Well, I am back to blogging again after a hiatus of more than a year or so. The truth be told, I did not want to come back, didn't want to yield to the creative urges, didn't want to get out of my depressed state. I was depressed. I was hopelessly mired in regressive, hopeless, stupid thoughts, so much so that at one point of time, I had even planned to quit and to leave this world, leave its people who are so foolish, so small minded, so plastic. Oh, for the love of one truly heeled person, someone with some wit and charm of his/her own, some one with some really bright idea of his/her own. And then I believe the thought simply came to me -- if you can't find any such person, why not become one yourself? Why keep looking to others to step up? Why not move on?
So, back to my own place, where I can safely type in everything that I want to type in :-)
no one to read, to comment, to judge, to criticize. this space is truly my own, to write what I want to write.
And I am going to go back to my original love. I will start writing stories, my own stories.
The Fog
When Prakash stepped out of his house to get some milk, he had known how cold it would be outside. It was a very very cold winter evening in Delhi and there was no one on the road. He had just moved to his new apartment. It was on the outskirts of Delhi. He could look at the stretch of fields starting just outside the complex. He had not seen such huge empty space since long. Delhi has been overcrowded, but the Bawana village was still a village and Time has stood still for them.
The first thing that Prakash felt was cold air, and he shivered in his jacket. The second thing he noticed was that a white curtain had filled all spaces. The evening was foggy and the fog had permeated every nook and corner. Those empty stretches of field were now owned by the fog. Stumbling on the road, Prakash turned left to go to the shop located inside the complex. But when he reached it, he realized that the shop was closed. The fog had thickened by now. There was absolutely no sound other than the sound his shoes made on the tarmac. Prakash turned back and kept following the long curving road which he knew took him first towards the canteen, now deserted with the chairs unoccupied, frozen and then towards the back of the building D2, and finally leading him to the main gate. The gate was locked of course, but the side door was still open and the fog was a little less hazy over here, mainly because the space was constrained here. The fog had lost out here, but like a licked enemy, it was waiting for its chance, hanging around. Prakash walked out and saw that the kirana store was open. After buying the milk and eggs and bread, he started back. He could have taken the same way back but it was long and he was feeling very cold now, so he decided to head for the path between D1 and D2 blocks which will lead him to the garden and then a left would have taken him directly to the steps of his B1 block.
He was able to find the path easily. Some 5 steps on it and the main gate was hidden behind a solid wall of white fog. He could not even see the lamp post now. The fog was making it difficult to breathe. The cold air hit his lungs and he doubled up every time he dragged the fog in his lungs. He was blindly stumbling now. The only thought running in his head was to reach the end of the path so that he could reach the garden. He went right into the gentleman who was walking towards him. The fog and the fact that he was concentrating only on the path led to the mishap. His nose must have been hurt because even though it was very cold, he could feel the stinging sensation. The other person was completely knocked out and was now lying on his back. At first Prakash thought the guy had fainted but then a groan escaped him and Prakash gave him hand and made him sit.
"I am so awfully sorry, sir. Was not looking ahead."
"no, young man, it was my mistake." And then the old man groaned again. He must have hurt his hips or something because the moment he tried to stand up, he yelped and his legs caved in again. This time, Prakash hauled him to his feet and even though he was in pain, the old man stood and moved gingerly. Satisfied that he had not broken any bones, he looked at Prakash.
"oho, I think your nose is bleeding."
Prakash touched his nose and felt the warm gooey blood. He had not felt the blood till then, but now he saw it in the pale light under the lamp post, with white curtains all around it, above it.
He took out his hankerchief and pressed it forcibly on the wound and said through it :
"I need to go home now. I will check it there."
"Which block do you live in?"
"B1"
"hmmm, I think you took a wrong turn. for B1, you need to go back and hit the main road"
"no, there is a way from here. from the garden, you take a left"
"I am coming from the this way. This is a dead end".
Prakash was surprised. The old man must have been mistaken. It was true that he had moved in some 2 weeks back, but he had walked on that path. He knew the way.
The old man then looked at his watch.
"sorry but I need to head that way. coming along?"
"no sir, i will go this way only".
"ok, suit yourself. bye"
"bye"
Prakash turned towards the garden and then realized that the lamp posts were not working . The only light that he could see was under this lamp post. The others were either not working or had not been switched on. It was so cold, maybe the person in charge did not move out. He took 2 steps and found himself right in the middle of the fog. The fog was swirling now, enveloping him from all around, sticking to his clothes and leaving behind a tiny layer of water. His jacket was wet now, as was his jeans. He took 3 steps more and suddenly realized that he was blind. He could not see anything now. The fog had hidden the path, had hidden the buildings. He looked back and realized that all he could see was thick white blanket of fog. All around him the fog danced and nothing could be seen through it. For a second, Prakash panicked. Where was the old man now? He could not even hear his footsteps. He realized that when he had gone headlong into him he had not heard him that time too. He put his foot down and the twig crushed under his foot crackled through the fog. There was not even one ripple seen on the foggy curtain though. Why did not he hear that old man walk? He took some more steps and then stopped again. This was rather foolish of him. He was now trembling and he could not just keep on starting and stopping. So he bent his head and started walking on. He counted till 50 steps and then started wondering about the garden wall. He should have reached the wall now. It was not that far away. He was confused now. He took another 50 steps and then realized that he was hopelessly lost. He quit the path and started moving towards what should have a building, either D1 or D2. But he walked for another 100 steps and he realized that instead of building, he had reached a tree, a huge tree. When he trod on its huge roots, which had come to the surface, and stumbled badly against it, he fell right on its thick trunk. The bark was hard and cold and he hurt his knuckles. It was a very big tree, very old tree and it was deathly quiet here. The fog had embraced its each leaf, its each branch and thus it stood, completely hidden by fog. Prakash could not remember such a tree in his 2 weeks of stay. Where was he? He looked around, trying to find some lamp post light but the fog was hiding it all. The wind was getting stronger but the fog was determined too. Everytime, the wind would blow some fog away, some more would rush in and the only thing Prakash saw was white fog all around him.
Standing beside the tree, Prakash tried very hard to stop panicking. He was not a very brave man and this sudden turn of events made him very fearful. He tried to shout but his first two or three tries were more like croaks. "help" he shouted but the voice did not even breach the fog around the tree. He shouted again and again and by sixth time, he was fairly bellowing. "help" the sound would emanate from him and ricochet from the foggy wall and drown the very person who was shouting. When he was out of breath, Prakash noted miserably that his cries had not brought any angel. Heck, it had not brought even a person. No one would want to step out in such weather. He must keep on trying. The thought kept gaining strength in his mind. He must keep on trying. Where can he be? He must still be inside the complex. He was not near any boundary wall. He decided to choose any direction and keep on walking till he found something or someone.
He kept walking in one direction. The twigs and dried leaves kept getting crushed. The noise deafened him. How can no one notice this din? The path kept getting worse. The road was broken here. He was now stumbling from one pot hole to another. He would get pebbles and small stones under his shoes. And then he realized that the road was getting wider, that he was going downhill. He kept walking and then finally saw a light gleam out. The fog could not hide it. He was transfixed by that light. He kept his eye on it. The light would gleam and then get hidden, like the fog was kicking away the light rays from reaching his eyes. But all that it tried, it finally failed. Prakash could finally see some people huddling around fire. He almost started running, lost his balance a couple of times, got scratches on his hand and his legs, but he kept running.
When he finally reached the group. he was almost delirious. They were all huddled together, like they were one being, all of them facing the fire. But when they heard some footsteps, they turned around and found him stumbling towards them, they turned right back towards the fire, completely ignoring him. Prakash did not care. He had been walking for almost an hour and he had finally found some help. He would be home very soon.
"bhaiya, ye B1 block kidhar hoga?"
No one answered. They were all looking at fire. And then Prakash felt something strange about the group. Their faces were mixes of shadows and light falling from the fire. He could not make out any face at all. Like they were there and they were not.
"bhaiya, suno to" He touched the shoulder of one person.
"uff, it is very cold today" was what that person said to his neighbor. His neighbor did not reply back.
Prakash was angry now. How can these uncouth, uneducated villagers ignore him like this?
He pushed harder and his voice grew firmer
"i am talking to you, why don't you listen?"
He shook that man's shoulder. The man was scared now as were others around him. They all looked at Prakash and Prakash saw some very scared faces, not looking at him, but through him, behind him, at the fog.
Someone tugged at Prakash's hand. He turned around and saw the old man. He was smiling tenderly.
"Come with me. I will explain."
Prakash walked with him and when he looked behind, the villagers were all huddled together again.
The more he walked, the thicker the fog grew. It was not between the two travelers. When they had walked for some 5 minutes, Prakash broke his silence.
"what is happening? where am i?"
"You are in the fog, Prakash. You have to choose what would you want to do?"
---------------
more in the next blog :-) :-) :-)
So, back to my own place, where I can safely type in everything that I want to type in :-)
no one to read, to comment, to judge, to criticize. this space is truly my own, to write what I want to write.
And I am going to go back to my original love. I will start writing stories, my own stories.
The Fog
When Prakash stepped out of his house to get some milk, he had known how cold it would be outside. It was a very very cold winter evening in Delhi and there was no one on the road. He had just moved to his new apartment. It was on the outskirts of Delhi. He could look at the stretch of fields starting just outside the complex. He had not seen such huge empty space since long. Delhi has been overcrowded, but the Bawana village was still a village and Time has stood still for them.
The first thing that Prakash felt was cold air, and he shivered in his jacket. The second thing he noticed was that a white curtain had filled all spaces. The evening was foggy and the fog had permeated every nook and corner. Those empty stretches of field were now owned by the fog. Stumbling on the road, Prakash turned left to go to the shop located inside the complex. But when he reached it, he realized that the shop was closed. The fog had thickened by now. There was absolutely no sound other than the sound his shoes made on the tarmac. Prakash turned back and kept following the long curving road which he knew took him first towards the canteen, now deserted with the chairs unoccupied, frozen and then towards the back of the building D2, and finally leading him to the main gate. The gate was locked of course, but the side door was still open and the fog was a little less hazy over here, mainly because the space was constrained here. The fog had lost out here, but like a licked enemy, it was waiting for its chance, hanging around. Prakash walked out and saw that the kirana store was open. After buying the milk and eggs and bread, he started back. He could have taken the same way back but it was long and he was feeling very cold now, so he decided to head for the path between D1 and D2 blocks which will lead him to the garden and then a left would have taken him directly to the steps of his B1 block.
He was able to find the path easily. Some 5 steps on it and the main gate was hidden behind a solid wall of white fog. He could not even see the lamp post now. The fog was making it difficult to breathe. The cold air hit his lungs and he doubled up every time he dragged the fog in his lungs. He was blindly stumbling now. The only thought running in his head was to reach the end of the path so that he could reach the garden. He went right into the gentleman who was walking towards him. The fog and the fact that he was concentrating only on the path led to the mishap. His nose must have been hurt because even though it was very cold, he could feel the stinging sensation. The other person was completely knocked out and was now lying on his back. At first Prakash thought the guy had fainted but then a groan escaped him and Prakash gave him hand and made him sit.
"I am so awfully sorry, sir. Was not looking ahead."
"no, young man, it was my mistake." And then the old man groaned again. He must have hurt his hips or something because the moment he tried to stand up, he yelped and his legs caved in again. This time, Prakash hauled him to his feet and even though he was in pain, the old man stood and moved gingerly. Satisfied that he had not broken any bones, he looked at Prakash.
"oho, I think your nose is bleeding."
Prakash touched his nose and felt the warm gooey blood. He had not felt the blood till then, but now he saw it in the pale light under the lamp post, with white curtains all around it, above it.
He took out his hankerchief and pressed it forcibly on the wound and said through it :
"I need to go home now. I will check it there."
"Which block do you live in?"
"B1"
"hmmm, I think you took a wrong turn. for B1, you need to go back and hit the main road"
"no, there is a way from here. from the garden, you take a left"
"I am coming from the this way. This is a dead end".
Prakash was surprised. The old man must have been mistaken. It was true that he had moved in some 2 weeks back, but he had walked on that path. He knew the way.
The old man then looked at his watch.
"sorry but I need to head that way. coming along?"
"no sir, i will go this way only".
"ok, suit yourself. bye"
"bye"
Prakash turned towards the garden and then realized that the lamp posts were not working . The only light that he could see was under this lamp post. The others were either not working or had not been switched on. It was so cold, maybe the person in charge did not move out. He took 2 steps and found himself right in the middle of the fog. The fog was swirling now, enveloping him from all around, sticking to his clothes and leaving behind a tiny layer of water. His jacket was wet now, as was his jeans. He took 3 steps more and suddenly realized that he was blind. He could not see anything now. The fog had hidden the path, had hidden the buildings. He looked back and realized that all he could see was thick white blanket of fog. All around him the fog danced and nothing could be seen through it. For a second, Prakash panicked. Where was the old man now? He could not even hear his footsteps. He realized that when he had gone headlong into him he had not heard him that time too. He put his foot down and the twig crushed under his foot crackled through the fog. There was not even one ripple seen on the foggy curtain though. Why did not he hear that old man walk? He took some more steps and then stopped again. This was rather foolish of him. He was now trembling and he could not just keep on starting and stopping. So he bent his head and started walking on. He counted till 50 steps and then started wondering about the garden wall. He should have reached the wall now. It was not that far away. He was confused now. He took another 50 steps and then realized that he was hopelessly lost. He quit the path and started moving towards what should have a building, either D1 or D2. But he walked for another 100 steps and he realized that instead of building, he had reached a tree, a huge tree. When he trod on its huge roots, which had come to the surface, and stumbled badly against it, he fell right on its thick trunk. The bark was hard and cold and he hurt his knuckles. It was a very big tree, very old tree and it was deathly quiet here. The fog had embraced its each leaf, its each branch and thus it stood, completely hidden by fog. Prakash could not remember such a tree in his 2 weeks of stay. Where was he? He looked around, trying to find some lamp post light but the fog was hiding it all. The wind was getting stronger but the fog was determined too. Everytime, the wind would blow some fog away, some more would rush in and the only thing Prakash saw was white fog all around him.
Standing beside the tree, Prakash tried very hard to stop panicking. He was not a very brave man and this sudden turn of events made him very fearful. He tried to shout but his first two or three tries were more like croaks. "help" he shouted but the voice did not even breach the fog around the tree. He shouted again and again and by sixth time, he was fairly bellowing. "help" the sound would emanate from him and ricochet from the foggy wall and drown the very person who was shouting. When he was out of breath, Prakash noted miserably that his cries had not brought any angel. Heck, it had not brought even a person. No one would want to step out in such weather. He must keep on trying. The thought kept gaining strength in his mind. He must keep on trying. Where can he be? He must still be inside the complex. He was not near any boundary wall. He decided to choose any direction and keep on walking till he found something or someone.
He kept walking in one direction. The twigs and dried leaves kept getting crushed. The noise deafened him. How can no one notice this din? The path kept getting worse. The road was broken here. He was now stumbling from one pot hole to another. He would get pebbles and small stones under his shoes. And then he realized that the road was getting wider, that he was going downhill. He kept walking and then finally saw a light gleam out. The fog could not hide it. He was transfixed by that light. He kept his eye on it. The light would gleam and then get hidden, like the fog was kicking away the light rays from reaching his eyes. But all that it tried, it finally failed. Prakash could finally see some people huddling around fire. He almost started running, lost his balance a couple of times, got scratches on his hand and his legs, but he kept running.
When he finally reached the group. he was almost delirious. They were all huddled together, like they were one being, all of them facing the fire. But when they heard some footsteps, they turned around and found him stumbling towards them, they turned right back towards the fire, completely ignoring him. Prakash did not care. He had been walking for almost an hour and he had finally found some help. He would be home very soon.
"bhaiya, ye B1 block kidhar hoga?"
No one answered. They were all looking at fire. And then Prakash felt something strange about the group. Their faces were mixes of shadows and light falling from the fire. He could not make out any face at all. Like they were there and they were not.
"bhaiya, suno to" He touched the shoulder of one person.
"uff, it is very cold today" was what that person said to his neighbor. His neighbor did not reply back.
Prakash was angry now. How can these uncouth, uneducated villagers ignore him like this?
He pushed harder and his voice grew firmer
"i am talking to you, why don't you listen?"
He shook that man's shoulder. The man was scared now as were others around him. They all looked at Prakash and Prakash saw some very scared faces, not looking at him, but through him, behind him, at the fog.
Someone tugged at Prakash's hand. He turned around and saw the old man. He was smiling tenderly.
"Come with me. I will explain."
Prakash walked with him and when he looked behind, the villagers were all huddled together again.
The more he walked, the thicker the fog grew. It was not between the two travelers. When they had walked for some 5 minutes, Prakash broke his silence.
"what is happening? where am i?"
"You are in the fog, Prakash. You have to choose what would you want to do?"
---------------
more in the next blog :-) :-) :-)
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