Novel Begins....Chapter 1

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The bell rang, tunefully, for 12 of night in a twelve-tone music and 12 of my blue face shifted to another new day. As every other midnight, half Delhi was slumbering with semi open eyes and rest half was hyper active to fetch handsome remuneration at the end of month and I was still trying to puzzle out “How to sleep with sleepless eyes or how to make earning nights?” Everyone was relishing the dark of night by their way and I was washing off the dark of night with sempiternal tears just to sense the reviving bright darkness, I was purblind to.
The daylong night and nightlong dark had enclosed my every flying ambition in its light-tight envelope. I was embedded between my software less mind and hardware less heart. From the past few months, mounting deafening silence was trying to beat my heart-beats; the darkening day was trying to make me stone-blind and the sobbing nights had emptied my tear-well, enough to reveal my plight. I had lost myself somewhere in me, the biggest loser of all times if compared. “Night and plight” I saw wherever and whenever I looked. What’s the pain of mindless heart and heartless mind I had come to know? Every expectation was vanishing in a puff of unexpected smoke. But struggle thy name is life and so I was struggling for life, helplessly.
Whenever I find myself in soot black, I recall Mama’s vital saying to revive lost myself in me…
“Whether the hundred rupee note is crisped or crumpled, it will always remain front-runner in the trade race. Despite valid change in the physical attributes of the currency note, its intrinsic value doesn’t get change. Similarly, whatever may be the situation in thy life, always retain your intrinsic merit to circulate in this mundane maze.”
But to my surprise, for the first time I got totally deadlocked in the maze, irrespective of HER key saying. God was the only programmer left who could now debug my mental software and so I was trying to draw HIS efficacious attention.
‘God, please take me out of this jet black,’ begged I, whispering with dry throat and wet eyes. ‘Lord, please open your eyes before its too late and winnow this bad time or call me up,’ supplicated I, sobbingly and wiped nose and eyes on the upper part of sleeve.
After this short and mournful supplication, I bottled up remaining stock-still tears and opened Diary to pour the Lava erupting inside mind cells and heart chambers…somehow trying to settle down the view war via writing…
“The time lettin me
Into a dark shade
I'm gettin myself
In a maze to fade
Seconds goin as
To let me freeze
I'm fallin Under Pressure
And about to cease
I'd never thought
This way before
Because Life is gettin Hard
And I’m feelin it too sour

Is it a Reality?
Or An Illusion
Is it a problem?
Or a solution
Oh You! Please
Temme what is it?
For me it’s a wide-cut Confusion?

The Things Goin On
Staidly, wrong.
And I’m all alone to bear
The sound of Tear
Hangin Upside Down
Lost the sound
Muteness step away
Will have no words to say
So I’m writin
That someday someway
You will get what I wanna say.

Is it a Reality...?”



I checked the grammar, fully raised to slang due to inordinate chatting and sms, be concise else pay twice. But one who writes has a deep pain inside and to write is the best remedy to regain melody, and so I was trying to regain. Suddenly the mobile crisply ranged ‘In the end’ from Linkin Park, the best to hold my current views, slicing up the deafening silence.
‘Hello,’ I uttered, artistically doffing the current ho-hum.
‘Hi son, how are you?’ a baby voice nudged my head.
‘Sorry, who’s this?’ asked I in apathy.
‘You bumble-bee, eroded me as dust?’ complained he. ‘Amnesic, I’m Somesh. What’s up?’ said he in gusto.
‘Oh, hi Chink! How you doing?’ replied I. ‘In India or in Germany?’ said I, fervently. His virtual presence stamped down the escalating agony.
Well Somesh, single always ready to mingle, is 154cms little magic but real big benefactor of mine, with equally proportioned hands and legs; face resembles an engraved egg with eyes trying to open up and tiny red nose trying to get flattened, all anatomy parts looked as assembled from Japan, Korea, Taipei like a pc and finally stamped made in China. In his right brain nothing is right except girls and in left part nothing is left except girls, crazy about girls as crazy-ball, bouncing back and forth behind them with gifts as sugar-daddy. He has open-circuited his cardiac valve for 24 girls till date but the girls short-circuited it as their arteries got calibrated with other 24 but taller than Somesh and decorously advised him that he will look dashy in spike heels and so, ultimately in anguish, he joined “One Side Love” community in Orkut.
‘I’m not a Chink, moron. Halt this query LMG,’ said Somesh, interrupting me. ‘Anyways I’m fit as my denims, thick and pink as Ketchup, what about you?’ replied Somesh, childishly.
‘About you…?’ every time sounded as a blade to lance nerves but this time as a sweet bitter symphony. Bitter, because I didn’t have the appropriate answer and sweet, because he knew my answer.
‘All’s cut-and-dried. I’m trying to calm down my nerves; you know my edginess’ said I, profoundly.
‘C’mon, give it the deep six,’ said Somesh, mawkishly.
‘…Deep six, Hun! Here I’m suspiring even for ones and twos,’ thought I.
‘Anyways I’m in India,’ said Somesh, surprising me.
‘Really, spit the truth buddy,’ exclaimed I in ardour.
‘Believe it or not,’ said Somesh, laughing. ‘Anyways what do you think about tomorrow?’
‘To massacre your heavy pocket,’ said I.
‘Arrangements should be top-notch from scrumptious lunch to vino soiree,’ dictated I, dropping the discomfiture. “Bottle”, perfect wonder drug in every situation, in good take to celebrate and in sorrow to cerebrate.
‘Pull off your gunfire, baby. First do come, man. No excuses and No fables, understand,’ laughed Somesh as he knew that I’m good in making believing fantasies.
‘Already All lash-ups for a vodka-bath,’ said Somesh, underscoring more on vodka-bath.
‘Vodka-bath… sounds funny but not fake,’ said I. A dipsomaniac can know the contentment in Vodka-bath, not those who prefer sauna.
‘Hmm... Anyways I will wait for you, ok. Bye and take care, brother,’ finished Somesh his electronic guest appearance but enough to pull my sapless lips. ‘Sweet Dreams.’
‘Ok, see you tomorrow, bye,’ I greeted. ‘Good night.’
The soothing confab finally came to end and I instantly plunged on the bed, forcing all unexhausted poignancies miles away as I had to meet the German well-wisher on Vodka-tub next day.