Pondering

The man sat in his seat. As men who sit are wont to do when they are not sitting on floors, walls, garbage, luggage or the toilet.

He pondered about life. Life pondered about him. They were mutually unable to understand each other.

“What is the meaning of Life?” he pondered.

“What is the meaning of Victor?” pondered Life.

Neither was about to figure it out.

Death looked on and laughed.

The man stared into space.

Space stared back at him.

Both unseeing.

He did not see space. He saw the images in his mind where space should have been.

Space did not see him. Space saw other matters of great magnitude.

Time flitted by and stayed there simultaneously.

Time was an asshole. 

Numbers

He was a normal individual, living his normal life very normally. He was moderately satisfied with it, his life and his normalcy. It wasn’t great. But it had its moments. And though he could not be considered an adventurer,- In any sense of the term, not even if adventurer pills were invented and he could take them orally-, he added great joy to his life through travel.

He loved seeing new places, experiencing new things, eating new foods, wearing new garments, puking new and interestingly coloured puke, riding new vehicles, taking new diarrhoea medications, and so on and so forth. He enjoyed every last bit of it.

But then one day he noticed the numbers.

He was surprised he hadn’t noticed them before.  They seemed to be everywhere.

But then maybe they hadn’t been there before. He didn’t know.

They were strange numbers.

They were painted on rocks and on walls and on odd little tombstone like things.

They occurred in regular intervals, he saw them everywhere as he travelled. And once he had noticed them for the first time, he could never again be oblivious to their presence.

They were sequential. They seemed to be counting up, or counting down towards some mysterious end.

But strangest of all… They were fractions!

He soon became preoccupied with their significance. Where do they lead? What is at their mysterious end? Why intervals? ...  And, most pressing of all … why fractions?

He started driving around following their sequence trying to find their origin or their terrifying end.

It was then that he discovered that their end never came. They were leading to something somewhere. That he was sure. But unfortunately, they never did. Or they did, but somehow he missed it.

Always!

Just as he neared the mysterious destination … The fractions would suddenly change. And a new sequence would begin.

Sometimes it would begin halfway through the sequence.

He was very annoyed.

Both by its randomness and also by fractions in general.

Then he thought maybe the spaces in between were inaccessible, placed by someone into strange time-space pockets that one must break into with futuristic technology.

Futuristic technology was not yet futuristic enough.

He did not notice how he began to spend most of his waking life following the numbers and developing theories about their meaning and then doing outlandish things in order to achieve something only he understood.

The numbers soon drove him insane. He never found their end.

The numbers pondered about themselves.

They wondered about their purpose.

They lived their two dimensional lives, trying to understand the meaning of it all.

And forever they awaited the return of that omnipotent paintbrush in the sky.

On a bright and moonlit night, on a road far away, an immortal child runs free, revelling in the glory that is life and nature. He stops, crouches near the ground, fascinated by things that most adults cannot understand. He jumps up suddenly and breaks into the run that is the only way he knows to be.

He giggles.

“Fractions are so much fun!” he says to nobody in particular and disappears into the night, a small brush and a little can of paint held tightly in his tiny hand.

The Beach

The four of them walked onto the beach.

Him and her, hand in hand, their son and daughter running after each other, laughing.

The beach was beautiful.

The sand was white.

The water was clear.

And near the water, all along the beach, glistened a rainbow of colours.

Thousands and thousands of multicoloured shells lay on the sand, collected over time by the toil of the sea.

It was perfect.

It was relaxing.

It was just what they needed.

They were awed at the wonder that is nature. The beauty was unsurpassed.

They walked hand in hand, their children running behind them.

They were happy.

And, as they walked, thousands of multicoloured souls screamed in silence as they were crushed beneath their feet.

Predator

She had been stalking her prey for a while.

She had made a mistake, and charged to soon.

She was not close enough.

Her prey had run away as fast as it could.

She had given chase for a while, but she hadn’t caught it yet.

She was pacing herself. She had a strategy.

It was tired, and was hiding out of sight.

She crept slowly and quietly, her feet making no noise against the soft ground.

She was very near, and would soon attack.

Suddenly she pounced!

Her prey was taken by surprise.

Ignoring the screams of protest, the little girl in pink grabbed the balloon and was gone. 

Kaju Katli

Nayantara sat at the table socializing, because that was what she did, as a rule, at social gatherings. It was a strange thing to do, but she was a creature of habit and could not do it any other way. Sometimes, just in case, she had to bring her own table along.

She was having fun, conversing with old friends and new friends, including a wise and mysterious man who was filled with secret knowledge and ancient lore that had been lost over time. He had answers to questions that most people asked. But more often than not the answers were not the kind they sought.

He was speaking, as all wise and mysterious men do, of fake weddings and bearded legs when she happened to discover that her finger was covered in strange shiny silver coating.

“Where did that come from?” she muttered to herself.

“Ah, that is because you used to be a kaju katli.” said the man in a tone that conveyed that nothing was amiss with this statement at all.

“HAHA!” laughed Nayantara.

The man ignored her, as he did so many others, and began his tale.

“Once upon a time there was a young girl who was given a kaju katli by her father to eat. Only this girl had a tendency to play with her food and decided to peel of the silver foil on the top of the kaju katli. And, as the foil came off, lo and behold! A Nayantara emerged!

“Thank you dear girl” said the Nayantara. “An evil witch turned me into a kaju katli, to die of consumption by a little girl. But you have removed the foil that bound me and freed me from my sugary grave.”

“Pray tell, sweet Nayantara”, asked the girl, “why did the witch curse you?”

“Why in order to steal my pudding of course” replied the Nayantara, and flew away whistling to herself.

The poor girl was left kaju katli-less and confused.

But the girl had not finished peeling off the foil completely and hence the Nayantara was left with a shiny finger.  It would always serve as a reminder of that terrible time that she spent as a kaju katri and how the fidgetiness of a little girl saved her life. This would serve her no purpose but aid her deal with her own fidgety kids. She also learned that protecting her pudding was not that important.

And they all lived happily ever after” concluded the wise mysterious man.

“What a wonderful story!” said Nayantara.

“What wonderful pudding!” said the man, and with a cackle of laughter disappeared in a flash of light.

And Nayantara looked down to find that her bowl was indeed now empty.

Bathrooms: Predators

Answering the call of the wild, in your urban bathroom can be made ever so uncomfortable by the presence of a lizard.

“Lizard!” you laugh, “They don’t do anything! Why should you be scared?”

I’m not scared. Just deeply troubled.

There was a time when I too had a cordial relationship with all lizards.

I would talk to them lovingly and berate them for infesting my kitchen in Mumbai.

I would also congratulate them for ridding us of all the cockroaches.

That was before I realised their true nature.

That was before I found out how disgusting they were.

That was before one of them molested me.

Yes, I was molested by a lizard.

I was at a friend’s farm, enjoying a short vacation outside the city. At some point I needed to make, what, because it amuses me, I shall refer to as, a poopie. After which I was going to take a bath.

So I went into the downstairs bathroom, undressed, sat on the toilet, and commenced with the poopie making.

Little did I know that this was the very same toilet under which a lizard had decided to hide in wait for a suitable victim.

It seems I was suitable enough.

When I was halfway through, the lizard decided that I was in a compromising enough position and decided to take advantage of me.

It ran up my naked thigh, across my stomach, up my chest, and jumped off onto the wall behind me and, like most perverts, ran away.

As its tiny five fingered hands were feeling its way up my naked, and admittedly curvy body, I felt the urge to jump up and defend myself.

But I couldn’t.

I was in the middle of making a poopie, and not even a groping lizard could stop me.

I had to endure it. But thankfully it was over quickly.

I felt so violated.

I have never been able to look a lizard in the eye since. Bloody reptiles.

So you can see why I was uncomfortable when a lizard entered my bathroom, yet again.

But this time I was armed.

With an ingenious plan!

                                                          

I turned on the hot water in the shower and left the bathroom door slightly ajar. The lizard, being a cold blooded b*****d, was flushed out by the collecting heat.

I was again able to bathe in peace, away from the reptile gropers of the world.

But I live in constant fear that they shall be back again…, now that they have had a taste of my irresistible fiery sensuality.