It was a normal Saturday evening at the market I pass through everyday. The old road pockmarked with ditches resembles the moon with its craters. With all its ditches, it looks all the more beautiful to me. The pavement full of vendors selling everything you can dream of. Stuff that makes a poor man’s house look rich. The bridge which is not  as big as the Brooklyn Bridge  but is an old one with the railing coming off  and the river flowing beneath it half filled with the waste from the daily market. The big old trees, which my grandfather used to say, he and his friends planted to make our colony greener. The old school, which is still holding fort and helping many students graduate each year to the next level. The convenient division, with half of the children studying and the other half helping these guys study by selling stationary on the other side of the wall, still working smoothly. Most of the shops around the market sell cosmetic stuff for women. For every nine shops selling women’s cosmetic products there is one shop which sells every commodity men need to survive in this world. The irony being that all the women’s shops are no bigger than a small room and one men’s shop is at least two to three rooms big.

I was coming back after meeting my friends and having a hell of a good time. The day had started on a good note and I as usual never gave any thought to how the remaining day would be. As is common, we never ponder upon our day but go along expecting all good things to happen. I was in my own world talking and singing to myself. I had almost reached the bridge when I had a strange feeling that something wasn’t right. The feeling that makes you look at all the things in a rather suspicious manner.

But nothing seemed to be different. The same market. The same vendors. The same hellos. The same bridge. The same buzz. And the  same me. But still there was a strange and strong feeling that seized my heart in a big way making it weak with fear, anxiety and hope. I could not understand what was happening to me. I looked around and could see a girl coming my way and I soon figured out that she was no normal girl. A girl with beautiful eyes, long hair, an hourglass figure and seductive looks. On any normal day I would have tried to befriend her or tried to start a conversation. But that day I could not get any feelings for her. I wore a look that clearly indicated to her that I was not interested. She went away giving me a sympathetic look. Suddenly, my mind shrieked and it came to me as a big bolt. “Am I becoming Gay? Was this what Ankit was talking to me about?” I looked at other boys and I was praying all that time that I should not generate any feeling for them. I was happy I did not.

With the biggest sigh of relief of my life I went on walking, this time more slowly than ever, pondering over the reactions happening in my mind, heart, body and each and every cell which until then was inert to any feelings of this type. I was getting more worried by the minute and it was very evident on my face. I reached the busiest of the market taking each step slowly. It felt as though I was on a minefield, afraid, one wrong step might blow me up to pieces, beyond recognition.

“Kya saab, kuch praablem hai kya?” the vegetable vendor asked me. (Is there any problem, sir?). I looked at him for a couple of seconds and asked him, “Kaisa hai aaj market? Sab theek to hai na?” (“How is the market today? Is everything alright?”)
“Haan. Dhandha zabardast chal raha hai. Aaj to main soch raha hoon abhi ghar jaake apni waali ke saath ghoomne jaun,” he answered.
“Kya baat hai yaar? Bahar-E-Ishq.”
“Kya saab?”
“Ishq ka mausam chal raha hai aajkal.” I said.
“Haan saab. Apni waali se bahut mohhabbat karta hoon main. Sirf apni waali se sahab. Aur kisise nahin. Ma kasam”, he tried to look honest and he was blushing.
“Maine kab kaha ki tu doosri waali se bhi pyar karta hain? Kyun. Karta hai kya?”
“Nahi saab. Maa kasam. Mere baap ki bhi kasam,” he reacted with a look of pious horror on his face.
“Acha chodh. Jaldi jao. Warna der ho jayegi tumhe.”
“Kuch sabzi logey saab?”
“Nahin.”
“Acha saab.”

I went on with my slow walk being happy about the talk but somehow could not get that feeling out of my system. I thought there might be something wrong with my health. I passed the temple and for the first time I involuntarily stopped, removed my shoes and prayed to God. I wished everything would go on well at least till I reached home. I knew I was being selfish but I couldn’t help it. I wore my shoes and started to go when Sharma uncle came and gave me some prashad.

“All the best for your exams, beta”, he said.

“Thanks uncle.”

“Ramu is going to the US on Thursday. Why don’t you come to see him? You both have been good friends for a long time. What happened to you both? Why are you not talking? Wait. Ramu will be coming. I will settle the matter here itself.”

“No, uncle. Let it be. We will settle it ourselves.”

“No. Wait. We will do it in front of the temple of…”

A large chunk of metal flew past us making us sense its speed and heat. We were thrown away by the impact. A few seconds later I could hear a deafening blast which made my ears scream with pain. Tears ran down my eyes due to the heat and my skin was itching and burning at the same time. I was in a daze for a few seconds with my brain not able to send me signals to see, hear or feel what was going on around me. The impact had benumbed me for a few seconds. When I recovered, I could barely stand and see what was going on. There was smoke, fire, water, blood, bodies and shouts. Utter Chaos! I looked for Sharma uncle and he was nowhere to be seen. I thought he might have died. I suddenly thought of Ramu and his US trip. I could not understand why I thought about that trip at that moment. I stumbled upon many things I could barely recognize. The place was reeking of smoke, blood, flesh and decomposed material. I thought I would vomit.

It was more than five minutes later that I started to get used to the chaos when something very hard hit me on my back. There were two more explosions. I fell to the ground with great force. My breath had been knocked out of me and I felt as if I was about to die. A guy came up and helped me up. A killing pain shot through my head. It was spinning. Some one gave me a glass of water and I do not know how many glasses later I started feeling better.

“Kaise ho saab?” the voice said.

I could not answer but knew the voice. I tried to answer by nodding my head but it was paining. I became delirious. I vomited. I regained a little bit of consciousness after that and I could see the vegetable vendor trying to lift me up and place me on a charpoy. Ramu! Suddenly I thought about what would have happened to Ramu. I tried to get up but was forced to sit down. I tried to explain but words had deserted me. I feared I might have lost my voice. I struggled a little and all I could say was, “Something hit me….”

I was informed that it was a body that had hit me.
Whose body?” I asked
“Don’t know. Beyond recognition,” someone answered me.
“Oh my God!”

The vendor went away to help more people. I sat there counting minutes and analyzing my stability. Five. Ten. Fifteen. After about fifteen minutes I got up and looked around again to see if I could recognize anyone. All the time I was hoping I would not find Ramu’s body and even if I found it accidentally I hoped I did not recognize it. I slowly stepped over each and every body. There were people shouting. The police were trying to control everyone. Ambulance siren. Cries. Shouts of pain. Suffering. Swearing. Praying to God.

I was shocked when I had my first glimpse of the market after the blast. Was this the market I love so much? Was this the market, which was always filled with hellos and smiles? Was this the same market, which I thought was beautiful? It wasn’t so any more.

My eyes filled with tears and I could not stop them. I did not want to cry but tears just rolled down my cheeks falling on the debris.

“Holy God! Thank God you are safe.”

I turned around to see Ramu’s face full of ash and blood. He was trying to talk to me and control his tears. I hugged him. I cried. We both cried. We cried for our market and also ourselves. We cried for peace. We cried for our friendship.

“Sharma uncle?” I asked.

“He’s safe. He is in the temple nursing people. He is hurt a little though.”

Temple? God? Why did I have to stop today to pray when I never did that ever in my lifetime? Did God himself save me? Should I start believing in him? Is he there? Had he taken the form of Sharma uncle who gave me prashad?

I could not answer these questions. I was confused. I was weak. I did not want to answer them. At least for now.

“Come. Let’s help other people,” Ramu said.

We helped the police and the ambulance guys in giving first aid to many children, women, girls and men. Some of them had lost their legs. Some hands. Some of them were horribly bruised. Some were totally naked. Some were dizzy. But many were dead. Their bodies hung limply while being carried to the van. I could not think of anything. Everything was just happening and I was going with it.

We worked endlessly for three hours and could finally finish with all the things. We came and sat down. I again had a look at my market. Our market. It had changed in a couple of minutes. The same old road with ditches was carpeted with water and blood. The same old pavement was full of rubble. There was no rich and poor now. The river was still flowing under the bridge, which had stood the impact of the explosion. The railing had become a little slacker than what it had been. The big old trees were still green, even in the dark. The same old school looked as if nothing had happened.

Sharma uncle was still nursing the patients. Media persons with numerous questions thronged the market. As for me, I still could not figure out, who that hot girl was and why I did not react to her.

It was nine when Ramu and I relaxed to have a cup of tea at Gopal’s teashop, which was half burnt.

“Kya be, tu aaj chai muft main de raha hai? Kahan gaya woh kanjoos Gopal?”, Ahmed the mechanic joked.

A few of them tried to laugh.

***************

The vegetable vendor whose name I still do not know could not go out with his love but would be happy he is with her. Ramu and I have come closer than before, without any effort. May be the issue was settled in front of the temple.  I do not know whether the ratio of studying and non-studying students is still equal. The shops have declined in number. Everything is the same but somehow the market isn’t the same and the way I see it isn’t the same either. The way I look at it now has a few bruised memories to it.

“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No! We are not doing it.”
“Why don’t you get the point? It is very difficult to make him understand anything. He is a very stubborn guy who listens only to himself and his old grumpy astrologer.”
“Then we will come up with an idea to make him understand.”
“I wonder how Kajal’s mother has been living with him. He is seen more with the astrologer than his wife. May be he has some affinity towards men.”
“Shut Up, Ram!” Ali said. You are talking about our friend’s father.”
“I never said he has. He may have…,” Ram said.
“Enough. Do not side track the topic.”

 “I seriously feel he will eventually marry off his daughter to an astrologer.”
“Ram!”
“What? I was only talking to myself.”
“Let’s first talk about the present situation,” said Ali.

 Ram and Ali were sitting on top of the hill talking about their plan to go to Coorg with their childhood friend Kajal Saha whose father they feared might not allow her to accompany them.

Kajal’s father, Mr. Anurag Saha is a retired person, settled in Bangalore along with his daughter, Kajal Saha and wife, Mrs. Rukmini Saha. He is a person who believes more in astrology than in his wife. At one time he did not talk to his wife as advised by the astrologer Narasimha Pujar who felt it would have drastic effects on Saha’s wife’s health. Mrs. Saha, a very religious and a shrewd person had to keep herself away from her husband to avoid him to speak to her. Mr. Saha even stuck notes with the words, “Do not talk to Mrs. Saha,” all over his place.

“Let’s go to Kajal’s place and say there is a pooja at a cousin’s place in Coorg. He will blindly say yes,” Ram said.
“Every one in town knows that your cousins are in America and you don’t have any relatives in Coorg,” reminded Ali.
“That’s the problem of being the son of a socially active father.”
“You have your own advantages. Say, how about talking to the astrologer guy Pujar to say something to Saha and make him send his daughter?”
“What would you say? Send your daughter to Coorg with two of her friends and one will become her husband in the future”.
“Definitely not. You know how Saha looks at me when I go to his house, as though I am not allowed.”
“He is only concerned about his traditions,” Ram justified and continued, “How about Mr. Kumar?”
“Who? Our Principal?”
“Yes. Let’s make him talk to Saha and….”
“Haan! And make him spill the beans.”
Two months back when Kajal could not reach the examination hall on time due to some health problem, which the principal would not have accepted as a reason good enough to let her write the exam, Ram and Ali came up with an idea. They went and said to the principal that Kajal’s father’s brother had passed away that morning and even then she came to take the exam. The interesting part being, Kajal did not even know about all this.

 She was happy that the college was so considerate. When the exam got over, the principal asked her about her uncle and his demise. She was surprised that why the principal asked her about the death of her uncle, which had happened five years back.

 “He was a good man,” she said. “I miss him a lot.”
“Don’t worry child. God is there,” he said. She went away in a confused state. When she came to know the reason, it took Ram and Ali more than a month to pacify her.

 “Man! That would be suicidal,” Ram said.
“You bet,” Ali responded.
“How about a friend’s accident?”
“No.”
“Colleague’s marriage?”
“Yours! No way.”
“Right. He will ask about the Muhurat and all the technical stuff. College trip?”
“Which got over last month”.
“Black mailing the grumpy astrologer into blabbering something?”
“Hahaha. Shut up”.
“A gift to Saha!…A book on Indian Traditions!”
“He has loads of them.”
“My Father.”
“What? Gift your father?”
“No, let my father talk to him.”
“And let him know that I am also coming.”
“Yeah. Yaar why don’t these elders understand all this?”
“I have an idea,” Ali said.
“What?”
“We will tell Kajal to say to her father that she is planning to go to the trip with Sruthi. As usual her father will call Sruthi and ask her. We will talk to Sruthi about this and make her say that she has some family work and
she wants Kajal to accompany her. If we can take care of the questions, then we will make Sruthi act as though she is ready to go.”
“As expected, Mr. Saha will look into the Muhurat.”
“Not if we say that the work is related to some temple. He won’t go into all the details.”
“Man! You are very cunning. Good! Then we can board the train and make Sruthi get down at the next station,” Ram said.
“Yeah!” said Ali with an air of triumph.
“But what if Saha finds out our names in the list. He will surely smell something,” Ram questioned.
“Hmmm…We will take another coach and later on exchange it with someone.”
“Sruthi’s father is a regular at the library and what if he meets Saha over there? Suicidal!” Ram said.  He continued, “Let’s go to Saha and set things right. We will go and say that we want to go to Coorg purely for some
change of weather. We will convince him that we won’t pester him again for the next 6 months.”
“Yeah and if he says anything about caste and traditions we will say we all are Indians first. First comes our nationality and then anything else.”
“We will also take some fruit and flowers for the Goddess and some sweets for aunty. We will say that we are ready to take some classes in astrology and its importance.”
“What? Has your mind fell somewhere. Astrology from the killer himself!!!” reacted Ali.
“Any option left?”
“Sigh! Ok We will fight it out man. What ever comes we shall be united. Even if Saha is in a bad mood we are not running away. Deal?”
“Yeah, yeah let’s go.”
“And how about a shot of insulin for Mr. Saha??” Ram said.
“And also psychoanalysis. Sounds great, doesn’t it?” Ali said irritatedly.
“Fine! It sounds as though you need one right now.”

 *************

 The gate of Kajal’s house creaked as they opened it. The dry leaves rustled ominously under their shoes and the trees were whistling as though telling them to run away. Ram dug his hands deep into his pockets. They were sweating despite the pleasant weather. Ali wasn’t feeling any better. He clutched Ram’s shoulder involuntarily. The house bore a deserted look and they started imagining Saha coming towards them with a big stick in his hand. They both trembled.

 “Ram! Ali!” Kajal shouted. They shrieked and almost ran before they noticed that it was Kajal who had called out to them.
“Listen Kajal. We came here to talk to your father regarding the trip. Even if he…,” Ram said, trying to be bold
“Oh that! He said yes to the trip.” Kajal said nonchalantly.
“What?” they both said in unison.
“Yes. He agreed.”
“Great. That is so great.” They both clapped their hands.
“Wait. I will wear my sandals and come with you guys.”
“Man! Saha uncle is not a bad man at all. He is such a gentleman,” Ram said.
“Yes. We thought so badly about him. He does trust us.” Ali reciprocated.
When the three started walking, Kajal looked at them and said, “My father said we could go and since he has some work over there, he would accompany us on the trip. It would be so great. Hai Na!”

The early morning lull of Krishna Apartments in Sarovar Colony was broken by Raj’s heavy footsteps coming down the stairs. The dog reclining lazily near the front gate was startled by the noise. Raj was in a hurry. He was getting late. It was 5 in the morning and he was on his way to catch a flight. The road was almost deserted, but for a couple that was taking a walk at some distance. He could hear the morning azaan from a distant mosque. Raj was walking very fast and his eyes were desperate to find a taxi. He could hear the sound of his footsteps very clearly. The dead leaves under his shoes seemed to be crying out to him not to trample them so hard. He felt he left a series of howlings as he took each step. He could feel the chill in the air. His lips had become dry and his fingers were aching under the weight of his suitcase. But still he continued like that for a quarter of a kilometer when a taxi guy could be seen. He got into the taxi and said, “Airport.”

The trees were barely visible and so were the road and other things. The taxi guy whose name was Ranjan was more interested in talking about cricket and the way Indian cricketers were being treated in Australia. Raj felt that either Ranjan was in a bad mood or drunk. He was more satisfied to look outside and feel the cold wave hitting his face, making each cell under his skin ache and become numb. His eyes began to water. The wind was ripping through the pages of the book he had in his hand so he opened the bag and put it inside. He found a packet of mouth fresheners and popped one in his mouth. He enjoyed the experience of the cold wave outside and also of the one inside his mouth.

 He reached the airport much before he expected and he was not really happy that he had arrived so early. Waiting for a long time was not his forte and now he was more concerned about how to spend the remaining time. He started moving towards the departure gate very slowly. It was as though he was racing with a snail that morning without any intention of winning. He heard a loud honking behind himself and he had to come out of his thoughts suddenly to see who it was. A guy was driving a car and it looked like he was in a hurry. The rear window of the car opened and a girl shouted at Raj to walk on the side of the road and before he could react she was gone. For the next few seconds he could not think anything. When he came to his senses all he could remember was the girl and her eyes. He was more than willing to forget the words she had said. It was her eyes more than anything, which caught his attention. He felt she had very beautiful eyes. They were in almost perfect shape with a sort of glow in them. He could not figure out whether she had make up on her eyes or not but it was very difficult for Raj to take away his mind from them

 With the girl in his mind he slowly reached the departure gate. While still in deep thought he took a trolley and put his bags on it. An elderly woman who was finding trouble pulling out a trolley for herself asked him for help and he was happy to oblige her. She thanked him and went away. He took his trolley and went to the gate. When he was about to go inside, he found that the flight had been delayed by an hour. Raj felt a strong urge to hit the guy who had made the announcement. He was not sure what he would be doing the next one hour. He went to the coffee shop and ordered a coffee and while the coffee was being prepared he thought what his schedule for the next one hour would be.

 He took the coffee and gave a hundred rupee note.
“No change, sir”, the coffee guy said. “It is very difficult to get change so early in the morning.”

 While Raj was wondering whom he should ask for change, a boy of almost his age came to have coffee and luckily for Raj he had the correct change and he more than willingly helped him. After thanking him profusely, Raj went ahead to take a look around the airport while having his coffee. He checked everything from the make of the trolley to the patterns on the floor, some of which he admired for their pure subtle beauty and a few he thought could be changed. He wondered why the maintenance was bad outside the airport when it was so good inside. Does an airport become beautiful only because of its interiors?

 The weather had been chilly right from the start of the day and it was not showing any signs of warming up. Raj was wearing his over coat and he felt he was a little overdressed and thought of his mother who had made him cover himself as though he was going to Shimla. The hot coffee was making him feel warmer. He removed his coat and hung it on his trolley. He finished his coffee and went to the gate and on the way he met the girl who had shouted at him. She smiled at him sheepishly and he could understand that she was feeling a little ashamed of her behavior. He smiled at her and she could barely smile properly. He noticed that she was dressed casually in jeans, a pink top and an over coat. She was slim and curvaceous. She had short, black hair. She had a lot of femininity about her and her gait was elegant. Over all, Raj thought, she was a good looker. He wondered whether she was also traveling by the same flight. He did not think about it again and went inside. He checked in and went and sat in the waiting room

 He felt a little sleepy and before he could know he fell asleep. He slowly slipped in to sound sleep. In no time he was dreaming and he saw the girl who had shouted at him, coming towards him.
“I am very sorry for such behaviour. I thought I would get late for my flight and in that hurry I said those things”, she said.
He said, “It is fine and I have no ill feeling towards you.”
“Hi! I am Shweta.”
“Raj.”
They shook hands and he thought her hands were real soft. He looked into her eyes again and thought how beautiful they were. She was confused at first and then felt a bit embarrassed to see him gaze into her eyes.

 Raj woke up suddenly to see the same girl standing beside him. At first he could not make out who she was. He looked at her with his eyes half open and she let out a gentle laugh.

 “Don’t you want to board the flight?” she asked. “Oh! I …I…felt tired and slept”, he stammered.

 ”The flight has already been announced”, she said and left to board it. He followed her involuntarily and he was surprised to see himself doing that. All through the way to the flight, he kept on thinking about her. The steward had to ask him twice before he showed him the ticket.

 ”He is in a delirious state”, he heard the steward saying to another. Once inside the flight he searched for his seat and found that his seat was right beside that girl’s. His heart was racing and even though he could feel immense happiness, he tried to remain nonchalant. He went and sat in his seat. When the flight was almost ready to take off, the air hostess started explaining the important things to be done during emergencies.

 ”I am sorry for my behaviour today. I was worried I might miss my flight and in that anxiety I shouted at you,” she said looking at him. He looked at her in surprise and said, “It’s fine and I have no bad feelings towards you.” The words came out of his mouth without his knowledge. He looked at her eyes again and thought they were really beautiful.

 She smiled at him and said, “Hi! I am Shweta.”
“Hi! I am Raj”, he said smiling at her and thinking this might turn out to be his best journey. He looked outside the window to see the world coming alive to go about its daily work.

By Bineeta Fialok

Can you hear the silence?’ She said, ‘the silence of the dark sky, the silence of the shrieking trees, reaching out there gnarled and shriveled old branches to clutch it, to embrace it, to hold on to it forever as if there roots no longer have the strength nor the desire to strangle and clutch the earth with their strong hold. Before the final fall of death there’s a last attempt at holding on to something which gives the hope of further life, even if it’s just a chimera.’

She stopped to add fresh wood to the dying fire, which gave me the time to recover from the horrific visuals I had been supplying to her words in my imagination.

 ‘Did I scare you?’, she enquired in a concerned manner.
‘Oh! No, not at all. Just that I’m blessed with a very fertile imagination.’, was my reply, given along with a little chuckle.
‘But you do scare me.’ was her next statement.
‘Why?’
‘Because, I see a happy girl in you. Just like I was when I was your age.’

 Now was my turn to be puzzled. All I could do was look on for an explanation, which wasn’t forthcoming. At least not at that time.

 ‘What did you mean by all that trees clutching at the sky and all? It sounded more like a horror story’, was me prodding again for some kind of an explanation.
‘Yes, indeed, it’s a horrific story.’ Now a naughty smile was playing on her lips as she played with her dainty glittering watch.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Nothing. Nothing at all. When did I ever mean anything?’

 In the past 23 yrs. Of my life I had never met a more enigmatic personality. I wanted to draw away, yet I wanted to know more. I was least bothered about what she knew yet there was the greed, the lust to be a confidante, to share in her unknown secret. I was surprised at myself, the usually cool and collected person that I am. What was this turmoil, this longing? Why was I dying to taste the ecstasy of knowing, knowing everything about that strange woman with large black eyes.

 Those eyes, yes, those eyes, they had something in them. Full of mockery, that she knew something more, something important…crucial, which she wouldn’t tell and then suddenly there was the longing to tell, the pain of not being able to reveal.

 As my mind raced on she lit a cigarette and offered me one saying

 ‘Don’t tax yourself. I promise you’ll know.’
I almost lost my balance, ‘How do you know?’
‘Now that one’s ambiguous. How do I know that you’ll know or how do I know that you want to know?’

 The endearing smile that had drawn me to this woman had now changed into something so mysterious yet so enticing.

 ‘I guess I would like to have an answer to both.’ My manner had changed into a more formal and dry one now as I wanted to draw away as soon as possible. Of course none is comfortable sitting with someone who seems to be a mind reader of sorts.

 A gleeful smile of importance spread on her lips, ‘But what do you want to know?’

 This was becoming one of the circumstances where I tend to lose my cool, yet somehow I managed to produce a smile.

 ‘Everything if you want to reveal and nothing if you don’t want to.’

 I had surprised myself with my answer because what I wanted to do was to run away from her and join the group of other fellow travelers who were also waiting for the little fault in the bus to be set right. Well, the little fault had already taken three hours.

 ‘Everything about you, about me or about every woman in this world?’, she said mysteriously with a laugh.
‘Oh please! If it’s about women’s oppression then I’m tired of the topic.’
‘Me too. I was also tired of people coming and getting pictures clicked, asking, ‘Did it hurt a lot? Did you know him? Was he someone close? What will you do now? We will help you.’

 ‘Publicity, rallies… yes they helped me a lot’

 The smile on her face had turned into a loud, bitter laugh. The same shrieking laughter of the silently dying trees.

By Chandana Madishetty

It was a Thursday morning; I got up early to catch up with my team at 8:30am to discuss the progress of our current project.

I quickly got out of my bed, completed my daily morning chores, got ready & rushed towards my First Love (Scooty) with my huge baggage consisting of a laptop bag, my hand bag, my Tiffin box, helmet on my head and most important- my sunglasses.

 I set my baggage on the scooty, kicked-off the bike, raised the accelerator and went vrrrooooooooomm… totally unaware of the danger, which was looming ahead.

 I reached the turning near the Clock Tower when to my horror I realized it was not just me on my scooty, someone else was there, silently sitting on my bike enjoying the freshness of an early morning drive. My heart started pounding, I was dead scared. Shivering with fear, sweat trickled down from behind my ears and ran down my spine.

 “Why didn’t I realize this when I started my bike at home? Or is it that it happened on my way? But when?? I dint stop my bike anywhere in the middle of my route! What the hell shall I do? Mommyyyyyyyyyy shall I stop at some corner & ask someone for help? Or shall I just ignore all this & continue driving till I reach office, as I was already 5 minutes late”-my mind was flooded with numerous stupid thoughts.

 While I was busy being scared & thinking all the possible ways & means of getting rid of this trouble, the unwanted guest which didn’t even have the courtesy of asking for a lift before enjoying the drive was coolly gazing at me (face-to-face), I could see its two huge antennas pointing at me & its tiny eyes, it was green in color & was mounted right at the centre of my scooty’s top (i.e. the part between the accelerator & handle) - directly facing me. I immediately shut the visor of my helmet, as jumping on my face shall be the last thing I want that dirty thing to do!

 Why on earth did this big (10cm) leaf insect find my scooty to relax & enjoy an early drive when there were so many Passions, Discoveries, Pulsars or it could even go for classy Ferrari’s, Fords, Hondas and BMWs. (For those who don’t know or who are unable to understand my intense dramatic reactions towards a tiny insect……..I AM DEAD SCARED & ALERGIC TO INSECTS…YUCKKKKK!)

 I slowed down the speed of my bike maintaining towards the left corner of our ditchhy Indian roads mustering all the courage to shoooo the insect using my bag or…I dunno which object to use, lets see (I thought)…..just in time I saw a good old uncle who moving out of his car. I happily parked my bike right beside him & giving him a sheepish smile said – “Uncle, please I am dead scared of insects”- pointing at the scary thing. Smiling at me, the noble man shooed away the morning disaster. I saw the huge green insect fly away with its wings wide open, now looking much bigger than what it was when it was mounted on my scooty’s top.

 Thanking the uncle, feeling very much relieved….as if flying in air (but not like that insect of course), I drove away happily towards my office.

 Signing-off,
Chandana
21.58 on 7th May’08.