Paranormal activity

Has anybody seen ghosts? There are people who say that they have heard about some unnatural incidents happening in their vicinity and credit it to be the handiwork of a ghost. Yet most of us draw a blank when asked to describe a ghost. The imaginative ones give descriptions like a ghost with sharp teeth and claws, spitting blood, or a face that is ugly and scarred beyond recognition. The more conservative ones generally like to believe that ghosts look like the ones portrayed in Hindi films- white saree, loose hair, carrying a candle and singing a melodious song. But no one knows it for sure, whether ghosts are for real or not. Still the fear remains.

This incident happened when I was in class X. Burning the midnight oil had become a norm as board exams were approaching. On one such night I heard a faint humming sound which became more distinct in a couple of minutes. I looked at the clock. It was 12 midnight. My heart skipped a beat. Ghost! That was the first thing that crossed my mind. I shut my eyes and held my hand tightly over my ears. Within minutes the humming sound had subsided, but it was enough to give me the creeps. Distracted from my study routine, I went to bed. Next day the same sound made itself heard at the same time and this continued for another two days.

By the fifth day I had gotten used to it and mustered enough courage to find out who was behind this nocturnal activity. When the humming sound began doing its rounds, my curiosity got the better of me. I tip-toed near the door and without making much noise, opened it, very little. To my surprise and horror, the sound almost immediately stopped and I could not find anyone outside. I was gripped with fear. Shutting the door quickly, I ran inside. Now I was sure that it had to be a ghost. Why else would the sound stop? I was shivering at the thought that ghosts really existed and that it had come to haunt me. Having heard from all my known sources that ghosts generally venture into human civilization at midnight, I had no reasons to dismiss this as a baseless phobia. To add more fright to my already terrified mind, my neighbour said, “Be careful. Do you know that some years back a lady staying in the opposite building was charred to death? Her stove had burst while cooking. People say that it could be she who could be going around.” That was it! I panicked. From that day on I refused to even go to the other room without anyone for company. The fear of the unknown is far greater than the fear of the known! 

Humans, for ages, not understanding why certain things happen, have attributed it to ghosts and resorted to many rituals and practices to keep them at bay. Vampires, Draculas, demons, witches, magic, and every paranormal phenomenon have been looked upon as something which exists in a world not known to us. This fear of the unknown has captured our imaginations. Every civilization has its own belief. There is voodoo practice prevalent in Africa. India has tantrik babas swearing by their wizardry to drive the ghosts away. In recent times, we have the Harry Potter and the Twilight series. They are such a hit, as they take on magic, ghosts and everything unknown, with a great aplomb, that one seriously starts wondering what if such a world really existed. But then reason starts denying it. We know that our fear is our ghost and as long as this fear exists, ghosts will exist. We do not know of any world other than this terra-ferma, but our mind still keeps imagining things. We are only muggles, after all!

Any incident beyond our comprehension becomes a ghostly act. So this humming sound became a ghostly melody. By the way, coming back to the sound I had heard years back, did I tell you that it was actually an old Nepali mountain song that our night watchman was humming, before going on his hourly rounds?

Chain reaction

"This year July has 5 Fridays 5 Saturdays and 5 Sundays. This apparently happens once every 823 years. This is called money bags. So send this on to 6 friends and money will arrive in 5 days. Based on Chinese mythology the one who does not pass this on will have money troubles for the rest of the year. It won't cost you much for that 6 text."


This is the text of an SMS; I received from a friend, who apparently seemed to have been taken in by what the message had to say. Immediately I got a call from her telling me not to break the chain and forward it to 6 people, except her. I decided to check the facts myself. Yes, the calendar showed that the month of July in the year 2011 indeed has 5 Fridays 5 Saturdays and 5 Sundays. 'Hmmm....', I thought, 'so this happens every 823 years.' So what? "Do you know that this spells luck? You could become rich," she said excitedly. Really? I'm blessed! No thanks. I don't want such riches!

But then, does a little more money hurt anyone? Of course not! Now 823 years is a long time and who knows maybe I'm the chosen one. Maybe there is a windfall in store. And imagine it is just on the finger tip! Well... no harm in sending the message. Who knows, I might just end up with some riches in 5 days flat! So I sent the SMS to 6 'fortunate' friends. Maybe, just maybe, I could now dream of something big. Like what? Like.... ummm.... ok let me get the money first. I don't want to get too big for my boots. Hehe....Moron! But what the heck! Who is going to come and peep into my dreams? My dreams are my own, isn't it?

But the question now popped up - How is the money going to arrive? Ummmm... let's see. Maybe a lottery is the solution. In came a bundle of lotteries of different sizes and varying prize money. I hid them under the bed, lest anyone sees it. See... if I hit the jackpot, I'll announce it proudly. If not I need not tell anyone about it, and throw it out, quietly. In fact, the door bell now did not irritate me, as it used to before, inviting suspicious glances from family members. What? Can't a person be in a cheerful mood, for a change? Never mind them! Secretly, I was expecting a will from a distant departed relative, bequeathing to me, a large fortune. I also thought about digging up the open patch in front of my house. Ok, ok, I know that it is too much of an inconceivable idea.

Now, I actually began to look forward to gaining wealth. In fact the suspense was beginning to kill me. I could not wait for the 5 days to pass. But what if.... I don't get anything? It is ok. I just tried my luck! I am not losing anything. Anyway, the stipulated time passed and nothing happened. I checked and rechecked the papers for my lucky number. 'NO LUCK', screamed back the paper. And neither did the expected will arrive. What heartbreak! All my dreams were shattered to smithereens! 'Control yourself', I told myself sternly. 'You did not believe in this hocus-pocus, initially, right? Now throw those goddamn tickets, before you make a fool of yourself.' I just did that. I knew it! It is the handy work of those crooked mobile service providers. They must have triggered this chain reaction to earn good money. "How could I have fallen for this?" I thought loudly. Shhhh.... not so loud. Someone might hear this!

Peace interrupted

Imagine there's no countries

It isn't hard to do

Nothing to kill or die for

And no religion too 

Imagine all the people 

Living life in peace 

You may say that I'm a dreamer

But I'm not the only one 

I hope someday you'll join us

And the world will be as one

I can't get the lyrics of John Lennon's song 'Imagine' out of my head. Beautiful song. Catchy tune. Yes as long as it is a song, we can enjoy it. But can we really imagine such a world? A world without boundaries or religion? A world where life does not come cheap? A world where there are no fights and hence no killings? A world where only peace prevails? Very difficult, considering the fact that even though man is a rational animal but more often than not acts out of instinct than out of reason. How else can one explain the wars fought in the past, the atrocities meted out by one on another on the basis of beliefs and the loss of human lives due to bigotry?

Does Lenon's song ring the bell? Isn't it an echo of the thought 'Vasudaiva Kutumbakam' (the world is but one family) found in the Hitopadesha, the Panchatantra and the Mahopanishad? The Cynics and the Stoics of ancient Greece too propagated the idea of cosmopolitanism. Socrates had famously said "I am not a Greek or an Athenian, but I am a citizen of the world." Yet if we look into the history of mankind, we find it ridden with wars, killings, oppression, either due to religious dogmas, borders defining territories, hatred towards a race or simply to prove ones' supremacy. We have clear cut demarcation of ours, mine and yours.

There is chaos prevailing everywhere and in this melee where does peace stand? Has mankind ever given peace a chance? Every era has been a witness to some insurgency or upheaval which has sometimes lasted for generations. The end of every violent act brings with it a hope of a new dawn, only to be brutally cut short by another act of aggression. Thus we can find Ram Rajya only in the mythology. We can only live 'Ram bharose'. This is what the persistent terror strikes in Mumbai have to teach. The day we run out of luck, we could be the next target. The fighting spirit of Mumbai sounds too cliched. People have no option but to go to work. Over the years people have become too used to such attacks. Life just goes on. They say time is the best healer and as time passes, everything just becomes a blur.

The question then remains, 'Are we anywhere close to 'Vasudaiva Kutumbakam' or to being a world citizen?' The answer is a resounding 'NO'. Actually its sound has a good resonance to it, hence it is used by orators while giving a pep talk and the word peace is a fantastic topic for the wide eyed school kids' projects or seminars. In reality it might take eons for it to materialize, and that too is highly skeptical. There is some disturbance, hostility, aggression in every part of the world. Mankind needs to go into an introspection mode which seems highly unlikely in the near future.  Till that time we can keep wondering what this peace talk or being a world citizen all about is and enjoy Lenon's song for its sheer beauty.

Retail Therapy

The wet spell had stopped for the time being and the roads were soon getting dried up. After two days of  incessant rain and dull weather, the life giving sun chose to show its cheerful face to the earth that had been bearing the brunt of the rain god's wrath. But it did nothing to lift up my mood that was as gloomy as the dark clouds.

Suggestions started pouring in from all quarters - ranging from watching a film, joining a cookery class or eating out. Nah!  I didn't seem to be interested in them at all, when a dear friend suggested me to do some shopping. "Retail therapy", she declared proudly. "Psychologists vouch for it. It is the best mood up lifter. Why not just try it. You won't lose anything." Hmmm.... Interesting! I quickly jumped to the idea of the 'retail therapy'. Armed with cash and the indispensable credit card, we trotted to the nearby mall. Yes, I'm already feeling better... and this is just the beginning!

Our first stop was the garment store. The waif thin mannequins had some lovely clothes on and I wanted to buy the ones that had dressed up the figures. 'Wait', said my inner voice 'it won't suit you. And it is not worth the money'. I brushed the voice aside. It has this bad habit of interfering when least needed. So I picked up a couple of dresses and really felt like a queen as the staff had been excessively cordial to me. After all, the customer is the king.....er queen.... whatever! Our next destination was the shoe store. I drooled over some lovely pairs and picked up three beautiful ones, something that I had never done before in my life. 'You don't need so many', the voice protested. 'Aw.. shut up!'.  Three pairs at one go!  Wow! My morale had reached its zenith and how! And then how can we just leave out the bag section? I zeroed in on two good looking ones. I was pleasantly surprised not to hear any voice this time. I was filled with optimism. Life is beautiful and I wasted some precious moments in a sombre mood. Well....I more than made up for it, didn't I?

Weary but happy after the acquisitions, I thanked my friend profusely for her idea. Once home, I wanted to try out everything that I had bought. Out came the blue dress. Yuck! It had a gaudy colour and big designs to the boot. It had looked so pretty in the store. How can my eyes deceive me? I kept that aside and chose to try the yellow one. 'My God', I thought,  'I wouldn't dare to wear this monstrosity.' I looked hideous! Two more to go.. the pink and the black ones. The kids screwed up their noses, "Are you really going to wear this? Then not today, please. Our friends are coming." What did it mean, eh? I realized that the heels of shoes were a tad too high. My heel problem would not really allow me to keep them on for long. How come it did not dawn on me while buying? And the bags.... oh my gosh! It looked as though I had pinched it from a struggling star out to make a statement. I realized I got carried away too far.

After spending so much I could put a single buy to my use. I straightaway called up the friend, "What! You want to return them? No way! They will not take anything back. You brought everything from the sale. Didn't you read the board - No refund. No exchange", she said with a voice of a seasoned buyer, who was wise enough to only accompany me. "I'll sue them. I've paid for it", I said in a trembling voice. But I knew that I could not do anything of that sort. The only choice I had was to gift them away. I was distraught. I wished I had listened to the voice. And it was back to square one for me. In fact the mood became gloomier than before. It had reached its nadir.

Now I'm pondering over the idea of writing a book. The title would be "How to deal with life after a retail therapy".

The 'Serial' killer

"Where is the remote?" asked my friend's harried mother, "I don't want to miss the 11 o'clock serial". This, on a fine morning when my friend and I had decided to relax with a reality show, after a long time, was most unwelcome. "But amma", protested my friend, "it is a repeat telecast of what you saw yesterday." Amma turned a deaf ear to her protest call and smugly settled down on the sofa. Since we had nothing else to do, we decided to watch this one serial.

"Daily soaps make no sense to me and I always avoid watching them", said my friend, making a wry face. "It's so easy to get addicted to mindless and meaningless stuff in life. I am of the opinion that they never portray the real lives of people. The characters mouth dialogues that could make a sane person cringe in disgust. What I never understood was how could a villager possibly get hold of designer wear, jewellery and flaunt neatly ironed tresses. The good and the bad characters are clearly cut and dried. There are no shades of grey! The scheming men and women have a ball while the ever suffering ones do no wrong. They always suffer quietly and their heart is big enough to forgive even the most wicked ones!" said the agitated friend. Yeah, how true, I thought. Yet I was not able to let go off the remote after 9 pm.

"Tamil serials take the quest of conniving and vengeance to a new level so much so that there is a constant hostility and rivalry oozing from the word go", she continued with a passionate fervour that would put the grandest orator to shame. "The characters hardly ever smile, leave alone laugh, as though they know instinctively that laughing would  attract some evil news. Women are constantly at each other's throats, screaming revenge, for some reason that is actually forgotten. The makers, it seems, are fascinated by the 'other woman' syndrome, as they seem to make their presence felt everywhere to create havoc in others' lives.  The vamps get to wear the best clothes, best jewellery and also manage to steal the man from under the wife's nose. Whereas the good wife just becomes a mop of the house, even as she stays put with a gritty determination to win back the philandering husband! The nerves are made of steel!"

Phew!!! That was some speech, I thought. "Tell me, do you watch these nonsensical stuff?" she asked with fire in her eyes. "Me - nah! I don't think I'll be able to handle all those emotions", I said playing along with the mood of the moment.

"Emotions! There is only one emotion and that is of bitterness. See how they depict mothers? The not so well off are more often than not portrayed as this chest beating types, crying at the drop of the hat. The saree pallu comes in handy to wipe off the teary face. The rich ones do not have anything productive to do in life and their entire existence seems to be revolving in plotting murder or revenge. What a waste of resources! And the protagonist waits patiently for her moment of retribution, which comes in the form of divine justice." Okay, okay. Enough for today - I wanted to say, but could not gather enough courage. Amma and I quietly exchanged glances.

"Amma, do you know where audience like you fit in? You are left to face the retarded stuff and you enjoy lapping them up. They make so much money and what do you get in return? I think the audience should be paid as well", she said calming down a bit. I thought the storm had died. But the climax was yet to come.   "And when the going gets tough, the makers spice it up with a rebirth, plastic surgery, fourth or fifth marriage, ghostly encounters, death etc. I'm sure children will now start complaining that the serials are corrupting their parents!"

After I returned home, I thought about her speech. Yes, I actually need to introspect whenever I get time. But as of now, it's time for the 9 O'clock serial to begin. The mother in law has just devised a new plan to ensnare the 2nd wife of her step-son...

Dear Diary....

'Grrrr......', I know this is what you would say, if you were present in flesh and blood. But then I know that you are not and hence I have this audacity to take advantage of your quiet existence. I know that I had to dust you off from the pile of old books and also know that I remember you only when I want to share something with you. In spite of this callous attitude, I know that you will not complain. I know that my secrets, deepest desires, happiness and sadness, my regrets and disappointments are kept buried in your bosom. You are my punching bag and every time I take a look at you, it is not without a purpose.

You know Diary, as kid, I always thought that Aladdin's magic lamp existed, and I wanted to get hold of it to fulfil  my wishes. I imagined having the genie at my beck and call. Only I did not know where to search for it. I  wished  that I got the pot of gold whenever I saw a rainbow. I wished to see the chocolate house in which Hansel and Gretel were locked. I wished to meet Cinderella and Snow White and the seven Dwarfs. I wished to be the most intelligent student and be famous when I grew up. I wished that I could sit on the clouds and see the world from above. And when I used to see patterns on the sky made by these clouds I wished I could catch those fluffy cottons and take them home. I wished I were a bird and fly up in the sky, free, unbridled. I wished I had this magic brush with which I could paint the sky. I wished I could spin webs like Spider man and reach places easily. I wished I was a cuckoo and sing the whole day long. I wished to go to the moon.

But then I grew up, and I dismissed all those wishes as juvenile outbursts that held no water in real life. And I realized that the magic lamp was only a myth. The land of cotton candy vapourized into thin air and now I feel that my wishes have become more real. I wish I had more money to buy more comforts in life. I wish there were no worries to tackle with. I wish there was lesser noise everywhere. I wish the trains and buses were not so crowded. I wish the weekend had two Sundays. I wish that I can mend broken relationships, iron out the misunderstandings that drive a wedge in it. I wish humans had lesser egos, so that life becomes much easier. I wish greed takes a backseat; I wish anger is toned down. I wish people understand each other better......... and yes, I wish the magic lamp really existed.

But why do I have this strange feeling of being snubbed again....? OK OK, I know I've gotten too philosophical today and before you spring to life, I might as well shut you and keep you in the secluded corner, hoping that if not all, at least some of the wishes get fulfilled.

Yours truly,

Wish not, want not

Rambo

He had a smooth skin... light brown in colour, deep penetrating eyes and a swift and agile body. He was not very tall, and not exactly handsome, yet he had this inherent capacity to attract anyone who came in contact with him. Vying for his attention was our favourite past time, which he reciprocated magnanimously. He was fiercely protective of us and disliked any intruder who happened to try and take away his moment of.... well, bliss. For the uninitiated, he was a street dog named Rambo.

Rambo was christened........Rambo by the people of our building, who took it as their responsibility to look after him after he was found as an abandoned puppy on a rainy weather, shivering under a big mango tree inside the  compound. He was this adorable little thing who was separated from his mother, for some reason, which we knew we would never able to find out. Nevertheless, all were happy to have him. We used to take delight in bringing biscuits or some leftovers to feed him and see him gobble up the delicacies. He always seemed hungry and never refused any food. He used to enjoy all the attention showered on him and seemed very happy frolicking about with us. But I had always noticed a tinge of sadness in his eyes. They always seemed to be searching for something....his mother? Siblings? We'll never know. 

Rambo never had a home of his own. He used to make himself comfortable wherever he found a cosy place, whether in the building corridor, or near the electric box, or under a tree. He used to follow us wherever we went and we had to shoo him many a time, lest he discovered our secret places and showed it to our enemies. Of course, we too had enemies, with whom we fought and refused to play!  Time flew by and Rambo became er.... a dog. We had become accustomed to his presence and used to wonder how he managed to look clean. No one ever gave him a bath! He still considered our building compound to be his home and even if he was not to be found the whole day, he would dutifully return to his home in the night. We all slept peacefully, knowing fully well that he would bark down the guts of anyone who dared to sneak past his vigil. Rambo had made a place in everyone's heart. Or so it seemed!

One fine morning, we heard a shrill whining sound and recognized it to be that of Rambo. A small crowd had gathered and I too ran down to see what the commotion was all about. What I saw was unbelievable! Someone had poured boiling water on Rambo's body scalding his back to the extent that the red flesh under his brown coat was visible. He was understandably in pain and even though people gauged who the culprit was, no one said anything. After all, it was only a dog and not a human being, right? Human life is precious and who cares for a dog's life! The elders then put some turmeric on the wound and busied themselves for the day's work, strictly forbidding us not to go near him, lest we catch some infection from the wound. Rambo slowly retreated to his favourite corner. As days passed and the wound did not seem to be healing, they shooed Rambo away from the building. There was this huge open ground right in front and Rambo made  this ground, his home. He used to eat if someone fed him or go hungry as he was too weak to go in search of food. 

After some days, we heard that Rambo had passed away and the municipal van would soon come to pick up his lifeless body. To this day, when I see a street dog with a wound, I am immediately reminded of Rambo, who lived with us and served us, but died a....well......dog's death.