The Divine Pilgrimage

The white linen covered his body,
As he made his way to the altar
His eyes gleaming the flame of destiny
Eyes lacking the senility of dreams
Eyes reflecting the purpose of life…

He made his way up the stone stairs.
Stairs, which bore the signatures
Of varying emotions, selfish intentions
Unconditional love, unfulfilled dreams
The dried sandalwood paste glittered in the light.

The fortuneteller with her broken lens
And her ringed parakeet predicted
Predictions…mere negotiations of souls
Wishing to satiate her soul and her hunger
Life was so subtle and illusory..

There were girls selling jasmines n lilies
Orange casurnias and yellow aranis.
There were old men who told tales
Of the mountains, of Sanyasa, of God,
Of the eternal truth, of the foolish dream

He made his way to the sacred pedestal
It was crowded, but strange as it was
The crowd carved out a path for him
Just like the hands of Bhairava of Anga
Carved out the nonchalant Rambha.

But three adamant people stood near him.
Their eyes closed, their hands tightly clasped
But it did not matter, nothing did now,
He was lost in another world, one of
Prayer, dreams, questions, answers and remorse.

The door opened and the priest descended,
But he was still living in that illusory land.
The three men stirred and extended their hands
And drank the holy water, the elixir of the gods
Water dripped down from their pale cheeks

They then started the long and the perpetual journey
They circled the pedestal with drowsy steps,
Hopes overflowing, soul offered, selfish dreams.
The hope of awakening, reawakening, the dream
Of another chance, another love, another receptacle…

They then gently caress the karpoora and place
Their hands on their temple, the fruit of their prayers,
Questions reduced to the volatility of smoke as it
Gently feathers and noodles into the serene temple air.
The feeling, the thoughts, clouded by the answers…it was time…

The crowd slowly dissolved into monotonous humming
And futile intuitions and the sound of slapping sandals..
A few remain, still lost in thought, answering the questions.
The sound of the bells and mantras resonated and reverberated
The karpoora still flamed, as the smoke dissolved, so did a lot.

The temple was empty, except for the flames from the lamps
The karpoora stopped burning, infinity swallowing the answers
In the corner of the altar, a rat carried a small piece of charred linen
The wind gently caressed the flames in the lamps; flickering feebly
In the night air, another flame gone with the eternal breath!

a cover of coloured soda!

“Trichy”…..the conductor handed her two yellow tickets as she paid in coins. It was a special day for her and her son. His dad was in trichy and they were going to going to see him. It was last during the last pongal that they had gone and visited him. He was a busy man but he enjoyed it. The bus crawled through the countryside where miles and miles of cabbage and eggfruit fields could fill your field of vision for minutes. The lone scarecrow or the lone sprinkler was the only difference from that monotony. She could feel her son resting his head against her side. He was asleep. The slightest hint of breeze was enough for him to doze off.
Memories of their past flooded into her mind. How they ran together to the top of the Gounder Malai and shouted their voices and clapped in joy and wonder when they heard the echo, how they wrote their names in all the rubber trees in Senthil Annans field before they were kicked out for wasting sap, how they caught they small fish in the flooded channels and put them in small plastic bags and feed it with leaves n rice, how their parents discussed their marriage when they were still running around in skirts n shorts. But they had grown up. He found a job in a construction site and due to his habit of putting everything that he had for a cause, he rose. They were a content family until…

“Trichy Trichy…erangamma….Trichy..” she woke up from that slumber. It was more of a ruminating session of memories cherished till eternity. She woke up her son and they got down. Trichy was the same. Hope he would be the same too. They bought the cheap coloured sweets and some coloured soda. They took an auto to his place. The same old cloth merchants, the same flowers. She could see the expression on her sons face when he ate and drank. Her eyes filled with tears as it clouded her vision. Would it really?… they passed the characteristic Siva temple with its reservoir and host of buffalos. She joined her hands. She prayed for him. And for her son. They reached his place. They paid the auto driver who shot her looks. Either he or she was confused. They asked the security. Yes he was free now. They entered the place. It was a massive office. But it was very very old. There were cobwebs everywhere and the dim lighting proved to be scary. The people working there were so immersed in their work or were taking their time out. They reached the visitors room. It was kind of crowded. She wondered.
There were no chairs there. She could see an old lady with a rosary in her hand praying. Maybe her son was not well.

Then she saw him. Unshaven face and the unkempt hair. These were his characteristics. They stood quiet for some time. Then she broke the silence. But it was in the form of a small sob. He did not speak. She continued her crying for some time. Then her son removed the partially evacuated soda cover from his mouth and asked her why she was crying. She suddenly wiped her tears with the tip of her saree and gave him a small toy to play with. He took the toy and started fiddling with it.

“why…what is the reason for such a harsh decision? Cant they revoke it? Why dont they understand?

“meena…look here. This is not like the panchayati raj we have at home. This is the government. If they say, I obey, no questions.

“but.. cant we spend some money.. you know.. my uncle is the local committee member in the Ooty division..maybe we can use his help now.”

Just then their son stopped fiddling and climbed on her and started listening to the conversation…

“Ooty division.. Meenakutty…this is way bigger than that. If their ruling is that I have to be……… transferred….. then it will take place that way. And moreover the money u waste now can be used for Dharma’s education. He has to complete his primary schooling. And then he has to complete secondary school and go to the city and get a good job and be contended with life… like we were…no like we are….i will always be there with you… don’t worry…

they held hands for sometime as they thought about their lives.. a quick review…for what???

But they knew what the other was thinking…. They couldn’t look at each others face…

Just then her son came up to her and asked “ where is appa going amma?”

“ appa….. appa…..he is….going ….. to …. Mumbai…the place with big buildings and cars and trains…..his office has moved there…so he is going there raja…”

“when will he be back?”

“he will be back……he will be back…..”

and by saying that…without taking another look… she just took her son and went… her sobs were audible.. he just stood there and looked at the silhoutte going away… but she would always be there with him…he knew.. he slowly reclined to his space…

it was early morning in trichy…. The classic M S Subbhalakshmi song could be heard from the muruga temple… an old man was reading the morning paperover a cup of piping hot tea…

"the accused in the murder of police circle inspector anbumani has been hanged…" ...he was going somwhere farther than mumbai....

just then an ambulance came to a halt in front of them.. the driver and another person came out. They sat down and asked for tea

“why so early?? U people done get any sleep?

“ its not out fault. Today morning some rascal called up the police and told them that the body of a lady and a child were found on the tracks. Stupid people…wont let us live in peace..”

the back door of the ambulance was open. A small frail but bloody hand was seen hanging out. It had a small soda cover clutched tightly in its grasp….

the white pale gentleman!!!

the day was getting over....the sun was going down...the hookers were coming out....it was ludacris playin all over the town...burger n weed sellers were shwing their stuff??? stuff eh?

today was a fruitful day....he killed three deer....he didnt know for what....the act of killing the deer was instinctive....but he considered it was convenient instinct... rather perfected instinct
.... and coming back he knoced over another two.... and dunno how many he reduced to roadkill.... he had taken immense pleasure by seeing this....

he dnt believe in god...he was more interested in weed....hooking up...ovulating...to him...jesus christ was like de cloned version of nicole richie....michael jackson..and paris hilton...

after smoking his regular queen sized blunt....fire martinis wid burnt peaches... .....he tucked in...

it was in the middle of the night....when nothing moves.

he opened his eyes...... what the fuck was that??...he saw a guy sitting on the chair...looking outside...a guy...in wid a pale white face...wid a frail body...and thick eyebrows....

this guy must be the Greek God for methamphetamine..

"hey duckbill.....what the fuck u doin in ma place?"

"hello...im a nightmare youre having..."

"yea....dude....just get the fuck outa ma place...youre either too drunk...or u had too much of de cheap viagra shit....now scram before u piss me off"

"are you napolean?'

"drunk chaps got parapsychic bullshit!"

"are you the guy who kills for the sake of it?"

"yea.... how does it remotely affect u?...were u engaged to any of the deer i had killed?? or is it sentimental bullshit u got after the deer got laid by you??"

"i am your nightmare remember??.... you are going to die..."

"fuck you....get outa ma shack you "

n he got up and took his double barrel shotgun....


he just fell down....no blood....but he was wrrigling....uncontrollably....nefarious intentions n actions all go down to the floor they say!!

the legend of the smoking wagon had come true...it said that after every 126 years the devil would walk the earth....he last came on AD 1479... it was bad.... but still.... life went on!

but...????????????????????


the devil killing a sinner????.... yea....mass murderer...unconventional drug abuser...and yes, bad breath...

but that was the question!?!?!?!?

who came to that house??....

he was buried in a public ceremony...after all....bad breath nape was someone they had to discuss when they had nothing to do....


that night....a new gentleman checked into the local inn.... he looked wierd....he spoke even wierder....but his eyes gleamed the flame of purpose...

but....who was he???

deaths were increasing by the day....the so called sinners...the so called dickheads.....

people became more free.....
more happy...

there was happiness and prosperity and peace of mind and drugs aplenty...

it was the perfect city...

more and more people came from other parts...

difference of opinion!...

small small disjointments...

bigger difference of opinion...

ego...

fighting....

why the fuck did they come???

what the fuck did we do??

it was silent....the remenants of the place...the lone owl hooted....the man took his rucksack...looked at the town.... checked his nails..

he straightened his hair...n walked to the marble clad hills...

the small wooden board showed the year 1805....

he moved to freasher pastures...

Crows...

It was desolate….the lone wind from the fields tempted me to look towards the rice paddies where I feasted on the harmonic motion on the crops…I was accompanied by two crows.. who were busy feasting on a dead rat. The lone car proved to be satisfactory to me…at least I could treat myself to thinking about the occupants of the car and where they were headed…maybe I would meet them in the long road of life…intersecting ways…

It was my first day at college.. so I did not want to be late…so I arrived an hour early at the bus stop. Since the heat was unbearable I moved to the shade of a neem tree and sat down. Just then I saw in the turning a girl wearing a pink salwar with brown hair and iridescent eyes!…..iridescent? …Yea….i felt I could see the whole world in her eyes…I never knew such a girl lived in my locality…she must live in the Brahmin colony near the gomti river…no one really went there other than the inhabitants…they had a reclusive, heretic and a dogmatic lifestyle and their lives revolved around the local temple, mathematics, astrology and those oil dripping jalebis. She had a bag in her hand …good she was also going to college…I noticed that she would occasionally look at the paddies on both sides and would close her eyes…she loved the wind caressing her face…

She came to the stop and leaned on the post…she didn’t mind the crows…neither did they….

The sun had gone behind the clouds…so he went to the post as the bus would be here any minute…she didn’t mind his presence…she was feeling the wind slapping on her face as she gently opened and closed her eyes…he was ruminating…what should he do??

he could hear melancholic music from the house near the stop….why???…did that have something to do with his condition now…

He went towards her….the smell of cuticura powder lingered…as if it was an aura…it was to him

“hey…I’m sundar…I have never seen you here?”

“I’m revathy…my father got a transfer to the local bank here…today is my first day at college here…I hope it will go well”

She spoke a lot…but I just loved the way her head swayed as she talked…and the way she looked into the miles and miles of paddies…there was this felling..of butterflies in the stomach… But this was more…it was as if they were tickling your pancreas…a funny one…

“today is my first day at college too….it is good that I found a new friend before going to college..”

“You have a very different voice…not that its different..there’s something more to it…”

“so can we sit together in class??….”

“I don’t know…you know I’m in the block for the visually challenged…I’m blind…so ill need more help..”

it was as though a dart had punctured his heart…those iridescent eyes….he looked into those eyes….he did not see the bus going by…he did not hear her telling him and signaling that she heard a bus…

the crows were now fighting for the remnants of the rat…but she was not disturbed by the sound…

“that sound… crows aren’t they?… they must be fighting over something…I just wish I could see them…such a lovely sound..

she takes interest in the trifles of life….crows….momentarily forgetting that she was blind…. Or was it convenience?

“and so is your sound..”

I was looking at her face… she had a small smile on her face which accentuated her eyes…. I saw a faint glow in them…missing the bus was worth it…I thought..It was then that I noticed that the melancholic song had changed to the latest pokkiri song....

The rat was over….still the crows stayed…