Alizey

Alizey

"I'm in imminent trouble Alizey please I need your help. I can't survive this life like this. Didn't you tell me you'll always be with me in time of need? So this is the time, let me get inside or they will kill me in silence. I want to die in the battlefield to make myself count among the martyrs. Alizey wake up they are coming. They have daggers hanging from their waist. Alizey open the door. I want someone to witness my death or it will get wasted. God they are approaching me; what do I do Alizey tell me?."

"What's wrong Ali; why are you here this late? You shouldn't be out here like this."

"Alizey tell me you won't leave me? And you'll love me until the end of the time. Tell me you will not leave me for that Zafar. Tell me you don't love him."

"Ali this is not a right time for conversation like these; get yourself a place to hide or it will cost my safety as well."

"Just for once Alizey tell me that you still love me. I ventured out to hear this from you. This is my only hope Alizey."

The crowd approached. The door was shut.
A dagger was stabbed that punctured Ali's heart that beat for Alizey a moment before. They marched ahead. A great sense of disquiet pervaded the night.

Early in the morning, stepping on Ali's blood stain, Zafar exited through Alizey's door.
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Five Rupees

Five Rupees

"I won the kite maa look! It's so red. I'm off to the ground. Don't call me until dusk. I've done my homework."

"You and your ground."

The kite was high in the sky when the father kicked on his back.

"Papa I didn't steal the money papa. Trust me I won it on my own. It came flying and I jumped and won it papa. Like this. No papa don't hit me with the belt please papa. It hurts and I bled the last time. Papa no. Maa save me. Maaa. Maaa! Not with this stick papa, okay hit with the belt I won't stop. Papa please. I didn't steal the money; I won the kite papa trust me."

"I earned the money you harami, and you steal and buy kites; you are not a shehzada you brat. I had two five rupees coin in my pocket and now there is only one. Why, you harami tell me?" .

"Allah stop it, he isn't moving at all. Please call the doctor. Oh god what did you do to him. Zubi beta uth. Allah. Zubi..."

"Kafan for this size will cost four hundred and fifty five rupees sahab."

"Here it is. Wait I've one five rupees coin; you return me the notes only." .

The father dug into either side of his pockets.
Both of the pockets had five rupees coins.

Train

Train

Ten rupees will suffice for the ticket. The station master will come easier this time. I've washed my kurta and the stitches aren't broken anymore. Tomorrow is Friday and I will surely have a good business there. I've heard how rich people visit the mosque. They unmistakably pay huge alms to all the beggars. If I invest ten rupees I'll surely be able to double it up in no time. I'll not have to seek aid from anyone for few days. If luck persists I'll stay over there until I have earned for my prosthetic leg. Now I've to head to the station before I'm sweaty and my armpits stink. The station master will again keep me from getting in, if I stink.

The heat is too much to bear today. If I walk fast I'll sweat, if not the train will depart without me.

I should take a shortcut, yes.

Not this again; the never ending queue. It’s hot here too. My eyebrows are wet; my armpits must be too. I should have bathed twice.

It’s getting late. Still ten more people before me. Now six. Two more.

"Please dear ticket master do it faster"

Allah this heat.

"Thank you, sir"

I need to run before the train leaves.

Faster or another week of suffering.

"Excuse me sir, let me get inside; please."

"Where is your ticket."

"It’s right here. Allah, where did it fall?”

Please wait, I have it. I'll find out, once I'm inside; it must be somewhere inside my jhola. Sir please let me get inside."

"Disgusting, keep your hands off of me, you reek of rotten eggs. Where is your ticket?"

"Sir here it is; the ticket. Now let me in."

"It’s crumpled and damp, the codes have faded. This ticket is invalid. Sorry."

"But I paid for it. Sir, please. I'll throw away my kurta I won't stink then. Here it is."

"You shameless swine you do have a spine to stand naked in front of me. How dare you?"

"Sir no please don’t hand me to the police. I'm wearing it back again, please don’t hit, not here sir please. The train... The whistle... Station master, please let me in. I can't get in. Hold my hand young man, please. Do me a favor please, please."

"Take him away."

"Come son of a bitch."

The iron wheels rolled on and on; the timid cries fell on deaf ears.

Bird

Door closed. Lied on his back.

The floor felt cold; the bare skin numbed.

Lips dried, eyes shone.

A bird hallucinated before eyes.

A knock on the door, a thud on the window; the wall shook.

Stood up, head held between hands, it rang like death.

Door couldn't be reached, steps couldn't be relied.

Eyes that shone could still see the chains.

Tired feet, staggering steps, nowhere he reached.

Dreams hung from the ceiling; higher it receded, breaking the roof, piercing the clouds,

Exploded in sky.

Their shells fell on head.

He fed onto the shells.

Shell tasted bitter, colder than the floor.

Now the knock louder, now the thud heavier.

Now the door broken, window went missing.

Mirror then shattered.

Debris punctured viens.

Floor now red, warmer than mother.

Sleep freed him.

Dream brought bird - once flew with him.

CRADLE OF TIME

       

Cradle of Time

He fell asleep swinging on Time's cradle. But deep in the woods of 'Beings' innumerable cradles swung. He woke up and faced what the slumber cost him. That blue cradle that swung right beside him was empty. He tried to recall every word that he had exchanged and then tried to breathe the same air of last night.
The air left was such that it detested his nostrils. He felt smothered. The air didn't come inside his lungs as if they were ending up in other organs. He staggered; the hands were cold and wet, tried and failed to take hold of something. But the fall was inevitable. Every cradle in the woods was occupied except the blue one that swung on its own. He tried getting closer but it swung no more. Head hung loose when a drop of rain crashed on his shoulder. He stepped back and looked above. Clouds had gathered overhead; it followed every step. He ran with the blue cradle but the limbs took him nowhere until the eyes were closed. Drenched in rain he panted for air. The blue paint was withering away. His hands were turning blue; the grip wasn't loosened when he ended up in a ditch. The cradle started to melt, his mouth started having its taste and in no time he drank the cradle.
He became blue and everywhere he saw was skies.
And then he soared up in the sky.

Hello Darkness.

Hello Darkness

               It is dark everywhere. Not dark enough to reach my home where I have kept a box inside which there are some books where letters dance and glimmer in the darkness. My home is always full with these boxes; I see light pierce out through their gaps. It makes the wall glow. My eyes are lit by its reflections and they assimilate in me. I stare at the alphabets and witness their dance for they always fill my heart. I remain a constant spectator. Once the show was on and I asked to let me dance along. They said I'm dark. I drowned myself in the light by reading a book full of alphabets. They were gone long ago; it was late. I was a performer bereft of any spectator but I still danced under the sky light. My hands clapped, my feet tapped and next moment my limbs grew tired. I had no spectators. In the end I returned to my abode and became a spectator again until I asked them one more time to let me dance with them. 

I'm darker, they said.

All Lives Matter.

      I've no enmity against any race but I do have a deepest contempt against the system that the supremacy of the white race entailed. That is Neo Capitalism, the harbinger of all the racial and religious conflicts. So it is a byproduct of the system that we are trapped in. Poverty, malnutrition, animal cruelties and climate change which are seldom talked about are another byproduct of the system. 'Idea of Morality' has been distorted by the hands of the few. Altruism has no space and howmuch ever is left is entirely replaced by greed. We people have forgotten to be good for the sake of it. We do good because we want something better in return. Needless to say today we even remember God not for the love we have for him but for a bargain that he will bestow us with something we desire. Its easy to brand anyone racist, communal, brutal and immoral but we need not to forget that changes need to be widespread. We don't even know that our action or thoughts no matter how small it is in front of the global actions always contribute to its grand faćade of immorality. The least we can do is to distort back our vision of morality and bring back some of the essence of a better civilization i.e altruism and morality. We don't need big changes but we need a collective small changes in human behaviour and thoughts which is the biggest change we can offer to the society.

Reek of the Unusual.

Reek Of the Unusual.

Kid: Why are you always at work and never take a leave? you are so boring.

Sweeper: Kid, no matter how much I clean the streets, the drains are always brimming with filth. I've gotta take care of these or who else would?

Kid: Maa says monsters live inside the drains and I Shouldn't even get close to them. Aren't you afraid of the monsters?

Sweeper: Yes but he never dared to touch me. I reek of shit. 

Kid: Don't you have swords?

Sweeper: No, I've got my stench.

Kid: How powerful you are.

Sweeper: Once you start reeking of the unusual, you can tame any monster.

Kid: Can I tame my Father too?

Sweeper: Yes, but first you've to start reeking of the unusual.

Kid: Smell my mouth, father peed inside yesterday. Am I still not reeking of the unusual?