Chronicles of Dearth – Three Gods Two mistakes

…there lived three Gods named Amar, Akbar and Anthony.

Now this happened much before Dearth was filled with Insanes, when it was called Buxom. The three Gods were great friends and had a blast attending cloud-room dance parties thrown by Gods in the neighbouring star systems. In one such party, The Goddess of 100 hands boasted about the creatures she had created in one of the planets in her star system. Soon, other Gods joined in with similar claims. The whole conversation left Amar, Akbar and Anthony deeply embarrassed. They were like nomads wandering through galaxies and dating young goddesses. They realised that they had a status to maintain if they had to remain in the circle.

The three Gods
(Image from here)

The three of them visited the Market of Planetary System where old Gods who were too old to look after planets sold their share. They met God Dharmendra who was half dead and could hardly lift his finger. God Dharmendra was a legend, one of the most handsome gods ever. But like in all families of Gods, the second son of his first wife – God Bobby, was a notorious black sheep. Anyways, so the story goes that they bought the Klatoon System (similar to our Solar System) from him and then chose a green planet on it called Buxom to populate it with their personal creations. The three Gods decided that each of them would create life without sharing it with the other two.

“It will be like a surprise,” God Amar said.

They had realised that their casanova days were behind them and it was time to settle down and what better way than to create a planet as an ode to their friendship. Well, it was their first mistake. If they would have chosen separate planets things would have been different. They did not realise that the fact that they have been together since childhood affected their creative powers. So God Amar created Manu and Shatrupa, God Akbar created Aadam and Hawwa and God Anthony created Adam and Eve. Even though they had no idea what the other was creating, they created replicas and placed them on different parts of Buxom. The pairs were left to discover sex and reproduction on their own as it was not appropriate for Gods to indulge them.

When God Amar, Akbar and Anthony finally met and exchanged notes, they were shocked to see the similarities between their creations. At first they thought of putting them immediately on different planets but the other 27 planets of the Klatoon System were inhabitable and the Gods were not rich enough to buy more planetary systems.

“Why do we need to separate them? Let them stay on the same planet,” God Amar suggested.

“Yes. They will eventually discover each other and live like brothers,” God Akbar squealed with delight.

“Just like us!” chirruped God Anthony.

Well, that was their big fucking second mistake.

The three pairs eventually undearthed the formula to reproduce and went out of control. Soon Buxom was teeming with their children and grandchildren. It was like a chain reaction. The Gods watched Buxom from the clouds while munching Moon chips and Meteor popcorns. They never interfered but yes, they fondly gave a combined name to all their creations – Insanes (pronounced Insaan). The males were called Hinsanes while the females were named Shinsanes.

Soon, the three kinds learnt to make fire, created wheels and ships and traveled beyond their lands and came across each other. But nothing went as per planned. Each of the race believed in the supremacy of their Gods and thus began the blackest era in the history of Buxom. Insanes killed and tortured each other in the name of their Gods. They wanted to win Buxom over. They wanted only their God to be called bestest. They devised strategies to convert each other, they sent missionaries to pull people to their side, they tried to cleanse the planet by obliterating each other. This went on for hundreds of years. None of them were successful but never understood the futility of it. They created spaceships, nanobots, submarines, supersonic jets, skyscrapers, bullet trains, artificial hearts, robots but never gave up the fight to wipe out each other. The three kinds branched into a few hundred more. Things got murkier and confusing. POLs (Piece of Lands) were created (similar to countries on Earth). Eventually Buxom was renamed Dearth after all its resources were squeezed out.

The Gods sat in the clouds and watched. At first they were terrified at the turn of events but then a feeling of amusement took over. They mulled interfering but then where was the fun in that?

“I think we must study them so that we make something better later on,” God Amar said once. God Akbar and Anthony agreed.

“I do not understand why Insanes have this concept of divine intervention? That is bloody crazy. Why will the three of us try to control a billion insanes? That’s insane!” God Akbar remarked.

“Oh come on! I think they are wired that way,” God Anthony said.

So, the Gods watched. Centuries passed. Sometimes, there was hope which was then mercilessly squashed by a concentration camp or an atom bomb or a burning train or a plane flying into a building. The thought of destroying Dearth never passed the minds of the Gods. After all, it was the planetary system of God Dharmendra. Also, the mistake of creating Insanes and the events that followed had given them immense popularity amongst other Gods. Never in the history of the Universe had anyone seen something as remotely exciting as this planet. They started inviting other Gods to watch the show. They threw expensive parties in the clouds and had hundreds of Goddesses running after them. From three nondescript, nomadic Gods, they had turned into eternal celebrities. Soon they started war betting between various POLs on Dearth and won more planetary systems.

And so Dearth went around Klatoon year after year, being nothing more that a rich source of entertainment.

This was a brief history of the creation of Dearth and how it reached its current state. To know more read the following chapter – Chronicles of Dearth : The case of missing Yaun-doms

God Dharmendra with God Bobby, God Sunny and God Chewbecca (Image from here)

Chronicles of Dearth : The case of missing Yaun-doms

….there was a planet called Dearth. The dominant specie on the planet was called Insane (pronounced In-saan*). The name of the planet had seen better days but Insanes had squeezed out all of the planet’s resources and thus a resolution was passed to change the name of the planet to commemorate the achievement.

An interesting episode happened on POL011 on planet Dearth in the klear 5690*. POL or Piece Of Land is very similar to how we define countries on Earth.

POL011 was the second most populated POL on Dearth and this was a major concern for the King. Now the king did not have any real power other than to be a poster boy or pardoning convicts he found sexy. The real power sat with his Prime Minister who was a part of a governing body. Sadly, the Prime Minister was as helpless as the King. He was deaf and dumb and was puppeted by the governing body run by Madaam Pasta.

Population explosion was such an immense problem on POL011 that the King, PM and Madaam Pasta decided that insanes have to be educated about not producing babies every time a power cut happened. Educating the insanes of POL011 was as difficult as asking the PM to speak two words, so the governing body finally passed a bill to put 11000 yaun-dom* machines throughout the POL. Yaun-dom were special devices very similar to our condoms but with a special chip embedded in them which made them reusable.  They were almost like mini- robots that could lid the desirable places.

One fine Klatoony day (Klatoon was the name of their Sun), a minister came running as Madaam Pasta was pouring  cere-lack in baba’s mouth. Baba was her 40 Klat-years old son.

“Madaam!! They are all gone!” the minister said as he kissed her ring.

“Elaborato,” Madaam said with exasperation.

“Madaam, all the Strawberry flavoured yaun-doms are missing from the machines!” the minister said.

Madaam raised one of her eye brows and looked at baba.

“What? Noooo! Of course not! And that is not even my favourite flavour! Why don’t you ask Zeezaazee?” Baba said throwing his hands in the air.

” Your Zeezaazee is a poor farmer. I don’t think he uses local brands,” Madaam said thoughtfully.  

A few minutes later, an SOS message was sent to the ministers to immediately teleport themselves in the King’s War room. After everyone had arrived, the Prime Minister was the first to speak. He talked in sign language which was interpreted and voiced by a T608BOSS robot standing behind him.

“Did we check with Ass-aram? We might have to raid his ass-rum,” the robot said.

“I don’t think he uses yaun-doms,” the King said trying to hold a giggle which earned a stearn look from Madaam.

“What about Imraan Kissme?” a minister asked.

“Checked. He is clean.”

“No one in this fuc*ing POL uses a yaun-dom. That was the fuc*ing point of installing the machines. Do you even realize what will happen if the media gets a whiff of this?” Madaam Pasta screamed, Unable to hold herself anymore.

The robot coughed.

“Get the MIB on it,” Madaam said.

The MIB (Madaam Investigation Bureou) was a coveted organization that was given only those tasks that were supposed to linger on for hundreds of Dearth years. So this decision emancipated nothing but a collective gasp from the ministers and a quick sign from the PM which made the robot gasp an electronic gasp.

The MIB started its investigation but things were about to get worse. Soon, the chocolate flavoured yaun-doms went missing from the machines. And then the news was leaked to the media. And then the banana flavoured ones went missing too.

The media houses did everything from organising panels to discuss the order in which flavours went missing to showing closeups of yaun-dom vending machines for hours as hinsanes (male insanes) cried bitterly holding the machines in their arms. As the king pondered over a proposal of installing hi-tech fly shaped, almost invisible 6755SONAM cameras on all the machines, media houses conducted audience polls to know the favourite flavous of the citizens.  Unsurprisingly, the result came in exactly the order in which the yaun-doms went missing.

[Others including lichi, pomegranate, butter scotch, vanilla etc]

Even after the cameras were installed and MIB worked full time on the case, flavours after flavours vanished from the machines. There was anger in the inhabitants of POL011 as they loved getting things for free and the King seemed simply incapable of providing them the simplest of such free pleasures. There were marches on the street where insanes dressed up as huge yaun-doms and burnt outdated robots dresses up as the King, PM and Madaam. The Po-lice was deployed who stunned the protestors (especially shinsanes (female insanes)) by touching them with their tasers at inappropriate places. The situation went quickly out of hand.

The PM finally addressed the POL. The robot stood behind him and passed on his message as the PM gestured.

Finally, the yaun-dom machines went empty and MIB searched fervently for an excuse for its incompetency. The MIB chief got a personalized slap from Madaam Pasta. The King launched a new scheme called YYHH (yaun-dom yaun-dom Hota Hai) where the citizens were given door to door service of their favourite flavours. A huge amount of currency was transferred from the SOD (Save Our Dearth) fund for this activity.

The flaw in the scheme was stark the very next year when the sale of balloons declined during the festival of la-colourina*. The king realised with horror that the insanes of POL011 wanted to collect free yaun-doms for an entirely different reason but it was too late to make any amendments. To recover the losses, Madaam Pasta gave a brilliant idea to increase the breathing tax.

*  *  *

Meanwhile, in the neighbouring POL92, the notorious gangster The-wood was laughing hysterically in the company of the King of POL92 and his ministers. POL92 was enemies with POL011 over a disputed area called POL011-0191.

“This was a brilliant idea. Who needs killing drones and bombs?” the King said.

“The-wood is a brilliant mastermind. Who would have thought of this,” one of the ministers said.

“Yes, they are already on the brink of a collapse, teaming like nanodrakes*. All we had to do was to give then a nudge. And no one believes in using yaun-doms in that POL. The idiots believe in the more the merrier,” The-wood said.

Later at his home, The-wood went to the store room and took almost half an hour to select a flavour to use that night, chuckling at his idea of using a teleporter on a robotic fly to steal the yaun-doms.

*Insaan – means human in Arabic. It is a commonly used word in Hindi

*yaun – Copulation

*nanodrakes – very similar to ants. They can copulate from both ends and hence indulge in chain-mating.

*la-colourina – A festival similar to Holi but played only with  balloons. In recent years, price of balloons have gone up in POL011, just like the price of petrol in India.

*klear 5690 – Similar to Earth years. On Dearth, a klear consists of 225 days. Each day is 12 hours long. Insanes work only for 3 hours a day.

The news that inspired this post – 10,000 condom machines missing, CAG finds

My guest post on Bhavia’s Blog – The Utopian Indian Society

Strange things were happening in India. It was smeared on television. There were heated debates. Astrologers were shrieking about doomsday. People were terrified and desperately trying to seek solace in their Gods, unaware of the fact that God himself was responsible for their unbelievable situation. He was laughing uproariously. How did I know? We had a code word – Lightening bolts.

Read my guest post on Bhavia’s blog if none of that made sense. 🙂

Here is the link – The Utopian Indian Society.

And do read the introduction about me written by Bhavia in the post. It is unbelievably sweet and made me blush to a shade of beetroot red.

The Cage

I was sitting on a mat spread lazily on the lush green grass surrounding India Gate when the cage appeared for the first time. It was a sunny winter afternoon and I was in a mood to sketch. My ten months old son was sleeping in a pram besides me while I had sent my husband to bring me an ice-cream. My husband laughed as he closed his laptop and got up because he too loved to eat ice-creams in winters, although they were hard to get. As I took out my drawing pad and pencils and looked at the majestic India Gate, I saw the cage appear in front of it, hanging in mid air.

It was white and big enough to accommodate at least five men. As people noticed it, then dropped whatever they were doing and started to walk towards it, as if in a trance. I too got up when my husband suddenly appeared and took my hand to stop me. I turned and saw two ice-creams in his hand. The traffic too stopped moving after a few seconds. While the murmurs were gaining momentum, the sky suddenly turned dark. It remained pitch black for a few seconds and then all the colours of a rainbow were splashed all over it, moving like molted lava. Something very similar to the play of colors we see when we pour oil over water. And then that thunderous voice which appeared to be coming from everywhere and nowhere.

“I have placed 100 similar cages all over the world. These cages will be utilized to cleanse the Earth. I have given all of you enough chances but a few more years and I can kiss goodbye to any hopes of a better Earth. Over the next few months, the world will be in a huge turmoil but I am sure that those who will be left behind will be wise enough to find a path amongst the self inflicted human complexities. The ones, of whom the Earth would be cleansed are those who are devoid of even an iota of love and respect for the fellow Earthlings. Terrorists, rapists, molesters, poachers, murderers, drug dealers, corrupt leaders and corrupt Businessmen are the ones who would enter the cages first. All those who have even a small fraction of purity left in them and whom I consider worthy of creating a better future, will stay. All the cages will always remain on the Earth reminding you of what you all have become! As a parting shot, let me also inform you that I am removing all the weapons from the world. Goodbye.“

The skies cleared and for a second it seemed as if it was a bad dream but the cage was still there, hanging in mid air and emphasising the reality. There was such an eerie silence that it seemed as if the Earth had stopped rotating. They say that everyone on Earth heard that voice in the language they understood. I heard it in Hindi while the British tourist standing next to me heard it in English. That was the day when the world stopped and screamed afterwards.

Suddenly a man appeared from thin air inside the cage. He started screaming the moment he realised where he was. He was pleading and asking for help from the bewildered crowd staring at him. The cage started changing colours and turned to orange. Amidst shock and terror, we all realised what was happening. The cage was heating up. The man started jumping up and down to find a cool spot to stand but soon his skin started to stick to the hot base. He grabbed the bars to pull up his legs but his hands got glued to the hot bars. The cage was turning red and the man was melting sending an overpowering stench of burned flesh amidst painful screams for help. My son was wide awake by now and started crying. My husband took my hand and we moved towards our car to get out of there. We sat in the car for five hours before the traffic finally started moving. By that time, the cage at India Gate had taken 300 lives and the screams were ringing in my ears. 30000 people had vanished from the face of the Earth in those five hours. The cage was killing one person every minute. 

*  *  *  *

On the third day from the beginning of the killings, my husband confided in me. He told me that as an eminent businessman of the city, he has given and accepted bribes numerous times. I sat there and listened to what he had to say. I knew all this already but I had accepted him the way he was because I knew that he was beyond repair. 

“I am transferring everything to your name. I might be gone any second. Please bring up my son to be a good man. Not someone like me. I am sorry, sorry for everything.”, he said as tears welled up in his eyes. He cried bitterly that night. For the first time, I felt sorry for him and cried with him. All the property was transferred to my name within the next 15 days. Although I wondered about the worth of all that within a year. 

*  *  *  *

By the end of a year 52,560,000 people were dead. Many of them were notorious criminals and eminent politicians. The world was in a chaos. The stock markets crashed, armies of all the countries were now unemployed and a few countries were left completely leaderless. Some people tried to destroy the cages, while some turned into believers. Despite the chaos, there was a serenity. A tacit calm. People were good to each other. They were hopeful that despite of what they had done in the past, Gods would spare them if they behave themselves now. Fear was driving people to love each other. 

My husband vanished 14 months after the killings started. That day we were having breakfast and talking about our son’s birthday celebrations when he disappeared from his chair mid sentence. I stared at the unfinished toast and the half filled cup of tea for a long time as I didn’t had the courage to switch on the television and see him melt. Those fourteen months were the best time of our marriage. He had completely transformed and I had fallen in love with him.

*  *  *  *

It took the world 30 years to come back to order. Yes, we survived somehow. It became a beautiful place to live eventually. The generation who is running the world now is of my son’s age and they are brought up in an environment were “love” is the only word, the only possible solution. My son got married some years back and I am a grandma now. I had never believed in happily-ever-afters but I am living one now. Of course, I miss my husband at times. I still have that cup and plate in which he had his last breakfast.

And yes, the cage is still there at India Gate. Its a part of that monument now, a part of our existence. But I don’t remember if it has been used since a long time. I go to India Gate at times to have a look at it. To remember the day when the sky turned into a molten rainbow.

The Book Thief

“When everything was quiet. I went up to the corridor and the curtain of the living room was open just a crack….I could see outside. I watched, only for a few seconds.”

He had not seen the outside world for twenty-two months. There was no anger or reproach.

“How did it look?”

Max lifted his head, with great sorrow and great astonishment.

“There were stars,” he said. “They burned my eyes.”

The Book Thief is a story told by the Angel of Death, the surreptitious soul collector who is haunted by humans and who was very busy during the Second world war. He encountered the book thief thrice and it was a pleasure which he cherished forever. The Book Thief is a story of many people narrated by the soul collector.

It is the story of Liesel Meminger, who stole the first book when her brother was being buried by the gravediggers. The Gravedigger’s Handbook started her love affair with books in the troubled Nazi Germany. Her first act of thievery in many more to come. Liesel was sent to live with the Hubermanns, her foster parents, who lived on Himmel Street in Molching. Himmel means Heaven. 

It is the story of Hans Hubermann, Liesel’s foster father. A kind man and a Jew lover who was not afraid to offer his services to a Jew whose shop was vandalised. It was Hans who taught Liesel to read her first stolen book. Every night when Liesel woke up screaming from her nightmares, Hans sat with her and they read the Gravedigger’s Handbook. He whitewashed the wall in the basement so that Liesel may practice her spellings on it.

It is the story of Rosa Hubermann, Liesel’s sharp tongued foster mother, who called her husband and her daughter by names like Saukerl(bastard) and filthy pigs, to display her love. Who beat up Liesel when she did a mistake and loved her equally. Who sat with her husband’s accordion clutched tightly in her arms as moonlight swayed over her and as Liesel watched her from the door of the bedroom when Hans went to fight in the World War.

It is the story of Max Vandenburg, a Jewish refugee, who turns up one fine day on their doorsteps and change their lives more than anyone could have imagined. The Jew whom they hide in the basement of their house and who stayed there for so long that when he had a glimpse of stars, they burned his eyes. The Jew who painted the pages of Mein Kampf in white so that he could write his own story on it and present it to Liesel on her birthday. The Jew who was bound to Liesel with his own nightmares in which he fought the Fuehrer in a boxing ring.

It is the story of Rudy Steiner, Liesel’s neighbour on Himmel street and her best friend. Rudy who was crazy about Jessy Owens and madly in love with Liesel. Who jumped in the river to get her stolen book back, stole apples with her and helped her to steal books from the Mayor’s house and always asked for a kiss in return, which he got eventually at the end when it was too late.

After The Kite Runner, this was one book which again touched a raw nerve. I picked up this book because I liked the name and reading it was like living with all those people I have mentioned above. The book sucks you in and you can feel the pain and smell death. You actually see the Jews being marched on the Himmel Street. Starving and waiting to be killed. You see the Mayor’s wife, who lets Liesel steal from her huge library by leaving the window open. You see the people of Himmel Street bundled together in the basement of a house when the air raids start while Liesel reads one of her stolen book to them to divert their minds from the fear of death. There are so many timeless pages and memorable characters in the book who will always remain with you. The central theme of the book is Death and words. As Liesel learns how to read, she realises that its words which have held people in Hitler’s spell. She begins to understand the spell which words can cast to bring love as well as destruction. 

Written like a dream, this was one book which I had to recommend, although I have read many books after The Kite Runner. A powerful book of our times which should definitely be made into a movie.

Rating – 4.5/5

Author – Markus Zusak

I love you too

First of all, my apologies to everyone for not being a very regular reader of the posts of all my buddies for quite some time now. The reason being that I have shifted base to a new place and my office is an (un)comfortable two hours drive from my home. So, I end up being in the lap of my bus for four precious hours everyday instead of being in that of my lap-top. I have to iron out my life but don’t know how.

Having said that, this post is a short story which was lying in my drafts from the past three months. Its being a while I had written one but this one popped one fine morning in my brain due to a cerebral short circuit. I started wondering on the silliness of it and then thought of bestowing the readers with it. 😛

The title of the post, of course, belongs to the short story. 😀

Here goes :

What started as a drizzle was now turning into a downpour. She was standing at the entrance of her office, forcing the umbrella to stay above her head and waiting for a cab to materialize amidst the shards of water breaking from the clouds. She saw a car approaching but it was not a cab. The black Mercedes stopped in front of her and she saw her image roll down with the window. What appeared from the other side was one of the most enchanting faces she had ever seen. He was smiling with one corner of his lips curled up and ending up in a deep dimple.

“May I help you? Can I drop you somewhere?”, he asked.

“No thanks. I will prefer going by a cab.”, she replied as her brain received a smack from her heart.

“You would be needing a boat after sometime. Don’t worry. Just hop in and I will drop you where ever you stay.”

She hesitated for a second but the dimple was at display again. She smiled back as she sat in the car and closed the door.

“Thanks.”, she said tersely.

“No trouble at all. I am Daniel.”, he shot back.

“Margaret.”, she smiled back.

He drove silently for a few minutes and then suddenly shot a glance at her.

“What?”, she asked.

“I can drop you at a place only if I know where the place is.”

“Oh!!! I am so sorry.”, she laughed back.

She told him the address and soon the car screeched at her doorstep after snaking through a few water clogged roads.

“Would you come in for a cup of coffee?”, she asked as she picked up her umbrella. She was smiling and she was not looking at him.

“Yeah sure. Its damn cold and coffee would certainly do me good.”, he said giving his dimpled smile again.

She felt a warmth in her heart. She looked at him and suddenly she couldn’t remove her eyes from his face. She just wanted to be near him. Just wanted to feel his warmth…

She unlocked the door of her apartment and asked him to come in as she switched on the lights. The apartment was spacious and very tastefully decorated with artifacts and paintings from across the globe.

“God!!! You are rich. Why don’t you have a car?”

“Thanks. I had one. I sold it last week. Got bored or it actually. I need to buy another one this weekend. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll bring the coffee.”, she said as she took his coat.

“Can I come in the kitchen? If you don’t mind.”, He asked when she was halfway across the hall.

“Sure.”, She looked back and smiled at him.

He sat at the small dining table in the kitchen and watched her make coffee. Soon she was staring at the droplets of rain slashing across the kitchen window, lost in thoughts, smiling. Suddenly he got up and stood behind her, with his hands on her shoulders, squeezing them lightly. Then he moved one of his hand over hers and cupped her slender fingers.

“My husband might be at home anytime.”, she said.

A lightening bolt flashed across the window as she said this. His grip loosened instantaneously. He went to the drawing room, picked his coat and left the house. She stood in the kitchen and laughed.

* * *

The bell rang a few minutes later. She opened the door.

“Hi hon. How are you doing?”. It was her husband.

“Great. How was your day?” , she said flashing one of her sparkling smiles which her husband really loved.

“I was thinking about you all day long.” He said as he took her in his arms and kissed her.

“What!!! Aren’t you tired?”, she asked knowing very well what was about to come.

“Not yet. But maybe, I will be in an hour.”, He said as he smiled and picked her in his arms and moved towards the bedroom.

* * *

When she woke up in the morning, her husband was already up, fixing breakfast in the kitchen. She showered quickly and entered the kitchen.

“Breakfast is served.”, her husband said as he presented her with scrambled eggs, fruits, juice and bread.

“Thank you so much dear. What would I do without you.”, she said kissing him.

They ate the breakfast, chatting happily and later he went to drop her at the office in his car. As she got out of the car, he caught hold of her hand.

“What?”, she said turning around and laughing.

“It was fun last night. Wasn’t it?”

“Yes it was. But come to think of it, what the hell were we doing?”, she said as she laughed out loud.

“Just remembering the first night we met. Come on, its been exactly five years yesterday. What’s wrong in being a little playful?”, he said as he entangled his fingers into hers.

“Yes, but five years ago, you didn’t turn around and leave and I was not married.”, she said and winked. He looked at her for a few moments, playing with her fingers. Then he pulled her into the car.

“You are the best wife I could have asked for. I love you, Margaret.”

“I love you too, Daniel”, she whispered slowly in his ear as she hugged him and looked at the diamond ring on her finger, which he gave her last night. There were tears of happiness in her eyes.

She waved her husband goodbye as he drove away in his black Mercedes, giving her another one of his infectious, dimpled smiles.

A Thousand Splendid Suns – Book Review

One could not count the moons that shimmer on her roofs,

Or the thousand splendid suns that hide behind her walls.

While I was reading The Kite Runner, I wondered how much pain the author himself had to go through in his life to write this story? Its said that you can’t understand the pain of another human if you have not been through the same situation yourself. Each and every word of The Kite Runner made me realize how much pain and anger must be pent up inside the author. And then I read “A Thousand Splendid Suns”. The Kite Runner was not a book and neither is A Thousand Splendid Suns. They are outlets, vents to tell the world about what happened to the Nation which was once so prosperous and happy. They are outlets for people to know the story of a nation destroyed by its own people.

The story revolves around Mariam and Laila. Mariam is an unwanted child born out of wedlock and lives with her mother in the outskirts of Herat in Afghanistan. Her wealthy father visits her at times. When Mariam is 15 she visits her father’s home against everyone’s wishes. She ends up being married to Rasheed, a widower in Kabul who expects a son from her. When she fails to deliver a baby, she is faced with verbal and physical abuses. Laila, on the other hand, is the daughter of a High school teacher. She had two brothers who are killed in the fighting against the Soviet occupation of Afghanistan. Laila is in love with Tariq, her childhood friend. Things take a bad turn when the civil war comes to Kabul after the victory of the Mujahideen and Tariq leaves Kabul with his parents and Laila is left pregnant and an orphan after her parents are killed in a rocket attack. She lands up in Rasheed’s house and agrees to marry Rasheed for the sake of the child. Mariam is now in Rasheed’s house for more than a decade now and resents Laila but fate has something else in store for the two women.

The most beautiful part of this book is the way the relationship develops between Mariam and Laila. By the time Laila becomes a part of the household, Mariam has endured too much at the hands of Rasheed to bear his second wife. Soon after Laila gives birth to Tariq’s daughter, both the women realise that they are sailing in the same boat. The book is also a story of a nation in transition. It encompasses the political upheavals and what the people went through when the Russians finally left. It tells the story of a beautiful dream which turned into a nightmare. If Hassan was the unforgettable character in The Kite Runner, then Mariam’s doleful life will leave a lump in your throat in this book. And there was one feeling that never left me while I read the book – This could have happened to someone…

Comparisons with Khaled’s earlier book is inevitable and I agree that A Thousand Splendid Suns does not have those kind of twists and turns but it has the same quality which The Kite Runner had. It turns you into a more compassionate, a more understanding and a more humane human. It makes you understand that you are blessed in every sense. And, it makes you understand that there are people out there who deserve a life similar to yours.

Rating – 4.5/5

Author – Khaled Hosseini

Valentine valium

 

I couldn’t believe she did this and that too a day before Valentine’s Day. Its one thing to watch all this happen in movies and its another thing to watch this happen to yourself. My girlfriend dumped me, and with what elan! There wasn’t an iota of shame on her face when she came to meet me afterwards. The mere thought of knowing a person capable of so much treachery and malevolence was giving me the creeps. Did I actually know her? Or was I just pretending? The other guy was better well of, was of her community and moreover chosen by her parents. So many positive reasons which landed me in a trash can. I was sitting at the Connaught Place metro station waiting for my train to ISBT. A train just arrived but my thoughts were so scattered that by the time I collected them, the train was gone. I stared aimlessly at the taillights as the train snaked away. Tears welled up in my eyes. I was so emotionally drained that I could have done anything to get rid of the void in my heart. Five minutes later, the next train arrived. This time, as the doors swooshed open, I pushed myself inside. The train was chock-a-block with people. I got hold of a dangling handle and threw my bag on the floor. I started tapping my feet as the train tunneled through dark hollow pipes inside the earth. A few seconds later, I heard a sound. It was the kind of sound people make when they are really irritated by something. I turned and saw a girl standing next to me. I couldn’t see her face but she was clearly bugged by the continuous tapping of my feet. I stopped it. I got down at ISBT to take the connecting train to Rohini, where I lived.

*     *     *

I couldn’t believe he did this. I had pursued this relationship with all my heart, but everything flew out of the window when I saw Rahul with that…aarrhgghh…I don’t even want to take her name. Not only were they dancing in that wretched pub like two snakes entangled to each other but were also doing something inexplicable. I stormed inside and hit her on the head and then I did something I would never do again. I kicked Rahul between his legs. I could hear his scream even after I stormed out of the pub. I wanted to cry but my anger was holding me back. I wandered here and there for sometime. Then I sat in the Inner Circle park and wrote my diary before I realised that I had to get back before my roommate sleeps, otherwise it wouldn’t take something less than a lightening bolt to wake her up. I entered the Connaught Place metro station where I took the ticket to Delhi University. I had gone to CP from college to meet Rahul in that pub. I missed two trains as I was deep in thoughts staring at the yellow line which the passengers were not supposed to cross before the train stops…the line which nobody cared about. I got into the train and caught hold of a handle somehow. I threw the bag on the floor. As the train started, I noticed a guy standing next to me who was tapping his feet like a maniac. In a few seconds this tapping got to my nerves and I made a sound. It stopped immediately. Finally the guy got off at ISBT.

*     *     *

As I entered my home, I told mom that I was not hungry and went to my room. I threw the bag on the bed and sat on the chair and held my head in my hands. Somehow, the feeling has not sunk in yet. Nishita had the guts to give me a parting card which I had not opened yet. I unzipped my bag to take out the card. What came in my hand was a red diary. I fumbled the bag for the card but everything which came in my hand was alien. This was not my bag!! Where did I lose it? In the train? At the station? I opened the diary and to my relief found an address on the first page. The bag belonged to someone named Akriti Chauhan who dwelled in Kamala Nagar. Maybe she had my bag. I decided to go to her home first thing in the morning. As I was about to flip the diary back in the bag, I had in impulse to open and read it. I turned to the last page. A few lines were hastily jotted there :

Dear Diary,

What happened with me today was something I had never imagined would happen and that too a day before Valentine’s Day. I had so much faith in my love. It all shattered in a few seconds. What had I done to deserve this? I loved Rahul with all my heart but today I kicked him. I KICKED HIM!!!!! When will this pain go? I want to cry. Oh God!!! Please let me cry.

I stared at the diary for a few moments. I kept on touching the word “faith”, as if trying to feel the word. Then suddenly I slammed it shut.

The next day I reached Delhi University by metro and then took a rickshaw to Kamala Nagar. My heart went acrid when I eyed the couples roaming around me, completely drenched in love and celebrating Valentine’s Day. I reached Akriti’s apartment completely dejected and rang the bell. A girl opened the door and for a second I was dumbstruck. She was gorgeous. For a second I completely forgot Nishita. I was staring at her with my mouth open.

“Yes?”, she asked.

“Are you Akriti?”. I asked as I came to my senses.

“Yes.”

“I have your bag. I think you have mine.” I said as I took off the bag from my shoulder and gave it to her.

*     *     * 

When I reached my apartment my flatmate was, thankfully, awake. I told her that I was not hungry and went to my room. I splashed some cold water on my face but my cheeks were still burning. I sat on the bed for sometime, staring at the ceiling fan and then opened my bag to write my diary. What came in my hand was a card. The bag was not mine. Where was my bag?? Oh GOD!!! My diary was inside it!! Someone will read it!! I emptied the contents of the bag on my bed but was not able to find an address. Cursing my fate, I opened the card. It was addressed to a guy named Mukul. The girl who wrote the card was Nishita. It said :

Dear Mukul,

I am so sorry for whatever happened but both of us have to understand this. We can’t be together. Mom and Dad have found a match for me. You have to let me go. I can’t let my parents down. Please understand.

Nishita.

I stared at the card for a long time. Tonight, I was not the only one whose heart was broken.

The next morning, the bell rang and as I opened the door, I saw the most handsome guy I have ever seen, standing at my door. For a second I completely forgot Rahul.

“Yes?” I said with great difficulty.

“Are you Akriti?”. He asked.

“Yes”.

“I have your bag. I think you have mine.” He said as he took off the bag from his shoulder and gave it to me.

“Oh yes. Please come inside.”

He moved inside and sat on the sofa. I brought his bag from inside and gave it to him.

“By the way, I read the card.”

“I read the diary.”

For a second both of us stared at each other. Then we smiled.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” He said.

“Same to you.”

I asked him if he was alright and then he told me about his broken relationship. I don’t know why but I too poured my heart in front of him. We realized that our bags must have exchanged in the train. He was that irritating foot tapper. We went to Barista and talked till the evening. I never felt that I was talking to a stranger. I told him that my Valentine’s Day was not as bad as I had expected. I found a friend. We exchanged numbers before he left. As I moved towards my apartment I wondered what destiny had in store for me. My heart was such an amalgam of pain and happiness that it was hard to express an emotion. Maybe…Rahul was never meant for me. Maybe…

*     *     *

Akriti never felt like a stranger. We talked like long lost friends. Somehow the fact that we were going through the same emotions helped us to connect. She told me about Rahul. Her story was as shocking as mine, if I may call it that. She was really sweet and we promised to meet again. My heart was not acerbic anymore. As I moved towards the station after saying goodbye to her, I felt very light. There was pain but there was happiness also. Mixed emotions, as they call it. I had started to realise that maybe Nishita was never meant for me. Maybe…

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