Inexpensive innocence

there's a little patch of slum dwelling near my apartments and the other day while I was walking back from some work in that area, i just happened to observe some of the kids over their, playing. It was that vision that makes this poem.

There, right by the side of the busy street,

Lies a tiny patch of Peter Pan's Neverland.

Where throes of laughter echo unburdened,

From the happiest shining faces I've ever seen.

They're tiptoeing on broken bus benches,

They're jumping on each other and bumbling.

There is constant chatter in shrill voices,

With complete ignorance of the shabby environs.

There is one more, pouring sand into a bottle,

Only to throw it out and start all over again.

How does he find joy in exercises of futility?

While we despair in a life full of excesses.

More kids running up and down a dirt mound,

Probably the only peak some of them will scale.

'Ooooo!' one shouts as he comes tumbling down,

Taking a fall with a bigger smile than we could give.

What do they know of money and the lack of it?

It's their own small world insulated from sorrow.

I look at us people and feel we're missing a beat,

When I see these examples of inexpensive innocence.

Shoebite

just this crazy idea i had. slightly inspired from a stephen king short story. but that one had nothing to do with shoes :P..

It was the color that first caught Johnny's eye. It was a bright yellow, with a dash of orange. You just couldn't miss it. And something about it exuded a raw, muscular feel. He felt it would grip the surface well, and really help him run faster. He had his qualifiers in two weeks, and his last pair had worn out. He looked on it for a brand mark, but there was none. That was strange. But his gut told him he really had to get these shoes. It was a good idea to get these shoes. He entered the store where it was on display, only hoping that that they wouldn't cost more than the little money he could spare for it.

He went up to the shopkeeper and had to wait for a few minutes as a couple of customers made their purchase. Then Johnny went up to him and asked.

'Say, how much for the pair of runnin' shoes that're put outside on display?'

'What those? Well, they bin here a long time, no one's ever showed any interest in 'em. Do you wanna have a look?'

'Yes please.'

The man slowly made his way to the display counter. He was a man of seventy, with a generous girth and tufts of snowy white hair on his head, below which was a wrinkled, kindly face. He came back with them, and put the pair in Johnny's hands. 'You can try 'em on if you'd like.'

Johnny slipped one on and the fit was snug as though the shoe was made especially for him. He slipped on the second and did I fast jog on the spot to test how they felt. The old man looked at him. At the lean and chiseled features of his body, his agile stance and his dancing eyes.

'You a runner son?'

'Oh yeah, I've been tryin' out for nationals for the past three years, but always narrowly missed out. This time I've a feeling I'm gonna make it. I have to, to repay all the loans I've taken in my pursuit. I see there's no brand name on this. What sorta guarantee can you give me on this?'

'No guarantee. What you buy is what you get.'

'Okay. I'm gonna trust my gut on this one. How much?'

'Thirty dollars. Cos I've never seen a finer made pair of shoes in my entire life.'

'Oh god. I don't have so much. I've only twenty. Please sir, please give it to me for twenty.'

The man seemed to look at him for a minute. 'Oh all right. They weren't going anyways. If I can do my bit to help a young man, I sure will. Go on, take 'em!'

Johnny thanked him and came out of the shop a happy man. He took out motorcycle parked by the sidewalk and started on his way home. He had a good feeling about these shoes.

On the way home, he found a man standing by a stationary car, waving his arms for help as he walked around in frustration. Johnny slowed down and stopped next to him.

'Can I help you sir?'

'Oh it would be a blessing if you could. You see my car's just not starting, do you know what the problem could be? I've tried everything!'

'Well I dunno much sir, but I could take a look under the hood for you, I can.'

'That would be of great help!' Johnny parked his bike in front of the car and got off to check under the hood of the car. As he passed the other man, he felt a sharp object pressed in the low of his back.

'Alright buster, no sound. Just walk off the road into the bushes, and don't try anything stupid.'

He silently agreed and after walking a few meters inward, the man spun Johnny around and asked him to give all his valuables and cash. When Johnny said he actually had nothing, the man lost his cool.

'Now you listen man! I'm gonna take your bike and get away on it, cos that's not even my car all right? Now if you don't want me to take your life along with that, do as I say!'

'But I have nothing except for these shoes I bought. Honest!'

The man looked at him angrily as he saw that Johnny wasn't lying. Then he yanked the shoe cover out of his hands and peeped inside.

'Ooh fancy. Guess I won't mind wearing those. He quickly kicked off his own shoes and wore the yellow ones. 'Don't let me see you around again' he said as he started trotting away. Johnny felt a sinking feeling inside him and he felt hot tears well up in his throat. He could have easily chased down the man, but what was the point? He was armed.

But then suddenly, just a few meters in front of him, amidst the bushes he heard a scream of surprised pain. Someone was yelling in pure agony. Johnny sprinted to the source of the sound, and saw that it was the same man, writhing on the ground in some pain. Then his eyes fell upon his feet and his jaw dropped.

His feet were bleeding profusely and his toes were missing, as if they'd been bitten off. All that remained of them were two weird looking stumps for feet. There was blood everywhere, and the man now seemed to go into shock, turning alarmingly white and soon fainting into silence. Johnny looked to see what had caused all this, when his eyes fell upon the yellow shoes. They were perched innocently on a nearby rock, and would have been beyond suspicion if not for the blotches of red all over its toe end.

He walked up to it cautiously and picked it up, expecting them to bite again. Something told him without a doubt that they had been the cause for what had transpired. But nothing happened.

He put them back in his bag, took another glance of the faint body, and decided not to get involved in this. They wouldn't believe his story anyway. He went to his bike and rode away.

Once home, he washed them carefully and sat and stared at them. That was when he realized, if it wasn't for those shoes, the man would probably have killed him out of frustration for not having anything on him. Or he would have been left stranded there. The shoes had saved his life. He felt that they were their to protect him, and wouldn't do anything to him.

So the next morning, he wore them to practice. And it went great.

Two weeks later, he topped his heat qualifiers, and made it to nationals.

A month later, he won gold at the nationals and represented his country at the Olympics.

Six months later, he won gold at the summer Olympics, setting a new event record.

All the while he never showed too much surprise or disbelief. For since the very first time he had seen those shoes, he knew it was a good idea to get them.

The beach

I stand on the porch, knotted up,

Hardened by the day's troubles.

As I stand looking at the beach,

In the early velvety sunset.

Unwittingly, into it I am drawn,

As the waves sweep repeatedly.

The smooth sandy seacoast,

With its characteristic sound.

For them there is no day,

And the night is just the same.

Back and forth, the cycle goes,

A constant in this changing world.

The salty wind comes to hug me,

Telling me to give in to the calm.

I walk up till the waves kiss my feet,

And my hardy exterior crumbles.

Is that the last boat coming in I see?

A lone dot on a vast landscape.

Somebody out there is finding his calm,

In the utter silence of solitude.

The sound that the waves make,

How can I describe their quality?

Reminds my how mom put to me sleep,

With a warm hand and a silent lullaby.

The sky is an adept artwork,

For it changes shades as the eye sees.

Darker and deeper it gets with time,

Until the stars come out to play.

The caw of the evening bird,

Pierces the silent symphony.

Moved I stand, in nature's awe,

Feeling one with the harmony.

Thus I walk back inside,

And go to bed a happier man.

As my head lays on my pillow,

It's nature that comes to say goodnight.

Hello?- part 3

the final part. Not gonna make it too long. At the end of the story i'll tell you the topic i got. So you guys can figure out where I changed the plot a bit. More like sequence of events.

It was a few minutes before Vineet made any move from the couch he had slumped on. Other messages played on his phone, people wishing him a happy birthday and whatnot. But he just sat there, shaking a little in fear. He didn't know what to do. But after a few moments he decided he could only help himself by calming down. So he coaxed himself into clear thought. Was there anything he could do to avoid this? Was it possible that the man was right outside his house, waiting to nab him if he tried to escape? Was there any lead to pursue? Anything he could do? That's when Vineet decided to call the number back. Maybe he could talk to the man, convince him, or intimidate him with the considerable clout Vineet had. Being the editor-in-chief of a leading city magazine, he had a few contacts.

He dialed the number and waited with bated breath. On the third ring, it was picked up.

'Hello?' The voice asked courteously.

'Hello? Who's this?' Vineet asked.

'Whom do you want sir? This is a PCO.'

'Oh okay. Where is this situated?'

'Near the Masjid flyover sir. Have you seen the new Tectronix mobile showroom? Its right next to it, on the right hand side. Its a little provision store. Why sir?'

'Someone called me from this number, I wanted to know who it was. Do you keep any sort of record or anything that can help me know who it was?'

'No sir, too man people use the phone everyday. But the mobile store has a camera on its door which records whoever enters the store. This phone comes in its sweep. I know because I had gone in once and happened to notice my own..'

'Alright alright, I'll come there soon. I need to see who called, its pretty urgent. Thank you for your help. I might need you to come with me there, so I can ask to see the footage. I will be there soon.'

So saying, he slammed down the phone. He went into his bedroom and took out his Beretta from his chest of drawers. Stepped out of his house after a cautious glance in every direction. Everything seemed to be okay. He checked his car before getting in, and then drove off towards the Masjid flyover.

Masjid flyover, 6.30 pm.

Once there, he parked his car nearby and walked in search of the showroom. With a number of people from whom to ask directions, he found it soon enough. And just as he was told, there was the provision store right beside it. He made his way to the shop, deciding to take the man along with him to watch the footage. He had the timing of the call from the message, and just had to match it with the timing in the recording. He went up to the shop, and was met by a short, stubby man of about forty-five. He had an amiable smile on his face, and looked up at Vineet questioningly.

'I'd called a while back. About who used your phone?..'

'Oh yes yes. Tell me.'

'Yeah I wanted to check the footage in the showroom, could you come with me? They know you and all, so that might help.'

'Sure sir, I'll just tell my wife to mind the shop. Give me two minutes.' He went in and after a bit, came out and told Vineet to follow him. They both went to the shop, and the man explained the situation to the people. They immediately agreed to let them view the footage, and directed them to the room where the TV was located. The two men closed the door behing them, and Vineet began looking at the tapes. He fast forwarded to 5.14, the time at which the call was made. As he forwarded, he saw many people coming and going, seemingly moving at superhuman speed as the tape sped on. Then around 5.12, he stopped and pressed play again. He watched for the next two minutes, waiting to see who would come into the frame. It was not 5.14. It had to happen now.

It had to.

And then he saw on the screen, a short, stout figure get out of the shop, and it was the shopkeeper making a call from his own phone.

Before he could reach for the gun in his pocket and turn around, something heavy crashed into his head and he felt a creeping blackness on the edges of his vision. He fell onto the floor, limp, and struggled to look up at his assailant, who was tying him up and then hauling him onto his shoulder and taking him out another door, which led to an alley behind the shop.

He had fallen right into the man's trap. That was when he looked up, and saw those eyes again, flashing. His hands and legs now tied, there wasn't much he could do, except wonder how he did not remember those eyes earlier.

Then black.

The next thing he remembered was waking up. He was in place. He didn't know how or where, but he knew why.

Well, you know the rest...

P.S. The topic i'd gotten, which i somehow had to write on in 500 words, was- 'You come home and listen to your messages and freeze on the third. Start from here.'

Hello?- part 2

part deux of the story. well the suspense isn't exactly mind-blowing, if my friend Ashwin is to be believed. but then he's been the perennial party-pooper :P hope its good enough.

Vineet felt light headed and slumped onto his sofa. He remembered that night like it was yesterday. But he had hoped and prayed that it wouldn't come to haunt him. They say your karma comes to find you eventually and his seemed to have balled up to knock him in the gut. He didn't know what to do now. He was scared and rightly so. That night had been his fault.

1st January 2011, 12.10 am

He staggered out of Spiral, and sat down on the pavement lining the empty road. Two of his friends came out with him, concerned whether he'd had one too many to drink.

'Yeah you should sit outside for a while. Enough drinking and dancing for you today.'

'No I'll be alright, just give me five minutes! I'm not done yet. Its..its New Year's man. You d-don't go home early! I need fresh air that's all.' he replied.

'No you don't. You can come back in but no more drinking. You've to drive back home man. How are you going to do that if you drink more? Party's going to get over soon, remember the deadline? You've to drive home then.' the second friend advised.

'No! You don't tell me what to do!' he got up to strike his friends, not thinking sensibly under the influence of the alcohol inside him. He staggered and missed, and they pushed him away roughly. But when they bent up to pick him up, he pushed them away and slowly got up. He made a rude gesture at both of them and walked towards his car. He had no mood to be around them anymore. They both tried to stop him but he pushed them aside, got inside and locked his doors. He started his car and drove away before they could do anything more. He tried his best to keep a steady eye on the road despite his moving field of vision. His mind went back to his altercation with his friends and suddenly he felt bad he'd made that gesture at them. He wondered if he should go back and..

Two lights shined into his eyes out of nowhere, and he was blinded for a second. He swerved to avoid the oncoming car, and twisted the steering wheel violently. He avoided the car, but was moving uncontrollably towards the pavement. Frozen, there was nothing he could do. There was a little girl of ten on the pavement, walking, with her father about a hundred paces behind her. Before he knew it, he rammed into her, the impact causing only a dull thud on the bonnet that reached his ears, but flinging the girl many feet, sending crashing into the wall of a nearby building. He heard an ominous crack as that happened, and she fell down, lifeless. Her father roared in anger and came racing towards her. But by then, he had reversed and sped away. But as he passed the father, who was running in the dark towards her, he saw the man's pair of eyes looking directly, feet not pausing, but the eyes registering how he looked. He couldn't look at the face in the dark. But there was an anger and pain in those eyes he had noticed that made his blood turn to water. He wanted to get out of there.

He got back to his penthouse, and went back and cleaned his car's front, making sure there was no blood anywhere. He then unscrewed the registration plates of his car, replacing them with a pair of old ones from his previous car that he hadn't discarded yet. That done, he want back up to his flat. But there was no sleep for him that night. He cried and sobbed through the hours. He withdrew into a shell over the next few weeks and wouldn't answer anyone's concerned queries at work. But as they say, time heals all, and with the growing months, he regained some of his normalcy. But he had given up alcohol, partying, and all of that. He lived a straight life with his work being his worship. As a result, he had grown even richer, but still that gave him no joy. He seemed to be walking solemnly through life. He hoped someday he would have rid himself of the debt to owed in lieu of his crime.

But then, there was someone who wouldn't settle just for a reformed version of him. Someone wanted him dead.

Hello?- part 1

there was a creative writing contest in BMS last week that I took part in. Thing is, the word limit was 500 words and I can't write that short a story too well, so I made a flimsy job of my topic. But I liked it so I decided to write it a little more elaborately. I shall tell the topic I'd gotten at the end of the second part.

He was in a place. Some place. He did not know how or where, but he knew why.

'Hello? Are you there?'

He was answered with silence. But he knew the other person was around. He could tell. The air stank of the man's hatred for him. It was heavy with the man's resolve.

'Please, I am sorry! Please let me go! I promise I'll surrender, I'll do whatever you say, please just let me go!' he sobbed. That was when the other voice replied from the depths of darkness.

'If you weren't in this position right now, you wouldn't have given a second thought about what you did. You would have continued living your hedonistic life. Yuppie chief editor of a high society tabloid. You've always been farting through silk haven't you? Always would. I'm the one who spent sleepless nights crying over my daughter who was taken away from me. By you. I'm the one who sought justice to no avail. And I'm the one who's going to kill you tonight.'

'Please, I'll confess! I'll call a conference and apologize to you in front of everyone. I'll help you out, please don't kill me!' He shouted. In reply, the other voice chuckled, a sound that made his hair rise and his spirits sink.

'You would apologize would you? And that would erase everything? Well then you must have had one hell of an apology. Let me hear it.'

The other man walked up to him and now stood right in front of him, blocking the halogen lamp shining in his face. He then turned around to see they were in an empty warehouse of some sort. A few leftover bales of cotton in a corner served as evidence. He looked around for anything that could help him recognize where they were. Probably something outside their window, a landmark he could recognize. That was when his face was yanked to look into the other man's, who said only one word, slowly and with stress.

'Apologize.'

'Look man, I'm really and genuinely sorry for what I did. It was a while ago, and I've changed since then. The life I'm living now is all so that I can counter that one night, and..' his mouth was clamped by the other man's hand, and he fell silent. He looked at that face, which now seemed in distant thought, as though considering his words. Then it looked at him again the head shook.

'Apologize.'

'I am, I really am sorry!' he started to sob, scared by the note of instability in the other man's voice. 'Please just let me go, I will do whatever you say...' a hand fell hard on his face, and he had a brief brush with darkness as he almost passed out. He looked up at the man, groggy, and saw something glint in his right hand, and that was when he knew what was going to happen. The man yelled at him, face contorted in anger.

'APOLOGIZE!!!!' and the man's scream of anger was joined by his of fear. He felt his blood turn to water and all his life force seemed to desert him for a second. At was at that very second, while he was shouting, that the blade rushed at his face with blinding speed and...

Hello darkness, my old friend.

4 hours ago

Vineet Agarwal came home from his birthday party at the office. His colleagues had wished him, and even gone to the lengths of bringing him a surprise cake. He went through the motions pleasantly enough, and thanking everyone, came back home. But the truth was that he couldn't feelany real happiness anymore. Not since that night.

He glanced at his flashing telephone which meant there were messages for him to listen to. He went up to it and pressed play. The first two messages were from his parents and his sister wishing him on his birthday. Then the third message started to play, and his legs damn near gave way beneath him.

'Birthday Vineet. I won't say happy because I'm not going to let it be. I know what you did, I was there that night, but I was helpless. I saw my daughter lose her life because of your irresponsibility. My little girl of five that you killed. That too on her birthday. I'm going to do to the same to you, I want you to feel the same helplessness that I did. Mark my words Vineet Agarwal, you will not see tomorrow's sunrise. No matter what you try today, I will hunt you down, and kill you.'

Beep. 'End of messages.'