go missing. 
Tea time arrived. I opened the sweet box declaring direct war. My mom responded with a smile and walked to the kitchen, returning with a plastic container. She sat down with her tea cup and opened the container. Out came a Vita Marie Gold biscuit packet. I threw a nasty look at her. Noticing my look, she explained, "The doctor has advised me against having sweets". 
I threw a nastier look and pushed the sweet box towards her. She refused. 
For what maybe the first time in my life, I could not finish the sweet I was eating and placed the rest of the sweet in the sweet box and closed it. "Don't try to act emotional. Just go ahead and have that sweet", my mom teased me. I threw the nastiest look possible and snatched a biscuit from her hand. 
The half-eaten sweet did not matter anymore because it had never been about the sweet.

I had always fought with my mom over a sweet or a chocolate without foreseeing that a day would come when our food habits would start differing.
No matter how close a friend a mother stays, time always has the knack of hitting you on your head and making you realize that she is eventually a mother.

The actionless thoughts

The event described below happened two weeks ago. The delay in putting it into words is another example of the title of this post.

One late night, my friend and I were roaming the streets of Bangalore, discussing about life in general and our future lives in particular. Many security guards, having arrived for their night shifts, were brimming with enthusiasm. Maybe some of them expected some action in the form of a masked robber and maybe some of them just wanted another peaceful night. The cars and trucks were speeding on the roads, racing against time and themselves, to reach their destinations faster. 

One such car, in its pursuit of an invisible racing trophy, ran over a dog before our eyes. And the car continued ahead, after its deathly punch, not caring to stop for a second. The dog could have very well been a polythene cover.

Unlike policemen or justice-seeking-citizens, my friend and I did not care about the perpetrator of the crime. We were a part of the family-loving, peace-filled-community-seeking common man crowd and hence, our concern was directed only towards the victim.

We ran towards the dog with no clear plan-of-action in our minds. As soon as we reached it, we noticed that blood had started oozing out of its mouth. The sight of the slow formation of a blood pool behind the dog’s face drastically weakened our wills.

“We cannot let the dog lie here - in the middle of the road” my friend told me. I nodded and looked at the dog again. I could no more see a dog. I could only see an object lying over a pool of blood. I looked at my friend, wanting to absorb courage from him but I noticed that he was also being tormented by the blood.

“Let us ask for help” I told my friend and started looking around for someone more courageous than the two of us. There were a few security guards visible at a distance but they seemed uninterested. A few minutes later, a man came walking in our direction but we realized that he was too drunk to understand the situation.

As my friend and I stood by the pavement, unable to take an action, we saw a truck speeding towards the dead dog. My heart skipped a beat realizing the possible outcome and I was about to signal the truck driver that a dog lay on the road. But the driver realized it himself and steered the truck so as to ensure that the dog did not come under its wheels. And the truck continued ahead. I could not believe it. Did the truck driver not care about the dog that lay there bleeding?

Soon, car after car and truck after truck passed the dog, ensuring that it was not run over by them, but not a single person cared to stop.

“I will try calling the Blue Cross” my friend said and dialed the toll free number. No success. He tried again. No success.

The two of us stood there looking at each other. We did not want to let the dog lie in the middle of the road but we did not have the strength to lift it from its pool of blood.

“We cannot do anything. Let’s walk away before we see another vehicle destroying the dog” I told my friend. “But we cannot just let it lie there” my friend shouted. “Do you think you will be able to lift it?” I asked him. He could not answer. “Then let’s just go” I told him. “This is so wrong…” my friend declared, kicking the ground beneath him. He then started walking towards the direction of my flat. I silently followed him.

An hour later, as I lay on my bed with darkness surrounding me, I could imagine the bleeding dog getting run over by other vehicles. 

“You could have at least placed stones around the dog, letting them act like barriers” told a voice inside me. “All you had to do was to lift the dog and place it on the pavement – just 5 seconds of courage” told another voice. “Stop beating yourself up. You tried your best. You were better than many others who did not even care” told another voice. I agreed with the third voice before feeling ashamed of it.

Are thoughts enough to express one’s compassion? Are thoughts enough to make the society or this world a better place? If it had been so, the countless prayers all over the world should have already made it a paradise.

Noble thoughts suffice only for the self-affirmation of one’s goodness but without their transformation into actions, they do not bring about a difference.

Wishing well for a victim inside an ambulance is definitely selfless but what difference would it make if I stood stationary on the side lines as the ambulance got stuck amidst impatient vehicles?

Dropping a ten rupee note inside a NGO’s ‘donation box’ placed at a supermarket's bill counter is commendable but what difference would it make if the son of my maid servant is left longing for education?

Wanting to help a dog die with dignity is great but what difference would it make if I could not muster up enough courage to perform the act and gave up on it blaming a selfish society?

As I pondered upon these questions, I was reminded of an earlier post. It hurt me to realize that the writer had improved but not the human being.

I badly wished it had been the other way. 

And I also realized that just wishing made no difference.