Cycle sutra

Though I'm no philosopher, I know that human beings tend to become philosophical only when they have met with a heart jabbing, earth-shaking experience in their lives. It is also a time when all those atheists would finally believe in the Almighty and start chanting mantras silently to help them get out of the tricky situation. And that’s when we realize what Shakespeare had been shouting at the top of his voice through his poems ages ago- all the world’s a stage, all the men and women just players. To cut the philosophy short, it was one of those bad days which cannot come under the category of ‘bad hair days’. It was the day I lost my cycle.

My cycle and I share a very special relationship, or should I say, there’s chemistry between both of us. The two-wheeler had entered into my life when I was in my graduation and my mom had this silly reason to get the cycle- to deliver special food items made at home to my aunts and cousins. Well, silly though it may seem, it sure is difficult coz though all my aunts stay in one colony, the houses are far off and since I was the youngest at my house, it was my duty to deliver the special food like Biryani or chutneys or anything. My aunts and uncles and cousins adored my mother's art. Bringing groceries was another job I used to do. Well, she knew that I cannot say no to a ride on my cycle and so I would do all the little chores assigned to me. I love bicycle, whether it’s mine or my neighbor’s. And my mom cashed in on this and bought me one. And that’s when a brand-new Hero Emerald entered my life. I loved the maroon colour, I loved the touch, I loved the smell of the new plastic seat cover, I even loved the grease on the rims. It was fantabulous.

Three years went by and my cycle became a part of my personality. I no longer felt the need to listen my dad’s ramblings about exercising daily coz, well, cycling is the best exercise. Every weekend I would hit the colony roads on my cycle, racing with the little counterparts rode by kids. I would feel so refreshed and energetic and well, I would also keep my mom happy doing her chores. It was as if the two-wheeler could read my thoughts, I used to ride it so comfortably, sometimes leaving the handle and sometimes riding fast without holding the handles! But I never fell down, thanks to my cycle who understood my adventurous intentions. My cousins had abandoned their cycles but I used to keep my cycle clean and going and used to feel proud when they asked my cycle to ride.

Things were going on fine when I heard I have to shift to Hyderabad for my further studies. I was tormented. I wondered, “Wouldn’t my cycle feel lonely without me”. I was scared, even though my parents promised to take care of my cycle. “Nobody would ride it; it would be a lonesome fellow standing in a corner, aging away silently”. My mom seriously doubted whether I would start crying for my cycle. After all, it’s my best friend, my three years wonderful companion.

I came to Hyderabad leaving my cycle and to my immense surprise, saw that everybody in my campus was riding cycle! I was ecstatic. My dear cycle can come here. It can live with me. I called up my mom to arrange my cycle shifting. And thus my cycle came with me to Hyderabad. I rode it every day and night and I had my best moments on the cycle with my friends. Two years and my friends also came to know of the wonderful relationship I share with my cycle and praised me about it. Time passed and my cycle became aged and worn out. But I loved it still. No other cycle understood me better than mine. My friends too were comfortable riding it. It was such an obedient companion.

The worse day arrived when I left my cycle near the gate, at the mercy of the accursed security of the campus and somebody stole it. I was shattered. I couldn’t digest the fact. I still believed that I would have left it somewhere and I would still find it but I didn’t. Four days and every time I saw a girl riding cycle; it would remind me of my own. I would see my cycle in everyone else’s. It was hurting deep inside; it was as if my cycle was cursing me, “Why did you abandon me somewhere when I served you for five years?” I dreamt about it and I prayed to God that I would see it. And as if God heard me, Voila! I found my cycle outside my hostel, but it was looking brand new, painted, repaired. My friends asked me, “How do you know it’s yours?” I couldn’t explain them. It was the touch of the handle that was familiar, it was the look of my cycle which was so friendly, I had a goddamn five years relationship with it. How can I not recognize my own cycle? I wanted to find out who did that to my cycle but in vain. Every day I see it and go, but I can’t ride it, can’t feel it. But yet, I realised something, it taught me that when you really want something in your life, whatever may happen you would definitely get it. It also taught me that I should have asked God to own the cycle and not just see it.

When life isn’t giving you what you want, it means you’re not asking hard enough.

It was one of those halcyon days with my best friend S___ that I was mooning around on the endless stretch of the Vizag beach which was crowded with people on a Sunday evening. The azure sky held the sun but the sun was slipping down in the horizon as if to take a dip in the vast sea. I was waiting for P___ to come to the beach. We are four best friends- P___, S___, D___ and Me. We met each other in NCC and became thickest of friends.

“Why is P&D taking so long to come? I’m hungry’, I lamented. S___ teased me, “When are you not hungry huh?”

“Yeah right. Well, let’s just have a ice-cream till those guys come and then we can go to churmuriwallah and eat”

“Okay”, I said and bought two dollies for both of us. We slurped happily while waiting for our friends. Just then we spotted a small boy standing on the beach, his body painted with silver wearing a small pair of glasses, standing with a stick put forth, like Mahatma Gandhi. He had a small cloth in front of him with few coins on it.

“These poses have become quite common in the city. Everyone’s dressing up like Mahatma begging on the streets. Non-violence is on the streets now.”

I congratulated my friend for the metaphor. We observed the kid. All those who felt pity for the kid were dropping some coins in his cloth. Few others stood beside him looking at the kid as if looking at a beautiful sculpture. But the kid was looking behind at a merry go round with children playing on it. He had twinkling eyes that were full of pain and a yearning. I turned to S__, “You know, I think we...” “Should take the kid onto the merry go round”, S___ cut me, with a smile on her face. I smiled and hugged her, “So you were thinking what I was thinking”.

“Yeah, that’s why we are friends”, S___ hugged me back. We were about to go to the kid when two men approached the boy and asked, “ Do want to go on that merry go round?” and then I saw the amazed look on the kid’s face. His eyes were wide with a look of surprise and happiness, he nodded excitedly. The men took the kid to the merry go round. “Hey, how much do you charge?” they asked the owner.

“Five rupees. But I’m not taking this kid. He’ll spoil my benches with all that wet paint.”

“Oho, nothing’s going to happen to your benches which are already so clean, now, come on, take this boy onto your ride” one of the men quipped. The boy clutched his cloth of coins and his stick tightly and walked. One of the uncles took it from him. “Give them to me, I’ll hold them. You can take it back after the ride. Don’t worry, I won’t run away with them”, he joked. The boy sat on the ride and the owner pushed the round with his hands. Slowly it picked momentum and the boy was shouting excitedly. It was funny watching the young lad dressed like Mahatma Gandhi, playing on the merry-go-round. We paid for the ride and watched him as the dusk dawned with kid’s laughter ringing in the sky. The waves hit the shore forcefully as if celebrating with the boy in the silver paint. I remembered one of my friends commenting about small cities that we don’t get anything here. Well, she’s wrong. There’s still that humanity and love for one another left in these small-cities and I feel proud of it.

హమ్మాయ్య, మొత్తానికి తెలుగు లొ రాసి నా తెలుగు బ్లాగు ని మొదలుపెట్టాను లెఖిని దాట్ ఆర్గ్ పున్యమాని. ఇక ముందు తెలుగు లొ రాయడం సులువు.

ఈ శుభ సందర్భం లొ ముందుగా అందరికి విక్రుతి నామ సంవత్సర శుభాకాంక్షలు.

A 'Hiss'story

Going by the name you must have reaalised who I am. And for all those who didnt, Hi, I'm snake. No no, please don’t be scared of me, I’m already associated with so many gloomy and nasty things which I'm sick of hearing, sans the sacred association with the Lord Shiva. According to many, I’m a wild, brutal living being with the sole goal of killing other living beings but it’s for my food, that's how I survive, although I know some of my brothers on the earth exhibit their criminal nature for no reason, they are terrorist killings, just like the human terrorism.

I was happy living in my forest, living in my habitat, among my kind of people before you guys captured our lands under various crazy names called SEZs and Development Lands and what not. My home is gone now. Where am I supposed to live? Looks like my population is lot lesser than you humans’ population. If that's the case, I'll tell my brothers and sisters to be on their ‘job’ of 'helping' in maintaining a balanced state between the births and deaths. They will be too happy to do it, especially the aforementioned terrorising clan!

Well, the reason I have come out talking about all of this is because recently my brother was flashed onto those TV sets and newspapers, as you humans call it, for just coming out in public. I mean, isn't that obvious? He came out coz he needed fresh air, which, thanks to you guys, has been snatched away from us. He's harmless little kid, mooning around(or slithering around, as we would) trying to know the world. And unfortunately he got stuck in one of those flying objects called helicopter of one of the most important persons in the state of AP, the Chief Minister himself. He told me that he was just fascinated with the flying machine which he didn’t know that it could fly and he also explained how he was scared out of his wits when there were flashlights all around him, which he later realised all that hullabaloo was because he had accidentally stumbled upon the flying object.

Well, I came to know that my brother was taken to Nehru Zoological Park for scrutiny, to know from which clan he belonged to- the terrorising clan or the non-terrorising clan. Poor fellow, he doesn't even know the difference between these two. And seems that the police of the state had actually submitted a kind of document containing details of his nature and origin and what not. As if they didnt have a more productive work to attend to. But he doesn’t know that the one of the duties of the police is to do such 'productive work'. Of course they have to know where the snake came from, the oppositions would shout at each other and accuse the poor policemen for providing such an appalling security to such an important person. True, he is important. He’s a human being too. But hey, I never saw these things happening when my terrorising brothers were out in those fields of the farmers killing them, lots and lots of them. No flashlights on those brothers, nothing. They are not even bothered about. But they bothered my harmless kid.

Well, the moral of the story is- It’s not who you kill, it’s who you terrorise!

Tech-disabled
Oh god, I feel as if my hands have been dissociated from my body. I feel as if my brain has been stolen by someone. All of these and much more because I dont have my cellphone with me. Yes, I gave my cellphone for servicing! Due to some untrusted software found in the cellphone, I had to give it for servicing. "Don't worry, madam, we will update the software and format the phone and give it to you tomorrow evening, safe and sound", said the Nokia care fella when I departed my cellphone with glistening eyes. I had to call my friend and tell him that I couldn't go out to shopping with him coz, well, my phone isn't with me. What if I get lost and I cant call anyone back home? so, the plan was out. I went to a phonebooth to call him and suddenly remembered that I have forgotten his number. "Correction dear", reminded my conscience, "When did you ever remember his number? It was readily available on your phone, isnt' it?" Hmm true, I thought. What do I do now? Oh well, if he calls me and I dont respond, he'l take it that I am busy. And I caught a bus back to college. I checked my wrist, only to find that I don't have a watch to check the time. "You used to check time in your phone, isn't it", reminded my conscience again. Let's just ask someone and be done with it, I thought. I felt bored standing in the bus. As otherwise, I would have switched on my cellphone's music player and the little thing would have entertained me all the way, but now? The only things entertaining me was the rumbling sound of age-old bus engine, the crying of a baby in her mother's lap, the nonchalant chatting of two huge uncles who gave a damn to the others and went on discussing local politics. Reaching the hostel, I felt crazy coz I had to go out with my classmate for an important work and I dont remember his number. I felt sick. I found a letter waiting for me at the doorstep. I realised that it's my penfriend who replied to me. I felt so happy I wrote her back but realised that I don't have her address because it was in my phone, in the notes application. I felt so sickly dependant. I called up my mom, yes, I remembered her number and told her about my disability. She smiled and said, "Well, atleast your hands and ears and mouth would take rest for sometime, I guess, isn't it?" I realised that I simply could not do without my cellphone. It was my connection with the rest of the world, including my friends. It was the only source of entertainment, a vent to pen down my thoughts (with the notes application). For the first time, I felt jinxed. Jinxed by a demon called as technology. I felt like zombie working for the little thing called cellphone which was controlling me. I vowed to minimise the use of my cellphone. To make notes using pen and paper and not in the phone. If any of you feel the same, divert your mind to more productive things like reading, writing (using pen and paper) and remember, too much of anything is good for nothing.