Expressive I's

YOU AND I

2011-12-31T09:02:00.000-08:00

Each time you gave some of you
You took some more of me,
Each time you closed your eyes to sleep
You stole some dreams of me,
Each time the sun set on your dreamy days
You shadowed the light in me,
Each time you looked at your reflection
You mirrored a lot of me,
Each time you stared at my frank eyes,
You entered the skin of me.

And now, when you are some of I
And some of I is you,
Difficult our lives have become
In removing all of you;

When I try to shed some of you,
I shed a lot of me,
With each layer that I skin off
You disappear with some more of me,
So deep was the intrusion of you in my life
That you are the majority in me;

Little by little, bit by bit,
Your rays had entered me,
And now erasing the thought of you
Is like dimming the light in me.

And with a new view, I look at you
Searching for the lost me
And all I find is a void sublime
Where darkness was traded for me,
The larks have stopped singing
The tales of love,
Now that, there's no more of me in thee!

Wherefore Shall One Find?

2010-10-14T06:34:00.001-07:00

Oft at times, one should find
A mind engaged
In warring contradictions
In a place like this
Where exists a knowledge abyss!

Alas! Bereft of Convictions,
Thoughts often aged
Swarm without Friction.
In a place like this
A questioning soul is amiss!

Stay Away My Dear!

2010-10-12T08:03:00.001-07:00

An overcast sky,
Clouded with darkness
A spring of colour
Spreads nevertheless.

Yet he Forbids
Happiness to come near
A tale spun so sordid
That Quoth he
“Stay Away My Dear”

What shalt she say
Grown weary with neglect.
Their Conversations abound
Erratic and Forlorn
Emphatic with words
And Absence of Sound

O’ she wonders!
How at fault was she?
And so she Wonders
As Time Flies Nigh
Is her Love someday To Be?

Aapke jawaab mein

2010-10-04T10:20:00.000-07:00

छोटी छोटी रंजिशों में प्यार ढूंढ लें तो जाने
कोसों दूर रहने वाले की भावना को समझ पाएं तो जाने
ठहाके मारने के दिन तो उसी क्षण लद गए
जब बिलखती आँखों के मायने आपके लिए हो गए बेमाने

स्व-जड़ित कैदों से विचार मुक्त हो पाएं तो जाने
किसी की यादों से खुद को विमुख कर पाएं तो जाने
गनीमत सिलवतें ही थी, क्या आप भूल गए,
अपने हाथों के उस स्पर्श को हमसे छीन पाएं तो जाने

किसी की उल्फतों को नज़र-अंदाज़ कर पाए तो जाने

सोचते हैं की कभी तो दर्द बयान कर पाएं
उस काली कलम से शब्द छीन पाएं तो जाने
जिन सवालों के जवाब से आप खुद रहे बेखबर
वो छोड़ हमें, खुद से पूछें तो जाने

हमारे इकरार को मुक़र्रर कर पाएं तो जाने

क्या खूब-ऐ-किस्मत हमारा मजाक उड़ाया करती है
हमारी की गयी प्रशंसा को दरकिनार करिए तो जाने
आपकी खामोशी हमसे हमको ही छीन कर ले गयी
वो हंसी, वो नाटक, वो वो नाराजगी लौटा पाएं तो जाने

कभी अपने शालीन-ऐ-अंदाज़ में "मेरे साथ चलोगी" सुना पाएं तो जाने

गिरफ्त प्यार की न होती तो हम भी अहंकार-ऐ-सराबोर थे
हमारी हालत को समझ कर खुद पास आयें तो जाने
शिद्दत से बटोरा है हमने हर उस लम्हे को
उन लम्हों से खुद को छुड़ा पाएं तो जाने

रंजिशों को छोड़ हमें अपना पाएं तो जाने

221st Page of A 300 Page Autobiography

2010-09-25T09:01:00.000-07:00

And I broke into an effervescent laughter.
Wasn’t he right? Life was going to come around full circle. At 43, I had achieved milestones I had never dreamt about. The youngest Global Head in the Food&Beverages Industry was a brilliant title to possess at this juncture of my life.
A career spawning over a period of 17 years starting from my first job at XYZ International has been a completely intoxicating experience. The rapturous excitement on getting placed in Pepsi straight out of IIM makes me wonder about the valuation of happiness at various junctures of one’s life. At 24, it was about getting placed. At 30, it was about playing with my little daughter who was growing up. At 38, it was about appreciating the progressive social context that India was encapsulated in.
At 43 today, it holds a very different meaning for me. Today, happiness means feeling worthy, responsible for having a job done, and done well at that, for having achieved more than I had aimed, for having made a difference to the lives of people around me.
What more does one want out of life? An IAS husband who while reciting poetry is passionate about reforming bureaucracy and robbing it of its stigma and a daughter who doesn’t want to follow the herd into the 17th IIM inaugurated in the country but wants to start a school
Despite all this, there is something missing. A gap I need to fill in. Having changed the fortunes of the companies I worked with, I am hardly excited by the rise and fall of the share price.
I guess, it’s time to turn around. That’s why my husband laughs and calls me eccentric for now at 43 I am filling in a form yet again, like the night of 20th Sept 2010 I filled one for a company, and this time it is to get into University of Columbia to study Public Administration. Maybe we can….

मंथन

2010-07-04T07:51:00.000-07:00

क्या यह वो जगह है , जिस पर मेरी निगाह थी ?
क्या यह वो जगह है, जिस पर मैं निसार थी?
गए दिनों की सोच कर मायूसी आये इधर मेरे
आज को देखकर नयी उम्मीद भी गयी कुचल !

Affaire de Cœur

2009-11-12T04:57:00.000-08:00

A slightly chilly morning beautified by the sparkling brilliance of trees which have been washed by the downpour that happened a few minutes ago, the splendour of the water-filtered sunlight complete with winds that have got rid of their dust, marks the beginning of a new day-Today.

A rain-washed day looks sanctimonious enough to assume that we are far away from the ills of the world.
Today is such a day. You call out to me and we decide to go for a stroll. A stroll that has the twittering of birds and the mellifluous whispering of winds as company. Conversation is random, bordering more on the figments of imagination than the usual hard-core facts of worldly mundane theatricals.
You look amazingly and sincerely handsome in a spotless white chikan kurta matched only with a smile that has the magnificence of a thousand moonlit nights. You look at me and the innocence in your eyes makes my heart sing a different tune. I smile and turn around with the wind playing with the strands of my hair and your eyes playing havoc with my heart.
Silence plays hide and seek with random words, tidbits of conversation and stealthy glances. My hair flies, off and on, and then finds a cosy place to rest on your shoulder.
Sun sparkles in its magnificence and we realize it is time to go back. Back to the snug confines of an assemblage of trees, plants and flowers that we choose to call our garden. With kadak adrak ki chai, newspaper in hands, we croon softly to “karwan guzar gaya” in the background.
By and by, our foreheads crease. The smile, which danced on our lips, disappears slowly as we turn to face each other for the first time since we stepped out. Our voices raise, the volume is turned down, we get into an argument where invariably we are on the same side. It is the same story yet again.
BJP loses again only to rekindle the fire within us, only to let the affair of our hearts intensify.
Marriage has its moments.

मैं एक उन्मुक्त विहग हूँ मुझे पूरा आकाश चाहिए

2009-06-17T09:15:00.000-07:00

कहते हैं की वक़्त के पहले
किस्मत के बहार कुछ नहीं मिलता
सत्य है यह वचन शायद
वरना मनुष्य यूँही नहीं सहता

गुज़र जाते हैं वो वक़्त हालात
वह पल, वह खूबसूरत लम्हात
हाथ आकर भी जो छूट जाए
रह जाता है बस उसी का एहसास

ख़ुशी, ग़म, आरजू, या वेदना
किसी का दर्द, या किसी का बिलखना,
किसी की चेष्टा या स्वयं का प्रत्यन
हो जाते हैं वाक्यात्, सब इसी में सृजन

वर्षों तक दम तोड़ता विश्वास
आसमान को छूने की झकझोरती आस
फिर भी फिसल जाना उसका आपकी मुट्ठी से
कब तक रखेंगे इरादे मज़बूत कर के?

लोगों के तमगे, 'बदतमीजी' का एहसास
ज़बान पे लगाम, मन में दफ़न ज़ज्बात
दोस्त हो कर भी न हो, मन को बांधे रखिये
इल्जाम हमेशा एक, की आप बेरहम हैं बड़े जिद्दी

फिर अचानक समझना और समझाना
हंसी और मुस्कराहट में है फर्क गहरा
वो खेलते हुए शब्द, वो गाते हुए पल
अच्छा लगा एक लम्बे अन्तराल बाद

कुछ चीज़ें न बदले, न सावन फिर आये
वह बंद कपाट, वो ठंडे ज़ज्बात
वापस फिर उसी ओर, उसी टूटते विश्वास के पास
हो जाओ विलीन, भूल जाओ खुला आसमान
आये जब तक न कायनात तुम्हारे पास |

PS: I owe the title to a friend.

Chup hoon main

2009-05-24T06:44:00.001-07:00

Bechain hoon main, khamosh hoon main.
Aaj chup hoon, niruttar hoon main,
Kaun hai wo, kya cheez hai,
Kiya kyun aisa, stambh hoon main.

Aaj shaam jal rahi hai,
Hansi kahin kho gayi hai,
Na sur mein, na taal mein,
Na kisi hi kitaab mein,
Man mera lag raha hai,
Pareshan hoon main.

Nahin dekh sakti, in veerano ko main,
Maathe par pade in gaddhon ko main,
Kahin to kisi ne koi galti kari,
Kyun bhugte hum, ye hain uljhan badi
Usne socha tha ki ghar wo hai gayi,
Nikla arth ulta, chutti mehengi padi
Kiya yaad usne, mujhe badi samajh,
Daandhas bandhaya maine, use choti samajh,
Mann uska maine tha halka kiya,
Lekin kyun hai mann mera itna vichlit abhi?

Karoon to karoon kya, kya chilla padoon?
Man ka saare gubaar, kya aaj nikaal doon?
Soch soch ke nasein hai fatne lagi
Kuch badla nahn, sirf dekhti rahi
Aaye gaye mausam, main sochti rahi,
Ki kahin to kabhi to, ugega suraj abhi,
Hua kuch nahn, bus main khadi rahi,
Apnon ke ghamon ko badhta dekthi rahi,
Mann masosti rahi, chup main khadi rahi,
Ladi thi ek waqt pe, par aaj nahn kar saki.

Jo tootna tha, wo to bacha nhn saki,
Jo tootega abhi, wo bhi jayega yunhi
Chaknachoor hote tukdon ko uthana padega
Usmein simti hai duniya, pryatn karna padega
Koshish yahi rahegi, ki wo khush rahe,
Mann mera mar jaaye, par wo hansti rahe

Rone ka mann hai, chillane ka bhi,
Shayad ro bhi doon, akele mein kahin,
Kisi se na bol paaon, na shikwe karoon
Mook gudiya ki tarah tamasha dekthi rahoon.

Main bechain hoon, khamosh hoon main.
Aaj chup hoon, niruttar hoon main,
Har cheez hai aaj badli, aashcharyachakit na main
Umeed ke daaman to phir bhi thaami hoon main
Badlungi waqt ko kabhi, yahi sochti hoon main,
Filhaal khadi main, chup chaap hoon main!

WHY

2009-01-24T14:49:00.000-08:00

It takes birth when we are born,
Often relinquished when we die,
At times jubilant, at times forlorn
This is the whole epiphany of 'why'.

66-word Story -On The Edge Of Death

2008-07-03T07:38:00.001-07:00

Each second unendurable, each moment a lifetime. “Swinging” between life and death, he stared. The enemy glared back and inched closer. The Superiority of his position and helplessness of the victim thrilled him. Struggle for freedom proved futile.

The flame of life flickered, desperate for escape. In vain.

One final step finished the ordeal.

The web gleamed. No signs of struggle.

The spider won.

Yet Again.

Forlorn Nostalgia

2008-07-03T07:20:00.000-07:00

Absence diminishes small passions but excites great ones just as wind extinguishes a candle but fans a fire.
This is best understood in the days when one is fresh out of school.With smile on their faces but anguish in their hearts, these students make themselves ready to tackle the harsh life of college. After the first lovely and memorable phase of their life, comes the next “college” phase which reminds them that along with roses comes the thorns and why the sentence “life is not a bed of roses” adorned the school quotation board.The inevitable happens and as a result these college-goers adopt a new mantra of life:- “East or west, school life was the best.”

The corridor cacophony, the musical sound of the sound bell interrupting always at the right moment, the creative fabulists of class, the exotic merry making indulged in on announcement of somebody’s birthday, the unnerving “exam fever” afflatus sending them all to their books, the elders’ constant harangue for excellence in performance have all faded into oblivion . Can the students ever forget the sublime pleasure on seeing a substitute teacher, the silent but unanimous last ten minute countdown chant to the ringing of the school bell, the gimmicks adopted to escape teacher’s fury, the “Oscar-winning” cough to hide an unbadged sweater, the you-blink-and-you-miss it change in attitude on seeing the Principal, the “watchful” monitor who was always on the lookout of the approaching teacher and never the students, the umpteen number of alterations on a single label, the nano second transformation of a maths copy to a physics one, the straight faced promises of homework submission(tomorrow ma’am positively) to a teacher, the sly glances exchanged when a teacher committed an error and of course the endless sighs in a long and boring assembly accompanied with dramatic acts of fainting?

Never again will these students try to break down the school management machinery by trying out new escapades and contemporary fashion statements in their school uniforms.Such is the richness of school life that students pass on these tidbits of memoralabia to their college friends.What ecstasy! What rapture! The kind of excitement in junior boys playing the Cupid, carrying Shakespeare quoted Billet-doux from trendy Romeos to chic Juliets…., in school ties being used as national accomplices in chit hiding…,in the peculiarities of teacher assessed as eccentricities by self annunciated education “Google gurus”.., in the rules of the school stretched ad lib to accommodate the needs of creative students,..the exquisite bravura on display in class when asked to submit homework copies.., all are reminiscent of some great days in school.
Dei Gratia! I had some lovely school days.
Aparajita Tripathi
CMS GN(2003) batch

Paradise Lost

2008-07-01T04:57:00.000-07:00

One of the most underestimated personalities in the world is the reticent sea। She is indeed a symbol for the vast plethora of feelings we undergo. She stands for both ecstasy and despair, union and estrangement, creation and ruin, in short, the yin and yang of existence.

People throng her beaches just to gaze at this vast body of water and hear the mellifluous, stirring sounds of the tides hitting against the shore.Somewhere on the beach is a young couple enjoying a clandestine evening together, somewhere is a group of children making castles together, somewhere on the beach are families enjoying a much awaited picnic while somewhere a lone figure is walking dejectedly into the Sea....
Somewhere you hear a blushing giggle of a love struck girl, somewhere one hears a girl sniggering with friends, somewhere a lonely sob while elsewhere a cacophonic laughter.In midst of all this, one sees a solitary man sitting dolefully deep in thought. Perhaps he has lost a job; perhaps his beloved has ditched him or perhaps both. As it is, the latter often accompanies the former.
The Sea is ageless, purposeless. Hence, sometimes one finds a group of teenagers engaged in a photo session, or an old couple remembering the beginning of what was now reaching its end, or a writer trying to conjure up a masterpiece or a painter capturing one of the most breathtaking scenes.
For the rest, the Sea is nothing so romantic. She is a place for business where numerous people sell her day after day to invite people to aid their trade. She is a reusable source for daily bread for Thousands of people engaged in selling chana, chai and cigarettes.
Paradox has had his way and perhaps that’s why something so lone and solitary becomes a hope for many. But then Despair comes hand in glove with Hope. So on one side if one witnesses a castle being built by small hands, one fails to notice another being washed away asunder. If one catches a glimpse of a young couple in love, one also finds a jilted one trying to find his fault behind a failed relationship. If there are rich mothers pampering their kids, there also are kids in tatters begging or collecting shells to finance their next square meal.

The Sea also has its own story to tell or perhaps stories to narrate....Stories of jilted lovers having committed suicide, of a man having drowned himself after filing for bankruptcy, of ships having being shipwrecked or overturned spreading their riches across her, of a child who was pushed deliberately in by his envious friend, of tempestuous winds and storms, of.....But that never deters anyone from coming to witness her majestic splendor.People living in ports consider the Sea as an inherent part of their life, of everyday importance while tourists hold it as the ultimate picnicking spot and of no consequence whatsoever.
The sea therefore, is always underestimated.
But give it a chance and it can reveal the innermost feelings, however subtle. It has often been heard that the Sea never takes in anything for her but returns whatever comes inside her. Perhaps, that is why, one often finds a washed up, lone shoe, the foot having worn it washed up somewhere else. She hides secrets but only for a while and when she feels it opportune, she lays bare her chest.Mortal fools like us have failed to fathom the strength of her powers. One fails to comprehend that the sea has stood the test of time, she has seen strange things, heard peculiar conversations of gossip, of pleasure, of pain, and has come across confessions of all kinds. Confessions of guilt, of love, of sacrifice.
She brings out the submerged emotions of people, sometimes the best but most often the worst.
That day was no different. How calm the sea looked! A light drizzle and the effect was complete. “How Romantic!”, the girls shrieked with delight.
“Yeah sure, ॥”, the Sea smiled. “Wait and watch. The romance will grow.”

The drizzle turned to rain, the rain to heavy rain, and the heavy rain metamorphosised into a torrential downpour. The rain, like the unscrupulous DDT, got more concentrated at each stage of evolution. With each transformation the sea churned and squirmed and belched and convulsed into something more frightening, more terrifying. As the rain exceeded all expectations and grew more distanced from all its normal forms, it appeared that grammar might need to reinvent itself and find higher degrees of comparison than the superlative.

Groups of people started scurrying away. After all, rats are the first ones to flee the sinking ship. And as the sky grumbled and roared, the sea decided enough was enough and at the very first sight, seemed more threatening than the sky. It was a match made in heaven.
“Storm is due any moment! Run”, somebody shouted out loud.

The Sea smiled. “Not so soon honey. Wait for the fireworks.”
Gradually the rain subsided and the Sea regained her calm. The scene was too idyllic to resist. People returned to the shores saying, “How lovely!”. There was an absolute calm, no howling winds, no tempestuous winds, no tides, no storm brewing and no disturbance of any kind. But then, “That” was dangerous. A moment of absolute calm. In geography you would call it a total low pressure area. And then “it” happened.

One moment of calm, another of action. Action so immediate and so devastating that it left no scope for any survival. She did not leave anything to chance. She wanted complete destruction and ensured it. Nobody was allowed to leave her shores by those ever ebbing waves, the high tides and those overwhelming winds. Kids screamed, shouted, called out to their mums but all in vain.

The media worldwide reported it as “Tsunami”. This was its first introduction to India but countries elsewhere were already acquainted with its surprising arrivals. Tsunami, its forms, features and origins would probably make an interesting study but not here and not now. The human element is too important to ignore.
People here had never seen anything so big, so sudden, so unlike the normal sea they were used to but most importantly so devastating. High tides ebbed, overflowed and engulfed every thing that came in its way. The sea’s amoebic phagocytic movements ensured no one was spared. Living or non-living. The first things to be washed away were the very elements that ensured the camaraderie of sea: the castles, the chana and pav bhaji carts, the picnic things and of course the people who throng her shores. Like a roaring lion she sprang upon the people and gulped them down in fraction of a second. Whatever came in her way was punished.
She was reckless, brutal and her callousness manifested itself in every tide that came, went and swallowed every tidbit, every mortal, and every sign of life. She overreached herself, determined to test the bewilderment of people, outreached her strides, and overcame all efforts by men and animal alike to flee the torturous scene.
The disaster ranged from devastation to complete annihilation. The news channels were beyond happiness, they had something fantastic to report ensuring maximum TRPs. After all, the saga would continue onscreen even much later than the actual trauma had subsided. The drama would be played a million times over getting more intense and traumatic with each telecast. The effect would continue despite rescue operations in full swing, played and displayed in the anchors’ voices and body language.
The death toll kept mounting. Single figures were pretty soon converted to triple figures, although the bureaucratic machinery ensured they stayed constant a la ladies’ ages. Entire localities, islands, habitations were wiped out. The seaside resorts which had until now cashed the seaside view a million times over to rake in moolah cursed her very existence. The romantic and idyllic beaches resembled a battleground littered with corpses, where the futility of survival had manifested itself in the complete paralysis of life against the will of Nature.

Parents were clueless as to whether they should ensure their survival or hunt for their kids without hope, risking it all.
As the sea water enveloped neighbouring cities and towns, rehabilitation looked next to impossible. Curtains, clothes and linen clothed the sea water. Furniture floated as if providing seating arrangement for the numerous corpses strewn about the sea. Food, fruits, barrels of liquor were flowing in the sea. It was a Cornucopic moment. There was enough food for everyone for free and yet paradoxically, there were neither tongues to relish the taste nor stomachs which could call themselves full. .
These natural manifestations of Nature’s whims have the worst effect on animals. Nobody is bothered whether they live or die, survive or perish, and even if they manage to save themselves, nobody could care less whether they die due to lack of food or whether they are rehabilitated. They just suffer, languish and die: without hope, without rescue efforts.
Sadism prevailed and the sea smiled.“The excitement has just begun, sweethearts.”

And thence on, the destruction became too gruesome to be lettered by the humble pen. Rescue teams came and vanished down the never ending abyss which mortals call ‘sea’. She preyed on them like a hungry lion having gone without food ad infinitum. The more number of them appeared, the more disappeared.

The sea smiled yet again.“And now for some stories.”
She has always been famous for the part she had played in many stories, generally romantic, but then those were the only ones which had been highlighted. For every single couple which enjoyed a newly blossoming love on her shores, there were thousands others who had come there to either drown their sorrows or perhaps themselves. What do we know of the lives that were lost while saving others? Do we have any idea about the people who drowned themselves for want of job, love or happiness? And so there have always been stories linked with the sea.

Among the millions trapped into the jaws of death, frantically clutching at every bit of straw that came their way for support, there were many others who were perhaps confined to the spot because of love for their partners or family ties or trying to save a loved one. These people could have ensured their own survival had it not been for these relationships which often surprisingly are more valuable to them than their own skins. And this is frankly, really amazing considering that they enter and depart from this world all alone without these ties, however precious. And yet they hold on till the last moment determined to depart together as if they will be united henceforth.
Emotions!! Hah!
Gasping for breath and frantically trying to save lives of her two daughters and herself, there was a woman who was clinging onto a miserly shaft of wood. The two arms which were holding the shaft against all effort were also holding the arms of her daughters, one in each. The elder of the two, aged twelve, desperately looked around for help. She felt useless and desperate, she wanted to help her mom, but her limited, yet under-developed immature brain couldn’t think of any way. Her little sister, aged ten, was afraid beyond words.
Her tears of agony and frustration didn’t help the cause anymore than the silent suffering of her sister did.
“Gauri”,
“Yes ma”, the elder one replied.
“It’s going to be very difficult.”
“I know Ma”.”But let us hope for the best. And Ishu will you please stop crying. I am there for you beta.”

Ishu or Ishita kept her wails going notwithstanding her mother’s plea. She was the spoilt one and could afford to deteriorate bad situations beyond repair. Such luxury is often unavailable for others.

Two huge waves came, overturned all boats in the nearby areas and carried on the target set by her mother sea. By now, the mother’s arms were bruised and wounded. Hours of clinging onto a shaft and holding two quite grown up children caused fatigue to set in a wearied mind and an exhausted body. Not to mention, the realization of the futility of her efforts and a voice inside her heart which told her to quit, quite deteriorated the situation.
But hope, however irrational, springs eternal.
In spite of all roadblocks, obstacles and mental fatigue, she went on trying, trying to swim with the load, clutch nearby floating objects, attract attention of rescue parties, everything. Everything she could, she did. But even nature can be perverse. The sea is quite free from the pangs of conscience for had she been conscience stricken, she wouldn’t have allowed this to happen to a mother, the harbinger of life on earth.

“It’s now or never”, the mother thought.

The penny dropped on her. She understood the brutality of the situation and comprehended the eerie overtones associated with her circumstance. She realized that for her and at least one of her daughter’s survival she will have to sacrifice the life of the other. She knew that if she could let go just one of the hands, she could swim to the nearest boat.
Unfortunately, Darkness had already pervaded the atmosphere. Had it not been for his untimely arrival, the boatman could have helped her but the sea smiled and lo behold! her sadistic boyfriend decided to pay her a visit.
She still tried otherwise, called out to the rescue boat, but how audible is a small cry among a multitude of cries for help. The cry of a desperate mother gets submerged amidst the roaring winds, the pattering rain and the tempestuous sea.

If she could let go just one hand....just one hand...It sounded so simple to a frenzied mind. So clear. So lucid. So simple. So small. Just one hand.....

Her heart cried out, “No.....they are your daughters. Don’t do it.”

Her mind, the ever reasonable, but the ever heartless whispered in her ear, “Which one do you prefer?”
The tired mind was already becoming a little cruel, a little heartless. He kept on coaxing, “It’s either the survival of two of you or the death of all three. Which one?”

She looked from one face to the other to decide which one it would be but felt ashamed of her intentions. The mind didn’t give up. “C’mon, C’mon”
She looked at Gauri, the semblance of peace, patience, intelligence, innocence, whose eyes were glued onto her mother’s face as if trying to assess what she is thinking. The mother knew that even at this juncture the daughter was thinking about her, about whether she could help her. She was a mother’s daughter, a true daughter.
On the other side was Ishita, her mirror image, her loved one. She was naughty, playful, and impish. She was what all childhood was about. Gauri had been a little mature for her age, understanding, not demanding, not complaining and patient. Her mother had sometimes resented this fact. Of all the virtues which go unnoticed, these were the few.

She looked again. The girls oblivious of what their mother’s tired mind was plotting kept looking at their mother with hope. Perhaps, it’s a little cruel to call it plotting but then in an absolute situation, there is no other word for it. Here, it may be pardoned. She looked again at them, unable to decide. Trying to weigh the merits of one against the other, she suddenly realized that the situation had made her so callous. After all, what was she doing? Measuring the worth of her children? Measuring?

The mind persisted.
“Quick!” he said. “You are running out of time.”

“Oh no! Sweetie, take your time. We have plenty at hand for a little drama.” the sea smiled sadistically.

Ishita was good looking, playful, enigmatic, and childish. Yet there were often complaints against her, against her famous tempers, against her whimsical behaviour. She was unnecessarily vain for a ten year old. She often fought with her mother. Even her grades weren’t good enough.

“Grades? Now I am comparing grades? Oh what is it that it has come to this”. And yet she continued. Gauri was a daughter who would make any mother proud. Sensitive and mature for her age, she was blessed with a quick mind, a helping nature and a genial personality. She was good in school, with good grades and often winning a debate or two. Her mother often depended on her to take care of little chores that included looking after her sister.

The comparison went on. Alas! There are times when even mothers have to do this. Measure, compare and evaluate nature, grades, complexion, beauty, usability value,.....

The sea, quite resembling the queen of destruction, was becoming impatient. “She is taking too long,” she complained. “It’s time she made the decision. Well, why don’t I help her just a teensy weensy bit??”

And then occurred the wildest moment of the entire tempest, when the winds howled determined to break down every thing that came its way, when the squirming of the sea waves sent the rescue teams scurrying back for their own safety, when thousands of people gave up the ‘Eternal’ Hope to surrender meekly to the queen.

It was then she took the decision. When the winds and waves bellowed and thundered about her ears, she knew time was a dying patient gasping for the last dregs of air. Apparently she wasn’t able to choose even when she had time at hand and the moment she realized she hadn’t any time, it didn’t even take her a second. It was as quick as a lightning bolt. She looked intently at her daughter, the sacrificial goat at the altar, offered to the sea in return for and her other daughter’s life.

And at that moment, the girl knew as if by Divine Providence that her darling mother had not-so-honorable thoughts.The grip on one arm tightened for action.
The grip on the other loosened. It was now or never.

The action was as swift and immediate as the thought.
In the fraction of a second the mother let go of the child.

“I am sorry, Gauri. I had to.”

In the infinitesimal time she had before being swallowed by the waves, she stared at her mom with a pathetic questioning look as if saying, ‘why me, ma?’

Suddenly, deprived of all humanity in that second, in the acceptance of her guilt and in the realization of the ruthlessness of her action, she couldn’t lie to her daughter. She said simply even as the daughter went down never to return, “You were ......”. The words drowned as Gauri became unknown to the mortal world, but not before she heard the final verdict.

Shamefaced and unable to look at her own reflection in the water, she nevertheless swam towards the boat crying and shouting herself hoarse, “We are here, we are alive.”The last word echoed like the sound of a tight slap. She was alive because someone else was dying. And that someone else happened to be her daughter.

There is perhaps no difference in a rock or a body when it goes down. The journey is the same, the obstacles are the same, and the bottom is the same. Both land with a thud, both are scrutinized by curious fishes and members of the aquatic world, and both lie on the sea bed never again to return to the surface.

Yet the prominent difference between a living body and a rock is perhaps the body’s share of reminiscences. Although the journey down hardly takes more than a few minutes coupled with some more minutes when the body struggled to prevent itself from drowning, yet the memories that haunt the body are perhaps of an entire lifetime. No doubt, O’ Henry pointed out in Cactus, that time is so purely relative in each case. And so did she. She concentrated on reviewing her life albeit a small one which ended even before it had begun to take shape. She remembered those times when she felt odd and different from her sister, even jealous. After all, wasn’t her sister a true reflection of her mother---and she realized with horror, her stepmother---and her was she with not even an idiosyncrasy which matched. The differences didn’t end with the looks. There was more to it. On the face of it, there was hardly a doubt that her mother treated both equally. People praised her mother for the lavishness and equality with which she dealt with both her daughters. Only in the hearts of her heart she felt, it was not so. Each time her mother handed something to her, she felt it was because of a sense of duty rather than love. Although the expression underwent a complete change when it was Ishu. However spoilt, or ill-mannered she was, it was tolerated. Yet for her, she felt her mother resented her presence. Nobody could point it out blatantly but there was she who had felt it every second of her life. She felt her mother stiffen when she tried hugging her.

And in her final moments, her sudden-matured mind questioned why it was all so. Was birth so important that despite everything she got, she still lived like and was dying like an orphan?

The fishes kept themselves amused, waiting for her to die.

She looked around for answers. Strangely enough, in the last minute of her life, there wasn’t any memory that she remembered or for that matter, any person, any incident.
Her heart was at ease. It had forgiven her mother out of gratitude.

All she could remember was a line she had read somewhere in a story, “Blood is blood, however impure.”
Her paradise was lost, never to be regained.
And the sea smiled.