The Demon

"I have something to tell you...!"

The little girl shifted her gaze to the window. It was raining heavily by the normal standards. Rittika detested rains unlike young girls of her age. She detested the rumbling cry of thunder, the howls of the wind. She said that it made her feel that God was angry, really angry with somebody. It reminded her of the smacks that she received when she failed to answer the sum correctly at her tuition. It always scared her, left her feeling mortified. Yet as she was looking at her mother through the eyes of a six-year old, she knew that she wouldn't be really happy to receive the news she was about to break in. After all, her mother was a single parent. Her father had died a long time back in a car accident. No, he wasn't driving the car, but the large vehicle had vroomed over his body of flesh and blood, smashing his intestines, crushing his bones. The onlookers had said that that he had tried to seek help till his last breath. But the public was too scared to help him. They were mortified too. The killer car was after all driven by a minister's son and his drunken pals. Nobody wished to get into trouble for some dead body, whom they didn't even know in person. The man's time had come. He was safer in heaven..probably would be even happier.

But Rittika's mother was a strong woman. She knew that the world wouldn't stop for her loss. She needed to pick herself up again and continue to live for her only child. She needed to give her a good life, good education. She needed to be both her father ad mother. Rittika was too young to realize what she had lost or who she had lost forever. It really perplexed her to see her mother crying her to sleep at night. She didn't understand when relatives flooded her house to offer condolence. Rittika was too young to understand anything. And that turned into a problem. You see, Rittika's mother wanted to give her the best education possible. After all, the least she wanted was people reminding her that her husband was no more to support her. She did not wish Rittika's grades to get affected in any way. But with one loss weighing down her thin frame of shoulders, she had to brace up for the office job that she had taken up lately. She needed to earn. She needed to earn enough to keep the fuels burning. But with all the wolves pouncing on her in the world outside, she was too tired to help Rittika understand that 5X5= 25 and not 26. So, like all busy people, she took up the next best possible alternative. She hired a tutor. This man had been highly recommended for his efficiency by the neighbours. In fact it was said that under his tutelage even a dumb student could crack the IITs! Well, all was well with the hyperbole and Rittika's mother was nevertheless assured that he could teach her dear daughter the tables to pass her examination. However, there was one problem. The tutor had to step inside her house in her absence as she usually worked late at nights in her office to fetch the overtime money. The willing neighbour, one Mrs. Singh, gladly came to her rescue and offered to babysit Rittika at those times. Nobody knew one thing. Mrs. Singh had the reputation of dozing off for hours at the slightest given chance.She could well put  a certain Kumbhakarna to shame.For the same reason her own husband never trusted her alone with the house. But Rittika's mom didn't know this. And how could she?

Well, everything was fine initially. Rittika was frightened of her tutor due to some reason but she managed to score decent marks at Maths every time. But gradually, Rittika had been subject to illusions, it may seem. She complained of a demon living inside her room, who visited her in the dark, and caused her a lot of pain. Now,Rittika's mother was fighting demons of her own back in office where vultures in suits and ties were swooping down on her from every corner to ask if she was 'available'. So much for all talks on gender equality. However, Rittika's mother left no stone unturned to coax her little child believe that demons don't exist. Demons existed only in our mind, in the bad people we might come across. But her room was  the sanctum of the divine which would never allow her any harm. Yet all her attempts seemed fruitless. Rittika looked scared every time. Scared of anyone touching her. She had never been so quiet. Her eyes were always on the look out of the demon. And she still hated her tutor. Rittika's mother would often enquire Mrs. Singh about the tutor's behaviour with her daughter. The seventy-year old woman would comfort her by saying that he was always polite and cordial, trying to be friendly with the girl..but the girl never strangely reciprocated the politeness."It's so typical of children to hate their tutors at times. After all, they give them additional homework and make them do stuff that they don't like...i.e studying."

Days crawled by. And then came today. Rittika's mother had come home early. After all it is not everyday that it pours cats and dogs in a manner of drowning the city. She feared that if she wouldn't hurry, she would be left stranded in the lonely cubicle of her office.She took the bus home and reached her apartment in about 20 minutes. It was 7pm. The rain was devouring the roads,hindering clear vision. She could see from  the distance the lights in her house. Rittika  was in there with her tutor. She could never really understand why Rittika disliked that middle-aged man. He was not handsome by way of appearance but he had a charming smile. And then he was really dutiful and helped Rittika do well in her tests. "Kids are confusing", she thought to herself. She took the elevator and in no time she was standing outside her door.  She rang the door bell once. No answer.She rang the door bell again. No answer. "Strange" . Se called out for Mrs. Singh, tapped the door and rang the door bell again, and again and again..till finally there was that familiar sound of unlocking....

"What is wrong with you? Why didn't you...What's all this red on your dress..is it bloo..." She couldn't wait to finish her sentence. Her little darling daughter was standing right before her eyes, covered in someone's blood. She could see the figure of a large woman slumped into her armchair, facing television on full volume.She could see a few books lying on the table across. She could feel her room circling all around her. She was sure that she was dreaming. She sank to her knees. She did not know what to say.

It was still raining hard. Rittika detested rains. She gazed at the window. "I have something to tell you...! Ma..." She put her hands behind her back as if she were to recite a poem. She was looking down at her pink shoes, spotted with drops of red. "I have killed the demon." A lifeless body of the middle-aged man was lying in a pool of blood with a knife plunged deep in his heart. And then it dawned upon the child's mother.."Make them do stuff that they didn't like..."

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda

And this post was adjudged a WOW post ......

I have something to tell you

I have something to tell you...!

You have been living a web of lies.

Lost in the castle of deception.

Yes, you're trapped, disillusioned.

And there is perhaps no escape possible.

Wait..did I just say 'perhaps'?

Stain my lips with the word of probability?

Ah! I see...hope never dies...

They say hope lives on deep inside us.

This hope carries us forward.

But where are you going?

There's nothing in there...nothing that you'll hope to see.

In the barren deserts of Time skeletons fill the space.

Skeletons who spoke once,

Thought once, reasoned once...loved once..

But love's labour's lost.

No love to water those dark pupils of yours.

The water has dried up..the sun is dead.

It's dark here, dark there..dark everywhere.

A pain..an excruciating pain beyond tolerance is filling up my head.

I can take this no more..no more live this lie..be a part of it...

Hostile faces surround us.

Colours,green and red, merge into one..anarchy..sheer anarchy!

As I make an attempt to feel the feeling

I perceive the castle collapsing and burying you, me and everyone

Under its debris.

Time has run out.

The show is over...awake now...

But wait, do I see a waking dream?

Indeed do we wake... or sleep?

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda

(Drum roll)....And this post was adjudged a WOW post...on cloud nine.....

What'll make Susan happy?

Will a box full of chocolates covered in thick caramel?

Or a truck full of dreams of a life free of hassle?

Or a pair of new shoes with a matching pretty frock?

Or a pen and a bag or an expensive rock?

Or an opportunity to travel lands afar?

Or a video game where characters crush monsters bizarre?

Or a promise of  a wedding with the grandest banquet you've ever seen?

Or a walk on the beach on a breezy summer evening?

Or the bite of a mouth-watering pastry?

Or a piece of spectacular jewellery?

Tell me Susan, do you want a car or a plane?

What'll make you happy?... I ask again.

Neither jewellery nor luxury,

Neither life free of cares,

Neither a box full of candy

Nor a game with thrilling adventures.

Neither the astounding sight of the countries afar 

Nor the jarring sound of machines pumping at par.

I care very little for a bejeweled attire,

It cannot give me the peace I so now desire.

Neither a wedding nor the fanfare,

All these are fruitless, means nothing I swear

I want you Papa to love me like your own,

I want you to be by my side from night to noon.

I want you to be less busy,

Less angry,more calm,

I want you to smile a little more till you can

Not buy me with pleasures: dull and transient,

I want us to be happy, being alive to each moment.

Be Bold Stay Real

We are human beings. We live in a politically driven universe founded on and nurtured by history. All our actions, all our emotional responses are moulded by external surroundings which we reckon as society. As a student of literature, my professors introduced me to the complex concept of' modernism' and 'post-modernism' stating that the former is replete with signs of decay, where we struggle through a thriving civilization turning into a wasteland and the latter being an embodiment of chaos and anarchy at times, where there are many questions, but very few answers. The fragmented souls, the failure of language, the structures and the shattering of the same made me ask one question over and over again: Are human beings stupid? With all the education we have acquired since childhood, with all the cramming up of do's and dont's of a good and stable life, with able bodied, smart  people forming governments, deciding our present and future, why do we still make mistakes? Why are we still stuck in the rut? Why are we still the blood-stained victims of mis-governance? After all, each one of us is literate in our culture's history, either orally or through school's textbooks. We now know that the geographical divides, class and caste mean nothing as we all strive towards a common goal- the goal of bettering the human race and incidentally ourselves too in the same process. We have been made to stare into the abyss of wrong doings through various myths and folklore, told and re-told in a languorous tone over many generations. Yet we revel in the path of deceit and greed. Ignorance is still bliss where independence is mutilated in the hands of the powerful. And all that we do is sit and silently suffer while the world collapses right before our eyes.

All throughout our lives we are urged by our teachers and our well wishers to be honest and truthful, to be real, and not hide behind a mask of pretence, concealing a grotesque and ugly heart.However in the complexity of the multi-layered society, where people cannot be polarized into black and white, bitterness seeps in. This bitterness results from the quest of Truth which itself is delusional. The consequent rage questions the reality of the situations we live in. For centuries, we have known that women should be treated with respect. But what is happening in India today?India which is also addressed as Bharat Mata, which glorifies womanhood, is the cemetery for the same.The carcass of women lies buried in a nondescript corner of the universe. Women all over the country hang their heads in shame as the intelligent, educated people counsel 'the second sex' to dress less provocatively. Is this the reality that we should be tutored to accept? The country which boasts of secularism and democracy is now driven by the reigns of communalism and sectarianism. Is this the reality that the forefathers of the Indian Constitution wanted to demonstrate? Was it for this the freedom fighters of varied class and caste sacrificed their lives? Freedom of expression lies either muted or strangled. We cower under the shadows of fear. It is the century of the puppets- the playthings of mighty.And all we can do is look for some sympathy and rue over our Fate, which some still believe to be monitored by an unworldly power.How sad!

However,a change is indeed taking place. Today slowly and steadily people are taking risks, listening to their inner voice and doing the unthinkable. We have examples of the likes Mr. Dhirubhai Ambani, raising their fortunes through sheer hard work and experimenting with the fundamentals of business. We have Indian cinema evolving its technique, merging glamour with interesting content,  thanks to directors like Dibakar Banerjee, Anurag Kashyap and Vikramaditya Motwane. We have witnessed the global call for the acceptance of queer , where an individual gets the right to choose his gender without succumbing to shame and taunts. We are the children of the Brave New World, where slowly and steadily we are taking strides into the unexplored and the hitherto unknown.

We are human beings. We are the masters of our own destiny. We make our choices and choose our paths. The power to make this choice lies in our very own hands. We only need to realize and acknowledge this power bestowed upon us. It is we who have the power to right the wrong, do away with the old, bring in the new. All we need to do is find a voice. Perhaps in the likeliness of Mahatma Gandhi or Subhash Chandra Bose. Or perhaps in the likeliness of Rabindranath Tagore or Kazi Nazrul Islam, wielding their pens, arousing the weak-willed. It is time to say 'no' to what we dislike and be fearless in attitude. It is time to be bold and stay real; not to the reality of the deteriorating circumstances but to discover the source of the real from our hearts and express our true selves without resorting to hypocrisy. If we stay put, if we are united, nothing is impossible. After all, history bears witness to humankind's eternal struggle, to change and evolve, to prosper. After all, we are the rational, the superior race who has explored the world that lies beyond. All we need  is to be assertive,be aware, be bold, be the change that we wish to see in the world. Be real.

I am writing on Be Bold Stay Real at BlogAdda

Even if I were broke

Even if I were broke,

I would always take note ,

Of how you feel 

About me.

Every moment of the day,

I would take care,

Of all your dreams,

Of all you love,my baby.

Even if I were broke,

I would never overlook,

That silent tear

Tearing us apart.

Every minute of the year,

I promise you that

My love'll go strong

I'll never do you wrong,believe me.

Even if I were broke,

Our love would soak

Up all the pains,

And the remains

Of sorrow.

We will always,

Till the end of our days,

Live a beautiful today and tomorrow.

My Liebster Blog Award

Appreciation is a tool that motivates one to make progress by leaps and bounds. Recognition of your hard work is always welcomed whole-heartedly. It turns your day worthwhile and makes you smile widely from ear to ear (just as I am doing now). Such a recognition came knocking on my door courtesy fellow blogger Chaitanya, who read my posts and found my poems interesting. He awarded me the Liebster Blog Award.   (Yipeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!) 

Now you must be wondering what this means? 

To quote from Chaitanya's blog:

(http://chaitanyavs.wordpress.com/2013/06/04/my-liebster-blog-award-im-a-liebster-blogster/ )

What is a Liebster?

" It’s a blogger-to-blogger award that tells a fellow newbie blogger that they are making the world a more interesting /intellectual /funny /better place. For a lot of us, it comes just when we’re facing that first blogger’s block or wondering if it’s all worth it. For the rest, it’s a shower of accolades. Either way, it’s a great thing. There are no certificates or trophies, but hey, appreciation from a fellow blogger is always valued.

The Liebster Award is given to upcoming bloggers who have less than 200 followers. 

So, what is a Liebster?  The meaning: Liebster is German and means sweetest, kindest, nicest, dearest, beloved, lovely, kind, pleasant, valued, cute, endearing, and welcome. "

Now, with honour comes responsibility. And mine is to list 11 random facts about myself, answer 11 questions that Chaitanya has set me and nominate 11 new bloggers(less than 200 followers) to bask in the Leibster glow.After nominating them, I need to go back to their page and tell them about the award. (Hence, be happy and spread the joy.)

So here comes the 11 random facts about myself:

• I am a day-dreamer. I love to build castles in the air, probably choreograph a musical and perform in the same. My mind speaks a lot to me. In fact, I am a better writer, better dancer and the best person ever inside my head!

• I am addicted to chocolates. There was a time when I would eat five bars of Cadbury Daily Milk in one single day.It's the reason behind my multiple root-canal treatments. (wink wink)

• I enjoy talking and can talk nineteen to a dozen...in fact nothing excites me better than a good conversational exchange. 

• I am passionate about writing. It can be anything- an article or a poem or even a small note, but I cannot spend a day without writing or venting out my thoughts in the written form.

• I am good at mimicking people around me...the way they talk, the way they walk..their  mannerisms...(Now, this attribute is taken to be hilarious by some and annoying by few...)

• I love observing people around me. At times I shamelessly eavesdrop while pretending to drink my cup of coffee at the corner table . Their conversation provides me with food for thought. It alters my perspective of life around me. At times it gives me a God-like feeling where I can chuckle at someone's foolishness and be amazed by one's simplicity....all at once!

• I am obsessive about cleanliness. Everything has to be organized,neat and tidy in my room. 

• I love reading novels. They provide me with a glimpse of an alternate reality. That's fascinating. I enjoy reading Jane Austen, Charlotte Bronte, Oscar Wilde, Amitav Ghosh, Kafka, Murakami to name a few. 

• I always wanted to be an actor since childhood. But sensing the impracticality of my dream, I switched to becoming a teacher. I love my job, and looking back, I don't regret my decision at all. 

• I used to stammer back in school. In fact, my problem was so severe that my friends mocked at me publicly at times. However, I was a braveheart since childhood. Despite my handicap, I continued to participate in Recitation competitions, where I bagged the first prize every time. I somehow never stammered on stage...I don't know why. I guess I chose my words very carefully...

• Lastly, although I appear to be an extrovert, I am an introvert to the core. It is very difficult for me to open up to strangers. Hence, many misjudge me at first and label me a snob. Then again,to make matters worse, I am extremely prone to mood-swings. At times I am extremely friendly and I keep talking endlessly. And again at times I feel morose and sullen. 

Well, if you have patiently gone through this list, you now know 80% of Neelima Chakraborty. The rest is unpredictable (seriously!) To know more, do read my blogs !!!

Now, here are the answers of the questions put forward by Chaitanya:

1) I blog because I want to.....
Ans. I blog because I want to express myself.

2) We all have articles we wrote with gusto but never published onto our blogs. What’s yours and why didn't you publish it?

Ans. There  was this article on my experiences in Lady Brabourne College hostel. I failed to publish it because there was too much of me in it. I felt (to quote from 'The Picture Of Dorian Gray')as if I was exposed. It made me feel vulnerable. Hence, I didn't publish it. However, I modified it a little, altered a few facts and published it later under the name "Lady Brabourne and I".

3) What’s your idea of the perfect blog?

Ans. My idea of a perfect blog is one that is offbeat and personal, one which echoes true sentiments...one that moves me and makes me want to read the blog again and again. 

4) There’s always a song, a book or a movie that changes our lives. What’s yours and how did it change your life?

Ans. Hmm...A book that changed my life recently was 'The Picture of Dorian Gray' by Oscar Wilde. It redefined the parameters of art and aesthetics. Somehow it helped me understand life better with all its  uncertainties. Well, when I was a child I was always hooked to "The Adventures of The Wishing Chair" by Enid Blyton. Reading those tales of fantasy, I started believing in the extraordinary. It gave wings to my imagination and it came to my rescue  whenever I was sad and lonely. On the other hand, there are many movies that have affected my understanding of life. You may say they have offered me an escape from the everyday drudgery. Example, the visual details of Apur Sansar, the tale of a special child 'Anjali', the simple story of the quest of a child for her lost dog-'Halo' and many more. 

5) What’s that memory that haunts you and makes you cringe in embarrassment?

Ans. Going back to my stammering days, there was a time I failed to read a complete sentence in my second language Hindi classes without stammering a zillion times. In fact, I used to feign illness every time I was asked to read. While I battled my public humiliation, my classmates always had a hearty laugh at my cost. 

6) What does the inner child in you enjoy doing the most?

Ans. The inner child in me wants to run about the entire stretch of the room, squeal with joy, have a good time with friends and spread sunshine wherever she goes. 

7) What would you do if no one’s watching?

Ans. If no one's watching me, I would break into a jig to the tunes of the latest Bollywood number.

        P.S. I am a terrible dancer.

8) If you were an item on a restaurant menu, what would you be and why?

Ans. If I were an item on a restaurant menu, I would choose to be a cup of hot coffee because people would sip into me each time while making the most important decisions of their life. I would be with him/her in his/her good and bad times and my caffeine would help him/her to relax and get his/her life back on track. As some say, a lot can happen over a cup of coffee!

9) Who do you wish would compliment you on your blog?

Ans. Nobody in particular, everybody in general...I appreciate each of my reader's opinion of the posts in my blog. 

10) If you weren't in the career that you are now, what would you be doing?

Ans. If I weren't a teacher, I would have joined my grandfather's confectionery business and would have looked after it. Or may be, I would have turned into a writer and published a book or two. 

11) Describe your writing style in 5 words.

Ans. Lyrical, Lucid, Crisp, Poetic, Emphatic. 

My nominations for Liebster:

1. http://maitrasagnik.blogspot.in/ Sagnik Maitra
2. http://makeachange1.wordpress.com/  Ankita Singhal
3. http://sammed.blogspot.in/  Sam
4. http://bookandmoviereviewra.wordpress.com/
5. http://noshitsankalp.blogspot.in/ Sankalp
6. http://hibasfe.blogspot.in
7. http://vicky-pedia.blogspot.in  Vikas
8. http://potboilers.blogspot.in  Smith Mehta
9. http://gravityoflife.blogspot.ae/
10. http://iamamlan.blogspot.in  Amlan Jyoti Das
11. http://storyoflifeandadventures.wordpress.com

My questions to the above winners:

1. Who is your role model in life and why? 
2. Who is your favourite fictional character (books or movies) and why?
3. Have you ever come across writer's block? Suggest some ways to overcome it.
4. What will be your next blog about?
5. If you get an opportunity to interview a person who is now dead, who would you interview and why?
6. Define "Fun" in your own words.
7. Describe the most memorable incident in your life.
8. If you are chosen to play the lead role in a film,

• Who would you like to be directed by?
• Who would play the lead opposite you and why?
• Give the title of your film.

      9. Imagine you have come to know from your trusted doctor that you have just another     

          24 hours to live. Enlist the things that you would like to do before you breathe last. 

     10. What is that one thing that gets you really angry?

     11. What is the difference between being alive and truly living?

Winners, please note:

• On receiving the Liebster award, you need to post 11 random facts about yourself.
• Answer the questions that I have set for you. Then create 11 new questions for the bloggers you  pass the award to.
• Choose 11 new bloggers with less than 200 followers to pass the award to and link them in your post.
• Go to their page and tell them about the award.
• No tag backs.

 Congratulations and good luck, dear bloggers....Keep blogging :)

A child's thought

The bell rings "ding dong" from someplace afar,

I rush to my window, clinging to the iron bar.

A group of school children pass under my house,

Shouting cries of joy, while I gaze with remorse.

I can see their perfect bodies, shapely arms and legs,

I can see their faces not wrinkled with ugly creases.

I see that their eyes are big and beautiful,

They're nothing like me...strange and unusual.

I've often heard people call me 'abnormal',

But my mother tells me that I'm different, I'm special!

Yet Mommy doesn't permit me to play outside,

She says too much sun may hurt my little eyes.

A tutor comes home and teaches me alphabets,

But these books are weird, full of broken shapes and figures.

I still don't understand why they stare so hard,

When I fail to express emotions...they call me 'retard'.

They fall silent ,while my family looks despondent,

As if I am a lunatic, in need of medical attention.

I don't understand many words that people say to me,

They console me for nothing, weeping tears of mock pity.

Who is a 'retard', who is 'abnormal'? Who really decides?

I'm born with my very own Fate which someday I'll have to exercise.

In spite of the courage I show,

I stare wistfully out of my window,

Will there ever come a day when I'll run with these children?

Run far far away and discover my very own Neverland?

Will I be loved by all, will I be given an opportunity?

To show that I need no sympathy and definitely, no charity?

The green grass sways softly, the bee buzzes by,

The day comes to a close, the sun kisses me goodbye.

Tomorrow will be another day, another day of expectations,

Tomorrow may be the day when I get to fulfil my aspirations...

I dream a dream, while gradually

 Darkness descends on my deformity,

With misty eyes,

 I now seem to realize

Being differently-abled, it is highly probable

That my journey'll be difficult...but not impossible.