A true story – Rahul / Raxx whatever you call

Once, on this tiled floor, I fell out over silly things like getting a way for my new tractor-trolly which my father bought me the other day, after I was being obdurate. Gosh ! I loved that red tractor. I loved all the toys which I got at some point. I loved the crayons and the geometry-boxes. I had a great collection of disney stickers, I didn’t even use, and kept as it is. I didn’t know how to fly a kite, yet I used to buy ‘em every spring. I used to draw, paint things… anything from a fish to a whole landscape. Even though nobody appreciated my drawings and paintings. They thought it’s a waste of time and efforts. “Do you wanna be a painter? Really? Paint the houses, doors, sidewalk, the ramp over the sewage?” They used to chuckle at the astonishment on my face. It was not a profession in the era of Doctors, Engineers, Lawyers or… Doctors. Don’t worry, I didn’t type it twice actually. The doctoring was considered the best of all. Their mentality was confined to that. For those whose fate was chained to the counter of their father’s shop, no matter how small it was, were not allowed to dream big. Dreams like- going out for studies, living in hostels, and doing your favourite courses. They had to sit at their father’s shop sooner or later, no matter they drastically lacked interest in that. I was one of them.

I write, not much like I used to. But yeah, still I’m in touch with pen and paper. I remember, I could complete that poetic work of mine, consisting of something impossible to think of, at least by 12 years old kid. The words, the rhythms, the verses, the metaphors. They were outstanding. I could be one of the youngest modern literature writer. Even today, I can’t beat that kind of compositions. But the destiny of my writing vanished into thin air, when my siblings called it something worthless, just like they disdained my love for artistic works. That poetic work of mine, got terminated and remained unfinished since then.

What a fate, I was born with. I mean, fantastic sketching at the age of 9, terrific painting at the age of 10 and excellent writing skills at the age of 12. But all lacked one thing – Support from my near and dears. What do you expect from a kid who hasn’t even stepped into teenage? He can’t persist with something unless his elders support him and not disparage his work, no matter how inferior it sounds to them. At least, the kid is happy doing that work. You never know, tomorrow he may fetch more esteem and prosperity by what he loves to do. Sadly, my family didn’t understand it, until I passed my adolescence and taught them so.

Businessman Wearing Cape

As I mentioned before, my fate was handcuffed to the counter of my father’s shop, I never saw the dream of flying like an eagle and settled with what the average youngsters used to pursue. Although, a very distinct part of my inner-self was continuously begging me stop faking smiles and hunt for a real one. But I didn’t, until one day when my family itself asked me to go out and explore the world. They handed me with the application form of something, I never heard of before. Holding that form with few other classmates, I stepped out of my range of vision. They were happy… my family… neighbours…  and somehow, they thought I would be happy too. Do you really think, you can force someone to dream the vision of yours, which is another form of disinterest and impassivity for him? You’ve got your answer, I guess.

Still, you can be either optimistic or pessimistic. And being an optimist, I tried to hunt that somehow repaired smile in those years of endless struggle. But my life frowned as it rewrote that fate of mine. Ended with a charming degree in my hands, which I didn’t even receive ceremonially, because I lacked excitement in that. And then, the real chapter of life begins – The empirical and monetary world. Expectations rose for my degree to go into the field and start printing currencies. And that is exactly what didn’t happen. Lost in the battles of facing the world, yet I stood still. Eyes shedded tears, yet my calmness overcame the restlessness. Every morning I woke up with my eyes wide open. Every day I went out with a winning mask and came back with a defeated face. I knew, the dreams I used to shelter, had long gone. So, whatever I had in my grasp, I had to live with. Nobody’s gonna wipe my tears out. Friends, Family, Girlfriend, they’re all means of a reminder that nothing’s gonna change now. I had to live with that. They kept on boosting me up for giving my next best shot.

They confused me with my contemporary situation with the one I was bound with. If they hadn’t made me dream their own vision, then I must have settled at my father’s shop and in that case, I wouldn’t even be writing this thing right now. And If I was allowed to work on my own dreams, then I could be someone far far beyond their imagination, because their imaginations are limited to their surroundings’ happenings. But neither happened.

Sometimes… most of the times… I do follow their instructions, at least for their satisfaction. They wished to see me like a common man earning adequate sum of money, surrounded by the known people of a locality, who commutes to his office everyday with a mind-map of how to please his boss, who is allowed to dream but not big enough, who can afford cars but not Aukaat ke bahar, who is married and blessed with beautiful kids for whom he brings gifts of about same amount every weekend, who spend his holidays at Shimla and not at Vienna, who is filled with that feeling of ‘commonness’ and who is known by a very very limited folks.


But who am I from inside? A happy, good-humoured person? NO !! I never wanted to be a Common man. I literally had a diary which I called “dream book”. I wished to have so many things. I wished to have everything. But nothing came in my hands, but blues. I wished to conquer the world.. But, couldn’t even conquer my own emotions. I wanted to spread smiles like they’re herpes. And look at me, my steps are followed by dolorous. The guy, who could be an inspiration, an ideal for of billions for millennium… settled to be a……. nothing !!!

Sired to stutter from inception

You really need to put that away. This sharp cutting edge of the knife can cause so much unstoppable haemorrhage, you see. This isn’t a game of win or loose. This is your one and only enviable life, which is worth living. Give a shot. Pull some strings. Toss a coin or two. Try your damn luck. I’m sure, it’s capable of bringing good outcomes. Whimper a little and get up. Try again. Just don’t stop your heart from beating.

WHY? I mean look at that little niece of mine, clenching her first talks with her uncle. But she can’t, because her uncle has become a psychopath, who has ruined all his happiness. And now he’s turned himself into a wretch. No family. No future. No fucking smile on face. The only thing left with him, is this insipid life he is living, in his dark room. God !!! I want to hug her. My niece.. I want to hold her in my arms.. I want to tell her stories of her uncle. But what great story can possibly come out of my mouth? Whatever I have in my grasp, is all meant to vanish soon. Because whatever it is, its not good. I need to end this. I need to end this grey life. I have done horrible things in my life or the people around me made me do so… whatever… but the thing is they can’t be undone. Clock can’t work backwards. What’s done, has been engraved on the stones. They aren’t written on the sand on some sea shores. I just wanna end this suffering. I even don’t have to tell people to do not stand on my grave and weep, because I guess, there will be no people there.

What about those dreams we saw together? Those things to do before you die? And that list of places awaiting for you being there and checking? Don’t you wanna stay in Vienna anymore? Don’t you wanna make your own franchisee chain? What happened to all of them?

It was a long…very long time ago. Now I have almost buried all my dreams. Vienna? It was right there, in front of me, hanging on the wall. I could do anything to jump into that picture. That picture, brighter than the sun ever could be. My dream. Yes, Yes It’s been my dream for so long. But then, you know, that wall rose, slowly, very slowly, between me and that whirling dream. It rose until it kissed the sky. Then I blacked out. Its shadow was on me. Then concussion. Suddenly, I am black. No longer the lights of my dream before me.

I would still request you to hold fast on the last remaining of hopes. Don’t let yourself down. You’re my brave buddy. Just help yourself out. Don’t quit. Even my voice is little unkempt. I know how many times you’ve risen back and all those times, the universe put you back to the ground. But ‘hope’ is all what we carry all these times, in this journey. We see ups and downs. No doubt, your downs have been a bit hideous. But, still they aren’t beyond mend.


This cruel life is not letting me stay optimistic. Day in, day out. All what I can think is, how to get back on my feet and all this universe is making me think is how to give up sooner or later. Why terrible things happen to the most amazing people? Rejected by my own folks, I fought alone for quite a time. I stood there, in those arrows raining over me. Bequeathed by this mother ‘nature’. My mind is all infected. I didn’t commit any mistake at my own. Yet my soul suffers from this…this inferiority. Like a lamb led to its slaughter, I am filled with despairing thoughts. I had all the advantages back then. But now, I feel like I am underprivileged from conception. I feel like I am sired to ruination… I am sired to stutter from inception. The bitter taste of vanquishment has consumed me thoroughly. My puny heart traumatises. And you ask me to rise a phoenix, from these ashes?

My dear, I know, this life of yours have hit you a blow. Your friends and acquaintances, to whom you once called your family, are all making a mockery of you, causing you to desiccate from the very thought of going outside. You want to stay imprisoned in your room, in your own house by these….these psychosomatic fetters of a short fall. But trust me, you can rise again. You may have been blackened and tripped, by the turn of events of your life. I agree that the level of energy might have been slowly oozing from your brain. But trust me, you can fill it with vitality again. Rise up from the mud of despondence. Hold my hand. One step at a time my dear. Dream…dream again and again. As you do this, the cataract of resentment will fall off your eyes. Your vision will be revived. You will be able to picture a day full of hopes. Cast this vision of yours, far…far ahead to a place of consolation, a location of reassurance and in a position of triumph. 🙂


You’re not God !!

“You have said such a moronic thing, that can’t be unheard now. Are you out of your freaking mind? Seriously, you should think, a hundred times, before blasting off such things. You could have shot me with anything, but these words. Don’t you know that your words were more harmful than a bullet? A bullet can just…”


“Don’t cut me, you mindless nerd !!”

“But… seriously, you can’t remember because that night, you got really blotto and it was very freezing outside.”

“Silly ! I don’t drink that much to Cut off my own nose to spite this face, got it? Now, you listen to me very carefully. I don’t know any single word you said. I want you to just get rid of that thing or cut me loose.”

“Baby, I can’t leave you, in my dreams even. Okay, we’ll go and find a doctor tomorrow.”

“Not we. It’s just you alone! Call me, once you get cleared of that plague, you’re carrying. Good bye and good luck…”

Here I am getting goosebumps, just by envisioning the agony of that girl, whom her love of life, just asked to end her hopes to have a little one, born in her own womb. A silent tear rolls out my face, in this heaviness of heart. I’m sure, any sensible person can feel this. It’s not the case of any remote girl, but it’s something happening in every 3rd chamber, around the world. We cease to give thought to the feelings of that girl. Rather, we try to form opinions about her. Seriously, “that’s us”. Okay, let me tell you something about what must be cropping up in the brain of that innocent girl, who never filled it with anything extra than her soft thoughts and feminine insight into the things and the people around.

Weeping on the couch, broken down, yet talking to her lover, inside her skull –

“Why did you do that? You said you love me. I did everything, you asked me to… I fought my father for you; That father, who built a tree house for me. I was his princess… And, what’s the fault of this forthcoming? Abortion is a murder, don’t you know baby? There is no greater sin than to end a gift of god, before its time. I know, you know this. Your mother, also, gave birth to you. Then, why do you want me to exercise God’s right, which doesn’t even belong to me. Are all those beautiful moments, we spent together, just fake? If you can’t listen to me, then for god’s sake, listen to this flesh of yours, whom you don’t want to give a chance to live. It will never get to see our faces. It will never get to know what could have been if it had a different fate. God gave me a womb, not to sag, but to carry a life, a human soul. Please forgive me, baby. But, I think, I can’t kill this life alone. If it has to be ended, then it must end with me. I love you.”

Some end this like she did; Some, by taking pills the doctor give them. And some get a dreadful ending in the clinic, laying in the cold, hard bed, having guilt while watching it’s getting torn out. Abortion has got so much common these days that we “men” think that “every woman should do this, but unfortunately not every woman gets one”. We want to make love, but at the same time, we don’t want to be a father. “Come on. It’s natural.”, these are our words.

Just think once, how much proud you are giving to your mother, by wrecking someone else’s right to be a mother. Think it everyday for the rest of your life. I’m sure, you’ll find your answer.

Stop being a selfish jerk, and start respecting the woman you love. In my view, even watching this hideous sin to happen, is a shame in itself. Folks, just listen to the voice of that unborn. Every unborn’s last words before you brutally end it, somehow, might be “Help me mamma, they are tearing me apart… there goes my tiny legs… there goes my tiny little heart… I love you mamma… I love you too daddy… Believe me I really do… And, I thought you loved me too !!”


This is something that I hope you’ll never do in your life. Why do you want to get burnt in God’s fire-pit? Remember, the God has a pan for all of us. He’ll surely take a tooth for a tooth. Don’t be such a savage. You’re not God…

Aaaahhhh…. Even, I got tears while conveying this message.