The Deserted Garden

                                                               1.

                                                  THE FIRST NIGHT

                                           Scroll & Quill Publications

G-66, Shaheen Baugh, Kalindikunj, Noida Road, New Delhi – 110025

     'Delight yourself in the Lord, and he will give you the Desires of Your Heart'

                                                                                                     –Psalm 37:4 ESV

 

     For the Desk of:

Her Excellency Ms. Emily Mathias,

Big Pen Publications, Bath,

Englaland- The Land of Angles

United Kingdom of Great Britain

     From the Desk of:

Samar Gibran,

Poet, Author and Spec Screenwriter,

Scroll & Quill Publications,

New Delhi - 110025

Ms. Mathias,

                    Madam.

          First of all, I humbly pray to your majesty to bestow upon me your auspicious apologies for distracting you from your busy schedule. Today, when a post on a social media site advertised, 'Ms. Emily Mathias of reputed Big Pen Publications is paying her visit to India next fortnight', I got delighted; my ecstasies were on cloud nine!

          Now, you're visiting us this fortnight, Your Excellency. Aren't you? Social media has never-ending history of propagating faux stories and it is reliable in these matters; and many of us deceive ourselves by trusting those posts blindly. Alas, Bitter Truth! That's why I want to ask you directly if you really are coming to India. Because if you're I've something important to narrate to you. See, the post read, 'Ms. Mathias is on mission: she wants to learn the unsung-unusual love stories of India!'

          Further, the content of the post read, 'Mr. Mathias wants to meet some Indian litterateurs and hear the love sagas from their own lips.' My blood froze. If anyone knows the truth of present day love, it's me; only me, I guess!

          Apparently, Madam, you British are far ahead of us in every respect, except that you don't have pure love stories. And our nation though has no drinking water, electricity, sewage system, public transportation, sense of hygiene, discipline, courtesy, and/or punctuality; does have infinite God men and love stories elegantly woven in each and every lane! India never runs out of these two blessings. Neither your countrymen nor most of our today's people are good in understanding the beauty and purity of true love's sorcery! For most of us here is love her, arouse her and leave her; as every Sunday is Valentine's Day for most of the employees of IT sector in commercial capitals and Village youths already have booked the sugarcane fields and wrecks of haunted old houses as their OYO hotels. Just kidding, Madam!

                    Oh Yea, I still remember-

          One blessed dawn, lifting the dark blanket of night from its pillow of the mountain peak, the sun lifted up its head and saw that the valley's heart was filled with ecstatic season of splendid spring graciously and the branches of love had sprouted generously ensnaring the entire scenario within its canopy. Innumerable blossoms of moments past had already begun to intoxicate the air, half asleep- half awake, at early morning. Even the euphoric beats of heart bore witness that the cool breezes wore chiming anklets to give chimes to the early puffs of cool air. Looking out at the cascading rivulet sleepily at the small hours of morning, one could definitely see it rustling at one side reverentially and the other side dried up on the sands of the time. As it flows in wave upon wave, every moment seemed new. Yeah! This life which encompasses joy and grief, meetings as well as partings and a sense- that time is flowing like a river, complimented as it flows, 'The august spring's heart is blissful, and wings of adore have spread out in the vast green fields'

          Alarm clock on the study table started to clang over and over. 'Ufoo…' She cried invariably, throwing the warm blanket away, 'Jesus better knows why this damn clock is always jealous of me, whenever passionate cold biting winds are blowing out there and I am shrouded in my thick warm blanket,' she murmured and stopped the tickling clock. If it was not that day, she would definitely pull the blanket over her head and run into sound sleep again. I know; she sleeps the entire day during holidays!! 'O my God! It's already half past six, and that fellow might have waiting me there' she agitatedly misstated, breathing the dawn's first breath. She set herself up trembling, robed in warm velvet jacket and rushed out to university's church in hurry lest I might take the incident seriously; she knew very well that even a minute misunderstanding too drowns me into the sea of embarrassment- Resulting in inferiority complex! I think I was emotionally quite weak…

          Statue of Jesus Christ was hanging piously on the holy cross and I was standing facing the Jesus. She actually had summoned me to the church for the apology. Being honest to my words, I came there on time and waited her mulling; also, prayed to Lord Jesus to ease my task!

                                                                           *

          Ms. Mathias, deadly cold of Delhi shivered me a lot and habitually reminded me the hot strong cappuccino, which my mother used to give me. 'Why won't that holy warmth blow its love in this orphan-cradle once again' I used to shed tears in silence under the blanket or under the showers every time and again. Playing gully cricket in those vast fields of my village on the banks of Arabian Sea and enjoying the sepia-mode-dusk on the sea shore playing kabaddi, frequently invited me to my native. Here I had no big friend circle and no playground. Just to flaunt our literacy status before our relatives, my father pushed me to New Delhi for my masters; and had planned to send me to UK or US for my doctorate. Behind the university, there was a lull undersized deserted garden and sometimes I used to go there to study or to create fabricated stories in my mind; I think here I developed my ability to visualize the stories before penning it on the papers and the sense of virtual fantasies to deceive myself- as literature enthusiasts are always broken cause they've unrealistic expectations of romance! Cascades of all the hallucinated stories rustled my restless heart, creating oasis of mysticisms, making the odyssey of my life a virtual fantasy. But, there obstinate boredom easily conquered me.

          Soon after the curtains of twilight starts contrasting- wearing the bracelets of shimmering stars, as the serene night started ostentating on the wide skies, my fatigue heart and the passionate biting winds start rocking the cradle of my tired eyes. But, my restless soul, driven by the whirlpools of illogical thoughts and concocted tales- those never ceased to happen or happened, left me cynical and resentful, resulting in elegantly embroidering another sleepless night in the aimless odyssey of life! On sleepless nights, my restless heart meandered into the excruciating thorny paths of days past reminiscing the sagas of solemn bliss vaporizing throughout the snapshot of natural scenario… The kiss of love ended up being a sweet poison- murdering ruthlessly the peace of mind born from the beatification enriched from the glittering blankets of twinkling stars on night skies to the dawn's dew wet green carpet!

          Life, a rustling rivulet- flowing from the dawn to dusk, is an enigmatic brook of joys and sorrows. The gallant ogler on the banks of time, shackled by the gauntlet of burning desires, trudges through the hazy pasture of his days with fake cherubic smile embroidered on his masked face, till the sepulchral shadow falls upon him. He betrays himself by not glorifying the kaleidoscopic illusions beautified from the droplets of rain under blistering rays of dawn to the ochre waves of dusk on the canvas of worldwide skies, due to uncompromised objective of arranging the debris of his never quenching greed into the string of the rosary of his life…!

          I was such a gallant ogler in trance, betraying myself to the embroidered masked face! So, I wanted to return my native at earliest possible moment. But, the fragrance of my unaccomplished desire smelt out its sweetness.

                                                                           *

          'I'm sorry! I blurted out some insane clauses brusquely against you, yesterday' she pleaded me, as she entered the church. 'That's not a big deal, Alia. Such petty things are the part of life; and just leaving them ignored is art of life… I don't mind those silly brawls' smilingly I replied and stepped down few steps, came near her and thought, 'if I simply sit wailing about these silly things, I'll never get my work done…' 

          'Your messy pranks fostered a wave of fury in my mind' taking the subject seriously, she said 'it was my new dress, on which you had toasted the champagne and distorted it away'. Before I could answer in those inexplicable phrases which could please her, I felt blushed. Actually, I wanted to say something; something which I had been waiting to say from that day, when I saw her for the first time. Even now I couldn't break the ice though I tried my best.

          'Men of emotions can never conquer anything prior to others' so I wanted to blow my Pyrrhic victory trumpet over her before anyone else. Even Alia was uneasy to snap anything before meek version of myself. Before I could overcome my hesitation, Gufran entered the Church. Gufran - my biggest enemy in Delhi always interfered between us and tried his best to impress my Alia! Oh sorry… She was never mine!

          I looked at him and wished loathly with a greeting smile. Gufran responding back with a counter smile came to me and interrupted our converse, As usual!!

          'What's good? How both you come early morning to the Church?' Gufran asked Alia.

          'Nothing's uncommon. Samar had, yesterday, toasted champagne on me'

          'Gibran, don't you know that Alia's an emotional fool?' Gufran asked.

          'Shut up, Stupid' Alia slowly punched on Gufran's back, smilingly.

          'Forget it, Alia… from tomorrow onwards we've to write the Exams' I tried to change the topic and bring some seriousness in our chitchat. 'If we keep chattering here, we have to scribble on answer sheets'

          'The stress of exams is for we guys; you can easily score 90+, without any headache' luscious Alia opined and asked, 'Am I wrong, Mr. Samar Gibran?'

          'Yea... yea… He's a versatile of our university. His several irons are in the blazing fire' Gufran unwillingly upheld her opinion, and smile from his face dissolved showing his fangs to me. Emotions are displayed on Gufran's face once in a blue moon. But, my appraisal weakens him to show off his jealousy. 

          The big-bronze-bell in belfry started banging, to kick off pure morning matins; university-staffs, students started entering the church. Priest climbed the pedestal and started reciting the holy verses of the Bible and those of Psalms. Everyone whirred along his recitation. So pious was the environment such that even a trace of profanity couldn't be seen anywhere. Oh, sorry! A bit of profane jealousy dwelled at the bottom of Gufran's heart. But, his jocular words and hearty smile canopied it in such a way that it didn't came in anybody's observation. He had jealousy on my scintillating academic performance and cultural soundness. After the prayers everyone marched out the university-church.

          'I must have my breakfast. Here I leave' saying thus, Alia left me and went ahead to canteen.

                             'Good bye' I bid farewell 'Let's catch up next time!'

                                                                           *

                              10 weeks transformation: From Fat to Fit

                                        Call Mr. Phogat at 

                              ROYAL INDIAN GYMNASIUM: 8197789965

          The mascot of the gym- an American with enormous white muscles- smiled at me from above the slogan.

          Opposite to it was:

                              'BLACKDOG' ENGLISH LIQUOR SHOPPEE

                                   Indian-Made Foreign Liquor Sold Here

          Few young Indian lasses, in their short skirts, swaying their shiny thighs made pegs for the drunkards there. Broken due to love failures, tensed by academic failure or depressed by business failure guys often go there and go high on the pegs; some sons of rich enjoys the strip dance and ends up dipping their beaks into dancer's opening.

          Already broken, I decided neither to join the gym nor booze till my liver rots- as only solution to retaliate the unfaithful girls. The more we love one sided, the more we sink into the ocean of eternal bliss and more we incline to drive ourselves towards passionate gains encapsulating and garnishing the odyssey of life in gladdened ecstasies. I knew that the key to Divinity and Saintly vision is always found in heart and patience. But, the sorcery of enchanted smile engineered the ripples of concordances, charming the clamorous heart and hallucinating me to visualize all the fantasies with my eyes open!

          Alas! By the mellow puffs of calm wind, the caravan of dreams shattered; making me realize that the first impressions are embroidered with graceful faux faces!! In the deep slumber of faux self-importance, mesmerized and hypnotized by the worldly greed, everyone is caged in the prison of their own burning desires!

          But the shadow, an epitome of faithfulness, is the quivering companion in never-ending solitude. Henceforth, after the breakup or failure in love story makes one either to join gymnasium and make himself an Arnold Schwarzenegger or go on wines and spirits!

          Trust me, Madam... I preferred neither the gymnasium nor the wine!

          I am different! I am intelligent!

                                                                          *

          After brewing the last sip of her hot affogato, she slithered swiftly and jumped on my body like a spitting cobra; rested her head on my chest and started caressing the hairs on my chest. Thirst in her eyes was evident for the aroused passions she had to celebrate this night. She had already undone her braid and had undressed herself everything to the birthday suit; except the bathrobe. As I pulled hard on the smoking pipe, she unrobed her bathrobe and lit off the lights. Total Darkness!

          All I could feel her smooches on my nape and could smell the fragrance of her shampoo in the passionate darkness!

          'The aroma of your deodorant arouses all my passions and inspires me to foreplay with you for hours together' she whispered seductively in my ears.

          'I wish I could divorce you both and shall marry you'

          'We must wait for few more months. He's about to sign the contract with a foreign Production House. The moment he signs it, we'll be huge. After it, I'll divorce him with all his money in my account. Later, we can thereafter… Are you getting me?'

          'Yea… Yea… I am all ears!'

          'Then why are you hurrying? Don't you know about his next project?'

          'I know… I know… Till then, if you bear my child in your womb, then it'll be disaster for us both!' I forewarned.

          'Disasters are for poor and helpless. We can abort our foetus in no time!'

          I loosed my control over the lust and jumped over her to fulfil our lust. Those were intoxicated flowery nights of trance for both of us at Sheraton Hotel in Bangalore! Biting cold winds blew outside, Air conditioners froze the room and we celebrated our lust under the thick warm blanket. I found my heaven in her warm cwtch. She kicked off our play with a long breathless lip-lock; followed to it, we relived our best moments by adult talks, miming each other's moves, playing kissing games, massaging her bosoms and I gave her caressing passionate nipplegasms. Later, as ignited by passions, when I dipped beak into her opening, I could only hear her moaning and orgasms in the pitch silky darkness!!!

                                                                           *

          It wasn't uncommon for me to warm my restless heart by meeting Alia every time and then. Whenever I couldn't meet her, I used to feel depressed and hopeless. I always felt so right to have her before myself only, due to my possessiveness; I wanted her before me as a devotee desires to have his favorite deity before him! Unlike others' wants, mine wasn't that sort of it, but everyday was about something entirely different- comfort, sharing and mental nourishment, so that I could face the day boldly. Looking her gave me strength enough to face all the obstacles fearlessly. It was obviously insane, to think that I was of wrong intention; I never thought of anything immoral as our household framed it as... Whatsoever, I always used to get refreshed by looking her cute smiling face and her mellifluous tweeting voice always energized me.

          Last evening, while celebrating Andrew's birthday party- in order to flirt, I toasted the champagne on her. Infuriated by my mischief, she screeched, 'How dare you drench my new dress, you the worthless penny'. But, repenting within a blink of an eye, she pleaded me to meet her in university church next morning. Once again golden opportunity knocked my door. And obviously, I stepped ahead to utilize properly the opportunity which came my way; as it goes without saying. Both had become just friends from last two years, having casual talks not more than five minutes. Though, I tried my best to maintain good friendship with her, but I didn't have good theme to confer with her. Still, those five minutes were worth for me!

                                                                           *

          It was more than four years or more, I've been writing for Mr. P.K. Gupta's production house, by now. Being a screenwriter for films have always fantasized the aspiring writers. But, it's the place where writers are exploited the most. But, Mr. Gupta wasn't like that. He cared me and used to take me to his home for dine sometimes!

          Realizing my mistake of being an introvert as I was in my College and University days, I framed my mind to mingle with everyone- especially, women! My decision of establishing myself as a screenwriter not only helped me to earn more, rather paved me a path to meet models every day. Gradually, I started partying with models and dating them. Here I learned how to behave and talk with girls; How to impress girls!!!

                              How to make any girl fall in love with you!

                                                            Or 

                              How to seduce girls to have sex with you!

          See, when you come to India, and stop at a traffic light, some boy will run up to your car and knock on your window, while holding up a bootlegged copy of an American psychology book, wrapped carefully in cellophane and with a title somewhat like discussed above.

          Don't waste your money on those American books. Many Authors, who've authored such books have led a single life or have divorced their wives in few early years of their marriage. Likewise, Dale Carnegie! Just kidding... They're so yesterday.

                              I am tomorrow.

          Everyday, I started dating a new model, and tried my best to seduce them and tried to make them mine; but used to fail miserably to cherish my desires. Experience started working and I gradually learned to talk to girls and seduce them in just few caressing words. Since, Mr. Gupta liked my screenplays, I never ran out of money. 

          Furthermore, whensoever's my visit to Mr. Gupta's villa, I used to find misunderstandings between the couple and in order to console Mrs. Gupta- namely Anjali, I began caressing her and she gradually by the passage of time, she began inclining towards me. Day after day, we came so close that kisses and cwtches became our normal routine. Many a time, we both have had warmed our bodies under a single blanket.

          One fine day, she called me to their villa. But, when I reached there, I found Anjali madam sitting on her bed and shedding her tears. Curtains were unfurled and there was pitch darkness in the room.

          'Madam, please tell me the reason of calling me here?'

          She didn't answer my question, instead jumped on me and started weeping on my chest. I consoled and hugged her. I smelled the fragrance of her shampoo and passionate desires got ignited. I kissed her on her forehead and inquired the reason for her weeping.

          She explained me that Mr. Gupta has secret affair with a model in US and is having an illegitimate child- An Adulterine! In course of consoling her in the air-conditioned bedroom, we both let loose our senses and I dipped the beak into her opening. Though, she wasn't a virgin, but I found that Mr. Gupta had failed to fulfil her thirst. In the pitch darkness of the air-conditioned bedroom, I got highly intoxicated by the fragrance of the shampoo and deodorant of her. Fragrance of a woman is more enough to kill the sanity of a man; and I was above her for the first time, in mean course. Juvenescence- an episode of psychedelic ecstasies is an elegant meander in the appeasing odyssey of life. In this ignited night of passion, by the ripples of immeasurable vernal euphoria, the machismo heart leaped in the profundity of its quivering seductivity. The rapture of holding the tempests within my bosom, pinned the dreamy elegant sorcery like plucking the stars from the sky to glorifying the glittering worldly life mesmerizing her into soignée trance!

          Two years prior to joining his production house, broken me, purchased a laptop and crushed myself into the darkness of our hostel room and started typing the story in my mind

                              FADE IN:

                              EXT. UNIVERSITY CAMPUS – DAY

                              BOY'S POV:

                                        - A dingy floor, a bottle of beer, a notebook of scribbles

                                        - A feeling of uneasiness...

 

          It is said that judging the book by its cover is lunatic; but, I judged the book by looking at the infrastructure of the library. What a fucking love I had for Alia.

          Two months prior to my decision of establishing myself as a spec screenwriter, I realized that Alia had no interest in me; in fact, she was already madly in love with Gufran!

                                                                           *

                                                               2.

                                                  THE NEXT NIGHT

                                            Scroll & Quill Publications

       G-66, Shaheen Baugh, Kalindikunj, Noida Road, New Delhi – 110025

                                             'The sleepless nights provoke

                                             My nostalgia gripped sensitive heart-

                                             Voyaging through

                                             The passage of elegant snapshot of time,

                                             To wonder about meeting

                                             The unsculpted statue of dreams,

                                             Drenching my parched soul

                                             In her passionate embrace,

                                             Architecturing the history of our chemistry

                                              A Virtual Fantasy!!'

 

     For the Desk of:

Her Excellency Ms. Emily Mathias,

Big Pen Publications, Bath,

Englaland- The Land of Angles

United Kingdom of Great Britain

     From the Desk of:

Samar Gibran,

Dreamer in Trance

Scroll & Quill Publications,

New Delhi - 110025

Ms. Mathias,

Madam.

          When you get here, you'll be told we Indians have had excelled everything from the omelettes on street stalls to spaceships, before Moslems and British stole it all from us.

          Nonsense. The greatest thing to come out of this country in the ten thousand years of its history is the love stories. The tears of broken lover have flowed more than Mother Ganges.

               In the rustling stream of life, everything changes in excursion;

                              Hindering the exhilarations!

                         Likewise the seasons, time changes,

                        Likewise chameleon, face changes,

                         Stories change, so the destinies...

          Even, the Emperors aren't pardoned by the Bending Sickle of Time!

          But, he who is under the shade of the 'True Love', never changes!

          Truly, hearts are warm, when the love meets!!

                    Yea madam. I forgot to narrate it to you...

          Alia was madly in love with Gufran. I misinterpreted her as single. Her small talks with me fantasized to visualize all those non-sense, which I dreamt with my eyes open!

          While studying in pre-university college, I was a lone shy man with hardly any friends. I was often recognized as an introvert and none liked to be in touch with me. Only Jeethu was my close friend and we both shared the similar state of mind- Misogyny! So, both always remained the centre of humiliation in the campus. Even when we entered the university college for our graduation, it was observed that we were on persistence to our old habit. As the saying goes, 'Old habits, die hard' so we were. My obsession for literature inspired me to join the 'literature association' of the college. 

          Extracurricular classes encouraged young litterateurs and provided us the opportunities to read out our own write-ups. First class was conducted as the introductory one, introducing the value of literature in one's life and lecture in-charge gave different ideas to compose write-ups and asked everyone to continue their write-ups beginning with

                              'Jaunting through the passage of time...'

          I hurried in completing my own short story within a week and next week I stiffed my collar to narrate out my write up, utilising the opportunity.

I penned:

                              Jaunting through

                              The passage of time,

                              The wandering heart admired

                              A dreamy beguiling

                              Statue's cherubic smile...!

                              Evening candelas-

                              Ochre as honey and red as wine,

                              In the niche of heart

                              Started burning bright;

                              Arousing the sensations

                              In the flowers!

                              Intoxicated

                              By the joys of first date,

                              The nights of trance blossomed,

                              The shimmering stars ostentated

                              And

                              The pounding heart

                              Toured the celestial utopia...!

          After my narration, lecture asked other students to comment their opinions on my story. A girl pioneered to opine on my story, and I succeeded in recognizing her and remembered her facial aspects. She was Alia!

          After the curricular class I wanted to speak with her, but she had left place silently. I think then cupid aimed his arrow at my heart! Love, shattered debris of ecstasies- arranged in the string of the rosary of fantasies, is the devouring intoxication, anesthetizing the wandering heart into euphoric slumber! The withered rose petals carry infinite sagas of divine love, treasured deep within its bosom. But Alas! Unceasing obsession of a mad lover fails uninterruptedly to bear a soul gentle enough to embrace its burning desires!!

          The days fade in trance, nighing the dreamy nights! And the euphories extinguished the evening lamps, in order to arrange the fragmented fantasies sculpted by the unsculpted statue of dreams... The nights sailing smoothly in the canoe of the twinkling eyes, blossoms bright! The phantasms sketched by the memories of crush, embellishes my eyes with brimming string of tears! Truly, the dreams of crush garnish the silky nights with ecstasies and few traces of hopes!!

          Even if I used to get thirty minutes' leisure, I didn't waste on wandering inside the campus with other fellow beings; Instead, I used to go to the college library. So, it was easy for Jeethu to trace my hide out. It was there, where I had met her for the first time.

          'That's why you regard the library as the most sacred place. Isn't it?' Samar used to mark laughter observation on him.

          'Yea, it's a pious den and it was there, where I was enlightened by that divine angel'  

          That blessed day, it was raining, as the dew drops that sprinkle every small hours of morning. Flowers in the pot had blossomed fresh and sprayed the heavenly fragrance, as that of perfumes of Arabia. Butterflies were fluttering before the eyes, like little pixies come alive and the sparrows were chirping in the reading section. Both were there, who had come to read the same Book. 'Of Human Bondage' was one, which I took out of the shelf and she threw a desired sight on the book. I recognized that she had earlier in extracurricular classes, had sparked a positive comment on my write-up.

          'But, I'm reading Somerset Maugham for the first time' she said, with narrowing her eyes.

          'He's an apple in the eyes of all litterateurs. I've completed reading all his works and that 'The Moon and Sixpence' I've read four times' I replied, appraising myself for a moment and left the book for her to read. She thanked and took the book to women's section to read. I stood palely staring at each of her steps and started dreaming, 'How good it seems to see her interest in literature. And how nice it looks, she spoke respectably with me. Whether I'm in…'

          She turned at me and asked in low voice, 'Did you speak anything'

          'No. Did you hear anything?'

          'I felt you spoke to me… I'm Sorry'

          'That's alright' I said. 'How come she hear the words which I didn't even utter' I thought. Her love for literature attracted my innocent heart towards her. For, I too had worst craze for literature. Even hearing of my unspoken words too created warmth of affection in me. That fragrance of meeting her for the first time scented entire library, 'It's good to be with her' I thought and wanted to meet her once again, just to speak something.

          'I hope that even the cool chiming breezes started doubting me'

                                                                           *

          Ms. Mathias, today I am lodged in Sheraton Hotel in New Delhi. This is the city where I had graduated and had weaved numerous imagined stories with Alia. Presently, I own net worth estimated around fifteen to twenty hundred thousand Indian rupees. I have two and half acre of plot in our village- yea… the one on the banks of Arabian Sea; Apart from it, a well furnished deluxe flat in Mangalore and an air-conditioned 200-square-foot office in New Delhi. Above all, I have no family to look after- Henceforth, obviously all my earnings are deposited either in my bank account or gets invested in real estate. I am not boasting about my wealth before you, Ms. Mathias. Rather, I am trying to portray the flamboyancy of the odyssey I've came so far. Back in time, when I was a high school boy, being an elder offspring of my parents, I had to look after my mother. My mother, who was ill a lot, was dependent on me. I used to wash utensils, clothes, clean the home every Sunday, bring home fresh vegetables from markets etc. My only irresponsible sibling was meant only to eat, sleep and repeat. Even, as a college student, I used to bunk my lectures and used to accompany my mother, while consulting his doctor. My father, being a spendthrift, wasted both his time and money on his good for nothing friends. He never supported us financially. We even had to face financial crisis in home. Castaway from my father's household, my mother used to narrate all the past stories to me. My father supported me to study, only in order to flaunt our literacy status before his relatives.

          We lived in an old torn shack, beside a haunted graveyard. Since, we lived in old torn shack, our relatives abandoned us. Else, who desires to be fair to poor?

          Even during exams, I had to execute my responsibilities in home as well as study. When my grades decreased, my father utilizing the golden opportunity, used to deliver never ending sermons. I used to think is my father an eccentric genius Albert Einstein or A.P.J Abdul Kalam?

          I thought of liberty when I came here in New Delhi for the graduation. But, until we're financial sound, the word 'liberty' is a mere joke! Every day, my mother used to call me and narrate same tragic sagas and used to ruin my days. When my classmates used to hang out parties with girlfriends, I used to sit in my hostel room and used to listen the same stories from my mother again and again. I envy my colleagues' luck. They had bikes, branded shoes, deodorants and above all, Girlfriends!!

          The word 'Girlfriend' was such a blessing for us college guys that the guy with a girlfriend was honoured. I thought of making Alia my girlfriend. But, rotten Gufran was such a pain. Happiness fades out, as the vapour, within the blinks of the eye. But, the tragedies are immortal! They walk, hand in hand, with us in every step of life, teaching the lesson every now and then. During the period of trials and tribulations, bearing patience, not only help us to enjoy the better mental health; also, it helps us to maintain the reputation in every step in the long thorny journey of life…!

          I learnt this lesson only after everything was fixed. Oops! That's too late… But, it's better late than never- an elegant excuse!! Just kidding… Ms. Mathias.

                                                                           *

          When I came back to hostel, I ringed the call bell of our room. It kept buzzing. Evan, my roommate, didn't open the door. The door got opened, just at a soft push I gave. The yellow gloomy bulb was still palely burning. Windows were covered with curtains and ceiling was in motion. Waves of silky night had been unfurled in the room. Looking at the anesthetic atmosphere of the room, one would obviously sing, 'O sleep, come to me, slowly… slowly… and dwell in my eyes and delicately play those insolent paused dreams'

          Evan was lying on his bed intoxicated, with a bottle of liquor in his hand. 'Failure in his proposal made this fellow a drunkard, a drug addict and now, he's not even preparing for tomorrow's exam' I said myself 'Let him do, whatever he wish. I may not score more in the mathematics paper. But, it was biting off more than I could chew'

          In fact, I am the man who never accepts defeat, though I had failed in many attempts before. But Evan; an excellent example for courage loser, often looses faith in himself and undergoes inferiority complex. And now he went on wines and spirits. When the star fades away; seems to be idiotic, by the way. So is now Evan…

          'Remember Samar! It is of no use, if you just sit and wail that everyone is trying to pull you back. It'll, of course, nullify your hidden talents. You ought to have to reject their rejection and step ahead confidently' my grandfather's voice echoed in my ears. 'Yes. My grandpa is always right. I must strive hard. As usual, I must climb the ladder to first rank this semester too' I said and came back to my study, lit the candela and carried out my studies. Mellow puff of breeze, blew in and the flame on the chandelier started dancing and candle flame burned parity. I think I must narrate my story to the world!

          This ambition provoked to me to get a laptop. I kept aside all my books, squared my frozen shoulders and started typing...

                              FADE IN:

                              EXT. UNIVERSITY CAMPUS – DAY

                              BOY'S POV:

                                        - A dingy floor, a bottle of beer, a notebook of scribbles

                                        - A feeling of uneasiness...

          Two years later, my spec screenplay impressed Mr. Gupta to invest his enormous amount and I signed the contract for next two movies!!!

                                        I am on the cloud nine!

                                                                           *

          One fine day, Anjali Madam eloped with a Hollywood producer, leaving Mr. Gupta here alone, only after getting enormous amount from him. She bribed me a portion of amount to keep our illegitimate relations secret. Mr. Gupta, losing his wife, went insane and boozed throat full of pegs and slept soundly. I broke his locker and grabbed a bag full of cash and some jewelry of Anjali Madam; Also, I stole the bottle of shampoo, Anjali madam used to apply during the baths, as a part of her autograph. Whenever, I thought of her, I opened the bottle of shampoo and smelled its fragrance.

          Utilizing the amount I earned through my screenplays, through keeping the nude photographs of Anjali Madam and our relationship secretly, and the cash I stole from the locker, I kicked off my own start-up in New Delhi- A big Publication House. I love my start-up – this chandelier, and this silver laptop, and my 200 sq ft air conditioned office. All this I've achieved today- it may well turn out to be nothing some day. But, till then I keep masturbating looking at nude Anjali Madam.

                    Anyone may one day point a finger at me and say, Time's up, Gibran.

          Yet even an earthquake bring my office down to the ground - even if they declare me immoral and have all the drunkards dip their beaks into me – even if they make me walk the wooden stairs to the hangman's noose – I'll never say I made a mistake by exercising intercourse with my master's wife. She was soft, curvaceous and seductive- sexy enough to arouse the passions to have sex with her. I think it was her charm that made an introvert to dip his beak into her opening. My odyssey from a lonely introvert to one-sided obsessed lover to the playboy flirting the models to finally an ogler copulating his master's wife; Hope this is most unusual love you might not hear in India. I am a man of action and change. Henceforth, I decided right there and then to start dictating the letter to you!  

          Oh yeah, Ms. Mathias,

          Today, when I was out on car touring the town, I saw Alia and Gufran together going in to a maternity hospital. She's having two children and third one is in her womb. Gufran was seen supporting Alia to walk in the hospital. They're financially quite unsound. I felt pity at Alia's poor condition.

          I think I am ready to have children, Ms. Mathias.

                              Ha!

          Yours for ever,

                    Samar Gibran

                    Scroll and Quill Publications

                    New Delhi

                    boss@scroll&quillpublications.co.uk