The Confession.

New month, new beginning. Well, expect a lot more short stories this month. I don't know how I'm gonna find the time or creativity, but I'm gonna try for the Nanowrimo again this year. And since I haven't had the time to make up a theme for a novella, I'm gonna go with a bunch of short stories.. I don't know how I'm gonna complete 50,000 words but darn it, I'm gonna try.

Anyway, starting off will be a return to my favourite macabre city... Amberville. Read on and please, please, please do comment. 

Time :  1.20 pm

Location : Interrogation room, Amberville Police Station, Amberville.

“I swear I’m innocent, Sir. I don’t know what happened. I’m just an innocent li’l boy. ” The teenager pleaded to the man seated in front of him. Two heartless eyes stared back at him. That seemed to terrify him more. He needed the Officer sitting in front of him to believe him. He was his last hope.

“You’re the only one who seems to be listening to me, Sir. The others ‘ave all pronounced me guilty already and would have the guillotine blades sharpened if they’d allow it in this state.”

“Look. I told the other cop how it all went down but he wasn’t listening much to what I had to say. So let me tell it to you, Sir and you decide.”

“See, it all started last night at the prom. No.. I guess it started before that. Now, I’ve been a resident of this here town since when that Clinton guy was in office. I’ve never been upto no trouble.. well, I mean , c’mon. A little weed here and there with the gang last year and all that, but we were just trying it out. Besides, Major Sherwither’s son was there too. How come no one picked him up that night ? Truth is you guys are always after the poor folk like me... I’m sorry, Sir. I’m ranting. I know. I know. You’ve given me a chance to tell the truth and I’m laying accusations on your people.”

“Anyway,  Lizzie and I... we been goin’ out for awhile now. You know ? Since 9^th grade. I’ve never been one for commitment but Man, it seemed like we been together forever. Can’t believe it’s been three years. Three f***in’ years with one girl. Man !”

“Now, I and Lizzie.. we get into fights like any couple and we always kiss and make up in the past.. if you know what I mean. He he. She was a good kisser. Tasted like.. ya, ok. I’ll carry on. See, but this time around damn fight gets out of hand. She’s like, what’s the phrase.. making mountains out of anthills or whatever. She refused to calm down.”

“What was the fight about ? Well... she claims she saw me kissing Susan in Aisle 7 of the Quickie Mart. I mean, c’mon. What’s the point of being with a girl so long if there’s no trust, eh ? All these years together and she falls for some silly bitch’s words.  It’s not like I couldn’t get anyone else... heck, jus’ last year, that farmer’s chick Millie was all over me to ditch Liz. She even promised to go all the way with me, you know what I mean ? And you know what ? I said no. ‘Cause that’s what people do when they’re exclusive. That’s true love, right there. Not this silly listenin’ to rumours.”

“What ? I was spotted with Susan ? Well, ya, we were at the Quickie Mart that day, but c’mon. It wasn’t my fault. She was all over me, tongue an’ all. I didn’t want to, but c’mon, man. Now, Lizzie, she’s a real prude in these things.. so ya, getting this girl in the market was like gravy, you know what I’,m saying ? So ya, maybe we did make out a bit, but I swear to ya, Sir, the whole time I was with Susan, I was thinkin’ of Lizzie.”

“Anyway, Lizzie got pissed and claimed we were over. Over ! Just like that. She wouldn’t answer my calls. Her bro roughed me up when I visited their house that evenin’ and the next thing I know, word in school is she’s takin’ Jimmy to the prom. Can you imagine ? 3 years I stick with her and she’s takin’ that skinny toad to the Prom.”

He looked up at the Officer’s eyes. It seemed more weary than earlier but atleast he had listened attentively till now to what the teen had to say. That was good. He needed someone to believe in him. He needed to find out who had framed him and he couldn’t do that without help from the cops. His mind wandered back to the night’s events.

“So there I was at the Prom, with no date. Susan had bailed on me. Bitch was spreadin’ rumors saying I was a bad kisser to the others. As if. Ask Lizzie. She has no complaints. Anyway, it was frustrating, man. Watching Lizzie and Jim walkin’ together. Jim with that bastard smile of his that said he couldn’t believe his luck. Lizzie holding onto him just a little bit tighter whenever she thought I was looking. And the dance. “

“It should have been me, Sir. I been goin’ out with her since forever. Prom night should have been with me. But no, instead there she was giggling at his jokes, lying on his shoulders through the dance, allowing his hands to slide down to her butt. Shit, man. You know how long it took me to get that kinda permission... ya, ok. I’ll stick to last night. Yes, Sir. I realise your time is getting wasted and the others will soon be back from their lunch break. I’m sorry, Sir. I’ll be quick. There really ain’t a whole lot more to tell.”

“So, anyway, I figured I’d talk to her after the party. But after it was all done, I couldn’t find her. I asked the guys but no one had seen her leave. Her friends wouldn’t come near me. Then I heard Jimmy’s kid brother say he’d seen his bro leave with Liz through the side entrance, you know, the one that leads to the locker rooms. Course I didn’t know that so I took Jimmy’s bro along and asked him to show me.”

“We go down the hall towards the locker rooms. I figure Liz needs to get something from her locker. Jimmy’s bro is right beside me the whole time. We talk about the Lakers game and all, and suddenly we hear these sounds from the biology lab. They seem abnormal.. hurried. I can make out Liz’s voice amongst the sounds. She seems to be in trouble. I tell the kid to stay back and not look inside and I open the door.”

“JESUS CHRIST. MATT !! OH GOD !! NO !! QUICK. SOMEBODY GET IN THERE !!!”

“Now, I don’t know why the kid’s lying to you all, but I swear on my Momma’s grave that when I entered, there was a man in the room. He’d already killed Jimmy and was gonna hurt Liz with that scalpel knife. I did my best to stop him but he was too strong...”

“OPEN THE DAMN DOOR, YOU LITTLE FREAK !!!”  The thuds against the door got louder. The teen turned back to the Officer.

“That’s my story, Sir. I thank you for listening to me and hopefully the others will believe me too. I just hope they ain’t not gonna be biased against me just because my poppa too was involved in that cop killing all those years back. I think they’re here. Looks like lunch hour’s over.”

With a heavy crash, the door gave way, smashing the chair that had been placed against it’s handle. Four officers barged in and slammed the kid off his chair and onto the floor.

“PUT YOUR F***ING HANDS BEHIND YOUR BACK, YOU SICK F*** !!”

“WASTE THE KID. KILL THE BLOODY PUNK, I SAY.”

A third voice, out of breath, entered the chaos. “Noone does anything till I say so. Charlie, stop it. Stop hitting him. I swear, I’ll plug ya myself.”

“ARE YOU CRAZY, CAPTAIN ? YOU’RE THREATENING US FOR THIS PUNK ??”

“Let’s all just calm down here. What’s with you lot... why’re you picking on this young...” His voice trailed away as Officer John stepped aside and the final piece of the tableau came into his vision.

“Dear God...”

“THIS LITTLE SHIT DID IT, SIR. HE BEHEADED JIMMY GREEN AND SARAH’S GIRL LAST NIGHT AT THE PROM. IN FRONT OF LITTLE SAMMY GREEN, TOO. WE’D LEFT MATT IN CHARGE OF HIM IN THE ROOM TODAY WHILE WE WENT FOR LUNCH. WE WERE ONLY GONE 15 MINUTES, CAPTAIN, I SWEAR TO YA. WE CAME BACK A MINUTE AGO AND SAW THIS THROUGH THE ONE WAY MIRROR. ”

The Captain stared in disbelief at the table.  There, as if in a bizarre mime, sat his son, rookie officer Matt. 2^nd day on the force. It was only natural that he’d be given the grunt work. Typing files, making coffee... standing guard over a kid during lunch break. He was sitting on the chair with his two arms rested on the table. His palms held his head in a pose of apparent rapt inquisitiveness. A shiver passed through the Captain’s mind as he realized the trouble it must have taken to place the body in such a pose on the chair so that it wouldn’t fall off.  And the force that must have been needed for the pen. The pen which protruded from his skull, almost lost in the mix of ink and blood that ran down between his eyes.

His knees turned weak and he felt dizzy as nausea overtook him. He tried to control himself but he felt the ground slide between his feet. Even as his fellow officers rushed to stop him from falling, in the background amidst the revolving walls, he thought he heard a young boy’s voice say :

“I swear I’m innocent, Sir. I don’t know what happened. I’m just an innocent li’l boy. Hey! Hey ! That cop took my pen. I want my pen back !”

India going to the dogs ? Not yet,sadly

While I was in Mumbai awaiting my flight, I could see the news channel in the airport talking of the 'North Indian' who brandished a gun in a bus in Mumbai. He would eventually be shot down for not dropping it, though I'm supporting the guys who claim there were alternative options than to shoot him just too appease a few communal pricks.

As I arrived in Kannur, I saw on the news that Kannur had now become terrorist hub No.1. Apparently, the latest terrorists from Lashkar-e-Rasagulla ( or whatever the freak they wanna call themselves ) in Kashmir were all imported from Kannur. Moreover, 300 more Kannurites have been arrested with regard to this incident. All near my house, really.

And then, I came across this video of a little dog and it's 'arch enemies' and how it reacted when they were in trouble.

They say India is going to the dogs. Hah !!! We ain't good enough to be 'going to the dogs'. We're too busy killing our own people because of silly things like 'circumcised or uncircumcised' and 'Vada Pav vs Litti-Chokha'.

C'mon guys. What's it say for us when a dog is capable of showing selflessness and humanity and we've descended into 'ball lickin' wild beasts' with no respect for the law?
Live a happy life. Look to make friends. Chase cars. Enjoy every meal. Shake your booty when you're happy. And if the moment ever presents itself... save your enemy from a burning building. Save a life, start a new friendship with no misgivings of colour of fur, presence of whiskers or a different religion...

Then, maybe if we're lucky, India will slowly start going to the dogs.

Just some jibber-jabber as I pack my bags...

Was just fooling around with the "Top commentators" code( available here ) on my blog html code.. this is the result I came up with...

01. XXXXX ( 267 )
02.PythoRoshan (54)
03.Nags (44)
04.Gazal (42)
05.max (35)
06.Mogamboo (34)
07.The Lost Wanderer (32)
08.The Rat... (25)
09.Anonymous (24)
10.lemonade (23)
11.ap (23)
12.Michelle (22)
13.Ps (22)
14.Rejoy (21)
15.Reni (21)
16.shammu... (20)

Quite a few names from the past in there. Sigh... No guesses as to who XXXX is... yup, you got it.. It's a certain Mr Roshan R !!!
Man, I have got to stop reading my own blog !!! I've commented nearly 10 times as many times as anyone else in my blog. In my defence, I think I get a lot of random people who cross by my site while bloghopping and comment once in a blue moon. And probably a lot of people with fractured arms who surf the net and hence, while appreciating my blog and longing to comment on it's brilliance, can't type their words of awe with their nose. I forgive you, guys. 

For now.

Still, it's good to have all you bloggers around .. a virtual support group with whom I can crack jokes, tell my worries & sorrows, ask questions ( by the by, with respect to the last question I asked, I will be getting the Itouch 32 gb model... am busy adding 'pics' to all my mp3s right now as we speak. ) and just be my creative and dumbass self. No pretensions. Helps me get rid of what's on my mind. Who knows ? If Hitler had a blog, he'd probably have ended up being a happy florist  instead of 'THE DICTATOR.' If only.

My cardiovascularthoracic anaesthesia posting is almost over and Boy! If you thought that name was tough, believe me, the surgeries were mindblowing. I honestly don't remember ever seeing such skilled surgical hands at work..EVER. Then again, I can't remember the last time I saw a beating heart either till this posting. Man. It's something. Even when the rest of the body is shut down by muscle relaxants, this baby keeps on going. 

You need instruments called the octopus and the starfish to hold and stabilise it in place so you can fine tune it and there's even a fibrillator involved... you've seen the movies where people use a defibrillator to kickstart a shut down heart, right ? Well, a fibrillator does the opposite. It shuts down the heart. That's necessary so that the surgeon can do his pinpoint surgery under microscope. 

What keeps 'em alive during this period ? Well, that's where the heart-lung machine takes over. How can I possibly put it in simple terms... it's a big DJ box-washing machine lookalike hybrid which drains all the blood from the patient's body, purifies it and sends it back repeatedly during the operation so that the surgeon also has a bloodless field. Ya, you're right. I'll stop scaring you guys with this medical jargon.  It spooked me too.. me, the guy who used to have a set of human bones under my bed for a year ( It used to be our study material.. kinda like a ANATOMY-FOR-DUMMIES guide. ) Wake up at 3am in the morning. Can't sleep ? Put your hand in the bag and pick a bone. Any bone. 'Re-Read it' till you fall asleep again.

Ummm.. ok. I'll stop creeping you guys out. Seriously, I won't even mention the other uses we had for those bones...

Anyway, changing the subject, check out 'Heroes' if you're around a movie theatre. Though not as good as 'Rang De Basanti', the director and cast's heart is in the right place and that counts for a lot in my book. Plus, you get to see some really rare things.

1. Sohail Khan actually acting.

2. Salman Khan actually not talking like a NRi brat.

3. Sunny Deol in one of his most unique fight sequences ever. And that says a lot, considering some of his action scenes. His dancing.. well, he's as good ( bad ) as he ever was.

4. Mithun Chakraborty in a really sweet role.

5. There's very little eye candy and it gets over early on with miniscule shots of Riya Sen ( Growwr ) and Amrita Arora. 

6. The theme too is something different for Bollywood. 2 kids aiming to pass college by making a movie on why not to join the army, end up learning a lot about themselves and the army that defends them by just delivering 3 letters. 3 letters from the dead.

Anyway, I'm off for a long overdue vacation home. Time to remind my parents that their second kid is me and not Ruby ( evil dog enchantress of the house ). As usual, they don't know I'm arriving. It's an old tradition almost. I always appear home out of the blue. Though, it used to be a lot easier when it was a 3 hour journey from Mangalore as opposed to a flight-then-train journey of a day. Cheaper, too. 

Still, It's worth it to see their surprised smiles... atleast till I overstay my welcome. Of course, blessed with unique telepathic skills, I can pick up the subtle signs. When Ruby gets the 'chicken curry with prawns and Nasi Goreng in good china dishes' and I get the 'mashed rice with fish bones in a doggy bowl'  is usually the first clue. My father looking longingly at the T.V. remote control that's become glued to my hand during and then smiling dreamily { worryingly } as he eyes the knives cabinet is another. My bags packed one fine morning and a return ticket taped to my spectacles is a rather not too subtle hint, I feel personally. Doesn't stop my parents ( or is it Ruby ??) from trying, though. 

Adios amigos. If there's a net working back home, I'll write. Or else, you're on your own. Keep the world running till I get back.

P.S. Funny thought. You guys know I'm going home. But my own parents and bro ( who I'll be seeing for the first time in 2 years ) don't. Hehe. Bloggers. We're a weird lot.

Carry on, my Wayward son

I see omens.
I wish I didn't. I wish I could convince myself they were all coincidences.

2 weeks ago, I left the operation theatre at 3 am, heading across the darklit streets to my room for a well deserved rest.A premature baby had just been delivered and against the odds, had cried. He was in the NICU, nonetheless, as the odds of his living were still iffy.
As I crossed the street, I was stopped in my tracks by a tableau taking place in front of me. A young sparrow, a little more than a fistful, was lying still in the road. I wished to God it were dead, seeing it's pitiful state. Crows hopped around , their gazes devouring the sparrow already. As I came nearer , I realised the little one was not dead. It was bleeding from various spots where it had obviously been stabbed by the crows. I had delayed the inevitable by walking the road at the moment of time.

I want to tell you that I took that bird in. I cleaned it's wounds. Nurtured it these 2 weeks and watched as it grew stronger and flew for the first time. How it flew away yesterday, leaving me teary eyed and praying for it's safety.

But that would be a lie. I turned and walked away. I didn't have the heart to face any more deaths.. not even of a small creature. And not at 3.30 in the morning. But I could hear the warning bells that were sounding in my head. Death was nearby. And I knew who it was going to be.

4 hours later, after a 'sound' sleep and having refreshed myself for a new days work, I entered the NICU. I waited to hear the sister's words telling me the infant had not survived the night. But again, I was wrong. He had. I wondered if I had got it wrong. Was I reading this wrong ? In this world where they say, the flapping of a butterfly's wings can affect the course of history in another part of the world, could it be that the young sparrow had traded places with the infant ? Had I witnessed , not death, but the miracle of life getting a second chance ?

I entered the operation theatre ,wondering how I always tend to see the negative omens. Maybe it was because I was just not looking for the positive omens that exist all around me if I just open my eyes to them. Was I, with my doc eyes, dismissing the miracles of life and accentuating the darkness of death's deeds ? Could it be...

"Hey, Rosh. Did you hear ? Dr B's dad passed away today morning. Heart attack. It was sudden." R said as I passed him by.

And suddenly, I knew what the sparrow represented.

You see, only the previous day, Dr B had opened up to us.. on how he'd become a success in life, how he had struggled to move out of his dad's famous reputation and try to carve a place for himself in the city's medical society. How, over the years, he had succeeded in his aim, while simultaneously, breaking bridges with his father. How perhaps, it was time to start mending those bridges now. How the fights to assert his individuality back then, seemed so trivial now. His dad's birthday was coming up. It was a good time for a son to show his dad how much he really loved him. It was a good time to make up for lost time.

The baby sparrow had not been the infant in the NICU as I had imagined. It had not been as literal a sign as that. The omens seldom are, I find. It had been the dreams and hopes of a doctor trying to return back to the family he loved and turned away from years ago. Dreams which would remain forever dreams.

Throughout the death rites and the cremation, I admired the poise of this doctor. His knowledge had impressed me earlier... on that day, I watched a man with a lion's heart. The world saw a son coming back to perform his duties to his estranged father. I and R alone saw the man whose hopes were shattered, maintaining a dignity worthy of an armyman.

Later, in my room, I pondered, on how often, as life progresses, we take our parents for granted. We spend our young lives impressing our peer groups, later on our girlfriends and seniors. Our parents get sidelined as we rush ahead in the ratrace. The hand that held the bicycle when we were 5 years old, now does not even warrant a wave of the hand as we drive by in our fancy wheels. They rejoice in our success, wish we were nearer by,wished we'd call more often... or atleast remember them more often.

And one fine day, it is too late to undo all that we've done.

As I beat myself up, wondering how bad a son I too was, I sought solace in the company of friends. But there wasn't any that night. The terrible mobile service I have ensured that I couldn't call up my parents too.
But then, solace is a funny thing too. You find it in the least expected place. Late that night as I decided to retire to bed, I decided to watch an episode of 'Supernatural'. The lyrics of the song that appeared at the start of that particular episode ( the last episode of Season 2 ) stunned me and I sought out the full song.
"Carry on my wayward son
There'll be peace when you are done.
Lay your weary head to rest
Don't you cry no more."

It's "Carry on, my wayward son" by Kansas. The video too is apt for this post. It depicts the 2 brothers meeting.. and then losing their dad. The lyrics and the guitarwork are par excellence.

Do me a favour. Don't delay what you wanna tell your parents. Time is a lot shorter than you think sometimes. If you can find the time to spare for that girl who laughs at your silly jokes, surely there's time for the hand that fed you little 'rice aeroplanes' when you were a kid and waited for you to come back from school... every day. Because while you may have grown too old for those silly rice plane, somewhere there's a mom and dad who'd love to feed them to you again. For old times sake.

35 bubblegums and candies

I always wanted to attend a book launch. It’s just one of those things, you know. You see it so often in movies and all, but you never expect to actually be able to go for one.

Well, I’m really glad that when I did go for one finally, it was Preeti’s “34 Bubblegums and Candies”. Preeti of course, is no stranger to most of us in the virtual world ( come to think of it, I think that applies just as much in the real world too ! ). Her blog is hugely popular and in person too she is a bundle of infectious joy. After so many requests from so many people, finally, she did put her heart into it and release her first book this month, based primarily on articles from her blog.

Watching her interact with the audience at her book launch, sign autographs or answer our questions, you’d never guess that this was a first time author. There is a confidence in her that speaks a lot in itself ; she can afford to be confident too, because this really is a great book for everyone. There is just so much in these 146 pages on offer for you... you can see her hubby being pitted against John Cena ( and winning without lifting a finger ) or you can sit back and reflect on the truth behind human ‘Radiators and Drains’. You can watch how plain words can move you in ‘My Special Friend’ ( it’s been my favourite from her before, and it still holds that place today ) or just admire the random acts of ‘The Stranger’. Oh ya, or you could conversely just learn the perils of doing favours to impress two women as 2 caretakers found out in ‘Sly Stallone does not open so easily.’

You see, each story gives you the chance to sit back and think. About the various opportunities life really offers us if we actually bother to notice them. And I think that’s where the book wins. Moreover, being blogposts, they’re satisfyingly short for the ‘I’m too busy’ man, funny enough for the ‘I hate serious stuff’ teen and thought provoking enough for the ‘I’m transcendental’ dude.
This book is definitely worth a read, especially for those cynics out there who sneer dismissively at the term blogger. If you want proof of what talent exists in the virtual world, look no further. Jack Canfield is gonna have some sleepless nights if Preeti goes global.

Oh, and by the way, that’s not a typo in the title. There really are 35 stories in the book – the thing is the 35th story is only just beginning. It’s the tale of a young woman , an artist and a writer, just a mother of two, who’s now taken her first steps to becoming a famous author... here’s wishing her the success we know she’s capable of.

A mother's love

Ok. This is just an email forward I received from my brother. Just had to share it.

It's followed by this one line.. "A mother will even sacrifice her life for her child..."

You know what ? It's absolutely true. I can't imagine being as selfless as my own mom, especially when it comes to managing us kids, but she does it. And I figure she ain't the only mom around going the extra mile for her kids, be it by working, praying... or just putting their life on the line for their kids.


For once, I'm glad the dog didn't win.