A day with The Alchemist

Not always a new place motivates you and particularly when you have left your mom unhappy. Every second, you feel she needs you.

“Got your hostel?” mom asked me over phone.

Oh god! I forget to bring my beddings everyday. “No, you are not a man who forgets something but you are tired each day,” My heart said.

“Yes mom,” I lied.

“Be regular with your meals,” she said.

A few years back she used to remind me to be regular with my studies. She is mom; she knows what you are not regular with. She got me a smile.

“Eyes”, they are good to look at but not in the books. I preferred to take a break from the images , lens, retina and all.

The Alchemist- the novel I wanted to read many days back.

“The boy’s name is Santiago.” I started turning the pages.

Sheeps are so innocent and so is Santiago.

“I want you to go kilometers away and become a renowned eye surgeon,” mom said when my result was declared. “You need to keep your father’s name alive.”

I know she is still in shock following father’s untimely demise. She needs me now. And so was in case of Santiago’s father. He needed him. But you know all is destiny, the omens.                                                                It’s Monday. Madam takes class.

“Where is your torch?” she asked me.

“Ma’am it’s in the bag.”

“Does it need some rest?” she raised her left eyebrow. “You keep it in your pocket always.”

Who would tell her that any light in the desert would invite tribals who are in war. Santiago really needs treasure? Or the destiny? My sister asked me to be a pediatrician and not an eye surgeon. They don’t earn much fortune. But I know, this was the only option left to choose from, to be an eye surgeon. May be she doesn’t know destiny. Destiny is not money or treasure. It is being a part of something you were supposed to be a part of. It’s all maktub.

“Hello, why are you wasting your time reading nonsense?” a friend yelled at me. “Ma’am is going to shout at us. See her in the cabin.”

Oh god! Not again.

“Hey boy, believe in you,” I said to myself and remembered the words the camel driver said, “To die tomorrow was no worse than dying any other day.”

“It’s a month now, can you use your ophthalmoscope?” ma’am asked us.

Everyone stood silent. It’s an omen. A storm is on its way. She signaled me with her eyes to break my silence.

“Yes ma’am,” I replied. “What I can seeinside is circular yellow field like that of a desert.”

“Yes, this is your world now,” she said. “Know that well.”

I won’t get a single patient at my place, I need to settle down in the capital. And this thought tensed me a bit. Uncertainty prevailed in my heart.

Santiago was lucky to be able to cross the desert. He was lucky to meet his destiny. He was lucky enough to meet Fatima-the woman of the desert.

“You have your girl too,” said my heart.

Yeah, but the daughter of the merchant?

“Oh no! Not now. She is your past,” my heart politely told me.

“It’s an omen,” I said to myself having got my answer. “She was an omen.” Santiago got his treasure and returned to Fatima. Why I can’t? Why can’t I settle down in my small town?

“Even the alchemist continued to live in the desert even though he understood the language of the world, and know how to transform lead into gold.” I answered myself,“Your destiny is not becoming rich and getting the treasure but it’s knowing the language of the world.”

Happy women's day !!

You are weak. You are delicate. You are innocent. You are breakable. You are saleable. You are purchasable. You are procureable. You are useable. You are the dancer in the item songs. You are supposed to be the one who cooks in the kitchen. You are the punch bag supposed to be hit on being angry. You are the one responsible for a broken relationship. You are the one acid is to be thrown at. You are the one supposed to wait with empty stomach until I return from the bar late at night. You are the one who is supposed to keep my mother happy. You are the one who supposed to keep my home clean.
In return? I am there, no!
Take my debit card. You may go for shopping with my friend’s wife. Don’t talk to other men there by. Take the car and the driver. He drives better even after having a peg.
You need more? No issue.
Take my credit card. Oh, yeah, drop by the beauty parlour. These days you look a bit different from the moon. And don’t meet that old friend of yours. I don’t like him. I will be late tonight and may be that I return by tomorrow morning.
Still you need more? Okay!
You look beautiful. You are very cute. You are the woman I wanted to be with in my life. You are the one without whom I would have been nowhere. And baby, you were awesome last night. That’s good, you are smiling. Love you. Go, make some breakfast for me. Where’s my watch? Where are my files? You useless. Do you even know what an office is! Brainless body! You are the God’s one and only mistake.
She is a woman. She has a world. I wonder, even a single man has gone there. She smiles, she bears you; not because she is weak but she chooses to be the one who cares for you. You don’t even know what she really wants. Her world is full of happiness, peace, strength. Yes, it’s too delicate. Her world is full of simplicity, yet strong enough to keep the whole of your world happy. She does not need your help nor sympathy but every “she” wants one that man to her world to shower love. It’s sad that no man satisfy the match.
Oh baby! You are sad for the morning?
You know, my manager’s wife is so ugly.
And she smiles. She forgets all the sorrows.
Hey woman! Be like you are. Judge people the way you judge. And use your strength the way you use. Make this world like yours. At least, this man desperately backs you to make some change.
HAPPY  WOMEN’S DAY.

THE THIRD NATION (A FICTION) Pt- III

Read Part-II


“For past few weeks you always poke me with religion. What’s wrong with you?” I literally cried. “When you see my face, you kiss me. When you see my belly, you kiss me. When you see my thighs, you kiss me. Why don’t you talk of Muslim that time? Don’t they belong to a Muslim girl?”

I cried, I was feeling like I have lost my last reason to live the life. He, whom I loved, accuses me for being a Muslim. 

“What do you want from me?” I asked him.

“It’s not your fault. It’s our ancestors’. During partition of India, the basis was religion. In 1940, Jinnah told that the Musalmans are not a minority but a nation. Savarkar had said that it is a historical fact that Hindus and Muslims are two nations. During that time 14.5 million people displaced, million died. They say it was about ‘One divisions’ or ‘Many division’ but truth is that Muslims have got a country and Hindus didn’t get one.”

“Don’t say India is for Hindus,” I prompted.

“Ofcourse, it is not. I am fed up debating with pro-Hindus. Logically they are right. By the two nation theory, Muslims got their share but still a few patriotic Muslims refused to be a part of partition and 

remained in India. Well, it’s appreciable. Why didn’t they try to stop partition then? Either get back Pakistan or give Hindus their nation.”

I knew it was high time to take a stand because religion came in between the relationship. I quietly stood up and went in my room. I remembered his warm embrace. I remembered him making funny 

expressions for me. But partition was need of the hour. It was better to be displaced like Sindhi Hindus of Punjab who did that non-violently. I decided to come out of live-in relationship. I patted myself for using protection every night. I don’t want my child to be another Kashmir.

Time passed painfully. Almost after three months Adarsh appeared at my door to take me back.

“Sorry, actually I was fed up answering everyone’s question regarding Muslims. When they compare Indian muslims with that of Pakistani terrorist or with ISIS, I literally had no answer. After contemplation, I think that the need of the hour is a third nation- a nation for seculars, a nation for us. Either India should be divided once again among Hindus and seculars or India should unite back and fight back the terrorists. I know you put me wrong. You are going with me. Get ready.”

When the basis of partition was crystal clear then why didn’t they declare a separate Hindu nation? I was quietly reasoning his logic through. May be he was right. If Hindus get a separate nation, we may no longer be named as terrorist. 

“Baby, I know, I have hurt you a lot. I should not have talked about religion. I promise, I will not ever make the same mistake. Love you baby.”

He waited from morning to evening hoping to take me back. I showed no interest. A Muslim can never have a family with a Hindu. I love him and this makes me feel proud. I hope that the next time we both are together, we will be in a third nation. Lastly he stood up to catch up the last train to his destination. I had last minute to stop him. I observed him as he walked to the door. I took a deep breath and started counting in reverse under my breath. “Ten, nine, eight, seven…”

I knew I made my mind and so I stopped at seven.

THE THIRD NATION (A FICTION) Pt-II

Read Part - I


Time changed, things changed and we started living together in Delhi. His family abandoned him. And my family didn’t know about him. We were happy. He loves me a lot. There were a few differences, we sorted out. We had similar views on religion. We didn’t find any harm in practicing two religions at the same time. If we can have multiple life insurances then why can’t have faith in multiple religion. One or the other will lead us to heaven. I am criticized among my friends for being with a hindu boy. I know he might have faced the same. We never compared the two faiths because we love each other. We love peace.
“Hey baby,” he kissed me.
“Oh it’s time,” I smiled, “Quickly get ready.”
“I am ready, just I need to shave. I know you will take time.” He pushed me towards the bathroom.
It was Rohit’s birthday celebration. We did our post graduation together. Rohit and Adarsh were good friends. The hall was full of friends and relatives. I was the only Muslim and that made me feel awkward.
I felt others avoided me. But Adarsh never let me down. He was always with me. We enjoyed a lot at the party. Adarsh even had a few drinks. We were a bit in a hurry as Adarsh had interview next day.
“What did they ask you?” I enquired about the interview.
“Not much, about current affairs. Oh, they have even asked me about my stand on current ordinance passed by the Central Government which allows Bangladeshi Hindu immigrants to be citizen of india.”
“One minute, let me guess. You are against the ordinance. Right?”
“No, not at all. All were in favour of the order except the interviewer.’ He replied.
“Why are you people partial to Hindus? A hindu or a muslim, a Bangladeshi is always a Bangladeshi,” I reasoned. “Will you leave some of your land for them?”
“I have not thought about it. And may be yes, if others do.” He smiled, “Okay leave the topic. Please get me dinner my sweet heart.”
In the morning I was afresh. It was bright outside. I had forgotten what happened last night. I was happy. He was sitting near window with the newspaper.
“What’s there in the news today?” I asked him while cuddling with my pillow.
“Our Prime Minister is making us proud in USA.”
“And?”
“Curfew in Gurgaon.”
“What the hell!” I was shocked to the news. “Why?”
“A few miscreants put beef in a temple last night. Eye witnesses say it’s a muslim boy.” He continued, “There was almost a riot last night when we were sleeping. What the hell wrong with these Muslims?”
I was quiet all of a sudden. Why? Just why can’t people live peacefully?
“I condemn what happened last night but you can’t blame the whole Muslim community.” I shared my views.
“Yeah, but repeated nuisance created by Muslim miscreants compel us to think this way.
Those days we argued very often. Everywhere the topic was same, Hindu-Muslim. Muslims think that they are being exploited. They don’t care about the so called Muslims exploiting Muslims. A few Muslims wave Pakistani flag in India and apart from criticism, nothing is done against them. Had it been in Pakistan or Saudi Arabia, the terrorist groups would have killed them. And the Hindus think Muslims are terrorists.
“Hindus have been exploited,” he said.
“Be straight forward. Say it, you hate muslims. They should not be in india, isn’t it?” I was aloud.
“No, not like that but all Muslims always unite and separate themselves from any talk. For instance, if a Muslim boy is accused of some misdeeds then the whole Muslim community comes up to declare him innocent.”
“Yeah, ofcourse, if an innocent boy is victimized then why should not we come forward?”
“Every time it happens, be it Kasab or be it Menon. You think all are victimized, why?”
“You hate me because I am a Muslim? You want me to convert?” I wanted to make it clear.
“When did I mention that?”

                   ...Part III