Karma Tonic: Chapter 5: A Voice of Water

Trivia: Kalpana’s mother died when she was yet to season from her teenage. Being the only daughter, she was left with none, but her father who had actually lived his life with a soft heart, which needed someone always. Hence, he remarried, and Kalpana got a step mother, for a cause.

It was the prideful morning of Republic day, Jan 26, two days after her birthday. The morning was bright & sunny, as if the last drops of mist were leaving the coast. Another day to begin her 23 years of life, free thoughts, free dreams but her realms were struggling to break the sharp fringes of autonomy that her step mother Jiya ran in the house. Kalpana didn’t mind entertaining people, even if they are the ones responsible for her losses. She considered herself a stronger person, and patient.  All I have to do is tie a life-jacket around my chest & jump ‘HOLA’! They all planned another belated birthday celebration: which means another mannequinnic Kalpana rising outta her road-maniac look. In short, she dressed up and not to forget the fake smile that she bought from the weekend sale, to make her people happy. Although, she was fed up of dreaming, she was fed up of cutting fake giggles and serving as apples, she was fed up of thirst till her tongue turned white, she wanted to break free, but the basic guts were seamlessly loosing the sight.

Anyway the day had to be kicked-off hence Kalpana helped Jiya in the kitchen. While Jiya kept a swollen-neck face & a taunting eye for being part of the courtesy, Kalpana sighed again. She went out with her father to buy the vegetables & groceries. It was raining like usual and Kalpana loved rain. Rain was something that made her day as she exclaimed happily each time, the drops of rain soaked her rough hair as she splashed her toes! She again blotted off the harshness of the ones she loved. She smiled & walked into the kitchen, warmly holding Jiya & persuading her to relax. Jiya reacted impact-less & tightly hostile. A tiny line of pain scratched Kalpana’s smile. She helped out in cooking with scare & anguish, though failed to scream-out the frustration. She kept waiting for her father to look at her once & feel bad for her, though failed. The relatives came in by seven & sprinkled their expensive gifts quoted with price tags (Oh my god, I forgot to remove the tag) & social formalities of mentioning RSVP of the evening, several times. The kids loitered around the house as Kalpana played with them tirelessly but joyously, rubbing their little feet, kissing them several times & grabbing them in her arms as each time she felt numb! The evening went off, with Kalpana wearing the expensive clothes & forge smile. 

Again the darkness took over and Kalpana looked around the dark corners of her room. Dead-tired, she dropped into her bed & pulled out her laptop. As the black LCD reflected back the Kalpana-self, whom she hadn’t met since the last night, her throat yelled for water. She drags herself to the refrigerator & freezes momentarily. Another night nested, with not a single drop of water for her, while she looked at the empty water jug lying ruthlessly on the table as her step mother lies cozily in her bed bordered with the last four water cans.

Karma Tonic: Chapter 4: Emptiness in Blood

Wandering alone

Blood relations matter when the relatives respect the blood and protect the same from dripping off the nerves. An illusion that he or she is happy, an illusion of those who have lost it; but I know that I am humane. No point creating truth less ideals because, each time I come in contact with the real, they are bruised and wounded, while the one left and accused is the one ALONE.

Yes, my book carries this page too. She’d beg, borrow, steal, trick, and bribe LOVE, but eventually it’s all begged, borrowed, stolen, tricked, bribed, that stays away like sea waves. They’d touch you, they may also carry you but eventually they’ll throw you back to the shore. It was a massacre that shook their lives up for years and years, loosing her parents in a fraction of seconds. She howled to the sky, she tore the books that posed poems on happy lives; she unsubscribed the channels that would spoof on a family guy, she hated the sound of music, but eventually fell back. Why? EMPTINESS! She tried to make a beautiful life, took an idea from a Hindi-atypical family drama and tried weaving a row of smiles. But like I said, she could beg, borrow, steal, trick, bribe LOVE, but can’t have it forever. That’s why, the ones who give birth are called PARENTS, and the remaining formers and forwards are called Blood Relatives.

Karma Tonic: Chapter 3: Kitchen

“Something inside me had dropped away, and nothing came in to fill the empty cavern. There was an abnormal lightness to my body, and sounds had a hollow echo to them.” 
— Haruki Murakami

A girl, a daughter, grows in her parent’s house, with a crown of princess and a sound of free will. She’s monitored till she’s safe, she’s loved till she faints and she’s pampered till she sleeps. Why this treatment for a daughter? Maybe, because they know that eventually she won’t get any of this, once she marries up to another house. Or maybe, because she can’t stay with them forever, so they live a jillion and quick life with her. They eat like starving souls, what she cooks, they dive on the floor that she swept, they ogle at her drawings, and they sleep likes babies on the sheets she weaved. Why? Are they insane? Or we are dealing here with cogent love?

She goes to another house, could be anyone: In-laws, Siblings, External Relatives, life starts acting unnatural. From pamper to meal, sleep and most importantly, love, everything becomes synthetic, rolled and covered to magnitude of society’s claws.

What’s the basic claw?

You are a girl, a grilling human, who is supposed to live as per the demands and moods of people around her. So what, if you are earning your own cents and cooking your own meal, cook for everyone else! “It should taste exactly like I have been eating, not a pinch of salt hither-thither, not a lump of cheese bothered, exactly the way I desire.” These kinds of tantrums are not just thrown by the in-laws or husbands, sometimes; it could be one of your own pseudo blood relations. Look at an instance, where an only son of a mother gets married and suddenly finds everything cooked by his mommy tasteless. His cribs turn into screams in the house, his gratefulness becomes his awfulness. He doesn’t show up on breakfast and dinner table, when his wife is not around, he works extra hours to avoid mommy talks, and eats thanklessly, to her evergreen love.

It’s never the same for every woman. I am not saying that men are mean, it’s the society. The same girl who grows to parents’ pamper, when exposed to another girl, doesn’t deliver the same. Why not? What is so dead in them? I believe, I took a hectic moment to decide the title of this post, whom to blame, whom to change?

A human life takes diversions: from birth to death they need a litmus test to measure their insanity. They need to keep chewing that ever-lasting gum, wondering when the bubble erupts.

Karma Tonic: Chapter 2: Bay Screaming

karmayudh

When I first came to Bombay, the intimacy with the sea made me spill my beans. I remember the day, when I sat by the bay and couldn’t lie over the phone, during a conversation. I was conscious of not my conscience really, but the sea – that someone is watching me. I thought this out each day I went to the sea, as my feeling and opinion became stronger that he is breathing with me, watching me, responding to me, and above all, much-much powerful than me.

Considering a Sunday walk, I slipped out of my bed at 5:45 am today, brushed my cavities down, rinsed my face and hopped outta my shelter to get some ‘fresh air’. The society was quiet and so were the cats including our dramatic Mr. Toru (as I named a cat that hung around my apartment). I started walking towards the seven bungalows road with a warm and humid breeze burning against my face, not to forget the musty smell of last night’s leftovers that the cafes and restaurants discarded on the road. The main Versova road has three gates to the beach: the first one is about 100 meters from my society, the second one 300 meters and the third one 500 meters, right at seven bungalows. I popped into the third entry and within few minutes was left appalled at the view. It might not sound so unusual for Bombay-wallas, but yeah this is what happened. A row of rickshaws, canters, trucks and whatnot, all were rigourously getting washed by the bay and it all went back to the bay. The waves looked beautiful from the point I could see them forming, and sprinkled a mist of Arabian as I stood by the shore. Moved a few steps ahead and I clenched my eyes at the big asses shitting their life out, facing the sea – all oomphing in release and relief. They did not consider that someone is watching furiously at them. It was the SEA! 

A puppy pounced upon my ankles as I turned around furiously from the sea. His eyes were dirty as hell, and tail entangled within the limbs. He kept grabbing and jumping but couldn’t reach beyond my calf, with all the meeking and whinnying he did. What was he saying??

Karma tonic: Chapter 1: Nazrein

karma tonic

When it comes to eavesdropping, eaves-hitting, eaves-ranting or eves-staring for no reason, Delhi is unbeatable! Climb a Delhi metro, and the trail is endless. Me being quite conscious about someone even passing a glance, often tend to take a corner most pillar, be it ladies coach or a common one. Since, it rained today, the ladies in the town were all frilled in funky-gaudy shades. It usually happens among the women, that they often find the next lady dressed either better or worse than hers’, the comparison, admiration and envy are just there in their minds and that I could see in almost every face in the coach. Nine stations and I was still stuck between a long-legged hottie and a fatso tummy blocking my way for some air, while I was trying my level best to breath and inhale the perfumes around and ignore the stinks of whatnots. Thank goodness for my little player playing me 'Stephanie says' - the velvet underground, and I could stay away from the all those mini burps, clenched farts and endless gossips.

But no wonder, I'd love to have these rides, they made me laugh!

It all took place in a fraction of seconds, as my eye hit a young girl dressed in the worst of a dis fashioned jeans, a not-so-wannabe tee top and kitos that were probably pulled out from a 100 buck weekend sale. She looked quite ugly to me with her pimpled-spotted cheeks and messy curls that stunk of coconut oil. I hated to look at her. Nothing attractive! Hence, I changed my back to a better sight. Pushed by another set of ladies at next station, I was compelled to peer at the young girl again. Made me realize in a bit, that she did had beautiful pair of light brown eyes, which made me a lot of sense as I carried on with her expressions. She was looking at me, and others, and a pretty chic who managed a gutsy bag and whatnot accessories. This young girl seemed to be appalled or amazed at this pretty chic, which she kept staring with constant consciousness of getting caught over her helplessness to stare at her. I sensed a creepy feeling all over my skin (like a centipede crawling on my ankle), as I realized that she did have a reason to uncontrollably stare at the pretty things around her. Her toes were backing in embarrassment and maybe family bounds, as she kept checking her own costume, her little plastic bag stuffed with a cheap umbrella and a trigonometry tuition book. I could hear her screaming down her energy in a lonely corner of a jungle with a noisy river flowing next to her. She wanted to be like them all!