Black and White

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 24; the Twenty-Fourth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for this month is BLACK AND WHITE.

“Do you miss him, dad?”

My 18 year old son asked as I stood still looking straight at my father’s grave. The darkness before the dawn had engulfed the graveyard, a cold breeze lingered around as the shouts of a crow filled the air.

“Why do we always come so early in the morning dad, cant we at least wait for the sun rise?”

“Dad?”

His words or the crows’ shouts, I was deaf to all the sounds around me, standing at the foot of the grave I looked at the tree that stood at the other end of the grave.

“Do you miss him, dad?”

“Ah?”

“Do you miss him?”

I smiled as I put my arms around his shoulder, looking at the grave for a brief moment I turned to him,

“I grew up missing him.”

“I don’t understand?”

“My father, he was with this company which made him travel all around the country selling some sort of electronic boards. He would visit us once in six months, stay for a week and then leave again to travel the country.”

“Wow! I wish I can score a job like that, it would be one exciting affair.”

“I agree, when I was around 10 all I did was dream of travelling like him, not just India but travelling the world would be a dream job.”

“Man, grand da sure had an awesome job.”

I smiled as I let the words float around in my head, nodding with a soft voice I spoke

“He was my hero then.”

Noticing my eyes well up, Sid spoke

“You really do miss him.”

“Ah. I don’t believe that.”

“Look at your eyes dad you are about to weep like a girl, come on.”

I smirked at his comment and turned towards the grave

“I am not sad because I miss him, I am sad because I never had him.”

“Trust me dad, having someone always overlooking you is over hyped.”

“Smart, but not quite enough to push me away.”

“Well it was worth a try.”

I turned away from Sid and stared at the grave, letting my silence take over the conversation.

“Oh, please don’t be so serious dad; you know I was just joking.”

“Humor, one of my many traits you have inherited. I know Sid.” I smiled at him and continued

“I just remembered something.”

“Waves of memories gushing in your head” he tried to mimic my voice

“Drops of memories trickling in” 

“Which one is your favorite?”

“There were too few for me to choose a favorite, but there was one day that he spent with me I will never forget.”

    

“I think I was twelve when I decided that I wanted to grow up to become India’s premier leg spin bowler. I spent a good chunk of my free time bowling at a single wicket in a playground near my house.”

“All by yourself?”

“Yes, all by myself. I wanted to be the definition of dedication. I would run to the ground right after lunch and practice till the sun went down.  That day was also like no other I reached the ground, hammered the wicket and started bowling.  Almost an hour had passed when an elegant white car stopped near the ground, I couldn’t control my joy when I saw appa walk out the car.

He shouted as he walked towards me ‘I think you are missing a batsman, cricket usually has a batsman.’

“Ya but there is no batsman who has the guts to face my spin”

“Smart, but not quite enough to push me away.”

“I didn’t bring a bat, appa”

“Well I brought one with me; now give me your best”

You know, I bowled my best that day; he couldn’t hit a single shot. I got him out at least 50 times that evening. Each time he got out, he would nod his head in respect and commend my ability to spin the ball. Leg spin, goggly, flipper, I surprised him with all my tricks. He finally gave up and asked me to bat. 

He bowled one loose ball after another I hit them all out of the park. I had him running all around. Finally tired he walked up to me and said

“I am just glad I got to play with the best cricketer I have ever seen.”

It was the first time he had ever played with me and I turned out to be better than him, my hero, my appa.

We walked back to car and he drove me to an ice-cream parlour nearby, I remember I took a chocolate ice-cream and he ordered a butter scotch. I never understood the reason for other flavours when there was chocolate and I shook my head in disapproval as he ordered butterscotch.

“Appa, I am going to grow up to be the best bowler in India.”

“With the way you play, you will be the best in the world.”

Nothing could stop me I thought; I had his blessings after all.

I smiled at him and spoke as we watched the sun go down the horizon

“I am so happy you came, appa”

“Nice”

"Nice?"

 “But what happened to the whole dream of becoming the best cricketer?”

“Well I turned 18 one day and realized there were far more interesting balls around than the cricket ball.”

“Oh good God, did my dad just say that? Did you just say that, and I thought I was the cool teenager here.”

“Don’t tell your mom I said that” 

We both broke into laughter looking at each other and shaking our heads.

“Can we go now dad please, it is so cold here.”

 “Give me just ten minutes you go wait in the car.”

“Okay”

As he walked away he stopped for a second and turned back to me and spoke

“Thanks dad for sharing that special day of your life.”

“Well…”

“After listening to your story I am just glad I have a lot more than one such day to tell my kids about.”

“The day one can never forget in our life.”

I smiled as he walked away, I was proud of him. I was proud of myself, the greatest gift I had given myself and to him was the time I had spent with him.  

As he walked away I turned towards the grave, standing by the side I looked down at the grave, the words ‘The Day I will never forget’ bounced in my head.

I remember that day like it was yesterday, I was 28 when one day appa called me up at 4 in the morning. Thoughts of meeting him or not waged a battle in my head, pulling myself up from the bed I decided to meet him. I called him to ask him where he was only to be shocked to learn that he was waiting for me near my mother’s grave. The mind is always fast to think negative and fill imagination with images that prompt worry and fear in the heart.

Getting down from the car I walked past the unguarded gate to enter the graveyard, the dark of the night and the fear of the unknown prompted me to look back to check if someone walked behind me, finding my way using a torch light I walked to the grave to be welcomed by sounds of shoveling. My worst nightmares looked to have come true when I saw appa down in the hole digging it deeper.

“Appa, what are you doing?” I asked with fear laced in my voice

“Oh, you are here. Come here give me a hand.”

“Everything okay? What are you doing?”

“You know all those movies that have the same dialogue, 6 by 3 is all one needs at the end, none of them tell you how deep the hole should be. I am always confused.”

“I think we should leave appa, I think you are stressed.”

“Stressed? I have always been stressed.”

“Where is the guard, how did they let you dig a hole here?”

“The guard, don’t worry about him I bought his day and sent him away.”

“What’s happening appa, you are starting to scare me.”

“I wanted us to be alone here. I wanted to talk to you.”

“We could talked at home, we could talked on the road but here?”

“I have been stressed for a long time my son, tired and stressed. I feel heavy filled with guilt. I need to confess today.”

“Guilt I can understand but here…”

“Let me finish, let me talk.”

“I have been tired from the day you were born. I was not made to be a father, heck! I was not made to be a husband either. I hardly remember your childhood…”

“Well you were not around much to remember…”

“Yes, travelling around the country away from the two of you. I confess I used to feel a sense of relief every time I walked away from the house but the guilt of feeling relief would tear me apart. I hated you both for filling me up with guilt.”

“I didn’t know you called me here to insult me and my mother at her grave. You were never my father you will never be one.”

I turned away in disgust to walk when he called out

“Wait, listen to me I need to confess today. Listen to me, you owe me that much.”

“I don’t owe you anything.”

“Just listen to me, come here, whose grave is this?”

“That is my mother’s grave even you know that.”

“How did she die?”

“You know how, she had complications with her health, one of those rare moments when we both spent 

days together.”

“She didn’t die of complications son, I killed her.”

“Stop talking, just shut up.”

“Listen to me, I killed her, I killed her slowly and painfully.”

“The only reason stopping me from slapping you is that fact that you are my father. I am leaving now.”

“Wait listen to me, let me tell you a story. Wait a second let me tell you a story."

"When I married your mom she was very young, 23 or 24 I think. Full of dreams, filled with energy, her smile captured my imagination. We had an arranged marriage but we still managed to go around, movies, hotels, parks. I always held her hand, soft fingers that curled against mine, she was my angel.”

"I meant the world to her, her mornings her whole day was dedicated to me. Everything looked so perfect then." 

“After we got married, her priorities looked to be changing slowly. She started spending all her time caring for my mother, who fell sick, slowly fights sprouted  in our marriage. A kid might ease the tensions your mother tricked me one ill night. You were born and after that her world was just you. I was suddenly not important anymore.”

 “You disgust me appa…”

“Attention I wanted attention all I cared was about my feelings. I told you I was not meant to be a father or a husband.”

“I started to travel; I fell in love with my traveling. I fell in love with the ladies around me, I left you both to yourselves, but as the days passed suddenly you felt the need for me; she felt the need for me. How could I come back and forgive her, I wanted her to feel the same dejection I felt. I let you grow fatherless and her age husband-less.”

“I killed her I know and now the guilt eats me from inside. “

I stood looking down at my mother’s grave, I was too disgusted to look at my father. His words played in my head, the effect of his words filled my eyes to set rolling drops of tears down my cheeks. Rubbing my tears I tried to control more from flowing.    

“And I was a fool to think of you as my hero growing up.”

“Don’t tell me that, don’t give me any belief that I was a father to you for even a single day.”

“Do you know which is the day I hate the most, the day I came down to play cricket with you when you were young. The day I smiled, the day I laughed with you, the day I felt proud of you, the day I felt like a father to you. I hated myself for letting in those foreign emotions into my heart, I hated that day for making me feel guilty when I walked away from you.”

“How many do you think would come looking for you if I killed you now, son.”

“Don’t you dare call me son and don’t even think of it, at least a hundred will come to hunt you down.”

“How many do you think will come looking for me if you killed me now.”

“Your silence answers my question, I laughed at those fools out there back in those days and today I die alone in my tears.”

“Do you know who lies in that grave?”

“No I don’t.”

“Rose, your mother’s best friend, I used to visit her once every month. I was her world, with her eyes always looking for me and her hands entangled in mine, she spent her life making me happy.”

“Now I know why she killed herself.”

“I murdered her but she brought it upon herself.”

“Don’t be shocked, the strength one gets when your life is at stake when all hope is lost is amazing. She was alone and looked depressed to others so nobody suspected a thing.” 

“We had it all till one day she asked me to marry her.”

“Marriage I tell you don’t ever get one, but you here, you are ready to get married in a few days now.”

“How is your girl friend?”

“That is none of your business.”

“This is the reason I called you here, don’t get married son, you are my blood, my genes and you can never be a good husband to anyone.”

“That is not true, you are not my father I can hardly recognize you.”

“I was the same when I was your age, you will turn out exactly like me, a lousy husband and a nonexistent father. You can try all you want but you will never be happy married to her.”

“I am not you.” I shouted out in anger

“Shout all you want but the blood that flows remains the same. You will end up killing that girl like I killed your mother and Rossy aunty.”

“I am not you.” I shouted out in anger and in the fit of extreme rage that filled my head I hit his legs hard with the shovel that lay on the ground.

Clenching his teeth he fell to his knees, blood oozed out of his knee caps but he managed to smile at me,

“You think you are different but you are the same as me.”

I had lost control over my actions, years of anger along with the words he spoke brought a gush of hatred in me, with a hard swing to his head I brought him down to the ground.

As his head hit the ground he mumbled softly

“You think you are different I know you are too, I know you will not grow up to be like me.”

I fell to my knees as a sense of fear gripped my heart, as I went close he managed to speak again

“The day that I spent with you cherish it please, I wanted to let you take my life, I owed it to you.”

In silence I pushed him down the hole he had dug, as I buried him under the mud I started to feel what he had meant earlier, the strength one finds when your life is at stake can leave one surprised wondering if we had it in there all along.

The rays of the rising sun slowly started to hit the ground, I stood by a tree sapling that looked to be planted only that day, I watched the sun rise to bring in a new day, the light that spread around cleared any darkness that was left of the night away.     

“Thank you for coming, my son” his last words echoed in my head as I walked away from the grave.

“What took you so long dad?”

“Nothing I just remembered something.”

“Another special day?”

I smiled and sat silent behind the steering wheel.

“Can I ask you something dad?”

“Ya sure.”

“What do you think every time you come here and stand in front of the grave? How do you feel?”

“It just reminds me of the fact that a person's life can have shades of both black and white, it is the balance in them that is the secret to a happy life.”

“Wow! You should write a book dad.”

I smiled as I turned to him

“And to answer your second question, I feel a deep desire to be a better father.”

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

  

The setting sun slowly dived into the horizon, leaving behind the sky burning bright in the colours of a flame. Slowly the light around walked away making way for the darkness to slither in.
Cold waves of water lapped against my feet as I stood arms crossed, eyes closed, facing the might of the sea breeze. I looked down to look at my feet covered in sand, my toe poked out trying to get away from the suffocating sand.
The vast expanse of the sea that sat before me looked ready to listen to my story. The loud beats of my heart cried out in fear. I touched my chest to feel the beats, the sense of life, a feeling of alive hit me hard.
Softly I asked my heart, why do you weep in fear, but the silence that engulfed us spoke louder than my beating heart.  

Novel Idea

Chapter 1

The soft banging of the window tried to wake me up; a cold wave of breeze slid in through the open window, and filled up the room along with the blanket of darkness that the night had brought with it.

My toe poked around the foot of the bed in search of a blanket; a thin film of the cold breeze began to settle down on the soft cotton of the pajama that sheltered my legs.

The sheets that covered the bed grew colder with each gush of breeze that entered the room.

On finding a blanket lying orphan, I pulled it over my head and lay still within the walls of the blanket.

The blanket has always had reassuring warmth to it, as a kid growing up I have always felt safe hiding in the darkness of the blanket.

Within the walls of the blanket it felt like a comfortable world, the familiar sounds of my breathing, the rhythmic beats of my heart, all reassuring me that I was still alive, the fear of monsters eating me alive, fell asleep within those blanket walls. 

The silence of the night speaks out loud, I always believe.

Moving around and yet keeping the silence intact is an art.

The rustle of the leaves or a soft sigh are mighty enough to butcher the silence that envelope surroundings.  

“Could you close the window Sid?” Sanjana asked as she tried to hug the blanket tighter.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I looked around the room. My eyes felt comfortable, they chose not to blink profusely. A sense of comfort seemed to settle down in my heart.  

Something had changed enough in the room to bring a feeling of calm to my soul.

The darkness that had engulfed the room was new to me. I sat silent looking straight at the wall.

There was a soothing feeling to the darkness of the night, no phones vibrating, no questions of trust to defend, no demands to respond, no bright lights hurting, no traffic to hold me back.

Alone with just my voice filling up my head, thoughts taking birth in my heart trying to talk its way into my head, blissful the feeling brought waves of happiness to my heart.  
How I had longed for those moments solitary with just the voices in my head for company and the dark of the night for comfort.

Fascinated I have always been by the effect night has had on everyone, the shadow devoid darkness that covers the streets, the fear it brings within, the feeling of time starting to slow down in those dark nights. My friend, my companion, she shares my secrets, asks no questions and has always listened to my thoughts.  

As I searched for the light switch I glanced out of the window to notice the street light that lit my room every night had blown out giving way to the new guest, the darkness in my room.

I pulled my hand away from the switch and walked in the lightless room. Stretching out my arms I tried to hug her, my legs hopped in hope of a dance, romancing the darkness, the thought had my lips part a little to make way for a smile on my face.

  

I stood holding the railing of the window and looked straight out at the blown out street light.

I had spent hours on my terrace looking at the trembling yellow light the bulb put out every night. Many a minutes I had spent dreaming of hurling a stone at the flickering bulb.

The sly flickering light always slid past my thick curtains and danced in my room, waking me up on numerous occasions.

The street lights ruin the essence of the night, I have always felt.

Arms crossed I turned and stood looking at Sanjana.

There seemed to be a hint of a smile on her face, her sparkling eyes now shut, soft fair cheeks resting on the fluffy pillow, she looked peaceful in her sleep.

Love at first sight it was for me, the word beauty for once had fallen short of describing her smile.

“Why did she keep the window open on such a cold winter night?” I shook my head.

Walking away from the window I looked at Sanjana.

On my knees I sat looking at her, her baby pink shirt missing a button revealed to the world her fair bosoms. I bent down to place a soft kiss on them, played my fingers on them gently, moving from one to another. Softly pressing with the tips of my finger on them, I bent down for another kiss.

Aware of my presence, turning away from me, she spoke

“Not now Sid, I have an important meeting tomorrow morning.” 

Back in the bed, I struggled to go back to sleep. Desperate for a warm touch, I turned to Sanjana, but my brain tried to communicate the importance of her meeting to my confused heart.

Turning and tossing in my bed, my eyes adamant to close shut; I finally got up and sat on my bed.

A sip of water may be I thought, pushing myself off the bed. I walked out of the room slowly towards the dining table.  

Seven years it had been living together but we were yet to master the art of keeping a water bottle close to our bed.

As I picked up the bottle and let a gulp of the cold water hit my throat, I stood motion less trying to feel the cold water make its way to my stomach. Little joys of life, I felt every time the drops of water hit my dry throat. Small gulp after another I tried to feel the cold water gush past my throat,

“Best drink ever” the words echoed in my head as I put back the empty bottle.

A trip to the terrace felt apt, walking up the stairs, I smiled. The silence around was an infant too, taking birth with the death of Sheeba.

Sheeba the street dog that roamed the roads in the dark of the night, howling with all her might and barking at anything that moved, chasing a car or scratching the iron gate, every step of Sheeba irritated me.

Sheeba was found life less in the gutter early morning, a hard rock smashing her head. Watching her lying dead in her pool of blood, it brought a smile to my face.

“The death of that dog will bring me peace.” I had once spoken to my wife’s shock.

She loved Sheeba and fed her regularly.

A hero she was, to have chased down a masked man trying to enter a neighbor’s house one night.

Loved by all, her death had shocked the neighborhood.

“A psycho, he will die a painful death.” My wife had gutted out her disgust at the dinner table.

Smile I controlled from playing on my face.

Sitting on the parapet wall, I looked at the empty street. I smiled, my day had finally arrived. The darkness filled up the street and the silence of the night roamed the streets with no Sheeba to break it down.

Getting up from the parapet wall I walked towards the line of flower pots that decorated the terrace wall. Walking past them with my fingers rubbing the coarse surface, I stopped at a pot filled with broken pieces of plastic mugs. Reaching beneath the pile of the broken plastic, I pulled out my cigarette packet.

Back to my position on the parapet wall with my legs facing the ground 30 feet below, I sat holding a cigarette between my fingers. How I longed for a puff, the desperate feeling to drag in a cloud of smoke into my lungs, I could hardy explain to Sanjana.

Letting out a cloud of smoke I felt at peace.

I never understood the fear in my heart I had for Sanjana, was it out of love? I wondered.

Hiding from the world, fear of getting caught playing bright in my head, I smoked my cigarettes in the dark of the night.

 “King, But I smoke a King”, I spoke out loud the brand name but couldn’t help smile at the irony.  

Lifting my head up I looked at the night sky, the moonless sky with sparkling white dots spread all across, not new but the view always left me amazed.

I often thought “Could there be someone sitting in one of those sparkling dots, looking up at their sky, and thinking

“Is there someone out there? Are we alone?”

“We always live our lives at eye level, never for a second looking up to may be something bigger than us.” The thought in my head had been there for long.

Pulling my thoughts back to the ground I pulled a last drag at my cigarette.

Carefully dispatching the cigarette butt deep into the mud that filled the flower pot, I turned to look at my neighbor Zoya’s house.

The lights turned out, but the window open, I could see her curtain swaying to the steady waves of breeze.

“My love and my love both think alike.” I smiled looking at the open window.

  

Novel Idea

Jimmy

Inspiration for me has been the biggest motivation. I once read a story that inspired me so much that I had to write a tribute to it, the story below titled Jimmy is a tribute to 'Mohiniattam' a story by The Fool.

A piece of land by the road side, a field once but now a playground, a green blanket of grass for the cows of the village sit touching the compound walls of Muthanna’s home.

A retired forest officer Muthanna was once the king of the jungle that spread across kilometers of land surrounding Bagamandala. Two well built forest guards always by his side, his trusty gun in his tight grip, the neatly ironed bright green uniform covering his wide frame, a thick moustache symbolizing his pride, watching Muthanna walk the streets of Bagamandala fascinated me.

Muthanna was a man who could send a shiver down anyone’s spine with just one glare, the tigers in the mountains, the elephants in the jungle roamed in fear of Muthanna, I always imagined.

One summer when I was ten, postman Ponappa had told me the story of Muthanna slaying a tiger with his bare hands.

"He encountered the beast on his way back to the forest office from his routine inspection, the animal had gone rogue with attempts of killing humans. Muthanna got out of his jeep stared at the tiger, he pulled out his gun and threw it down on the ground and said “I will give you a fair fight at life. He pounced on the tiger bringing it down with several blows. He took a nail from one of its claws as a trophy and hung it around his neck with a gold chain and walked away without a scratch."

After Ponappa left that day, inspired by Muthanna’s courage I had spent many a days walking around our small estate in search of a worthy contender to battle and spent glorious hours holding a small bug looking at it and saying

“I will give you a fair fight at life.”

Muthanna now retired spent much of his time staying indoors or working in his small coffee farm. A contrast to his glorious past, wearing a dhoti and a white mud covered vest, walked around his farm with a stick in his hand. His wife Kamalamma a school teacher at the Government middle school had a few years before she retired as well. Devoid of kids and no relatives close by, their time was mostly spent with just the two fighting or alone by themselves.

Muthanna having lost all his power, his gun and his kingdom had gotten crankier with each passing year. Every single act of his wife irritated him; the salt never seemed to be enough in the food and the sugar always too much in the coffee. She could try hard but could hardly meet his expectations, she was forbidden from the garden which he maintained with utmost care.

“My plants will die if they look at your face.” He always shouted at his wife.

His wife having to deal with his temper spent a lot of her time praying to lord Bagandeshwara for relief from her irritated husband.

Everyone feared Muthanna, anything could tick him off and nobody wanted to come in his way of furry. His trips to the market always ended with him shouting and threatening to kill one or two. Shopkeepers on seeing him on the streets would jump into a prayer hoping he would not enter their shop.

His smiles had faded, the lines on his forehead increased, stubble on his chin and an aging body, Muthanna was no more the man the jungle beasts had once feared.

Along with his wife the children in the playground by his house also faced the wrath of his anger almost everyday. Although having lost several of their cricket balls to Muthanna the kids still took their chance by coming to the ground every evening.

The sight of the playing kids angered Muthanna, their speeding cricket balls could damage his well groomed coffee plants, dirty his white washed compound wall or break the glass of his windows. A stick in his hand ready to whack any kid who dare enter the compounds of his house, he sat on his door steps sipping his evening coffee but keeping a watchful eye on the kids playing in the ground every evening.

Gowri a four year old dog had littered at the corner of the ground about three months back and three grown up puppies roamed the ground in playful mood. One of the three always strayed away from his mother to find his way to Muthanna’s compound.

Jet black shiny coat covering his body, a white patch on his chest, white on his two front paws making him look like he were wearing a pair of gloves and a small white patch at the end of his black tail like a jasmine blooming from the end of a branch, ‘Jimmy’ he was affectionately called by the boys in the play ground.

Kamalamma on a few occasions had fed the dog a piece of dosa which tempted him to walk towards the compound wall. She had once mentioned of bringing home Jimmy, but Muthanna was in no mood to listen to her demands. He had walked out of the room leaving her alone and heart broken.

Everyday morning standing near the compound wall Jimmy would wait for a while for a piece of dosa. Never had he once wandered in the evening, the boys playing in the ground gave me enough attention to keep him occupied. But one evening he dared to enter the compound walls of Muthanna’s house.

Sitting and sipping his evening coffee Muthanna almost missed the dog enter his expanse. Jimmy walked up to him and barked with affection, startled by the sudden shrill noise Muthanna reached for his cane and without a second thought chased away the dog swinging the cane furiously in the air. Jimmy in fear ran away but he was a excited too of the action that had his heart racing faster.

The next evening he walked up to Muthanna again and the same treatment stood waiting for him. A few days passed but his determination didn’t fail, is it the biscuit in my hand or the smell of my coffee, Muthanna couldn’t point a finger at the dog’s attempt to come back to him every evening.

Jimmy like every evening for the past 10 days walked up to Muthanna one day, dark clouds had filled up the blue sky the sun was forced to disappeared behind a dark cloud that roared in furry, soft gray light covered Bagamandala, thunder and a lighting passed by every minute warning of the heavy rains about to lash on the sleepy village. Muthanna looked at the dog, he stood surprised staring at his wagging tail and his energetic bark. Panting with his tongue rolled out he sat erect on his four legs looking at Muthanna with sparkling eyes and no sign of fear.

Muthanna curious, picked up a piece of biscuit and threw it in the air, Jimmy jumped and caught it before it could land on the ground. Excited by his lightning-quick reaction Muthanna threw another piece at the dog, and this time he jumped even higher in the air to catch it.

Realizing that he was holding the empty coffee glass all this time and had run out of biscuits, he walked into the kitchen to wash his glass. Standing by a cement sink he washed the glass and turned around to get a piece of biscuit. Surprised he stood looking at Jimmy who had followed him in. The dog looked at him with his ears bent, a tilt in his head and his eyes fixed at him.

The clouds in the sky roared and the children in the ground shouted with joy when the first drops of rain hit the ground. Muthanna reached down to the dog and smiled.

He petted him for a few minutes before giving him another piece of biscuit.

“Jimmy you want another one?” he asked the dog.

Jimmy barked in response to earn another piece of biscuit.

They walked out to the front yard, a drizzle of rain welcomed them both. Jimmy jumped out on the ground with his mouth wide open at the sky, running around in circles trying to catch the drops of rain in his mouth. Muthanna stood for a few minutes smiling and watching him, not in any mood to control him self he joined Jimmy, running behind him trying to catch him. Excited, Jimmy joined in the game of ‘catch’ with Muthanna and ran around faster. The walls of the compound, the air in the front yard, his dear coffee plants and the cold iron gates all heard the sound of Muthanna’s laughter for the first time in many years.

Kamalamma running back from school was surpised to hear the sound of laughter echoing of her compounds walls, she reached the gate and stood shocked looking at her husband laughing and running behind a dog. Her prayers were finally answered, in shock she stood but a smile took birth on her face, her brow relaxed from the tension it covered, her shoulders felt light as she watched her husband smile.

She stood there quite not wanting the moment to end, fearing her presence might anger her husband.

Muthanna realizing his wife’s entry stopped his game and looked at her with a smile, he smiled at her and called Jimmy at once. Kamalamma could hardly remember the last time Muthanna had smiled. She smiled at him and stood looking at the two play as tears rolled down her cheeks.

Jimmy tore away from Muthanna and ran towards her. He pushed at her leg with his nose and nibbled on her toe calling for her attention. She bent down and placed a kiss on his forehead, he barked at her excited.

Muthanna walked up to her and smiled

"I will make some coffee for you come lets go in before it starts to rain heavy."

Kamalamma had never imagined such a day would come in her life. The dark clouds in her life seemed to have parted away and the smile of the bright sun glowed on her face.

As they walked into the house they stopped and turned to see Jimmy following them in, Muthanna bent down patted his head and smiled at him. He was about to go in when a cricket ball bounced into the compound, terrified kids lined up near the gate with no hope of getting their ball back.

Tossing the ball in the air and catching it, Muthanna walked up to them, following him close stood Jimmy looking at the kids.

He threw the ball back to the kids and said

“I will give you all a fair fight at life.”

Not understanding what he had said but happy to have the ball back the kids ran shouting out in joy. The clouds rumbled and a steady fall of rain touched the ground.

Muthanna smiled and stood at the gate watching the kids run back into the streets leading to the market as lights on the streets lit up and slowly walked out the cloudy evening welcoming the moon lit night.

Bangalore Bloggers meet

"272 registered bloggers for the event, now that is going to be some event." I smiled at the screen registering myself for the much awaited Bangalore Bloggers meet.

Sunday afternoon, with the event scheduled to start at two, i rode the surprisingly empty streets of Bangalore to reach the venue.

Fortune Park stood majestic looking over the flyover that ran past the race course. Walking into the reception and lobby the only two words in my head were elegant and classy.

"Seventh floor, The Tunnel" the reception guy smiled welcoming me to the hotel.

I walked into the lift with a fellow blogger, little did i know then that he held a PhD in Solar Energy.

The Tunnel, with blue lights circling from the bottom of the wall to the ceiling, felt more like an entrance to a Disco.

The Indiblogger team was ready to welcome us, with a couple of new faces who had joined the team, Anoop, Anwin, Karthik welcomed us with a cheerful smile, and some powerful shakes (hand). Ravin as always walked around with his trade mark camera hanging by his neck. A few bloggers here, a few there. I stood for a second trying to look for a familiar face.

This being my third blogger meet I was more than hoping to running into some blogger friends. The narrow hall pimped with a big screen projector which was hooked onto a laptop, looked all the more ready to take the event to a all new level.

As I walked further towards the screen I heard a guy complain of hash tags and spacing, not to my surprise it turned out to be MSIGeek, the master tweeter and technology expert, beside him sat Raj an avid tweeter. Saraswathan. R the eldest blogger in the house, S.R Ayyangar retired Bank Manger and an active blogger, Raghav the man who defines inspiration for me. I took an empty seat beside a gamer boy actually Quaker boy, a game designer and developer.

Anoop took control of the mike and pushed the event rolling

The first day of office is always filled with unbelievable amounts of excitement. A desire to excel soared and to reach newer heights the heart dream't.

I walked into that office on the fateful day knowing that the excitement always come with short shelf life and it wouldn't take more than a couple months to start cribbing and cursing work.

I walked through the glass doors to enter a huge area filled with cubicles, the floor soft with thick carpet, the walls glowing with vibrant colors, glass walled conference rooms, the chill of the A.C, different but they all looked familiar.