The Hand That Holds The Pen

Hollow

2011-10-05T19:52:00.000-07:00

What am I in love with?
This beautiful desert
That mirrors my desolation?
This humanity's loneliness
That pervades me?

What am I in love with?
This lush greenery
That mirrors my needs
Yet never will I feel?
This empty broken heart
That shall never be complete?

What am I in love with?
This escape to unreality?
This never-ending glass
Of this vile, vile drink?

What is love?
It is nothing, if only one heart feels.
It is nothing, if only one heart needs.
It is nothing, if only one heart suffers.
It is nothing, just loneliness.
It is nothing, just emptiness.

It is everything to me.

Inspired by The Hollow Men - T.S. Eliot, among other things...

Never Enough

2011-02-12T10:31:00.001-08:00

The pursuit of art appreciation is one of unquenched dissatisfaction, even a tad masochistic. While one can be happy to have been gifted the joy of reading, knowing and loving the works of the great masters, one can scarcely ignore the fact that it is merely a lesser gift. The greatest gift is reserved for the artists themselves, who by fate or design, possess an immortal touch that can reach the depths of your soul. And here am I, forever loving the work of the greats, forever inadequate in emulating them, yet forever grateful for the opportunity to feel so.

After three hours of reading Orhan Pamuk, "My Name Is Red"

Adrift

2009-10-27T14:12:00.000-07:00

Drifting on the seas of incomprehensibility, shrouded by the mists of unreality, buffeted by the winds of imagination, a blurry night sky cold dark and enveloping, a hazy unsated unnamed need...

An Overexplosion of Early Morning Emotion

2009-09-14T05:32:00.000-07:00

I wake up to an existence unsullied by mere mortalities. I wake up to a presence transcending the aeons. I wake up to an unseen force that drives from within, yet gently, incrementally, inexorably. I wake up to an onward marching band of brothers into the light. I wake up on a dirty desk with science on my mind... Good morning, everybody!

Sitting on a Hydrant with a Coffee

2009-07-12T20:21:00.000-07:00

Never give a writer (or a wannabe writer, for the sake of modesty) a cup of coffee/tea and a place to sit and five minutes to ponder. Because then his mind starts wandering and he ends up writing something.

So the story begins. Aforesaid wannabe writer had to pack his clothes before leaving for a month-long trip, complicated by the fact that he also had to move to a different apartment right in the middle of not-being-in-town. These conditions necessitated too much of organization and planning, something said writer is distinctly uncomfortable with. Plus, his nose was feeling weird and there was a mild rise too in his body temperature, which he thinks might become a full-blown fever in a couple of days.

In such a febrile state with plenty to do and little motivation, he decided to forget it all for a few minutes and get himself a coffee. Considering that the weather is on the warmer side resulting in his little apartment becoming a little too stuffy (like his nose), he decided to get his coffee and sit on the fire-hydrant peeping out from under the building walls and watch the traffic go by. And, inevitably, ponder.

Ponder, ponder, ponder! (Heil fellow geek, if you get the Pinky and the Brain reference!)

Having comfortably ensconced himself on said hydrant (albeit not too comfortably owing to the not-so-flat surface that hydrants possess to dissuade people from sitting on them) and having had the caffeine rush and its accompanying analgesic properties, with the cool breeze blowing through his long terribly dishevelled looks-like-a-homeless-person hair and pondering, pondering, pondering, he notices a couple walk out of the building holding hands. A couple he knows. A couple who are too engrossed in each other to notice the hobo-like-writer on the hydrant. An all too familiar feeling of unmentionable emotions hits the writer who then proceeds to not do anything about it as he has learnt to do in the past year. Yet, he proceeds to dispel such notions about the demerits of his inaction, since obviously, inaction is better than bibulousness ("better", implying less harmful to reputations, livers and wallets).

Cars zoom by. As writers have been doing forever, he ponders on the small part the individual plays in the vast cobweb called society (and God is one crazy spider to have built that) and yet the hopeful importance that the individual ascribes to himself in the larger scheme of things only to be sorely shot down later. Ambulances yell and zoom by. Again, as writers do, he ponders the transience of human life and the meaning of our existence, ephemeral it may be. A car stops at the intersection blasting loud hip-hop music. Now, he ponders how art rescues us from the mundaneness of everyday living making us feel like soaring eagles and when the music is turned off, plop! falls the eagle to the ground, breaking his silly beak. A cop stops his car and looks at him. Now, the writer ponders the suspicious nature of human interactions and bemoans the loss of trust and love replaced with the mad, mad rat-race which makes us worse than rats (which actually like each other once in a while).

Too much of pondering has resulted in an empty cup with only unstirred sugar at the bottom (the writer likes sugar and plenty of it) and a thought hitherto delegated to a corner is now taking center-stage: Pack your damn clothes! Reluctantly the writer leaves his pondering seat, goes home, opens his laptop ponderously and "expresses" it all. Here's to hoping he gets to pack his clothes eventually!

Beauty

2009-06-19T17:01:00.000-07:00

Beauty. There's beauty all around me. The beautiful American wilderness rushing by. The beautiful rain spattering on the windows of this beautiful train. The beautiful fields flooded and green. A beautiful morning. A nice book and good coffee and a great view.

This whole trip was about running away. Yet, the more I run away, the more I run to it. Beauty is an inescapable part of my life that I shall always want. That I shall always pursue and be denied. And just when I am about to give up, beauty thrusts itself upon me.

As I take in this beauteous moment, I think of her. She who taught me to enjoy the littlest of things. She, who showed me the beauty of spontaneity, the beauty within and without, and the beauty of two held hands in a dark world. She, who made me live and love. She, beautiful.

She, lost forever in the maze of life. At once mine and not mine. At once hurting and hurt. The beauty of contradiction. She was my love. And now, she's gone. Living only in my dreams.

To love beauty is to want perfection. Yet the cruelty of life denies us. And we run away, run away from it while it takes us in and throws us out all over again.

The truth is, there is no running away. Stay still and embrace it. Not just the beauty of joy, but also the beauty of sadness. There will never be one without the other. We desperate humans and our plans! None of them will work. Nothing turns out the way it should.

Life, take me. I give in to the madness. I see not what is in store. Drown me in joy and sadness.

Drench me. With beauty.

(No Idea)

2009-05-23T21:20:00.000-07:00

When life did bring us nigh,
Why did you love deny?
If fate will tease once more,
Will you again close the door?

Help! I need to stop writing these...

Inevitable?

2009-05-12T22:25:00.001-07:00

Almost exactly two years ago, I made a critical decision.
An I-am-going-to-Pittsburgh-so-let-me-do-this-so-that-I-do-not-have-any-regrets-later decision.

Did not know that it was going to lead to something so big or something so serious.
With so many repercussions.

Anyways, no regrets... C'est la vie.

The reason God does not give a hard-reset button for our lives is that we just might use them too often.

Feel

2009-05-04T15:11:00.000-07:00

Feel the wind in your hair
Feel the love in your stare
Feel the falling drop of rain
Feel the melting unsaid pain
Feel the gently setting sun
Feel it all come undone
Feel the darkness creeping tall
Wish you did not feel at all

Nice weather. Not so nice things to think of.

Rant

2009-04-24T04:58:00.000-07:00

Don't you get it yet?

Which part of that do you NOT understand?

Don't you get IT yet?

It's over.
O.V.E.R.

OVER, Dammit!

Now, how about moving the f*** on?

The Present

2009-04-08T19:29:00.001-07:00

Sometimes you look back and wonder. At how the present is such a weird place to be. Right between the ponderable and irrevocable past and the unponderable and unpredictable future. The past is certainly beyond any measure of change, except in the imagination of course. The future is, again, beyond any measure of control. What exists and what defines us is the here and the now and what we are in the here and the now. Yet, is that really under our control? For the now is always assailed, no, plagued by the regret and nostalgia of the past and the anxiety and uncertainty of the future. In the now, all we do is forget or recreate our past and work, hope and pray for a better future. And through it all, we yearn for the simple things, simple pleasures. Something amazing to do. Something amazing to eat. Someone amazing to love...

What is a song?

2009-03-02T05:22:00.000-08:00

What is a song but a manner of forgetfulness? Of indulgence and immersion. Of ringing a melody again and again till it drowns out the reality of existence. Of listening and dying and living every unwelcome moment elsewhere... Somewhere... Anywhere... Anywhere, but here.

Wakefulness

2009-02-20T00:12:00.000-08:00

Wakefulness is a bane
For the slowly-going-insane.
When every wakeful moment
Is an immersion in torment,
Then sleep is what you need.
But Hades does not pay heed
And nightmares toss you around.
Human dragons abound.
Tragic fates spelt out,
Wistful pasts play out,
Loves and dreams come true,
Yet terror does it brew.
Desires are made plain,
Enemies slay or slain.
The one you love is yours,
But loved ones don't rejoice.

You wake up with a tear,
A dreadful future fear.
A sorry past you try
To forget and not to pry.
You look around the room
With a sense of impending doom.
Yet, the day has just begun
But your heart's already undone.
Another day, overcast,
You pray, "Oh, be the last!"

Another sleepless nights poem. Had some alone-time with a coffee in a Starbucks.

A note to a flower

2008-10-17T15:05:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure why I'm writing this now. I'm not even sure I'll publish it. And even if I do, it wouldn't matter, would it? I do not know why I'm thinking of you now. Why, right now, I look back at what has happened and realize how much you mean to me. How I will never be able to move away from you, no matter how hard I try. How I can not bring myself to be the sane guy that you used to love because I lost my sanity over you. I only wish there was something I could do. Or undo. To make you mine. Something. Anything. A part of me thinks you were right to do what you did. Quite pragmatic, after all. And my head totally agrees with you. But my heart needs you and refuses to stay put. Refuses to even reconsider. I've given up trying to convince you. I've also given up trying to convince myself otherwise. I do not know where this will go. I only know that without you, it doesn't matter where I go.

A journey's joy derives not from the path travelled, but from the company kept. Now you're gone. And life goes by, second by excruciating second, a thorny prickly path. You are out of my life. But not out of my heart. And to live every moment is death all over again. I miss you. Come back.

No questions, please.

A Poem On Just Waking Up

2008-10-01T21:05:00.001-07:00

Troubled sleep on a chair, not bed,
Troubled thoughts inside my head,
Troubled heart won't let me sleep,
Troubled eyes, for my Laila weep.

For every time my lashes close,
Lo! Laila lives - in dreams repose,
But every time, she breaks my heart.
And so I waken with a start.

From neither one, get rest not I,
From neither sleep nor wakeful eye,
For thoughts of her engross my head.
My Laila, loves me not, she said.

Laila, tender flower, my dove,
I kissed you once and fell in love.
Now you another want instead,
While I just wish that I was dead.

Sigh…

For lovely Laila, from her demented Majnun.

Waves... again...

2008-08-17T09:52:00.000-07:00

Life is but waves hitting the shore. Each wave, following up on the previous one. Each wave, the larger it is, the more damage it does and the more empty it is when it leaves. But they all leave, don't they? From the tiniest ripple to the tsunami, they come, they strike and they leave. Such is life. Always waiting, always leaving.

C'est la vie.

61

2008-08-14T14:32:00.000-07:00

Another year has gone flying by,
Another slow mile traversed by.
Today we turn 61,
And a billion hearts beat as one.

Yet,

There are greater deeds to be done
And many more battles to be won.
But though the path be long and hard,
We're getting there! World, take guard!

Happy Independence Day, India... 61!

Wait, it's not over yet... Partiban Bagyaraj, a friend of mine actually translated it into Tamil

இன்னும் ஒரு ஆண்டை கடக்கிறோம் !
இன்னும் ஒரு பாதை நடக்கிறோம் !
இன்று அருவத்தியொன்றாக,
கோடி இதயங்கள் அடிக்கிறது ஒன்றாக !
பல சாதனைகள் முடித்து வாழுவோம் !
பல போர்களை வென்று ஆழுவோம் !
கடும் கடினம் நிறைந்த கற்பாதை
வருகிறோம் உலகம் ! சாக்கிரதை !

Loneliness

2008-07-28T21:22:00.000-07:00

Yonder moonless night,
Upon a windless sea,
Naught but waves in sight,
Such is my agony.

Oh wish the sea would rise
And drown this soulless me.
Just let me close my eyes
And forever think of ye.

When you surprise yourself by the things you would do for something you never even dreamed about in the first place. When perfection walks away and settles for an imperfect normalcy. When all that you ever wanted would shut the door in your face. When you are forced to walk away from the only thing you want.

Why? Part two

2008-05-31T08:53:00.000-07:00

Why does love have to happen?

And then just go away?

Why is all pain forgotten?

Only to come again...

Mood swings. Grrrr...

The World's Most Horrible Joke

2008-05-27T10:39:00.000-07:00

I know I make you so mad
With my jokes that are really sad.
But that doesn't make you bad!
It's just that I am an unfunny lad...
Woh-my-Gad!

A challenge to all comedians out there... Beat this bad joke!

Don't Cut The Weed

2008-05-24T01:51:00.000-07:00

Though a grassy lawn is of desire,
Pray don't cut the weed.
For by it, a tender flower apppears
To pay the sunlight heed.
For the grass is green and clean and soft,
But no, it never will
Smile at you and steal your heart
As will a daffodil.

A nature poem? Flowers? I surprise myself.

22

2008-02-01T01:53:00.000-08:00

In a strange land so far away,
Begins a year on a single day.
Mind and body live, or try,
But the heart does long for home and sigh...

Missing home. First birthday in the US. What am I doing on my birthday in a foreign country? Wanna be home. Chennai is home. And will always be.

A Silent Song

2007-11-28T19:21:00.000-08:00

My heart yearns for you all day long
And sings for you a silent song:
A song of joy and tender love
And a silent prayer to God above
That one day we'd live in proximity
And I'd love you till eternity.

One of those unsaid things that end up being said

Lonely Soul

2007-08-24T08:07:00.000-07:00

A lonely soul walks the streets
And dreams of a sweet past
Of a lovely friend across the seas
Of tender memories last.

Peep into this lonely soul,
You'll find something amiss,
Torn apart to leave a hole,
Torn away from bliss.

She came into my gloomy world
When all was lost and gone
Then love and joy and bliss unfurled
Like sparkling rays of dawn.

Drops of joy, for a while,
Dripped gently from life's tray,
And then Fate wore a cruel smile
And snatched it all away.

Now a lonely soul I am,
Looking at the sky,
Trying to write a poem,
Trying to ask why

Trying not to feel alone,
Trying not to feel blue,
Trying not to miss someone,
And that someone is you.

For my favourite female friend. I left Chennai for Pittsburgh.

Sleepy

2007-04-13T07:26:00.000-07:00

The world around me spins too fast
And I always end up waking last.
No, I am not some kind of creep.
I just want my beautiful sleep!

I woke up in the afternoon after 12 hours of sleep. And somebody called me a lazy bum.

For The Class: Rolling Waves Of Time

2006-12-03T04:42:00.000-08:00

Waves come and go. There is nothing permanent about them. They come and they go. They never stay. But waves are forever. There is no shore without waves. In that sense, they are permanent too. They come and go forever.

Today, we are in the last throes of what we would recall (perhaps, fondly) as our college life. Three and a half years have rushed by us like a wave. No sooner did it come has it gone. I still remember when we sat in our first class, “as a class”, i.e. All the faces had the same expression. That expression of optimism, eagerness and innocent naiveté associated with the school pass-out. That thirst for life and success after a grueling and boring 12^th Standard.

Now however, there are a million faces. Some are happy and some are sad. Some are disillusioned, not necessarily about the same things. College has been an integral and not necessarily happy part of our lives for the past three years. College has been the routine, the daily chore, the normal and the quotidian. It has been the common pole star for all of us, myriad though the paths of our lives.

We have been through much as a class. We have had our lows (losing parents, losing a classmate). We have had our highs too (BTX’06, beach trips). We have had our moments of mediocrity and moments of sheer brilliance. We have been united in a lot of things and disunited in a lot of other things. We have had our moments of pride and shame. We have all struggled in our relationships and found the needed strength in other relationships. We have had our secrets. We have hidden, but we have also shared. We have covered, but we have also revealed.

We have all been different. Some of us were loud and in-your-face. Some of us were self-centered, introverted and silent. Some of us have been selfless with no reward. Some of us were blatantly selfish and self-justified. Some of us were astoundingly intelligent. Some of us were amazingly mediocre, at least in our own eyes. Some of us were none of the above. Some of us were all of the above.

Some of us have made great friends. Some of us have lost friends. Some of us have found our better halves within the class. Some of us have found them outside the class. Congratulations and may you live forever in bliss. Some of us have not, though. Some of us have sought to belong but did not. Some of us did not want to belong, but have been pleasantly surprised.

Through it all, each of us has grown inside. Certain qualities in us have died, certain other qualities amplified. We have all changed to some extent, yet we feel that it is the world around us that has changed. We have come out stronger, but also weaker. Older, but wiser. Better prepared, yet lonelier. We came in as a class, but we leave as individuals to face the big bad world with our own two hands. And stand on our own two feet. With our own little brain to guide us. We can no longer afford to linger on our forgettable and unforgettable memories. We have to move on.

Today, we prepare to leave the class. We all have our plans. We want to go to exotic places and study marvelous things. We want to earn a lot of money and experience the comforts that money can buy. Our own individual plans, nonetheless. No more are we “the class”.

That begs the question, “Where we ever ‘the class?’” The answer will never be a complete yes or no. Just like life. No black-and-white. Just shades and shades of gray on life’s little canvas. College is perhaps a darker or lighter shade. College is perhaps noticeable and distinct on the aforesaid canvas. And yet, inevitably, invariably, inescapably, it must fade away too. Fade into the rest of the painting. Fade into our memories. Fade into our fantasies of what could have been. Fade into our relationships, lost and found. Fade into our lives. Fade away.

The wave is retreating into the sea. It has to go back, for that is the nature of the wave. And that is the nature of our lives.

The waves. They come and go forever.

Wrote this for the class IBT_2k7. At the end of the seventh semester.

Friend Ship

2006-09-05T12:07:00.000-07:00

Three long years on a stormy sea,
Here and there were we.
This ship of ours, we thought would last,
But since then, all hope was lost.
Now, just before its final breath,
Just before its final death,
The skies are clear and the birds fly free,
Is that land ahoy I see?

3 years of a stormy relationship. And just now, when we've probably made up for the last time, we will soon be parting as we finish college.

Love And War

2006-08-14T09:43:00.000-07:00

Love is unfair and so is war.
In fact, they are both the same.
To some, they are great and noble deeds.
To others, they are just games.

And so you played this war of love
And yes , this game I lost.
So now, I ask, I need, I seek
Just one favour last.

Place your hand on my bleeding heart
And before I fade to mist,
Take the sword you pierced me with
And keep it, with a kiss.

- John Arul Prakash

Another of my mad ravings on the same topic. I think it is one of my best. I do not know why I come back to the same old thing again and again.

Cheer Up

2006-08-14T09:40:00.000-07:00

Hearts that weep will see and smile
That life still goes on many a mile.
The first mis-step is not the last
And a lovely heart is never lost.
So when life seems not to go your way,
Cheer up sweets! Just laugh it away!

- John Arul Prakash

Wrote this for a sweet little heartbroken friend of mine. My favourite female friend!

Rain and Love

2006-08-10T08:17:00.000-07:00

Gentle rain can soothe your mood,
Pouring rain can a city deluge.
So also love can be a delight,
But in excess, will trouble invite.

- John Arul Prakash

Another one of my rain poems. Rain metaphors repeat in the stuff I write, as you may have noticed.

Rain Drops

2006-08-07T23:34:00.000-07:00

Rain drops fall and melt on dust,
Tear drops fall for broken trust.
The sky does cry and the earth is bless'd,
But love once lost will weep the best.

- John Arul Prakash

Sitting in an audi right next to the girl who means so much to me and yet has made my life miserable for the last 12 months. I want to be close friends. She wants to be touch-and-go but does not want to lose me.

Solitude

2006-07-30T08:30:00.000-07:00

The fair moon hides behind monstrous cloud;
The pale face lies beneath the paler shroud.
So does descend this lonely mood,
This melancholy, this solitude.

When life does start we scarce know much
But face the world with love and trust.
But as time flows away, day by day,
As we grow old, we move away.

Till one day when you're in a crowd
But no-one hears you cry out loud.

- John Arul Prakash.S

Written while in contemplation on the porch with the sea-breeze in my face.

Elsewhere

2006-07-14T11:02:00.000-07:00

I thought it could not be worse,
The pain no tougher to bear
Than the ache I feel when I miss you,
The pain when you're not there.

Today I knew I was wrong.
It is painful beyond compare
To find you there right next to me,
But your eyes are elsewhere.

- John Arul Prakash.S

Hmmm.. Proof that you can't have a history and still be friends.

Back To Earth

2006-07-01T02:21:00.000-07:00

Fly away and touch the sky.
Kiss the moon and make her sigh.
Heart and heart shall join and sing
A song of joy, a beautiful thing.
But then one day, inevitably,
Hearts shall part, unwillingly.
Now, back to earth, amidst mortals reign;
Back to life on this deathly plain.

- John Arul Prakash .S

Summer 2006. I had more fun than I had ever dreamed of.
Now, back to college.

Faint Little Hope

2006-06-26T11:23:00.000-07:00

Like a ray of sunshine in a snowy land,
Like a drop of water on the desert sand,
Like a plank of wood on a flooded plain,
A faint little hope, yet in vain.

- John Arul Prakash

Love can strike you more than once. This time around, the distance and logistics played havoc before it could even commence. "desert sand" strikes a clue?

The Hardest Thing On The Planet

2006-04-15T07:49:00.000-07:00

I know that I’m responsible
And I have to be aware
But I tell you it’s uncontrollable
And it’s happened, ‘coz it’s there
I know that it seems incredible,
But my heart says that it’s true.
Every step I take, the lub-dub says
That I’m in love with you. And…

Chorus:
…The hardest thing on the planet
Yes, the hardest thing on the planet
Yeah, the hardest thing on the planet
Is telling you.

I think you know I know you
And I know you know me better
You’ve had boys and I’ve had gals
And we’ve both had fun together.
But of late I’ve been feeling
As crazy as can be
That though it’s not impossible,
That you’re the one for me. But…

I know it’s like a gunshot
But yeah, we’ve been through a lot.
We both have been in spots
Where each other was all we’d got
Whether it was cold or hot.
We knew that we would never part.
But I know you never felt this way
The way I do now. So…

Am I making a mistake?
Feeling things I shouldn’t feel?
Or maybe I have finally
Found the truth, will it let me be?
Coz the mind rules the body
But the heart rules the mind
And, baby, let me tell you,
My heart’s gone wild. So…

This one is actually a rap song with its own tune and everything... And yea, every word of it was meant when it was written... Unfortunately, the consequences have been irreparably harmful.

Blood Of The Enemy

2006-04-07T08:52:00.000-07:00

Tina took her position in the line. It was her first time and as expected, she was nervous. For one final time, she checked her face in the mirror to see if the powder was alright.

Her friend, Mona had got killed in the last mission. It was her first time.

That was the price to pay. You asked Dame Fortune to bestow on you her rich blessings, because without them, you wouldn’t survive the ordeal.

There was clanging of armour everywhere and the soldieresses were sucking their lips.

The wing commandree was flailing her arms. That was the signal to start the march. We would march out of our colony and then the colonelle would inspire us with a speech.

I marched in step with the others. It was an amazing experience, knowing you could go out and never come back.

The colonelle addressed the army. “Hear! Hear! Women and brave warriors of Amoskua. Once again, we are here to do what we are supposed to do; what we are proud of doing; and what we have to do, for the sake of the Amoskuan way of life. There are species out there which hate us, despise us and detest us. In truth, they detest the Amoskuan values of liberty and equality, which we are proud to defend.

“We are here today to risk our lives so that our friends might live; that we might save our families; that we might have families.

“Should any of us dread death, let us remember!! Dying for the sake of the common good is better than dying for oneself. I ask you to dedicate your life for Amoskua. What we need today; what we want today and what we shall have today is…

THE BLOOD OF THE ENEMY!!!!”

And the entire army roared “THE BLOOD OF THE ENEMY!!!”

“Ya right!” thought Tina, “you are not risking your life, are you?”

The wing commandrees were at the head of the divisions. Each commandree led her division in proximity to the target site.

Tina’s commandree was a stout buxom female. Rumours abounded that she had had 16 sisters, 15 of whom had died in combat. The commandree shouted at Tina, “Hey you, newcomer, buck up! Are you scared?”

They flew to the target site and assembled to have the compulsory divisional briefing.

The commandree addressed the division:

“The target is close to us. The target is in a state of slumber and this is the opportune time for us to attack. Is the plan ready?”

The Divisional Head of Strategy came forward and said, “Target is well defended for the attack. It is surrounded by cotton defences, making it seemingly impossible to penetrate. However, I think we have found a way in near the target’s ankle. Besides, large portions of the target, including the head and part of the hand are not defended. The best strategy would be a 3-pronged simultaneous blitzkrieg attack and immediate retreat.

Now it was the turn of the Divisional Risk Analyst to speak: “The target is of young age, 20 years. Possible reflex defence can be much higher than normal. However we have the advantage of surprise.

“However, as shall be seen, the enemy is six orders of magnitude larger than us. We can utilize this fact to our advantage. Its size notwithstanding, the target is equipped with a poorly developed primitive brain, much lower in intelligence than us.

“Nevertheless, if we fail, losses will be heavy.”

Her face was grim as she said it and the entire division grimaced. But everybody knew that they had to do it.

The commandree said, “What are we waiting for, gentlewomen? Let us do our duty!”

We were divided into three sections and placed under a section head. Tina’s section head never knew how to apply her lipstick. But she had won more than her share of medals in combat.

Tina’s section was instructed to attack the exposed hand section of the target.

Section Head: “Comradees, is the target in sight?”
Section (in a chorus): “Yes, Section Head, we see it”
SH: “Comradees, lock the target.”
S: “Target locked, Section Head”
SH: “On the count of three, attack!!”
S: “Yes, Section Head”
SH: “Three… Two… One… GO!!!!”

And, like a swarm of insects, they flew to the target’s hand and alighted on it. As they inserted their weapons, they heard the distant cry of the target.

The target was moving. It was supposed to be asleep and now it was moving.

“Retreat!! Retreat!!” yelled the section head and the Amoskuans retreated. Just in time.

Tina barely avoided getting crushed by the target’s blow.

As they moved away, they realized that the section attacking the enemy’s feet was helpless and had no way of escape. They looked back and watched the gigantic enemy decimate their friends. The mission was a failure.

Yawn! Damn these mosquitoes. They won’t let me sleep peacefully. Why else would I write about them at 4 in the morning?

I really wrote this at 4a.m. in the morning after I was rudely awakened by mosquitoes.

Falling In Love

2006-04-07T08:51:00.000-07:00

Sleepless nights of smile and worry;
Useless thoughts of yes or no.
How good she is! How bad is she!
Will she stay or will she go?
Endorphin pump or dejected slump?
Adreno rush or pinkish blush?
Thoughts painted cloudy and grey
Concealing beneath, a joy so gay
Coupled with mindless anticipation, this
Chase of improbability
And the toll it takes, unfortunately,
On my poor soul and body.
Steeped in guilt, the mind flounders.
Is this right or is this wrong?
But this is a wonder of wonders!
Makes you want to sing a song
And sprout wings and fly away
To Paradise regained, Cupid’s way!
Don’t understand why or how,
But is this what they call love?

- John Arul Prakash

Another of my first year poems. This one doesn't have a history.

Vanity

2006-04-07T08:50:00.001-07:00

What this world
That I live in?
Empty, lonely,
Hollow, sad.
What worth all
If lost brings pain?
What worth love
Unreciprocated?
What worth trust
If (you’re) thought untrustworthy?
What worth friendship
If secrets withheld?
What worth eyes
If impressions decide?
What worth heart
If prejudices rule?
What worth life
If it’s only doubt, hesitation and mistrust?
- John Arul Prakash

My first poem after I stepped into college. We were all trying to be what we weren't, trying to figure out each other to see who would be our friends.

Fair Weather Friends

2006-04-07T08:50:00.000-07:00

Laugh and the world laughs with you.
Cry and you cry alone
And the world laughs at you.
Oh! Friendship is so nice
When it’s all sunny and funny,
But when dark clouds gather,
A wall of mist seems to fall
And you don’t know where they all are
And then you fall.

- John Arul Prakash

Wrote this when my best friend let me down.

Why Not Love

2006-04-07T08:49:00.000-07:00

This I do not understand:
Why would a war happen
If only our leaders would think
More humanly?
Why honour?
Why deceit?
Why politics?
Why arms?
Why money?
Why not love?
Why the drive to give
One’s death under guise
Of giving one’s own life
Just to cause death
On the other side?
Why look at a terrorist
When you can look at
A sleeping child?
Why borders?
Why leaders?
Why not humanity?
Are the wills and whims
Of a select few, so rich
Or powerful they may be,
Really important?
Are nations and their petty struggles
Really needed?
Why self-extermination of
One’s own species?
Why should misguided hearts
Misguide the mind?
Why does loss of life come
With loss of clarity
Of thought and reason?
Why bets?
Why dares?
Why the need to prove oneself?
Am I any less
Because he says so?
Should I kill him for it?
Why are we so self righteous?
Hatred is amazing in that it
Grows by pretending
To kill itself.
One hates, to destroy another
Who hates him.
Hate not to kill hatred.
Hatred is not a solution
To it’s own problem.
Think not of self
Always.
Love is the answer.
Why not love?
Think as a child would,
Soft and tender.
Maybe then Earth
Would be a true Paradise.
However,
With doomed presentiment,
I might guess, if there was
One animal species on Earth,
That drove itself to extinction,
It would be us.
That day,
We’ll ultimately rue it, and say:
“We evolved upward in mind,
But downward in heart.
Why didn’t we love?
This we do not understand.”
- John Arul Prakash .S

Wrote this long ago. I did not attempt to follow any rigorous pattern or rhyme scheme... Felt strongly about it for quite some time.

Time Machine

2006-04-07T08:47:00.000-07:00

I wish I had a time machine.
So I’d go back and see the past
Or peep into a distant scene
And see what fate has cast.
I’d go back and change somehow
And be a better man
Or know the future beforehand
And be ready while I can.

- John Arul Prakash

One of the few light-hearted stuff I've written. I probably wrote it in the middle of a boring class.

One Long Walk

2006-04-07T08:46:00.000-07:00

There was no possibility of taking a walk that day. Or rather, that night. He usually didn’t walk, especially, after dark.

But walk he did.

He was walking away.

He was walking all alone.

He was just a man. An ordinary man. A man without a name or a face. An anonymous man. A man who wouldn’t be noticed in a crowd. A man who tread his torturous paths silently. A man of mediocre intelligence and skill. A man whose life was just one strand in the infinitely complex web of human affairs. A man who wouldn’t be missed.

He didn’t have the intense feel of a poet, caressing his beloved verse. He didn’t have the strong notions of an idealist, fighting for a lost cause. He didn’t have the cunningness of a politician, ready to exploit any man for self-benefit. He didn’t have the steady hands of a surgeon or even the strong hands of a labourer.

He just existed.

But he walked.

He was born in a very rich family. Granddad ran a huge business. Then granddad died and his dad took over. His dad was not much good at it. The company made huge losses and eventually had to be sold. His dad had reduced their family wealth to next to nothing and in the end, succumbed to the drink. He was without an inheritance.

He had tried studying hard. He tried attending college. But it wasn’t easy. Vectorial equations and market statistics seemed to put too much of a pressure on his poor brain, which staunchly refused to accept its patchiness. He managed to scrape through by sheer hard work.

He didn’t have many friends. There was just one girl he liked. And he thought she liked him too. He never was good at math. She was brilliant at it. He asked her for help. And help she did. But as his math grades improved, so did his practical in chemistry, of the other kind. They were an odd couple.

They married. Had two kids, twins. He worked. She stayed at home.

He loved her.

She thought she did too.

Conditions at home worsened. He never was good at any job he did, try as he might. He was always on an I-just-got-fired-and-I-wasn’t-given-proper-references-but-I’m-looking-for-a-new-job mode. Money was scarce.

To a person accustomed to the luxuries of life, it was a haunting experience. But still, he managed to live, pathetically though it may have been, for four years.

His wife screamed at him. All the time. But he still loved her. He couldn’t fathom any reason for co-existence other than the unspoken truth that he loved her.

And then it happened…

The kids were returning from school. On the school bus. The bus collided headlong into the side of a lorry. Pity though, the lorry was carrying a few thousand liters of kerosene. According to reports, none of the bodies were recognizable. The drivers of both vehicles, the lorry cleaner, the teachers and the children had all been charred to death.

She started drinking. He wouldn’t touch it. When he was 18, he had seen his father die from cirrhosis of the liver.

Home had become hell.

Then one day, she too stopped drinking. And started thinking.

She knew she was wasting her life.

She knew she didn’t love him.

She knew she was in love with someone else.
She knew she had to leave him.

Our man was heartbroken, to say the least. It was the same night that she went away, that he decided to walk.

Hey, which idiot would take a walk at 2 a.m.? Our man did.

He walked on the shore. On the beach. Enjoying the cool breeze. Wondering if he’d ever do that again.

And as he walked, he thought.
He thought of how he had been a failure in his life.
He thought of how fate had played him a cruel hand.
He thought of his granddad, his dad and his mom.
He thought of his wife who had ditched him for a better man.
He thought of his kids.

He kept walking till he was able to feel the warmth on his chest, while the cold wind nipped at his face.

He kept walking till he was able to taste the salt of the sea on his pursed lips.

He kept walking till he was no more.

He knew he did not know how to swim.

- John Arul Prakash

This was a submission to a short story writing contest held by British Council, Chennai. I loved the last line. Disappointingly, I did not win a prize.

Malchus

2006-04-07T08:45:00.000-07:00

“Throw in some more carrots, you stupid Jew!” shouted Malchus. He was tired of haggling. He was actually tired of the whole place. The stinking outpost. The stinking Jews and their stinking tunics and their incoherent babble. Tired of his job.

His job? Soldier. Roman. Serving in Judaea and Samaria. The Jewish provinces were under the Roman Emperor Caesar’s control through Pontius Pilate, Governor. The local ruler, King Herod, was Caesar’s vassal. And Malchus of Perugia, Italia was doing his bit in maintaining Caesar’s glorious authority in this rebellious land, though Jupiter(by the way, Malchus never had spoken to Jupiter or any of his god-mates and was therefore leaning on the atheistic side, although secretly, since most of the Roman Army men were quite religious, though the affiliations varied from the Latin Pantheon to local “nature” gods) only knew what profit Caesar had here.

But a conscript soldier does not ask questions. Neither did Malchus.

Lately, his dissatisfaction had heightened. There was a pervading spirit of discontentment in the land. Even the soldiers felt it. Crime was increasing. The people were frustrated and the mood was bordering on the riotous.

In the middle of all this was Caiaphas, High Priest to the Jews and therefore the most important spiritual leader of the conquered nation, supposedly with access to Jehovah(the Jewish God) himself. It seems this Caiaphas (or any other person in the post of High Priest) was the only person who could enter “the Holy of Holies”, a room in the Jewish tabernacle and there he meets Jehovah. Jupiter knows what they would talk in there!

And Malchus was assigned the night shift as bodyguard to Caiaphas. Not much of a job, but a job it was.

For a week, Caiaphas had been tense, having unusual meetings at night with the other priests. Malchus wasn’t privy to those meetings, but he sure understood them to be of political importance. He frequently heard the word, “Jeshua” being spoken, usually in a very bitter manner.

Jeshua.

Now, there was something! As far as he knew, Jeshua was a local prophet. From some rotten place called Nazareth, in Galilee.

He knew little, but he had heard a lot.
From the populace and also from his mates in the army.

“Jeshua? He is crazy!”

“Jeshua? He is amazing!”

“He speaks wonderfully!”

“He slanders the priests!”

“He does miracles!”

“He fed 10000 people with a few loaves and fish!”

“He raises people from the dead!”

“He is the Messiah!” (Messiah is the prophesied king who will come to save the Jews)

“He says ‘Screw the Pharisees! They are not superior to us.’” (Pharisees were a rigid Jewish sect, supposed to be perfect in all respects)

“He tells us to love others, especially the Roman Enemy!!”

“He’s a traitor!”

“He’s a lunatic and a madman!”

“He calls Jehovah, Abba!!!”

Now Ab means Father. Abba is more like Daddy. In this land, to call upon even the name of Jehovah was sin and to call him Abba was like blasphemy deserving of capital punishment.

Malchus himself had attended one of Jeshua’s discourses, the one where he sat on top of the hill and started preaching. The man, Jeshua, surely was a very charismatic person. There was something about him that intrigued Malchus. However, he was outraged by the teachings. The man taught peace, humility and forgiveness. But a Roman legionnaire was always taught war, pride and ruthlessness. The man’s teachings were indeed hard to swallow. But there was an earnestness on his face, a radiant honesty which said that the man indeed knew what he spoke about. There was also some kind of an invisible aura around him, an aura which the people sensed and flocked to it.

Malchus had been confused. The man seemed normal, a Galilean carpenter by birth. But he also sensed a supra-humanity in Jeshua. A feeling that though Jeshua was as human as Malchus himself, there was something more which placed him above us all. There was also in his eyes a pain, a pain whose depths couldn’t be humanly gauged.

Malchus left before the sermon ended. That would have been the end of it all, had it not been for a Jewish fisherman, Andrea Bar Jonah. He was walking along the shore after being relieved of his shift and there he had met Andrea. Andrea was an ardent follower of Jeshua. He was very polite to Malchus, unlike his brother Simone Petra, who kept screaming at Andrea to stop consorting with the uncircumcised Romans.

Talking with Andrea caused even more confusion. It seems Jeshua would head a para-human kingdom of his brethren. A kingdom of the spirit and not of the world. His loyal subjects would be all humans (not just Jews) who believe in him as the Kristos, the Messiah who would save the world from the clutches of sin and not the clutches of Romans as many Jews thought. The talk was senseless. But Andrea seemed dead-earnest and still in possession of his faculties. It seems Jeshua also claimed to die and be resurrected again, for the sake of humanity.

---

One night, Caiaphas seemed grim. He looked set and determined.

“Malchus, bring your men, the whole company. Judas, lead the way. Take us to the Nazarene Jeshua” said Caiaphas.

I rounded up all the men. It was night-time and therefore we lit a few torches. We followed a shifty character called Judas. He was clutching on to a purse that very obviously clinked with lots of silver. This man was paid handsomely. And by the look in his eyes, it seems he doesn’t want to do what he’s paid for.

Then Caiaphas briefed me on the sudden middle-of-the-night-mission. We were to arrest Jeshua. He had become a political danger. I wondered what Jeshua had done to merit this. He was a mass-leader. Maybe the priests are jealous. Maybe they feel that Jeshua trespasses on their authority. Yes, that was it. The priests were driven by jealousy. And they were going to use the Roman bosses to teach the Galilean a lesson.

Judas led us to Gethsemane into a garden. On the way, he tried to break and flee, but I caught him by the collar of his tunic and dragged him back.

Now, I was a bit tense, too. Not about arresting Jeshua, for that was a command given to me which I cannot disobey. But, I was tense about meeting Jeshua, face to face.

I, Malchus of Perugia, Chief Bodyguard of the High Priest of Judaea thought this was going to be the night of my life.

Few men were sleeping in the garden. They woke up as we approached. They were actually bewildered to see us there at that time in the night. Except for one man, who was wide awake and watched us coming with equanimity. This was Jeshua. I have seen him finally.

His face showed the strain of having gone through an intense and painful experience. He stood up. His eyes were red, as if he had been crying. But his attitude was resigned, as one who knows what is going to happen shall be. He said loudly, in a deep voice, “I am Jeshua, whom you seek.”

Judas walked upto Jeshua. Slowly. There was a whisper of a dialogue between them and then Judas kissed Jeshua on the cheek in the traditional Jewish way.

Then, Caiaphas yelled, “Take him. He is Jeshua.”

And then it all came clear to me. Judas was a conspirator along with the priests. The priests had paid him well for just one purpose: to confirm the identity of Jeshua, so that he can be arrested.

Some of the men with Jeshua fled. Except Petra. Andrea the fisherman’s brother. My men grabbed all the disciples who were intending to flee. Jeshua spoke again, “Take me and leave my men alone”

Then Petra attacked. He leapt at Caiaphas, shouting “You dog! You Roman slave!” Two of my men grabbed him, but he fought back. He threw them off his back and pulled out a dagger and advanced on Caiaphas. My military instincts took over. I pushed Caiaphas away from the dangerous Petra, but in doing so I had placed myself within Petra’s reach. Then Petra swung.

Time seemed to have slowed and stopped. I remember every instant of what happened next.

I felt a searing pain on the right side of my head. I became dizzy.

The same loud voice of Jeshua commanding, “Sheath your sword, Petra!....”

I dropped to my knees.

“Those who live by the sword.......”

I watched in horror as my right earlobe fell to the ground

“........shall die by the sword”

I looked up, stunned. Jeshua bent down and picked up the bloody piece of flesh that was once my ear.

I couldn’t do anything. Something was over me. Awe. Of a kind I had never felt before. An awe of a Majesty I had never known. I was transfixed, speechless.

Jeshua touched the ear to my head and I felt it whole again. But I just couldn’t speak.

---

Old Malchus is in jail. Arrested for high treason. Against the Roman Emperor. Caesar Nero had ordered a crackdown on Christian activists.

They say Malchus is crazy. That he had been crazy ever since the Gethsemane incident 42 years ago.

He has been running around. Saying, “Jeshua is Lord. Jeshua is Saviour. Repent and believe in Him!” He says Jeshua spoke to him and healed him, body and soul. He says that though his body is in prison, his soul is free as he is now Jehovah’s son. He says Jeshua died for him and Jeshua rose again from the dead for him and because of Jeshua, sin no longer has a hold on him.

His old, ravaged body is broken with torture. But his smile is genuine. He told the guards who whipped him that he had forgiven them. When they asked, “Don’t you feel any pain?” he replied, “Yes, but Jeshua endured more pain when he carried the cross.”

Some feel that there is indeed something to Malchus’s words. Some feel he is just a ravaging old man, devoid of senses. Indeed, is he?
- John Arul Prakash

Inspired from the Passion of the Christ, produced by Mel Gibson. The ear-slashing incident occupies just a few seconds in the movie and the person whose ear is slashed is called Malchus. The story was built around those few seconds then and there.

Two Minutes...

2006-04-07T08:38:00.000-07:00

Damn these traffic lights! They always turn red when you want them green. And there is always a hell of a lot of traffic here in Chennai. The roads are not so good either and the bribable policemen with bulging bellies do not know the rules themselves. People do not care for yellow lines or “No Parking” signs. This is Indian I-do-what-I-want attitude at its very best (or rather the very worst). I should have got used to it by now. A month earlier, I wouldn’t have minded. But today………it’s different. I do not know what this feeling is. Disillusionment? Disenchantment? I just don’t know.

I drive a Ford with superb air-conditioning. So you can’t blame the searing sweaty Chennai heat for my vexatious mood. Yet you can’t blame me either as you haven’t heard my story yet.
I turned on the radio and tuned it to my usual radio-station. They were broadcasting some song from the latest Tamil movie. I glanced at the digital clock on the dashboard. 6:58 pm.
Two minutes to seven. My favourite radio programme ‘M-Time’ starts at seven pm. Two minutes………
They can change your life.

You do not know much about me. So maybe I should tell you. I am a Tamil Christian born and brought up in Chennai, the capital and largest city in Tamilnadu, a state in South India. I am 32 years old and I worked as a software engineer in a reputed American company. I was one of those persons who cashed in on the Information Technology Boom, as it is called here.

This “boom” was probably the best thing that happened to the Indian economy. India has always been a source of intellectual wealth, be it doctors, teachers, engineers, architects or whatever. Labour jobs are looked down upon in India, whereas professional & well-paying jobs are considered prestigious. This discordant attitude causes trouble for the Indian economy. Every year thousands of intellectuals are being produced at Indian colleges and universities and therefore not all of them find jobs. The high unemployment rate resulted in cutthroat competition and when American software companies expressed interest, everybody went for it.

As a result, even while the economy prospered with the input of American IT giants, every Indian software professional who found a job understood that he/she may not have it forever. He/she may be replaced for the slightest mistake committed, as the employers have no dearth of human resources. More so, younger employees (i.e. in their twenties) are preferred and being 32 years old, my only claim to hold my job was my three years experience and good record with my company.

Then came the American embargo on Indian professionals entering the US and because of this, the job situation worsened. Indians were now returning from the US and they had to find jobs for themselves. Every month as I collected my large paycheck, my boss grimly reminded me that my contract was terminable under all circumstances and the top brass wouldn’t hesitate to do so if my work was not competent enough.

I got married four years ago. I don’t have any kids. My wife worked as a receptionist at a big five star hotel. She usually worked night shifts, so the job was easy and the pay was good. I should say my wife got along pretty well. So as a family, we were quite comfortable with our income.

I may have passed a comfortable existence, had it not been for the fact that my wife was asthmatic. But at an air-conditioned lobby desk, there shouldn't be any problem with her breathing. Or so I thought.

Then it happened. It was two days ago. It had been uneventful till then. I had reached home after work at around 5 pm. I sat and talked for sometime with my wife and then as usual drove her to work at around 8 pm. I returned home and watched TV, eating the dinner she had prepared for me. At around 10 pm my cellphone rang. The call was from my wife’s cellphone. I answered and said hello.
A frantic voice at the other end replied: “Hello! Is this the lady’s husband?“
I tensed. “Yes, what’s the matter? Who is this speaking?”
“I am sorry but there has been an accident. Your wife has been admitted to the emergency ward………”
“What? What happened? What the heck is going on?”
“Sir, you’d better come to the Pooja Hospitals immediately…………”
“Hello! Hello! What? Hello………”
The line went dead.
I dressed as fast as I could and raced my Ford to the hospital. I rushed up to the Emergency ward and found my wife lying faint on a stretcher dragged by two orderlies. I recognized the red suit she had been wearing when I had dropped her. There was a doctor hovering near her. I was beside myself with fear and apprehension.
“Doctor! Doctor! This is my wife. What happened to her? What’s wrong?”
“She has had an asthma attack……She has inhaled too much smoke……”
I followed him as he rushed behind the stretcher into the ward.
“Oh my God! But……… how? Oh my God! Why is she unconscious?”
“I am sorry but your wife is now unable to breathe. We were………”
I shouted, “What the bloody hell is wrong?”
“Please stay calm, sir. We are trying as far as we can to revive her. In fact we were just about to attach her to the life support systems. Will you please stay outside?”
I was still shouting “But that’s my wife you are having on that stretcher there…………” I started begging “Please sir, allow me to see my darling………”
I was literally shoved outside the ward by two orderlies. One of them said, “Sir, please wait here. We will not let her die………”

Tears were now running from my eyes. My beloved wife, on that stretcher and I don’t even know what had happened.

One of my wife’s colleagues was also present at the hospital. She saw me and recognized me. She came over to me and said, “Mr. Abraham?……… I am Sheila, your wife’s friend……it was an accident……There was a small fire……in the kitchen and……your wife……she was at the water-cooler……cooler was near the kitchen and……everybody ran outside……they put out the fire……and then we found her lying faint……she did not suffer burns……fire was too small and did not spread……but doctor said……she had suffocated……but……I am sorry……still……we tried to bring her here as fast as we could……I am really sorry”. And then she turned away with teary eyes.

I waited. I paced around in the hallway. I did not know what to do. I was totally blank. Perhaps it was the shock. I found myself unable to recognize my feelings and the thoughts running through my head. Anger. Pain. Sorrow. Distress. No words can describe it.

Around midnight, the doctor came out. He looked tired. He said that the airways in her throat and chest had inflamed severely. They had operated on her and still there was no sign of recovery. They had connected her to the life support system. If she had reached the hospital two minutes earlier, there would have been a 90% chance of recovery.

I waited with bated breath for two more hours. The doctor came out again. His face said it all. He said, “I am sorry, Mr. Abraham, but we were unable to save her.”
I replied “What do you mean? She………she………”
“Yes, she is dead”
“What? No! You mean she is………she is actually………”
“I am sorry, but we did all we could to save her. But………”
I must have then gone mad. “NO! You mean you killed her, don’t you?”
I caught his coat’s collar. “You fools, you killed my wife………”
He gently pushed me away “I sympathize with you, Mr. Abraham, but we couldn’t do anything. She was brought in two minutes too late. I am really sorry.”

The doctor made me sit on a chair nearby. He then called out to a nurse to attend to me and left the place. For the next fifteen minutes I sat oblivious to whatever was happening around me. I then got up and went to see her. She looked beautiful even in death. The nurses were removing many straps and tubes from her body. I turned away.

I thought I was supposed to cry. But no, I couldn’t. My mind just refused to be drawn into the pain. Perhaps it was a defence mechanism of some sort. My entire world was turned upside down and I didn’t have the strength to acknowledge it.

My wife was shifted to the morgue and one of the hospital staff approached me with the paperwork. Once that was done, I drove home.
It was 4 am. I sat on the sofa and stared into empty space. Is it possible for the heart to lose all feeling? I remembered a verse from the Bible:
“……bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh. She shall be called ‘woman’……”

I think I fell asleep. I suddenly noticed that the time was 7 am. Reporting time at my office was 7:30 am. I decided to apply for three days leave. I bathed, dressed and got into my car and drove to the office.

I thought I reached there just in time. I walked straight in and found my boss standing outside my room. He seemed angry.
He said, “What is the time, Mr. Abraham?”
I replied, “Sir, I’ve got to tell you something………”
“I repeat, what is the time, Mr. Abraham?”
“7:30 am, sir……”
“I don’t think it is 7:30 am, Mr. Abraham, it is 7:32 am. You happen to be two minutes late.”
“Yes, sir. But, I can explain………”
“I didn’t ask for explanations, Mr. Abraham, I just wanted to inform you that this is the third time this week that you’ve been late.”
“I know, sir and I am sorry……but you see I just have this domestic problem and I just wanted to…… apply for…… leave……”
“Leave? Don’t you know that you just exhausted your allowed leave last month? And I don’t give a damn about your domestic problems. “
“Yes, sir, but………”
“No buts, Mr. Abraham. I also came to inform you that one of our clients is suing us because of a glitch in the software we provided them. Because of that glitch, they have lost millions of megabytes of data. And you also happen to remember that you were our specialist in database management. Provided with your record of unpunctuality and frequent leave from work, the Board has decided to terminate your contract.”
“But………”
“I hope I make myself clear, Mr. Abraham. Your paycheck for this month lies on your table. It includes the severance pay as stipulated in your contract. You may clear out your desk in fifteen minutes”
And with that, he walked away.

I hear the exasperated honking of the cars behind me. The autorickshaw driver shouts in Tamil “Move the bloody car”. The lights have turned green. The radio crackles: “Good evening and welcome to your favourite show ‘M-Time’. The time now is seven pm………”

- John Arul Prakash

My first short story... Very very tragic. Do not know why. I'd been brooding over the plot for nearly a week, but then it took me only two nights to write it.

Two Natural Things That Fascinate Me

2006-04-07T08:37:00.000-07:00

One, the Rain…
The rain, the rain, the lovely rain
The rain of pouring pain and bliss
The rain that wets the thirsty plain
Gently, like a lover’s kiss.

Two, the Beach…
To sit on the beach
And gaze out to sea
Is to sit with myself
And peek into me

As the wind ruffles my hair,
I think Life’s unfair,
But I know I don’t care
I just savour the moment
And forget life’s torment
And just thank God I’m there.

Wrote this on the beach, when it was raining...

What can you find here?

2006-03-26T01:45:00.000-08:00

Short stories and poetry... Mine, mostly..