days of decay - sample

7/30/2019 Days of Decay - sample

1/30

[Descent into Darkness] | Raj Kamal Bisht

[TYPETHECOMPAN

YNAME]

DAYSOFDECAY


2/30

Raj Kamal Bisht

from the banks of a mighty river,

along the land far east,

will rise an hero,

who will plunge to darkness,

the world many times over.

- Nostradamus 06:12

Days of Decay 2012 Page 2


3/30

Raj Kamal Bisht

the end

They say that you get to know how much you are loved only when you die, for how many

people come and mourn at your funeral measures the impact you made and the void you left.

But it's not the complete truth though, for they don't talk about the people who die when you die,or people who silently watch from a distance, neither they talk about the people who curl

themselves in the dark corner of their bedrooms and sob quietly.

And how unfortunate I was, to be robbed-off of even the last pyres that one is entitled to,

I probably rotted in the deep trenches of west pacific or was feasted upon by the great white

sharks or who knows carried to the icy pole by the north current to remain frozen forever. And

so there was no official service, nobody gathered, people whoever they were, sniveled in the

seclusion of their sanctuaries. I recount as I saw it, there was my mother, who shed a tear,

probably for the first time she felt me, my father acted numb, a continuance of his pretentious

existence, my sister Mihika lost it all for I was her only family, Ihita broke down, unable to bear

any further the atrocities of fate, Vairagi laughed as usual but there was a certain sadness to it,Niyati lived to see the day, only one of us could have survived, but her existence was

meaningless, for she failed in her objective, and there was the world which sighed in peace, for

the song of destruction, just fizzled away.

What about friends? People who masquerade as your well wishers, people who use

hypocrisy as a shield and as a sword. He was a good man, that's all the sycophants said. The

college had its own special way of mourning, dean declared the holiday, and the students

celebrated. I watched everything, I watched as my life folded into a cube of molecular dimension

and I couldn't help but wonder what I would do differently if I had the second chance.

How much affect does love has on the life of a common fly? Does love has a meaning

beyond the shallowness of greed and fear? Selfishness hiding in the charades of love, hatred

just wanting an excuse to come out.If somebody had to take the blame for my death, it would be the institution, for it filled me

with the desires and sparked the dreams inside. I couldn't see my life lied somewhere else, my

ego couldn't see the people who cared, I just saw the empty hope of a shining future that time

promised me. With open arms I embraced the shackles, and in no time I found myself enclosed

in a shell, a blanket of cocoon wrapped over me, I could move but within the limits of a mould.

To begin with I was never opposed to the idea of the institution or the society, but nor I

had been in favor of it. Is there really such a thing as society outside the barriers of our minds?

Does or can a free will exist under such authoritarian regime? Institution - a self imposed

totalitarian government? A set of moral obligations defined by the norms of society that goes

against the individual's own happiness. Why to bear unbearable pain and why to go to painful

lengths to appease someone we don't know? to get the validation of people who blatantly pass

judgments, who are they to say who's worthy and whos not? Who are they to tell us what is

wrong and what is right? Just Who Are They? Who shovel down our throats clumps of fast

food? Who makes us think we are beautiful and we are ugly? What is beautiful and ugly

anyway? What is aesthetics anyway? Who makes us want something that we dont need? fancy

apparels, a television, a telephone, a motorcar, an apartment? Can't the self-fulfillment be



4/30

Raj Kamal Bisht

achieved without the ugly toys? Just why? Who is that cloaks us behind the endless layers of

consumerism and makes us hate ourselves for not living upto 'his' standards?

I want to change, I want to correct what has been wronged and that too who has been

doing the wrong, if only I had a second chance...

the death

The tremor intensifies. I am shaken-off my sleep with a repetitious cry. Sir, Sir the lady

repeats as politely as she could. Sir, please wear the seat-belt, sir, we are experiencing minor

turbulence. She says shaking my arms. I look at her wearily, coming out of the slumber.

Dont worry sir, this is absolutely normal Stewardess adds, hiding her anxiety. This was

no normal, this was in-fact far from normal. One more jerk, the oxygen masks drops-off, and

with that comes a disturbance on the speakers, announces the co-pilot in a voice balanced and

monotone, Hello passengers this is your captain speaking, we are having little trouble on-

board, please hold your air masks to your mouth, and be patient, we will be back to normalcy

very soon. Several minutes pass-by, the situation only deteriorates, and many anxious breaths

later, co-pilot enters the passenger cabin. He announces, as he struggles to remain calm:

There is a bad news we have Pauses. The plane has lost one engine, and is losing

altitude. I advice everyone not to panic, we are trying our best to land safely, please be alert and

follow the instructions carefully that we announce. He tries to sound as calm as possible but the

hidden despair is evident. I get up from my seat, in a moment of impulsiveness I lose myself,

without prudence I proceed. From where I am seated I could see strands of her hair, flowing,

toward the back of the seat and glistening red in the dim light. I stare her, eye to eye, for a

moment I am silent. She stares me back with an equal intensity. And I begin, sounding as

serious (and crazy) as I could:I lived a large part of my life in greed and fear, and in ambition and in vanity. Even

though I was surrounded by plenty, I was alone. I laughed but to please someone, I cried but for

pretentious empathy. There was no one I could turn to in sorrow; there was no one I could share

the joy with. I never experienced the inner happiness, I never experienced love my whole life,

even though I met many, I had been devoid of such an emotional bliss. And though we barely

know each other-

I feel a certain pull like I have always known you. She completes.

I dont understand my feeling toward you, perhaps its love, perhaps its just a

momentous attraction. But whatever you choose to call it, or you deny it wholeheartedly, for me

its elation. Probably, in few minutes we are going to die; but when we die, I want to go down

with the feeling of being loved, being lived - contentedly, and joyously. And if I had a choice and

if I were to live my life over Id always want to be with you

I pause for a moment for her reaction. And before I could say anything further, she

extends her hand toward me,

Its too late now, you had the chance but you let it slip away, remember this is the

choice you made and you now have to bear the consequences



5/30

Raj Kamal Bisht

She pulls back her hand out of my grip, and the plane wobbles, a big jerk thrusts me

sideways, pushing away, I topple on my feet and my head hits against the metal of the

passenger seat. I look at her for one last time, as my eyes closes down - slowly she dissolves in

the air, atom by atom. Did I know her? Whatwas she? I feel an eerie thought encompassing me

over. A star falls out of the deep blue sky, the plain nosedives toward the boundless oceans;

and I begin my descent down the dark, hopeless abyss.



6/30

Raj Kamal Bisht

Trap



7/30

Raj Kamal Bisht

In the hazy grey twilight, I look back, dried lands, dead soldiers, purple horizons; the day

has ended, and the darkness falls. I remember how it all began when I got suspended from the

college and the unusual circumstances that led to it, just in the matter of ten days my life turned

upside down; and this is how it happened -

Double or Nothing

The chalk hits me on the head. I wake up in the midst of unknown faces, dazed and

confused, async with the reality. The old professor decides to make an example of me.

Trembling with anger, he shouts. Get out of my class I look into his eyes and he confirms

Now!

I pick up my notebook, a conglomeration of loose sheets bound together in the middle

with a big staple, I turn to look at the saggy faces, I have been sitting among dead beings; I walk

out in pity, slamming the door behind me.

"What? Are you out of your goddamn mind?" Raul shouts.

"I am confident, I have a feeling about it" I reply.

We are standing in JJ's, a snooker club, with neck deep in debt. Well, we have been

losing for past three days, I guess that's got to amount to something.

"You just took one shot" Raul shouts.

"He is playing us" Siddhant replies calmly.

"Don't support him, it's all you fault to begin with" Raul says.

"Who's idea was it?" Siddhant hits back."Guys, guys. Calm down, I can feel the game inside me, let me just play now" I bend

down to take the strike.

Few days earlier, on an idle Monday evening at Tehri, in Raul's dorm room -

It's a small room packed with books and CDs. Siddhant and Raul are lying on a single

bed, which as a matter of fact can barely take the combined weight of two, it's not their fault

though, the bed is weak. I am browsing through his CD collection, looking for something

interesting.

"You have to put an end to it"

"I just can't-" Siddhant says squeezing his teeth hard "can't stop myself"

"It's like taking cigarette or doing pot" "Once you are in, it's difficult to get out"

"Difficult! Certainly, but not impossible" I quip.

Siddhant Kukreti, more and more I look at his physical characteristics more and more I

am convinced he is molded out from an entirely different mold. He has long elongated fluffy face

as if someone has filled in moist air from inside, big poky nose, a square jaw, and he is tall, tall

like 5'8'' feet tall. His hair are charcoal dark with small curls. His mannerism though not awkward

but still borders on funniness. He usually wears his light grey trousers, both on and off campus,



8/30

Raj Kamal Bisht

even on weekends he wouldn't wear casuals, just the same uniform, I am afraid he is afraid of

looking casual.

"What do I do? How do I get rid of this?" "I just can't stop thinking about snookers"

"Do you realize how much time you are wasting in there?" "and not to mention the

money"

Siddhant shrugs at his helpless. "Then do something, help me" An uneasy silenceenvelopes the room. I put the CD labeled Purple Death in the CD-ROM of the system, but the

only music that comes out is of the CD whirling inside the ROM. "Hold on" Raul says, and gets

up from the bed.

He slides out the side cover of the system and connects a wire, "now it will play" He

says. A soft music begins to play. 'What is this? Shakespeares missing sonnet?' I mumble.

"There is a way" Raul says, "Do you remember the law of diminishing return?"

"Organization Behavior?" I reply.

"Yes, essentially it means we love doing something because we derive a value out of it,

and so inversely, no value means no interest" "And after a certain point, say breaking point, the

value starts decreasing" "Clearly this is not yet happened with Siddhant"

"We have to hit the breaking point" Siddhant concludes.

"Yes, the breaking point, we have to saturate you" Raul says excitedly, rising up from the

bed. "So-" Raul adds, Siddhant and I look at each other, "let's play pool, till he gets completely

over it"

Play pool to stop pool, it seemed logical, but there was one catch -

"What is the guarantee that you guys will not end up falling into the same trap? and

become one like me?"

"That's the risk we have to take" Raul replies dramatically.

Back at JJs, but earlier -

"What are the rules?" I ask."Huh?" Siddhant asks.

"Rules?" I repeat. "I want to play" He briefs me in short, what and how to stick it in, it was

nothing that I didn't observe myself. "That's what I already saw" I say.

"That's about it" Siddhant replies. What I understood about game of pool is, it is like a

carrom played on a table with sticks"

"Whats the bet?" The guy in black leather pants ask. "The usual five hundred?"

Siddhant hesitates. "Hundr-" He begins to say, but I interrupt.

"I say double or nothing"

"Don't fool around" Siddhant says.

I repeat with an open arm gesture , "Double or nothing, simple"

The guy gives me a stern look and replies, "Let's play"

"What? Are you out of your goddamn mind? Raul shouts.

Now -

"If you pull it off, I swear I'll not touch the sticks again"

I position myself at the table and strike! Two solids find their way in the pocket, "So we

take out the solid" Siddhant says.



9/30

Raj Kamal Bisht

We played best of three, and in exact fifteen minutes the game is over, and we walk out

debt free, and Siddhant pool free.

"How did you do you it?" Siddhant asks.

"He obviously was a state champion, he just didnt tell us" Raul replies.

"No, God swear, I played for the first time"

"What do you think we are, jokers, idiots?" Raul snaps."Well, believe it or not I am telling you the truth" I reply dryly.

It indeed was the first time I played the game, but it was not the first time I excelled at

something in the very first attempt, I guess it's just in my genes, not from my father surely, but

it's just there.

~~~

I pick up my notebook, stuck between the other-side of the bed and the wall. Dusting it

off, putting it under my arm, I pick up the pen from the study table and put it in my shirt pocket. I

leave for the college. My mom is not home, cold and insipid breakfast is left on the table, my

father is busy watching hockey reruns, my sister still sleeping. She excuses herself from school

time to time, pressure is too much she says. I run my fingers through her entwined hair, and

mash them gently. Often I'd sneak up on her when she's sleeping, her face fresh like a rose

petal in the mornings, and her body curled up like an embryo in a mother's womb. I touch her

soft fingers and a zest of life runs through my body, my beautiful little sister, Mihika, whom I

lovingly call - Dewdrop, which actually is just a straight English translation.

Sometimes I think God didnt do us justice, my parents have never been an ideal parent,

they never bothered about us. They can probably be best described as the perfect examples of

self-obsessed, self-centered people who keep their own interests beyond anyones even their

childrens; classic examples of narcissistic personality disorder if I may have to go that far to

label them. Even their interest in us, whatever miniscule amount there is, often hinges around

making us meet theirs.My father was not around when my umbilical cord was cut. He was in the city busy

earning for the bright future of his son that he didn't come to see born. My father was a farmer

before he turned to the city to work in some paper mill. The land in our village was not really

fertile, infact it wasn't even ploughable, the fields were farmed just like those in B&W films - with

big strong bulls. The river Ganges flowed below but its water never could reach our perched

lands, reason being there's nothing like reverse irrigation canal existed which could carry water

up the hill. So, that was the end of it, he moved to the city, to earn and to provide, leaving his

expecting wife behind. I never knew what he did there in the mill, actually I could never know

because he left it soon after I was born, he joined in the state electric department - UKEC -

Uttrakhand Electric Corporation. Later when he got transferred to Sambhala (a small hamlet

surrounded by Shivalik on north, Ganges on east and Yamuna from west) from Sector five,

Daulatpura, Ghaziabad, we too moved with him to the big city. I was five then and my sister

Dew still unborn.

Its really difficult to understand them, they act like such freaks sometimes, in-fact all the

times, they dont care much about us, and yet they want complete control over our lives, we are

forced to do things we have no interest in, and we are asked to drop-out what we are excited

about. If I have to recall things that my father or even my mother has provided or done for us, I



10/30

Raj Kamal Bisht

wouldnt even be able to count on two hands. They fail to see I have my identity beyond them,

my needs, my rights, my life, my aspirations, my way of seeing and doing things.

I told my father once that I am keen to continue studies after graduation, or maybe Ill

take up research work, it interested me. One minute hes sensible, a patient listener, another

minute, he is a zealot, a fanatic. He was indifferent, he had different plans for me, he told me.

He wants me to be a government servant, aim higher he says, pursue civil services. It will bringa lot of respect to the family. And my mother - she is in the same team, with him. She says, your

father is a very intelligent man, you should listen carefully to what he says.

So much so for his wisdom that during junior year, the eleventh grade, I was forced,

quite literally, to take biology. I hated biology, to the core, I hated or rather I pitied dissecting

those hapless frogs and running experiments on little moths. And all this merciless torture, only

because, my father had a plan! He wanted to push me into medical field, he saw a doctor in me.

He said back then he wanted me to be a brilliant, all-shining doctor, and why so? Basically,

because our family never had one, itd be such a pride for him.

The Day Beckons

As a new day beckons in one more day of my banal existence, a strange unearthly

feeling shrouds me, I sense something foul in the air. For the past nineteen years of my life

nothing significant really happened, I ate, I bathed, I walked, I studied, I slept and I got by. But

today is the day when things finally get start changing, for better or worse. Today is the day

when I allow my emotions to get better of my judgment, today is the day when I trigger a chain

of events that lead us to the decay, today is the day of un-surmountable odds andunprecedented coincidences. Destiny, as someone would put it, reaches out, to me.

~~~

The morning is really breezy, I infer from the hurling noise of wind hitting the glass

window. We live on the first floor of a four bedroom house, ours is a little two room with a

kitchen; open on the front it looks as if somebody just dropped the two rooms on a big wide

rooftop of a bungalow. I step out ready to bear the cruel day, it indeed is windy I feel as the

breeze brushes my cheeks cold. I am, however, is somewhat protected by my fathers old jacket

that I am putting on; the jacket in itself is a priceless artifact, patched by hand at multiple places,and an over oversize by miles; it hangs loose so much that it makes the wearer look cool in an

anti-fashion way.

I admit, I am not one of those who spend fifteen minutes in front of the mirror adjusting

their hair, neither I am like what-shirt-to-wear-on-which-day-or-occasion person, nor am I who

wear shoes that goes with particular trouser. I fall more in the category in which people comb by

running their fingers across, and wear whatever they could grab in their field of vision, and walk

in the shoes that just fits or probably have just one pair.



11/30

Raj Kamal Bisht

As I climb down the flight of the stairs, I hear voices from a distance, of chimes, hanging

from the ceilings of the porch, appearing to talk to each other to weave a conspiracy against

the wind.

Today is the day!

~`~`~`

Involuntarily the dream flashes before my eyes, it has not stopped disturbing me, it is like

an imprint on my mind, an impression of subconscious on conscious. What did it actually mean?

Am I gonna die? A classical Freudian analysis would say the dreams we see are the

manifestations of our internal fears and unfulfilled desires. But I am not afraid of dying, then why

the plane crash? And who was the red head girl in question, to whom I expressed my love so

unabashedly, do I really love someone I know? Am I capable to love someone? And what about

the plane? I have never even sat in a plane, or never thought about sitting onto one, then what

was I doing into one? Where was I going? Clearly neither Freud nor Jung could explain what I

saw, it was bizarre and it was out of place. For a moment I consider premonition - a glance into

future. Hypothetically speaking if it indeed was a future, then how did I arrive at it? Arohan didn't

know, the answer lied ahead, all his answers that he sought lied wrapped in the day.

Where was I going?

My inner thoughts gets louder.

If you look at it the dream was centered around the themes of Love, Death and the

Journey -

Love - for a stranger, someone I barely knew, or maybe it could mean that even though I

knew the person for some time I still didnt know her. It indeed is intriguing, feeling love for

someone whom you didnt know (or didnt know very well).

Death - I knew I was dying and yet I was calm as if I have fulfilled my purpose. But then

again I was going somewhere, I should have been restless or at-least should have some regret

that I couldnt reach my destination. Why was love so important? How did it wiped out all myfears? Can it be so powerful as to overcome other emotions?

Journey - itself was totally mysterious, where was I heading to? There were foreigners in

the plane, which could only mean that I was going out of the country somewhere. But where to?

Where was I going? And why?

Where am I going, now? And why?

~`~`~`

I am hanging on the bus door with my feet on the edge of the first step and the body

hanging outwards. The gush of the chill air cancels whatever effect my cold cream might have

had on my face, my fingers are already numb and stiff, and my shoulder are oozing with the

pain that comes from supporting my body on the edge.

The bus that takes us to the college is filled with blockheads, deranged fellows, there

isnt even enough space to keep the feet down. I somehow try to fit in myself. Our driver seems

to be in some major hurry, like he is late for an appointment with Satan. The bus catches speed

with complete disregard for the traffic rules, the safety of the other locomotives and without a

dime of respect to the poor pedestrians. The only rule it seems to follow is drive ahead, reach

first - in one piece or broken doesnt matter. I grab a seat, when someone drops out in between.



12/30

Raj Kamal Bisht

The bus is so stuffy I say to the girl sitting at my next, who I think thinks half of the

mankind is below her dignity to talk to. The fragrance about her is too strong, Bolton? Chanel?

Whatever it might be, she definitely seems to be from a family of decent means, but then why

shes still traveling by a local bus? The inquiry intrigues me. Maybe her sense of seeking

adventures just like my own pulls her in here. Yeah she says, more of out of an

acknowledgment that she heard me. I ask, to keep the conversation from dying How did youmanage to get a seat so fast? In response, she points out to a board above our seat - ladies

seat - it says.

Closer to my seat is standing Sumit, looking nervously in my direction with the corner of

his eyes. Sumit is a senior, one year ahead of me, he boards the bus from the same stop, infact

we all three get on from the same stop. Sumit has a fondness for the girl, a fondness little too

strong, he has told me things that normal healthy being wouldnt know, he bets with me often

what she will wear on what day, details right from the hair clip to the socks. Socks? Wait till it

gets even creepier, he tells me he knows the landlord where she lives, I raise my eyebrow in

doubt, he then explains me that he followed her once. It freaks me out, he has all signs of a

brooding stalker.

She definitely is an attractive girl who smartly wears her cloth, not the designer stuff, but

the comfy casual equivalent - a smartly sewn well fit trouser with a crisp white shirt, sleeves of

which are comfortably curled up to expose just the right the amount of her upper arms, and a

navy blue sweater half sweater with a dirty crumpled look. A fragrance of Bolton-on-Trent or

some fancy Italian cultural import surrounds her. I am certain to a fair degree that she sees male

as nothing but a petty race, some un-desirous beings trying to garner her attention.

The security at the gates gets me - why my shoes are not shining black today and why

my tie resembles that of a rival college - ITU. I reply after taking a momentarily pause: It

appears that the tie got mixed up at the washer-man when I gave it to him for ironing. There are

a couple of guys in our colony from ITU so it is an entirely plausible outcome that an accidental

switch might have taken place.~~~

The road to the main building from the main gate is really long, it takes a whole ten

minutes to walk upto it. There are bicycles that you can grab but the thing is they never are

available when you need them. The downward slope to the main building makes a helluva bike

ride. Imagine riding a bike with no breaks, just a frictionless free-fall, youd run over few things

and few people before youd ultimately topple over. The whole journey to the top is indeed very

lonely.

On the right side of road is the girls hostel, standing gracefully, looking over a shallow

gorge behind, and a big series of plateau across that gorge. Almost everyone who passes it,

glances up in hope, that someday they would get a glimpse of someone they are destined to

meet poetic BS fed by the film industry. Instead, they often see girls drying their hair off with

wet towels. Alas! Someone should give these little daisies a little brain.

Far ahead at the end of the road, stands majestic a light gray sandstone sculpture of

Archimedes on the shorter edge of a big oval shaped lawn, that welcomes you at the entrance

of the main building, an administrative wing, the statues surrounded by the perfectly mowed

yellowish-green grass, which in winter feels razor-sharp when you run your bare fingers against.



13/30

Raj Kamal Bisht

Eureka! Says a wooden signboard put beside the statue. Administrative wing is where all the

kids go when they have to pay the fees or when they have discipline issues or when the Dean

just calls you for any reason he feels like.

~~~

I get sickened even by thoughts of going through the routine, A starts, A finishes, Bstarts, B finishes, so on and so on, and then A starts again, the cycle never stops. Is there any

end to this madness?

The day begins with Humanities, the very first lecture that we have, a boring snoozefest,

an overdose of sleeping pills. The inner poet in me thinks,

What an irony it is Shakespeare, Humanities being taught to a group of in-humans.

But we need not worry ourselves unnecessarily because in this avatar here, humanities

is nothing, but just another fancy name for English literature. Literature is a subject where you

study Romeo & Juliet and often while reading, the portraying classmates - opposite sexes - fall

in love. Only that real life is not cinema, here we study real classics and not emotional

melodrama. We are emotionally overloaded with the struggle of old Santiago and the alluding

marlin from the old man and the sea, and a set of enthralled characters from the period drama -

war and peace.

I am fifteen minute early for the lecture the second lecture, Computational Physics, the

first lecture is Humanities, the class has been very conveniently placed at the top of the chart so

that we, the punctual pupil, can have the liberty to be late to the college. Humanities, I observe

has always been our first lecture, semester after semester, more-so all the practical are piled up

together on Saturdays - the day when no one comes to the college. A serious mess truly, and if

someone has to be blamed for this, it has to be Raul, for his boy-genius and his love of

programming, made this dream-come-true timetable possible. Before him all the time tables

were done with the bare hands - palms and knuckles, pen on papers, quill on banana leaves,

taking as long as two weeks and lots of stressful head space. The answer was provided byRaul, but it was Siddhant who suggested him this outward creative expression of his genius,

and the corrupt suggestion to tweak the system a little in our favor was given by me.

Raul is not tall, or handsomely dark, or anywhere near to an attractive man, but he has

certain things going for him that makes him irresistible or at least a bit charming. He has a

rectangular face, a small but broad forehead, which is bare, no hair, thin hair on scalp, which he

combs smartly, he sets his hair is a way that it cover most of the empty ground. A decent face,

not very boyish and not very manly, something somewhere in between, a sort of mix. The

overall shape is of a rectangle with curved edges and with eyes, nose, ears and mouth put in

the right proportion. Good thing is he carries himself with an utter grace, real gentlemanly walk,

bright smile, and is not afraid of laughing out loud when the situation demands - a trait that

makes him a much likeable person.

His trademark jacket hangs on his broad worked out shoulders, a jacket that he says he

got when he played nationals in volley ball for his school. It has written Raul, 99 over its back. I

have seen him play here, he is what he says - a national player, really impressive with his

blazing fast service, and a fiery well directed smash, he can play with one hand just as good as

with two hands. Still, he is naive in many ways, ignorantly innocent of the shrewd world and the

foxy people. There's no trick in him, or no pinch of ingenuity in his personality. In the guest



14/30

Raj Kamal Bisht

lecture (where rattan and I met him first time) he could have answered the questions himself,

and taken the limelight, and yet he chose to help someone, a someone he didn't know. Now,

this is innocence. Still untouched and uncorrupted by the manners of the world, he is.

Raul has a brother, Mrinal, who works in US, lives an ideal life, a blue collared job as a

software consultant, a homely wife, a two year old boy, a duplex home in the suburbs of LA. An

ideal life awaits for Raul too, when he passes out, he too probably would fly off to the land ofdreams; his brother says, he would get him the job in the Big Apple or somewhere when he

comes. People say he's lucky to have such a brother, such an exciting life awaits him. But I

know Raul thinks otherwise, I know Raul doesn't think of going to US, it doesn't fascinate him

even a bit, he wants to be here in India and wants to do something for his homeland, and

moreover he doesn't want someone to say - oh he is nothing, his brother made him. He's

probably one of the most self-respecting guy ever met, even before I could know what exactly

the word self-respect means.

Random Chapters

Pandoras Box

I grew curious when Vairagi didn't turn up for the fifth day straight, without him the

classroom looked empty and spiritless, and I grew worried when he was missing for more than

two weeks. "Something is wrong!" "Where is the lad?"I asked Siddhant about it, and he ignored, of-course vairagi was not his friend and hence

of little concern, if any whatsoever. Siddhant said that there are cases in every semester or

atleast in every year when people go missing, why didn't I notice earlier? Where did those

people go.

Now when I look at it I realize the guy never gave me his number, it was him who always

called me, but why didn't he share his no.? I am sure he had one, did I ask him anytime of his

contact number? or where he lived? How much do I really know about him?

Determined to find out the whereabouts of Vairagi or what happened to him, I prepare to

go to the registrar,

"Sir" I said to the registrar.

"Yes" He said looking up from the pile of files spread on his desk. The guy never cleans,

must be bachelor.

I told him that my classmate Vairagi for few weeks was not coming to college, and I

further told him that he's a very fast friend and I am really concerned about him. He stares at me

with a very strange gaze as if I am the one responsible for his disappearance. He takes few long

breath and punches something on the keyboard, probably pulling out Vairagi's record from the

student database. He quickly reads through it and says,



15/30

Raj Kamal Bisht

"He's still enrolled, so don't worry about it, maybe he is little sick or maybe on a trip" "Did

you consider that?"

I am partially relieved on hearing that he's still a student, he didn't quit, but why am I

relieved? why did I think that he would quit? why am I worried about him like a mother for his

child?

"Can you inform principal sir about him?" I request the registrar.

"No, I can't at the moment, people take break all the time, nothing unusual" He replies.

"But what if something happened to him?" I enquire.

"You are worrying unnecessarily kid, go back to your class, and focus on studies"

My mind was too preoccupied to think about anything else, I had to know where he is.

So, I asked the registrar.

"Can you give me address or his contact number, I'd visit him and check"

He thinks and speaks, "That's not possible, student details are confidential"

"Sir" I say pleadingly, "I have to know that, I have to see him"

"I told you that's not possible" He says irritatingly.

~'~'~

I wondered where vairagi is, what is the reason for his sudden disappearance, and what

about the red head that she met in the CO2, she's the only connection I see that vairagi had

besides me. I have to find this gir somehow, maybe shed help me find Vairagil. I go to the club

to see I could hang around and find her, the bouncer didn't let me in, so I waited the whole night

outside, the dawn broke but nobody came out that resembled her even slightest, and which

made me wonder I could really recognize her even if she turns out. I didn't even see her faceproperly, and I sure don't recall if any I saw. That was a weird night, I still don't understand how

did I wake up on my bed the next morning? Another night went by waiting outside in the cold for

her, for the girl I don't seem to recall properly.

And after the third night I decide I wouldn't do this anymore, maybe she's not coming

here anymore, since vairagi is gone? The thought made me worry even more for him. And what

if she doesn't exist at all, I just imagined her that night, I was drunk of-course, and it was pretty

dark in there. So, maybe it was just vairagi who helped me get home that day. Imagination,

Hallucination, my mind playing trick on me? I don't know anymore what to believe and whom to

trust? Whom can I confide in with this burden? No, this is my cross to bear, I have to do it

myself.

With my options seem to be running out, I call upon DK, the hacker, I saw only one way

out to reach vairagi - student information.

"I need your help" I say.

He sees me with intense eyes, does he already know what I am going to ask him about.

"I want a student record"

He nods his head, so I question him further,

"One of our classmate, Vairagi Chand"



16/30

Raj Kamal Bisht

"Why?" He asks curiously.

"I just need to get in touch with him, he is missing from college for sometime, in case you

noticed."

We go the computer lab, it is safer to hack from the public computer of the lab

than from a private computer. He pulls the keyboard to his lap and begins

typing at a jet speed."Done! we are in" He exclaims after ten minutes, I think, one of those day I would learn

myself how to hack into.

"There's virtually no security" He says, "As easy as walking in a candy store"

A photo on the left and the information on the right,

"What is it?" He asks looking at me.

"There's no contact no" It's really hard to believe.

"The address too is of some tiny obscure village in Himachal"

"It doesn't make any sense" I say in exasperation.

Clearly my mind was turbid from the lack of sleep, I have to take some rest to make

some sense out of all this -

In the dream that followed I saw myself talking to Vairagi, the red head girl was there

too, but she was standing at a distance, her face was unrecognizable, it could mean only one

thing that even my subconscious didn't register her, I may not have seen her, really. But why

was I thinking about her, she was not important, Vairagi was. Vairagi was limping; he was

holding a crutch on one hand, supporting himself. He said something to me, I thought he

couldn't see me, I was a mere observer in the state of matter, but I was wrong, he asked me for

help. He was in great pain, he told me, he had a responsibility that he couldn't fulfil by himself,

he needed me by his side.

I was so disturbed by the dream that the first thing that I did was to hop on the first busof himachal roadways. I was not sure how do you exactly go to Bantlab, but nevertheless I

jumped, once I begin my journey I would learn on my way to the destination, I rationalized. A

man in dirty rags sitting next to me told me I would have to Kasol from there I could reach

Bantlab, he himself didn't know how exactly to reach Bantlab from Kasol, I thanked him and

replied that I would figure it out at Kasol itself. Further, he told me to reach Kasol, I had to drop

in at Kullu, and from Kullu I could get a jeep to Kasol. This bus was going to Mandi, from Mandi

Kullu was not that far.

I reach Mandi late in the evening, the sun is slowly receding back beneath the blanket of

blue mountains and orange clouds. The cool wind sends a chill inside me, a fear creeps in, I get

a strange feeling that I shouldn't have undertaken this journey, in the sleepy moutainous village

a terrible secret awaits me, an evil that slept through time is about to awaken.

I decide to take a halt at Kulla, it's getting dark and I am terribly tired by journey. I take a

room in a small one floor hotel, the owner an old man and woman, serves me a delicious hot

soup for the dinner. They tell me it is made from Zoku a local herb found in the mountains, it

takes away your tiredness and pain. They were probably right, for I sleep a dreamless night,

and awaken dew fresh in the morning. Recharged and replenished of lost energy and

enthusiasm, I take off early, the old couple tells me I could get in a mini bus ployed between



17/30

Raj Kamal Bisht

Mandi and Kullu, and then from Kullu Kasol is only an hour away by jeep. I travel as they

instructed me, and I reach Kasol by afternoon. I go to a local tea stall, and take a cream roll and

a hot tea, I watch people go by as I sit on the small wooden stool. I refrain from thinking about

what is going to happen, and I avoid making any definite plan, that's probably best to deal with

the uncertainty, kill uncertainty with uncertainty. I ask a local guy how to reach Bantlab, he

stares me for a moment and says something in local dialect that obviously I don't understand.As I am about to leave, he touches my shoulder, he's asking me to follow him! I try to read the

signs that he is drawing for me, I try hard to decipher but I don't understand. Seeing my plight, a

shopkeeper comes out from behind the desk, he talks with the other guy and then explains to

me what he meant,

"Saahib, he is saying he is going to Bantlab himself in half an hour, and you can join with

him for the journey." I thank the shopkeeper and I thank the loca lman. I meet few white tourist,

they seem unusually ecstatic, Marijuana one of them offer me. I think for a moment and I

decline, a very important journey lies ahead of me, I have to be at my thinking best.

A white woman probably in mid forties asks me where I am heading to, I tell her I am

going to a small village, Bantlab, to see a friend. She is intrigued enough that she says she and

her friends wants to join along if I am okay with that. I shake my head and say no.

I am taken by surprised when I learn that there's no road way between the two places,

and we have to go on feet. The guy tries to tell me using his fingers how long it's going to be,

three hours, three hours of walk through the mountainous terrain. Thus we begin our journey, he

takes me though the wild streams, through the unknown valleys, through the unbelievably

beautiful flower beds, and through the green meadows. Finally, in the evening around five we

reach Bantlab, a small dot situated in the hills along the Parvati river. I bow him to thank him,

the guy seems to very nice and invites me to his home. Feeling famished and hoping that I

would be offered some food, I accept his offer. The man's wife serves us some dish of rice and

a glassful of buttermilk. I could only take one sip of buttermilk, it is that sour, but that one sip

was enough to titillate my taste buds, it was that great. His wife too doesn't know hindi, so I tryto speak to the kid, surprisingly the boy speaks well. I ask him about Vairagi, he tells me I

should talk to the village head, the boy is really mature for his age I conclude.

The man takes me to the village head, I wish he has a boy with whom I could talk, but to

my surprise he speaks the language himself. I ask him about Vairagi Chand, he replies that he

doesn't know any such person, I then ask him about families with Chand as their surname, he

then tells me that there are dozen such families with that surname. I request him if he could help

me with the task, I have to talk to them no matter what. After a little bit of persuasion he agrees,

here we go!

Six in the evening and the night sky has already begin to grow dark, we knock at the

doors, one by one. Some gives me a scary stare and some doesn't even bother to reply, but I

still carry on, it doesn't take more than an hour to go through the list. Disappointed I decide to

retire for the day, I go back to Sunder's place as he offered me the night stay. I talk to the little

boy and tell him that I couldn't find my friend, his father tells me that I should probably head

back, he's going back to the kasol early morning and I could join him. In the night on the hard

floor bed, I decide it's probably best to head back, without wasting further time, it was a mistake

to come here in the first place, I curse myself for taking such an emotional decision, I should

have put in some thought before undertaking such an arduous journey.



18/30

Raj Kamal Bisht

While on my way back, several thoughts cross my mind, I walk slowly and way behind

Sunder, a stream comes and I decide to remove my shoes and I dip my toes in the cold water, I

feel a chilling sensation, slowly I pour in my feet and carefully walk on the scattered but pointed

stoned under the water. The pain makes me think, the pain and thhe cold takes my mind out of

numbness, and a thought ignites in my mind, something I didn't consider so far in my quest -

Vairagi doesn't live here anymore, and what if his family too doesn't live here. Maybe anabandoned or forsaken house I have to look for, I shout at Sunder but he doesn't listen, so I

decide to him carry-on and decide to go back and give it one more shot.

Sahib one of the villager tells me, that there is no such place here, all the houses are

occupied, I ask him further,

"Is there anyone who's new to the village, who recently moved in?"

"Not that I know of saahib"

"Not very recently, it doesn't have to be very new, but maybe five or ten years back or

so"

He takes a long pause to think and then replies,

"There is one, Rupendra, he works at the watermill by the river"

I thank him and head out to find Rupendra. I find Rupendra as villager told me, working

in the water mill. I ask him about the house, to which he agrees that it indeed was abandoned.

"The village sarpanch handed me over the house, since nobody was living in it anymore,

I was allowed to stay"

"Is there something wrong, babuji?" He questions nervously.

"No, nothing" I reply, "But I have to see your place, it's important"

He takes me to his house, a double story kutcha house, primarily made of mud and clay

and some large stone blocks.

"This is where I live babuji" I enter his house, the kitchen is at the entrance and then

there are two rooms attached side by side. The place is dark, even in the full sun. I move

around the rooms not knowing what I am looking or expecting for, I just have a hunch I willrecognize when I see it. He is ready to back to his job when we comes out,

"Wait a minute" I ask him, "I want to see the first floor as well"

He looks at me worried, "What? anything wrong?" I ask him.

"No, babuji it's locked, sarpanch didn't give me the keys for it, he told me to use the

ground floor only."

"Okay but I want to see it" I reply, "Now" "So can you open it?"

"Babuji but-"

"Open it now" I say, bit aggressively.

"I don't have the key he says

I think for a minute, and I mumble on seeing a big boulder, "I guess, I don't need one" He

sees me pick up the stone, and says something in local dialect and leaves.

It doesn't take much effort to get rid of the old rusty lock, I cough as I enter the dark

dusty room. I scan the room for anything peculiar.

Instantly my eyes fall on an old box kept in a corner, I open it, it's filled with old rags, I

move my hands in the stack of cloth and hands hit something solid and kept hidden, I throw the

clothes out in hurry, a dark green stainless steel box stares at me, I pick it up, it looks really



19/30

Raj Kamal Bisht

solid, I try to open it but it's locked, and its internal lock, can't really break it. I pick up the box

and leave.

R.E.M.

"I swear I haven't played the game ever" "You honestly, are not making me?" I try to

assimilate the picture - a beautiful green court laid meticulously with the exclusive Astroturf,

lines drawn with a glowing white chalk, yellow balls lying around on either side of the net, couple

of towels and a shaker placed on a chair nearby.

"How do you play on clay court?" He asks.

'I am not lying, I haven't played the game before' I think.

"I am unbeaten" I reply.

"Too bad they don't have one here, I have requested them though, maybe by thesummer"

"It will be a delight sir" I say as I return the ball.

Earlier -

"So you are Arohan, they speak very high of you"

"Pleasure is mine, sir" I say as I shake his hand.

"Have a ball, yeah go ahead, pick-up the racquet"

I pick the one with Yonex written on it, the grip just locks on my hand, as if it was always

meant to be. He takes the service and throws one at my end, my legs set in the motion, and my

body slips like a fluid in a vacuum, the racquet meets the ball, the ball meets the opposition's

ground, just inside the line it falls. He missed it, completely."Wow!" Niyati exclaims, "Where did you learn to do that?"

"I swear I haven't played the game - " "Never before"

"You honest or making me?"He questions.

A slim tall guy, tall like six-two, slim like a running athlete, fair, short black hair with no

parting, wearing a yellow tennis tee, and a white knee length shorts, a well cultured light beard,

a Nike tennis band on the wrists, and a walk with such a grace - typical of an assured man.

"He is Mr. Parsley" Niyati points.

"You must be Arohan" I smile in affirmation.

"Where are you taking me?"

The coveted Doon Club.

"You'll find a tennis dress inside, grab it quickly and come back"

I wash my face, the man in the mirror still looks like me, not younger, not older, not

pretty, not uglier, just like me. A minute later I am standing out waiting for her, in the lobby, she

appears from the ladies room, my eyes hurt with the sudden glare, her flames almost burns me,

she is standing with a white collared tee and a white mini, light blue streaked tennis shoes worn



20/30

Raj Kamal Bisht

with ankle length socks. The glow of her bloodless bleached skin defiles my eyes, her brows

struck with a charcoal black liner, her lip glosses with the natural pink, her hair tied back in a

pony - almost a perfect human being. 'What is the occasion?'

"Why didn't you change?"

"Why, am I not good enough for him?" I ask back."No, it's just that he might invite you, so you should into something sporty -"

"What are you so scared about?"

"Nothing, let's go and meet him"

"Do you know Friedrich Nietzsche?" He asks.

"No, do you know Fermat's last theorem?" I reply.

"No!" "Something tells me that we are going to be fast friends" Niyati and I smile.

We stop in the hall, a huge painting adores the wall.

"Beautiful!" I exclaim.

"No it's not, yes it is" "It's beautiful and its rubbish at the same,

I gape him astonished.

Yes both at the same time"

"How do you define beauty or for that matter aesthetics?" "Subjectivity"

Subjectivity is how we interpret our experiences, it defines our interaction with the world.

Subjectivity has a unique effect on an individual, it's directly connected to a person's

consciousness. A rainbow might appear the same to everyone but what we observe and

what we interpret is different and unique.

If a proposition is free from judgment of a conscious entity it becomes Objectivity.

Science is objective, but we are not science, we need the subjectivity as well. We

understand the importance of perception in evaluating and understanding objectivereality.

Ethics has to be seen through the lens of subjectivity and objectivity, a murder is

subjective - it can be a self-defense or it can be pure intentional while say rape is a

objective - it's wrong and that's that you can't judge it though a person's eye.

We, at REM, have only one goal - to take the proper course of action that maximizes

the overall 'happiness'. Thus our existence is objective, but our actions can be seen as

subjective. Just as our freedom fighters were objective, but their methods were

subjective - be it violence or non-violence. We don't preach anything, if it suits your

purpose, if it suits the objective then neither violence nor non-violence is wrong, you

ought to do what you ought to do to achieve objectivity.

"BTW, my son has done this painting.""Your son is very talented I must say sir."

We settle down on the bar in the lobby, only that this is a health bar. The waiter, without

asking, puts two high protein energy drinks in front of us.

Sir, what do you do here?

I play



21/30

Raj Kamal Bisht

I mean what does REM do exactly? What is REM?

It plays To understand the existence of REM you have to understand the nature of the

existence itself

Existence?

"Existentialism-" He begins, "says that our existence can't be understood by Science or

morality" "Only an individual can give a meaning to it, make it meaningful or make itworthless, life is how you make it, how you accept the circumstances you are in and how

you take it forward from there"

"What about the obstacles of essence - Despair, Angst and likes?"

"We create our own values and define our own morals. Self-Deception then is an

offence, you don't exist as a character or a person defined through the social

categorization or an identity assigned. Living a life defined by your social role is a 'bad

faith', to transcend you must realize what you are not - a social insect. And what you are-

a pure consciousness, a limitless potential, a flux of radiant energy."

"How can we be free if we are constraints by choices, we can't do what we actually think

but only the things or the choices that are available to us" "Having to choose itself

represents a limit on freedom" "And then tired and tied our minds seeks escape"

"The choices you make might be conscious but the results they lead to are often

unconscious, you take a particular action might not mean you'll receive a particular

outcome. There are millions of possibilities, you can be either of them. I believe you

might have already experienced that"

'I wonder if he knows about my suspension and my struggle thereafter'

"So you are saying we can never be in control, either we do something or do not?"

"Does the destiny exist?"

"The actions and thoughts are separate, and yet connected; with spontaneity of thought

and constraining action, you make choices, not matter whether conscious or not,

thoughts would come, actions would happen, being and nothingness coincide in one'sself. The recipe for fulfillment is to complete the quests, with thought and action. You

can't run, you can't take an exit. Think of these two as the potent weapons in your

armory." "And when you submerge yourself in the quest, destiny would find you as a

matter of course." In fact the quest can itself be the destiny

"We are always in a constant conflict between our conscious desires and the spontaneity

of mind" "Your desires are woven in the fabric of your social roles, but spontaneity on the

other hand is freedom - overturning your role, raising stakes, striking out new paths."

"It's confusing, what you are saying too is in conflict with itself"

"Conscious choice or spontaneity what is to be chosen?"

"Understand this our dreams and the conscious actions can never lead to fulfillment, on

the contrary it makes us restless, disappointed and ultimately disillusioned, but

spontaneity on the other hand might offer you just what you need." "But in any case,

remember, actions and thoughts are the weapon youll need"

The question is not, can you reason but, can you understand?

After a long drawn silence I speak:



22/30

Raj Kamal Bisht

So what do you do, sir? You did not tell me

This is what we do, Arohan, we awaken people

- The awakening is coming.

Bodhi

To the coffee shop in CP we planned to meet, and to which I reach fashionably late.

"So, here you are, finally, you came" She says.

"I had to, I want that Tee shirt, remember?" I say as I settle down.

She smiles and says, "About that, I have ordered my boss that I need an extra Tee"

Ha ha! You order your boss? Who's the boss him or you?

Yeah I mean, I requested him.And?

And I would get it new couple of days or so.

Great! I exclaim

"There is one small glitch though" she adds.

"What? No, dont tell me that"

"Well, you see, I asked the Tee shirt for myself" "So you know it would be-"

"No way" I protest. "You are kidding me" I say looking at her chest.

Ha ha, she laughs. "Obviously!"

Silence. Jacks Bean, a small and a cozy place, the best thing about the shop is it has

huge open verandah in front of it, just next to the road, so you can just walk in anytime.

I observe ten-fifteen chair tables placed around haphazardly, and most of them empty,one mid aged couple sitting, but at a far corner from us, so we can talk freely, whatever

we want.

We stare at each other blankly for few moments, looking for a subject. So, I put forward

the topic that I always do in such an awkward situation:

"It becomes kinda funny, when two complete strangers sit and talk, at times they are at

complete loss on what to talk about. Take for example our situation, we really aint sure

what to about, I may start talking about something and you may not have any interest in

it or it might, who knows, offend you completely"

"Look at yourself, you can really talk, you spoke for a minute practically about not able to

talk"

"It is like a self-fulfilling prophecy" She adds.

"And what is that?"

She doesn't bother to answer, and instead waves to the waiter to come by. A guy with

red half-sleeves jacket on a white shirt arrives at our table. He is holding an electronic meter of

sort in his hands, ready to punch.

"Black coffee?" She says pointing to me.

'Black coffee? What the hell, I like sugar and I like milk'



23/30

Raj Kamal Bisht

"Black coffee" I reply.

"I'll take a Mieland for him a Black coffee" She says to the waiter.

'Black coffee? I thought you are taking one'

"On second thought" I say. "I'll take one of those coffes with ice-creams you know"

"Affogato, sir?" The waiter asks.

"Yes, Affa-" Finding it difficult to repeat the name I say, "Yes, that one""And take all the time in world" "We are in no hurry" She adds, smilingly.

"So where were we?" "Yeah, we were talking about what to talk about"

She says, let's make a deal. I'll talk about whatever I want to and you talk about what

you want to, without any prejudices and inhibitions.

Deal I say, that's a rule simple enough.

"Let's begin with knowing each other better" I say

"I swear I never had such a conversation with anyone before" She says. "It's like we are

here for some formal meeting or something, like our parents have forced each other to

meet, or like some friend has fixed us" "Let's start from backward and see if we can

really get well"

"Backward! Gosh, you are really some thinker" I say.

"What is it one thing that you really don't wanna do in life?" She asks me, all of a

sudden.

"If you had asked me, what I wanna do in life, I probably couldnt have given you an

answer, I am not sure about it. But I am pretty sure what I don't want to end up as"

"What?"

"A laborer" "Not that I have any disrespect for the profession" "Or any disrespect for the

word 'Profession' itself. But I really dont see myself grinding the rest of my life in a flour

mill which is powered though - some wind mill"

"Wind mill?" She questions.

"The wind is highly unreliable, it changes direction, and it changes momentum""Nobody wants uncertainty" She adds.

"No, I like uncertainty" I intervene "What I am saying is - I don't want to be a clog

powered by uncertainty, but I want to be that uncertainty myself, I want to be that

unrestrained wind that decides for itself when to slow down, when to pace up, and when

to just change the directions." "I wanna do this you know, be free, but I know am not that

guy, I am heading straight in a opposite direction, straight to a life in a hell-hole"

"Job you meant?"

"NO, there's no chance in eternity that I would take up one."

Then?"

"Well the existence itself is a fallacy, you know, living by someone else's expectations

and the moral code of conduct slapped on us by the society" "There's something I like to

do, though" I pause to see if she's still interested in me to go on.

"What?"

"To question and to search" That's what I really wanna do in my life" "An endless

search, for the boundless questions of the universe"

"Well, and what are you plans after you graduate?" She asks me.

There are great things out there that Id like to do, I know I have that in me



24/30

Raj Kamal Bisht

What?

you know what it takes to undertake an endeavor - the zest!

But I am probably interested in other things

Like what?

Like I want to run off to Himalayas I add, - in search of blue poppy The magic herb!

"How about you, I ask?" What's that you dont wanna do?""Ha ha! She laughs I am currently -"

The coffee has arrived, the waiter in the red waistcoat serves us as I try to count the

frown lines on his forehead. Every time he speaks, these lines appear, as if he is trying hard to

suppress something, something inside of him, maybe his true self, for he has to hide behind

this veil of smile and politeness all day. A good part of his life, hours every day, he spends being

someone he is not. It's a terrible-terrible way to live. What is the point of such existence? What

good it is such life.

I am so immersed in my thought that I completely miss what she just said in past few

minutes. I take a look at the coffee, it has a big froth of some cream or something on the top,

there's no ice-cream.

"What are you doing, this Tuesday afternoon?"

"I'll be in college and then work"

"See if you can squeeze some time out?" I purpose.

What? anything special on that day? She asks.

"Why, is it a holiday in your college on Tuesday? I assume you are studying" She says

further.

"Well-" I smile, I haven't told her yet. "I am actually on a suspension"

"Suspension?" She looks at me with a mix of surprise and suspicion.

"Let me guess, ragging?" She enquires.

"Not exactly but kind of" I reply. "Let's not talk about it"

She says dropping it, Okay, if you dont want to tell meAwakward silence for a moment.

You know what, hell, this what (sh)it happened

Theres no secret, its just that its painful everytime I talk or even think about it

I am listening She says.

Okay, so it happened - I take a deep breath and I tell her the whole story word by word,

as it happened.

She looked at me with that strange intensity when I finished. She looked like she wanted

to say something but she didnt, I too didnt want her to say anything. But on the other hand I felt

relived, hugely relived of a burden, I had to share it with someone, I wanted to tell someone how

I felt about it.

"Maybe I'll drop by at your bookshop sometime" "And then you can tell me all about

your favorite books and authors and you know -" "similar stuff"

"That'd be fine" She says Come by anytime

"What are you studying, btw?" I ask.

"Literature"

"Shakespeare and things?" I question.



25/30

Raj Kamal Bisht

"No, not really" she says, "It's more about nineteenth and early twentieth century writers,

thinkers, you know"

I look at her in a way that communicates 'I have no I idea what you are saying'

"That's why like working in library, that way I can read a lot many books for free"

I laugh, "That's really smart of you"

Silence.She says, trying to slice the quietness:

You didnt tell me about it She points to my all shiny MM watch Whats the story

behind it?

Actually, this watch is very special to me I reply touching the watch face, cleaning the

scratches.

Obviously otherwise you wouldn't be wearing something with a cartoon character on it.

I grow serious, This is what has been left of Ojas with me

She continues to gape at me.

"We were very close friends, but I just couldn't keep the friendship when it mattered -"

"He gave it to me few hours before he died" "- and I am wearing it ever since" I say

forcing a smile.

"I am sorry" She replies.

The conversation ended with the last sip of coffee, we talked about a lot of things, but in

the end I realized I didn't get to know her as much as I got to know myself, she had this -

magical - effect on me, I felt lighter, and I came out knowing myself much better. Her questions

forced me to think, to look for the answers and to question further. One way or other I emerged

somewhat enlightened.

Enlightenment is not about knowing some ultimate mysterious kind of truth, neither its

about getting close to God or understanding the nature of reality, but it's more about knowing

yourself and questioning one's belief and thoughts. And when you get to know yourself, it feels

like some dark opaque cloud is clearing, you are becoming aware, and you are gaining Bodhi;and everything else has become just meaningless.

Leaves of God

...that you walk with someone, someone you like, and the whole journey becomes way

shorter and far easier. It takes about twenty minutes to reach there, the climb is steep at places,

and demands a considerable amount of sweat. But then when you are just nineteen, nothingseems like hard work. The euphoria of the age itself is good enough to carry you through.

There's one more way of reaching Shiv Mandir, if your bones behave like an octogenarian's,

you can get on a city bus, no need to buy a ticket, and drop-off at Kuthal-Gate, from there it's

closer, and less steeper. And if you are still adamant to pressurize your weary muscles make

sure...

In the salubrious weather we walk, we walk on the small unpaved tracks besides the

concrete road, we walk under the shadows of tall conifers, and we walk like we have never



26/30

Raj Kamal Bisht

walked before. Our souls feasting on the beautiful vistas - the burnash trees laden with white,

pink flowers, the needles of the pine's splattered on the ground, the dried out greenish-brown

barks that crumble below our feet, the cloudless sky that could rain any time, the smell of cedars

dissolved in the crisp winter air, and the tireless singing of cicadas breezing past our ears.

And we walk like we have never walked before -

I look at her face that glows with strange sadness, I look at her hands moving in tandemwith her body, and I look at her lips, stirring me dizzy, as she speaks out. Lost in the moment, I

miss most of what she says, and she too doesn't care either, I respond to her with a nod in

between, completely oblivious to what she just mentioned.

So what do you think? She looks at me expectantly.

Completely at loss, I pause to think for a neutral, universal response.

The day is so beautiful I remark. Indeed it is beautiful.

She looks in my direction, and just passes a smile. As if she knows I was lost and not

listening and she was just teasing me. Or maybe it was indeed the response she was seeking

from me, I wouldn't know.

Sometimes I don't get it She begins to speak.

I look at her. She continues.

- that people forget each other so easily

Suddenly someone you know stops talking to you and the whole relationship, the whole

thing crumbles down under its own weight and the person you like suddenly becomes

someone you once knew And all this for no reason Why do they have to forget even

without saying a goodbye and what happened so suddenly that they even forget to tell?

If you are going through something you can always look for your friends. Why not tell

them what's bothering you.

What's bothering you? I ask.

Nothing, I am just saying in general. And if you happen to cross them, they wouldn't

even recognize you, they'll just give you a cold stare or look away or at best put on afeeble, forced smile.

I think I know what you're getting at - I reply looking down.

Some people are inexpressive They fail to communicate, they just couldn't. So, maybe

they feel about the person in certain way and the other person never recognize that, and

they feel tired of trying and trying, so they just give up in the end

But still - I raise my head in her direction.

Never mind She adds. I can't really explain it

Everybody feels like that to some extent, at times even I feel at loss, I can't say it, what

I want to say I just can't find the correct words or the right way to put it

Rest of the distance, we walk in silent understanding. And when our journey didn't seem

to come to an end and the walk becomes incredibly unbearable, she breaks:

Aaron

I look up to her

Why do you call yourself that? You have a beautiful name yourself, Arohan.

Aaah, I look up at the sky for the correct sequence of words to drop by.

Its embarrassing but actually I don't really understand what it means and besides it's

kind of lengthy.



27/30

Raj Kamal Bisht

I know what it means she replies, 'I know what it means too, but I don't think it fits on

me.'

She says without replying to my inner thoughts as if she didn't read it off my face,

To ascend, Arohan means to ascend.

Yes like we are ascending right now, taking a hike, and you are ascending with me too.

I joke. She doesn't smile, there is something with her today that's making her incrediblysad.

She says, It's such a beautiful word It puts forth the hope and the goodness in man

Like a wave reaching for the full moon, you would ascend, in your life, you'd overcome

no matter what obstacles comes your way. You might fall, and you might fail but you'd

get up back again, reassemble yourself, and you'd continue your journey.

'That's what we are seem to be doing for past half an hour, but the journey doesn't

seem to an end' I kick a small round pebble. It goes straight to a car coming our way, the

car off-balances, I see the sign of fear on the face of the driver as she tries to pull it in, but it's

already late, it sways over the deadly edge and into the deep trenches. A young kid looks at me

hauntingly from the back of the car, his palms and face stuck on the pane like a flier plastered

on a wall.

Arohan? She says, stressing on Arohan.

Yeah I say, coming back to my senses.

So, who named it? Your parents?

No I reply. It was our neighbors actually. Their daughter was doing an MA, Hindi I

joke. And hence the complex name It fails to amuse her.

We do few U and few S turns before we reach the temple. It's not a big architecture,

something mid-size, a few carvings on the walls, constructed on a hair pin band, and there are

few shops around the area, ice-creams and fast food joints, and which usually remain closed,

infact I have not seen them operate even once.

One thing I really don't like about visiting temples is going in bare footed, I am not acleanliness paranoid, but I do have a thing for it. I can't really stand, literally, with my feet dirty. I

remove my shoes but let my socks on the feet, as I follow her in the compound.

I'll stay here I say, as I settle myself on one of the steps. I donno why I said that, but I

am just started to get a weary feeling. The light at the end of the tunnel is getting dimmer, a

some sort of darkness is engulfing me.

Why? What happened? she looks at me with little astonishment.

Is it that something I said? She asks further.

I just I really don't know

Suddenly for me God has started to appear as just a concept, something eerie is

happening inside me. I don't really feel like bothering her with my feeling so I reply:

I didn't take a bath today, you know, what I mean. She looks at me in a whole new way,

a disgusting kind of way and then she just leaves me behind.

O! just do me a favor, can you?

What? She turns around and asks.

Can you ask Him to give us an easy finals this sem? I say smilingly. I really dont feel

like studying this semester She smiles.



28/30

Raj Kamal Bisht

When she comes back, I pour her and myself a cup of tea, from the kitchen area. The

temple has a running, open kitchen which cooks food forprasadand serves hot tea, and it's one

of the main reason, actually, ITS-ers come here often, who doesnt like free food? Specially the

bastard broke ITS-ers.

She says sipping the hot brew, I am feeling particularly down today I am not sure why,

but is it bothering you?'That's why you turned down my every attempt to humor you'

You were not smiling on my jokes today that bothered me

I am sorry, you can tell them again

Nah, they were no good anyway

I know a way to make you feel better

How?

Its a relaxation technique, just follow my lead, youll be fine

Think of a garden, full of apple trees, and a beautiful green carpet of grass

Now, imagine yourself barefooted, walking around, just feel the coolness of the fresh

air Close your eyes I command. Now, there is a tree on a small hill top, filled with red

and green apples, imagine yourself walking to the tree, you stretch your hand and reach

for an apple, green as a green-pea, you hold it in your hand and feel its contours, you

then take a bite -

I saw I am a kid once again

I have this dream again and again

It's around evening time, someone rings the door bell, "Daddy, daddy" I scream and run

for the door"

Mother says, "Slow down, you little queen of mischief" "Be careful"

I pull out a chair, put it against the door and climb onto it to unbolt the door. "Papa papa"I shriek as I pull open the door. I see a man smilingly widely, elated to see his little daughter.

"My princess" He says, excitedly. He picks me up and hugs me tight and holds me in his

arms.

"Where were you, papa?"

"I went on a journey, my doll, a long long journey,far far away, but now I am back" "I am

back for my sweetie"

"From next time take me with you papa, will you?" And as he hugs me again, I grow, it's

like I have grown-up in his arms from a child to a young girl. As a grown girl I now understand

him, I understand what he meant by long journey, and I understand his pain that he endures,

the realization makes my eyes moist.

"Don't you cry my princess, I am back here, I am back" "I'll never leave you again"

"Promise father?"

"I promise" "But would you be as naughty as you are now?"

"Promise daddy" I am again transformed to a little girl.

"I'll be here with you, always, watching you" He says as he pecks me on the cheeks.

"It is some intense dream" I say. '- some messed up shit really'



29/30

Raj Kamal Bisht

"I know" She sighs.

You love your father very much

More than anyone or anything else -

Silence. Silence. Silence.

"And I made a mistake that I could never rectify-"

O! how I wish I could just go back fix everything'And I thought I had problems, she has a shitload of it'

She takes a pause.

"Go on, what was it that you did?"

"Never mind" she says, "I am boring you, that's my problem, I am such a silly girl"

"If it releases your guilt, I am willing to hear you"

"I am bringing you down, don't I?" She says, putting on a forced smile

"- and that's probably the last thing I want to do to someone" "Let's go back to hostel"

She suggests.

~~~

Exam passes by just as the time and seasons passes by, we merrily (rare few) and

sulkily (most of us) fill one more round of sheets, and I once again walk triumphantly out of the

hall, with a pencil tucked under my ear and a swirl in my walk.

~~~

Stooped over the table, with a pen between my fingers I begin to write the new research

proposal:

The dual problem of speed and accuracy is killing me, I tried BLAST, BLASTX and even

got my hands around the much prized BLASTplus all thanks to Prof. Gairola, but the problem

persists. There is a problem of plenty, the data that we have in our hand is of insane magnitude,

so to carry on any further with my work in lineage differentiation, I have to find a solution to do

the database comparisons.

The trick lies in the balance -

The problem with DFA (Deterministic Finite Automata) engines (on which BLAST and its

cousins are based on) is that they don't backtrack, it cannot match a pattern with back

references, which actually is a feature, it helps them run faster, but at the same time makes

them less accurate. So, the whole idea is to make a backtracking engine, which would be as

fast as DFA but at the same time more accurate.

On the other hand, NFA engines run so-called "greedy" match backtracking algorithms,and they can capture sub-expression matches and matching back references. But the problem

is it accepts the first match it finds leaving other, possibly longer, matches undiscovered. So, I

am working on a variation of NFA where in it could accept a longer match, a degree of match

can be supplied to it and it would continue to backtrack until it satisfies that level. And once it

reaches that level it would assign it a lower priority, so that it would continue running the match

in background whenever the CPU is free. So, this way a minimum level of match would be



30/30

Raj Kamal Bisht

ensured atleast, and we would be able to getter even a better result because of background

level processing, which would be a bonus!

Public distributed computing is another solution, but it is something we cannot rely

hundred percent on, so it has to complement the faster searching algorithm that I purposed

earlier.

Wish we could have at our disposal a vast multitude of high powered computers.

days of decay - sample

Documents