NINE MONTHS OF SECRETS. 

There’s a cold war between us, a silent struggle on who will go first. Will we ever meet again? It’s been only nine months, but it seems like a millennium.

It seems as though it was just yesterday we met. When did we meet really? I can’t remember much. We communicate in a language of our own. All around is red darkness; and some days we hear the sound of a man singing. He also goes by the name “Papa”.

“What do you think will be out there?!” she asks me, all excited. She is few minutes younger than me. I also heard Papa say I am a boy. I wonder what this is like.

“A mysterious world...” I tell her with a booming voice, and I notice her eyes spark up. “Papa will be a nice guy, and the woman in whom we are now in is also going to be nice. I think her name is ‘Mama’.”

“Such a sweet name!” she says with a glee. “I wish I could go first...”

“I called dibs! You can’t just take over,” I giggle. Sometimes, I wonder what is out there. Will she and I ever meet again? Will the people out there call us names? Is it a scary world?

I listen to the news too, about the killings and fights. I don’t know what they mean... but one day I heard Papa cry. He was sad, and he whispered to Mama to keep us safe. We haven’t heard from him in a long time; but the last time he was here, he touched the wall and kissed it. We were happy too! I thought it was funny, about how we are separated by a wall.

“I bet there is going to be a candy town out there,” she says as she kicks on the wall. Mama slightly touches her belly; we can feel it too. She kicks again.

“Stop doing that! It might hurt Mama!” I yell at her. Our language is so fun.

“It’s so squishy!” she laughs. I wonder how Mama and Papa are going to put up with her. I sometimes wonder if she’ll be safe out there, which was also the reason why I told her I would go out first. I want to make sure everything is perfect for my princess. And that she’ll be loved by all. She is beautiful.

The walls are colliding... I hear Mama scream to. I wonder where Papa is; did he leave us? Is he fighting and killing? I need to learn those words as soon as I get out there. The walls are coming closer. She is getting more scared. I hug her tightly. “Be strong princess! I’ll make everything out there just perfect for you. You just stay here for a while, okay?”

She looks at me with watery eyes; I can tell she is scared of being alone in such a small room. “You will survive,” I tell her with a reassuring smile. “See you on the other side!” she says out loud as I leave.

The walls are getting more closer, and I feel like being strangled. I kick the walls as I go, so my princess wouldn't be hurt. I hear Mama scream loud and some guy say “push.” I hope that is Papa.

Everything around is white, and my eyes hurt. I feel as though I am going to burst; so I yell out loud. They all clap and smile, and I wonder why they are happy in my misery. They take me away from my princess, and I keep on screaming. “Take her to me!” I yell at them, but they just keep on laughing, pampering me with a towel. I kick one of them, and she just laughs. It is a weird world. I loved being in the red wall room.

I see my sister emerge, and she is crying too. Finally, my princess and I reunite. Everyone around us is happy, and they keep playing with us. We feel like film stars, and it is the best.

ONCE UPON A TIME

Once upon a time, there was a man. A man, who was dark as night and his heart white as day. So silent, he seemed to be in between present and reality; a vulnerable portal.
He had a lonely life, with zero scope of interaction. He owned a chat room, where he stayed online day in and day out, night in and night out. He stayed, hoping that his help would be needed by someone some day, and that day would be the one he stepped out of his comfort zone. Every night, he plugged in his earphone, sometimes with no music. He would read a good novel, or imagine his life in an alternate universe.
He craved for a ‘beep’.

His love was sacred, but the fear of rejection hooked him back to a reel, a reel of the mightiest fisherman.

One day, he heard a beep pass through his ears. He kept hearing them. His heart beat on, to the sound of the music and the rhythm of alert. Yet, they all seemed to be the same. He read the lines on the computer screen. “Help me! I’m locked in a garage by two men!”
The warrior in him woke up. In the midst of day’s mask, he put on his cloak of wisdom. His heart raced, blood pumped to his fingers. ‘Be fearless,’ he told himself. He saw the stars below him, and the earth above. In the portal, in this little life, he became the hero.

He ran, he walked and hitchhiked. Her phone signal was low, yet he was able to track him. A lonely woman in a garage haunted by the past of the men. All around he saw none. The streetlights shone brighter than the mightiest star, and he knew he would outshine them all. ‘Be fearless!’ he told himself.

Be fearless. He climbed down the stairs and reached a latch. He opened it, and saw two men; their face of the colour of rage and fear.

“I demand her release!” he said out loud, as his voice echoed around. The woman saw a speck of hope in him, and she called upon all the stars that was below her.

“Fight us! And she shall be free!” they challenged him. And the war began, with him feeling the punches and slaps, and his hands making the fastest of the moves. He jumped, kicked and punched. In the end, they ran. And his face smeared in blood, blood of victory.
He, a gentleman, took her home. On the way he saw fireworks, trucks and vendors. And he saw the world outside the four tiny walls. Outside the walls lied the real life, he realised. His iris reflected his new phase of life, and his heart beat on to the song of the wind. Slowly, but surely, he lived happily ever after. The end. 

UNTIL THEN

“Should you leave today?” Anwesha asked, looking at her drink.

“I have to,” Mallik replied. “You know I have to.”

“How much time have we got?” She asked, refusing to meet his eyes.

“Twenty minutes, till the taxi comes,” he answered, pushing the drink down his throat. “Before today, how long has it been since we have even said a hello, An?”

“Three years,” she smiled. “Three long years. But I don’t blame you. We had to part ways, didn’t we?”

“That question itself makes me feel guilty. But I had to go. I had a job waiting for me on the clock, that’s why I never said a goodbye. I had to go.”

“Like today,” she replied casually. “And I waited, for days and months for you to call. A single message could’ve saved me. I was willing to wait for you; but you didn’t.”

“Should we part ways like this today?” he asked, looking at her. The light of the bar lamp made her even more beautiful.

“Well, it’s better than the last time,” she said, finally meeting his gaze. Grey and cold, like a stone. “Let’s change the subject.”

“How is your husband?” he asked.

“Rich, and on tour all the time. But this time, I have a gift for him. A divorce notice.”

“You have to do what is right,” he stopped trying to find the right word.

“Remember the time we painted the walls of the stadium with our modern art? God we were wild,” she spoke up, changing the topic.

“I went to see it the other day. It’s still there,” he said, thinking of the good old days. “And the time when we bunked classes to go for a movie.”

“Each and every release. It was important to see the first show on the first day.”

“And the time when Jay and the team and we went that forest in the outskirts...” he stopped abruptly. He remember, how his friend called out for him, being forced down on the river by the forces of nature.

“Could anyone forget that?” 

Mallik noticed his taxi pull over.

“Call me when you get there,” Anwesha told him, ordering another drink.

“I will. Isn’t it too early for a beer?”

“It’s never too early. Goodbye Mallik.”

He waved his hands as he pulled away from her hands. The drink had started to taste different for her. A bit salty perhaps. Every time she saw his stone cold eyes, she got petrified. Jay had the same eyes too. Jay, the man who held her when Mallik left her under the mistletoe. Jay, her loving only brother.

“Madam, are you okay?” The bartender asked the woman in grey hair.

“I’m fine,” Anwesha replied. “Why do you ask?”

“You were talking to yourself minutes ago, and now...”

“Get back to your business,” she said with a bittersweet smile. 
Staring at the drink, she started to conversation with Mallik; the man she let go off her hands twenty eight years ago.

"DEVELOPED INDIA"

From steam engines to monorail; from parchments to E-mails, We have witnessed some of the finest inventions ever made by mankind. Civilisation has taken us to peaks of development. We live in a country where the flag holds three colours and a centre that holds the whole culture. Known for the birth of finest scientists like Aaryabhatta, India is also known for the efforts that has been put forward to make what is now by such personalities. 

“Developed India” is an unsung dream of all Indians. In a land where procrastination and imagination go hand in hand, people are united over few topics; one amongst them is ‘development.’ One of the milestones of development in India was when Green Revolution was achieved. We have come a long way now since then. The literacy rate has tremendously increased and most of the reputed positions in Multi National Companies are occupied by Indians. Turning the knob of the radio to get the right frequency in early morning are now just stories. The media and communication sector of India has jumped hoops, making ninety percent of it digitalised and controlled by satellites. The farmers are protected now more than ever by the government, and India has been rated as one of the most important tourist places. Famous for one of the seven wonders ‘Taj Mahal,’ our country is also rich with great infrastructure and tourist spots. 

India has also made herself self-sufficient with food grains by attaining Green Revolution. It has also been declared to stop the import of machinery to be used in space craft as a plan has been proposed to manufacture them in India itself. The Information Technology sector is one of the major pillars of Indian economy.  Being rich in energy resources and power plants, our country is capable of growing to greater heights. 

Another highlight of our country is the down to earth people that provide services as well as assistance while being in high positions. It is a well known story of how Smriti Irani, one of the most reputed ministers, helped native people living abroad when they were stuck in lack of transportation facilities. Many such personalities bring a glow to the country’s status, making every citizen to say that they belong to one such nation. 

A golden feather for our country’s development is that we have an airport that runs completely on solar panels in the heart of Kochi, Kerala. With a woman leading the project, a fully solar powered airport is one of a kind, saving a large scale of electricity by using natural resources. 
While there are many things to rave about, there are certain factors that are still hushed down but the stark truth. While our country is growing in infrastructure and information technology, basic utilities such as hygiene and good mean of transport is still a dream to be fulfilled. In a three minute long video showing different restrooms around the world, a video that went viral; India’s condition was one of the worst. Six million children die before they reach five in a year, and Eighty percent of the cause is unhygienic conditions. No proper restroom facilities are available in India though there were many built but they seem to be of least concern in the eyes of Government. 

While we have railway facilities and has celebrated its anniversaries and claiming we have one of the best in the world, the darker side of it is never taken much into consideration. The tracks are always littered, the restrooms reek almost all the time, no proper doors are seen and the seats are as old as our country’s independence. 

Another downside is the road conditions. In rural areas, there are not even proper roads, and in the city areas, pits and improper curves take life. Over one million people die per year due to road accidents, and some of the cases even go unreported. While other countries have underground drainage system to avoid leak and diseases, our country’s drainage system is still on the road, often leaking and spreading diseases. Plans were brought to fix the system, which has only messed up the system more. 

Though we have plenty of water supply, it is a lesser known fact that majority of it is hard water, which is not good for bathing and washing. In Karnataka, more than fifty percent of water is hard water, making people to depend upon mineral water for taking showers. Proper rain water catchment system is absent, and purification of water is not taken care of well. 

India also faces a large deal of ‘Power cuts’ as part of electricity conservation. The power lines are exposed, which can be damaged in a rain or in a lightning. Rather than providing an underground power line system which is far safer and reliable, we keep on craving for exposed power line system. In the case of electricity too, many of the villages are facing darkness in the midst of the night. Proper electricity transmission is failed here. 

Hunger and poverty still persists in some part of India, mainly villages and small towns. Mid-day meal programme put forward by the government used to be efficient until people started to loot healthy grains and replace it with spoilt ones. 

Though we pretend to see the unjust practices of the government, we all know that corruption is a major factor that is affecting our country’s growth. Instead of investing in infrastructure, education, basic needs and much more, a hefty amount goes into the pocket of ministers and government workers. Officers also bribe people for providing them with facilities.

To negate this takes effort, but that effort could bring us glory, by changing our country’s title “developing” to “developed.”Government can play a crucial role in all the forth mentioned cases by taking strict actions and providing necessary facilities. By spending time on focusing on what is not there than what is there is the important thing. Most of the people living in rural areas are not aware of what is good and what is not. Proper awareness can bring them to light and to the present. In the case of educational system, children should be introduced to the present technology, as it can provide information more than a person can. The basic needs of people should be provided first and foremost, and providing clean restrooms should be taken care of. Electric supply and water supply should be more prompt and should be upgraded to the latest technology. There is no corruption-free country, but we can make our country less corrupted than any other. 

Though there are milestones to be achieved and millions of miles to travel, we can surely say that the pace of development is getting closer to success. With the investment of young minds and their pure talent and by taking in the deserved ones, India can manage to make even the impossible possible. It is only a matter of time, effort and economy; and of all three India is well equipped. It is said to be better late than never. But it should also be taken to note that ‘late’ doesn’t seem to be in infinity.

DEAR DIARY
 

It is said that when one dies, their precious memories flashes just before their eyes. Then my death would take about an hour, for the memories longing in my head to come out in front of my cold body is more. Then one day, I saw them. It was not me that was dying.

I can see him on the ventilator, struggling between existence and after life. His face, full of scars and blood. I used to tell him all the time his face was flawless. He would punch me in my arm and say “I got your genes mommy!” Will he ever say that to me again? My precious child?

I always knew my genes were flawed. Rage, rage. Rage flew in my veins, not blood. My thoughts, built on rage, a thirst to fight against injustice. My son, have my flawed genes taken you to where you are now?

It was as though yesterday your little arm wrapped around my little finger, not letting go. I have cut my nails that day just for you. Until then, I used to bite them off. I didn’t want my unhygienic lifestyle to take away your precious life. I changed my routine for you; waking up at noon was just a memory from that day onward. Your cry for my love became my alarm; your little laughs became my fuel for the next day. Your giggles and your actions became my favourite sitcom. And now, you are lying here on that bed reeking of medicines. Is this a horror movie for me? Or are you just trying to scare me, my beloved?

Remember the time you introduced me to the coolest band ever? You danced to the beat while I stayed on the corner, figuring out the lyrics. Your favourite band. And for that birthday I got you their posters. I wanted to get you tickets for their live show, but beloved, my card was running low for I spent them to run our little family.

Our little happy outrageous family. Remember Daddy? The man with stubbed beard and three piece suit? He used to play with you every evening, running behind you with a little soccer ball, trying to introduce you to his field of work. You kicked the ball so high, it broke the kitchen window and knocked down our dinner. You and daddy laughed so hard that my anger flew away in that second. Now here we are, years later, holding hands as though we have just met, praying for your survival.

I remember your first swim. We were in that little resort down your favourite beach. We had seen the sunrise that day! How old were you? Seven? You wore that t-shirt with Mr.Bean’s teddy on it. You loved that t-shirt; you even pointed it whenever the show came on. You forced me down to the beach that day while Daddy went to his business meet. And when we came back, he was by the poolside, with a swimsuit ready for you. You jumped in with daddy, and he helped you swim. Daddy changed your hairstyle that day, remember? You wore your hair that way for years to school, until I cut it off. You were mad at me for a week, but it grew out to be even cooler. Your hair looks like how it was before I cut it off now. Beloved, wake up and see for yourself. I am not lying.

I remember the time you broke down when that girl you loved so much said ‘yes’ to some other guy. You locked yourself up, while I peeked in through the window. You didn’t see me that day, but I stayed by the window all night long, waiting for you to stop crying. You eventually fell asleep. I walked in silently, kissed your forehead and scuffled your hair. Your face was still wet, and I was mad, not at you, but at that girl, for leaving such a perfect boy. My son. You secretly went out at night to the places where you and she talked, and I followed you silently to make sure you were fine. You never knew that, did you? Daddy came along with me sometime, and he cried with me sometimes. We love you son. You are perfect to us. Wake up now.

Do I see a dip in your heart rate? Why am I hearing loud noises from the machine? Why is your face turning blue son?! Are you giving up on us? Remember the day when we all went to the park and threw the ball! Remember the time we drove away, just us two, when Daddy went for his work! Remember the day we flew to Paris and tasted wine though it was illegal! Wake up son!

Why did they beat you up?! My precious boy, what did you do? We know you are innocent, but do we worry for what you have done? Everyone says it isn’t your fault. It was theirs, the monsters that beat you up for trying to save a girl. A girl of your same age; a girl you never knew.

I knew my flawed genes were dangerous. I should have cut them off. Did I bring this wretched fate to you? Am I your murderer? Son, I am breaking down. Come, hold me.

I see doctors running in to see you. They are looking at their watch and mouthing words to each other. One nurse is holding your hand. Is everything okay son? Son, are you listening to my thoughts?

I see the doctor coming out now. They are saying they have done everything, but they couldn’t succeed. I see the nurse that held your hand now look at me with pity. Should I slap her? My outrageous genes, stop eating me up! My son is gone. And he has taken a part of me with him. And now I know that he is listening to my thoughts. Son, I love you. Son, Goodnight and God bless. 

Today is a normal day like any other, but exactly one year ago, I summoned up the courage to click 'create blog,' and name it 'Fearless Sinister.' It's been a year since we have embarked upon such a journey, a journey that has been both glorious and treacherous. Each moment has been precious, and to add more, today is the day F.S. has hit 2015 page views. Thanks to all the art lovers who helped this happen and thanks to the team behind F.S, especially Sanjana Sarma (Editor), Achyuth C. Sekhar, Ganesh V.P, A.G. Parvathy (Well-Wishers) and many others whose effort has been with us throughout. We expect this love and support for the coming years too, for this blog is meant to live on forever as it is the main purpose. We hope you have enjoyed all the written works.
Love,
F.S. 

As part of one year anniversary, here is a poem, dedicated to all of you. 

ON THE ROCKS.

You and me, two perfect strangers

Separated by land and sea. 

Until the night dawned upon us

And the stars stared with a yell.

A crowded bar, two empty seats

We sat across, raising our hands

Two whiskey on the rocks with a twist 

And the conversation began.

We danced around the streets 

Under the signal lights and stars

Hopping down on water

With memories embracing us.

You and me we were meant to be

Not perfect strangers, but a duo

Two whiskey on the rocks with a twist

And the strangeness disappeared. 

ON AIR. 

Packing up the bags, her eyes constantly glanced at the clock, making sure she wasn't late. The traffic was like the politics. Unstable, unpredictable and always lagging. Her phone charge showed her a 100%, making a smile wrap around her lips.
"Have you taken your passport and ticket," her mother asked for the hundredth time.
"Yes ma, I've got them," she said as she locked the bag.
"You sure it is your passport?"
Slowly losing her temper, she pulled out her hand bag and took out a small black book. "See," Sunita Nair Dhwani. I think I am Dhwani. What do you think ma?" 
"That's you," her mother laughed. "I don't want you to get lost or confused when you are in that airport."
"Ma!" She cried out. "I am 23. Not 3. And this is not my first time really, so quit bothering me." Her eyes darted to the clock again. "Few more minutes left."
"Why don't you leave now?" Sunita asked. "You dont want to get stuck in the traffic."
"I wont get stuck in the traffic. I'll go in few minutes."
"Sweetheart, you cant trust anything here. The road is madness. So why not leave now rather than be a victim?"
"If you want me to leave, fine, I'll go," she said, rolling her suitcase to the verandah.
"It's not that..." Sunita began. 
"It is definitley what it is. You want me out of your hair!" Dhwani yelled out. Without saying a goodbye, she walked to the taxi stand.

"It's a good thing you are early madam," the driver said. "There will be a parade now soon by the NCC kids. You would have missed your flight."
"But there was nothing in the newspaper," she replied. "Where is the fun in letting everything know," he answered back with a wink. 

"This is flight B737-900ER and we are ready to take off," the captain announced. Enjoying the view outside the window, she rested her head on the headrest, listening to old malayalam songs her mother suggested before. She took out her phone and messaged her mother that she would soon be in air. 
As the flight took off, she felt her body heavy for a while. 'Laws of motion,' she told herself with a giggle. The city appeared smaller to her and soon, the great Travancore was just a small dot. 
"Angels come from the clouds," her mother had told her when she was seven. like any innocent child, she believed her. Every night, she would look up at the grey clouds in the black sky with white spots. Shades of black, her father would tell her. Now, being on air for not the first or the fifth time, she still looked out the window, looking for the angels. 
"Veg or non-veg mam?" The air hostess broke her moment with her past.
"Non-veg," she replied as she pulled down the tray. 
The packet had raw rice and chicken that looked funny. She missed her ma's home made pulav and butter chicken. In that moment, she fell homesick. Her eyes fell on a mother feeding her child, and then she realised how hard it was for her mother to raise her, especially with all the travelling. If only I could call her... she wondered.

"Have a nice day," the hostess told her as she stepped out of the plane. Her sim wouldn't work here, she knew for sure. Hell, it didnt work properly even in her country. Checking out with he baggage, she ran for the telephone booth. 
"Hello?" Her mother's eager voice roared in the speaker. 
"I love you ma," Dhwani said with a smile. And then, the pennies kept on falling into the phonebox.