Sunday, 17 November 2013


It wouldn’t be a story if I would be in it, it would be forged reality. Well, so let me tell you a story of a long lost tale, about a boy who watched the stars fall through the sky and turn into day. Every night he stayed up looking at the stars, expecting something to happen, expecting someone to appear. His eyes were fixed upon the sky; he blinked his dark brown eyes, ever so rarely, the flutter of his eyelids hardly ever made a sound to disrupt the peace of the night. The boy’s little hands were upon his two rosy cheeks, as he sat with his legs uptight and on his haunches. He had a big forehead that protruded outwards towards the sky and he always sat through the night, bare bodied, as he believed it best synced with the natural environment. So, every night, all alone, the little boy sat on the roof of his house, unattended, unknown to the entire world sleeping below.
What to expect he didn’t know. But he had an inkling that someone would show up and take him away into the stars where he could meet his dead mom and pop. The sense of communion with his dead parents forced the little child to sit through the night, through sweltering summers and shivering nights, the little boy watched the sky, uninhibited, uncared. Ah love!
So was it the love for his parents that drew the child to such extremities or was it the taste for the unknown that enticed the child to give up on sleep? The little boy had no knowledge of such analysis of his little deeds. He just knew that he had to be up on the roof-top every night, after putting his grand-parents to bed. Each night, he tip-toed up the stairs and took off his shirt and pants, and voila, he was ready for his nightly endeavour.
One winter night, as he was sitting past midnight, he heard something roar at the back of his head. He turned his head to look but couldn’t see anything or anyone through the dark pitch-black night. He thought he was imagining but then it happened again and this time, the sound seemed much closer! Again, the little boy turned his head, but couldn’t see anything that could disrupt his nightly job. However, he was getting impatient and the sound did affect his concentration so he harked out,
“Is anybody out there?”
None appeared, and he strained his dark brown eyes to see as far as he could through the foggy night, but nothing. Now, as the boy turned to resume his nightly mission and looked up at the sky, he was immediately shocked to find that not a single star was there to be found upon the vastness of the sky. Suddenly, all the stars had disappeared and vanished from the sky. The little boy stood there scratching his head, his little legs trembling in the shivering winter, but he couldn’t fathom what had happened within a jiffy of a moment. But right at that moment, a small little fire-fly came frolicking through the night and landed upon the right hand of the little boy. The little boy stood with his gaping wide opened mouth, trying to understand what had just happened when that little fire-fly gave a loud roar and belching sound. The boy shrieked in terror and jerked his hand, trying to toss the fire-fly away but immediately the fire-fly shrieked in a loud shrill voice and said,
“Hola, Amigo! What are you trying to do? I come in peace my friend, I have been sent here by your parents with a message.”
The boy disbelieved everything that was happening around him and he shut his eyes tight, repeating in his mind. It’s just a dream. I’m just dreaming.
The little fire-fly went on, ignoring the boy’s reactions.
“My friend, your parents are looking down upon you every night and they had been trying to communicate and contact you ever since they died in that freak accident when they were bringing you home from the hospital, after you were born. But you know they stay far-far away and it is very difficult for anyone to contact Earth, from Heaven.”
The boy somehow gathered courage to open one eye and peeped at the fire-fly. He saw a glowing little fire-fly, too small to be seen with all the light that it emanated from its back. But if looked closely, it could be seen that the fire-fly was wearing an apron and had spectacles with a stout moustache covering most of its face. Its wings were brightly rainbow coloured and were spread out from its red body. The little fire-fly had six tiny legs that had been gripping tightly onto the skin of the boy’s hand and had a very big bottom that was radiating bright sunshine. With its mouth wide open and its antennae swaying, the boy could see that the little fire-fly was speaking to him, as obviously there was no one else out in the dark lonesome winter night.
The little fire-fly swung its head and told the boy that his parents were always looking after the boy from Heaven and that they were very much worried, ever since the boy had started sitting out at night on the roof, trying to contact them. That is the reason why they told one of the stars to come down upon Earth and convince the boy to sleep at night with his grand-parents and go to school in the morning, instead of sleeping throughout the day.
The boy curiously said,
“What do you mean my parents sent a star to me? Where are all the stars? Who are you?”
With utter horror in its eyes and extended swaying of its head, the fire-fly exclaimed,
“I am the star! Oh! Can’t you see? I’m sorry, I didn’t introduce myself. My name is Bingo and I’m the head chef and chief communications manager of Heaven. I am the only one who heads two departments at Heaven and I’m the biggest star in the entire sky. In fact, I’m The Superstar!”
“What do you mean you are a star? You are a tiny little fire-fly. How can you be a star?”
The boy was suddenly feeling less threatened. In fact, he was amused by the fire-fly’s tall claims of being a star.
“But I am the star,” the fire-fly did a twirling motion with its feet and did a round-about to showcase its glowing bottom.
“I am Heaven’s most revered and admired star and everyone, from any part of the world can see me glowing in the north sky whenever they look upwards. In fact, I prance about and dance in my northern kitchen while I cook for all the people in Heaven and everyone just loves the way I cook. In fact, they lick their fingers clean after eating my food because I put in a secret ingredient into the food that I cook.”
Suddenly, the fire-fly flew from the right hand of the boy and landed on the little boy’s left ear lobe. With another loud belch, the fire-fly spoke.
“I can tell you the secret in your ears but cross your heart that you will never tell anyone.”
The boy involuntarily crossed his heart with his hands and swore in the name of God that he would never divulge any secret.
“Oh! Why do you take our Boss’s name in vain? He doesn’t know that I’m here. You see, your parents are very nice people and on their request I had to secretly come down upon Earth to meet you,” the little fire-fly spoke in a strained voice, expressing his anguish and fear.
“Do you see any stars in the sky? No. Right! Guess why? Obviously, all of them are out cooking food as their star chef is down on Earth. I tell you my friend, I’m the biggest star and no matter how hard everyone else tries, they can never cook like me. Obviously, because they do not know or have my secret ingredient.”
The little boy stood flabbergasted by everything that he had just heard. It seemed like a far off dream that was playing with his mind and testing his patience. Any moment now, he would open his eyes and the reality would strike him bitterly.
But the firefly stood its ground, balancing itself precariously upon the slippery lobe of the child.
The little boy, with his little thoughts that had braved a thousand lonesome nights, glared mysteriously at the fire-fly and in his mind, he now believed. He believed that there must be someone out there, maybe his parents, but someone definitely was looking down upon him at this instant and watching him confront this poor fire-fly, who had actually been sent down to help him come to terms with the loss of his parents.
Now, suddenly, realizing that he was stark naked in front of a stranger, be how minuscule that stranger’s vision might be, he quickly ran to the attic and wore his clothes. However, all throughout this time, the fire-fly stood its ground upon his feathery earlobe and with a grin on its face it looked at everything unfolding, rather folding in front of it.
To be continued....

Saturday, 16 November 2013

The Disappearing of Uninspired Life!

You can always be on the horizon but never reach the zenith
Worlds falling apart to a never ending saga of love and gore
Your hands outstretched to touch the tip of inspiration
But you fail, you fail!
Repeatedly, constantly, your mind buzzes with thoughts
You visualize dreams in your padded room but they never reach a form
Your asking for pain is not another source of emotion for your disgruntled life
You who lie there, quiet, enclosed, wrapped in your false existence
Wake up, get up, see the positrons flying around you
How can you like Eliot? How can you like Woolf?
They who wrote once are dead, their heaps of pity lay behind
Mind stop this ordeal, you are too young to delve so deeply
Death doesn’t deter, moments flash, zoom, zap, end!

Make the most of what you have, get up, hold the tip, Begin!