Crap

The little girl never really sat on the rock, instead, wandered about, along the shore of the mighty Bramhaputra. She searched for shiny pebbles, or for twigs that floated ashore, or simply played about with her frock or the twirls in her hair, as she spent her days in the company of what-ever suited her best. Sometimes she came-by along-with a boy, sometimes, with a pet, and oft, by herself.

The rock – he had weathered the river for ages, and watched as the river flooded, and consumed all that came under its swell. The rock knew that he too, would soon be gone; lost in the waters of the world forever. The girl would forever remember the rock, even as she would grow into a fine young woman, go along her way, and travel the globe, unto newer shores, and greener pastures.

The girl was a dreamer. And nothing consumed her more thoroughly than planning her wedding. She was a pretty, dainty lass, one of the few that came by the shore. Naturally, she was doted upon by many; those who came upon the beautiful lands, from places afar. The lands – yes. Legend had it that a magical lore nested in these ancient lands, and blossomed along the river’s shores, for the young to wrestle success and wisdom from.

Her heart quivered, and forever did her decisions elude her. Many a boys’ offer did she accede to, only to let her emotions crumble away soon-after. Maybe she was as naive, as fickle, as those that searched the shores for wisdom-not-to-be. Maybe she was just normal, thought the rock, as he silently watched her from his bed by the waves, upon the shore that she had grown to call her own.

For long, in her solitude, or in her wallow, had the girl shared her life with the rock. And indeed, the rock had done so too. For, if there was magic in these lands, it was thus – unto those that swayed not to selfish greed, it was the rocks that, erstwhile inanimate, came to life. Not the sands, not the flowers, not the waters that the boys scavenged – the wisdom lay embedded in the rocks that none otherwise glanced upon.

Secrets that none-else knew of, or even vagaries that none would have bothered unto, flowed seamlessly between them. Sometimes, she lent an ear to his melancholy; something that the rock otherwise withheld in abundance. More oft, there were smiles, there were laughs, and there were pleasures that their conversations lent to their lives. Above all, they were friends. And, thus, the wisdom was for her to own. For, unlike her lovers, her innocence never bore want to steal the rock’s wisdom; thus-with, only she could own it.

She mused, and did so aloud at-times, as she straddled along her shore. She oft-wondered, as to why the river hadn’t flood her shore for so long. Every year the river swelled, ever to bring death and destruction, to henceforth usher in new life – her shore, however, lay unspoilt to the ravages of time. But the rock remanined silent, in-pretense unknowing, never moved by her playful queries, although he knew the of river’s ways.

One day, as the clouds rolled in, she came by with tears in her eyes. It was not unlike her, to be disraught thus. The rock prodded in-caution, urging her to share her grief, only to be shunned away as froth. She was human, after-all – her grief consumed her, and weighed down on her frailties. She felt as though the world conspired against her, and brought upon her such pain. She sought not another’s company, and forsook her friend unto solitude. Her self consumed her, making her believe that she alone, could part her from her grief.

When she came to herself, few days hence, she made her way again to her shore, in calm and composure. Alas, she saw, that the river had flood, and her shore had been lost. Whence lay her rock, whence swept the waves the gleaming sand, now turned to silt flowed within the swollen tide. The rock, in all it’s grime, was nowhere to be found. Her shore was lost, never to be her’s again.

And as she sulked, she wondered. Had the friendship she’d estranged been the very magic that her shore had once thrived upon?

This piece appeared in the Sans Frontiers magazine published by Umang, a festival organised by the NM College of Commerce and Economics, Bombay, in August 2009.

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We had a movie marathon today (more like, yesternight). A bunch’o friends. Doing nothing. And everything. It’s just beautiful the way you can watch a perfectly hopeless movie, and even laugh at completely bland humour, jus ‘coz the guy sitting beside you laughs.

Everyone’s clustered onto a tiny bed, no matter the fact that some of them might not have bathed for a period that spanned a fair bit more than a couple’o days. The way their bodies intertwine to accommodate both, the multitude of people, and the magnitude of the people, onto the dimensions of the bed, is just remarkable. I figure that’s what sets us apart as IITians – finding a perfect solution in times of dire need. :)

One guy has seen the movie before, so it’s pretty obvious why some of us have brought along scotch-tape. Only once he’s secured, does the movie begin. A 17″ Sony Vaio, supplemented with the tiniest of speakers, turned onto full volume in a 10×10 room, and all doors, windows sealed into complete darkness (room fresheners kept at hand).

Well, i must admit, a description of the comments passed during the screening (even though the movies were – in my opinion – perfectly U-rated), might cause this blog to get flagged.

Aa well…

Preceding any scene of note, the guy who’s gagged whimpers, (and trust me, we take due pleasure in making sure he doesn’t whimper again!) and then everyone begins to go into what i call ‘the mood’. Even the smallest scenes of note leading up to the climax draw immense adulation, and the littlest of humour results in a communal uproar.

The whole time, the screening is provided a background score, which is pretty simple really, but amazingly apt – an otherwise monotonous slow repetition of b*@&^!$od, with the term spanning exactly 1.2 seconds, with 3.6 seconds until the next recitation.

Yes, i don’t enjoy swears, but you gotta admit, when you’re with a bunch’o people, and if the guy can perform the recitation right, it really does add to the mood. All in good humour, eh?

O ya, then comes the climax. Well, the expressions of that moment are strictly censored. But yes, it still is amazing how everyone twists and turns and essentially ‘rolls in laughter’ and then the whole assembly falls back into place in the exact same configuration as before. I figure that’s an IIT-thing again; devise an arrangement in stable equilibrium, so that it returns to its virgin state no matter how much the turbulence.

Yes, there’s also the thing that the gagged-guy has been made to disappear completely in the intermittent span of uninhibited chaos : Given his magnitude, that goes a long way in aiding the return to stability.

I wonder what they did to him…

O yes, popcorn is a little hard to come by, but an assembly of maggi, cold coffee, biscuits, chocolates and sandwiches, more than makes up for it. And as i said, even the most hopeless of humour draws out laughs, simply because someone passes a witty comment. And the deathly silence that greets mushy scenes just goes to show how much we love good cinema.

Anyway, as the marathon draws to a close, and the weariness brought on by 4 movies end-to-end begins to express itself, everyone slugs off to their respective rooms; some are incapable of doing that, and we let them sleep. Ya, we make sure that we’ve clicked enough pictures of them, ‘coz they were sleeping in postures that’d put Gaylord Focker’s mother to shame.

Yes, Meet the Fockers was one of the movies. It’s prequel was one too. I’m sorry, i’m too intoxicated with the sandman’s stuff to recollect the other names.

Friendship, today, is none but a hollow term. Whatever little i had begun to believe in friendship, now stands shattered. I’d always known that people are plain selfish: things that latch onto you guised as friends, and from beneath that visage, suck out all you have to offer, leaving you hollow, and lost. Lonely.

Hence i walk alone. It’s a lot more fun to know that everyone you believe in (read: yourself) will stand by you no matter what. I’ve stopped believing that others possess the ability to stand by me the way that i have always stood by them. It feels a bit quirky to hate everyone, but then its also immensely satisfying to know that there is no one half as human as yourself.

I can only thank my dear friends for always being there for me, and reinforcing the fact that they are all plain pointless, as far as my aspirations are concerned. Pity they’ll never know what i aspire to do. Or else, they’d stick to me even more, ready to suck out all they can from my future even.

Yes, there are a couple of people, for whose sake, i often begin to reassess this belief of mine. And i love them for it.

I knew nothing. Whether acquaintances, friends, buds, or elsewhat. But everytime i’d seen them pass by me, i’d smiled. And they’d smiled back. I’d made-believe that they were friends, no matter what people told me, no matter what it may have actually been. Coz i’d hoped that’d i’d someday possess a friendship, such as the one i believed they had.

My walks, i like to hope so, have come to an end. I just hope theirs’ don’t.