A Short Story I Wrote

Okay,it's been a while.I haven't found anything much to write.Well,this post is actually a short story that I wrote during my English Language class.The topic for the essay/story was that I should end it with the following sentence:"The tears came crashing down". This is my product,give your


Timothy dressed solemnly on that fateful Friday. He wore a black jacket, black tie, white shirt and a pair of black trousers. He pushed the towering black gates open. He felt the rust on his palm. On his right hand, he held a bouquet of white orchids. He walked slowly towards the grave. The long line of graves seemed like guards guarding the path to the dead.A gust of wind blew away his hat, but he moved on.As he reached the grave, he noticed that the ground had been freshly covered. He thought to himself, "The funeral must have finished only a couple of hours ago". He looked at the gravestone. It read, "A hero, forever loyal to the flames of war and liberty". The grave did not even have a name, but Timothy knew the name very well. He slowly, solemnly and respectfully kept the bouquet in front of the gravestone. He struggled to hold his calm, but he felt a huge lump form inside his throat. There was nothing in front of the grave except his own bouquet. Just then, a lone maple tree leaf fell on Timothy's bouquet. It was then that Timothy remembered about another maple tree leaf that led him here. Timothy remembered about every incident that led him to stand in front of this nameless grave.


Timothy was just twenty-two years old when he got his first job as a nurse in the local Cancer Centre. Timothy saw sadness and tragedy every single day of his life. The dark green colour that prevailed in the Cancer Centre never got on his nerves. Strangely, he had the gift of not getting emotionally involved or affected. Two months into his job, on a warm Monday morning, the first incident which would form a part of a chain of events that would lead Timothy to that grave took place. A new patient, by the name of Christian Lewis, was wheeled into the Cancer Centre. Timothy took little notice of Christian, except for the usual curiosity about who the new patient was. As fate would have it, Timothy was given the duty of going to Christian's room every evening at six, to check the drip and give Christian his medicines. Timothy was punctual, he never got late. Two weeks into this monotonous exercise, Timothy could not suppress his curiosity. That particular day, a windy Tuesday, during one of his usual evening visits, Timothy decided to make conversation with Christian. He first made small talk, asking how Christian was. He got a strange reply. "I would say I'm fine, but then, you and I both know that I would be lying". Timothy was surprised, this was not the answer he had expected. He was silent. Then, after a moment's hesitation, he asked, "How come you don't have any visitors? You know, right, that one relative is permitted to stay?" Christian was silent, and he closed his eyes. Timothy, thinking that Christian was asleep, quietly left the room.


The next evening, Timothy asked the same question, and received the same reaction. Timothy was strangely not willing to give up. After a whole month, on a rainy Wednesday, when Timothy asked yet again, Christian replied with a question. "Why are you interested in me, son? There are so many intriguing people in this world, what have I done to deserve your curiosity?" There was a hint of sarcasm in his voice. Timothy replied, "Sir, you came in wheeled by army officers. You have inoperable frontal lobe tumour, and you are alone. Cancer is torture, sir, believe me when I say it. But Cancer becomes pure agony if when forced to face it alone. That is why I am asking you if you had any family. I have not seen you with any visitors".  Christian again lapsed into silence. After a moment's thought, he replied, "I have no family son". It was then that Timothy took notice of Christian calling him "son". Timothy suddenly took notice of Christian's age-fifty six. Timothy then did something that no nurse would ever do-he offered to keep company, and stay throughout the night. He got no reply. Christian simply closed his eyes. Timothy took this as a yes, and so he stayed by the fifty-six year old stranger's side. Funny how the human mind works.


This continued for a whole two weeks, until on one clear Thursday, Christian finally opened up. "My family is my country, son. I enlisted to serve my family when I was eighteen. I have fought, served and sacrificed everything, because my country, your country, is my spouse, my parent, my sibling, and my child. I am just one soldier who is sick. My country has a lot more to deal with. I do not want any special treatment, son. I want to be just like every other servant of the nation". Timothy was speechless. The resignation, the calm, the patriotism and the love, it all puzzled Timothy. But more than puzzled, he was amazed. He did not say anything. Just when he was about to leave, Christian said something unexpected. "You know, son? I was born today". Once again, Timothy was puzzled. He could not tell why Christian had told him this. But he simply smiled and left.


Two hours later, Timothy came back to Christian's room. He said, "Do not ask questions, Christian, just come with me". Christian was used to following other people's instructions. Being a simple man, he wordlessly followed Timothy. Timothy led Christian to the cold outside. They both sat on a small wooden bench painted white. Timothy reached underneath, and pulled out two bottles of beer,ice cold. He opened them, and gave one to Christian. Christian smiled, cold beer could make even a hardened veteran smile. "To Christian", said Timothy, and both raised their bottles. They both drank, and enjoyed their little private time. All this time, Christian said little, but the contentment could be seen on his face. He enjoyed the beer, cherishing every sip.His eyes remained calmly fixed on Timothy. The hardened veteran permitted a slight curve on his scarred lips, a smile that said a thousand words. Timothy thought to himself, "Only when you know that life's clock will soon stop ticking, will you truly appreciate its simple pleasures". Timothy led the silent, but happy Christian back to his room.


After the celebration was over, and silent Christian was put to bed, Timothy stayed back to clean the messy reception area. After finishing the job, he went to check on Christian. Christian was sound asleep. The window was open, and cold breeze was coming into the room. Timothy decided to close the window. He noticed dark clouds forming in the sky. A storm was coming. As Timothy closed the window, a lone maple tree leaf managed to get into the room. It slowly settled down on Christian's open palm. Timothy went to pick it up, but as his flesh touched Christian's, Timothy felt the same eerie cold that surrounds the dead. He checked for a pulse which wasn't there. Christian had died in peace. He had died a happy man. A fitting end for the servant of the nation.


As the flood of memories receded on the dreary Friday morning, Timothy started to think. Why should a selfless man like Christian suffer? What was the limit to patriotism? He began to question Heaven, Hell and Karma. He looked at the nameless gravestone once again. "A hero, forever loyal to the flames of war and liberty". It was his own decision to keep the grave nameless. "I want to be just like every other servant of the nation", Christian had said before. Timothy felt it fitting that the grave remain nameless, for names and faces are forgotten, but deeds and personalities are not. That was the least he could do for the old man who made him feel emotionally attached to someone, the man who gave the depressing Cancer Centre a happy night. The irony never ceased to amaze Timothy. Christian was a decorated veteran, who dodged bullets and bombs, yet it was his own body that caused his death. Timothy thought about the chain of events-his meeting Christian on a Monday, his first conversation with Christian on a Tuesday, his staying by Christian's side on Wednesday,, Christian's birthday on a Thursday, and Christian's death on Friday. Timothy gave one last look at his bouquet, and at the single maple tree leaf on top of it. He turned around and walked towards the towering Cemetery gates. He bent down to pick up his fallen hat. He held it in his palms, and continued to walk. The Gray guards to the path of the dead were left behind. He reached for the same towering rusting black  gate. He pushed it open, and stepped outside. He felt great emptiness, as if he had left something behind, just like how he felt when his beloved aunt died ten years ago. He stepped out. As the doors closed behind him, the tears came crashing down.


Okay,this is the story.what do ya think??? By the way, the characters are fictitious, and not a reference to anyone in this world. Also,the note on the gravestone isn't my own creation,it is taken from the video game titled "Metal Gear Solid 4:Guns Of The Patriots",as a sign of my love and respect for that game. Well,that's that,and the show's over.Goodnight dear reader :)

War Inside My Head

Cancer. It’s a disease, one of the worst at that. It proves that the ticking clock of life has a deadline. The lucky ones have the luxury of not knowing how, when and where they will die, the unlucky ones whom this dirty disease catches hold of, they don’t have that luxury. When you know how long you have until you tae in your last breath, everything changes. Those who love you look at you differently, they become more tolerant. You look at things differently, smell things differently, you repent for the past, and you also become an involuntary magnet for pity.


But that is not the worst part. The worst part is what those who love the cancer victim feel. They will know that their loved one will die soon, and suddenly, a host of thoughts and ideas, along with millions of things to do with that person comes into their mind. The worst, however, is surprisingly not the countdown of every passing second, but the feeling of helplessness, that you can’t do anything but sit and watch, and pray, that the cancer vanishes and never comes back. That pain, the wait-they’re all part of the deal, part of the package.

This has been something that has been disturbing my thoughts. I am close to making a decision that will plot the course of my future-which subject to study during my eleventh and twelfth grade as the optional subject. My choices lie between computer applications, and biology. If you have read many of my previous posts, you would know that despite overspending on unnecessary items, I do generally care about people’s well being. It’s also my wish that I do something worthwhile in my life. With this thought in my mind, I tried to think about how the future will be in each of the two subjects. If I take computer applications, then I can attend an engineering college, get a job, do my masters, maybe doctorate, and then work on some irrelevant project until retirement, all the while making piles of cash and living the luxurious life I’ve always dreamed of. The latter, biology, however, opens up a totally different window. In addition to engineering, I’ll be able to study Medicine, and be a doctor, and at the same time, try engineering too. The reason I wrote about Cancer above is because I feel it’s the worst disease a human being can have, and its sort of my wish that I can be an oncologist, and help treat cancer.

Like all options, this too has its uncertainties. The future is not clear. I may not get into a good college. I’m not too good in biology too, but I am willing to work hard, if I can do something good with my life, something beneficial to others, once I grow up. But if I don’t get into a good college, what good is that going to do? Secondly, if I become an oncologist, the emotional stress may be too much for a sissy like me to handle. Who knows how many years can I handle before I break down? Third, what if, after becoming an oncologist, I misdiagnose a patient, and as a result, cause his or her death? Fourth, what will happen to my personal life if I become a doctor, spending most of my time with patients? And finally, what will my financial situation be? I’m sure it won’t be the same as it would be if I were an engineer. All these questions try to pull me away from choosing Biology as my subject. At the same time, the unnamed and unidentified feeling, which creeps up into my conscience is telling me that Biology is what I should take. Logic vs. Faith…….

This big question mark in me needs to be erased as soon as possible, because the day I give my final decision edges ever closer. Right now, the fear of not making a choice has overcome the fear of whether or not I’ll make the right one. Dear Reader, if you have any suggestion, any at all, please take the time to comment, so that I may be clear about the choice I need to make, the choice that will plot my future……….

Pride And Charity (And Some Prejudice Too)

We all talk about charity. Most of us would look up to those who practice. But we never question the motives behind the charity. I had some time to think things through, and here are my thoughts.

As you might already know, I’m just a sixteen year old guy, who just passed out from his tenth grade. My heart does bleed for the poor, and I do wish, and try, and sometimes practice charity. A good friend of mine, Titus, told me that it is wrong for a person of my age to give to charity, as we don’t earn money, so its not our right to give that which is not ours. To a certain extent, that’s true. But then, when I talked about this to my other good friend, Hari, he told me that even if we donate money that’s not ours, somebody stands to benefit from it just the same. These two arguments keep pestering me whenever I think about donating, and many times, the devil in me convinces my inner self to go with the first choice, just so that I have more money to spend for myself. But after much thought, by myself this time, I was able to bring Pride into this issue.

You might wonder how pride gets entangled into all this. Well, let me tell you how. First and foremost, although the deed of giving to charity is commendable, the motives behind it matters. After lots of thought, I came to the conclusion that people give to charity for two reasons basically. One is the obvious one-to help other less fortunate people. The second one, although one which we all tend to deny, can be disturbingly true. The second reason for donating is purely selfish, I might add. Many times, we donate just so that we feel good, or maybe just so that we can pacify a guilt that could’ve arisen from a past wrong deed. Isn’t that a selfish reason? Doesn’t pride play a role here? Well, it does, because some people, just to feel proud of themselves, just to show everybody that they have a big heart, donate to charity. This is exactly where pride comes in. To some extent, prejudice too.

I was suddenly reminded of another disturbing, yet true thought which my good friend, Sarvesh told me. He said that charity, albeit noble, can sometimes offend. Think about it, if a kid like me walks up to a grownup who’s in need of help, and offers financial assistance, how would that person feel? Wouldn’t he feel hurt? Wouldn’t he feel reduced? Wouldn’t his self esteem go down the drain? Wouldn’t his pride crumble like dominoes?

I must confess, many times when I feel sad for some person in need, when I feel the need to extend a helping hand, I myself do not know why I feel the way I feel. I don’t know if it’s a selfish reason, whether it’s a charitable and noble reason. I even feel that the charitableness that I feel sometimes is just an empty feeling, because in the end, I do not act charitable. So, in the end, I ask myself, is it pride? Is it prejudice? Is it nobility? Or is it just another one of those feelings that randomly come like winter breeze? I do have the fear that if I do find the right reason for the charitableness in men, perhaps the truth would be so disturbing, perhaps the revelation that only pride causes a person to donate or not donate, that would crush me, and would prove that humanity has a heart of stone. Of course, no one till now has found the reason for feeling charitable. Maybe if we find out the truth, then the whole act of charity will cease to be charitable. But like a candle in a dark room, hope springs eternal, as great people like Mother Theresa come flooding into my memories. There is still hope. There is still the unanswered question, and we can still pray that selfishness has not taken over charity, that pride will not prevent us from being charitable, that pride will not give us guilt after being charitable. God, what kind of thoughts do I get in this long and boring vacation?????

To My Beautiful Lifelong Friends

Its been a while since my last post (okay,not that long :P). I wanted to live life differently, by seeing things more positively, I wanted to see if there would be a difference. Let me tell  you,there is. I can't explain what that difference is, suffice it to say that I've started seeing the beauty in life, the beauty in the things I've been given, the beauty of the little things. This post is dedicated to the two of my lifelong friends, whom I should've thanked ages ago, who's sacrifices I should've acknowledged long back. This post is dedicated to you mom and dad.

I just realised that all that I am is because of the innumerable sacrifices you two have made. I lack the directness or the courage to say thank you directly, that's who I am sadly. But, one day, if you two get to read this, then you will understand,no matter how many times I get angry,say upsetting things in my anger, or even disobey you both for that matter, I will never cease to love you both,or be thankful.

I'm in my home town right now. I'm staying with my grandparents. My aunt, who gave birth to a baby boy,stays here. I just saw the amount of patience and effort needed to take care of a baby,and from then on,I started to acknowledge my parents' love and sacrifice.There's a reason the Indian culture says "Matha,Pitha,Guru,Daivam",translating as "Mother,Father,Teacher,God".Parents come first. I'm one among  the lucky people who has both my parents with me,its surprising I took so long to realise how blessed I am.

The lyrics of a song,called "Thanks Again" by Ricky Skaggs says all that I have to say.Thanks again Appa and Amma..

Thanks Again By Ricky Skaggs:

I've sent bouquets for Mother's Day,

For Father's Day, a shirt and card.
While they came from the heart,
They all fell short of saying how special you both are.
It wasn't ' til I was up and gone,
Married with a couple of kids of my own,
Doing what mamas and daddies do,
That I realized what I must have put you through.


So thanks again for the love in the cradle,
And all of the changes that kept me dry.
And thanks again for the love at our table,
And tannin' my bottom when I told you a lie.
For takin' me fishin' and flyin' my kites,
And tuckin' me in, yes, night after night:
To my beautiful life-long friends,
Hey, Mom and Daddy thanks again.


I'm still a young man, least I think I am,
But I'm watchin' my own hair turn gray.
And your call last Sunday brought to mind,
That I owe you a debt I can never repay.


So thanks again for worryin' and waitin',
When I started datin' on weekend nights.
And thanks again for the help with my homework,
And sittin' up with me till I got it right.
Your car for the prom, your letters in 'Nam,
But most of all, Daddy, for marryin' Mom:
To my beautiful life long friends,
Hey, Mom and Daddy thanks again.


To my beautiful life long friends,
Hey, Mom and Daddy thanks again.


Thanks again.............

Guilt Exposed Bare

There is one who's attraction I can't resist,
No matter how much I persist,
Her words are sweeter than wine,
She will push aside everything that is thine.


Her skill lies in deception,
She is best at nothing but manipulation,
She sways me with her promises and lies,
And in the process,leaves the good things in mounting piles.


She has the most beautiful face,
Her smell,her scent,none in our race,
All that she desires,she possesses,
She robs a part of those she touches.


She makes you do that you would not,
But she coaxes like a feathery cot,
And after all is said and done,
She makes you feel like you've touched the Sun.


Then the harsh realization dawns,
That she used you like all her pawns,
And now has thrown you into the sea,
With heavy rocks tied to your knee.


She loves to see you drown,
She will smile,but never frown,
As her seawater enters your body,
As you writhe in agony.


For every single time she has made you plunder,
Stronger will you be pulled under,
Into a deep and gaping hole,
So dark that it will scar your soul.


If you see a ray of light,
If you triumph in the fight,
She will tempt you once again,
And if you fall in,Oh What A Shame!


This is what guilt does to you,to all of us,to me.

My Bad,My Ugly and My Good

Today is a special day.Today,I've genuinely felt the need to change.I genuinely feel I should not remain who I am.So,I'll make a start by mentioning my faults and bad deeds,in an effort to release the burden and start anew. First and foremost,,I've been ungrateful for the life I've been given. Despite an amazing school, food, clothes, house, family, friends, a healthy body, I've continuously ignored them, and pretended to grieve over problems I did not even have. I asked for more than what I needed. I've been looking down at myself with contempt, and in the process, spitting at God, showing my ungratefulness.

Secondly, I've been a bad son to my parents. I failed to remember that they too had problems, and real viable problems unlike me, but I refused to see them because I was stuck inside my selfish and narcissistic cocoon. I wish I could openly speak about all this, but I am too cowardly to accept my faults in the open. I couldn't ask for a more wonderful father, whose knowledge of music, cricket, racing, football, and so many other things, among music and books have given me hours and hours of admiration and joy. My mother's perseverance has no equal. Her never-ending love for me was something I did not see, and I spat on it with my rebelliousness and anger. I took the things they said way too seriously, when they were stressed beyond measure and when I knew they didn't mean it. I wish I could pay for this, because their sacrifices are too great. I feel bad about only thinking about myself most of the time. I feel bad for allowing myself to get provoked, manipulated and angry so easily.

I feel bad for lying to Titus, and still blaming him silently for his anger despite knowing that his anger was justified. I feel bad for all the times I've knowingly and unknowingly behaved rudely to security guards,rickshaw drivers, and maids. I feel bad for ruining the mood of many other people just because my mood was bad. I feel bad for showing all my pseudo-problems to the world and attracting pity. I feel bad for being a bad grandson and forgetting that old-age has its own tensions,again I became a self obsessed narcissist.

I feel bad for not working the hardest and giving my best effort towards studies despite the fact that millions would even kill to get the opportunities which I've received and to some extent,wasted. I feel bad for spending large amounts of money on unnecessary things, or more importantly, I feel bad that despite knowing I shouldn't spend on such things, I ignored my own conscience and proceeded to spend, only to experience the inevitable guilt and the crying over spilt milk. I feel bad that I haven't thanked God for every little blessing that I have received. I feel bad that I haven't exploited all my talents. I feel bad that at school, I remained so very inactive. I feel bad for all the times I've said bad things about my teachers. I feel bad for the many times I thought my own country was inferior.

There will be a time when I pay for all of this, but when that time will come, I do not know. I do know that I leave my mistakes behind with the hopes of never forgetting them, and yet never repeating them. I hope that forever, I remain humble and repent. Now, I'm a changed man, one who swears to stand up to his conscience, one who swears to respect and love his parents, grandparents, family and friends, one who will remain calm and less angry, one who would say less hurtful things. Above all, I'll be one who's grateful for what he's got. I can't erase my mistakes and sins, but I can start by saying sorry, and actually meaning it. So,here I am, and I am sorry........................................

Mike

Let me introduce you to Mike,
I'm proud to say that he has no pride,
What I said above,I mean it,
For he never,for anything,saw himself fit.


Yet,he behaves many a times,strange,
If others found him unfit,he would fly up a rage,
There are but a few things he valued,
If he found a friend,he would remain with them,glued.


He sold his heart to the needy,
He looked with spite on the greedy,
He was very young,yet he wanted,
To be good,helpful,kind and undaunted.


He was a very serious and sad lad,
Many thought his actions to be mad,
He wanted to be good in other's eyes,but in vain,
For one small wrong action,and all is washed away like rain.


He was a lad with a conflicted mind,
He was never clear what to abide,
To betrayal,he was no stranger,
For he knew first-hand from those he held dear.


He was negative,pessimistic and in pain,
He thought any attempt he made would be in vain,
Pity was something he loved,
No matter how or from who,pity he welcomed.


He was known for his short temper,
Yet he begged to show that he was also tender,
To anyone who'd ask,help he would give,
If he would refuse,then he wouldn't live.


He loved technology and video games,
He was bad at remembering dates and names,
Like most,he too believed in true love,
He wished she would love him,and as a sign,release the dove.


He hated to look at his reflection,
He felt his ugliness was beyond comprehension,
He wished there would be someone,
Who wouldn't say hurtful things, at least for once.


He struggled to find the right words,
That would set him free like the birds,
He wished he could laugh and smile more,
But he always knew he had a sad core.


He wanted to know the aim of life,
He wanted to end the struggle and strife,
He sometimes thought everything would end,
When things were too damaged for him to mend.


Above all,he is thankful,
To the one above,who is merciful,
He wishes he wouldn't wake up from his dreams,
For in dreams,everything is what it seems.


Last but not the least,I mention,
That he is a coward filled with tension,
Every night,filled with regret he would lay,
For he knows it is himself he had betrayed......