Born Again!!!

The man opened his eyes. Wrapped in bandage from the crown of his head to the sole of his feet, just sparing his face. Eyeballs to the left, eyeballs to the right. With a face as solemn as a baked potato, he asked a question that has intrigued the common man and the philosopher alike, “Who am I...where have I come from?”

And the rest of the story is as funny or as sore as you can imagine.

But think about it. What would happen if we could have a representation of the choicest, most savvy companies in the news business, interview a candidate most likely to know the answer to those questions. A new born!

I have an idea. Am gonna write to you as one talks to one’s reflection. Man to man. A brief story of birth. Beyond boundaries, beyond thoughts and views, beyond imaginations, beyond famous and infamous isms, beyond popular beliefs, beyond the idea of ‘you’ and beyond the idea of ‘me’.

Just stuff, from my psyche and neurons to your psyche and neurons. 

If the idea feels weird, kindly don’t read further. Eyes open, thoughts dubious, fingers fast, close this tab in the browser. Here we go!!

Curtains lifted, ample dramatic light thrown in.....

Reporter 1: We hear, you have just landed here, how was the travel?

NB (Newborn): Mmmm, not bad, although I’ve heard of other traumatic stories. My host was quite healthy and active and was aware of the procedures and cooperated my exit.

Rep2: How were things in that world where you come from?

NB: Ah! I already miss that world and I made that amply clear by bursting into a cry, didn’t I? (Chuckles)

Rep1: Any fond memories?

NB: (Dreamy eyes) Life as such was easy ya! As if everything around was prepared for me to come alive, everything around was wired to provide. The planning, I must tell you, was extraordinary. I had everything I needed at a finger’s distance. And look at me now, racking my brain for answers to your questions! (grin)

Rep2: Haha, we see the antenna of sarcasm growing. Congratulations! You will need that plenty here. Now, tell us about the entry to that space?

NB: Well, strangely, no memories at all. 'Twas a moment and I was just there. That’s exactly what I remember.

Rep1: What do you mean? You must have come via some passage right? Haven’t you heard of the popular isms?

NB: (Frowning) Eh?

Rep3: (with a lip smacking snigger) Well, I am the specialist here, lemme speak mates. You see NB, it’s very tough to "un-understand". In this world, when you have something that you can’t quite wrap your head around, you put an abstract layer on top of it. Its called an ism or whatever you want to call it.

NB: So, what am I abstracted to?

Rep3: (rolling his tongue) Lemme see, lemme see. For a starter, a name? See, a name will represent you and the whole world will know you by that name but then does your name mean your flesh and blood? Nay. It’s just like your reflection in the mirror. That’s the beauty of the idea! You got it NB?

NB: I might have. Well, this isn’t quite the case in the world I come from. Things were called exactly what they are!

Rep1: Name one for us, a worthy example?

NB: (squinting eyes) Ten thousand thundering typhoons! I can’t remember it now! But this I know that I used to summon things by name to provide for me and we all had jolly good conversations every day!

Rep2: Now, friends, we have grossly diverted from the agenda. Kindly elaborate your entry to that world NB.

NB: All I remember was that once there was a nothing.  I don’t remember anything about this space. And, then at once, there was a spark in that nothing. And a world rushed out in that nothing, in search of another world. The destined world perhaps. And then out of nowhere, the two worlds collided. With such momentum, with such a brutal force that they no more remained those individual worlds. They were dead and a third world came alive. That was me.

Rep3: Fantastic! Spill it, tell me more!! What was this ‘nothing’ like? Was it like a station where people waited? Or was it like a river? Did you see people crossing the river? Aha! It might be like concentric circles, with people moving from one circle to another circle based on their merit?

NB: Whoa! Some imagination dude! Where did you get these stories from?

Rep2: (Coughing) Well, these aren’t stories NB, these are the isms, Rep3 was earlier talking about. But you seem immature to grasp the lofty idea.

NB: All I am saying is, I don’t know jack-shit about the blah you are asking me.

Rep1: (Excited) So, are you saying that said the ‘nothing’ is actually nothing? Please confirm this breaking news!

NB: (Angry) No, I chose to say ‘nothing’ because I remember absolutely nothing about it now. Maybe I would have had if I hadn't accepted your invite to have this ridiculous conversation!!!

Rep1: So, my friend, evidently, you are at your wit's end. Now, you must submit to either of these two options. Either you describe what the ‘nothing’ was or choose one of the isms.

NB: I see. (Pondering) What are my options on the isms? What if I don't choose at all?

Rep3: Well, there are some major categories. There is “Everything is bullshit, so everything is organic” group, you automatically subscribe to this one if you don't choose. Then, there's the “I suffer I achieve” group, the “All is suffering, so imagine there is no suffering” group, “You suffer I achieve” group and a “Someone has suffered, so we achieve” group.

NB: Why is suffering the main theme? And the last one is horrendous isn’t it?

Rep3: Welcome! We love to suffer over here, actually quite enjoy the activity. After all it’s all about the concept of reward and punishment you see.  And yeah, the last group, it’s generally for the losers of the world, people who have pretty much declared, “I cannot do it on my own”.

NB: One sec, who helps these losers? And what reward and punishment? What about life? Where is life?

Rep3: It’s kinda confidential, you see, the Geuters agency might have the coordinates of this ‘help’.

Rep2: (almost interrupting Rep3) Whoa! Wait..what life? This is life.

NB: (sighing heavily) Man! I miss the feeling of being born. I thought I’d have a fulfilling and good life!

Rep3: What good life? Everything is relative. (Suddenly recalling something) Although, I think, I have heard about this before. This freaking 'abundant life' stuff. Marketing tactics I say.

NB: But what if it’s true? Try to feel as if you are a new born, you would feel the nudge of that abundant life! I had felt it when I was born!

Rep1: (sulking) You can’t feel an act like this one, it’s not as easy as virtual intercourse.

NB: Then try a hand at being born. Again!!

Rep3: (sarcastic grin) Yeah right! Please enlighten me, how’s that possible?

NB: Well, of what I know, the two worlds that made me, desired my birth and finally I came alive! So, whatever you want to be born for, you just desire it and it comes alive! The breeze blows where it wishes, have you ever seen it? You can just feel it. Such is this desire!

Rep2: Whatever I want to be 'born for' or 'born as'?

NB: How does it matter? What you desire becomes what you are born as. But that is also exactly what you are born for!!

And the rest of the story is as inspiring or as meaningless as you can imagine.

So, the curtains of thoughts were pulled down and the lights of the words turned down. Just a soothing breeze remained, with the echoes of the words like amber fireflies in the dark, on the periphery of the story. 

Down the lane

And the car swooped down, hiccups on a bump but that didn't stop our laughter. 

The taxi uncle and me were on the most funny part of the story. Now, that's how things work in India, you find a relation with pretty much everybody around and very rarely call someone by just their names. So, the man selling yumms snack becomes bhaiya(brother) and the taxi driver your chacha(uncle).

As we sped up and passed the silent haunted line of constructions, he narrated the story of how he fell in love with a girl, maybe some 40 odd years back.

"Goon fights, exodus from the villages around, skyscrapers, Kolkata was just steering towards the modern day Kolkata. And tired and jaded would I come back to my stay in the evening and these two sisters in the neighbourhood would come and chat with us. The chats led to going to movies and movies begat a wedding!",he said with a sigh of what seemed like a half satisfied expression. 

"I think I didn't wanna marry her though but now that I am married to her all these years, I think, चलो इतनी खराब भी नहीं है, ठीक ठाक ही है (meaning, she's not that bad, she's just about alright). And we both chuckled, he in relief and myself at the nasty me. 'Twas me who had requested for an adventurous story and when I had said रोमांच (pronounced 'romanch' meaning adventure), he had heard 'romance'.

He mused, "Once I hadn't seen my family for 15 years, I had almost forgotten their faces. And you never quite understand who is actually closer to you. For when you go home, you'd forget the city and when you return to the city, you'd forget the silly faces in the village. Such is life!"

One of the pros of returning to your memories, in my case today, to scribbles from a decade back, is finding stuff that you almost discover as if it was someone else's life. There's a good thing about creation though, it's applicability each time is new! Like water, you put it in a container and it takes the shape of the container. I don't have an iota of a memory of why I wrote this but it does feel pretty recent and it's good to trade a house of bricks for a house of words, at least for a few minutes in a day, even if the words were borrowed from the past :)

Am ditching English monoglot readers next since the Hindi/Urdu words are written in Devanagari script for its own reason and as much as I'd like to translate this, I haven't had the time or the apt words yet. Maybe soon though! 

मन के मनके

मन की  कौन  सुने 

जो  मन  शिकायत करता  है 

दो  चम्मच  बातों  से  बोझल 

मन की ही आयत  से डरता  है

गलियों  में  दीवारें  हैं 

ऊंची सी और  नीची  सी भी 

और  तानो  बानो  में जड़कर 

मन, मन ही में मरता  है

कोई  सुराग हो , कोई हो छेद

रौशनी  की एक किरण भी मिले 

कोई चिराग  हो बुझता  हुआ सा 

दूर हों सारे  शिक़वे  गीले 

हाथ  फैलाकर कभी  

न  माँगा  है आसमान , न ज़मीन

के हाथों के लकीरों  से खैंचकर

कहाँ तोड़े  जाते  हैं कीले

बारी बारी से न भुलाये  सोच 

मुठ्ठी  में समेटे  जाते नहीं 

चंद ज़ख्मों की कहानी  भी भला 

भुलाये  भूल  पाते हैं कहीं?

बस धूल पर पढ़े  रहते  हैं झूठ

और सादे आँखों में दिखता है

के, मन का सच है मन ही में

मन  ही  में यहीं