What's your dream?

We were friends, the kind of friends who can be called as best friends. We studied together, sat together in classes and even ate together on occasions. She made it clear to all our classmates that we were nothing more than 'best' friends - to prevent any kind of misunderstandings - but nevertheless we did share a special chemistry.

She was sincere, smart and beautiful; God bestowed her everything a girl could desire. While me, I was just a naive and immature kiddo', as she used to address me. Sitting by her side, I could not find anything more important than adoring her. She didn't notice it, and even if she noticed it, she didn't give it much attention. Perhaps, she had become used to such stares once in a while courtesy to her being only one of the few good-looking girls that my college(IIT Delhi) possessed.

She was a dreamer, with big ambitions for her small-yet-exceptionally-sharp brain. Small in comparison to the big-box-of-mud affixed over my neck by the Almighty and sharp which was quite evident by the streak of her academic achievements ranging from medals in International Olympiads to scholarships from foreign universities.

While, I was still struggling to find a place under my feet - to find my ambition for life. I often found myself busy finding my 'purpose of life' instead of studying before the examinations, thus letting mediocrity overshadow every aspect of my personality. God only knows how we managed to become best friends - it was due to our common interest in dramatics, I guess!

Once, we were sitting in the library and as always, she was helping me in fighting with books when Samarth, a batchmate of ours, came towards our table. He had been a good friend to her, and so to me.

"Hey Deeksha, can I borrow a minute from you? I want to talk about something in private." Samarth said.
"What's so private that you want to hide from Harsh? If you wish then say it in front of him or I am not interested to hear."
"Okay, please don't get angry. This may seem odd but if I don't commit it to you, I would become a maniac for sure. Deeksha, I like you, in fact, I love you. This feeling has captivated me ever since we first talked. I am crazy about you." He said shyly.

I didn't know why but I felt choked from inside, as though someone had cut my tongue and flushed my brain with chloroform. In a fit of blankness, I realized that I too was crazy about her - madly crazy - and I just could not afford to lose her.

"What's your dream?" Deeksha asked, in a serene tone, showing no particular reaction at all.
"Oh...yeah...obviously, my dream is to be with you always." He stammered nervously. I was dumbfounded seeing what she was upto.

"Samarth, I really respect your feelings for me. But you're not the kind of guy I would want in my life. I'm sorry." She said calmly. He didn't say a word and left the place.

"What? What was that?" I asked, puzzled.
"What?"
"How could you be so cool all throughout? And, how could you judge a guy with just one question? You're strange." I said.

"For me, a goal-less lover is the category I detest the most. I want somebody who is clear about his dream - his aim in life - because I believe that one can't understand what love means if one has not experienced it for himself - for his ambitions and his dreams. The kind of love which Samarth had for me would not last long, since it was mere infatuation. His only ambition was to get me and the day he succeeds in that, I would lose importance in his life because he will become dream-less and complacent with himself." She said.

I was lost in her words. Her every word did a silent work of crushing my dream of someday conveying my feelings to her. 'I was just a mediocre for her!' My inner voice yelled inside me.

Months went by, my fondness for her grew exponentially while my self-confidence plunged down, because in the meantime, she rejected four more proposals as they could not satisfy her ideology. The thought, 'I was not good enough for her!' pervaded my mind all the while.

Three months later
"Hey, I got selected for the International Photonics Conference to be held in Germany. I would be leaving on the next Sunday for two weeks. The best part is that the institute is funding me for the trip." She announced to a group of friends, me included in the group.

"Wow, cheers!" Everyone in the group reciprocated, but not me. I was definitely happy for her but inwardly I knew that I would miss her, miss her like hell. But, I was no-one to take more importance in her life than her dreams and her ambitions. 'Best friends' is a silly term to categorize the people who are important to you but not very special to you.

Time for her to go came soon. I went to the airport to see her off and bid her a goodbye hug with a tearful smile, which said more than what my words could. She seemed happy and smiled back in the usual way saying, "I'll miss you kiddo'."

"I'll miss you too." I managed to mumble.
"Promise me that you'll study hard." She said pulling my ears.

I promised her without reflecting on her words being completely lost in her eyes. How could she not notice that I like her? It had been more than five months of our friendship and it seemed like a lifetime of my fondness for her.

The two weeks passed like months and her thoughts clouded my mind all throughout. My feelings for her didn't know how to apply brakes. I was in love with her, though I knew that I had nothing in myself to complement even a trace of her talent, intelligence or beauty. I was a goal-less lover, after all!
She came back having rocked the international conference with her brilliant presentation on Quantum Optics. I was more than proud of her. The moment she reached the institute, she called me, "Hey kiddo', am back! I so much want to meet you."

"Hey, you know what I am so proud of you! I have so many stories to relate. I am in the library, trying to battle with the books but with no success on my side. Where are you? I'm waiting for you here. Come soon, otherwise I'll kill you!" I said in my seemingly excited voice.

Ten minutes later
"Hel..looooo!" She said and tapped my shoulders from behind.
"Hey! I missed you like hell." I exclaimed and hugged her heaving a great sigh of relief.
"I missed you too. You know what? I've realized something!" She said calmly.
"What?"
"That I love you." She whispered into my ears. I was flabbergasted. My feet started trembling. My heartbeat rose up. Sweat mixed with tears suddenly adorned my cheeks.

Taking a deep breath in, I gathered myself a little and could utter just one question, "What's your dream?"

"My dream," she whispered, "is to make you dream!"

P.S. This story is pure work of fiction, it bears no resemblance to anyone I know or you know. It has been written just to emphasize one thought that I had.

Love Story - II

This is the best story I've written till date. Because, I've written it with my heart, not with my head.

Late July 2008
New Delhi
"That was the most special thing you've ever said to me." I said.

"What was so special about it? I just said that I trust you blindly - how could that be counted as special? Are you so elated because you're being trusted for the first time?" She said, continuing the conversation.

"The sheer fact that 'you' are telling me this means so much to me. I can't express the pleasure I received on hearing that!"
"See, I am not that bad. I am rather good at flattery!"
"But you're much better at being mean."
"I know. It's my forte. Let me ask you something - do you trust me?" She asked genuinely.
"Hell yeah! I trust your flattery, one hundred percent. After all that is what makes me feel special."
"Oh poor baby! You know what, you're gifted at seeking sympathy. It's your forte. That's why I like you, that's why I trust you and that's why I love you." She said.

I was bewildered. The ease with which she said the last three words gave me a series of goosebumps. I just could not believe that. We had been more of phone friends - having met just thrice - once during my college fest and on other occasions in common birthday parties(she being my friend's friend). I already had got some feelings for her by then but it was unclear from her side (until then). And now, she was hinting me that the story was on from the other side too.

"What? What did you say just now? Did you mean it or was it just a part of flattery?"
"What? I meant whatever I said." She said.
"You mean ... you mean you love me?"
"Yeah! I love you ... as a very good friend of mine!"

Now what was that? Another flattery? Or another gimmick? I hated her for sure!

"I joked earlier that you are mean, but now I mean it. I mean it that you're mean ... the meanest person I know!" I said irritably.
"What is this, Silly? You'll get angry if things don't go according to your wishes. I told ya that I love you, isn't that sufficient in itself to make you happy? Why are you bombarding me with yet another bag full of tantrums - sympathy seeking tantrums! By the way, you sound adorable when you're irritated!"

"Stop kidding! Things are pretty much serious. Now things have gone down this track, let me tell something to you. You mean to me - mean to me in a very special way rather than just being my friend. I want to give you each and every happiness of this world. I want to be there with you always - in times when you need somebody by your side or in time when you're getting bored."

"You contradicted your own statement, Silly. I won't need you when I am getting bored because I am dead sure you'll be the one who would be making me bored."

"You take everything as a joke. Why can't you see my evident love for you? I want to be yours forever - I want to be your guy - Just tell me, will you let me enter your life as someone who's more than just a friend?"

"Yeah, as a friend and a sweeper! I need to save some money. A sweeper friend would save a hell lot of money!"
"Stop fooling around. Answer me or I'll cut the phone." I rebuked.
"I know you would not cut the phone, Silly. If you would, then how will you hear my answer?"

I was agitated. This girl is going to blow my brain off my skull!

"Don't irritate me more. Just tell me what do you want?" I asked, frustrated.
"I want to leave it upon God."

Oh God! From where the hell did He come up? If I had been given an AK 47, I would have searched and shot dead each and every God present on this Earth!

"Wow, what a sick choice! Leave it upon God, damn! The day you are old enough to die, he'll come to meet you and tell you that you should say a 'yes' to my proposal. And then come with all the band-baaja of your ghost-friends to marry this wrinkled guy!"

"Wrinkled but still handsome!" She joked, once again.
"Oh thanks, the Queen of Flattery-kingdom. What more could I do for you, your Majesty?"
"Wait for tomorrow. If it rains tomorrow, I'm going to say a yes."

What the hell was that?

"What the hell is that? It's late July and haven't you seen the searing sun? There is no probability that it rains. It's being unfair to me."
"If God has a positive answer for me, then it will rain."

I was not sure whether God had a positive answer for her or not but I was totally sure that whatever be the case, God would have a negative answer for me. It had always been like that. Nothing had ever come to me just by chance.

"You're impossible." I said and hung up the phone. She didn't call me back. Nor did I. We both waited silently for the next day. The next day tested too much of my patience by taking more than the usual time to come.

I slept late being lost in thoughts - thoughts about her and then the thoughts about 'us' - with my bed being just adjacent to the window. The thoughts overladen with skepticism about the next day had overburdened my mind and it wanted rest. Sleep took over - it was a deep sleep.

Drops of water slapped hard on my eyelids. The tired and glued eyelids experienced a magical curtain raising. My deep sleep had been evil-eyed, evil-eyed for bliss of a lifetime. The morning sun forgot to show the early-risers its majestic face. Clouds danced in the rain - yes rain! It was the best morning of my life.

I picked up my phone and straightaway called her. She was sleeping - unaware of the summer rain.

"Hey, your God answered and answered for me too! First tell me, where is my 'yes'?" I charged.
"Your 'yes' is still with me and I am too selfish to give it to you." She said, with her voice seeming drunk.
"But why?" I pleaded.
"God can't be so direct. It is just by chance that it rained, my belief has not yet been enforced. If it rains again tomorrow, I'll say a yes. Promise!"
"What? What the hell? What is this? You are being mean! You don't need to prove your forte again and again."
"Practice makes a woman more perfect." She must have winked after her statement. I could almost see it through the phone.

"You know what, your jokes don't seem funny at all. You are one hell of a confused girl and of course, you're 'the' meanest person I know. Let me tell you aloud that I hate you." I said and disconnected the call.

I was feeling a bit guilty for being so rude to her. A minute later, her SMS dissolved all my guilt. She wrote, "Smile. That's the second best thing you can do with your lips. And stop fantasizing about the first thing, Silly!"

I did smile and messaged her back a smiley simultaneously. We shared no words that day.

At night she did call. I hung up saying, "Let us talk tomorrow only, if anything happens then."

"Not anything Silly, 'something'!" She managed to squeeze her sentence before I cut the phone.

I slept at my regular time and this time thoughts played hide and seek with my blank mind, ultimately giving a path to dreams to play an emotional movie inside my head. This time I didn't wait eagerly for the next day to arrive, thus giving it ample time to arrive on its own. Surprisingly, it indeed arrived quite early.

The next morning, the Sun was back at its original duty with its full radiance mode on. The aura seemed to be telling me, "The clouds have been shunned off completely. Now your life is going to be darkened with light."

I just watched and watched and then looked at my watch. It was college time. Busy Saturday it was. I could not notice how the dusk merged with the effulgent morning and brought an end to the day of my glory. It was already dark with night's shadow encapsulating the whole of the surroundings in its funny darkness. I don't know why it seemed funny to me. We had not shared a word that day until then.

Free from work, a bit anxious to ask her to reconsider the last morning rain as God's answer, I looked at my phone intently. It showed nothing but blankness - much the same as the condition of my mind at that time. But suddenly, the blankness was replaced by a phrase called 'She calling!' flashing intermittently on the screen.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! A million times. That's the God's answer." She yelled, her voice reached the epitome of excitement.

"Did it rain today?" I asked with my heart lost in thinking something that I could not trace. I was not anxious, that's all what I could feel that time.

"Yes, yes, yes; it has been raining here for the last two minutes. It's been raining elephants and hippos here." She said jubilantly. She was very happy.

Why wasn't I as elated as she was? Even her witty description of rain could not bring more than a stingy smile on my face. I looked up at the dark night sky. A huge rain-drop struck my spectacles with a great force and scattered all throughout. Soon followed more drops, some of which originated in my eyes, but the dark sky had enough resources to liquidate my tears. It rained. The clouds were just two minutes late, I was angry at them that they pleased the lady first, while I was waiting for them like never before.

"Some hippos have come here too." I said, still struggling to gather myself together.
"They have found their lost brother in you."
"Come on, my face is not like them. It's more like you rather." I said, trying to outshine her wit.
"Yeah, so I should say I've found my lost brother in you!"
"You always make me lose when I am winning."
"You never are." She said.

"Listen to me. I've to tell you something." I said. I was not feeling the same way I thought I would feel.
"What more? My stomach is full - with happiness and joy!"
"Give it a break. Now, it's not a yes from me." I said in a contemplative tone.
"Oh my God, yet another tantrum! Listen Silly, you don't act smart! Leave that bit to me."

"I am serious. If it rains tomorrow, then I'll say a yes. I need to convince myself whether it really works or not." I was damn serious. I don't know what made me say that but I stuck upon it, I meant it. One hundred percent.

"We'll talk tomorrow then. Tomorrow never 'lies'!" She said, a bit serious, though still I could guess that she would have winked for at least once. She loved being a one-eyed queen. Hell of a cute girl, she was. And I was in love with her. As was she with me.

The tomorrow came, not so suddenly and not too slowly even, at its perfect God-Made boring pace. I wanted to meet her. I called her.

"Hey, It's a Sunday."
"Thanks for making me realize that today you're going to stink." She said, poking me about my habit of not taking baths on weekends.
"I want to meet you and I've already taken a bath."
"Well, that's a surprise."
"What? Want to meet you or taken a bath?"
"First tell me whether this 'taking a bath' means bathing in perfumes or a proper bath." She said.
"Oh, so the 'I want to meet you' thing is not a surprise for you."
"Of course not. It's our day after all."
"How can you be so sure?" I asked, being struck by her optimism.
"In the same way you always remain unsure, Silly."

I already had a proper bath and I bathed in perfumes too. Having two baths a day does make you feel confident.

I went to meet her. The clouds flew out of my mind. I was thinking about her. Only her. This was the first time she was going to meet me all alone. I reached her place - a five-storeyed PG. She lived on the third floor, her window faced the road. I looked up at the window. The bright sunlight made it impossible for me to see anything discernible. I called her. She didn't pickup the phone. Her SMS came. It said, "Silly, you look sillier when you look up with your monkey-like face trying to fight the sunlight!"

I smiled. I looked up again, trying not to make my face look like a monkey, rather just like a simple moron - as it was. She was standing there at her window and suddenly, her hand extended out of the window and dropped a jug full of water over my 'moron'-ish face.

Another SMS came, "Silly, here is your rain. Are you now fully convinced that it really works?"

I replied with a smile, "Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! A million times."

She smiled back upon reading my message. She asked for five minutes which I happily gave her and I went to the other side of the road, standing there to wait for her.

She came with her little-bit wet eyes which were saying much more than her heart and jumped on me giving me the tightest hug ever.
"I love you." I managed to whine.
"I love you two, three, four, five, six ...." She squeaked, quite merrily.
"I love you a zillion times!" I said since I didn't want any competition in my love for her.
"I win!" She said and winked in the same way as I always used to imagine her on the phone.

I was lost in her, until something kissed my cheek. It was a wet kiss. That of the rain. The rain indeed arrived!

Short of Change

I've written many stories till now. All of them have been an outcome of my imagination. But, yesterday, my life itself had offered me a unique story. This is a story about how shockingly real, the real world is.

So here it is, a comparatively short-story which is 100% real -

Yesterday, I was on my way to the Nehru Place. Excited and happy, out of many reasons at all. I found an auto-driver who agreed to charge according to the meter was one of those many reasons. The weather had taken a smooth turn and it was more-or-less cloudy which gave my burnt skin a salving respite from Delhi's charring heat. After a short-siesta and a shorter lunch, those fluffy clouds played the role of the dessert.

The auto-driver was exercising his racing skills and it added to the fun since the not-so-warm wind was kissing my bearded-cheeks all throughout. The speedometer was touching the likes of nineties and I was feeling that the auto-driver had some ulterior motives of setting some speed record or testing the agility of the tyres, until my body started experiencing the sudden forces of inertia. Yes, the auto started decelerating. The image of a red-pixellated-disk of the traffic-light managed to cross my spectacles to finally paint my retina. The image was clear-enough to furnish my curious mind with the reason behind that sudden advent of inertia.

The auto decelerated at a decelerating rate and it took some time to come to a full stop. Probably, it was not until the auto-driver was completely convinced that his tyres have passed the agility test, that he stopped. My cheek encountered a sudden disappearance of its lover but soon somebody else took the place and gave it a wet sensation. Soon, the tickly wet sensation catapulted since the flood of sweat made its way downwards through the jungles of my beard.

'Tak-tak.' A knock buzzed my ears.

I looked out of the auto. There was nobody. My eyes roved around and then the gravity pulled it downwards. A lathi(wooden-stick) was approaching my field of view. The lathi proceeded ahead in front of my eyes to bring out its master and all the while, the painfully slow advent of the man-behind-the-lathi did a subtle task of sparking immense curiosity in me.

Moments later
Upon seeing the lathi with its master, I became a bit shocked after not being able to find a hand catching hold of its top-end. There was no hand at all. Instead it was just the arm-pit of his right hand that held that lathi; while the left hand, which was physically alright, was holding a stained plastic mug in hope of getting some alms.

'I don't have any change. Go ahead.' These words came out of my tongue unconsciously. My conscience tried to scold me for lying, but my logical and unkind mind subdued that faint inner-voice.

He looked at my eyes and oscillated his plastic mug in front of my eyes. It contained not more than six to seven rupees.

'Go ahead. You won't get anything here.' I rebuked him. He dragged himself slowly away from me. I could see his rags, each of those shreds contained in itself untold stories about his life. His life - which had no importance for me. Why should it even be important? He was frail and old - someone who would be counting his days to get liberated from this dreadful world.

Just at the moment he crossed the auto-driver, the auto-driver stopped him by holding his left-hand.

'Babaji, take this. Get yourself something to eat.' The auto-driver said handing over two coins of two rupees each to the Master of the lathi. I could see a divine smile on that old-man's face which seemed to be reassuring the auto-driver that his act of kindness would be remembered forever.

I was dumbstruck and embarrassed at the same time. I was feeling poor in front of that speedster. Something seemed weird to me. My engineering mind tried to find a reason. But, it failed miserably. Meanwhile, the red painting on my retina was transformed to green and my long-lost lover was back into action.

'Bhaiya, you embarrassed me! Why did you give money to that beggar? I mean...there are so many beggars in India...if you keep giving alms at every red-signal, how would you sustain yourself?' I asked.

'Saheb, I don't give money to each and every beggar that happen to cross my eyes. This old-man's condition was too worse. Have you ever thought how difficult it would have been to carry ourself if we had just one hand? Plus he was old, under-nourished and hungry. I just could not resist.'

'Half of India is hungry. You can't go and feed each of them.' I said irritably.

'Half of India is hungry. You can't go and feed each of them. But, you can help at least one who is really in need.' He said.

I didn't like his logic. My ego just didn't want to take lessons from an auto-driver. I chose to be quiet. The auto paced back to the nineties and my quietness remained my companion for the next ten minutes.

I reached Nehru Place. Fortunately, no more red lights hindered my cruise with the wind.

'Saheb, it is 57 rupees on the meter. Do you have any change?'

'Yes, I've change,' I said with pride and extended my right hand to hand him the fare, and simultaneously said, 'I am never short of change.'

He smiled and offered his left hand to collect the money. I didn't quite like it, as in India it is customary to give or accept money with the right hand - the righteous hand.

'Bhaiya, atleast extend your right hand.' I said.

He extended his right hand and I poured down a fifty-rupees note with seven lustrous coins which when struck his palms gave a sonorous sound. It drew my attention towards it. The fibre -fabricated single-coloured palm with no lifelines at all and the plastic fingers unable to catch hold of the seven metal disks made a shiver of shock run through my whole body.

I looked up at him. Those eyes showed conviction and there was an unrealistically beautiful smile on his face. In that short moment, his heart touched mine.

He looked into my eyes and said, ''Saheb. I wish that you're never short of change!" and moved back to his auto to set a new speed record once again.

P.S. Thank you for reading this. Hope I made you feel how I felt when it really happened.
P.S. The real stories are much more tragic and emotional. That's why I try to remain in the limit of my imagination.

The Dark Night

That cold winter night. My heart still whirls with fright when I remember that sight.

I never ever believed in ghosts. Every other day I used to see reports in the newspapers about someone facing some ghastly encounters with a spirit. All that I used to do was to laugh out as loudly as possible, since I found those stories immensely hilarious. But now, when I relate one of those stories, I get shaken with fright. Because that story recounts my encounter with one.

Last Winter
It was a very chilly night, capable of making your feet stiff if you happen to go out in slippers. I had just reached Jainagar, a small village in Bihar, the place where my grandparents lived. The train which was scheduled to reach Jainagar at about 9 pm at night reached the destination station four hours late. 

I jumped off the boggy as soon as the train stopped. My appetite did no good to my condition and I wanted to run to my grandfather's place as soon as possible. The house was 50 minutes on foot or 15 minutes ride on a rickshaw. My thrift could not compete with my sagging body and I decided to look for a rickshaw.

Moving out of the railway station, my eyes wandered. Pitch darkness enveloped by a gory silence prevailed. Besides the distant dogs' howls, all I could hear was my own footsteps. There was no-one to be seen. The passengers who descended the train with me had disappeared and I was left all alone. My eyes drifted along the moonlit asphalt ahead and then, in dearth of a companion, they started following my shadow. Tall, well-built and confident happened to be the few hidden reflections that I could see.

I trudged ahead, bleary-eyed, which sought rest intermittently, while my lazy feet searched for an excuse to not take the next step. The cold wind had already numbed my cheeks and the increasing darkness had rendered it impossible for my bespectacled eyes to deduce what was ahead. The clouds also had no mercy for me because they hid the only companion, the moon, I had while walking. The darkness had ripped myself off my shadow.

Suddenly, a shimmer struck my drowsy eyes from far away. Having walked for just around ten minutes, my lazy feet suddenly found a reason to quicken. The reason well-enough to reassure me that I was not alone on the road in that dark night. The shimmer swayed with the wind and it reached me sooner than I expected. It was the tremulous light of a lantern. The lantern with its owner sitting near it - someone with bent back and a tattered blanket wrapped around himself. Beside him, there was a rickshaw and it gave my tired mind a relief of a lifetime.

"Will you go to Rajiv Nagar?" I asked, presuming him to be the rickshaw-wala.
"Yes," A hoarse voice of a grave baritone came from within that blanket. He got up with the back still bent, as though it was a hunchback, while the blanket eclipsed every aspect of his from me. He diminished the lantern's flame and handed it over to me.

I got seated, while he tightened his blanket around his entire body, not even sparing his face - which I could not even get a chance to see all the while. He set the rickshaw in motion, without uttering a word. The ghastly lull was broken by the rhythmic sound of the moving chains of the rickshaw. The clouds became benevolent and revealed the moonlight to me. I became lost adoring the beauty of the moon when suddenly the cold wind started slapping my cheeks. The rickshaw had been accelerating at an astoundingly great pace. Meanwhile, the hide and seek between me and the moon started again, making it impossible for me to even decipher what was coming ahead.

I shouted at the rickshaw-wala, "Will you please go slow!"

He didn't listen nor did he care.

"Will you go slow?" I screamed at the top of my voice. He was undeterred. The speed increased and abruptly, he took a sharp right turn, almost making me topple, when I squeaked, "Stop! Stop it!"

My yell did the job. He stopped. I was just ten minutes away from home, so I thought that it was better to rely on lazy feet than a psycho rickshaw-puller. I jumped off the rickshaw, placed the lantern on the seat with its flame fully lighted, and took out my wallet - the wallet which contained a little more than two-thousand rupees. I took out a ten rupees note in front of him, when he abruptly removed his blanket.

What beheld my sight made a series of shiver go through my body. I was experiencing an earthquake - strong enough to make me frightened every single time I happen to recall it in the future. The ten rupees note as well as my wallet fell off my shaking hand and even in that cold winter night, I became drenched in sweat.

There he  was, standing straight - at least six-feet three inches tall, with a fully withered face - as if somebody had rubbed his face with cactus, and two of his canines protruding out of his face, being as sharp as a dagger.

My appetite had become a history. My feet felt paralyzed with fear, no matter how desperately I wanted to run away from him, I could not exercise any control over my body. I looked up at his eyes. They were deep red. The sweat as well as the shiver increased over thousand times with just that sight. I just could not stare at him. I felt like running away. I moved my eyes to the ground to avoid the gruesome sight, just out of fear. What I saw hit me hard - he was wearing a shredded shoe which I found very familiar.

I looked up again. In a moment, all my fear was vanquished. Without wasting a moment, I kicked the most vulnerable part of his body.

He fell on the ground, crying aloud and I continued kicking him hard.

"Who are you? Tell me or I'll call the police!" I punched his face. His mask fell off.

"Saheb, it's me, Suresh - Sita-amma's son. Remember, she was the maid at your grandma's place? I didn't know it was you Saheb until I removed my blanket. If I knew it was you, I would have never frightened you," The human inside that ghost spoke up. I was perplexed.

"Suresh! What has happened to you? Why are you doing these things? Are you in your senses?" I whined.

"Saheb, it's not me but my circumstances!" Suresh said.

"Stop giving excuses. You cannot blame the circumstances for your crime."

"Saheb, I won't say a thing. You just come to my home with me," he pleaded with his hand folded.

I didn't resist, out of pity perhaps. I collected all my stuff which had fallen down and despite being hungry, I decided to give him a shot and boarded his rickshaw. He drove me across the village, through a forest, to another village. This time he drove at a much faster pace, while my heart as well as cheek remained  indifferent to the surroundings, being lost in what I'd just encountered. My thoughts came to a standstill just when another lantern came in my purview. The speeding rickshaw halted at a hut outside the dimly lit hut.

"Saheb, let us extinguish this lamp, it will save some me oil for tomorrow. We've another one inside my house," Suresh extinguished it and asked me to wait outside for two minutes till he prepared everyone at home to receive a guest at such an ungodly hour.

"Have you got some money? Tomorrow, we've to go to the doctor for Amma's cataract operation," I overheard a feminine voice speaking with concern.

"Sorry, I could not bring any money. I had this strange..."

"How will we manage then? You're so irresponsible...you couldn't even frighten anyone on the way...what's the use of these masks which I keep making for you everyday. Look at these children, they have not eaten anything tonight...if it goes on like this, they will die of hunger..." She didn't allow him to speak.

"We can discuss about it later. Will you listen to me?" Suresh rebuked.

Their conversation continued.

I peeped in through the window. What beheld my sight made a series of shiver go through my body. I was experiencing an earthquake - strong enough to make me frightened every single time I'll recall it in the future. There she was, standing straight, with her right skinny hand resting on her protruding belly. The dimly lit house was smaller than my washroom. It encompassed six malnourished children who rested on a thin mat, all covered in one long bedsheet, one undernourished pregnant lady with hands as thin as pencils, and a blind old lady who people lovingly called Sita-amma with the erstwhile ghost standing helpless in front of his god.

"Just look at him. His bones are .... oh my god! Babu, babu....!" Suresh's wife cried and started slapping the cheeks of their smallest child, who seemed more like a black skeleton in the shimmering light.

"What? What happened?" Sita-amma and Suresh screamed simultaneously.

"Babu is not breathing! Babu...babu...." She kept slapping her child until her hand felt that it was too late. The child was on her lap now, while she tried to wail with her choked throat, but alas, she could not. A minute later, groans, screams and cries seethed through that cold dark night while the moon stood as a mute spectator to what was going on. The lull, however, was broken by the ghastly outcry of pain.

I shuddered deep within. My appetite had become a history. Suddenly, my wallet fell off my shaking body near their door and my feet started moving away from that hut. I could not withstand that sight. It was dreadful.

Even in that dark winter night, I became drenched, this time not in sweat but in tears. I was terrified, as never before. Even the moon had no answer to what I'd just seen. After all, I had seen a ghost! The ghost of poverty...

Love Story

Once upon a time in the small town of Muzaffarnagar.
Manu never expected that one day his obsession for books would teach him so much in just one day.

12th April, 2009
"I am leaving this town on 12th April evening forever. My Father has decided to send me to Delhi for graduation. I didn't have the courage to tell you about all this personally since I know that I would never be able to conceal my emotions and I would end up hurting you in some way.

Before I leave this place, I want to let you know how important are you for me. There have been moments of fun, of joy and even of fights in between us and when I look back to those moments, I cherish every second that I spent with you. Your mere presence in my life has touched it to the core. You are the only person with whom I can share my feelings without any second thought. I don't know whether you have the same feelings for me or not, but before I leave this town, I must tell what you mean to me. People say that you hear bells ringing when you fall in love, but for me I can just hear one thing and that is my heart throbbing every time you are near me. I love you and will always love you come what may. Through this beautiful book 'Love Story', I wish to begin another beautiful love story.

I will be waiting for your reply till 12th. If you don't have feelings for me, then for my sake don't reply to this letter. It is always better to be hopeful for something rather than being heart-broken for life. I promise that I will never bother you again.

Always yours,
Kiran
6th April"

16 years old Manu was startled. This letter fell out of his newly purchased second-hand Eric Segal's 'Love Story' while he was juggling the book in air.

He turned the first page of the book, the name was Samridhi Kakkar, City College dated 8th April '09. Eyes were stirred with amazement - just seven days old book found in a second-hand bookstall. He felt responsible for something - The Chosen One for helping in the initiation of someone's beautiful love story.

"This Samridhi must haven't skimmed through the book, the letter in particular. I must try to reach out to her and hand this to her. It is a matter of love, after all. And I 'definitely' know what love means!" He thought.

At the college
The next five hours were difficult time for Manu. He straightaway went to the City College which was closed, 12th April being a Sunday. However, the office was open and there was just one staff who was too preoccupied in making a syrup out of the betel leaves in his mouth.

Manu enquired, "Bhaiya, can you give me the address of someone named Samridhi Kakkar in your institute."

The staff spat making a red heart-shape on the stained yellow wall and rebuked, "How could I give somebody's residential address to any stranger? Kuch chai paani, kuch bhi nahin, aa jaate hain log."

Manu, took out 20 rupees note from his pocket and handed to the guy. "Bhaiya it's important. Please hurry up." Manu said in quite a disgusted tone.

The staff slid the note in his shirt pocket and began to search through the register cursorily.

"What name did you say? Kakkar?" The staff asked in a garbled tone balancing a tablespoonful of the red syrup in his mouth. He was adept in this task of balancing.

"Yes, please hurry." Manu said, he wanted to finish off this responsibility as quickly as possible.

"If you are in so much haste, then do it yourself." The staff chided gulping another triangle of betel in his blood-red mouth.

Manu went towards the register, searched frantically and two minutes later he had a piece of paper adorned with the address - "Samridhi Kakkar, Sahni's girl's hostel, Cavalry lane."

He rushed to the place as quickly as he could.

At the Hostel's reception
"Can you call Samridhi Kakkar?" Manu asked.
"Samridhi, Room no. A-16, please come to reception." The guard announced.

Exactly 3 minutes, 34 seconds later
A good looking young girl of the age-group of 19-21 came to the reception.

"Hi, I am Manu Ujjwal. I purchased this book today at the Nalanda Bookstores. It bears your name." Manu went forward and said.

"Hi. Yeah, I sold that book a couple of days ago, even without reading it. So what brings you here?" Samridhi said, quite courteously.

"Why did you sell it? I heard it's a good book." Manu said, ignoring Samridhi's last question completely. He was still unable to initiate a talk about the letter.

"The start of the book - it was like 'What can you say about a twenty-five-year-old girl who died. That she was beautiful and brilliant.' I hate sad love stories." She said quite glibly.

"Where did you get this book from?" Manu asked.

"A friend of mine gifted it to me. Why are you asking me so many questions?"

"I found this in your book. I am sorry that I read it, it is quite personal." Manu said handing over the letter - the love letter to Samridhi.

She was puzzled. She read through it, her eyes were wet and her voice broke. She wiped her tears, gathered herself and said, "Thank you so much. You don't know what it means to me. I love Kiran from the last two years but never could convey my feelings to him. I was afraid that he does not like me. But, you have saved me from a sin. Thank you, thank you brother."

Manu smiled. The 16 years old had found a sister in her.

At Kiran's Place
"Come with me, I want you to meet Kiran. You are a Messiah for us." Samridhi said and took Manu with her towards a house on the parallel road. Reaching the fences, she called, "Kiran" when a handsome young lad came out.

"Hi Sam, how are you?" He smiled towards both of them as he moved out of his portico.

Samridhi ran forward and hugged him tightly. Kiran was confused with this sudden public display of affection and something more.

"You dumbass, where are you going without me? And why the hell were you afraid of telling me personally. If it were not Manu, I would have lost you forever. Thank him."

"What the hell are you talking about? I am going, what non sense. And who is he? Stop kidding Sam. April fool's day has long been gone!" Kiran shrieked quite irritably and pushed her out of his hug-field. Manu was bewildered. His newly awaken sister-safeguarding feeling haunted his mind, yet he was too stunned to react to Kiran's creepy behaviour.

"You know everything." Samridhi was nonplussed with his annoyance.

"What thing? What are you talking about?" Kiran said.

"Thank you Kiran, you made me feel so special! I love you too." Samridhi said.

"I like you too but isn't it quite a bizarre way to propose? I would have loved if you did it in a much serene way. And what feeling special are you talking about?" Kiran was very badly confused.

Samridhi took out the letter from the book and handed it over to Kiran. Kiran's eyes rushed through the letter. His face was transformed into a living sweat source. He frantically pulled his cellphone out, and stared at the date - 12th April and time - 3.30 pm. His eyes were transfixed to the letter, which was all wet after having a bath of sweat and tears together.

The Long Run
Holding his tears as well as the letter he started running frantically. Sam and Manu were perplexed. They followed him like wild dogs after a piece of meat. After five minutes of marathon, Kiran neared a house where a short-and-cute girl with bags in her hand had just boarded a rickshaw. He ran towards the rickshaw and shouted, "Kiran!"

The girl turned back, her eyes filled with tears of joy and a zillion-dollars smile on her face clearly showing that she is happiest one out there in this world. The marathon runner reached his finished line when his sweaty T-shirt struck against his Kiran's bosom and he heaved a cry of joy and the other Kiran echoed.

Samridhi tear grands also became active, but with a gracious smile embellishing her beautiful face. She was feeling really happy for Kiran - both of them, and now she really felt that what it is to be in love.

5 Minutes Later
"Kiran? You both are Kiran?" Manu asked, with a childlike curiosity.

"Yes." The Kirans replied with a smile worth millions.

"Thank Manu. If you are together, then it's because of him." Sam said after wiping out every form of liquid from her face.

"Thank you. How did the book reach you?" The lady Kiran asked seeing Eric Segal's Love Story in Manu's hand .

"Let me explain", Lord Kiran began, "You gifted me this book with the letter inside and I passed it on to Samridhi the next day on her birthday without even opening it."

The lady Kiran was disappointed but the joy of togetherness overpowered the trifle disappointment.

"And then when I read the first line - 'What you can say about a twenty-five-year-old woman who died?' I got detested. I hate sad love stories. I sold it to a second hand bookstore without even knowing that there was something inside it." Samridhi continued the story.

"And that's when the Messiah came!" Manu laughed out.

All about love
And then there was lull. A two minutes long pause.

"Thank you Sam for being pleasant all throughout. I am sorry that I ran so suddenly without giving you any hint. I just could not wait after reading that letter. I hope you didn't mind how I behaved to you even though you liked me." Lord Kiran said graciously breaking the enigmatic silence.

"That's no problem. I cannot express how happy I am for you two. And regarding my liking for you, clearly, she loves you more than me." Samridhi said with a tearful smile. And all three of them hugged, finally squeezing the young Messiah between them.

"I hate sad love stories." Samridhi's often repeated phrase echoed in Manu's mind.

"Clearly, Samridhi loves Kiran more than anybody else." Manu realized. Manu now 'definitely' knew what love meant.

P.S. Love is not measured by what you can 'give' for its sake, it is what you can 'give up' for its sake - Harsh.