Who needs drugs?

I request you not to read any further if you are too scared to stare reality in the eye, call me a fool and believe what they tell you to. But if you to choose to read it, do it with an open mind, forget all boundaries, forget the rules, those rules of physics they taught you in school. Because this was as close to reality as I could ever get, a part of me said it was rubbish but I couldn’t just turn it down as I knew deep down that it was what they call ‘The TRUTH’.

 
It was 11 in the night and I was desperately tying to type on my computer, everyone had left for home, it was just me in the huge building except the watchman and a coffee machine that stood there in solace. “Come with something stirring Luv Kalla, something that will spread like wild fire.” were the words of my creative director when he left the office. Writer’s block as they call it or is it just the selfish laziness of my mind, I knew if I couldn’t write some good headline I would be fired. But my mind wasn’t ready to accept it, 6 cups of coffee, a pack of navy cuts and a book which said on the cover “How to write amazing ads in 5 minutes” had failed me. I forced my mind to think, to think how am I going to sell a rooftop dinner on valentines. I tried and slogged for an hour and then did what I had to, I shut down the computer and asked for a taxi to drop me home. That moment I hated myself, I said to myself that I’m the most incompetent bastard on the face of this earth. With a heavy heart and a bag full of ideas that belonged to the wastebasket I sat in the taxi. As I passed a coffee shop, I had an unnatural urge of grabbing another coffee and asked the driver to leave me there. I felt one more cup of espresso would kill me, but I wasn’t gonna live another day anyways I thought. So there it was a cup full of black liquid lying in front of me and the speakers belted some bjork music which was beyond my understanding and liking. I stood up and changed the song to ‘comfortably numb’.

I strained myself again and wrote on a piece of paper ‘this valentine…’ and stared it for ten minutes, picked it, crumbled it and tossed it in the bin again. I asked for the bill, paid all the little money I had and started to walk back home.

Suddenly a hand grabbed me by my shoulder as I turned in disgust I saw the image of an old man. The first thing I noticed about him was his sea blue eyes and his unusual dressing sense.  He was dressed in a tuxedo, a torn tuxedo no matter but a fine one it was. A youthful voice said “Dude can you please help me out?” I couldn’t help but smile at the irony of these words. Wasn’t I who needed all the help in the world at this moment? I asked myself. “I’ll try to sir, but how?”  the words made way through my throat. “Can you give me some of your time?” he asked with shame in his eyes. I couldn’t say no and I didn’t have a reason to, because I knew I was gonna loose my job tomorrow morning anyways when my creative director knows that all I could write all night was ‘Roof top dinner on valentines’. So I said “sure sir”, “don’t call me that please” he said and gestured for a hand shake. “Luv Kalla” I said as we shook hands and sat on the chair again. “I have a little story for you, if you can take it, but a request, don’t ask me any questions, if at any time you don’t believe me you can walk away.” Fair deal I thought and with my approval he began.

“I was 25 when I left India, for Oxford University as a student of American literature. My parents were rich and I stood up to their expectations. With weak knees and pride, I landed in London”. I joined the university and aspired to be a big writer someday. It was my birthday the next day and as I blew the candles, I closed my eyes and made a wish. I slept after the small ceremony because I knew there were a lot of sleepless nights in store for me.

 I started my first novel in the dormitories of the oxford. I shared my story as I wrote it and the people melted on hearing it, “it will be a book that will bring renaissance once again” said my professor. So I wrote it, with the muse running in my veins, I lost track of day and night, food and water. I survived on mere words and dreams. ‘It will bring renaissance once again Aditya, It will bring renaissance’ the words echoed in my mind. No sooner did I complete my book then it went in the press, and I saw it. I saw my dreams coming to life, the book sold a million copies in a month, I was in the papers, I was on the television I was everywhere. My parents were ecstatic at my success and I returned home in glory with a nomination in the bookers.

“It’s time you get married” said my mom, “you know the Indian mothers” he asked me paying attention to my presence for the first time since he began his fairytale. And without pausing for a response he started again. “I married a beautiful Spanish girl, it was a hindu ceremony”. We bought a home in the outskirts of Birmingham, where I started working on my next book, there was little left to achieve by the next book but a lot to stand up to.”

“I continued living a dream life. When I woke up the maid got me the papers and a king’s breakfast, I lazed till the afternoon, wrote a little and then spent the evening with Jeniffer, my wife. Time flew. It was my 29^th birthday, and the party went on till early morning. “

“When I woke up the next day, I felt unusual like you do when you sleep in the day and wake up at two in the night wondering where did all the time go. I looked for a switch to turn on the lights and it wasn’t there. It’s scary when you know a place so well and something changes. But I thought it was just the absurdity of time and the effect of whiskey. I finally found the light and as I lit up the room, I was taken aback. I found myself in a small stinky room, I couldn’t remember when and how did I get there. The panic started to set in as I couldn’t find anyone there.”

“I opened the archaic wooden door and made my way out, to my surprise it was the dormitory of Oxford, and in less than a second all my life flashed in front of my eyes. I realized the small stinky room was the place where I started my dream. The panic disappeared as I thought it was a surprise gift from my friends to refresh my old days. I stayed there for the night and in the morning started for home. I found it strange how no one on the campus could recognize me and saw straight through me. But I don’t think about such stuff a lot. I got on the bus that would take me home, a woman in the seat beside me smiled and I thought she would ask for my autograph, but she was too shy.“

“The bus stopped and I started walking towards the next lane where my beautiful little home was. As I walked I had a feeling that a lot had changed, it was just because I didn’t get out a lot lately. As I took a right turn for my home, what I saw I couldn’t believe. It wasn’t there. My home wasn’t there. Nothing was there, it was a barren land. I couldn’t have been wrong it was there yesterday night, where is everyone? Cold sweat broke out on my brow as I denied what I saw. “No! No! It’s not possible” I said to myself. For a moment I couldn’t breathe, it wasn’t possible. It was a nightmare I thought and soon I will wake up beside Jeniffer, I-2, 326. That’s my home. “

“I didn’t wake up, it was too real to be true, a nightmare from which I couldn’t run away. I made my way to the market. I rushed in a coffee shop and went straight ahead in the toilet neglecting everyone who was staring at me. I washed my face and when I looked up in the mirror my mind went blank. I had no words, no feelings, everything turned to stone.

It was a nightmare now I was sure, in the mirror I saw a face that you’re seeing right now Luv, and it’s a face of a 29 year old writer Aditya Mehra.

I have no proof but you have to believe me. I just made a wish and it came true”.

I didn’t know what to say, I didn’t believe that old man he was crazy, and I had read in the papers that Aditya Mehra the writer of ‘when dawn breaks’ had died in a crash with his family. I knew I couldn’t take any more of his fairytale I looked up and was about to say something but I couldn’t, I just couldn’t make the words come out and I stared blankly at him. The lines on his face were grave, not fine anymore but broad and grave, but when my eyes met his, nothing mattered. I just couldn’t look away, those sea blue eyes scared me, but they were magnetic, they pulled me they told me what I didn’t want to believe. 

I stood up in haste and ran, ran as if there was no tomorrow, because I knew there was truth in his eyes and no words can tell the truth spoken by a man’s eyes. “Can you give me some of your time Luv, can you give me your time? Can you? ” I heard the youthful screams as I ran, I didn’t run out of breath till I reached home and put on all the 3 locks of the door. ‘It wasn’t real, I said to myself, it wasn’t” I said to myself. As I opened my fists a paper dropped from my hand.

‘Care for what you wish it just might come true!’ Aditya Mehra

I wouldn’t have believed him if it wasn’t the look in his eyes, he might just be another impostor trying for the money and fame, but what sort of impostor? How can you expect the world to believe in your story, a man aging 30 years in a night? How can you expect people to believe it, unless it is the truth ofcourse. Oh rubbish I said to myself, he was just an impostor. I was still trembling as I lit a cigarette, it was impossible I repeated. I took the morning paper and saw the face of Aditya Mehra, no it wasn’t him, but he had the same eyes sea blue, sea deep. But there are a lot of people with blue eyes I said to myself. No matter how much I fought with myself, I knew it was too true for me to believe it. Too true for reasoning, but did it really need any reasoning? Does it need any answers?

Sometimes it’s hard to believe or shall I say it’s impossible to believe, just because we don’t want to. 

If there could be a perfect day, this was it. I sat at the coffee shop, taking small sips of a strong espresso as a cool refreshing breeze blew on my face. As I took out a cigarette from the pack something caught my eye, a child of about 15. He was sitting on the sidewalk. In a city like Delhi misery is as common as a big car, every corner of the street has one. But the kid cut an unusual pose, he wasn’t sad rather smiled at me in a dreamy manner.

It was nothing that would catch your attention on a busy road but the dreamy smile was magnetic. I took deep breaths in an attempt to fill my lungs with as much fresh air as I could. I took my eyes of the kid realizing my habit of staring at people.

I lit a cigarette and took the first drag struggling to get that kid’s face out of my mind. I stubbed the cigarette and walked out of the café. As I started to walk towards home, I realized the sun has gone to rest and ‘tamas’ had taken over this part of the earth. ‘Tamas’ I thought, such a beautiful word, meaning darkness in Sanskrit, I had read it in the morning papers somewhere. ‘tamas’ how sinister, how appropriate to its meaning. As I walked repeating the word in my mind, I felt a light tug at my shirt. 

It was the same boy, I saw sitting on the sidewalk. Wearing a megadeth t-shirt, ‘I always wanted one of those’ I said to myself. “I’m lost mister, can you find my home?” he said with a voice full of innocence but sinister at the same tine, like a voice from the past I thought. “Where’s your home kid?” I asked. “9/5 Andracia, 86” he said firmly. “And where are your parents? Did they leave you here or did you wander away from them?” I asked with a smile, ‘9/5 Andracia 86’ I thought, right out from a fairytale book. “I don’t have any parents.” He said with the same firmness.

It was confusing, the situation. There was no way I could leave this kid alone on the streets of this city. “Ok. We’ll find your home, come with me” I said. I brought him home, thinking his parents will call the police and will find him the next day, till then he can stay with me. The boy had strange ways for sure, he made himself comfortable as if he had been living in that place forever. He opened the cupboard took out a quilt and laid on the bed. I slept beside him without saying a word.

I woke up the next morning to find the kid sitting on the chair beside the bed with a cup in his hands. I was startled. He looked at me and said “Good morning mister, would you like to have some coffee?”

I got irritated at the pest who was behaving as if he owned the place, but I didn’t have time to think about it and rushed to the bathroom. I was late for work, nothing unusual, I always am. “Hey mister, your coffee” said the kid pointing at the cup lying on the table. I took a sip of the coffee, it was strong, bitter with little sugar, just how I liked it. I kept my excitement within as a voice in my mind said ‘Tamas’. “So what’s your name kid?” I asked ignoring the voice. “Tamas” he said. I looked up at him bedazzled rather scared. I might have spoken it aloud I thought. “What?” I asked again. “Tamas it means darkness in Sanskrit. What’s yours?” I was lost for words, my hands shivered but I tried to act normal. “L-Luv. Luv kalla” I replied.

He giggled and said “Cool name dude.”

I smiled at him and said “stay here, I’m off to work. Stay till your parents find you.” “I don’t have any, don’t you understand” he said in a grave voice filled with anger. “I’m sorry” I said, I don’t know why but I said it anyways. And ran from there, where was I running to? And from whom? I asked myself. I was just acting too spacey lately I said to myself.

Office was bad, I couldn’t concentrate on my work. The day ended for me early with countless cups of coffee and cigarettes. The kid was strange, was he reading my mind all the while? Or was it just me?

I reached home and opened the door, there he was sitting on the bed, a book in his hand and a cigarette in another. “Hey kid, you’re not supposed to smoke?”, he tore his eyes apart from the book and looked straight into mine. “Why?” he asked. “It’s bad and you’re too young.” I said. “is there an age for sinning?” he asked with a smile. I was too tired to get into an argument with a strange kid, or was I too scared?

“So luv what do you do?” he enquired again “Ah! Well I’m a writer, I work for an ad agency.”
“Don’t you feel guilty?” he asked me with a sense of pity. “Stop asking silly questions, feel guilty about what?” “Lying” he said calmly. “I’m not lying, lets go to the.. er I mean lets go for a walk.” I wanted to say to find your parents but the incident in morning flashed through my mind. “And you said you don’t lie, how long will you live like this?” he said with a confidence that scared me. He sure can read my mind I said to myself. “Shut up, lets go.” I said trying my best not sound disturbed, if that was the feeling. “lets go to the bar” he said with an excitement. Amazed at his strange ways I smiled and said ”you won’t be allowed in a bar.” “Why?” he asked. “oh! damn it I’m not gonna answer all your stupid questions.” I said in anger.

“No one has the answers, no one knows the truth. What matters is what I believe, and I think it is the truth!” he sang. “lets go to the carnival!” he said, and then added “Oh! They won’t let you in, because you don’t know the answer.” I walked out of the room in disgust.

Senseless bloody kid, I said to myself. Sitting on the terrace I thought about what he said. What did he mean by all those words? I asked myself. They were not hollow I knew. I heard the kid coming towards me, I ignored him. He came and sat beside me not speaking a word this time. “are you hungry?” I asked breaking the silence. “aren’t we all?” he said. “Look mr. wiseman, answer to what I ask. And stop acting like a prophet.” “I’m sorry” he said with utter sweetness that melted my anger. “Luv, will you write about me?” he asked. “I don’t know, why do you ask?” He looked up at the sky and said “many people wrote about me, they were also writers.” Amused at his strange manners “you’re one weirdo, kid” I confessed with a smile. “Just like you” he said.

“So what school do you go to?” I asked. “Oh! No I don’t go to schools, I don’t like them, they make me believe what they do.I’m free, I like it this way.” He said. “You’re one talker. But you’ll have to one day, you can’t be free all your life.” I said. “Have you ever tried it?” he replied.  “No I haven’t, what do you want to become when you grow up?” I asked feeling the tensed moments fade away. “I will become an explorer” he replied dreamily, as if he saw himself on a ship in the middle of an ocean. “and what will you explore?” I asked with childish curiosity. “The carnival and when I find it I will take you along” he said. I couldn’t understand what was he saying, either I was too ignorant or too stupid to try and understand a small boy’s talks I said to myself. “But they won’t let me in, I don’t know the answer.” I said. “Don’t worry, I will find it, you don’t even try to, just be patient and wait.”

“Yeah I’m sure you’ll find it, you’re more intelligent than me for sure” I said tongue in cheek. “Not more intelligent, more ignorant that makes it easier for me.” He said with a grave seriousness in his words. As if waking from a dream he suddenly said “Let’s go sleep!”
I followed him like a zombie and hit the bed. “Luv, don’t try to find the carnival, you will get lost. Wait for me, I will find it for you and then you can be free, just like me.” He was speaking in his sleep, I smiled.

I didn’t realize when I slipped off to sleep, when I woke up, he wasn’t there beside me. I thought he was making coffee or smoking on the terrace. I continued my morning routine. When I was ready for the office and couldn’t spot him. I checked the terrace and the kitchen he wasn’t there. The main door was locked from inside. I searched frantically everywhere. I found a piece of paper on the bed.

‘Wait Luv, that’s all you can do, I will take you to the carnival one day’ -Tamas

P.S: Don’t write about me, they won’t believe you.

Where did he go? Who was he? The mind reading little prophet. 9/5 Andarcia  86? His home? Something stuck me as the word ‘tamas’ rang in my mind again. 9/5/86 that’s my birthdate, the day when I came in this world, was it just a coincidence? How can it be his home? How can someone read my mind like a book? I sat down startled at this incident. My mind stopped working at the absurdity of the situation.
 

His words echoed in my mind “Don’t you feel guilty?” “They won’t let you in, because you don’t know the answer.”  “Luv, don’t try to find the carnival, you will get lost. Wait for me, I will find it for you and then you can be free, just like me.”
“Wait Luv, that’s all you can do, I will take you to the carnival one day”. Who was he? What was he?

Was he for real or did I just dream it? Was he a part of me that had come to life? What carnival? I was going crazy with these questions. It was just something I imagined I thought assuring myself. But how do I explain the paper, I didn’t write it. It was safe for me not to think about it if I was to keep my sanity. I opened the door and left for office. ‘I will wait, because that’s all I can do!’ said a voice in my head.

 


There’s a thin line between dreams and reality and we always keep crossing it.
 

Given an option I’d rather be here in this freaky place rather than be in Ahmedabad. Because delhi is much more than fly-overs, whorekids better known as rickshaw drivers, showing off, shallowness, chicken & cheese, hot arrogant chicks, big brands, big cars, politicians, wide roads and a hell lotta people. Delhi is about the red fort (though I’ve never been there but it sounds cool in a speech), India gate, it speaks about the history and rich culture of my nation, the fusion of India and the west,

Alright! Alright! To be truthful it’s just the cheap booze, upcoming rock scene and those humongous asses!!    

But how can this all end with out a silly ‘luv’ joke: Q; What city is Delhi??    A: Obecity!! :p