Under the Cool Blue Sky

Who am I?

The Greener Grass

The Mercedes pulled up in front of the Petrol Bunk. A few cars were already in line. The chauffeur stepped out of the car. The man in the car closed his laptop for a brief moment. He did not remove his sunglasses. These days, he was never seen without his shades. What was initially a fashion statement had now become a necessity for him. His eyes now stung him whenever he was out in the sun. Needless to say, he was never out in the sun much, unless when it was a Business trip to some resort. Funny thing to have Business outings in tourist spots when you don’t really look forward to tourism. He could still remember his early career when he looked forward to such trips. What he couldn’t remember was when he had started hating the trips. He now hated his life. He had a perfect wife and son, yet it was ages since he had really had an open conversation. He knew that they loved him. But, he didn’t know for how long they would. His son was already starting to think of his own life and his wife seemed content with her retired lifestyle. But he longed for more. Just when his life seemed at the brink of perfection, he yearned for something more. The only problem, he didn’t know what he wanted.

As he was thinking these thoughts, he looked through his car window. He saw a bunch of boys playing cricket. He saw exhaustion, anger, jealousy, determination, and even a hint of wickedness in them. These boys did not care about the sun, dirt, sweat or even the insults which they dished out at will. They were in a world of their own and he was looking in. One of the boys looked towards him. He saw the eyes of the boy – arrogant and scornful. He knew that this was how he had been in his youth. This was the man who had fought his way to the top. This was what he wanted to be.

The boy who looked at him – he was thirsty, hot, grimy and was waiting for a catch to come his way. He was enjoying the game – he’d never miss cricket for anything. It didn’t matter that he fought constantly with his friends on the field. A cool drink after the game would settle all the issues. From the corner of his eyes, he watched the Mercedes pull up. He had always dreamed of riding in one with a chauffeur. He couldn’t see the guy in the car. But he knew that he wanted to be like him – settled in life with no more worries about his future. He wanted a nice car, a nice house, nice girls, lots of money and a son who’d listen to him..Yes, he even thought of a son, when he was barely 14 years old. He felt jealous of the man in the car, who had no more need of toiling under the sun. The thing that really pissed him off was that even the chauffeur appeared better than all the adults he had seen in his area. He was definitely going to ride in a Mercedes one day..with a chauffeur too. Hold on, the ball’s came his way. He dived, scraped his already bleeding elbow and held on to the ball. Woo Hoo, he had just made an excellent catch. He didn’t hear the batsman spouting obscenities. He could only hear the cheers of his team. As, he looked up, he saw the chauffeur return back into the car.

In Pursuit…

Seeing, yet not seeing
I reach for beauty
In illusions unseen..

Knowing, yet not understanding
I search for knowledge
In literature unread..

Smiling, yet not smiling
I yearn for humour
In laughter unheard..

Unremembered, yet not forgotten
I desire for innocence
In days gone by..

Thinking, yet not believing
I seek for wisdom
In places unknown..

In pursuit of Happiness
Within, yet Without !!

In Desperate Need !!

When is the last time you yearned for something desperately ? So desperately that you feel your life is not complete without it. A yearning that cannot be satisfied by anything else. A yearning which is of absolutely no tangible use and in fact might make you go crazy. Something that makes you jealous, passionate and even prompts you to write a blog about it. Oh ! I wouldn’t want my worst enemy to suffer this angst. All for just an ice cream ! I need you at midnight, at waking hours, at all times ! I know I’ll get you. But it’s the wait which makes me crazy. Damn, it’s 1.30AM now. How much longer to go ??

The Mask of Mortals

Born with the face of Gods
Alas, I knew this not when I was born.
The faces of mortals appeared heavenly
Mimicking them, I wore a mask.
The world liked my mask so much,
That I made masks for every occasion.
Neither joy nor sorrow did the world see in me,
All they saw was what I wanted them to see.
But all costume parties are good,
Only when you know the end This charade has its price to pay,
And the price of society is,
Being alone in the crowd.

I seeked for someone
To whom I can show my true form.
And I did find an angelic lass.
Alas, I was now a fallen angel.
Instead of clearing my conscience,
I caught an angel, wearing sheep’s fur.
At the peak of triumph,
Yet desperate for salvation,
I tried in haste to throw my masks away.
Alas, it was too little too late.
My angel knew me by my masks,
And to my horror, I did not know,
What I truly looked like.

Was I always the devil?
Or could I have been an angel?
Maybe this is what they call,
The fall of angels.

Flash of Light

Sudeep was walking along the road with a spring in his step. After all, he was just a week away from marrying the girl of his dreams. To add to his joy, he had just met up with an old college pal after a long time. He was in one of his rare good moods. His bike had broken down on him for no particular reason. It was the middle of the night. And he was walking alone on a dark road. But he was too happy to care about such trivial things. The girl of his dreams was just perfect, as all dream girls are. She was beautiful, a bit goofy and very fun to talk with. Sudeep felt that nothing could shatter his bliss.

BANG !!

Sudeep felt a stinging pain through his left thigh. He could feel blood pouring out. With the utmost effort, he turned towards the source of the agonizing sound. No sooner had he turned, he saw a flash of light. What he saw in the single flash of light was more devastating than the bullet which pierced his right thigh. His legs gave way as he fell to his knees. Just as the final flash of light took his life away, he was torn with confusion. This was all wrong. There was something wrong with this. Why would she kill him ? Why would his bride kill him a week before their wedding ? Unfortunately, he had no more time to think. Thought gave way to pain. His mind was filled with pain. In a few seconds, he was dead. Till the end, he had no answer to his death.

5 years ago

Dhanush, he was the oddball which you see in all colleges. He was a loner. A Math genius. He knew flawless English grammar, but he couldn’t speak English to save his life. He hated engineering college. He hated the city life. He was a rustic lad, whose dad’s only dream had been to get him out of that miserable village. But now, he regretted being in this college. He stuck out like a sore thumb. He was not sure if he could find a job with his broken speech. The city guys had mud in their brains, but they had honey in their lips. They got the girls, the money and friends. He didn’t care about the girls or the friends, but he did care about the money. Dhanush was afraid for the first time in his life.

But in his third year of college, he had a stroke of luck. And its name was Sonia. She was his first real friend. At first, she felt sorry for him and also, used to learn from him. Then she started to teach him. She taught him English and he ended up learning a lot more than that. His English improved a bit, but his heart softened a lot. He was falling in love. Before he knew it, Sonia occupied his every thought. With time, he came to know that Sonia’s thoughts were filled with someone else. Sonia was in love with Sudeep. And it appeared like Sudeep also cared for her. Sudeep also became Dhanush’s friend because of Sonia. Dhanush was in a dilemma, whether to leave Sonia or not. But Sudeep had no such issues. He dumped Sonia for a reason which Dhanush could not comprehend. He never could understand the reasoning of the urban people anyway.

Sonia was not the normal type of girl. Else, she wouldn’t have pitied Dhanush. Or been serious about Sudeep. She was too kind and ironically, too gullible. She took her life for the sake of a lost love. Dhanush was blinded by his love and could not see the stupidity of Sonia’s actions. Obsessive love was a feeling he shared with Sonia. He swore revenge for Sonia’s death.

Present

The killer looked at Sudeep’s corpse. The killer felt no elation, just relief that it was over. The killer threw a cheap paper mask and wig on the floor. The paper mask had the face of Sudeep’s bride printed on it, just like one of those Sachin Tendulkar masks. The mask could not fool anyone who looked straight at it. But it was enough to fool a man in a flash of light. From the shocked expression frozen on Sudeep’s lifeless face, it was evident that the gamble had worked. He had died like Sonia, killed by his love.

Dhanush had covered his tracks well. He was actually supposed to be in a different city at the moment. He had chosen his murder spot with care. His gun was untraceable. No one knew that he was the one who had bumped accidentally into Sudeep and invited him for drinks. No one would figure out that he was the one who had tampered with Sudeep’s bike. No one could find out that he was the one who had called Sudeep after his bike broke down. No one would suspect a nobody like him doing a murder. And no one knew of his love for Sonia.

True Love

In the merry month of spring,
As with all young sprouts, I think,
This is love.

This exhilaration when I see her,
The longing when I’m without her,
Her bright eyes, priceless smile,
Face of a goddess and windswept hair,
A bosom men dream of,
And curves I would die for,
She was my vision of perfection.
An angel who was by my side.
This is love.

So delicate, that it was a joy to watch her,
So fragile, that it scared me to hold her,
And so cruel, when I had to leave her.
I said something, and she said something,
And in those meaningless words,
She found reason to live without me.
Love gone sour is bitter,
It is man’s first brush with death.
This is love.

Time is the best medicine they say,
And true, my wounds healed in many days.
Once bitten, twice shy,
I steered clear of all snakes.
I now lived life not for myself,
But for those who still believed in me,
My dear parents – who I now saw more clearly.
They gave without asking,
This is love.

I started seeing the world differently,
I now knew that I was as much to blame,
As her – for I thought only of myself,
Even when I was thinking about her.
I was ready to start a new life.
I agreed to an idea which,
I would once have scoffed upon,
Marrying a girl, who I barely knew.
Is this love ?

I felt sorry for the girl,
Who didn’t know me as much,
As I didn’t know her.
As I spent more time with her,
I knew of her charms and flaws,
I grew to love her in a different way.
I fell for her charms and accepted her flaws,
I accepted her as she was and I finally knew,
Acceptance is love.

A Killer

“Good evening, my dear friends. Rather than start off with pleasantries, I’ll get straight to the agenda of our discussion – we are here today to see a glimpse into the mind of a killer. Not the ones who do it out of compulsion, for money, for revenge or for any conceivable reason. Gentlemen, we are talking about people who kill for pleasure, without the slightest remorse. The minds of these men are abominable at first glance. We, being men of higher intellect, we are driven by curiosity; and the deeper we delve into the depths of these minds, the more fascinating it becomes. The evidence of this can be seen in plain sight – Hollywood. We have been fascinated by the psyches of these psychos for, well, as long as I can remember. Ha, even I came into this field impressed by one of those darn flicks. Well, jokes apart, we’re not talking about a laughing matter. We’re seeing more and more cases of violence in this country. Serial killers, rapists – their numbers have been increasing every month. And more frightening is the method in the madness which we’re seeing. Let’s not forget that the technology which we’re using has developed by leaps and bounds. Despite vast improvements in the field of forensics, we’re still finding it harder and harder to find our killers. Why is this you ask? This is because the killers are getting smarter and smarter.

Let me enlighten you on the differences between the killer and the common murderer. Most of the murders, say 90% of them, are done by thugs or by common people for a multitude of reasons. They do not derive pleasure out of it and if given a choice, they would rather not have killed. These are normal men and gentlemen, any of you could have acted in the same way if you were in their shoes. Now, the man who kills without remorse and in some cases, actually enjoys killing… he is dangerous. These men have all the qualifications to lead a normal life and in most cases, they are or could have been quite successful persons. Now, I’m talking about men who have killed more than 5 people without being caught. They are smart. In most cases, they have a pleasant social life and like most us assembled here, they show the trait of superiority. In society, they usually act like adults towards children – like they know something the others don’t know. In reality, these men are like us – intellectuals – until they’re caught.

Now, if you gentlemen will pardon me, let me share my knowledge of psychology. Although classifying people is equivalent to philosophical blasphemy, I’d still venture to do so because our killers are quite unique persons. There are two kinds of people. The first kind, people who don’t actively seek for knowledge. Their knowledge of good and evil is an amalgamation of the general beliefs in society. This is typically Peter Keating. Forgive me for using Ayn Rand in such a discussion. The second kind, people who actively seek for knowledge and by their own efforts, they form their own beliefs. These people are doubters and do not accept anything at face value. The second group of people form a minority of the human population. And true to Pareto, they shape the lives of the majority of the population. These people are the intellectuals. They have a choice – to be good or to be evil. Now, let me make that clear once more. They do have a choice. The intellectuals who choose good have become the pillars of human civilization. Like Howard Roark. The ones who choose evil are the smart killers we see. And this is the character we are interested in – Ellsworth Toohey.

Ayn Rand might be right or wrong. but her distinctive characters just made it easier for me to explain. Like Ellsworth Toohey, our killer is a person who is as knowledgeable as this assembled audience, who is fully aware of his actions and their impacts, one who experiments with human life. He is the definition of evil. In 9 out of 10 cases, these killers are caught not because of emotional mistakes, but rather because of high handed carelessness. To be frank, I have no solution to catch these killers, apart from cracking their logic. And the smarter they get, the harder it becomes. If these killers are so tough to catch, then what is the point of talking about them ?

Well, gentlemen, as a policemen, I just wanted this opportunity to let you know the little information which I’ve assimilated about their behavior. However, I have identified an odd behavior among the killers I’ve been discussing. They are generally very selfish and care little about the society. But what if they had targeted like-minded intellectuals ? For some odd reason, they never take the trouble to do so, even when they know that the so-called intellectuals are in fact the bane of society. Even, without being killers, these people manipulate the country to their own benefit. That’s why I’ve gathered you fine gentlemen here. Well, by now you must have guessed it. You must all be feeling giddy about now. Feeling like a hand is tightening around your heart and you can hardly breathe. Oh, don’t bother guessing how I poisoned you or how I’d escape from this. That’s not the point. The point is that, you are the true evil of the society. And I don’t mean to hide myself in a cloak of justice. I am also evil. I chose the path of evil. Over my entire career, I’ve seen simple people turn into murderers because of people like you. Anyway, I don’t think you can listen to me anymore. It’s been a pleasure talking to you. Goodbye gentlemen.”

Silence of the Lamb

He hated his life,
A dull job which paid less,
A wife who cared less,
A son for whom he cared less.

The root of his sorrow,
Lay with his loved wife,
Loved once by him, now by another,
Or so he thought.

Ridden with inferiority,
And maddened with suspicion,
He finally took the plunge,
Of the dagger into her heart.

He slashed, he hacked,
He knew not what he did,
Till he had carved every inch,
Till she was but a chunk of flesh.

He cleaned the gory scene,
And waited for his son,
Bad wife or not,
A good mother she was.

The son came and went,
He spoke not a word,
In all his waking hours,
He asked not for her.

He remained silent,
For a day, then a week,
Till the madman could take no more,
“Would you not like to see your mother?”, he asked.

“But I do see her everyday,
Standing right next to you !!”

His and Her Circumstances

She was the campus queen
He was the heartthrob

She was cultured
He was well-mannered

She was second in the class
He was the first

She hid behind a mask of perfection
He did not know yet his real face

She protected her true self from failure
He sacrificed his real self for success

She was a fake
He seemed the real thing

She hated him in private
He confessed his love in public

She refused him
He refused to give up

She showed her real face accidentally
He was more amazed than shocked

She feared for her image
He used his chance to get closer

She made her first true friend
He saw the beauty within her

She shed her masks because of him
He discovered himself because of her

She showed the world her real laugh
He discovered that he could laugh

She realized that she loved him
He realized that his past love was an illusion

This was true love
A journey of self-discovery
Through the eyes of another

–Inspired by “Kare Kano”