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July 30, 2017

The Story of Him - IV

Hello, drawled RS. Hey, what's happening with you? No call for days or is months, Where have you been RS. What have you been up to? It seems like life has made you an expert on special appearances... You never talk to me and neither, I gather to any of the others. What's wrong? Are you fine....? And he went on and on. In what seemed to be several minutes worth of high pitched advises but lasted only for a few seconds, RS said hi, how are you. How is Aunty (easily the easiest way to divert your well-wishers attention is to recall your relation with his or hers family), I hope she is keeping well. Yes, RS, she is doing fine, we have to make monthly visits to PGI and the bus ride sometimes rattles her. But this is how it is, I am the son and I have to take care, isn't it....

Yessss, RS replied recalling him to be the fittest friend he ever had, running from Solan to Shimla in a few hours. At the peak of his athletic supremacy, he used to run for up to twelve hours in a single day over high hills and wide rivers. His was the ultimate body, not an ounce of fat..... not much bulk either...just pure animal sinews...RS could imagine him carrying his mother down from the mountains to the grand old hospital of Chandigarh without breaking a sweat, carrying out the ancient Indian tradition of Shravan who carried his blind parents across the country side. If only he could have excelled and cleared the army interviews, he would have made a great soldier for the country, one that the forces would have been proud of. But the very army rejected him thrice in the interviews - all for reasons unknown.

Yes, my dear old friend said RS... Yes.... You need to take care of the elders and that's that.... Anyways, how has life been? Hmmm, let me see... I dream of the army even today and moreso today... So many of our friends who entered the forces without breaking a sweat have been dropping out like flies... Imagine, after all the care the forces took of them, after all the money spent...here they are.... running away to sell soaps...soaps of all things.... Imagine an army man selling soaps... And I who wasted, no persevered for so many years now have the misfortune of being the host to all these runaways when they come visiting Chandigarh to reminisce the old college days.. And I who serves them hot fucking parathas when all my mind says, Wish I was in the army.... But here I am, a manager for a sales team, selling soaps over phone.... What an irony...my ex-army friends sell soap and so do I... And imagine how it would have been........

Leave it; I actually called you to let you know that I have transferred the money back to your account... Thanks a lot for the help, now that I have my dream house as well... in the city of dreams, my life is set... I have repaid all my installments, have blown away half my parent's pension on that dream house and now I have to commute two hours everyday because that dream house is faraway in the suburbs.... And to think that I own thirty acres of apple orchards in Himachal..... So fucked up, life is, isn't it..........

Hmm, RS pondered, ever the fast thinker.....Hamm... Take kindly to life....life herself is in a mess, managing so many of us and so much of our wasteful ways..... And thanks for calling, I am busy and we will speak in the evening....You cool down and bring your mother down to the plains. With this, the major event of RS's life, atleast for today came to an end....


July 26, 2017

The Story of Him - III

RS had this bad habit back then as well. He would launch into his extempore of death almost suddenly and then shock all of his friends into imagining their dead selves, twisted, gnarled, and stone-like. Happy souls sitting on the university wall would instantaneously turn into statues listening to RS's hysterical metaphors on death.

RS was dreaming of the old days and of the fact that most of his friends were now dead, divorced or distant and he was infact the only link to several of his old friends - their only connect as they could not bring themselves to talk to each other - he was their convenient sounding board. Sleeping, he could afford a smile.... sleeping, he almost looked god-like with a smile on his dimpled, youthful face. Sleeping, death usually decided to give him a miss.....

The phone rang. RS got up casually, he was not one to mess around his body patterns, he knew getting up suddenly could shock his body into disintegration. He was always careful not to pain his body.... The phone kept on ringing, the caller oblivious to the fact that RS had these unique theories about life that ensured that he cared the least about the human world around him and was only concerned about his interaction with the unreal world.

Waiting long enough for RS to pick up, the caller must have tired for the call got disconnected abruptly. RS went back to his reverie immediately and dozed off. His dreams came back to him, he saw a distant relative on a Ferris wheel, going round and round.......the wheel went on, when at last, his head spun over and the dream came to an end. The phone rang again, the tune ringing like some old song...pulling him back into memories of old... back to the college days when the song was a hot favourite aongst doped out guitar friends - who would hum the tune for days on end...
He finally picked the phone and saw the time in the illuminated screen....... Three in the noon, no lunch and the prospect of facing his forsaken friend who definitely asks for more money....

July 23, 2017

The Story of him - II

He felt sleepy; thinking about death all the time usually makes him slightly tired. And sleep was anyways preferable as it was the closest feeling he ever had that mimicked death. It made him unaware of the world around him, lulled him into a comfortable disbelief that he is suspended nowhere and most importantly, made him dream. Crazy, confused, lustful, coloured - dreams of all sorts and varieties.

RS as his few friends called him was a floating soul. Never having being straitjacketed into a type or a personality, he was infact many things to many people. He was friends to several, people who thought him to be their own, yet they would not realise that he would just float out of their lives, the moment he closed the door behind him. They felt he was their brother, a member of the fraternity, yet were surprised to see him chatting away the girls from the neighbouring society without a care. His friends would be confused at his behaviour but put it off by claiming that all of it was temporary and he would be back to his old group again.