Runaway girl

Why oh why do you run away girl,

Don’t you know you are my black pearl?

I thought it was a crush and so I backed off,

How was I supposed to know you were my laugh?

I can’t be trusted and I can’t be loved,

How do I prove that you are my beloved?

All I know is that I don’t like but I love you,

And no matter what you say I am not gonna bid adieu.

Why oh why do you run away girl,

Don’t you know you are my black pearl?

Like the sand you escape from my finger,

When I try a little bit to hold you tighter.

I know life hasn’t been easy for you,

And its fear that comes between me and you.

You fear the future and a new start,

But all I fear is breaking your heart.

Why oh why do you run away girl,

Don’t you know you are my black pearl?

I fell for you the moment I talked to you,

I know the timing is wrong but it’s true.

All I ever wanted was to keep you happy,

Because watching you smile is my new hobby.

Everybody needs love and I am crazy about you,

I guess I needed a broken heart to write something new.

I too have a dream

Scene 1:                                                   

Punjabi Dhaba is jam packed at 7:30pm on a weekday and around 20 people are standing outside the ‘restaurant’ to eat the famous butter chicken and kulcha that was popularized by Shera Singh 10 years ago. A frail boy walks to a table and places a plate of kulchas.

Customer: Aye boy! These kulchas are not hot. Get a new set.

Boy: Sir I just now made them, it has to be hot.

Customer: So you are saying that I am lying? Oye Shera paaji!

Shera Singh the owner of the dhaba came running to the table.

Shera: What happened ji? Is everything all right?

Customer: What all right ji, this boy is calling me liar. I told him to heat the kulchas and he said he won’t do it.

Boy: I never said I won’t do it I just said….

He felt a sharp pain on his left cheek before he could complete the sentence.

Shera: I am sorry ji, I will heat these kulchas myself and get them for you, in the meantime you enjoy your meal.

Shera pulls the boy to the kitchen.

Scene 2:

Shera slaps the boy once more.

Shera: Are you mad? One night I tell you to serve the kulchas and you get into a fight with the customer!

Boy: I made the kulchas just now! How could it become cold by the time it reached the table?

BAM!!! Another slap, another red cheek this time the right one and a drop of tear rolling down the boy’s eye.

Shera: Now don’t start crying otherwise the kulchas will become salty.

Shera leaves the kitchen.

Boy: I can do any work but I just hate making kulchas, I always burn my hand.

Just then he sees a knife which was used to cut the vegetables and an idea begins to form in his 10 year old mind. He picks up the knife and cuts his palm slightly but hard enough to make it bleed. He starts yelling at the top of voice to get some attention from the customers. Shera Singh runs into the kitchen.

Shera: What happened?

Boy: My hand got cut accidently (in pain).

Shera: How could you cut it so deep accidently? (Looking at the wound)

Boy: I don’t know when it happened, I just felt some wetness in my palm and when I looked I saw this. (Taking his palm closer to Shera)

Shera: Just keep your hand away from me and let me make the kulchas, you go to your room and wait for me to come. Tonight you will learn how to be careful in the kitchen.

The boy went to his room happily even though he knew his joy will be short-lived.

Scene 3

After that night the boy cut his palm at the same spot almost every day to keep his wound fresh.

After a few days

Shera: Why is your wound not healing? I have a feeling that you are doing this to yourself so that you don’t have to work.

Boy: You know what! I am. I am doing this to myself because I don’t like working here.

Shera: You don’t like working here? You break my heart son. I wanted you to run this dhaba after me but I guess you have other important things to do. Let me guess, you want to go to school?

Boy: Yes, I do.

Shera: You want to become a doctor?

Boy: No, I want to become a writer.

Shera: A writer! Yes, of course. I don’t know with what I will have to hit you to set your mind straight, but I won’t give up on you. I fed you, I gave you clothes, I gave you a new life and this is how you repay me?

Shera removed his belt and proceeded towards the boy.

Shera: Let’s see what you want to become after this session is over.

Shera starts hitting him with the belt. The boy starts wailing in pain as the belt rips his skin and he starts moving backwards, he suddenly gets up and starts running towards the entrance of the dhaba and collides with one of the customers.

Boy: Sorry sir.

Customer: What is happening beta? Is your father hitting you?

Boy: He is not my father. I just work for him.

Customer: Beta I am a police officer, is there something you want to tell me.

Boy: Sir, please rescue me. This man hits me every day and makes me do all the work in the dhaba and doesn’t even pay me.

Shera: Sir, don’t mind what he says, he is just the waiter. What would you like to have sir?

Customer: Nothing. I am going to make a call now.

Scene 4

A journalist is yelling into the camera

Journalist: A 10 year boy was being mercilessly beaten up by the owner of this famous north Indian dhaba in Coimbatore. The boy was also made to do all the work in the dhaba. The boy is now in the general hospital and the owner Mr.Shera Singh is in police custody. With cameraman Sudesh Gupta for NDTV this is Asha Mehra.

Scene 5

In the general hospital

Doctor: Move this patient to the operation theatre.

Nurse: Okay doctor.

Boy: What is happening doctor?

Doctor: Nothing beta, only a small operation.

Nurse: (Whispering) why don’t you tell him?

Doctor:  (whispering) how can I tell him that I am amputating his hand? He wants to become a writer, it will break his heart. If I don’t do this he will die. We just have to hope that he can start going to school and become whatever wants to become using his left arm.

Nurse: I don’t know how he got that wound on his palm. The owner in his confession said that he never used a knife.

Doctor: It has to be him who else would do it. But I don’t think even he knew that the knife was rusted.

       

Contract

A middle-aged man was running in an isolated housing colony.  His bloodstained lungi was falling off and his breathlessness was echoing through the street. He knew his end was near but didn’t want to give up yet. He was constantly looking back to get a good look at his attackers, when he felt something hard hit him in the stomach. He fell to the ground without any resistance and coughed out blood. He saw the face; the same face that had haunted him for days was in front of him. As he lay motionless on the ground, his attacker asked, “Do you know the difference between men and women?” The man on the ground was too weak and tired to answer, so he just shook his head. “Men don’t like getting f….”

Sreedharan was in a hurry to get out of his house, as his boss had summoned him.“Where are you going?” asked his wife. “Have to go to the office” he replied. “But today is a Sunday” said his wife, as a matter of fact. “I know baba, but the boss is counting on me to finish some pending work” said Sreedharan. “Then would you buy the groceries on your way home?” asked his wife. “Okay, I will, just make a list and give it to me” replied Sreedharan. As soon as his wife left the room, he took out his gun from the drawer and hid it under his shirt. His wife came back with a piece of paper in her hand as Sreedharan was closing his drawer, he placed the paper in his shirt pocket and walked out of his house and got into his car.

Sreedharan was stopped at the towering gate that protected the mansion inside. A guard knocked on the tinted window of Sreedharan’s car. When Sreedharan lowered his window the guard bowed a little and said, “Namaskaram saar.” The gate was opened and Sreedharan drove his car to the entrance of the mansion. He saw Chacko sitting at the door looking tired and disheveled. Sreedharan got out of his vehicle and walked over to Chacko and touched his feet before sitting next to him. “What happened?” asked Sreedharan. Chacko looked at him with his red eyes and said, “PK left the party.” “What do you mean left the party? Were you not going to give him the ticket during the next elections?” asked Sreedharan. “Yes, we were. But he wanted to contest election this time. He knows he is the most popular man in Kannur and he doesn’t need our party to win. He joined the CPI (M).” replied Chacko. Sreedharan slid back into his chair, letting out a sigh of frustration. Everything that could go wrong before the elections had gone wrong and now the only hope that was left for his boss’ party to win the elections had also been ruined. They were counting on PK’s support to win the elections. “What do you want me to do?” asked Sreedharan. Chacko didn’t say anything; instead he just lay back in his chair. After a while, Chacko replied, “Call the boys.” In about 10 minutes, a Scorpio, driven by Sreedharan, was heading towards Fort Road where PK was campaigning. He had 10 of Chacko’s men with him whom Chacko called ‘boys’. Chacko had instructed them about the plan of action. Sreedharan was not a goon like the others with him in the car; he was just the brain behind all the “dirty work” of the party like quotation, murder, kidnapping etc. He saw himself as the leader of the goons but not a goon himself. After driving in silence for some time Sreedharan saw a fleet of white Ambassadors at some distance waiting at the traffic signal. Sreedharan explained the plan once more to the ‘boys’ and started driving again.

A Scorpio slid in front of the fleet of white Ambassadors and open fired at them through the windows of the Scorpio. The ‘boys’ got out of the Scorpio and continued shooting. A man dressed in white got out of the fourth car in the line and started running. Sreedharan saw him running off into a small street beside the main road and decided to follow him because he knew it was PK. PK was running in an isolated housing colony, his bloodstained lungi was falling off and his breathlessness was echoing through the street. He knew his end was near but didn’t want to give up yet. He was constantly looking back to get a good look at his attackers, when he felt something hard hit him in the stomach. He fell to the ground without any resistance and coughed out blood. He saw the face; the same face that had haunted him for days was in front of him. As he lay motionless on the ground, his attacker asked, “Do you know the difference between men and women?” The man on the ground was too weak and tired to answer, so he just shook his head. “Men don’t like getting fucked” said Sreedharan with a gun pointed at him. A trigger was pressed and a loud gunshot was heard.  Sreedharan slumped to the ground as the police came running accompanied by Chacko. The constables picked up PK from the ground who was critically injured in the firing earlier. “Now do you understand why I told you to remain in our party?” asked Chacko with his eyes moist with glycerin. “CPI (M) was trying to get you killed to show us in poor light and get sympathy votes and this was the goon they hired”, he continued. “I thought he worked for you” said PK. “Everyone has a price PK”, said Chacko. “Learn politics first then you can become a minister” continued Chacko as PK started coughing out more blood as he was lifted and placed in the ambulance. Chacko waited for the ambulance to speed away after which he took out some money from his pocket and placed it on Sreedharan’s dead body and said, “I am a man of my word", saying so he walked to his car and phoned the "boys".

Last Day

The sun is rising through the black sky,

And so is the flame from the ground.

The earth is home to people, who want to die

 But they can’t because they are bound.

People explode with shouts and cries

Still nobody pays attention,

They open their mouths to utter lies

And there is nobody to show compassion.

The hot sun throws light on the wounded

And the night breeze is long gone,

The streets are overcrowded

with the bones of the unborn.

The sun shines with full intensity

and burns the soul of the wicked.

What is left is a burnt city,

And empty cars with parking ticket.

Every home is filled with people,

watching the television like a panel.

They bite their nails and their eyes twinkle,

when they see the same person on every channel.

Some want to know his name and some his position,

And some want to know his place of birth.

They know but have not yet taken a decision,

But they know he is the king of the earth.

An army of beautiful fairies erupt from the sky,

Singing and shouting in other tongues.

They tear the sun and through it they fly

to save the lowest of the rogues.

The master of the fairies comes on the ground

and invites the people on his chariot.

 Television has got the people bound,

And they call him Judas Iscariot.

The master welcomes the wounded and weary,

Who lie on the ground in their own blood.

The people come but the master becomes fiery,

He asks, “Where are the others I raised from this mud?”

 The people shift their gaze and remain mum,

As the master looks upwards, sorry for the promise he kept.

Why do you forsake me? Can’t with me you come?

 A tear trickled down his face and that day he wept. 

Alone

I walk on a deserted path in the middle of a desert,

walking aimlessly in search for water.

I see the shadows of skirts and shirt,

but I can’t see those who matter.

Recognition is to me what water is to the mouth,

I can’t hear the echo of my last applause.

I think I lost my voice, I can’t even shout.

I can still think but my mind is full of chaos.

I live aimlessly, doing what is told.

I feel my spine but feel like a spineless wreck.

I walk in a desert but I still feel cold,

I work so hard, yet don’t have a cheque.

Heat is the pressure surrounding me,

And cactus is the words of my folks.

I smile and laugh to appear full of glee,

but my soul is crushed by your mocks.

The light is vanishing as the sun goes down,

I lose all hope and hear the scorpions crawl.

In the darkest night I wait for my heart to moan,

Is when a smoke from the ground comes up in a ball,

It takes me high into the clouds with my voice on fire,

The heat inside me melts the cold outside,

I see my wishes come true and so do my heart’s desire,

my mind shifts phases like a high tide.

I spent all night twisting and turning,

thinking of the world beyond.

The sun rose in my face, early in the morning,

to show me water in a pond.

I realized the night was a dream,

so I ran faster than my cologne,

to the water that was a mirage of steam.

I screamed and shouted at myself, because I was all alone.

War

The nation was at war with the enemy beside,

and the year was nineteen ninety-nine.

He rushed out of his home, keeping his wife aside.

“Oh sprint not my beloved for you are all mine,

Do not leave me today, you can go tonight”, said his wife.

“Worry not my darling, nothing will happen,

I will protect my country and not play with my life.”

He walked away and didn’t turn to see his wife’s cheeks dampen.

The war began with all its might,

and bodies were stored up in a heap.

He missed his lovely wife and wrote her letters at night,

but during the day he carried supplies in his jeep.

The lonely woman was scared to jitters,

as she was looked upon by all with lustful eyes.

Her day was made when she received her husband’s letters,

but when a man looked at her she ran away like mice.

She slowly began trusting in her own beauty,

and started to play the harlot because of her fame.

When she missed him, her eyes became misty,

but she couldn’t stop her evil ways, as she loved the game.

She soon became an adulterous wife,

and enjoyed it as she saw her body burn.

She continued to tiptoe on the edge of a knife,

but realized her folly before she saw him return.

He was taken aback by her actions,

his mind was shattered just like his body.

“Why do you do this my love, why this sudden diffraction?

You have lost your beauty and all you are now is gaudy.”

She said, “You promised you will be with me forever and ever,

please don’t go away, I can’t bear another war.”

“I never stopped loving you, and I will forever,

you will be my first love, but I am not in love anymore.”

If I die today

                                           If I die today

If I die today, will anyone care?

Will anyone cry, or be able to bear?

Will my friends go in May?

Or will they pray for a holiday?

Will my special one shed a tear?

Or like the past shadow will she get a beer?

Will my teachers stop teaching?

Or will they waste their time advising?

If I die today, will anyone care?

Will anyone cry, or be able to bear?

Will the earth stop and see the stars twinkle?

Or will they start digging with a golden sickle?

I have heard what you sow is what you reap,

Then why is it that I die in the midst of this heap?

Will my country change if I die?

Or will they keep letting crime get high?

If I die today, will anyone care?

Will anyone cry, or be able to bear?

Will my mother be numb or will she go mad?

Will my father keep playing or will he feel bad?

Will a book be written or a movie be made out of my life?

What will happen to the tall girl supposed to be my wife?

Will God forgive me for what I have done?

Or will he send me to hell with my head on the gun?

No, I won’t die today,

I will overcome this and die another day.

There are many stories to be told and many hearts to be won,

battles to be faced and work to be done.

But still a question remains in my mind,

It sounds silly but is one of a kind,

If I die today, will anyone care?

Will anyone cry, or be able to bear?