Tup ,tup, tup,the water comes down. Snoring. Some people are snoring in their deep sleeps. Flies move around the sleeping child concentrating around his ears, they sing and dance and sing more. The small thin boney hands would move and come closer to the ears to the dismay of the flies.one among the many simply move ahead to the other celebrities singing in the ears of the rest of the family. The old women in the worn out clothes is snoring the loudest. She is looking horrible, our fly looks at her and horrified by the look turns away .everybody is sleeping here. There is a little boy, not too little just about ten years old. He is sitting in a corner and on the floor. His eyes are sleepless and dangerous. He is going to be very dangerous for others or himself. He has dreams in his eyes. Where the rest of the house is drowned in the silence of sleep this young boy is immersed in the noise of his dreams. His face is set with emotions just like the time when he is studying the parts of a car engine in his workshop. He is every time solving some one or the other problems in his mind. The emotions are so much set on his faces that now he looks odd without them, well never mind he is rarely without them. Earlier he used to sleep without them. While sleeping he would look so serene and peaceful that one is bound to remember his own innocent childhood and its blessings. Now it’s all the same, his expressions tell a reader two things; one he is preoccupied and the other he is solving some trouble or finding some solution. Wonder what he is thinking now? He is thinking about the car engine or what? A group of flies are also surrounding him; they stop at various parts of his body. He makes no effort to wave them off. They have set their stage closer to his eyes and he is their most loyal and devoted fan as he listens patiently. His ears are alert and it seems he is actively listening to the music of flies, trying to understand what they say and later on find some hidden meaning, if there exist any. He doesn’t tire out but the musician does. The fly bored with him apparently move out. The deafening tup, tup,tup from the tap is followed by a monotonous sound of water coming out of the tap. Water is following its route on earth and its sound has made another route in the air. The fly is out of the confinements of the building to witness the change of black into white. The little creature has set herself on the cold oily varnished fence of the tallest building in the vicinity. The poor fly aimed to see the definite moment when night would hand over all the glories of the moon to the rising sun. a little later we see that the fly is hopelessly disappointed, moving here and there, if even from the top of the tallest building in the vicinity the poor creature could not see the shift of night into the day. All she saw was that darkness got dimmer and dimmer and light becomes dominant minute by minute, the brightening sky becomes brighter and emerges a red ball from the east to leave the struggling bee bereft. Our fly is disappointed and angry and a bit reflective, she could not figure out what was wrong. These humans talk about being specific and definite in all what they do or talk where nature itself is so ambiguous. How can she improve it, she has time and can find the demarcation between day and night, but how? Our fly is self critical; she asks herself that how come she never noticed this before, after all this is not his first day on earth, why was he so inattentive to his surroundings and how can he improve. After a great deal of self criticism and contemplation, the fly is bored and turns to go back to her diehard fan; the little dangerous boy. The fly comes down and enters a broken window, this time not welcomed by the tup tup from some tap. Everybody is awake and moving here and there listlessly. A girl is scolded and she finally gets up to move towards the kitchen. She moves a tap and there is no water only a drop that comes down to earth and the home echoes with the sound of a tup. The girl frowns and comes back to her place on the chair in front of a table where lots of pages are placed scribbled with the unimaginable writings of future or maybe past. The echo of tup tup resonates in the air and mocks the dry tap. The listless faces of the family their frowns their hopeless eyes raise questions that our poor fly cannot turn into words for us. Who would answer these questions, they themselves, the civilized modern society or their omnipotent god. In any case our fly is not responsible and not even interested. So he turns away on the lookout for the dangerous boy. The fly eyes him in the other room, runs to him, start telling him his tale and pastime. The boy seems to be completely aware of his surroundings and is easily annoyed. To end his annoyance, he chase the fly out the same broken window from where she entered. The angry and insulted fly is decided there and then to leave the home forever and find himself a new home, he thinks world is big place and he has a great voice someone on this mighty and vast earth would be able to recognize and admire his talent. Shooting into the air like a bullet she flies high. After a while the fly is on road. He lands royally on the bonnet of a new grand car, he tries to adjust but the car is too fast and strong gusts of winds can easily uproot him anytime. So the fly would enter the car uninvited. It is a comfortable luxurious place. The fly is too happy and the optimism burst out in words like”; world is a big beautiful and place”. As he coughs in the smoke of a cigar he feels the presence of the big man who holds the cigar. He is a handsome and a delicate man, much better than the previous fans of the fly. Impressed by the look he starts chattering unconsciously, welcoming his own self, and his own formal introductions etc. The fly went on unnoticed for a while, feeling ignored he rushes to notice his ear. The man forced to notice him, drives the fly out in seconds in his irritations. Our fly shocked form such unworthy treatment from his congenial friend runs for his life barely escaping death at the hands of large material weapons on roads. He is left with injured, broken hearted in the middle of the road, in front of rushing speedy vehicles and merciless humans. Later at midnight the fly stands on the road to contemplate his statement and faith, “the world is a big and beautiful place.”
What girls like? What men like? Girls like bad boys and boys like bad girls. Both the sexes go after the worst in the opposite sex. Then we have a list of complaints and stories of deep grief coming from these lovers. If only bad people are loved then where does the good go? Do they live without love? No. actually they are the ones who love the bad people. In every relationship there are one bad and one good, one side would stay constant and love from their heart while the other one has the responsibility to cheat and deceive.
If one person in every relationship is constant then why do not the two constant people from different relationships start a new relationship? Would life be better then? Or one of the good would turn bad? Well the real topic of the blog is the attraction of the good for bad. A lot many people out there may not agree with me about the liking of good people for bad but I have got enough evidence to convince me. The hero in every movie is a bad man with a good heart. Mostly heroines are naughty and cheat who have the capability of being exceptionally good and decent when once married or else required in the plot. Besides fiction and movies in real life there is always one person is miserable and the other one makes him/her miserable.
It is not a very small room although nothing much can be seen around. It’s because of darkness. A few days back there was a great party given by Mr. Anderson in the memory of the happy moments spent in this palatial house. All the furniture was pushed aside five couples were easily dancing to the beat and moving all around the room. The echo of the music, the loud chatter of the young people, the beating hearts and the loud noise of heavy breathing is still lingering in the air of this morbid room. Their sweet voice and loud laughter and rocky music were oozing out from the windows into the peaceful night. In the farther street somebody stops to observe the muffled noises from here that are creeping like a cat into the silent peaceful night and leave an eternal trace in the world of darkness and silence. This man considers it to be a blasphemy to the reverent night. The night seems to be so holy at this point of time that even his footsteps are sacrilegious to it. Wonder how long he would stand contemplating the act of violation.
There, inside the room it’s all dark; only slight hints and guess that something is placed here and there. The smell of cigar s noticeable in the room; but would not be much irritating any outsider. The smoker has secured a place in the corner of the room. He can see the room in all its clarity as he well knows all the furniture in the room. The smoke appears from the soft lips and diffuses into the open air. There is no air in the room but the smoker sees the fumes dancing and the smoker in the room see the dancing couples in the smoke. He is shocked for a moment and then for his amusement he goes on to draw comparisons between the smoky couples and the real ones who came to his party. He sees the smoky couples are in luck as they appear quickly and then as quickly they disappear. The diffusion of the smoke sets the couple free for forever and forgotten from this universe of misery and cruelty lest they remain in the memory of the smoker. But how far does the smoker would live or retain his memory is also a question. The smoker is reminded of the fact that the real couples would also return to dust sooner than later and would be forgotten forever. The smoker gives weight to time. He considers that perhaps the time available to the smoky couples is less and also to their advantage. He is again shaken by a statement heard sometime in his childhood that life is more a flicker in the air. For himself, he would rather be a smoky man then a real one, for his life is already too long and he needs a smaller one
Earlier young girls used to grow up dreaming about some prince charming. All the young girls had nothing to do but to wait for the most glamorous man to appear b their side to take their hand. It was all a bit of fascination of girls. A true prince charming is the richest man in the world who looks like a cool hunk. That man would look at the girl and fall at her feet, so like this would start or end a beautiful story. I was thinking all about it while watching Cinderella. This idea reminded me of a text message I received a few months ago.
The text said that while the girl was busy dreaming about her prince charming, she saw the Caspian of Narnia and now she dreams about a Caspian, later the next movie is harry potter and the girl is interested in a wizard and finally there is twilight, the girl watches the movies and she is on the lookout for a vampire. As the world progresses, the prince charming is replaced by a sunlit vampire. Nowadays the girls do not care to wait for a tall handsome man who would come on a horse to take her into a world full of life and never ending happiness. The idea is far from reality. Today girls have as many desires as stars in the sky. Fulfilling those desires force women to struggle and this accounts for the increasing number of women going for higher education.
While I was busy thinking about the changing attitudes of girls another thing also crossed my mind. The attitudes of men are also changing. They are also not much interested in being the prince charming. The passions are for singing or heavy bikes, earning money etc but no one wants to be that prince charming that would create the happy world for her princess. Men want their wives to be self sufficient who could cooperate with them in the mutual family issues. No sane man dream to give any women as much care and support as the prince charming does. Men dream about creating a beautiful world for themselves; not for some women they would fall in love at first sight.
I am not saying that there is little attraction between men and women now. The point is that today the burden of home keeping is to be shared by both. No man is ready to would create a happy castle for young dreaming beautiful lady or simply he is not just capable of pertaining to the present world economic crises. S o if young ladies are dreaming somewhere about prince charming; please wake up. The sorry thing is that those who are not dreaming about prince charming they are dreaming about vampires, who are also next to impossible.
I never have been a book-worm, could not read more than a few pages with consideration. The living and the moving world around me used to fascinate me and I was jinxed by it. I like to look at the rising sun and the starry night, blooming flowers or the falling rain, these are simulations that really stir me. They make me happy and make me sad. I was never the one who could sit for hours and read books and create images in my mind rather than looking at them through my eyes. The visual world is very fascinating for me. This not all I was left to be amazed by my own self.
As I grew up, I had to read and learn my course books. This diverted me towards books. In my bachelors I ended up in taking the English literature as my elective. I had to dissolve in Shakespeare and Wordsworth, Keats and browning contributed to my own exposure to my other half. I started enjoying reading. To this added the Stephanie Mayer’s twilight saga and J.K Rowling’s harry potter. I was going everywhere with a book in my hand from home to school, from kitchen to lounge, from class to play ground I was carrying the book. After this my next plunge was into the classical literature. I felt terribly sorry for the poor mayor of the Caster Bridge, lonely Eustacia, and like this from Thomas hardy I start and move on from one writer to the other. Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina became my favorites and Adam Bede of George Eliot and the journey continues.
Here while I was galloping from one book to the other. I felt a strange thing. One day I saw that as I opened my book, a little fairy like the beautiful tinker bell. It came out of the book in the silver light and dark blue dress one of the finest silk I have never seen before. The beautiful fairy asked me to join her; I had no idea where are we going but I obliged her. She created a window in the wall with her magical wand. Through this window I along with her passed on to the other world, here I could see the beautiful Anna crying and sobbing in her room, I saw the goddess like Eustacia rambling in the moonlight, the muscular Adam in his shop making wooden furniture for her little Hetty, the cruel Lestat dancing in the ballrooms with her bloody teeth concealed in her demonic smiles, the proud Darcy proposing prejudiced Elizabeth, and so much more and more. The kind fairy created it all for me. When some would call me from the real the elegant fairy would send me back to the real world and I would close the book but keep the finger in the book. When I was eight, I could never believe that I would be able to mesmerize in any books so deeply. This aspect of mine was oblivious to me. It is a happy revelation or self exposure that came with time.
In my childhood I was very much intrigued by the animals. I could never understand them to be from some other species. I always wondered why they are not like us. Well with the passage of time I was overloaded by schools and humans around me too much that I entirely or partially forget about animals but as I am growing up the love for animals is again blazing up inside me. It started from cats. Lots of cats in my university have rekindled the love I once felt for them; from cats to lions and cheetahs. One of my passions is about horses. Reading black beauty; it’s a nice read that narrates the life of a typical horse. But there is no book written on the beauty of a horse, any book that would simple adore the creature. I came across no book that could translate the experience of a horse ride. When the galloping horse takes a jump and all you can see is the sky. Sky seems to be far nearer and believe in one self is escalating. Whenever on a horse, I know that I can do everything I aim for and I am a special person with the special gift. I hold the magic to change the world for the better. I am the one and the only one. I fall in love with myself and the world around me. All the sorrows pass away and I become the happiest of all living or ever lived.
I love horses more than cars and bikes. It’s true that with the increasing trend of bikes and cars, the new generation is more concerned with material things and the passion for horse riding is lowering. Still there are lots of horse lovers alive. The idea of riding on a horse is magical; you feel the blood flowing through your veins and also in the veins of the horse, it makes life more real and exhibits the congruence of humans with the world around them. This can never be felt while sitting in the steel or metal car/bike body. The materials make you feel alien form the world whereas a living horse under you is a source of consolation and satisfaction.
Well I think I should end here, because I can write lots about experiences with my horse but the post can be stretched more. I may write again about horses so if you are a horse lover keep on checking.