Mentor Yogi

September Winds September, clutching to the iron rod sitting at the edge on a tempo roof as the vehicle rolls steadily and slowly - like a mesmerised ox - over the thick black road under the cover of tall eucalyptus tree, which are standing to either side of the road like royal soldiers escorting the regal procession. Green fields stretching as long as the eyes can see. The refreshing air. So - Village again.  The tempo was nearing the edge of Ramala and was picking up speed abruptly. The driver was in a foul mood particularly because half a dozen youngsters from Ramala had not only refused to pay him even a single rupee but also had spoken tersely with him. You can tell the intensity of burning rage inside him by the groan of the tempo's engine - now it was groaning like a mad bull.  Once the tempo get past Ramala, a soft music began to flow from someone's Nokia handset at full volume, "Suhana safar aur yeah mausam sahi" - this old time hit golden era song, never fai...

  In The Dark Dark marking the depth of night, stillness assuring its longevity, and stars its nakedness, while street lights marking the limit of its reign.  Through the specialized night vision floating hypothetical eyes and with an animal's hearing we scanned the world around us. The village beneath is all quiet and still, but alive like a hibernating animal in a deep sleep. Highway in the North, and not too broad road circling around the rest three directions marking the Amoebic shape of the village. Streets like arteries are stretching to the ends of the boundaries while some are disappearing within like capillaries. Midnight has approached and the village is all hushed and seem to be in a mysterious deep sleep.   Floating in the dark sea like a fish in the air, somewhere inside the thicket of black sheet, although the thicket of black sheet isn't the thing we needed to camouflage our presence since we have no material presence at all: no body, no sense, no noth...

  VICTIM It was noon, the month of August, rain had been pouring down calmly, it was the kind of patient monsoon rain which came prepared to fill the land with water for hours.  A social outcast, just hours before had been thrown out of work, had lost my wife - my only world - and no home to go to, I sat down on a bench in the park, the rain washing me out. The children were playing in the rain nearby, cars were hurrying so were the people, rain had stirred everyone's spirit, but me: I was stationary, unmoved sitting with my head down on the grass. What should I do now? or where should I go? There had been many big questions in my head. In the distance birds in the group were chirping as if calling for their last crewmate. I realized it was me, but I can't fly anymore neither can chirp. I had sold my voice and my wings were torn off. I was the helpless baby bird who was lying deep down into the water with no hope for help or life. The rain was falling on the road, over the ho...

In The Muse   The day used to be rough, though pleasant the nights.  That day, though, was different as he was in the labyr in th of a puzzled world of past, present and future; feeling worried, lost, and h el pless. That's the night he saw the ghost. A ghost from the past. When it had already become unbearable ,  towards the late in the night , so he was  restless, so couldn't help pacing around his big room like an impatient child, irritated by the little light coming by the window through the fog outside. Pacing he turned and turned once again, eventually he found him standing in front of the mirror screaming for no apparent reason - screaming just to listen how high he could scream without getting any answer or reaction, he even didn't know what he was expecting or whether he was expecting an answer at all. Just then the door in the wall - somewhere around - opened  hastily - because the haste was required in that case. Like a little ghost, a child wafted ou...