Lookin Back..

mm...
I look back in time..the way it flew..and i look back at everything that happened in 9th..
turns out it was this grade that gave me the greatest moments of my life
and i'll miss it like hell..i met my best friend here..i met the girl i love here..i met the 1st teacher who was humble enough to call me "her fav student"
i met people..who i can call mine,forever..
i guess times will change now..with the 10th grade coming..and all the pressure..
and other stuff which is gonna change evrything i love in here..
my english teacher..not teaching me
my best friend n my gang..will be "shuffled" away from me..and because of a few studpid external power(for more details..contact the principal)..i won't be able to hang out with the girl i love either..
time..the way it flies..it's sadly intrigueing,and brilliant..

Lessons in silence.

While returning home today after having a relatively uneventful match of cricket, I, for some unknown reason, decided to take the kaccha rasta. Halfway down the road, I saw an old man lying on the side, with an even older looking golden colored Luna opposite to him. Old is surely gold. As I was passing, he beckoned me towards him, and I stopped. I'd put him around 80 years old. He didn't seem to be able to speak, because he first pointed towards himself, then towards his Luna, and then made a kicking action with his leg.

I understood the message; he needed help in starting it.

At first, I felt alarmed. Was this some trap to steal my cycle? (it's anyway worn-out, they'd have problems with it.) But then I saw the look of helplessness in the man's eyes and immediately got off the cycle. As I studied the dated controls on the handlebar, I realized this was going to be no mean feat. I tried searching, unsuccessfully, for the kick start, but it was of no use. The old man saw what I was doing and slapped his head. OK. Pretty embarrassing. He slowly got up, shuffled towards me, then tardily guided my foot towards the pedals. He then pointed towards the accelerator, while at the same time kicked into the air with his foot again. I understood what he meant, kicked the pedals, and accelerated. Nothing happened. The old man slapped his head again and produced a pitiful noise from his throat. I really felt like just leaving him there and running away, but decided against it. I took it up as a challenge.

The old man did all the previous actions again, and then pointed ahead. "Aap chahaten hain mein chale jaoon?" I asked him, speaking for the first time. He shook his head, repeated the action, this time more vigorously. I got it. I had to run and then kick! This was turning out to be more than what I had bargained for. So I ran ahead, kicked the pedals, and- baam! I fell down.
There was a loud impatient noise behind me, the old man was looking livid, slapping his head. I quickly picked up his Luna, and stood aside. He pushed me away, and beckoned a passerby. The old man showed him what to do, but the other guy shook his head and walked away. This made me angry, and I decided I wouldn't go away without helping this man.

So I silently took the ruthless Luna in my hands again, and followed the procedure. Voila! It worked! A spluttering noise came, and the phatphatiya came to life. I looked around, to see the old man smiling jubilantly. As I was handing him the Luna back, I left the accelerator, and it switched off. Arrrgh! The old man slapped his head, yet again. I tried valiantly to start it again, but failed. After I guess six tries, it finally took some pity and made the disgusting noise again. This time, I carefully and slowly handed the bike back to the old man, who was looking really happy. He kept his hand on my head, and I could understand all the things he wanted to convey to me. That moment, I realized that actions speak louder than words. He then drove away, leaving me standing there for quite some time, the image of his twinkling eyes still imprinted in my mind.

I learnt a big lesson today, I needed to improve my communication skills!

-

Bluaaks

Mad-Ear.

Bluaaks-Thu!

Bluaaks-Thu!

Just like we have a National Symbol, a National Anthem, a National Animal, and so many others, why not have a National Sound? There's no need to search for it. Our eardrums have recorded the frequency permanently even before we were born. You can hear it everywhere, just lean on the rooftop wall of your house during the early morning, and look down at the hustle and bustle.

Bluaaks-Thu!

I did this, and formed a law (yeah, something like what Newton did). At any given moment, a human, say A, will be able to see any other human, say X, make a queer noise in his/her throat and then spit out a red stuff with the velocity, v. Let the state of the spitter's teeth be measured by its' color, C, the darker, greater the magnitude, and R be the reaction seen in the observer. So here goes the equation:

R(A)=X(v)C

I inserted the numbers, and the results made me nearly retch. Quite a reaction for studying someone else's reaction!

Anyway, my question is, where and how was this intricate process of inserting the tambaaku in the mouth started? Just carefully follow the actions of the driver of a car at a traffic signal. He'll probably follow these steps:

1. Greedily shake out the contents from the brown packet.
   
2. Grind them hard on your hand by using the index finger of the other hand.
   
3. Pull down your lower lip, and then insert the contents into your mouth.
   
4. Then, for some unknown reason, slap your hand hard!
   
5. Savor the taste in mouth for about 5 minutes (while happily yellowing the teeth), and then-
   

Bluaaks-Thu!

It can be seen coming out of anything, and everything. Be it an Ambassador, a Porshe, a penthouse, even the local toilet! Our nation's full of it, at every government office, you can see a decade old layer of some red stuff on the wall, thicker than all the walls combined.

Bluaaks-Thu!

So let's make the 14^th of February the National Spit Day, because moral policemen like Sri Ram Sene have anyway branded Valentine's Day as "foreign crap". That's good, because then we would have to celebrate only one occasion.

That's all, and now I'll end with a- hang on, I'll just relieve my mouth of some stuff by spitting out of the window,

Bluaaks-Thu! Period.

-

Bluaaks,

Mad-Ear.

Dhinchaak Dhinchaak

I'm extremely scared of performing in the public (In fact, starting this blog was itself a frightful experience). So when our class decided to farewell the 10^th graders in a traditional manner (read dancing), I freaked out. I was shy of dancing in front of my own reflection, let alone a hundred familiar students! Then another thing dawned on me, dancing. It was one skill that had always managed to escape my outstretched begging hands. Of course, I thought, I could always raise my index finger and yell balle balle, just like a Punjabi, but then I remembered Bal Thackerey. What if one of his Marathi manoos fanatics saw me dancing like a wretched North Indian, surely then I would have to face his music! No, I'll dance like everyone else does, to the beat.

How wrong I was.

Understanding the song they'd selected was difficult enough. I just couldn't get the hang of the music, it sounded as if it had been pumped out of the smoke exhaust present in one of those government Ambassadors, which was probably last serviced when the British were packing up their suitcases and getting ready to go. So I started imitating everyone else. Their hand and leg coordination was perfect. I tried, but soon realized it was looking foolish. Then I understood the reason. My limbs had gone stiff. They just couldn't handle the attention of a dozen pair of eyes.

So I gave up, returned to my desk, which was laughing with mirth at me, and started writing this. I felt this was a much better way to communicate with people, rather than wildly rotating the hips. I finally understood Thackerey's sentiments. His hatred towards them North Indians wasn't because he thought of them as intruders, it was because they could raise their index fingers anywhere in the universe (even a black hole) and yell balle balle.

So much for the dhinchaak dhinchaak.

-Bluaaks

Mad-ear.

Distractions

The first post on this blog is a short story by Toothy, who says she wrote it to distract herself away from the pain caused in her teeth by the braces. :D Pitiful.

The Dream

Chapter-1

"As I raise my hand into the night sky, I see the cold moon and feel the cold breeze on my palm like a streak of fear in my nerve. Suffocating me as my eyes go red, I hear the wolves crying and see the black shadows. I-"

Morgy- Mike, Mike! Honey, wake up! We've got to go fishing today, remember?

Mike- I-oh!

Morgy- What happened, you OK?

Mike- I, duh- nothing, just saw a funny dream.

Morgy- Hmph! OK, take a shower, get ready as quickly as possible. You've got half an hour.

Mike- Kidding! Just half hour?!

Morgy- Yup! Don't forget to take kit. Then we have to pick up the Billoneys on our way.

Mike- Billoneys? No way! I'm not going to let them inside my car! I hate it, I say I hate it when Gerry fiddles with my dashboard!

Morgy- GO! We're getting late!

Mike- But I'm not-!

Morgy- Bu- but! We-

Mike- No!

Morgy- OK! OK! I'll tell them we're going to my in-laws. Fine?

Mike- O- hoh! Ah! Love you!

Morgy- (Hmph!) Love you too.

 

Chapter-2

[Morgy is packing their lunch in the kitchen. While cutting the sandwiches, she accidently cuts her thumb]

Morgy- OUCH! Arrgh! God! It hurts! Bandage, where are you?!

[In a little hurry and pain, she drops the first aid box, which bursts open.

The bandage rolls out and under the chest. Morgy bends down to get it, and screams.

 

Mike comes down to see her, who's examining her thumb, which till a moment ago bore an ugly wound. It's gone. Morgy decides to stay quiet about it, but nevertheless is quite perturbed.]

[Mike and Morgy on their way to the lake.]

Mike: You look worried. Problem?

Morgy: (putting on a smile.) No, no! everything's fine! Just wondering what kind of fish we'll get…

Mike: (Satisfied) Yeah! Can't trust the off-season!

[Later, while they were fishing]

Mike- Aha! I think I got a really big one! Come, I might need some help with this guy!

Morgy- Oh damn! It is heavy!

[ On the count of three, but tug hard. Suddenly, the thing looms up. Seeing what it was, Morgy gasps and drops the fishing rod, causing both to lose balance and trip over.]

Mike- Ah! Morgy, what's wrong?!

Morgy- Didn't you see that?! That was a body, human body! And you ask me what's wrong!

Mike: It is a big fat cat fish, for heaven's sake!

Morgy: What? Cat fish? It's not even a cat's body!

Mike: Morgy? Look at me, it is a fish.

Morgy: (Surprised) What? Oh, yes, yes it's a fish…

[Mike hugged her tight and took her into the rental shack.]

[During night.]

[Mike, while sleeping, sees the funny dream again. His body starts to turn yellow.]

Mike: Oh god! That dream is not going to let me sleep!

[He suddenly realizes that Morgy is not beside him on the bed.]

Mike: Morgy? Morgy? Where are you?

Morgy: (Trembling) Mike! Come here, quick! See this! I saw, I saw him while you were fishing and he doesn't look a bit like a cat fish.

Mike: What? Is he dead? Let me check!

Morgy: N-no! Mike! It could be dangerous!

[Mike doesn't listen and goes out. Morgy follows. As they approach him, the dead man catches hold of Morgy's neck.]

Dead Man: (In a rasping voice) Kill it! Kill it before it's too late!

[Mike and Morgy, scared out of their wits, run into the shack and close the door, trembling.]

[They look through the window. The dead man's gone.]

 

Chapter-3

[The next day at home.]

[Tring! Tring! The bell rings.]

Morgy:Mike! I think that's the Billoneys! Open the door!

Mike: BIlloneys? Here? Oh ho! I'm not here!

Morgy: MIKE!

Mike: Bye honey!

[Morgy reluctantly goes and opens the door herself.]

[Wearing a red cap and looking down, the person wishes her a good morning and the looks up.

Morgy steps back and falls. In a hurry, she pushes the door with her foot and drags herself in a push.]

Mr. Billoney: Mrs. King? Are you all right?

Morgy: (Regaining composure) Ah! Mr. Billoney! Good morning!

Billoney: I brought some wine you were asking for the other day….?

Morgy: Oh! Er! Thank you!

Mr. Billoney: See you later then, and I hope your in-laws are keeping fine!

Morgy: (Giving a fake laugh) Of course! They're wonderful! Bye then! And thanks!

[She closes the door, trembling.]

Morgy: Mike! You can come out, he's gone! Got your wine.

Mike: (Emerging) Great! But why are you limping?

Morgy: I saw him again! I wished Billoney morning and when he replied, I saw that dead guy's face when Billoney replied!

Mike: (A look of awe on his face) You mean, you saw flash or something of that guy on Billy's face?!

Morgy: Uh-huh!

[Both silent for a moment.]

Morgy: We need to stop this!

Mike: How? (thinks for a minute, then says slowly.) Do you want to call the priest?

Morgy: No point in not calling, let's do that.

[They call Father from the town church.]

[Father at the door]

Morgy: Come in father! Would you like some coffee?

Mike: Hey! You forgot beer!

Morgy: (Frowning) Pardon me, father, but if Mike stops joking the world would cease to exist.

Father: It's fine, I was also a cheeky guy when I was of your age! So tell me, what is the problem?

[Mike and Morgy tell him everything that had happened in the past 2 days, including Mike's dream.]

Father: Very well… All right. Now I would like you both to go out, have a walk, while I just study your home a bit more closely.

Mike: (Scared) OK.

[As Mike and Morgy were talking in the garden, they suddenly heard a scream from the house, and then saw Father running out of the house.]

Mike: Why did he run away like that?!

Morgy: Mike, I'm getting scared now. Is this situation bad enough to frighten even Father?

Mike: (In an assuring tone) Don't worry, I'll go and ask him. He must be overacting or something…

[He goes to the church and meets the Father there, who looks badly shaken.]

Mike: What was the reason for which you left so abruptly?

Father: Son, this is going to shock you. I'm afraid to say that the coming child is a demon. You have to kill him!

Mike: (Dazed) What?! Morgy is not even pregnant! How can you say that?

Father: Go home, son. Don't bother me now!

[Mike doesn't push the issue further and returns home.]

 

[Morgy on the door.]

Morgy: What happened, what's wrong?

Mike: Calm down! There's no need to worry, he just felt something wrong. He admitted that it was just a an impulse, nothing else. He's purified the house, so those stupid incidents won't happen again.

Morgy: (Suddenly brightens up) OK! Now let me tell you the good news! We're going to have a baby!

Chapter-4

[It was as if the world had spun around Mike. Blood drained out of his face, and he didn't say anything. This didn't go unnoticed by Morgy.]

Morgy: What's wrong, Mike? Anything wrong? You don't want the baby now?

Mike: (Composing himself) No, no! It's wonderful news! Can't wait!

[After the purification of the house, everything returns back to normal. Morgy stops seeing flashes of the strange man, while Mike doesn't have the strange dream again.

But then, change is inevitable.]

[Fast forward six months.]

[Morgy is now seven months pregnant. That's when things get worse. She becomes ill. The doctors can't diagnose the reason behind it, and declare the worst: she doesn't have much time. Mike starts having his strange dream about the deathly night again, this time with background music.]

[During just one of these dreadful days, the Father, who somehow got to know about the Kings' misery, comes to visit them.]

Father: Mike, my dear son, there is still some time left. You can, and you have to kill the baby. That's the last and final solution left.

Mike: (Clearly in a moral dilemma) Hmm. OK. I'm ready, to kill the child.

[Mike and the Father, on the Father's instructions, pray to the gods in the Church, and then poison the child, who still wasn't born. But then, tragedy struck. The poison somehow also started to afflict Morgy.

She soon becomes extremely frail and weak.

A few days later, she's breathing her-]

Mom: Morgy! Morgy! MORGY! Wake up! You've been sleeping for 12 hours! Holiday or not, you should be out of bed by 8, young lady!

[Morgy awoke with a start, hanging somewhere between the dream and reality. Then, slowly, like someone who had understood the joke late, she started laughing, laughing in relief.

She realized that all the terrible things that had taken place would not really happen!

 

How wrong she was.]

 

The End.