... and yet it's true!

They were not of this planet. Not even of this galaxy. Their home was a few million light years away from the furthest point of the universe. They were the reason for dinosaur wipe-out  It was not an asteroid. It was their spaceship. They had run out of gold. Their ship had been pulled into a worm hole the size of a peanut and the next thing they knew, earth was pulling them down. They escaped in an escape pod just as it entered the atmosphere and hurtled towards Mexico. That country has still not revived completely. The ship ran on nuclear energy of ladders. So when it crashed the nuclear explosion was so to say… elevated. Everything was gone. Well almost everything. Rodents are cunning creatures. They survived. They knew The Subway was always free of unnecessary heat and radiation.

Their home planet was mostly ice. They had evolved on ice and ice they needed to keep themselves alive. So they hung around the poles looking for gold and a way to escape. On their travels they realized what a big mess they had created. The dinosaurs were gone. The continents were breaking. So they decided to stay and make things right. The sky was full of smoke, ash and clouds of colors like shit. There was no light. So they accumulated these clouds and stacked them together. The sky was clear. And there was light.

A few of those shit colored clouds had scattered around in this endeavor. But that was permissible. They regrouped as much of them as they could and made them rain over a vast landmark that people later called Africa. It was big enough to allow a significant amount of space for what they called a desert. The scattered clouds made similar small deserts at the other places they had spread out to.

After clearing up the sky and making the deserts, they believed they deserved to have a proper place of operation for themselves, something like an office. They pulled in a few strings with the continents and assembled them in the certain way. Some of the bigger landmasses had to be broken away. This partition was more effective as well as practical. Boundaries were separated by water. Yet the dragons were heartbroken. They couldn't have their barbeque smokers anymore and flying across continents was expensive. Also there was this whole new concept of jet lag. Maybe that’s why they decided to commit mass harakiri. Only three of their eggs were left behind. Time turned them into stone. That’s how Daenerys Targaryen found them anyway. But that’s a completely different story. The continental drift, unlike Tokyo drift, lasted longer.  Of course it wasn't an easy job. They still tend to shift wayward even after eons of discipline. Though the pace is very slow. It was much like driving traffic on a jammed road. There was a lot of collision. Fortunately, by mistake, the Indo-Australian ran like a raging bull and rammed into the Eurasian plate. The land sandwiched between the two made the Himalayas. They had formed other home too. The Alps were one of them. But the excitement of a new home is hard to kill. Besides the Alps were ancient. So they waited for it to grow and gather ice.

Meanwhile the rodents and mammals had evolved significantly. They still felt sorry for the dinosaurs. It was fun watching the little raptors draw doorknobs on tree barks and try opening them. The Orange heads were reminded of their igloos back home. This gave them the idea. They set out to make humans. They set out to make them in their own image. They had no idea how much they would hate it later. It took a lot of work and a lot more Gold. But the time span it took the humans to learn what sarcasm meant was most excruciating. Even more than raptors making door knobs on tree barks and knocking on them. To some, sarcasm is still a foreign language.  

They tried telling people the truth about themselves and their stories the whole time, but something more important always cropped up. Alexander, Genghis khan, Hitler, the plague, the world cups and puppy love affairs are a few examples. The Sumerians were smart people. They made clay tablets about the Orange heads. Okay they were probably not that smart, but still. Who can tell if Steve Jobs actually lifted it up from there? The Vikings didn't find it hard to grasp the fact of another world. The rest of the world bi-polarized it into heaven and hell. It wasn't as precise as the Vikings had envisioned it but who was complaining. At least they were true to its heart. Heaven was a cool place which almost always appeared blue. Like ice. Hell was fire.

But the best were the Indians. Some of them at least. They came up with a theory that left even the Orange Heads baffled. ‘Everything is an illusion’. Now how can one argue with that? And then they grew Cannabis  One puff of hash and everything was actually an illusion. Even the Orange heads couldn’t deny that. They loved it so much that they became a kind of brand ambassadors for it. One of them once smoked so much in one day that his throat became blue. He sat on a mountain and didn’t get up for days. His friends, the other orange heads, tried to scare him up by putting a snake around his neck, but he still didn’t move. Finally when he got up he told them he had seen God. They understood that he was permanently high. It couldn’t be reversed.

The rest, as they said was history.

The massive use of gold had led to the scarcity of the mineral. Hence it became precious. Everyone wanted them. It became hard for the Orange heads to accumulate it. Life was hard. Hash was banned. They began spreading out into the human world, living human lives. That’s when they started hating it. The humans were still struggling with their shaggy dog stories. Yet the one thing they probably loved as well as hated about the human race was their inability to understand and appreciate a good joke.

http://evilbay.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/07/IMG_1483-768x1024.jpg

                                                                                                     -- kafir.

One Step From Love. (an excerpt).

She insisted on walking the whole way back to the beach but I was worried for her. If I was tired by now, she had to be exhausted as well. I decided to hire a taxi since we had had enough of foot walks by now. Soon enough we reached our destination. The place was throbbing alive with people. Everyone seemed to have come out of their houses to enjoy the sunset over the sea. Children played on the beach as their parents watched them contended to find them happy. Some people even took dips in the sea water and played over the waves mad in the moment.

Evening had approached. Sun had begun its descent in the sky. We sat there on the sand huddled close to each other. Watching people do their thing. Everyone around us seemed so happy. And happy was I to be sitting beside the person I had come to love. But every coin has two sides to it. Though as much as I wanted this day to be endless, I knew we had nothing more than a few more hours left to us. Whatever would happen after that was inevitable. It was all probably written down somewhere in the book of the gods. A story of mine and hers’ lost among sheets and sheets of time. I wish I could know what was to happen to us. But that didn’t matter anyway… it was pretty obvious. We would head back to Bandra by nightfall. Take a stroll down the Juhu beach. Reach the station. Say goodbye. Finish. What more was to be expected? What more could have happened? Nothing.

“I wish I were some superhero kind of guy…  I wish I could stop this moment just as it is…” I said looking at her as a gust of wind ruffled through her hair.

She remained silent for a moment and then suddenly pointing in the distance said,

“Do you see that sand castle?”

I spotted a wrecked sandcastle a few meters away. “Yes…” I said, “But it’s broken… or incomplete… whatever… but it’s not a sandcastle exactly.”

“Come, we will rebuild it…!” she said getting up and running towards it. I followed her as she sat on the sand and started work. First I was uninterested but her zeal and enthusiasm drove me deep into it. We built the castle, but every time, either one of its walls would fall down or something else would happen. It was a lot of hard work to bring sea water and put it in a small depression. We had dug it out especially for water storage. But still it was a lot of fun working alongside her. Our dirty hands would brush against each other. Our glances would reach up to meet from time to time.

At one juncture she got so engrossed that I just left everything and looked deeply unto her face. Feeling her interest, acknowledging her movements. After a while she noticed I wasn’t working and looked up at me. I shifted my gaze instantly and started working again. But then i felt it too. The sensation. The prick you feel when someone is staring at you. Maybe she was looking at me… I looked up and found she was! Just as I looked up she removed her eyes as if guilty of some theft, caught in a shameful act. A faint smile lit my face which clearly shone on her as well. I, once again, playfully this time, picked up my eyes and a moment later she picked up hers as well. This time she spoke up,

“What are you doing?”

“Whatever you are doing…” I said reflecting the question back at her.

“I caught you first!” she said pretending to get annoyed.

“Oh yeah?” I said, “You are such a liar!”

“I’m not a liar! You are!” she hollered and threw a handful of sand on me!

I was shocked for the moment. “Watch now...” I said and bombarded her with fistfuls of sand. She hit me and I hit her. Soon enough we were practically rolling in the sand. but the moments caught on to us. We became aware of strange looks we were getting from people on the beach. I even heard one of them say, ‘it seems this guy never saw a beach before! Look at his antics!’ but it didn’t bother us anyway. We didn’t care what people said. All that mattered to me for the moment was the girl. And I cared for nothing more than keeping her happy. That’s what love is, isn’t it? Keeping your counterpart happy… 

After a lot of fighting in the sand, and even more of cleaning up, we again got back to the castle and completed it finally. We placed a boy and a girl made out of sand in the courtyard. Each one of them representing us. After we had finished, we took a few steps back to marvel at our creation. She turned to me and softly said,

“Look, mr. superhero guy, we stopped time…”

I looked at the sand castle. Definitely we had stopped time. There stood a replica of hers and mine looking out to the infinity of sea. What lay beyond, none of us knew. But for the moment we had left a portion of ourselves in those figurines of sand. We had ‘made’ a memory. But that wasn’t permanent as well. A big wave had to come sometime and wash it all away. It wasn’t only with the sand. Had we placed ourselves on a stone even, the same would have happened. Only it would have taken a little longer and would have been much more painful. This sand represented us beautifully, because it couldn’t hold on for long… neither could we. The tide of time had to wash away both of us. Leaving only fragments behind. The fragments called memory.

I smiled at her and held her close to me. It was the first time I had touched her and it already felt as if she was a part me. She snuggled her face on my chest and said,

“I wondered why girls were generally shorter in height than boys… I guess I know now. I can hear your heartbeat…”

“Then you probably might know what it says…” I said almost whispering.

“It speaks of unexplained things. Impossible things. It wants us to break all rules of this world.” she looked up and said, “It wants us to live again…”

I gave her a gentle squeeze and held on. We stayed like this for a very long time, watching the sun go down in the sky. Gentle waves of the sea washed up on our bare feet leaving a tingling cold sensation behind. I looked up and found whiffs of clouds colored in various tints of the sunset. All of them moved towards the far reaching horizon. They seemed to be laughing at me. Laughing at my helplessness. They had found their eternal companions in rain and wind and sky and lightening. I had found one too; only eternity had shrunk itself into hours in my case. Yet it was eternity for me. Though by the end of this day I was going to lose her, but a part of her soul was always mine. She couldn’t be separated from me now. We were one.

I looked up at the passing clouds and told them with defiance in my eyes, ‘I had found my rain, wind, fire sky, earth, matter, thoughts, soul, god, everything.’

‘I had found myself.’

*end of chapter 10. 

                                                                                                                                                                                                          -- kafir.

Of Stars and Dying Souls.

I have looked up at the stars with longing in my eyes. Even with envy at times… wishing I could possess that glow in my heart… that infinity in my reach… For what does a restless mind crave but recognition. And what does a dying soul need but peace. That blazing light in the heart…

The glimmering hope of darkest sky

O’ stars I wish I still could fly…

Like I soared in my childhood dreams,

Like I will the day I die…

I have a dying soul, yes. It’s stricken down with tardiness, contempt and callousness. It always has been. Common human stuff… can’t help it. It regrets the day I was born. I have often heard myself mutter out loud for no apparent reason --- “Not Again, DARN IT!”

I believe (though suspicious) it could be the voice of my soul. After all who would be happy getting fried over and over again? (APART from the brainwashed chicken souls of KFC who believe their only ambition in cosmos is to burn in animal fat. Yes, it’s gross. And God of course, who keeps getting grilled in the fire of logic. “Oh no! Not again, DARN IT!” Could be his pet phrase too… (But that is, if they both exist.))

   

Just to be clear, I’m not subscribing to any belief systems here. Those eternally doomed chicken souls should deal with their problems themselves. My dying soul’s repetitive “not again…” is a mere reflection of deep inflicted desires about finding peace through change. I’m a revolutionist after all! We all are! We all want change according to our own perspectives. Some tend to be for personal benefits, most for common good. Yes, it's true. I speak from experience. A little introspection will prove it you. Man is, after all, a social animal.

 But then comes the downfall. All our noble ideas go through self rejection, eyebrow arches, hesitation, subjugation, repeated tramping and treading and finally vanish into oblivion. What survives, is the world we know of and see as today. No wonder it is dying too. So am I. So are you. And so is our collective soul.

But don’t get me wrong. I’m not the physician here, nor am I the way seeker. (Yet). I neither have the medicines nor the prescriptions. I’m merely the death news bringer.

Yet I choose to bring the message of hope.

There has been enough digression in the name of religion and tomorrow. Every thinking man must make his own religion. Be the God of him. We must give our ideas a better dimension to take form in.  Shake off this delusion that we are sheep! We are spirits, divine and free. Nothing can hold us down. Ever.

I've never doubted that one man can change the world. Indeed it is the only thing that has!

These human bonds restrain my wings,

Though silent, stifled --- my spirit sings…

A song of hope, a song of fire

A song that burns on reins of sin.

And as these flames take heights anew

My imprisoned dreams can reach out too…

The sickness burns and burns the pain;

The world seems better, so does the view.

I look up at those stars with a longing in my eyes. Wondering what they might think of us mere mortals. They must look down to find the lawlessness of the universe, our ignorance… and start to wonder how the chaos in our lives passes on as just fine.

They won’t be very wrong…

But I’ve been thinking about the meaning of revolution. The beacon of change. Maybe it is a hope beyond me, but I find peace in my dying soul. A force which seems to strengthen it.

And the idea alone pushes me towards that light in my heart …and infinity in my reach.

    I know not much if Gods could care,

And make us what we are --- divine.

But I have looked up to see those stars…

And oh! How wonderfully they shine…  

Some Better Words

As Reviewed on Musings of an Unknown Indian. 

http://www.notapennyformythoughts.blogspot.in/2012/05/lost-pearl-of-paradise-in-search-of.html

! The Lost Pearl of Paradise: In Search of a Fairy by Abiral

Do acquaint yourself with the young mint fresh author: Abiral.

I was curious about the unusual sounding name and was told that it meant "continuous" - as in "aviral dhara". And that it should have been A"v"iral (instead of A"b"iral) - but the regional influence made its presence felt. Being from the east myself, I immediately understood that bit, since we say: "abiral dhara" - for something that flows continuously, perpetually or perennially.

Now for my verdict: This is not a run-of-the-mill story and stands out among the deluge of dreck camouflaged as bestsellers - in our bookstores these days … and is light on the wallet too. Debutant author Abiral Kumar has impressed with his maiden offering and will certainly be someone to watch out for in the future.

The storyline: The Lost Pearl of Paradise: In Search of a Fairy is a story set in modern times, about something that's so much older.

Set deep in the forests of Brahmaputra, this is a story of fate, of fortune, of sacrifice, of friendship, of duty, of rage and resistance, of transformation, of courage and steadfastness; and of relationship in all its myriad shades.

It is an unusual - a hatke - tale woven with abuse, lies, compassion, tenderness, history, trickery, deception and mayhem … but is ultimately a tale of hope and survival.

A story of men and women - transcending great odds. A story of a boy and a girl - overcoming great barriers - of time, of space and geography, in some of the most interesting, enchanting … yet treacherous terrains on earth - where peace jostles with turmoil and violence fights hope and redemption.

It is full of everything; greed, love, innocence, mystery, apathy, horror, grief, et al … are in abundance on the grounds surrounding the mighty and holy Brahmaputra, and so are magic, honour, destiny and romance. And the story plays out, tying in a romantic love story in a most unique way.

But can the past save the future?

The Book Blurb: What if the religious vision of evolution of humans was not entirely true? What if the holy books, prophets and the historians neglected one small detail that is bound to prove costly?

A fragment of the most ancient civilization, surviving till date, is brutally slaughtered in the forests of Brahmaputra. Everyone is dead except for a sixteen-year-old girl who has to drink her own blood to survive. The clues left behind by her father lead her to the mountains where she was born – only to discover that her quest has just begun.

An ancient prophecy foretold of a girl, named Pari, who is destined to bring forth a goddess. Destined to lead the most ancient civilization lost in oblivion towards a new dawn.

Destined to be sacrificed…

All goes as foretold, until she meets Abiel, a small insignificant boy, a negligible dent in her destiny..that is bound to change everything!

The future of the human civilization depends vastly on its past..and the war is on the verge of happening…

The plot: The prodigal son returns … but is it for good? Why does he want the pearlthen?

Two feuding brothers - handsome but no longer young: each with a mission of his own. What is it and who wins?

Two children – innocent and pristine – meet and then part. Will their paths cross again?

A young girl - not yet out of her teens. But why is she looking for the pearl too?

An idealistic young man, son of a powerful minister, answers the call of the mountains and becomes a wanderer, shunning his destiny as his father's heir. Why is he searching for a fairy?

What makes him, a non-violent man, handsome and in the bloom of his youth, risk his all?

And will he find his fairy?

Well, don't expect me to play the spoiler. I will not reveal any more than I have already done. So if you want to know more, get hold of the book and read all you can.

Each character is a mere pawn in this bizarre game of life and death, of power and pelf, of past and future … and each with a story to tell. Or hide.

My two pence: Abiral has a way with words and is quite the storyteller. Frankly I am marveling at his caliber and also doffing my hat - at his amazing imagination. To conceive of such a fantastic plot and then weaving it in words - verse and prose - is no mean feat, even for a seasoned author. What to say of someone who was merely 15-years young!

The book jacket cover is also quite well done. And though the book blurb does give away some clues about the story resting within its pages, it still manages to withhold most of it.

The few typos could and should have been easily pruned out.

However, some sharp editing - to tighten up the plot - would have been welcome. The encounters, the conversations (especially between Pari and Abiel), the character developments - all could have been a bit more compact - in order to maintain the pace and subtlety, while guarding against some events and characters getting too predictable or over done.

The conversation bits should have come out separately, instead of being lumped together in paragraphs. Also some rearranging of the chapters/narrative would make for a smoother flow of the plot/storyline.

And I wish some more thought had been given to the choice of the titles - of each chapter. Frankly, there is great scope for innovativeness here - something Abiral is quite capable of doing justice to. The existing titles sort of rob off the charm and suspense of the following pages, somewhat diluting the interest, and given the nature of the book - that is simply not done.

All those sub-titles in caps … need to go. Time to put on the proverbial thinking cap.

This brings me to the book blurb. Umm, time to reach for the metaphorical screwdriver here as well, and a few turns of it and I firmly believe it will reveal only what it should and whet the readers appetite.

Abiral has chosen to take the road less traveled vis-à-vis the spate of new authors who have presented themselves for us to sink our teeth into. The story at the heart of this novel is most fascinating. And given the kind of events woven into the narrative: taut drama, twists, suspense, conflicts, mystery, romance, surprise elements, a few heart tugging moments, the works …  the pruning off of the deadwood - would only ensure that it continues to retain its charm till the last page has been turned, instead of having its pace and flavour interfered with.

But all said and done, this is the work of a 15-year-old schoolboy. A very promising budding author at that … whose perspective, writing style and imagination will bowl you over.

The story resting within the pages of this book is fresh and there isn't any sense of déjà vu, meaning one does not get the feeling of plodding through rehashed stuff. You know, old wine in new bottle and all that.

My rating: I'm going with a 3.5/5 - for Abiral's maiden offering: amazing concept backed by a limpid writing style. He is one author whose literary progress I'll watch with interest. I now look forward to reading the rest of the trilogy, and am quite sure that their narrative will sweep me up in its fold and keep me there.

In Ruskin's writings we come across "Pari Tibba" quite often. Hopefully someday we'll get acquainted with "Ganji Pahadi" - through Abiral's prolific pen - when the pen is not busy writing some or the other eggjam paper that is!

Details of the book: The Lost Pearl of Paradise: In Search of a Fairy/ Author: Abiral/ Publisher: Frog Books [An imprint of Leadstart Publishing Pvt. Ltd]/ Publishing Date: 2012/ ISBN-10: 9381576687/ ISBN-13: 9789381576687, 978-93-81576-68-7 / Pages: 273/ Price: Rs.195, US $8 [Rs. 184 on Flipkart].

Photograph: The book jacket cover of The Lost Pearl of Paradise: In Search of a Fairy. Picture courtesy: link.

The book can be obtained from: Flipkart

Get in touch with Abiral at: me.abiral@gmail.com

A Thousand Fireflies…

                                            ...just another miracle.

It had been seven years. Seven long years since that sad day she had lost her friend. Seven long years of unending wait. Seven long years of solitude… and hope.  The last she had seen of him was as he turned away from her, leaving her rooted to the ground. She was a small girl then. The feelings that made way to her heart through his words and smiles meant nothing more than a friend’s promise. Somehow her innocent self had come to believe that it could last forever. That those moment could never end… but treacherous, meddling fate intervened at the turn of time and flung them away. Alone she stood at the threshold of their friendship, watching him walk away. Forever.

“Fireflies,” her uncle had told her once, “are the most wonderful creatures of all, my child. Like a thousand twinkling stars they light up the sky. They are much like God’s own fairy lights. Especially meant for li’l fairies like you!”

“But how come I never see them around!?” she had questioned with a pout on her face.

Her uncle had laughed merrily at her innocent question, “They live on the other bank of the river. They seldom cross over to our side. That is why I brought this small gift for you…” he took out his hand and placed the glowing firefly in her eager palm. Wide-eyed she stared at it, unable to say a word out of amazement.

“Whenever you’ll be sad, they’ll flock around, swirling round and round with the breeze, forming a canopy of light. That is the light of hope my child, learn to recognize it. Never give up. Believe. For miracles do happen. I wish I could keep you safe forever… but..”

She thought she saw a hint of teardrop form under his eyelid, but he turned away his head faster than she could notice anymore of it.

She didn’t know what her uncle wanted to tell her then, but the day she had watched her friend turn away from her, somehow, a flock of fireflies happened to pass that way. They flocked over her head swirling around in the breeze, making a canopy of light, a canopy of hope. Just like her uncle had said. That was the day she had decided she wouldn’t give up on him. No matter what. She would come here every evening and someday, just someday he would be waiting for her again. 

As time passes, it erodes away everything, exposing a new layer in its place. Buds give way to flowers, childhood to teen and friendship…? That is one tricky business.  In most cases it has been known to disappear completely leaving only faded memories behind. But if it doesn’t, it metamorphoses into something a lot more complex and painful, yet wondrous all the same--- love.

This evolution for her was gradual. As a result, she didn’t even realize when her innocent feelings had transpired into something much more beautiful but complicated. That too for a boy who never returned… Seven years she had waited for him, and it was beginning to tire her now.  It wasn’t her fault completely. Just another of nature’s fundamentals. Even the stormy sea is lulled at last in its rocky cradle. Even the forest fires sleeps in its own bed of ashes. She was but a human. A slave of her emotions and logic.

Today as she stood by the brook, doubt enveloped her thoughts. She wasn’t sure if she could take this any further. What good would this beget? What reason could be behind this folly? She had spent seven years of her life looking at an empty trail, waiting for him. Waiting for someone who never cared to turn around once! Why should she wait for him anymore?  Yet there was a part of her that believed in him. That hoped for another meeting. All she really needed was a reason to believe.

It had been quite some time since the fireflies had followed her that day. Out of the darkness they flew out once again in the evening twilight, twinkling away in utter bliss. First she couldn’t believe it. But then she remembered her uncle’s words. Whenever you’ll be sad, they’ll flock around, swirling round and round with the breeze, forming a canopy of light. That is the light of hope my child, learn to recognize it. Never give up. Believe. For miracles do happen.  She had never seen one of the species since that day, and now suddenly they had sought her out again. Could this be a sign?

 She didn’t know, but she wasn’t doubtful anymore. Perhaps, the luminescent light of the fireflies had washed away those dark spots. She spread out her arms and looking up at the sky, spun around with happiness. She knew that moment was special. She cried, like a child. Out of happiness. Or rather a mix of emotions. The lump in her throat was insoluble, and still gave a pleasant feeling.

She opened her eyes with a new zest in them. She knew she could hope again. And someday, someday he would show up. That was how things were supposed to be. That is how they will have to be. With a smile she looked up at the fireflies again as they disappeared just as they had arrived. Deep into the twist and turns of life.

Two years later he came. And the fireflies were there waiting for them.